#Optimus just wants a waffle please

[birthdaycakeplate]

I watched Transformers One today, and am eternally mad at myself for never talking about an old headcanon I had for Sentinel having wings, because guess what Transformers One Sentinel had

[dameronology]

love in a time of p.t.a. meetings {marcus moreno} - 5/5

v summary: you hadn’t expected to find anything at a stupid p.t.a. meeting - but somehow, you found everything {series masterlist} 

warnings: swearing, one very mild innuendo 

there’s a long message at the end but...this is the last official part and i’m very sad about it. with that said, i hope you enjoy❤️

- j

Being a parent was tiring.

So much so that you hadn’t even made it to bed last night.

In fact, none of you had. The entire household was slumped together on the sofa; Marcus was in the middle, with one arm wrapped around Missy on his left side and the other stretched across you and Jack on his right. You’d completely flopped into his chest, with your kid passed out on you in a similar manner. The dogs (plural - but more on that later) were both stretched across the four of you on your laps, snoozing quietly. It had been a long week, clearly; between the school year coming to an end and the hot weather, you were all worn out. It had been a rush of finishing up projects at school, evenings in the pool and ordering take out. Marcus had been working late and your cooking skills were...well, calling them skills was an overstatement in itself. 

You grumbled slightly as you woke - why the fuck did your neck ache so bad? Right, because you’d fallen asleep tilted sideways. You probably would have stayed passed out for hours more if it hadn’t been for the sunlight streaming through the blinds. The TV ahead of you had stopped now, displaying an are you still watching Friends? message. You’d started watching it at what...six o clock the night before? 

Rubbing your bleary eyes, you sat up. Instead of waking up, Jack simply flopped into your lap, clearly not phased by the sudden movement other than letting out a tiny oof! as he fell. The kid had fallen asleep on the log flumes at Coney Island, so really, it wasn’t a surprise. Plus, him waking up would mean having to get up and make breakfast, which you really weren’t ready for just yet. 

‘D’you know what day it is today?’ Marcus quietly muttered. 

‘One year.’ You peered up at him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face.

‘So where the hell do you think you’re going?’ He pulled you back towards him, broad arm wrapping around your shoulders to trap you against his chest. ‘Happy one year, baby.’

‘Happy one year.’ You leant up to a soft kiss to his lips. 

You stayed like that for a minute, head resting against Marcus as you gently ran a hand through Jack’s hair. It was sort of a moment of...reflection. A lot had changed in the last year and yet somehow, it felt like your life had always been like this. The four of you have had gelled together into a slightly chaotic but ever-loving entity and you loved it. With the combined antics of your energetic children, everything was in disarray practically all the time but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. It had been the thing you’d had all along and the very thing that Marcus had been looking for; you had been the one to bring it into his life and he had been the one to teach you to appreciate it. 

The two dogs had brought a lot of chaos into your lives as well. After weeks of Missy and Jack insisting that the garden was too big for just Optimus Prime, you’d ended up traipsing to the dog shelter late on a Saturday afternoon. Bumblebee had become a valued member of the Moreno family within a matter of hours. 

‘I love you.’ You murmured. You could feel yourself getting sleepy again. 

‘I love you more.’

‘No, you don’t.’ You pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

‘At least that’s the only fight we’ve had over the last year.’ He reasoned. ‘What time d’we have to be at cook out?’

‘Twelve.’ You replied. Glancing at the screen of your dying Apple watch, you squinted at the screen. ‘It’s just gone eight.’

Every year, the PTA threw a cook out on the school field to celebrate the end of the semester. In previous years, you’d avoided it like the plague but this year you were actually excited. The last one had been in the very early stages of your relationship, and you and Marcus weren’t publicly showing affection when you’d been. There had been a lot of lingering glances across the field and knowing looks at one another but this time, you were solid. Everyone knew they were together and like hell where they gonna say things about you when you were with Marcus Moreno. Whether it’s because they’d suddenly got a newfound respect for you or because they were scared into silence by his reputation, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to complain.

‘Do you want breakfast, hermosa?’ He asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll help-’

Having heard the b-word, Jack suddenly shot up. He was six now (too old, in your book) and just as much of a tiny, evil genius as ever. He’d upgraded from a Chewbacca onesie to an Ewok onesie, so that was something too, and you were proud of him. 

‘- what’s for breakfast?!’ He demanded. ‘I want waffles.’

‘Then waffles we shall have.’ You stood up, sticking your hand out to him. ‘What about you two?’

‘I want waffles.’ Missy sleepily murmured.

Jack followed you through to the kitchen, swiping his iPad off the side as he did. Despite the fact you’d put it in a nuclear bomb proof case, he’d still managed to crack the screen. There had also been at least five occasions where he’d tried to take it in the pool. And this was the same kid who’d insisted he was responsible enough for his own hamster. 

