#Retirement from international career

[afterglowkatie]

so many suggested it was gonna be a lyds retirement announcement but i wanted to stay delusional a bit longer 🥲🤍

[aflawedfashion]

With the way Russian women's figure skating is looking right now, if Russia is allowed back in international competition, I hope Liza decides to go for one more try at the Olympics. It's not a guarantee, but I genuinely feel like she has a shot at qualifying for the first time at the age of 29

[no-144444]

red flag- o.piastri

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summary: you get in an accident on track.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader

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“Red flag, red flag, safety car coming on track to retire all cars, too dangerous out in sector 3, drive with extreme caution,” his race engineer called over the radio.

“Is everyone alright?” Oscar questioned, slowing the car, the other drivers behind him doing the same. 

“We’re not sure, Y/l/n crashed in sector 3 and hasn’t gotten out of the car just yet. We’ll keep you posted.”

What? You’d crashed and you weren’t out of the car yet? What the fuck? He knew you, he remembered what happened back in f2, back when you’d had the worst crash of your career and you jumped out of the car with a broken leg. Then, you’d at least gotten out of the car. Now? You were in the fucking car. Still. Minutes after your crash. 

“Race is off, conditions are too dangerous.”

Fuck. 

As he pulled into the pitlane, he jumped out of his car, following the other drivers to the briefing room as they all pulled off their soaking suits and damp helmets. 

They sat, waiting for news as none came through. All they knew was that you had to be pulled out of your burning car and airlifted to the nearest hospital. Which meant that you weren’t conscious when you got out of the car. Which meant fucking terrible things. 

Time passed and nothing really happened, so they were all sent back to their hotel rooms. 

“Hey Osc, you want us to come with you? We don’t want you to be on your own right now,” Logan smiled softly, standing at the exit to the McLaren motorhome. Beside Logan was George, Lando, and Alex.

“Thanks guys,” he mustered up some half-smile and they shared a car, then hung out in his room for a few hours. 

Oscar’s phone rang after about an hour, an unknown number. Usually, calls like these would go ignored, especially at a time like this, but something told him to pick it up. 

“Piastri speaking,” he asked quietly. 

“This is Oscar Piastri? Y/n Y/l/n’s emergency contact?” a female voice asked. 

“Yes, yes it is,” he blurted out, grabbing the attention of Logan, Alex, George, and Lando beside him. They held their breath. 

“Well, Y/n was in an accident on the track and she suffered extreme internal bleeding from a broken rib, one that broke during the early laps of the race. She passed out from a lack of oxygen, and crashed into the barrier at a very high speed, meaning that she has a few more broken bones and issues. We'd ask you to come to visit her, she’s been asking about you non-stop since she woke up.”

“S-she’s awake?” 

“Yes, Mr. Piastri, and she’s refusing to take any medication unless you come down here.” 

“I’m on my way,” he hung up the phone without questioning and grabbed his coat and shoes, as the boys followed. Oscar didn’t even bother putting on his shoes as he ran through the hotel and out into the pouring rain. Logan hailed a cab as the other boys tried to get him to calm down. 

“You need to slow down,” George soothed, getting a grip on Oscar’s shoulder. It was strange for them, seeing this much emotion from Oscar. He’d always been so level-headed, so calm. Well, it wasn’t strange for Logan to see it. He was there in f2 when Oscar started crushing on you, and when you two got together. Every summer break you three (and a few other ex-f2- current f2 drivers) go on a week-long trip, just to stay in contact, Logan got a front-row seat to Oscar’s devotion to you. It was sweet, and it brought Oscar out of his shell. 

“She’s refusing medication, if I don’t get there fucking quicker, George, so no, I don’t plan on calming down-” he cursed, brushing his hand off his shoulder. 

“Hey! That was shitty, apologise Oscar. Everyone’s fuckin’ stressed right now,” Logan called back as the taxi pulled up.

“Sorry George,” Oscar added and George nodded, unaffected by his comment. 

The car ride was tense, all of them wanted to get to you, needed to get to you. The hospital came into view, and the boys ran out, George paying the driver and following the rest of them into the foyer. 

“Oscar Piastri, I’m here for Y/n Y/l/n?” 

“Oh yes! Are you family?” the nurse behind the desk asked. 

“I’m her emergency contact,” he replied. 

“Yes, but are you family?”

“I’m her fiancé?” he answered. 

“What?” Lando gasped. “You two got engaged?”

“During the summer break,” Logan answered. “He was planning on telling you after today.”

“All her family is in another country,” Oscar explained. “I’m the closest thing- we’re the closest thing.”

The nurse nodded and handed them visitor badges, and led them up to your room. 

“You go in first,” George nodded to Oscar. “You’ve got this.”

Oscar tried to look positive, but it was difficult when the love of his life was in a hospital bed behind the door in front of him. He pushed open the door and when he saw you, he wanted to scream. Hooked up to machines, but you were awake and bothering the nurse about him. Who gave a shit about him? You were important, you were the most important thing on the planet. 

“Baby, take the meds please,” he barely whispered, but you heard it and almost cried at the relief. She administered the drugs and left you to be. Your engineer left the room to give you privacy, he’d gone in the helicopter with you and had been the first to notice something wrong with you during the race. 

