#I have the opportunity to go to Mexico too but that might be too much

[fangirlforthewin]

Happy New Years, all! May it be filled with motivation, inspiration, and good health!

[meazalykov]

getting what she wants

lena oberdorf x reader

part four of five

summary: you wonder if she will take this as seriously as you will, since the unfortunate event will turn her life around

warnings: angst, acl injury

the atmosphere in washington, d.c. was buzzing, the crowd already filling up the stadium for the final friendly before the olympics. 

the last tune-up match. the send off. you should’ve been excited, but your mind wasn’t entirely focused on the game ahead.

your family was here, your non-soccer playing friends have called off from their jobs just to celebrate your achievements.

however, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, though you hadn’t put your finger on it yet.

emma had decided to rest you for the first half, opting to try out some new formations and lineups before the olympics. 

you were okay with it, knowing that your performance in new york had already solidified your spot in the starting lineup for the tournament. still, sitting on the bench with your legs jittering from the adrenaline that always hit just before a match wasn’t easy.

you sat between tierna and hal, the latter relatively new to the national team setup. hal’s wide eyes scanned the field, soaking it all in as she sat nervously beside you.

"y/n," she said, her voice soft, like she wasn’t sure if she should even speak to you. 

you turn your head to look at her, with a light smile letting her know that she can speak to you anytime. 

"i know you’re going through a hard time, according to the team. and i feel like you should hear this since we haven’t talked much but i’ve just... i’ve always admired you. as a midfielder, i mean. your control, your playmaking, it’s... i don’t know, you’re so goated."

you turned to her, surprised by the compliment. you hadn’t interacted with hal much since this was only her third call-up to the senior team. she was still finding her spot, but her genuine words made you smile, if only a little.

"thank you, you don’t understand how much that means to me right now" you replied, offering her a nod of acknowledgment. 

"you’ve been doing great too. i can’t wait to play with you more often."

hal gave a nervous smile, then added, "i know there’s been... a lot of drama lately. with carmine and everything. but i want you to know that i’d like to be your friend, no matter what. i don’t care about the rumors that might make you look bad or any of that stuff."

her words took you off guard, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. 

it wasn’t easy to open up to new people, especially after your ex ruined your trust for a temporary period, but hal’s sincerity was a breath of fresh air.

"i’d like that," you said, meaning it. 

"friends sound good."

the game started, and for the first half, you sat watching intently, analyzing the way emma was testing out the new players. 

mexico was tough, just as they had been in the gold cup back in february, but you knew that your team had enough firepower to break them down eventually.

at halftime, it was still 0-0, and you were itching to get on the field. 

emma must’ve sensed it, because in the 63rd minute, she called your name.

"y/n, you’re going in. i want you to play in your normal position, just like last game, prioritize the opportunity. stay in the line– i trust you."

you nodded, already mentally preparing yourself as you stripped off your warm-up gear and jogged to the sideline. 

when the whistle blew, you stepped onto the pitch replacing rose lavelle, ready to make an impact.

within minutes, you found your rhythm, linking up with mallory, lynn, and sophia effortlessly. you could feel the game starting to open up, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the breakthrough came.

and then, in the 78th minute, it did.

lynn made a run down the left wing, drawing two defenders toward her. you saw the space open up in the middle and called for the ball. 

she cut it back to you, and without hesitation, you took a touch, then drilled it into the bottom corner of the net.

the goalkeeper dives too late to save it.

the crowd erupted as you run to the corner to celebrate. you see your family and personal friends and give them a heart with your hands, happy to see them here.

your teammates swarming you. it wasn’t a hat trick like the last game, but it was your fourth goal in two games, and it felt good—really good.

after the final whistle, with a 1-0 victory secured, you headed back to the locker room. 

the energy was high, the team buzzing with excitement, but there was a heavy pit forming in your stomach. 

something didn't feel right before the game, and you couldn’t shake it.

as you sat on the bench, wiping the sweat and grass dirt from your face, lindsey walked over, her expression serious. she motioned for you to follow her, pulling you into one of the private areas of the locker room.

"hi?" you asked, sensing something was wrong.

is she confronting you about the drama? you weren’t sure. lindsey reassured you many times that everyone still loves you, so you hope there were no new problems now.

lindsey hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours before she spoke. 

"i didn’t want to tell you before the game, but... lena got injured in germany’s friendly against austria. it’s her knee. popp thinks it’s her acl."

your heart dropped into your stomach, the words hitting you like a freight train. 

"what?" your voice cracked, panic already rising in your chest.

"she’s in the hospital back in germany right now," lindsey continued softly. 

"i’m sorry, y/n."

you didn’t think twice. without another word, you grabbed your phone and hurried outside to find a quieter space. 

it was 11:30 p.m. in dc, which meant it was 5:30 am in germany. 

lena would still be awake, especially if she was in the hospital.

with shaky hands, you dialed her number. the phone rang twice before she picked up, her voice groggy but filled with pain.

"hey," lena murmured. 

"i was hoping you’d call. nice goal by the way, i saw it on tv."

"lena, i just found out," you said, your voice tight as you tried to hold back the wave of emotions crashing over you. 

"your acl? are you okay? i—i should’ve called sooner but i had that game—"

"i’m... i don’t know," lena admitted, her voice breaking slightly. 

"it hurts like hell, and i couldn’t sleep. i was supposed to start my first game with you at bayern after the summer, but now... now i don’t even know when i’ll be back."

your heart ached hearing the defeat in her voice. 

lena was one of the toughest people you knew, but this was breaking her.

"i’m so sorry," you whispered, your throat tight. 

"i’ll be there for you, okay? after the olympics, i’ll help you with your recovery. i’ll make time, i promise."

"you don’t have to do that," lena said quietly, though you could hear the gratitude in her tone. 

"i don’t want to be a burden on you. you have so much going on—" she switches to german. 

"lena," you cut her off, your voice firm. 

"you’re not a burden. you’re a priority. i want to help you. i’ll be there for you, whatever you need. i promise."

there was a long pause on the other end before lena spoke again. 

"thank you," she whispered. "i... i don’t know what i’d do without you right now."

you sat there, the weight of her words sinking in. the truth was, you didn’t know what you’d do without her either. 

shes been in contact with you everyday since that night. unless there were training or games, there wasn’t a single long-period where you weren’t texting about something– or anything.

despite everything—despite the complicated mess you’d been through with your ex, and the uncertainty that had surrounded your relationship with lena—you realized just how deep your feelings for her ran.

you weren’t official with lena. not yet. but the way your heart was breaking for her right now told you everything you needed to know.

after a long pause, lena spoke again, her voice softer now. 

"i’ll still make time for you, even with everything going on."

"no," you said firmly. "i’m going to be there for you, okay? i’ll help you recover. you won’t have to go through this alone."

"thank you," lena whispered again, her voice filled with emotion. 

you sat there, the phone still pressed to your ear, your mind racing. this wasn’t how you’d imagined things would go. 

lena was supposed to start fresh at bayern after the summer, and now... now everything had changed.

when you returned to the locker room, the news had already spread. the atmosphere was a mix of excitement from the win and the heaviness of what had just happened to lena. 

your teammates, especially the ones who knew her well like tierna, gave you sympathetic looks, but no one said much.

as the team prepared to leave for d.c., the weight of everything that had happened in the past few weeks hit you all at once. 

from the messy breakup with sloan to lena’s injury, it felt like everything was spinning out of control. 

and yet, despite it all, one thing became clear to you as you boarded the plane for the olympics: 

you wanted to be with lena. not just as a friend, not just as someone helping her recover, but you wanted to be hers. and her to be yours. 

the thing is– you weren’t sure how it would all work out with lena, but you knew one thing for sure: you were in too deep to turn back now. 

when all of this was over, you and lena could figure it out together. 

the olympics came and went in a blur, the pressure mounting as you advanced through the tournament. 

the uswnt played like machines under emma hayes, and before you knew it, you found yourself in the final against brazil, the stakes higher than ever.

the atmosphere at the olympic final against brazil was electric. you were in the 2020 olympics with the team, but winning bronze doesn’t compare to this.

you stood shoulder to shoulder with lindsey and sam, eyes fixed on the opponents you’ve had faced so many times before. 

brazil was known for their speed and creativeness, but you knew alyssa naeher was more than prepared to keep them at bay. 

today wasn’t just another game — it was the olympic final. and you were more determined than ever to bring home gold. just to prove to yourself that nothing could stop your game, not your cheating ex— nobody.

but as the national anthem played, you couldn’t help but think of lena. 

you hadn’t spoken to her much over the last few days, mostly because she was in the thick of her recovery then traveling to meet up with her national team. 

though, lena was in the audience. you knew that. lena visited her german teammates as they won the bronze medal match against spain. to say that you were happy for them would've been an understatement. 

now the germans were here before the ceremony, ready to watch you put on an outstanding performance for gold.

your heart ached when you thought of her, the injury that had thrown both of your worlds off course. 

she was supposed to be thriving, ready to become a star at bayern, and now she was sidelined for months.

but right now, you had a job to do.

the whistle blew, and the final kicked off.

brazil came out swinging, full of energy, and the first twenty minutes were a back-and-forth battle in the midfield. 

every time adriana or marta touched the ball, your heart skipped a beat, but you knew alyssa was solid in the back. 

the triple espresso were pushing the attack, but brazil’s defense was holding strong.

at around the 30-minute mark, you found yourself in space, sam coffey threading a pass your way. 

your first touch was sharp, pushing the ball ahead of you as you glanced up to see the keeper off her line. the triple espresso was blocked by defenders, so without a second thought, you wound up and took the shot from just outside the box, sending the ball curling toward the top corner.

the sound of the net rippling sent a surge of adrenaline through your veins, and the stadium exploded in celebration. 1-0. 

you threw your arms up, letting the emotion wash over you as your teammates rushed to engulf you in a hug.

something inside of you wanted to cry in joy– but you held it in. there was still work to be done, and brazil wasn’t going to back down easily.

the rest of the first half was intense. 

brazil pressed hard, but the u.s. defense, led by alyssa, naomi, emily, crystal, and tierna, stood strong. 

when brazil did manage to get a shot off, alyssa was there, calm and collected, making crucial saves to maintain the lead.

at halftime, the locker room was a mixture of adrenaline and focus. 

the 1-0 lead felt good, but you knew it wasn’t enough. brazil was dangerous, and if you let up for even a second, they’d capitalize.

emma gathered the team for a quick pep talk, her voice steady but full of fire. you listened, making sure that you put on the best performance of your career in this second half.

as the second half kicked off, you could feel the tension. 

brazil came out with renewed energy, and for the first 15 minutes, they pinned you back, testing alyssa with shots from distance. 

she held firm, pulling off save after save, keeping the clean sheet intact.

you cheered, externally or internally, everytime. 

in the 65th minute, emma made a tactical switch, bringing in fresh legs to maintain the pace. fortunately, you weren’t subbed out. 

the game shifted again, and you found yourself back in the attack. mallory broke down the wing, flying past her defender, and whipped in a cross toward the penalty spot.

you were already there, timing your run perfectly. the ball floated in, and without hesitating, you leapt into the air, connecting with the header. 

it wasn’t the hardest shot you’d ever taken, but it was placed perfectly, tucking into the bottom corner past brazil’s keeper.

2-0.

the stadium erupted, louder this time, the roar deafening as you run around the pitch with your arms up high. your  teammates chased then mobbed you once again. most teammates from the bench even jumping up to hug you in celebration. 

a two-goal lead in the olympic final. you could taste the gold now.

with brazil rattled, the game started to open up. there were more chances on both sides, but your defense was unbreakable. 

alyssa, naomi, and emily were locked in, keeping brazil at bay with every attack they mounted. it felt like nothing could get past them, and you could see the frustration building in the brazilian players.

as the clock ticked down, the final whistle was nearing, but you kept your foot on the gas. 

brazil was desperate, throwing numbers forward, and that left them exposed at the back.

in the 88th minute, you found yourself in possession again, just outside the box. 

sophia made a darting run to pull the defenders away, giving you just enough space to take a shot. you faked to your right, cutting back inside, and then unleashed a low, driven strike toward the far post.

the ball hit the bar, but trinity recovered it and tapped it behind the net. 