Marcus breezed into the kitchen a few moments later, pressing a kiss to your cheek and ruffling Jack’s hair as he went by. You heard him rustling around behind you for a few minutes whilst you prepared the food; he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He placed a terribly wrapped gift on the counter in front of you, head coming to rest on your shoulder. 

‘Happy anniversary, baby.’ He murmured.

‘Hey.’ You dropped the knife you were holding, turning around to face him. ‘You didn’t have to get me anything.’

‘I know we said we wouldn’t do presents but since you got me a present last night and-’

‘- Marcus!’ You clamped a hand over his mouth. ‘There is a child in the room.’

‘He has his headphones in!’ He protested. ‘Just open it, please?’

‘Of course.’ You smiled. 

‘Jack even helped me wrap it.’ He said. ‘And decorate it.’ 

‘That would explain a lot.’ You replied.

Pulling the paper off it, you felt your heart drop in your chest when you saw what it was. 

It was a bright red photo with random doodles in puffy paint; the photo itself was one of you and Jack from when you’d all gone to New York for the weekend a few months previous. You were stood on top of the Rockerfeller Centre, the Empire State in the distance behind you and Jack on your shoulders. You were both grinning despite how windy it was, and his hat had blown off seconds after the photo was taken.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t - ah, dammit.

‘I love it.’ You tried to keep your voice steady, but it wobbled despite your efforts. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’ He flashed you a lopsided grin, pressing another kiss to your forehead. ‘I figured we could hang it up in place of the one he managed to smash last week with the broom stick.’

(He’d recently watched Harry Potter. Don’t ask.) 

‘Of course.’ You gave him one last kiss, before heading over to the empty space on the wall. It fit perfectly in the space, right between the photo of Marcus and Missy, and the sign that said 0 days since Jack’s last incident.

---

Four hours later, and after consuming enough waffles to feed a small army, the four of you finally reached the school. Both of the kids seemed excited to see their friends, but you were a little nervous.  What if people asked questions about you and Marcus? About your divorce? Or Jack’s behaviour, or whether or not-

‘You okay, baby?’ Marcus had suddenly appeared beside you, an arm coming around your waist. You’d been stood on the sidelines of the football field for way longer than you realised. ‘You’ve got eyes like dinner plates.’

‘I don’t know how to interact with these people.’ You murmured back. ‘They’re all...you know.’

‘They’re all what?’

‘Perfect. And shiny.’ You huffed. ‘Look at their cars! There’s not a dent in sight. And their kids aren’t wearing an Ewok onesie to a cook-out in July.’

‘I think Jack is admirable for embracing his unique sense of fashion.’ You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. ‘C’mon! They’re gonna run out of food if you keep longingly staring at their minivans.’

‘You’re right.’ You stumbled slightly as he dragged your hand, pulling you towards the crowd in the middle of the field.

‘I mean if you want a minivan, we can get one.’

‘Moving to the suburbs was already a big deal for me.’ You grumbled. 

Marcus continued to laugh, pulling you closer into his side as you reached the other parents. 

Naturally, he immediately jumped into conversation about one of the other dads with...actually, you weren’t really paying attention. You switched off as soon as you heard the word football. One thing you did notice, however, was his ability to be completely and entirely charming with anyone. You lacked that, normally shying away from talking to strangers. Especially strangers who had previously cast you out for being a single parent and constantly given you the side-eye. The only reason they’d stopped was because you and Marcus were together now.

You tried to remind yourself that it didn’t matter, that their thoughts and feelings weren’t relevant. They shouldn’t have been. You had the best guy in the world by your side and two amazing kids. The people most important to you were the ones whose opinions mattered - and they all thought the world of you. Marcus loved and supported you unconditionally, and Missy thought you were a bad-ass. Jack, though probably a little bias, thought you were the best parent in the world. That was what counted. 

But still, you couldn’t help but feel a little angry. You’d worked your ass off to get where you were, to raise your kid and make him a semi functional human being. You’d single-handedly kept a roof over both of your heads and provided for your family, even when you’d been married to a dead beat husband. 

Things were different now; brighter, happier, filled with more dogs and more love than you could ever have imagined. You didn’t want to linger in the past, not when everything else was moving forward. If anything, being here had just solidified your faith in your relationship. If all you wanted to do was go home and be alone with your partner, then that was a sure sign. 

‘Mum!’ You heard Jack from across the field. ‘Can you get my football out the car?’

‘Duty calls.’ You finally spoke. Marcus had noted how quiet you were, having made a mental note to bring it up later. ‘I’ll be back in a second.’

‘Okay, baby.’ He pressed a kiss to your check. 