3-0. the gold was yours.

the crowd exploded in celebration as you dropped to your knees, overwhelmed with emotion. 

trinity laid on top of you, crying with you. 

your teammates swarmed you, hugging you, lifting you up, the joy infectious. you had done it. olympic champions.

as the final whistle blew, the team celebrated like there was no tomorrow, hugging, crying, laughing. 

you had your gold medal moment, standing on top of the world. 

your hands were on your face as your sobs came out uncontrollably. if you told yourself a month ago that you’d be this happy and relieved, you wouldn’t believe it. 

lindsey and tierna comforted you as you stood up to go to the locker room, getting ready to shower before the ceremony. 

as you had a moment to settle down, your thoughts drifted back to lena.

you hadn’t realized how deep your feelings for her had grown.

the fact that she was there, the fact that she was hundreds of feet away in the stadium, recovering from an injury that could derail her season instead of celebrating bronze with her team, weighed heavily on your heart.

later that night, after all the celebrations, after the medals had been handed out and the photos had been taken, you found a quiet moment to yourself. 

the weight of the gold medal around your neck was a reminder of everything you’d worked for, but the ache in your chest was for something, someone else.

you pulled out your phone, glancing at the time. 

lena was probably asleep by now after partying with her national team, but you couldn’t help it. you needed to talk to her.

you dialed her number, your heart pounding as the phone rang. after a few rings, she picked up, her voice groggy.

"hey," she mumbled. 

"you did it!" she cheered through her tired voice. 

"yeah," you whispered, your throat tight. 

"we won."

there was a long pause on the other end, and you could hear lena shift slightly, probably trying to get comfortable in her bed. 

you know that she is someone who sleeps on her stomach, so the brace might make it hard for her. 

"i’m so proud of you," she said softly.

"i wish you were here with me," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

"this doesn’t feel right without you, even if you do have a different nationality than me." you giggled.

"i wish i was there too," she replied, her voice filled with longing. 

"but... i’ll be here when you get back. we’ll figure everything out then. until then, please enjoy your win."

you smiled, tears stinging your eyes. "i’m coming home to you. as soon as all of this is done."

"i’ll be waiting," lena whispered.

as you hung up after the goodnights, the weight of everything hit you all at once. 

the olympics, the gold, lena’s injury, your breakup with sloan, the confusion about what you and lena really were—it was all so much. 

one thing was clear in your mind as you stared down at the gold medal around your neck: it didn’t matter what obstacles lay ahead now. 

you moved on from whatever was in the past and you were in this with lena now, for the long run.

part five, the final part, here

[thetriumphantpanda]

pining & desperately waiting | javier peña

take the weight off his shoulders - chapter two

Chapter Summary | As much as he’s trying to keep his distance there is just something about you that Javier cannot stay away from. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so to speak. He's worried about you too, putting yourself in harms way for your work.

Chapter Warnings | Mutual pining, slow burn, sexual tension, flirting, mention of smoking and drinking alcohol, mention of drugs, drug deaths and the drug trade, explicit smut - masturbation (F)

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | When I tell you I love this (specific) man, I am telling you I love him. He consumes me. Thank you to @hellishjoel for letting me scream about these two with her and helping me figure this chapter out! If you like this I would love for you to join me in my ask box for screaming and please consider reblogging to support me! If you enjoyed this, you can make a donation to my Ko-Fi if you'd like to support me that way.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

You dream of him every night for a week after that night at the bar. They’re filthy, depraved sometimes, and you always wake up, slick pooling between your thighs, fingers working furiously before your alarm goes off to try a satiate you, or at least tide you over until you can climb back into bed that night and really take your time to imagine all the ways Javier would take you apart with his fingers, with his mouth, with his…. 

“Are you even listening to me?” 

You want to answer honestly and say no, you were busy daydreaming about getting railed by your dad’s buddy, but when you look across the table and see your boss practically glaring at you, you realise it’s probably for the best to lie a little. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, picking up your pen, “Didn’t sleep well, what were you saying?” 

“The fundraiser tomorrow,” She speaks, “For Dylan’s foundation, would you be okay to cover it?” 

You nod, because it makes sense for it to be you. Dylan had overdosed just over a year ago – seemingly on top of things, doing well in school and incredibly bright, found slouched over on a street corner, dead from an overdose before he’d been able to leave the small town for whatever bright lights he was destined for. He was just one of a string of drug-related deaths over the past twelve months – an ‘epidemic’ as they had coined it – the town too close to Mexico to escape the trade that Javier himself had worked so hard to quell. Dylan’s parent’s had set up a small foundation after his death, hoping to help other young kids who could be lured into this stuff to have other opportunities in their lives. 

“What kinda thing are you thinking?” You ask, starting to jot down notes as she speaks. 

“Just some reaction from people there, why they’ve decided to come out and support, maybe try and grab one of his parents, just the usual really, and we can run a story in the following days, might help drum up some more support for them if nothing else.” 

You nod, doing your usual with your notes of underlining the important parts, making notes on the kind of questions you’ll ask when you speak to people, “How many words have I got to work with?” 

“I think we can give them a page,” She says, looking to her boss who nods in agreement, “So whatever you produced for last month’s story, that should be good.” 

You nod, making a note of that too, and then continue to zone out for the rest of the meeting as everyone talks amongst themselves, mind going right back to Javi and what he would feel like putting his weight on you, settling between your thighs. You really needed to get a grip. 

“Oh, isn’t it so nice to see such a good turn out today?” Your mom gushes, looking around at what feels like the whole of Laredo milling about a number of stalls that are selling all sorts of different things. 

“Sure is good to see,” Your dad agrees, putting his hands on your shoulders to give them a squeeze, “You want us to leave you to your reporting, pumpkin?” 

The nickname makes you wince a little, a moniker from your early days, before you’d filled out into your body. It was cute, but at twenty-five years of age, you do sometimes wish he’d find something else to call you. 

“I shouldn’t be too long,” You turn around and smile at him, “I can come and find you in a little while.” 

You wander around, introducing yourself to a few people asking them questions and jotting down notes. You’ve just finished speaking to Martina, famous throughout town for owning her own candle business, about why she’s supporting the foundation, when you step back and feel two sturdy hands holding onto your waist. You’re about to turn around and slap whoever it is for touching you, when that deep voice hits your ears.

“Careful, querida,” Javier fucking Peña, “Almost stood on my foot.” 

You whip around, mainly to put a bit of distance between the two of you, because it felt like his lips had been inches from your ear. He drops one of his hands, but keeps the other ghosting at your side, maybe to keep you steady more than anything as you wobble from the speed at which you’ve turned around. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t stand too close then?” You offer, making sure it comes out more playful than anything, because actually, all you really want is for his body to press against you more often. 

“Fair point,” He shrugs, “Thought I recognized you so I wanted to say hi,” He finally lets that other hand drop from your waist, “So hi.” Is... Is he nervous? 

You chuckle a little, “Hi,” you respond simply with a smile, “I didn’t expect to see you here,” You say honestly, this wasn’t his kind of scene before, you can’t imagine it’s any more appealing to him now, “Didn’t think it was your kind of scene.” 

He rubs a hand nervously over the back of his neck, “It’s not, I’ve been made to come,” He nods his head behind him where Chucho is talking to a group of other ranchers, “Apparently I’ve got to start showing my face more.” 

“Well, it’s a nice face,” your mouth speaks before your brain can catch up with what it’s saying, you inwardly cringe when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, I’m sure people are happy to see you around.” Is all you can think to say to try and get him to forget the weird compliment. 

He seems to smile, but like it had been across the table almost two weeks ago, his smile seems forced, “Just wish I could skip the bullshit about everyone being proud of me.” 

“But it’s true,” You shrug, moving away from the stall with him so other people can in front of you to look, “You did really good things out there.” 

He scoffs now, shaking his head a little, “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, querida,” He speaks, “Surely you should know that more than anyone.” 

You don’t know what he’s actually trying to say, but you decide to play it light, “Are you accusing me of lying in my stories, Peña?” You say with a smirk. 

“Perhaps not you,” He offers, “But I know plenty of journalists who know how to twist a story to get what they want,” He looks down at his shoes, kicking at the gravel a little, “Just don’t want you thinking I’m something I’m not.” 

“Been gone a long time,” You muse, “You might have to spend some time reminding me who you are.” 

It’s flirting the lines of maybe being too much you think, but you’ve not said anything that’s not true. He has been gone a long time, and if what he’s said is anything to go by, he will have to remind you of who he is or show you how he’s changed. 

“Not sure you’d like who I am now very much, querida.” He says simply. 

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, tell him you’re pretty sure that wouldn’t be true and that there isn’t a thing he could do on this earth that would make you think he was a bad person, but before you can, Chucho is coming up behind him, a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Ah, mija,” He smiles at you, “You here alone?” 

“Hey Chucho,” You greet with a smile, “Mom and dad are around somewhere, I’m just here working on a story.” You hold up your notepad and pen.

“Let’s see if we can’t find them, huh Javi?” Chucho muses to his son, “Get you a nice cold lemonade for when you’re finished?” He motions to the blazing sun and then back to you. 

“Sounds lovely, thank you,” You motion over their shoulder to where Dylan’s parents are stood, “I just need to speak to them, and I’ll come and find you.” 

Javi doesn’t say goodbye, just follows closely behind Chucho as they disappear into the crowds, leaving you to wander over to Dylan’s parents. They’re not strangers to the paper, your boss had written a story with them not long after Dylan’s funeral, trying to spread awareness as to just how deep the drug problem ran in town. The Laredo Morning Times had always been supportive to them, so you didn’t feel the same anxiety you normally did when gathering information for stories, cold calling or knocking on doors trying to introduce yourself before doors are swiftly shut in your face or phones are hung up with a ‘no comment’. 

They’re warm with you as you speak to them, thanking you for coming, thanking the paper for agreeing to cover the event, they even smile, which for a pair who lost their only son in such a horrible way still shocks you for some reason. Their loss hasn’t defined them, only made them stronger, made them determined to stop their pain from happening to anyone else. You make a note to write something equally as poetic in your article. 

The crowds are thinning out a little as the midday sun does its worst. You can feel beads of sweat gathering behind our knees and you curse the fact you hadn’t remembered your hat. You can feel the heat prickling your skin as you spot your parents, sitting on a picnic bench with Javi and Chucho sat opposite them. When you’re close enough to the table, you can see everyone has plastic cups full of lemonade, but there’s one, put in front of the spare spot on the bench next to Javi, that is pink in colour instead of the cloudy yellow of everyone else’s. 

“You get everything you need?” Your dad asks, as you try and fight your legs over the bench in the most graceful way possible. 

“Yeah,” You nod, “Think it’ll make a great piece, Dylan’s parents seem really positive about it all,” You pick up the cup and take a sip, pink lemonade, your favourite, “Thanks for this.” You nod in the direction of your dad. 

“Don’t thank me, Javi got these,” He smiles, “Remembered you preferred pink lemonade and everything.” 

It actually makes your heart swell in your chest. He was always thoughtful, even before he left. Observant almost to a fault. But even after all these years, all of his stress, everything he’s seen, he still knows you well enough to know you prefer the sweeter pink lemonade. You turn your head to him to find him already looking at you with a little smile on his face. 

“Thank you.” You say quietly, sipping through the straw. 

“You’re welcome, dulzura.” 