The sun beat down on your back as you trudged across the field, Doc Martens kicking up grass around you. Your outfit was cute at least; a pair of denim shorts and an old tank top with one of your boyfriend’s plaid shirts thrown over the top. You hadn’t even realised it was his until the lingering smell of aftershave hit your nostrils when you got in the car. After that, there was no way in hell you were taking it off.

The car park was around the corner from the field -- it was nice to get away for a minute. Even though you’d simply stood beside Marcus like an older man’s sidepiece at a business meeting, just being in the presence of the people and listening to them talk about their kids was exhausting. At least he had been good at pretending to be interested in their sugar free diets and screen time limitations and how their French lessons were going. You, meanwhile, hadn’t even tried to look like it piqued your fancy. You’d been half-tempted to put your sunglasses on so they couldn’t see you roll your eyes. 

Pulling Marcus’ car-keys out your pocket, you opened the boot and began to rifle around. His car was a thousand times more put together than yours, but it still accumulated a bunch of crap. 

You jumped backwards when you heard the gravel crunch behind you. 

Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes fell on Carol. It had been a while since you’d last seen her, but she looked a little worst for wear. What’s more was that she had a cigarette between her lips, despite being the one to run the entire school’s anti-smoking campaign.

‘I didn’t know you smoked.’ You commented, catching her attention as you slammed the boot shut. 

‘Oh!’ She jumped, quickly throwing it onto the floor.

‘Hey, I’m not bothered.’ You leant against the back of the car. ‘A lot of people do it.’

‘I don’t normally.’ She stamped on the remains to put it out, dusting off her bright pink work-out jacket. ‘I’ve just been stressed lately.’

‘Are you okay?’ You raised an eyebrow at her.

‘I’m fine.’ 

You tossed the football between your hands, giving her a nod. ‘If you’re sure.’

With that, you locked the car and began to make your way back towards the cook-out. If you could wear Jack out by playing with him all afternoon, then you might be able to catch some peace and quiet that evening. Then, you and Marcus could celebrate your first anniversary by ordering take out and watching Friends.

(Which is ironically, what you’d done for the last four nights).

‘Y’know, I’ve always been jealous of you.’ You froze when Carol called after you.

‘What?!’ You turned around to face her, confusion etched on your features. ‘Are you talking to someone else, or?..’

‘No, I’m talking to you.’ She muttered. 

‘Why me? I thought you hated me?’

‘Because I was jealous of you.’ She said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

‘Carol, you’re the perfect one here. You’re married to your high school sweetheart, you’ve got a big-ass house - with a gate! - and your kids are perfectly well behaved. And you drive a fucking minivan!’

‘Oh, please.’ She groaned, falling back against the nearest car. ‘My husband is married to his job and my kids are more interested in their iPads than me!’ 

‘So’s mine-’

‘- you’ve always provided for yourself.’ She continued, cutting you off. ‘Always put your kid first and just did what was best for you without worrying what anyone else thought. That’s..admirable.’

‘Thanks?’ You furrowed your brow. ‘I never really gave it that much thought.’

‘I never thought I’d wish for your life.’ She muttered. 

You gently approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. With caution, obviously. You know that she had a tendency to be vicious and bite. Like a chihuahua. 

‘My life isn’t perfect.’ You said softly. ‘There’s a difference between happiness and perfect. And if you keep trying for perfect, you’ll never be happy.’

‘That’s deep.’

‘Actually, it’s a quote that you shared on Facebook.’ You snorted. ‘You just gotta appreciate what’s around you. Your house, your kids, your husband.’

‘Maybe you’re right.’ Carol nodded. ‘You’re a good parent. A good person. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel less than that.’

‘I mean...you were an asshole, I won’t lie. You’re nosey as fuck and you got involved with my kid, but I’d probably be doing the same if I wasn’t satisfied with my life.’ 

Okay, so you didn’t mean for that to sound so rude, but who could blame you? The woman had given you nothing but crap. You’d already felt bad for her, but now you felt worst.

‘C’mon.’ You stuck your hand out to her. ‘You have two lovely daughters and a husband waiting for you back on the field....you family waiting for you back on the field.’

Dragging Carol off of the car, you dusted off her arms and forced a smile. It didn’t make you happy that she was miserable, but at least offered an explanation for her behaviour. The fact she’d envied you this entire time didn’t make up for what she’d done - the rumours the spread, the things she said - but it at least helped soothe you a little bit. 

‘Can we be friends?’ She asked quietly, traipsing beside you. 

‘...maybe in a few years.’ 

---

As it turned out, Jack did not pass out early. Instead, the four of you ended up having another night on the sofa -- this time with an extra large pizza, just to celebrate the special night. 

Your head had been spinning since your conversation with Carol. You were glad you finally had closure on the whole thing, but it had completely fried your circuits. She was the queen of the hive, the perfect mum, the perfect wife. Her kids wore matching outfits to school and they never had a hair out of place. Her Facebook was filled with family photos of their international vacations and outings to all their activities. Was she not the blue print?