Javier Peña is doing a piss poor job of staying away from you, even by his standards. He lasted less than a week before he was waltzing over to you, hands on your waist, buying you pink lemonade because he knows you prefer it. There hasn’t been a night where he hasn’t wrapped his fist around his cock and made himself cum over the thought of you. He finds it easier to drop off to sleep once he’s done it, but his nights are still fitful, full of nightmares, tossing and turning, waking up to sweat soaked sheets and a heaving chest. He wonders briefly, when he lies awake watching the dawn arrive through his curtains, whether your body next to him would ease his nightmares? But then he thinks what if it doesn’t. What if you have to wake up, look at him with those innocent doe eyes and see him for what he really is?  No, he can’t let his darkness cloud you, you don’t deserve that, you deserve someone that going to be gentle with you, someone softer, not him with all his jagged edges. 

He's currently sitting in his truck, just outside of the liquor store, contemplating how badly he wants that packet of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey he’d driven out to buy. He’d done alright so far, chewing on his Nicorette gum, but his fingers are itching for the familiarity of a cigarette between his fingers, and he’d finished the bottle of whiskey last night. 

Then, almost like he’s being punished by God, which would make sense really, all things considered, you’re in his eyeline, walking down the street with a woman who is a little older than you, with your notepad and pen clutched in your hand. It’s late and he wonders where you must be going to report at such a late hour, and then he worries, because in his experience, nothing good happens after dark that worth making the newspapers. As the two of you approach him, he leans further out of his open window, holding his arm out to catch your attention. 

“Hey Javi,” You smile, coming to a stop in front of his window, “What are you doing in town?”

“Just picking a few things up,” He answers simply, because this isn’t about him, he needs to know where you’re going, “Where are you going this late?” 

You turn to the older woman you’re with, tell her to go on ahead and you’ll catch her up, “There’s been some kind of drugs bust a few streets over,” You explain, “Sounds like it might be quite big so we’re just going down to see what’s happening.” 

“Your dad working it?” He asks, because if he is, he knows you’ll be okay. 

You shake your head, “Nah, he’s not on nights right now,” You’re shifting back and forth on your feet, clearly itching to get going, “I’ll be alright though, sounds like plenty of dad’s officers are down there.” 

He turns his head back to the steering wheel and then back to you, “Be careful, alright?”

You smile at him again and if he’s not careful, he really could get used to being the person who draws that from you more often, “I know what I’m doing,” You chuckle slightly, and he doesn’t doubt it, not really, “Been covering this kinda shit for a while.” 

Without really thinking about it, he leans over, roots around in the glovebox and pulls out the little card he knows that’s in there. He passes it over to you, letting you take it, “It’s got my number on it,” He explains, “I’ve been in this shit and I just…” He trails off with a sigh, “Just, call me before you write something that might get you in trouble, okay?” 

“Worried about me, Peña?” You smirk, and he thinks above your smile, he’d like to make you smirk more too. 

“I’ve just seen too many good journalists write things that ruin their careers,” He shrugs, trying to play it off but probably doing a terrible job of it, “Don’t want you to make the same mistake.” 

He watches as you turn the card over in your fingers a few times, before smiling at him one last time, “I’ll call you if need you.” And he really hopes you do. 

In that moment, he gives up on trying to resist the call of the liquor store, pulling out his keys from the ignition and opening his door, climbing down onto the pavement. He stalls a little, before he puts a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze, “Go and get your story, reporter.” And then motions his head for you to go. 

He buys a bottle of whiskey and two packs of cigarettes, smokes two of them before he gets home. He thinks if he were a stronger man he’d have managed to quit, but he’s not, especially when it comes to you. Sure, he knew you before, but this new you? He’s known less than a month and he’s already struggling to stick to his own rules. He steps down from his truck back on the ranch, walks in and pours himself a healthy double, trying to convince himself it’ll be okay, he just needs to keep to himself, but when he’s led in bed at night, thinking of your sweet smile, he thinks this might just be another thing he fails at. 

It’s late. Too late for you to be awake when you have to be at the office in the morning, but you can’t stop looking at the series of numbers, printed on the little card, underneath the words ‘Javier Peña, DEA.’ It’s out of date, clearly, the DEA nothing more than a memory to him. But it’s the principle of it that matters most. He’s worried about you, and he would only worry if he cared right? 

You set it on your nightstand, switch off the little lamp and plunge yourself into darkness, right at the same time as you plunge your hand under your sleep shorts and through your folds. You’re soaked, because you always are when you think about him, it’s actually sort of pathetic. You sink two fingers into yourself, only briefly, letting out a satisfied breath, dragging your slick fingers back you to slowly circle your clit. 

It's new, the way you always need to take care of yourself. The brief relationship you’d had in college with James hadn’t given you much to work with, you hadn’t really felt desperation to get yourself off like this before. 

Your other hand, currently running over your peaked nipples through your tank top, is itching to reach across to your nightstand, pick up the phone and dial that number. You want to breathe down the phone at him, tell him you’re being so bad, that you need him to help, need that deep voice to guide you through it. As you press your fingers harder into your clit, speeding up your circles and bucking your hips, you wonder what he’d actually do if you did call him. Would he tell you to get lost? You don’t think he would, you think he’d do exactly as you asked, talk you through it. 

You imagine his voice in your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You imagine his hand replacing your own, sinking his fingers into you, using his thumb to work your clit, the rough of his moustache running over the skin of your neck as he kisses you there. It’s the image of him looking down at you, smiling as he makes you cum that tips you over the edge. That flood of relief that rushes through you as you bite down on your bottom lip to keep you from whispering his name as your body shakes through your orgasm. 

You wipe your slick fingers on the skin of your thigh, roll over in bed so your back is to the phone, trying to get your breathing under control. You drag the covers up under your chin, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without imagining his strong arm around your waist, his broad chest against your back. Does he snore? You wonder as you try and fall asleep. Would he keep you warm? It’s all running through your head as you sleep, conjuring up dreams that come morning have you realizing something has to give, you have to know, you have to have him. You needed Javier Peña more than the air you breathe, no matter how bad it was to admit that, no matter what it meant, no matter what it would cost, you needed him and you think to yourself as you drive to work, that he might just need you as much as you need him. 

[therobotmonster]

Let's talk about Toys in Cereal

This is a part of several posts of mine that have gotten big, but I figure it's best to address the phenomenon itself in a new post.

If you want to just browse a ton of cool old cereal toys once we're done, go to: www.cratercritters.com. It's a neat site.

Cereal toys are a long-standing American tradition. Some tag-questions asked if they went away because of greed or because of regulations, and that's complicated.

There are food regulations that complicate things. You may have heard that Kinder Eggs are not legal in the US.

This is usually framed as a "fear the stupid American Kids will eat the toy" kind of thing. This is not the case.

The actual regulation that blocks the Kinder Egg is about food safety from bacterial and undisclosed allergen contamination. Inserting a baggie with a toy into that exposes everything in the cereal bag to the outside of the toy package, and that's a no-no in the US market. The rare thing we're more strict about than the EU.

But that doesn't affect cereal toys, because they can get around it by having it in a separate package outside the food bag, between the inner back and the cardboard box. Much easier on the parents to find when you open the box, too.

Kinder has, themselves, addressed the US Kinder Egg problem the same way, with the Kinder Joy.

Splitting the package. into two sections that are individually sealed.

But a big blow to the practice was the end of the Australian R&L Toy Company.

R&L made tons of simple pack-in Premium toys from the 60s through the 80s. They were the primary supplier to Kelloggs, and made everything from simple one-piece figurines to little build-yourself-action-toys.

For instance, these "Wacky Walkers" worked by tying a string to the figure and the weight, then dropping the weight off a table. The figures would hobble forward on their feet, pulled by the weight. Neat-o!

Then there's stuff like these Toolybirds. I'd sell any one of you to the goblin king for a set of these, because I sure can't afford them at $25 apiece or more. I'll probably just make some dinosaur-knockoff version or somesuch to 3d print, eventually.

R&L went out of business in the 80s and its molds were sold to a toy manufacturing company in Mexico that produced their stuff as bag toys for awhile, before everything just faded away.

Meanwhile, the cereal market was forced to contract elsewhere without a devoted company doing essentially just that.

Liscenses came to the rescue. Fun fact, if you wanted toys from most of the Disney Afternoon, your only hope was Kellogg's.

As time went on, you started even getting software in cereal.

Chex gave out a free, PG-version of DOOM for free. Not a couple of demo levels, a whole game, run on the doom engine, with aliens you zap with a spoon.

But as time went on, companies got less and less into the idea of enticing with freebies, and parents started objecting to the marketing of sugar cereals with toy surprises, because given the opportunity, most parents will blame the company for making something the kid wants for their unwillingness to say "No."

The eternal conflict:

Cool thing the kid would enjoy that you might have to put your foot down over because enforcing moderation is a parent's job, verses unobjectionable conformist mush designed to increase your kids' "goodness levels."

I think the banning of cartoon mascots for snacks in certain countries is also ridiculous.

Thing is, any company could bring them back at any time.

The Monster cereals did figurines of their mascots in cosplay in 2021. Of course, they did it as a limited edition bullshit thing where the actual monster cereal mascots were chase figures, but they made them, they could do them at any time if they wanted to.

They could bring the magic back. Nothing is stopping them.

'cept there's no room for joy on the spreadsheet.

Gotta hit you with a little ennui. It's that ambergris stink that makes the perfume truly sweet.

[sleepyverstappens]

Race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase about bond with Max Verstappen: 'Never again with anyone else'

Although Gianpiero Lambiase is a nice person to be around and also an easy talker, he rarely or never gives interviews. But the down-to-earth Brit is also a man of his word and honors the agreement made at the beginning of this year. The delay makes it extra clear that he does not necessarily have to come to the fore and his extensive range of tasks during a racing weekend logically takes priority. Now that both championships have been won, Lambiase joins me. Who is behind that voice that can be heard so often during Grand Prix? The man who always sounds so calm. Except for that one time, after the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in 2021. So much so that many people still think that it is not Lambiase who is blaring on the radio, but the then reserve driver Alex Albon. Which is not the case.

Not a partygoer

The calm he so often radiates is one of his great qualities. “I think it is very important to be able to keep a driver calm in the heat of the moment,” said Lambiase. “That's just how I am, that's my character. What also plays a role is that – and I don't want to sound arrogant – I set the bar and my own expectations extremely high. Maybe too high. I want everything to go perfectly and I know full well that that's not possible. But it allows me to quickly rationalize and learn from disappointments. While maybe I don't celebrate the highlights as I could or should. Colleagues here will say that I am not a party goer, but that is just how I am.”

An example of this is the celebration, just hours after Verstappen won his third world title in Qatar. While he (Max) is once again lifted on the shoulders by his mechanics in the Red Bull garage, Lambiase walks with his hands in his pockets and casually walking to the start of the pit lane for the team's next photo opportunity. Another moment, last week in Mexico: when a fan has his picture taken with Lambiase, the local asks the engineer if everything is okay between him and Verstappen. It won't be the first and won't be the last time he hears that. Things sometimes get heated between the two, for example recently in Austin.

“But we never argue. Sometimes it takes more than one or two hours after a race to come together again. We both have adrenaline in our bodies, sometimes you need to have some time for yourself before you say things you will regret. And there are also moments when I think: I could have conveyed that better. Max will have that too. We may have different opinions, but in the evening or the next day it is always okay.”

Honesty underestimated Lambiase has been working at Red Bull since 2015 and has been active as a race engineer for fourteen years, so he knows better than anyone how good the mutual bond should be. “You know what is hugely underestimated? How important a part honesty plays in the relationship between a racing engineer and driver. Being yourself is crucial to working productively and efficiently. The moment you start thinking 'I don't know if I should say that, because he might get angry', you are on a lost cause."

So he is not afraid to push back from the pit wall. “I don't think Max would want it any other way either. He's not someone who wants to walk all over you. He is clear, to the point. That's how he was raised. His father Jos trained him wonderfully. I take over that task to a very small extent on the circuit, through my responsibilities as an engineer. That dynamic seems to work well. I'm not an expert in sports psychology at all, but you have to feel the character of a driver to achieve the optimal. That is something fundamental in my work: being able to trust each other blindly, but also having an eye for the emotional side. Especially nowadays, the mental aspect is increasingly important. It's not just about talent or the car, but how someone can deal with that talent and their emotions.”