It made you take a step back and look at your own life, which was something you hadn’t done in a while. In fact, last time you’d done it, you realised you’d weren’t happy with your ex-husband. 

Now, it was the opposite. You were in love with somebody who was better than you could have ever imagined; he wasn’t perfect - he snored and he never did the dishes and he always forgot to put the bins out - but he was everything to you. You had a kid who, although was undeniably a tiny meddler, you loved with your whole heart. You had Missy, who had welcomed you into her life with open arms and embraced the chaos you brought. You had dogs, and a house with a fucking garden. 

You didn’t blame Carol for being jealous because, even though it was from perfect, you didn’t need it to be. You had everything you ever wanted and heck, you would have been jealous of it too if it wasn’t completely and entirely yours. 

For the first time all day, you finally had a moment to yourself. You were stretched out across the couch, feet propped up on a pile of cushions; Marcus’ shirt was still on, only now you had changed out your shorts for leggings and your boots for socks fluffy enough to be dangerous on the wooden floors. 

‘Hey, baby.’ Marcus quietly greeted you, shutting the living room door behind him. ‘Kids are asleep.’

You gave him a doubtful look. ‘Even Jack?’

‘Okay - Missy is asleep and Jack is on his iPad.’

You opened your arms to him, grinning. ‘I’ll take it.’

Marcus dropped onto the sofa, an equally big smile falling onto his face as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. He wound both of his around your waist, lifting you off of the couch and into his lap. It always reminded you of when you’d kissed on your first date -- it seemed like worlds away now. 

‘Has it really been a year?’ You murmured softly, resting your forehead against his.

‘Yeah.’ He shyly smiled at you. ‘I don’t know how I got so lucky.’

‘We both got lucky.’ You reminded him. ‘I got lucky that Carol guilt-tripped me into that fucking meeting.’

‘And I got lucky that you were the person I chose to victimise with my small talk.’ He chuckled. ‘You know you’re my whole fucking heart, right?’

‘Yeah.’ You slowly nodded. ‘And you’re mine.’

You’d completely changed each other’s lives - blown them apart, and used the tiny pieces to rebuild everything back into one. Neither of you had even been looking and you’d still managed to find one another. You’d been hurt before and he’d been patient. He’d lost a lot before and you helped him find it again. What he lacked, you had. What you lacked, he had. 

Above all, Marcus had embraced what everybody seemed to encourage; he saw value in the things you’d been insecure about and when he fell in love with him, so did you. In return, you brought an energy and light to his life that he didn’t even know he needed.  In one another, you found unconditional love and support, and a feeling of security that you’d both lacked for so long.

This was it. And it was everything . 

--

OKAY i’m actually so sad this story is over -- i’ve written over the course of maybe 2 weeks but when i TELL YOU i have become so attached? u better believe it. if you check out the series masterlist, you’ll see that there’s a few little fics i’m gonna write to fill in the gaps that were in the time skips between chapters, so that’s still something to look forward to!

thank so so so much for all your support on this series; it’s been so much fun to write & your comments are what encouraged me to finish it so quickly. 

- jamie xx 

taglist: taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles @bitchin-beskar @comphersjost @absurdthirst @mjby @parkjammys @kteague @katdante @vonschweetz @cyarikashakira​ @mrsparknuts​ @starryeyedstories​ 

[mincedpeaches]

*whispers* headcanons for heatwave/kade?

Who are you, you blessed anon, the first anon I’ve gotten inages, to be so good?

Here’s some:

(read more’d cuz it got long lmao)

Hayley is definitely the one who helps them get“together”.  Pre-season 4 I’d alwaysthought it’d be indirectly because Kade wouldn’t want to leave Griffon Rock withher and it made him realize ~why~, but now post-season 4 its much nicer whereonce the town found out the bots secret at some point Hayley HAD TO be like “wtfkade, we made out in there and it’s a living thing???” and Kade is just like“uhhhh” and she squints her eyes suspiciously and after that she is on Watchand Alert, she is observing them and hanging with them and squinting her eyesall “I see what’s happening here” and then finally after a while she’s like“fyi, no big deal, but I’m dtf a robot, just fyi” and long story short they allcuddle and kiss

Cody it the first one to figure it all out,because he is a smart young whippersnapper, but he keeps it to himself a while.At one point much later him and Frankie go to Heatwave asking “so, how boutthose Cybertronian relationship customs ey” not even to tease about it butbecause they’ve become genuinely curious, bless their well-meaning souls (theteasing is saved for Kade exclusively)

AT SOME POINT THEY GO ON A ROAD TRIP this is gayheadcanons formulated entirely with @verit and long story short they end up atthe grand canyon and Kade looks at Heatwave with softness and wonder, basicallyfeeling the meme “the stars grand canyon is beautiful you know what elseis beautiful” unironically in his soul. P.S. Please imagine Kade being gross whileeating at a Midwestern waffle house please and thank you.