In that respect, Verstappen seems to be doing well. And the Limburger has also been working with Lambiase to his full satisfaction since his first day at Red Bull's flagship. In fact, after winning his first world title, he even said that he would quit immediately if his race engineer gave up.

“But I can see through that. First of all, no one is irreplaceable. And secondly: there is no way that when I walk out that door tomorrow, Max's Formula 1 career will be over. It is nice that he says that and it shows how well we treat each other,” says GP, who now also reveals that there is an exclusive collaboration. “The day that Max and I no longer work together in this setting will be the day that I would like to take on a different challenge. I don't think it's fair to any other driver if we try to emulate what I've done with Max since May 2016. I see this as something incredibly special and don't think anything like this will happen again. So I hope that we will continue in this way until 2028 ( Verstappen's current contract runs til 2028, ed.). Unless he or the team decides otherwise of course…”

Important sensor At the pit wall, Lambiase is overloaded with information and data, but he emphasizes how crucial the input from the driver himself is. A regular occurrence during a race, for example, is the Englishman asking his Dutch companion whether he would like a different adjustment of the front wing during the next pit stop.

“We indeed receive a lot of information about the balance of the car and the condition of the tires. But the most important sensor is Max himself. We can make all kinds of assumptions, but these are such small margins. The feedback from a driver is very important.”

Since last year, Lambiase has also been the Head of Race Engineering at Red Bull Racing. As a race engineer, he has previously worked with Vitantonio Liuzzi, Paul di Resta, Verstappen's current teammate Sergio Pérez and his predecessor Daniil Kvyat. But what makes Verstappen so good? Hardly anyone can estimate this better than Lambiase. “In my opinion, he has learned a lot from the difficult moments that occurred in 2017 and 2018. He has developed a racing style that not many drivers have. In recent years he has also proven to be very skilled in risk management. In 2021 he understood that he had to finish every race and could not afford DNFs. That year was so incredibly important for his growth. With that title in his pocket and a competitive car in recent years, he can estimate very well how much risk he has to take on Sunday. And also during the qualifying sessions he knows that he does not always have to show his balls or be the 105 percent version of Max Verstappen.”

"I see this as something incredibly special and don't think anything like this will happen again."

Just as Lambiase says he learned a lot in his twenties during his early years in the world, with teams such as Jordan, Midland and Spyker. “I opened myself up to learning things from the smart people around me. Since then I have gained a lot of experience, also through all the technical and sporting changes in the regulations that have occurred. When Max was promoted to Red Bull in 2016, the days leading up to that first race in Barcelona were very hectic and tense. The expectations were sky-high and as a driver you have the feeling after such an intervention that you cannot disappoint the bosses. Of course, he already had a reputation and we quickly saw that he was an exceptional talent. I knew I was in it for the long haul with Max. That has also proven to be the case.”

Despite the many races and the associated travel, Lambiase is far from tired of his work. “This industry is so dynamic. The goalposts never stand still and we always strive for perfection. The excitement that comes with it is what challenges me. It may seem that way to people, but it is not easy to win even one Formula 1 race. Everything has to be right. You've seen this year in Singapore that when you do it wrong, you have a problem. The fact that Max has now won sixteen of the nineteen races is not just because the car is good. That is mainly because of him, and because we make the right decisions as a team.”

What does a race engineer do?

Four minutes. That's how long it takes Gianpiero Lambiase to briefly and concisely describe his many tasks as a race engineer. This goes much further than just talking to the driver during sessions on the asphalt. “Sometimes I wish that were the case,” he says, smiling. “As a race engineer at Red Bull, I am actually responsible for the entire operation of the car on the track. And I work together with all our specialists in the field of aerodynamics, simulations, the engine, you name it. Everything to try to have the best and efficient package on the track as possible.”

It doesn't stop there. “As is known, most of the development of the car takes place in the factory in England. But we as engineers at the circuit itself have the task of testing these new parts and thus drawing the right conclusions. Sometimes this is for the short term, to benefit from it during the race weekend. But sometimes also for the long term for the design of the car, for example for the following year.”

Of course, the car's setup often involves a lot of tinkering during the weekend itself. “Then it is important that the set-up and balance of the car are to Max's liking. That it doesn't have too much understeer or oversteer. There are hundreds of things we can change mechanically or aerodynamically, based on simulations, but also what we invented ourselves on the track during training. I also think I have an important voice in the strategy. As a race engineer you have a fairly large overview and you are in fact the person between the driver and the team. The driver's feeling is evident. In addition, our feedback to the factory must be good, for example what are the things that Max encounters. That in turn helps them to further develop the car.”

​

[captain-mj]

That memory loss fic has done me in. I’m on my knees, captain. A part 2 would make my week <3

I've seen the requests and I got you guys!! Was planning on this being the last part, but uh... it got rather long lol.

Price had escaped relatively unscathed despite how hard that punch was. Soap wasn’t too surprised, Price was very tough. It didn’t stop Graves from fussing over him. 

“Uh, Captain?” He knocked and interrupted them. “Ghost is still...”

Price sighed, sitting back in his seat. “Any luck figuring out what’s going on?”

“Yes, actually. He thinks he’s been with a Roba for four months. Thought I heard you two mention the name before.” 

Price visibly paled a little. “Ah. That’s not good. That’s not good at all.”

“Who is he?”

“Cartel leader a few years back. He had several soldiers taken. Experimentation, brainwashing, conditioning. It was nasty. Simon ended up the only person surviving it.” 

Graves stood up. “I don’t think Ghost would want me around for this. I’ll see you two later.” He kissed Price’s cheek, punched Soap’s shoulder and left. 

Soap nodded at him before continuing. “He thinks he’s four months in. He’s paranoid, not as much as I was expecting though. Let me give him a drink and only bit me once.”

Price nodded. “He’s not going to wear a mask like this. He didn’t back then. It would explain why he reacted that way in the van.”

Soap nodded. “Couldn’t see our faces.” 

“I meant the skulls. Roba wore skull face paint. Had all his men wear it too. Not to mention a couple of other nasty memories. It’s why Ghost wears it. Symbol of fear for him.” Price sighed. “Did you try explaining?”

Soap was a little caught up in the information he was just given. He didn’t understand why Ghost would wear something that would remind him of his past like that. 

“I told him he lost his memories and he said that’s a new form of brainwashing. Basically brushed me off. Gets real upset when you call him Ghost to. He also... made a couple concerning comments.... He mentioned a Lady. I said I’d reward him if he’d work with me and he said he didn’t want the Lady. Didn’t really specify. You know anything about that?”

“No. I’ll tell the nurses though. We’ll keep women from going in there alone, just in case. Doubt he’ll attack them, but we don’t want him anymore scared than necessary.” Price shook his head. “I hope we get this figured out soon. If not, he might have to go on leave and possibly discharged.”

Soap knew what that meant. If it goes on, Simon will disappear. He wasn’t technically alive. They’d be dumping him on the street. 

“Sir, I’m aware that Ghost doesn’t have any living family.”

“Don’t tell him.” Price said immediately. “I’ll make sure everyone knows. We need to make sure he does not find out.” 

“Why not? If he doesn’t wake up and he knows we lied...”

“Soap, that is a very valid worry. But Ghost right now is a very big flight risk. I’m... Simon will try to commit. He did it the first time he found out and he tried twice our first month of working together. He’s fragile. He can be pissed at us later. Right now, we have enough problems without needing him on suicide watch.” Price whispered it to him and Soap’s stomach turned.

“What do you mean tried to commit?? You’re telling me a man with three suicide attempts is allowed in the fucking army?” Soap hissed at Price. Besides the rules and regulations around those things, if Ghost really did try and Price just fucking let him go back. Let him on the field with big guns and plenty of opportunities to fucking die. Soap gritted his teeth to Keep himself quiet.

“Look, he’s legally dead. I know it’s hard to understand, but when he wasn’t let back in, he went to Mexico himself and destroyed an entire cartel single handedly. You want him walking the streets? Near civilians? Yes, in the beginning, he struggled. Was convinced he was dead. That he had never crawled out of the graves. Used to say and do shit that concerned me. He’s better.”

“Better? He wears a mask constantly and avoids conversation like the plague.”

“You didn’t see it.” Price suddenly sounded very far away. “I’m worried you’re about to, but you didn’t see it. You think Ghost is fucked up now? He walked around like a goddamn corpse. He found his family murdered only a few months after being tortured and buried alive. I feel like all things considered, he’s better than most.” 

Soap was still angry. So goddamn angry. He just didn’t think it was directed at Price. “When was the last time he... attempted?”

“Over a year ago. He’s been clean since. I check him occasionally.” Price sighed. “I... need you to keep an eye on him. He won’t be as slippery as he is now, not as experienced, but he’s smart as hell.” He shook his head lightly.

“Will do, sir.”

“Soap, I know you two are close. I trust you, okay? Be careful with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Price shook his head and looked away. Soap could see the exhaustion sound like the plague.

“How long did they have him?”

“Seven months.” Price sighed. 

Soap nodded and then left Price’s office. He made his way straight to Ghost who was asleep now. One of the nurses smiled awkwardly.

“Gave him some drugs in his iv. Sedative and a painkiller.”

“Thought you weren’t supposed to sleep with a head wound?”

“Only when you first get them. He’ll be fine.” The nurse reassured. “You can sit with him as long as you want.” She took her leave and he settled next to Ghost again.

Soap hesitated before leaving for just a moment to grab his sketching tools. With his sketchbook and pencils, he started to sketch him. He so rarely got him maskless like this. He drew him with a loving amount of detail, including each scar and fleck on his skin. It passed the time as he waited for him to wake up.

After a moment, he reached over carefully and felt under his shirt, feeling the raised ridges of his scarring. When he had seen it, Ghost had explained it had occurred while he was captivity one time. They had made him. He had looked so ashamed that Soap hadn’t pressed.

Ghost yawned and looked up at him sleepily. “You’re here again. You were gone a while.”

Soap frowned. “Wasn’t gone too long.”

Ghost frowned at him, not saying anything. He noticed the book and tilted his head.

“Just taking notes.” Soap answered the question before he asked. He smiled gently. “Sleep well?”

“This bed is better than the concrete floor.” Ghost answered smoothly, smiling a little. It felt like an odd attempt at being suave. Soap blinked and nodded.

“Are sure? These beds might as well be made of rocks.” Soap laughed a little, trying to study the smile on the his face. He looked younger. Small.

Ghost looked away. “Didn’t say it was that much better.” He was clearly smiling again but he didn’t let Soap see it. Instead, he stretched as much as he could while cuffed and winced. “Morphine? That’s new.”

“How did you know it was morphine?”

“I’ve had to use it once or twice. Doesn’t have much of an effect on me but it takes the edge off.” Simon relaxed back into the pillows. “I’m starting to think you’re a dream. You were gone a while.”

“How long was I gone?”

“I don’t know. Time is funny.” Simon waved him off.

“What is usually used?”

“Opioids. Benzos. Hallucinogens. You guys keep me hiiiiiiiigh as a kite.” Simon’s words started to sound funny and Soap wondered if they maybe gave him a touch too much morphine.

“Well, like I said, i’m here to keep you safe.”

“Liar. They were just torturing me.” 

“I don’t think fixing your iv is torturing you. Or poking at your bandages.” Soap smiled indulgently.

“One of them cut me open and cut out parts of my liver.” Ghost looked at him and Soap felt his breath catch at the aching sincerity there. “He fed a piece to me. I’d really prefer if you didn’t say you’ll keep me safe. You’ll just waste your breath. I know when you leave, it’ll start again.” 

Soap stared at him. It must’ve been while he was asleep that he dreamed this. He looked at Ghost’s chest, what little he could see. Ghost had a giant y-shaped scar across his entire torso. 

Soap leaned over and touched his hand. “Are you okay?”

Simon stared at him before slowly relaxing. “I’m fine. It’s weird. I feel like I know you.”

“You do. You do know me.”

“No, I don’t.” Simon pleaded. “I don’t know you.” 

“Yes, you do, Ghost.”

“I’m not dead.” Simon said coldly. “I’m not dead. You can’t convince me I’m dead.”

“You’re right. You’re not dead. You’re right here with me.” Soap reassured, reaching up and gently tracing his jaw. Simon looked distressed.

“Stop it. Stop it.”

“What do you want me to stop doing?”

“You’re in my head. You’re messing with me.”

“No, I’m not. I promise you’re safe. I’m not going to leave again.” Soap comforted him until Simon weakly shook his head and dropped his head onto the pillow. 

“Please...” Simon mumbled, staring up at him. “Please, I don’t want them to go back to the rainbow room. I don’t want the Lady.”

“No one is going to, Simon. I promise. Why don’t you go back to sleep? Aren’t you tired?”

Simon hummed, clearly fighting sleep. He did so for a while before giving in. 

Soap took a deep breath and settled back down. His hands were shaking. After a moment of consideration, he messaged Price to update him, telling him that Simon woke up for a while before going back to sleep. 

Before long, Soap ended up falling asleep in his chair, focusing on the steady beat of Ghost’s heart monitor.

Screaming. It shocked him awake and he jerked up, watching Simon writhe and scream as loud as he could.

“Make it stop. Please make it stop.” Simon mumbled between ear shattering wails. 

Price and Gaz were suddenly there, both just as panicked as Soap was. They tried to hold him down and watched as he thrashed, yanking so hard on his restraints that for a moment Soap wondered if his wrist would snap. 

Then, his wrist snapped. 

Simon choked out, sounding so angry. “You promised. You promised you wouldn’t leave. There’s so much blood.”

Price grabbed Simon’s shoulders, pinning him down. “There is no blood. You’re safe.”

“it hurts it hurts so much. I don’t want it. I don’t want them.”

“I know, Simon. i know it hurts.” Price reassured. “You hurt yourself.”

“You bastards hurt me.” Simon hissed at him, but he was shaking so hard now. They were all trying to hold him down as much as they could. “Please. Please.” He begged, pleaded with Price to make it stop.

Price just stared at him, holding his shoulders down. He looked so helpless that Soap felt sick. 

“I know, son. I’m so sorry.”

“He promised. He promised he wouldn’t leave.”

“I didn’t leave.” Soap said softly, though he was looking at Price. “I think he’s dreaming through his memories. Said something about me being gone a long time earlier.”

“Shit. Can’t really protect him from that.” Gaz said softly as Simon finally stopped struggling, staring at the roof.

“Who’s the Lady?”

“Pilar. Her name was Pilar. She can do things with her hips that men would kill for.” Simon mumbled and it sounded like he was quoting someone. He eventually closed his eyes. “I don’t want her.” 

Soap felt like he was going to be sick. He traced the Glasgow smile on Simon’s face, despite Price’s alarmed look. “I’m sorry.”

“You left.” 

“I didn’t mean to.” Soap decided. “How long was I gone?” 

“It’s been... I don’t know. I think its been a month since we first met. It’s so hard. Time runs together.”

Soap bit his lip, feeling a hole digging in his chest. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure when you see me, it’s nice.” 

“Fuck you.” Simon eventually coughed out and then just fell back against the bed. “Fucking hell.” He tried to curl away from their hands but it didn’t work. Ghost continued to shake for a while and they retracted their hands. 

Gaz sighed shakily. “Is he... okay?”

“Go back to bed, Kyle.” Price smiled. “We’ll watch him.”

Gaz nodded and quietly stepped back. He left them alone. 

Price shook his head. “Simon. Roba is dead.”

“No, he’s not. I see him. He’s there when I close my eyes.”

“Simon...” Price said softly. “This all happened a very long time ago.”

“Except it didn’t.” Soap pointed out. “To him, it feels like its right now. He’s currently going through it and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.” 

Small tag list of people who asked for pt 2 @sad-innit @confuseddipshit @lildoodlenoodle @imfeelingdizzy @robo-hips @cactusisconfused

[coimbrabertone]

Building a Schedule for Indycar: the Struggles of a Recovering Series.

So, in the past week, the shoe dropped - Indycar announced they were going to Fox for 2025. People immediately got fired up, worried that all the worst features of the Fox NASCAR booth were going to infect Indycar and kneecap a series that has such good racing and needs to grow.

Ultimately though, I don't think that's going to be all that much of a problem, actually.

IMS Productions will remain involved in the television product and Fox will put every race on network Fox. That I think is a good thing, and it should give Indycar an opportunity to grow.

What I'm more interested in, however, is the 2025 schedule dropped today as well, and that...disappointed me quite a bit.

The schedule is more or less the same as 2024, with two caveats: one is that Thermal Club is going to be a points race now, and Milwaukee will be a single race instead of a doubleheader like it's scheduled to be in 2024.

This...isn't particularly good.

The biggest reason has little to do with Indycar. That is that, like I've talked about before, NASCAR is flirting with going international as soon as 2025, and it's no secret that they've been flirting with Autodromo Hermanos Rodriguez in Mexico City, and the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve in Montreal. Both of which hosted Nationwide Series races as recently as the 2000s, but they would be firsts for the Cup series.

The only previous Cup races outside of the US were exhibition events. Calder Park, Australia in 1988, Suzuka, Japan in 1996 and 1997, and then Twin Ring Motegi, also in Japan, in 1998.

Indycar, meanwhile, has a long series of international races - see my Champ Car: the World Series that Actually Was blogpost for details there - but that has disappeared. In 2024 and 2025, Toronto will be the only Indycar race outside of the United States.

That is not good enough.

In terms of drivers, Indycar is as international as it has ever been, but the newest race on the calendar is the return to the Milwaukee Mile. I think that's neat, but, with all due respect, nobody in Milwaukee gives a crap about seeing Rinus VeeKay racing against Linus Lundqvist. Go to Europe, particularly to a track that has been ignored and mistreated by F1, and you might just have an audience that does want to see those guys race.

Even if Europe is too much, too soon, what about Pato's rabid popularity in Mexico? What about the long history of Indycar drivers from Brazil? What about the fact that between Scott McLaughlin, Scott Dixon, and Will Power, about half the guys that have won this season have been won by guys from New Zealand and Australia. Tap into that market.

If you don't, well...half the Supercars field is moonlighting in NASCAR these days and Kyle Busch is now being linked with a Bathurst 1000 ride.

If Indycar doesn't start planning something now, NASCAR is going to beat them to down under as well.

I feel passionately that Indycar needs to expand internationally again. I'm not saying that it needs to be all it once, but please, start doing something, because your rivals aren't standing still.

And now for the other problem.

Ovals are a hard sell nowadays. I understand that. They're far away from city centers, many have underwhelming amenities, and a lot of casuals see it and just think it's a bunch of left turns. I understand all of that, however...

The Indianapolis 500 is the only big oval left on the schedule. It is the only track 1.5 miles or larger on the schedule, and it will be next year as well.

That is a problem.

More than that, it is starting to show in the oval racing product. A stat came out after the Indianapolis 500 saying that Josef and Pato have finished 1-2 eight times in recent history. Looking into it more specifically, six of those are on ovals dating back to Gateway 2020. Since then, only two indycar oval races have featured a top two that did not include either Josef or Pato:

Texas 2021 race one, when Scott Dixon won over Scott McLaughlin. Indianapolis 2021, when Helio Castroneves won over Alex Palou. More broadly, going back to Texas 2020, the top two oval finishes include the following drivers: Scott Dixon, Simon Pagenaud, Josef Newgarden, Will Power, Takuma Sato, Patricio O'Ward, Scott McLaughlin, Helio Castroneves, Marcus Ericsson, and David Malukas.

That is ten drivers.

Simon Pagenaud, Takuma Sato, and Helio Castroneves have all more or less retired.

Down to seven.

Of the remaining seven, Pato O'Ward and David Malukas are the only ones that can really be described as young. Marcus Ericsson and Scott McLaughlin are older, but they came from F1 and Supercars, respectively, so I can count them in the new pile as well.

Other than those four, the ovals have been dominated by experienced guys who have been in Indycar for years.

There is a severe lack of top end oval talent from the young drivers in Indycar. One reason for that is that the Freedom 100 is gone, and IndyNXT drivers don't get much preparation for the big tracks.

The other is that Texas Motor Speedway is gone too, so those young drivers, whether they be from IndyNXT or the European ladder, aren't getting that experience in Indycar either.

At minimum, Indycar should put one of their smaller ovals ahead of the Indianapolis 500 to make sure drivers are prepared for the 500.

Beyond that, then I think Indycar should make it a priority to add one or two big ovals to the schedule. Return to TMS, revive an old race like Homestead, Kansas, or Michigan, go to one of the unused NASCAR tracks like Kentucky or Chicagoland, I'm not being picky. Just do something to make sure our drivers are getting experience on these types of tracks.

Otherwise, you're just going to keep seeing Josef Newgarden win on the ovals, occasionally challenged by Pato O'Ward, one of his Penske teammates in the form of McLaughlin or Power, or Scott Dixon pulling some bullshit fuel strategy out of his asshole.

I understand that purists are happy about Milwaukee coming back, I understand that there is a portion of the fanbase that desperately wants the Cleveland airport race to come back, but I ask the fans to think of this: what does Milwaukee do that Iowa doesn't? What does Cleveland do that Mid-Ohio or Toronto don't?

I'm not saying this to disparage Milwaukee or Cleveland either. I like that Milwaukee is back and I'd love to see a Cleveland revival as much as anyone else, but those won't really move the needle.

What I think might is an international expansion.

What I think might is more opportunities for Indycar to show off that brilliant racing from the Indianapolis 500 - all the reactions coming out of Indy were about how people can't wait to see that again. Well, they got to wait a year for it. Indy is all we got in terms of superspeedway racing.

Just after we got two back-to-back good races at Texas though, with a Penske duel in 2022, and Pato dominating 2023 before a caution gave Josef Newgarden the opportunity to snatch a win.

Indycar is a long way off the peaks of the CART era and everyone has different ideas on how to get the series back on the right track, but in my opinion, these are the two most important things schedule wise. Tap into the international market and get on the big ovals again. Both because the series needs to, and because that 200+ mile per hour racing product is something super special that only Indycar has.

On a more personal note...

I usually try to post these on Monday but I'm a bit behind on my AO3 writing right now so I wanted to get this out of the way now. I might have a small blogpost out next week coming out of the 24 Hours of Le Mans, but consider this the main blogpost for June 17th.

In the meantime, I have a chapter for my NASCAR story to finish, and then I need to have a chapter for my CART story done by the 23rd.

No rest for the wicked.

[bunnytalksf1]

Charles Leclerc is the lone star of Austin

What a race.

Ferrari had the fastest car. The sprint disguised it because Sainz decided to fight with his teammate harder than literally anyone else on the track, but the win was in reach there, too, and the squabbling somewhat disguised it. Regardless, especially on the mediums, the pace was great, and even if Verstappen and Norris hadn't squabbled at turn one, Ferrari would have been in touching distance of that win. A brilliant and bold and calculated move by Leclerc from the even side of the grid in turn one gave him the lead, and he never looked back, managing a safety car restart and his tyres to build a gap of eight seconds at the flag to his teammate. After the successful undercut on Verstappen, the Ferraris simply became untouchable, and the scuderia got its second 1-2 of the season. Genuinely brilliant result for them, putting them back in touch with the constructors', and a much better result than last year's DSQ for Leclerc.

So, with the Ferraris both so far adrift that the TV direction ignored them the whole time, what else happened?