Most of the time Kade makes Heatwave’s cabingross because he is genuinely disgusting but every once in a while its so hecan make cleaning it a ~sensual activity~ (Hayley helps)

Kade is punching in the What’s New Pussycats andHeatwave suggests the one It’s Not Unusual

VOICE KINK. IS. A THING. *drops mic*

*after the season four premiere* “Hey Heatwave,could you tell us about any other ugly little alien gremlins that could possiblyshow up to fight you?” “Sure. None of them are as ugly as you.” “Hey!”

I have headcanons for how each of the bots andtheir partners visit the Burns Mom grave at some point. For Kade he takes Heatwavepost-season 3 finale, not long after the bots recovered from their stunt ofpowering the island with their energon. Kade parks him there and grips thesteering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white, explaining how hard it was losingher, how he dealt with it as the oldest child, and how he never ever wants togo through losing family like that ever again, do you understand you idiot??? Alsoa perfect moment to drop the incredibly rare L-bomb.

Seriously it takes them FOREVER to use theL-word. Hayley has to help with this too. Half the time they do manage to say itis only when it is punctuated by an insult. (“I love you, you absolute idiot”)

Also I gotta say its amazing reflecting on my headcanons nowpost-season 4, because post-season 3 it was all like that gravestone bit. Wherethe bots find out Optimus DIES and are all very upset and they have to leaveand Heatwave and Kade miss each desperately for YEARS but can’t say so etc etcsad pining etc etc but now it’s all “Heatwave and Kade and Hayley cuddle” likegod bless rescue bots is so good and pure it killed all my lowkey angst.

Also season 4 ended with them on assignment to TRAIN OTHERRECRUITS. Headcanons:

They’re kind of not great at it at first butthey VERY quickly get on the same wavelength

Some human not getting along with their botcomes to Kade asking what to about it, Kade says “Patience. Remember yourpartner isn’t just a machine, they’re a living being” (in direct contrast tohow Kade was originally like “its just a firetruck cody god he’s not my friend”)and then Kade smiles and looks out into the middle distance thoughtfully.

Some bot not getting along with their human comesto Heatwave asking what to do about it, Heatwave says “Respect. Remember, thisis our home now, but it was theirsfirst. It has to be all of ours now.’ (in direct contract how Heatwave wasoriginally like “man forget these humans theyre so ungrateful I wanna peaceoutta here”) and then Heatwave smiles and looks out into the middle distancethoughtfully.

Just!!!! Them genuinely seeing themselves inthese fresh recruits and silently reflecting on how far they’ve come!!! And beinghappy and grateful for it!!!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh I die

Blurr constantly pops into the base for a visit (eitherthat or he’s there because he is stationed there at the end of the season?) andgives Kade and Heatwave shit, only Kade and Heatwave have taken their trainingroles to heart and are now Blurr’s New Dads. Blurr rebels against this at firstbut eventually rolls with it, in part because he is The Original KadewaveShipper.

At one point they need more furniture for thebase and so Kades go to Ikea and the two of them building the furniture is. A disaster.

Being on base is really the first time just thetwo of them are making the TV choices as opposed to at home when it’s a familyfree for all  (Kade to the recruits: “Weget seniority because we’re the teachers and in charge, duh.”). So they alone argueabout what to watch on TV, and then everyone else complains about what they’rewatching. (Passionate battles about Ross and Rachel on Friends. The dark timewhen they all watched Glee. Refusing to admit they cried during Titanic. Etcetc ) Its cute bonding where Kade and Heatwave get a chance to be the Team Dads

In fact though, being the two of them on baseand them being away from their family gets them a lot of kinda-sorta-alone timetogether they’ve never had, especially early on when they’re not yet close tothe recruits. Even though the family visits often its… different. (i.e. mmm myslow burn)

In summary I love trash and if you read all this you’re a trooper.

[3one3]

The Sequel - 903

Old Ways

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Hey man, do you know where Chris is? She’s not answering her phone.”

“Try Dirk’s paddock. Last I saw her was out there playing games with him. Tell her this one is ready in 10 minutes.”

“How many are left?”

“Him and two more.”

“Ugh. All right.”

Cartagena, petit in stature on the crossties in the very open, high-ceiling grooming area but far from slight or small in his impression, even with an oversized wool cooler covering much of his body, eyed André with a plain mix of suspicion and disdain. The player interrupted the curry job happening on his chest, and that was wholly unacceptable. Chest scratching via currycomb was the gray stallion’s favorite thing in the whole world. He stretched his neck out to its maximum and tilted his head and wiggled his lips and made savoring sounds. All he ever wanted from humans, besides hay and grain and water, was chest currying. André noticed the horse’s displeasure. He reached out to pat his nose just before Tom resumed making circles on his chest with the ovular grooming tool.  Cartagena had been around for a long time already, but he didn’t really know him the way he knew his wife’s other horses. The horse in the next grooming stall, with Isandro, was even more foreign to the player.