The most glaring: Verstappen extended his championship lead on Norris, finishing ahead of him in both the sprint and the GP, after penalties. I might do a seperate post talking about stewarding because there's been a lot of complaining going on about decisions this weekend, but-- I digress.

Norris came into Austin needing to outscore Verstappen by an average of ten points a weekend in order to beat him to the WDC. That number is now twelve. Regardless of the outcome of the penalty (which, according to the rulebook was justified), Norris would not have gotten the points he needed this weekend unless he won, or caught Sainz, which didn't look to be happening. Verstappen drove an incredible defense for ten laps which not only had me biting my fist, but genuinely deserved to give him a punt at dotd, which he sadly did not win, but my God, incredible.

Lewis Hamilton spun out on like, lap two, and the ensuing safety car gave me an actual heart attack, but George Russell, without the upgrades, drove from the pitlane to P6, in an incredible stint on the hards to start before hunting on the mediums. Mercedes may well rescind some upgrades into Mexico, since they seemed to not effect the balance very well when looking at GR's crash in quali and Hamilton's in the race. Regardless, a missed opportunity for Mercedes here, they had pace.

The long first stint followed by the hunt on the medium also worked well for Lawson, who drove from P19 to P9 to secure two points for RB. Strategy really helped him out, but it was a phenomenal drive from him.

I don't have much to say about this race other than it was chaotic. A lot was going on in the midfield all the time, enough that I couldn't really keep track. Colapinto again hung Albon out to dry, Perez was miles off Verstappen, and the Haases had a really solid weekend. On to Mexico!

[gossipsnake]

TIMING: Summer, 2011 LOCATION: Tabasco, Mexico PARTIES:  Anita, Selena Nieves (mother), and Alejandro Nieves (father) SUMMARY: A flashback to the last time Anita saw her mother, when she was 22. CONTENT: emotional manipulation/bad parent-child relationship

“When we let you go to America, when we let you go see what was out there in the world, I thought you were smart enough to understand that it was only temporary. You wanted to go off, to learn about insects, to see more of the world, to meet different kinds of lamia… yes? And you have gone off, you have done that, yes? Yes, of course you have! Four years, Anita. Four years you have taken our money, our good will, and left our family with one less member contributing to our livelihood and our protection. I let you because your father convinced me you just needed to get it all out of your system - these foolish ideas of school and of leaving your family. And now here we are - you went off and you played dress up, you lived among the humans and you played your part pretending to be one of them. Instead of being gracious for that opportunity now you say you are not done? You love humans that much, is that it?”

Anita hadn’t expected her family to show up to her undergraduate graduation ceremony, not really anyway. Foolishly perhaps she held out hope that her father might have come but she knew that he would not defy his wife just to please his daughter. Would they have come had they known that would be the exact moment that she decided to accept the offer to go to graduate school, as she walked across the stage to collect her college diploma to the sound of silence? “This has nothing to do with humans, I’ve told you that countless times. I despise them as you do, mama. But the things I have been able to learn, the things I get to do in these classes…” 

“Do not pretend this is about the bugs. All of a sudden there are not enough bugs here for you to look at? For you to put in your little containers and take notes about? Your father works with bugs every single day! That is your path, to work with him, take over the business, keep providing for the family. What is the problem? You want bugs, and this is bugs.”

Looking over at her father as he sat across the room in silence almost felt like a louder act of disappointment to Anita than the lecture she was receiving from her mother. Had they discussed this all before she came home? Did he agree, or did he just not care to protest? “I had the second highest grades within my major,” she said softly knowing the achievement would not be met with any positive impression. “I just want to keep learning. You always speak about how connected we are, by our nature, to the natural world around us. Is it so bad to want to learn more about that world?” 

“To want to learn about it from humans? Yes, Anita, that really is so bad. The fact that you do not realize that? Well that is proof enough that you have spent too much time among them, too much time away from your family. If you find it impressive that you have sat before them, obedient, responsive, answering their questions, performing tasks at their request all for them to judge your ability to do so against humans … then perhaps you are too far gone.”

“Selena,” a flutter of hope rushed through Anita when she heard her father finally speak, seemingly signaling that she had gone too far. But it seemed his flutter of confidence didn’t last quite as long as her flutter of hope had. “No, I mean it.” Selena retorted, standing up and raising her hands up in exasperation, “I did not raise my daughters to want to be around humans for any reason other than to eat them. No daughter of mine would be sitting here and saying these things. This person sitting here… she is not my daughter. ” 

Her father didn’t say another word as her mother exited the room without so much as a final glance in Anita’s direction. The room remained quiet for an agonizingly long time as Anita sat there waiting for him to say something else, anything else. Observation was failing her as his body language failed to give insight into what was going on inside of his mind. The silence soon became so overwhelmingly loud, as Anita could not help but fill it with presumptions of his silence. Maybe he simply did not have the guts to disown her so directly as her mother had just done. Maybe he was waiting for Anita to cave and say she would return home, for good. 

Whether it was a battle of will or a battle of cowardice that the two were engaged in, Anita didn’t want any part of it any longer. Standing up she began to gather her things, still unwilling to be the one to break the silence and preparing to accept that might mean never getting to say goodbye to her father - her papi. As she started walking towards the front door, however,  she felt a hand on her shoulder. “I will send money, mi culebra, but maybe it is for the best if you do go.” 

Anita nodded but felt frozen and unable to do anything else, fearful that any movement would unleash the tears building up in her eyes. As she felt his hand fall from her shoulder and heard his footsteps begin to walk away, she was able to reach out for the door handle and swing it open, ushering herself outside before her tears finally fell. 

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

Omgosh Hia!!! Tis a great and grand day, so for once I’m not sulking for NJ angst, or anything about Jersey actually. I wish to see some of that good good Texas angst, you know, for the funnsies! (Gosh this sounds so modern lolz, normally I don’t modern slang. Anyways we won against Texas tonight so that’s the whole reason for this XD)

YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT PERSON MY DEAR FRIEND :)

(Listen I love torturing Texas sm. He just has so many angsting opportunities.)

I’m gonna out these under the cut tho, just in case.

Texas has some nerve damage in his eye and side, which is where he happened to have been given two star scars, courtesy of Mexico’s A+ parenting.

He’s VERY insecure about the tiny bit of pudge that he has. He doesn’t care that it’s not that much or that he can’t help it. He hates it. And he’s tried starving it away a few times, but he never got that far. Someone just hold and kiss the poor thing 😭

He’s ambidextrous, but he doesn’t use his left hand. Why? Well. Growing up, being left handed or using his left hand was forbidden. So um. Yeah his left hand was broken multiple times throughout his life (or at least until it wasn’t forbidden anymore) and now he either can’t feel his hand or he can feel it way too much. And it on days where he can feel it, it hurts A LOT. But he still uses it. Oh! And his hand is really shaky and tbh, I’m not sure that it healed right.

I feel like he definitely has a bunch of branding on him from when Mexico owned him.

This mf can handle A LOT of pain, or at least he’ll make it look like it cuz yknow. He doesn’t want to be scene as weak.

A vast majority of the deaths hes had were absolutely BRUTAL. And painful in most cases too. Even if they were somewhat quick deaths. Safe to say that anyone present needed new pants after.

^at least three of them were from him getting his torso crushed, and he now has a LOT of nerve damage and chronic pain in his back and torso. Mostly his back. And there’s a bunch of scarring too.

^lets not forget about Confederate repeatedly slamming him into a wall (or tree I can’t remember) until he went unconscious.

Listen- for each of his lives no matter what parents he got, he’s gone to church. And honestly, Texas was probably part of the worship team (basically the band that sings the music for non denominational and Pentecostal churches) for a LOT of them. And he absolutely LOVED it. He loved being a part of those teams with other cool people and being able to sing and all that. BUT. A lot of times, the church’s and/or his parents’ views ruined it for him and he kinda dislikes it now. And he’s trans and bisexual too so- r.i.p.

He’s the type to start dissociating when he gets yelled at and go completely nonverbal. He hates it but. He hates being yelled at more.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Texas loves cuddles, and he loves hugs, but. He CANNOT. I repeat. CANNOT. Handle having his arms and/or legs restrained from moving, since he can’t defend himself and he has no idea who has intentions of hurting him or not.

He also CANNOT handle being approached on his blind side. He might panic. He will freeze up. He can’t see whoever approached him, and he doesn’t know who they are or what their intentions are.

^and because I must, PA is an asshole and finds joy in scaring other states, mainly the bigger "tougher" states like Texas, so sometimes he’ll just sneak up on Texas on his blindside and yell "boo!" or smth. They usually end of fighting after since Texas is the type to resort to "fight" in the event that someone scares him. So um. Yeah.

[misery-has-no-company-now]

I'm writing a fic and all I can say is that North Dakota has a very soft voice, I just know this. Like he's the type of state to speak barely above a whisper and it can be a little hard to hear him at times - especially in a noisy environment but he doesn't speak much anyway so it's usually not a problem. I feel like he's the shyer twin (since there's less opportunity for him to socialise much anyway due to his population) and typically follows South Dakota around everywhere.

If you look at it, except maybe the video in which he tells Alaska about his Fargo Frost Festival (and even in that I'm not entirely sure that South Dakota wasn't there), North Dakota never - or at least rarely - appears unless South Dakota is there too at some point of time. SD can be called to the table with either the one for the Dakotas or the one for Montana, but ND only comes with the first one. I think North Dakota sort of prefers to just stay there in the shadow (kind of like Alaska tbh) whenever he does go out and just let his brother do all the talking.

This could be something that is now a preference, but I'd like to think that it stems from that when they were younger, South Dakota always answered any questions directed towards the both of them, and generally spoke on his behalf as well since he was more excited to speak and less nervous than North Dakota was; so that habit of SD being the one to talk stuck and continues even till now. [The reason I hc this is because it's sort of like what happened with me and my twin too - as whenever someone asked us something he'd always reply faster and louder so eventually I just left the talking to him, instead simply standing there silently and I can see this happening with the Dakotas just that it's more of ND being too nervous to speak first rather than not getting the chance to at all.]

Also coming back to what I was saying about Norda having a soft voice : firstly he's quiet by nature. Also his ears are sensitive, so loud noises hurt him a lot quite often. This can mean that he doesn't feel like speaking louder since the sound of that pains him. He's even known as one of those few states least likely to yell at another [despite how much SD might aggravate him] since being loud hurts his throat too and shouting would definitely strain his frequently unused voice cords to the extent that he gets a sore voice [honestly, at this point I should just put everything about me as a trait of North Dakota lmao].

For the record, does anyone else here think he looks incredibly cute? Like I know it's the same person obviously but there's just something about how North Dakota looks and acts specifically that makes my heart melt at how adorable he is, with the only other states I get this from being Alaska, Indiana, New Mexico, and (ik this is random for me) Vermont. So...yeah.

[hearsayhorizons]

A Gift for Spiders-Man

On infinite earths, in infinite universes, it still surprises “him” when—cast adrift during some interdimensional battleworld event—“he” finds this one.

The first time “he” bursts into spiders to traverse a wall and save a citizen from a mugging, she doesn’t scream, not at “him.” Not when “he” webs up the crook. The mugger bursting into flies—that’s new, and exciting to parts of “him” that the Parker memory doesn’t like to think about. 

But the victim doesn’t run even when “he” swarms back to “himself” after—after the meal.

“I just killed someone,” “he” says. He’s staring at the jittery stacks of arachnids that make up his hands.

“He was already dead,” the mugging victim says. “I wouldn’t choose flies, but I guess—it’s not always a choice. I guess they found him.”

And that’s a trip, a real trip, and results in fumbling “his” mask-spiders. She doesn’t seem to recognize Peter Parker, and that’s good. The two (two-and-many?) of them tuck themselves away in a little cafe where she orders a coffee and “he” gets some kind of pouch full of fluid—Peter Parker won’t think about it, but it’s really good in a way most food isn’t anymore, since the—loss? Takeover? It’s like a weird Capri Sun, and that makes him a little homesick, or nostalgic. “He” mostly can’t eat anymore because “his”—bodies—can’t eat the way “his”—mind—wants to, but this seems to be tailor-made for “him.” Them.

Her name is Nita and her father is a nest of carpenter ants.

Out of providence (or, or maybe this is all a self-delusion but he/they’ll let it last as long as he/they can)—it’s actually typical for people here to give their dying or dead bodies to insects, and for those insects to carry forward the consciousness of their... victims? Donations?

“Sometimes they use it as an opportunity to tidy up their loose ends, and say their goodbyes,” Nita says. “Butterflies of whatever kind are popular for that. Let them sip up the blood and three weeks later you’re dissipating for good. Some people—my dad—know what they want with their life and want to keep doing it.” Nita tilts her hand back and forth. “I’ve never put much thought into it, me. Maybe I’ll lay down in a milkweed field and go with the monarchs. I always wanted to see Mexico.”

She tilts her head. “Why’d you go with spiders? And—are the heroics your last hurrah, or your path forward?”

And that is a conversation for a few more coffees, and pouches. What comes out is a tangled web of narrative, and guilt, and loss and despair at his home dimension.

He/they’re used to people staring. He/they’re used to fear, disgust, and pity from Peter Parker’s loved ones. This is like—this is like when he overheard a guy admit to someone in sophomore year that he didn’t have his own bed, his own stuff, until he escaped to the dorms. How a pillow he chose, as many blankets as he wanted, were better than he ever imagined. And Peter took it for  granted, until he heard that. And now he has a body that no longer sleeps that way at all.

Nita’s face says she was taking this weird afterlife for granted. And she—she actually rests her hand, gently, on the carapaces and seething shapes that “Peter” has shaped like hands.

“Hey,” she says. “You can stay here. I imagine going back might be the hard part. You can stay here, and—my dad and I can help you with a memorial for Peter Parker, if you like. And you can dissipate, or you can keep saving people’s purses. But that’ll be your choice, in a place where either choice is valid.”

He/they aren’t sure whether the other heroes involved in the latest battleworld fiasco make it home, and for a little while, they don’t care.

Gwen Stacy is dead here, too, but her dragonflies have kept on going; she’s an engineer with a focus on structural safety. Her bugs get along with the spiders well enough.

[ajoytobeheld]

Ellen: it's been an awfully big adventure

December 7th, 2012

I don’t know how to start this, other then diving right in so….I’ll dive.

It is with a sad face I have to report that I am leaving Los Campesinos!. The show on the 15th of December in London will be my last, and I shall spend it struggling not to cry. Please don’t point out my tears if you come along. Simply pretend it is eye sweat.

Over the last seven years I have been blessed, not by God, because he doesn’t exist, but with opportunities and a life I will not fully appreciate until I am about forty-five. I will look back at old photos of the band, with our smooth skin and questionable hair, and go “fuck me. That was mental.”

The past and present members of Los Campesinos! have been my family for the last seven years and seen me at my lowest, my highest, my most angry, sad, happy, broken, fixed, grown up and immature. They have seen me fail, succeed, let myself and them down, learn the hard way, but they have also seen me grow. And they have always had my back, and I hope, I sincerely hope, I have done my best to have theirs.

There is not a terribly exciting reason for me leaving, (so please start some exciting rumours), I am just going to try something new. Fulfil my ambitions of becoming a failed writer and developing a opium habit. It’s all going to be very retro. I leave with the upmost love and support from the band, but I have requested my replacement not be too cool.

I would say I am sad to go, but that is too simple a word for the variety of emotions I have swimming around my head right now. I am sad, but mostly I am drowning in warm and happy flashbacks, vinaigrette images of us all laughing in the van on long drives across America. Joe Puleo, tour manager, at the front telling a story, Jason playing quizmaster and hosting a game of “Guess the Song,” from an app he has downloaded, and we all scream out responses. Rob taking photos of the scenery on his lomo, Neil watching gangster epics on his laptop, and maybe later on this long long drive Paul and Tom will play Tiger Woods Golf whilst I work out how long I can hold my bladder for before requesting we stop. I was the most frequenter pee needer on long drives. I am not ashamed of this. I owned it.

I felt warm and safe on those drives, listening to everyone tell stories, share experiences, make each other laugh. I am lucky to have shared a hotel room with so many exceptional ladies over the years, Aleks, Harriet and especially Kim, who shared my fear of the cold, love of porridge and put up with my ability to make a mess in any room in under 5 seconds. Starting and ending the day together, we did some good chatting.

I have seen a lot of this world, and I didn’t have to go on a gap year to do it. I have travelled across the breadth and depth of the US and the UK and I have seen a lot of different faces, and sampled a lot of backstage humus.I have seen a lot of graffitied backstage cocks.

I have met and worked with countless wonderful, interesting and horrifically talented people inside the industry, inside the venues, inside the recording studie and inside our practice space. (I won’t gush too much about how talented the people in the band are, you might get diabetes from my sincerity, but it has been a pleasure and a privilege to play the music that Tom writes.)

Also fans. Fans are awesome. You made it possible for us record an album in Seattle. To play a show outside of Wales. To play in a baseball stadium in Japan. A haunted restaurant in Santa Cruz. a handful of US universities and see Mexico! I saw Mexico! You girls and guys are truly humbling, and I hope I never took you for granted too much. I probably did. Thank you for knowing the words, for bringing cakes, and books, and t-shirts, and comics, and buying us drinks and for waiting and driving miles and cheering and clapping. For reading or watching or listening to anything we have ever done. Thanks. You kept us going and will continue to be the life blood of the Los Campesinos! family.

I was trawling through old photos trying to find the best one to represent a start and an ending, but I got lost in old memories and the process of ageing.

(God we looked young, look at our skin! Look at our clothes! Cardigans and ripped up Distillers t shirts, oh I still have that.)

I have eons of photos of the band at the start, at rehearsals, house parties, with experimental hair, (mine black, Gareth long and wispy, Neil’s fringe nearly covering his eyes and Tom always wearing his hat) and at our first shows. I remember when we first started, our summer of label romance where everyone wanted to take us out for a pub meal, and all we ever did was go out in Cardiff drinking and dancing. We said we would change our last names to Campesinos! if we ever played in the states, but we tempted fate, and we never changed out names but we did get to go to America a lot.

I sometimes wonder what alternative universe me would be doing if she didn’t go to that first rehearsal in Ollie’s bedroom. I think she is picking her nose right now in a bath of baked beans, bored and crazy because she spent all day in an office sitting next to a woman who told her about the time she slept with a navy seal. No one cares Brenda.

So 500 plus gigs, millions of air miles, gallons of backstage whisky and wine, a tonne of sweaty cheese and pita bread, a litre of tears shed on stage, hundreds of “don’t fuck up,” panics, hundreds of fuck ups, hundreds of “this is blowing my mind” moments whilst starring into a sea of unfamiliar and impassioned faces, break ups and ill advised hook ups later (don’t date musicians, like ever, we’re all mental,) I realise I have seen all the travel lodges, service stations, and states of America (apart from Alaska) and I have tasted more Marks and Spencer’s meals then I thought possible. I’ve been with some of the finest people I know doing a very unnatural thing, which is both the best and the worst experience and often at the same time, but never the same any given year. And we have done it fucking well. The best we can.

God I’m being dramatic, but I can’t help it, I was a middle child.

So some more self-indulgence.

I want to thank some people for being ace. John Goodmanson – a brilliant producer and a lesson in style and grace under pressure. Joe Puleo – the best tour manager, you never feel anything but safe in his company. Kelly Pickard – inspiration, mentor, wisest woman. Paul Rattcliff- The loyalist soundman whom gives so much. Kev and Alun and Mark Bowen, Wichita, Ben and Vicky, Gareth Dobson, anyone we have toured with or supported or who I have met along the way, everyone I forgot. I haven’t forgot, I am thinking about you.

My mum, because she told me I could be anything and do anything except get my tongue pierced. And I did that anyway, and she still wasn’t mad at me.

And the band.. Kim, Jason, Gareth, Tom, Neil and Rob who I will miss sharing experiences with that no one will understand, I love you guys. Like, loads. From our first Sweet Dreams, until our last, thanks.

Okay, too long, too emo. Bye bye.

Ellen x

[evolvecolving]

The Art of Slow Travel for Digital Nomads

There is a popular image of the digital nomad lifestyle that gives us ambitions to visit a vast number of countries every year, but sustaining that kind of pace can be tiring and take the fun out of it.

Many people prefer to visit fewer countries and stay for longer, which we refer to as “slow travel.”

Slow travel affords many more opportunities and is a much more relaxed approach to location-independent living.  There are definite benefits to doing it this way. To better understand these, I have listed some of the advantages below. 

Cost of Living

One of the most expensive parts of being a digital nomad is the accommodation; the second most expensive thing tends to be the flights.

Staying in one place for longer means that you don’t have to spend money as frequently on flights and you can also find better accommodation deals. 

The longer you stay somewhere, the better the accommodation deals become. A six-month lease is markedly cheaper per month than a one-month rental, a two-week stay or a three-day stay.

Being able to stay for an extended period of time can make a real difference to affordability and it is clear, it is definitely financially worth doing if you can.

In addition to the length of stay bringing the costs down, if you are going to stay somewhere for a longer time, it is very plausible to look at a less central and more “local” residential area.

Joining local Facebook groups and asking about accommodation for the time you are looking for or contacting local estate agents will help you determine nice but not tourist centre locations. 

Remaining in one place can also get you thinking more like a local. You will find that you cook more meals instead of eating out, which will also save money. 

Exploring more on foot rather than by taxi and bus because you are not so concerned about time can also help to reduce costs and increase your overall fitness.

Digital Nomad Visas

Increasing numbers of countries are offering special visas aimed at digital nomads.

These will often allow a route to stay for longer in a country to people who might not otherwise qualify to stay due to their country of origin. 

Countries with temperate all-year-round climates, such as Bali, Malta, Mexico, and Portugal, increasingly offer digital nomad visas.

These visas vary in length and allow people to stay in a country for a certain period of time. 

The Malta digital nomad visa can be extended from the default of one year to a maximum of four.

The Bali visa is for a maximum of five years and has strict requirements for the amount of savings an applicant must deposit in an Indonesian bank.

Of course, European Union citizens can already choose to live in Malta or Portugal without having to navigate additional obstacles.

The digital nomad visas for these locations are more suited to people from further afield, or the UK, which is no longer in the EU following Brexit.

Community Integration

When you visit somewhere fleetingly, it can be hard to make lasting friendships. People are unlikely to want to invest too much in a connection with you because you will be gone soon and they may never see you again.

This often gives the impression that lasting friendships can’t be made while travelling.

But anyone who has spent significant time around other members of the digital nomad community will begin to make friends fairly easily.

The more you travel, the more fascinating stories you accumulate, and the more interesting you become to people who spend their lives in one place.

This, however, still leaves the problem that your new friends will typically be moving on in a few days. And the solution is slow travel. Even the most introverted people can make friends when they are in one place for a long enough time, and the friends you do make you spend enough time with you building a lasting connection.

You also meet others who enjoy slow travel so you have the option to continue to the next place with your new friends.

If you are staying longer-term at a coliving like Evolve, it is even easier. The minimum stay of a month allows for deeper integration, and lifelong friendships are forged as a result. 

It is easy to find the activities you enjoy doing and if there is a social aspect to them, you will begin to make friends. 

Being able to spend quality time with people is what builds connection, and longer stays are ideal for this. 

Recharge and Reinvigorate

Having a “base” for a while can allow for some relaxation and some downtime. It is one of the reasons that so many nomads return to places like Malta for multiple months over the summer.

Knowing a place and catching up with people you have met before can be a great feeling.

Embracing slow travel can definitely banish that frenetic feeling of always being on the go.