Christina, Heiner, and Holger teamed up to persuade the syndicate that owned the lion’s share of Rio to invest in a mount for Stefanie. They’d been passively scouting potential horses for her for months and she had a chance to try one of them at Madrid Horse Week. Christina wished she could watch the pair in person before a decision was made, but Heiner and Holger said it was a good match, and Stefanie was already in love with Color Up, or Pacha, as he was called around the barn. A Chacco Blue son out of a Contender mare, the young bay stallion had buckets of talent and a curious, disbelieving personality. The girls all thought he was a cuddle bug in hiding, and the guys thought he was cautious and untrusting. He was just 6 years old and had a lot to learn about himself, not just show jumping. A half sibling of his with the same dam-sire was already competing at the top level and doing well, and tons of other Chacco Blue progeny dotted the orders of go at big shows, though his daughters were thus far more successful on balance than the sons.

Pasha’s greatest asset was a direct inheritance from him. He had a beautifully tight front end. He jumped everything square and tidy, clean as could be. The Oldenburg first got on the radar of the trio of trainers at the Young Horse Championships earlier in the year. Christina only saw him on video, while the other two watched him in person. He competed under one of Christian’s associates. Pasha was “one for the future”, and the trio of trainers would have to help Stefanie bring him along the right way. He needed someone to trust, and he needed patience. What he had to offer was, on all visual evidence, a great willingness to learn.

The first two things he learned at Stall Schürrle was that Goose wasn’t very welcoming and the girls always have treats. Tom moved Kyle’s retired old schoolmaster across the aisle next to Pasha so that he wasn’t alone in the otherwise unoccupied block of stalls. Goose hated everyone though, and bared his teeth and pinned his ears when the new youngster tried to visit through the bars between them. Kimi and Optimus were nicer to him outside when he was introduced to their paddock. Dirk did try to kick him in the face from the other side of the fence though. That’s why Christina was still outside when André was looking for her. She walked down with Isandro when he was going out to bring him in for Stefanie, just to see how he was getting along with her apathetic “baby” and his adorable sidekick. The newest of the gold medal winners in the barn was trying to fight him from next door. She climbed into his paddock to “scold” him but ended up just playing with him instead, “to distract him”. There was some kind of bullfighting scenario going on out there when André arrived, in the snow.

“Is this what “training like a multiple times Olympic champion” looks like?” he questioned with facetious skepticism from the fence line. His wife had told him a few days earlier, on her recommitment to her old work ethic, that she ought to train like a multiple times Olympic champion if she wanted to be one. The rider was running back and forth with her arms out beckoning her best equine friend and then bolting in the other direction when he got close. Dirk was like a really, really big dog. The actual dogs were on their way, at maximum speed, down the lane to greet André. They had their Barbour blankets on and kicked up snow such that they, combined, looked like a very small snow blower.

“Yes,” Christina verified. “We’re training for the winter Olympics.” There was a big smile visible between her fur pouf-festooned beanie and the scarf wrapped many times around her neck. She nearly slipped and fell every time she stopped or started her short little sideways run, despite wearing rubber galoshes over the foot part of her paddock boots. Her Holsteiner was mostly just moving his front feet, and had no traction trouble.

“What sport?”

“Bobsled? I dunno.” The rider was laughing and out of breath. Dirk’s ears were tall and forward, and his eyes bright. He could play her game all day, whatever it was. Calvin was standing behind him, just watching, and probably worrying that something terrible was about to happen to him. André could tell he wanted to come over and visit with him but was afraid of the commotion going on in between.

“Tom says Cartagena is ready in a few minutes.”

“Mkay.” Christina took a deep breath and stood up straight, abandoning her game posture. Dirk stretched to literally sniff out the situation. He clearly didn’t trust that the game was really over. He thought she was luring him in and would then dart away, out from under his nose. “Relax, you idiot. I’m trying to pet you.” She held her gloved hand out, and he snorted, on alert, wide stance. The hot air from his flaring nostrils made a little cloud around her hand. It took a couple of seconds for him to decide that he wasn’t getting played. His human let him sniff her open palm, and then rubbed his nose, and eventually up under his forelock. The snow was still coming down in a picturesque kind of sprinkling, so he had little flakes in his mane. Some of the other horses had hood attachments for their heavy-duty turnout blankets. Dirk didn’t like them, and he didn’t seem to get uncomfortably cold. He’s so handsome with a snowy backdrop, Christina thought wistfully. I wish I could leave him out here to play. “Time to go in, dude. We have to work still. You’re next after Cartagena. Also I’m sweating.” She tugged her waffle knit scarf down a little for ventilation. She didn’t know she’d be running around getting warm when she put her down jacket on to go outside.