Adapting to a little bit of routine for a few months can allow for personal growth and give you the chance to let your ideas percolate and come to fruition. Sometimes, slowing down is exactly what we need.

It helps when a location like Evolve Coliving has a pool, gym, jacuzzi, coworking, huge open plan double shared kitchen and lounge and more, as it created an on-site ecosystem where it is easy to relax, play, and have fun but also focus and get s**t done!

The world is fast-paced. Our own lives don’t need to be. Act with intention and choose the kind of lifestyle that is right for you.

If you left an office job to go remote because it wasn’t right for you, don’t keep doing things that aren’t right for you. 

Not everyone is suited to fast travel, and if you want to slow it down, you don’t need anyone’s permission to do so.

Nobody is going to take away your “digital nomad” card and force you back to the office because you didn’t visit “enough” places in a year. 

Interesting Tax Possibilities

Please note that nothing in this article constitutes financial advice. 

Being a digital nomad, you aren’t necessarily going to be taxed in your country of origin.

You can generally avoid having to pay tax in the UK on your remote earnings if you have no property there and have spent less than half the year there.

If you are spending a few months of the year in several different countries, you may not qualify to pay tax in any of them, leading to the possibility that you are not paying tax anywhere.

It is always important to do your research to avoid unpleasant surprises. 

Alternatively, you may move to a country that has a treaty with your home country and choose to pay tax there.

This would make sense if your home country has a higher rate of tax than your destination.

This is, of course, entirely at your own risk, as governments everywhere are always fond of collecting taxes and may feel that you owe them tax, even if you haven’t lived there for years.

Yes, USA, I am looking at you. The US is notorious for trying to get its citizens to pay taxes even when they don’t live there. 

Original Source: https://evolvecoliving.io/blog/slow-travel-digital-nomads/

[stonewallsposts]

Outta state

I've been thinking for a while that when the time comes, the 'time' being retirement AND our parents have passed, we will move out of CA. I was born and raised here in the LA area. Lived my whole life here and I'll be honest: I love LA. I love the beach, I love the weather, I love big city, I love the restaurants, I love the variety of things we can do, and I love living in a big enough place where there are always ministry opportunities with new people. I don't love the traffic. 

But I'm now 61 and I live in a two-story condo. At some point, it will be unrealistic to go up and down stairs. So we'll have to sell and move at some point, and we'll probably just move out of the state to someplace where it's much cheaper to live. I am a huge sissy in the cold so I don't want to go somewhere where I'm gonna freeze my fanny off in winter, but I don't want to go someplace where it's gonna be 120 in the summer either, meaning Vegas and Phoenix or Tuscon are out. Moving up the coast to the bay area would be ideal for the weather, but that would still be CA, and to be honest, the other thing I'm getting of tired of here in CA is the political climate. I think our beautiful state is being run by people who have utterly misunderstood some very basic things about humanity and the way life works, and are committed to governing the state in a way in which THEY feel is progressive, but I feel is a road to ruin.  

So where we move will be most likely out of CA. Nevada is not really under consideration and most of Arizona is not really under consideration either, though Flagstaff might be nice. Utah is not under consideration either. I looked into St. George, but the weather was said to be similar to Vegas, so... no. Going further east than Colorado and New Mexico gets into humid territory, so the places I've kind of identified as possible destinations are all along the Interstate 25 corridor: Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Pueblo and Colorado Springs. I've been to Albuquerque and Santa Fe, and they're nice. I'd like to check out Pueblo and Colorado Springs maybe next year.  

We'll be looking for a 3 bed (we want to have guest room as well as an office), 2 bath (we need a bathroom for each of us) place, likely a condo or townhome, because I think at the point we need to look out for going up and down stairs, it would probably be wise to have some neighbors close by in case of emergencies. But I could also consider a house too. The winters aren't too bad in those areas- there will be some snow, but nothing radical. The climate is still dry, which I like. I don't really want to deal with super humid.  

I don't want to live in a rural area. I don't need to live in a huge city like LA, but I do need to live in an area with 150k or so people. I want coffeeshops, restaurants and shopping. I'm hoping to work until I'm 70 or so. I'm still 9 years off of that goal. Things can change between now and then, but I feel like I could go until then, and at that point, we should be set enough to where we can live out comfortably and have enough to still travel and see things, not just stay home and clip coupons in order to live. Our current place will be paid off in another 2 years and after that we can start socking away what we currently are spending in paying down the remainder of the mortgage.  

But Pueblo has around 180k people in its metro area, several calvary chapels, and restaurants and shopping. Plus, Colorado Springs is only 45 minutes up the 25, so we can get to a larger metro area without too much problem. With the traffic here in LA, even the local malls still take 20-25 minutes to get to, and they're less than ten miles away.  

The Colorado Springs metro area has around 750k people, so definitely large enough to have everything we'd want in a city area. It's also only 70 miles south of downtown Denver, so we'd be close enough to a major city in case we need something there.  

Tax rates are a lot lower than here in LA. But that's probably going to be true in about 90% of the places I'd look at outside of CA. 

Still doing some research, but thinking about taking a scouting trip out there around June next year. If we like what we see, we'll take some subsequent trips during the winter too in order to gauge the place in all kinds of conditions.  

I will also note that there has been some consideration of moving, even in the area. It would be nice to reduce the drive times. Maybe after we get the current place paid off in a few years, I could think about moving somewhere between my mom's place and here at work. But that's still two years off.

[frontproofmedia]

LEIGH WOOD VS. JOSH WARRINGTON FACE-OFF QUOTES

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Published: October 06, 2023

Nottingham's Leigh Wood is just days away from defending his WBA Featherweight World Title against domestic rival Josh Warrington in a huge all-British clash on neutral ground at the Utilita Arena Sheffield, live worldwide on DAZN.  Ahead of this Saturday's highly anticipated showdown, both men sat down with Ade Oladipo to film a special feature-length face-off as the build-up to what promises to be one of the biggest fights of the year continues. Nottingham favorite Wood (27-3, 16 KOs) produced a 12-round masterclass against Mexico’s hard-hitting dangerman Mauricio Lara to reclaim his WBA 126lbs crown last time out in May at Manchester’s AO Arena to become Britain’s latest two-time World Champion.  Leeds hero Warrington (31-2-1, 8 KOs) is aiming to become a three-time Featherweight World Champion after surrendering his IBF belt to Mexico’s Luis Alberto Lopez following a close points loss at the First Direct Arena last December – his first defeat in his home city.  Leigh Wood:   Did you ever think you were going to get your opportunities for big fights?   “There were times when I thought I wasn’t going to get the opportunities. There were times when I thought it might pass me by. I always knew I was good enough to win these fights and be at this level. But I thought, ‘Am I going to get these opportunities?’ When I was sat there in the gym in Sheffield and things would come in and fall through all the time. I was going back to my flat and I was crying some days. All I wanted was a chance. I would have fought anyone. One time there was talks, Frampton’s opponent pulled out of a show. I think it was about three weeks’ notice. I told my management I’d take it. That’s how desperate I was getting at the time. There were times when I thought it may not ever happen.”   How did this one come about?   “I’d been on my own path. I got the opportunity for the World Title, I won the World Title, and then I had to defend against Conlan because they were sorting the belt situation out. That was out of my hands. Then I got a choice of who to fight, and Josh had a fight at the time for the World Title, so the next best person for me was the person that beat him. This fight for me made sense because I thought it was going to happen at the City Ground. The best person, probably one of the only opponents in that division to headline that fight at the City Ground, was Josh. It makes perfect sense. The rivalries, the cities, and the clubs. I was gunning for the fight. Once we’d sorted negotiating the fight, we found out we couldn’t have it at the City Ground, the fight was made, so it was like, ‘let’s just do it anyway’.   Do you think Josh is a dirty fighter?   “No I don’t. Without giving too much away I think Josh is good on the inside. He does the right things, head down, hips back. I think if you don’t know what you’re doing in those situations, and you stay where you are – you’re going to clash heads. I can see why people get cut. If you look at other fighters he’s boxed, it’s not been a problem. It depends what you’re doing as his opponent.”   What kind of atmosphere do you expect it to be?   “I think it’s going to be great. The Conlan fight – the atmosphere was unbelievable. The fans battle back and forth. When it’s your own arena and you fill it yourself, you get the entrance – sometimes it goes a little bit quiet. You need a reason to keep going. When my fans hear his fans, and his fans hear my fans – they’re going to keep going.”   Do you think you can knock Josh out?   “Yeah. I’ve been ringside for his last three fights, I’ve seen him get hurt. I know he’s tough. I don’t believe the people he’s been hurt by hit as hard as me and at the same time aren’t as calculated as me, so they might land a few good shots but are they good finishers? Have they got good set ups? I don’t think they have. I think Lara is a big puncher, not calculated, he doesn’t do what he needs to do. He’s not a great finisher in the sense like, gets someone hurt and knows what he’s got to do to set it up. He rushes sometimes, but I believe I’m one of the biggest punchers in the division. Not only that, I can set it up and I’m calculated.”   Leigh, how does it play out?   “I believe he’s going to make the same mistakes he makes and do the same things he always does. I know that I’m going to be dominant the majority of the fight. I’m going to beat him up at times as well. I’m here to win and he’s here to win as well. I know what I need to do to win and I’m confident of doing it.”   Do you remind each other of yourselves?   “He’s a family man. He’s like a Leeds version of me. I’ve said it before, a Leeds version of me who doesn’t box as well as me or punch as hard as me, or has a team that’s in the Premier League. Apart from that, we’re bang on the same. I look and him and familiarise myself with how he conducts himself. A lot of people that know him, mutual friends, say he’s a great guy. It’s irrelevant on fight night, I’m coming to win. After yeah, we’ll have a drink.”   Josh Warrington:   When did Leigh go onto your radar?   “When I first started coming through I think Leigh was probably around the same level that I was at the time. We were probably looking for British Title fights, domestic title fights. I think at the time he’d taken to Twitter, mentioned my name a few times. I thought our paths might have crossed earlier to be honest with you. Recent times – the last 12 to 18 months I’d say.”   Josh is this one that you wanted as well?   “Yeah, it’s natural. Boxing has been booming in this country, in the UK shows. Big fights have been made, no bigger than the domestic rivalry. I’ve had a fair few of them over recent years. Selby, Frampton, Kid Galahad – everyone loves a domestic rivalry. To be fair I’ve been part of Leigh’s success in some kind of way, because if I’d have got through Lara behind closed doors then Leigh would never have got that chance against Can Xu. I’d have boxed Can Xu, may have gone to America – I might be retired by now! Things happen, and he’s faced one of my former opponents who I didn’t manage to get a win over – he has. So I feel like I’ve been part of his journey.”   Do you question whether or not you’ve still got what it takes to compete at the very top level Josh? It is one win in your last four.   “If I listened to the critics I would never have got to the level that I’ve achieved now. I started off slow in my last one, and that’s it – I’ve seen better days. It were me who finished on top at the end. I still feel like I’m in my prime. I really do. I’m feeling top of my game right now.”   What kind of atmosphere do you expect it to be?   “It’s going to be a hell of an atmosphere in the city, never mind the arena. I think Sheffield are playing Huddersfield, so there’s another Yorkshire side in the city. It’s going to be a great night. These are the fights I fu***ng live for. These give me a semi on! It’s good to be part of. When you’re in there and you’re throwing the shots – you have to pause a minute and think, ‘this is living the dream’ – I can’t wait to be in there.”   Do you remind each other of yourselves?   “Leigh will go alongside people on my phonebook like Carl Frampton. I respected Carl before the fight. We had a fight of the year. People want to see us tearing each other out. But we’re old school fighters and real fans will know what we’re capable of bringing to the table. It’s not our style to go to press conference and start screaming and shouting and slagging each other off. It’s mutual respect. We go to the gym, we train hard and we go home to our families. When it’s time to turn it on it’s time to turn it on. Once the business is done, we shake hands.”

(Featured Photo: Ian Walton/Matchroom Boxing)