“Training is over?”

“This part is. How did round-two crisis talks go?” Please say well, she willed, turning around to head for the gate. Dirk’s halter and lead were on a hook next to it. He followed her, and so did Calvin. Luckily they weren’t the kind of pasture buddies who get so attached that they can’t be left alone. The Hannoverian would definitely try to follow his friend out, but wouldn’t have a breakdown when he was pushed back and left behind.

“It wasn’t a crisis talk. It’s not a crisis until Watzke and Zorc call Marco and Nuri to the offices to talk about what the players want. It was just the regular team meeting. It was...not pleasant. We’ll see what happens at the weekend. Are you coming in now?” André stopped petting Spencer and Lucky to unsnap the chain for the gate as the Pied Piper approached with her followers. He wasn’t in any mood to talk about the team talk. Real Madrid beat his club 3-2 and it should have been a hiding. No one took anything positive from the minor rally. He didn’t play a single minute. He felt extra bad about it after watching Christina retweet a video of Juan absolutely destroying defenders on a crazy, dancing run the night before, all day long. It was as if she was sitting around looking for every person who posted it just so she could retweet it again. She even posted it on her Instagram. Bosz still wasn’t fired.

“Yeah, Dirk too. Watch out, puppies. G’d up idiot stallion coming out.” Christina reached around the post for the halter and knowingly took the second one, not the one on top, without having to look. Calvin had already come in, worked, and been put back out, so his was logically on top. The silver plates on both of them just said Schürrle on them, not their own names, but Calvin’s was much too big for Dirk’s finer head. Christina paused after fitting his over his ears and snapping the throatlatch to get a hello kiss from her visitor, whom she did not expect to see at the barn, much less out in the cold. “How come you’re braving the elements?”

“I was hoping you were almost done and interested in sneaking into the house for a nap.”

“Sneaking into the house?”

“Well if you just walk in normally then Mausi wants to show you whatever he made today, and play some game, or eat snacks with him or whatever. If we sneak in then we can go straight upstairs and have a nap,” the footballer explained. He waved Calvin back so that he could close the gate right behind Dirk, even though his wife had the situation under control. She could lead one horse out and turn him around while keeping a hand on the gate and closing it before the other one could escape. She did it without thinking.

“By “take a nap” do you mean do things in bed other than nap?” A sideways glance conveyed her meaning about his potential hidden meaning.

“No. I’m tired, Prinzessin.” André patted Dirk’s blanketed flank on his way to falling into step beside her and playing with the faux fox fur ball bobbing atop her head.

“Oh. Well I would love to nap with you if I could. I have him and Cartagena and Rio left to do.”

“Are those the fleece-lined pants Rafa gave you last year?”

“No. It’s not cold enough for those. I went with the half chaps today though, obviously.” Christina gestured down at the brown suede chaps on her lower legs. They were a lot warmer than her field boots, and riding in her winter paddock boots meant there was room for thick socks inside that would never fit in the field boots.

“I’m freezing.” Her human partner had a longish parka on with a cashmere hat, and tennis shoes that didn’t really keep the wet out. Horse and rider walked in the middle of the path, which had been mostly cleared through a combination of salt and traffic, and he was forced to walk on the side, where there were a few inches of snow. I want to go get under the covers with her and be warm and relax for a while, he lamented. I know I could talk her into it but I also know I shouldn’t. She wants to train, and it’s making her happy to do it on a real schedule again.

“There’s hot cocoa mix in the lounge. Or are you gonna go nap solo?”

“I don’t know. What are we doing later? Are we eating home?”

“We’re having super herby skillet roasted chicken with toasted wild rice and mushrooms, onions, and carrots.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was, yesterday, when I made it. Hopefully it still is,” Christina laughed. “I’m willing to forego leftovers if you want to go out though.”

“I want whichever dinner gets you on the couch with me sooner.”

“It’s only three. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. There’s plenty of time for the couch before dinner.” She let her left hand swing around a little to feel for André’s right one, but it was in his coat pocket. They texted about the match earlier in the day while he was on the plane back from Madrid. She didn’t think he’d want to get into it again. It just worried her some that he was so desperate for a nap. It wasn’t like they had to wake up early for the flight, and they didn’t train when they got back to Brackel. It was a meetings-only kind of day for them.

“Yeah. I’m going to get a head start, I think. Mausi was mad that I only stopped at the house to change before coming out here. I should go see him. Tim called me about the London property. I should call him back.”

“What about it?”

“I think he has someone who wants to lease it.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll find out and then we can talk about it,” the footballer assured. “I’m gonna go. Have good rides, Prinzessin.” He stopped at the double doors at the back of the barn to give her a kiss and pat Dirk’s neck once more. Walking down the shed-row and through the narrow gate in the hedge was a much faster and more direct route back to the house than going inside with them and going out the courtyard doors and around the hedge, though the second one was completely clear of snow and the other was not.

“I’m gonna have to put him on antidepressants if that team doesn’t get its head out of its own ass soon,” his wife told her Holsteiner. “I can’t even try to temper my frustration by apportioning some blame to him, because it’s not like he ever gets a chance to play. You and me will need to win some stuff next week to make him feel at least a little better. You ready to get back in the game? Ready for minutes?”

“Did Schü find you?” Tom asked as they arrived in the grooming stall next to Cartagena. Pasha was already in the ring with Stefanie.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t clip him in. He’s coming over here.”

“You can’t tack up a horse in Isa’s crossties?”

“No. My stuff is here.”

“Men.” Christina shook her head disapprovingly at Dirk and handed his lead to the groom. The Dutch stallion got a quick smooch and scratch on his muzzle before she grabbed her helmet off the hanging bridle hook and put it on in place of her hat, which she tossed onto the bench across the aisle. “I’ll be like 20 minutes. Can you make sure Socks gets wrapped when he comes in? I don’t know that he really needs it, but just in case...”

“Kyle is in there putting out quilts and bandages for 5, fresh from the dyer.”

“Make sure Dirk gets the black ones. No poultice.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Black on black Back On Track. Say that 10 times fast.”

“Rather not.”

“K. Let’s go, Mr. Kingpin.”

Cartagena did not acknowledge his brand new, random nickname she pulled from her general association of the city of Cartagena with drug trafficking. Nor did he bristle at the fact that she told Tom she wanted the Back On Track pillow wraps for Dirk and not for him. They came with special fibers in them that promote blood flow, which reduces or prevents inflammation. All of the horses were treated in some way after jumping, as nearly all of them did that day. Some had to have their ice boots, some just got cold hosing, and some were rubbed down with liniment. If it were a big jumping day or one with a hard gallop in the field, Dirk, Nick, Rio, Calvin, and Dezy all spent some time with the Game Ready wraps, plugged into the magical machine. After whichever appropriate treatment, there was wrapping. Some were wrapped completely dry with traditional white “shipping” quilts, or pillow wraps as they’re also called, and burgundy or black stable bandages- like polo wraps, but longer, thinner, and stretchier, to provide more consistent tightness up and down the leg over the bulky quilt. Some were poulticed first, with wet brown paper bag wrapped loosely around the clay-like stuff to protect the quilt. There were other gels and products that could go on before the wrapping too. Dirk and Nick were always wrapped with the Back On Track-brand black quilts and matching black standing bandages.

Christina’s collection of quilts included multiple brands and sizes, as front and hind legs require different widths, and because she’d accumulated them over decades. Her grooms needed a ton of them. They can’t be re-used without washing, and they were used constantly. The regular ones were used for shipping too. So putting out the wraps for later was no insignificant task for Kyle. It required a lot of hunting and matching. Christina, Tom, and Isandro all abided by the same rule- no mismatched wraps of any kind, because it can result in uneven wrapping, which is bad for the legs. Helpfully, most of the quilts and bandages were marked in some way. Some were embroidered with “MARTIN” or “SCHÜRRLE”, or the name and a number corresponding to the other one in the pair. Some had names and/or numbers added in permanent marker. There were a couple of sets of standing bandages made by adidas, with the three white stripes just on the last 12” or so of the wrap by the Velcro. Those were easy to pair.

That she had specific wraps on her mind as she pulled Cartagena’s halter off and got ready to head into the indoor was a further sign that she was back to working the way she used to, before her out of the saddle life got in the way and made her crazy. It wasn’t something she really needed to be thinking about. Her grooms knew what to do and what she wanted. But she liked to feel as if she was on top of everything, not leaving anything up to others. It wouldn’t be Tom’s mistake if Dirk didn’t get the treatment she thought was best for him. It would be hers, for assuming Tom anticipated her thinking. The rider almost forgot she once ascribed herself that level of responsibility, until Juan talked to Sid Lowe about it and inadvertently reminded her. That wrapping was on her mind in that moment instead of her husband’s football depression was a big change too. While she felt absolutely gutted for him and wanted to do whatever she could to improve his mood and empower him to perform well, she was able to drop that subject entirely the second she set eyes on her next mount- the next horse she needed to work with and train, not just exercise. For a long time, she would have been able to think of nothing outside the typical spiral of “ugh” that began with a Borussia Dortmund foul-up and ended in “and he uprooted our entire life to bring us here for this garbage”. It was a lot easier to work and train while thinking about how on top of things her guys were in terms of caring for the horses than it was to do anything while she dwelled on all the wrong turns taken by her co-pilot.