Oscar listened as the nurse explained your condition before she left. They suspected that you’d broken a rib during the first few laps, but it had punctured your lung, and you’d passed out in the car. Then you went straight into a barrier at almost 250 km/h. You broke 3 more ribs, 5 vertebrae in your back, your right hip, your right leg, your left arm, and you fractured your collarbone, as well as all the bruising and cuts you’d gotten. He felt sick to his stomach. The nurse left to inform the others.

Oscar stood at the end of your bed. “What were you thinking? Why would you refuse medicine?” He asked, his voice tense but calm.

“I wanted to see you,” you shrugged. “I needed to talk to you.”

He looked up to see you. The bruising, the cuts, the bandages, all of it, it was almost too much. 

“I lost the ring,” you admitted, choking up. “When I woke up it was gone. I’m so sorry Osc-”

“I dont give a fuck about the ring baby, I care about you. I care that you’re alive, alright?” He sighed, moving closer to your face. “I’ll get you another.”

You started crying as you held him close. It was all too much, the pain, the stress, thinking about what would happen after you got out, wondering if you’d ever be in an F1 car again, it was too much. Oscar always seemed to calm you down, to settle you, not this time. You’d never seen him this stressed, no one had. It was unsettling, unnatural, and it made you more worried, it made you think more, and it made everything too real. Every sob that left your body caused another surge of pain through your back and chest, god, broken ribs were no joke. You kept crying and he kept holding you, pleading with you to stop because he knew how painful it was, and he knew you’d pass out, and he’d be alone again. 

You passed out in his arms and the nurses ushered him away and back to the boys. 

“How is she?” Alex asked, standing from his seat.

“She passed out,” Oscar answered. “She’s in so much pain.”

Logan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll pull through. She’s the strongest person we know.”

Oscar nodded as tears filled his eyes. “This is so fucking unfair,” he cursed. 

“We know mate,” Lando agreed. “We’re fucking livid.”

“Did she at least take the meds?” George asked. 

Oscar scoffed. “Yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “She wanted to talk to me because she lost the fucking ring I gave her. Like I’d ever fucking give a shit about a ring over her.”

Logan chuckled softly. “Well, that’s your Y/n for you. Loyal.”

They all cracked a smile, even Oscar (kind of). 

“She’s going to be ok, alright?” George reminded him. “She’ll be back in that car in no time. She’s a fighter.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep going if she doesn’t,” Oscar answered. The weight of his confession sobered the other three to the somberness of the moment. 

“Well, it’s a good thing she’ll pull through,” Alex said. 

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[blorbocedes]

On: different parenting approaches

so keke rosberg has a world championship, and a newborn son. he retires the sport a year after, the shadow of tragedy following him -- the fatal crash of his friend and f1 driver elio de angelis being the reason.

now keke has a blonde baby that looks like its mother and babbles in german. he bonds with his son in the language he knows best — no, not his mother tongue rusty with disuse — racing.

so he builds a track in their garden in ibiza and sticks his son in the two person kart beside him before he is old enough for the helmet to even fit properly.

keke takes nico to the last race of his career in DTM, in a smaller replica of his exact uniform. keke tells him to wave. the roar of the crowd terrifies nico. he can't. he wants to be a racing driver when he grows up.

and you know this part of the story. the boy follows in his father's footsteps. in the sport of nepotism, keke rosberg is the only world champion father who lives to see his son become a champion.

so nico rosberg has a world championship and a newborn daughter. he retires the sport a year after she is born. he knows the same fatality of the sport his father does, has experienced and lost firsthand.

now nico has a blonde baby that looks like its mother and babbles in german. nico wants to bond with her in every way he can. he wants to be hands on in every way.

he speaks 5 languages, went to an international school and both she and her sister are enrolled in the same one. he reads parenting books, has tea parties with them, and drops them to school.

the thought of his daughters following in his footsteps terrifies him, and he understands now why his mother could never stomach to watch a single race of his. this glorious unforgiving sport of his, and his father's, that doesn't care who it takes. and it seems unthinkable to put a child in a racecar, even though that was his childhood.

but if she really wanted, like he really wanted -- he would not deny it.

so he takes her to a indoor go kart track in monaco, in a helmet that's bigger than her. he's tucked right behind her, safe. they share so many languages in common, french growing up in monaco, german at home, english at school, some spanish from going to ibiza. and this -- although it's been a while since he's really spoken it, his father's language-- is one of them.

[qqueenofhades]

I would like to... gently shake the people going 'Dick Cheney/Alberto Gonzalez/[insert neoconservative architect here] endorsing Harris is entirely and only a bad look for Harris' because that's not the point. And like, I get feeling weird about it (I've been unimpressed with Dick's backpedaling since Liz Cheney got primaried), but: Trump is proving too extreme for THE PEOPLE WHO MADE HIM POSSIBLE. This is their consequences. THAT'S the point.

Look, this is what I think about it: I fucking hate Dick Cheney and all the architects of the Bush Junior neoconservatism-early-aughts-War-on-Terror-Patriot-Act-No-Child-Left-Behinding Republican Party that laid the groundwork for the Tea Party and then for Trump. If there was any justice in the world, Dubya would be at the Hague for a war crimes tribunal and not allowed to sit in Texas painting dogs and enjoying a quiet retirement. But he was fortunate to be the president of the most powerful country in the world, and America doesn't obey international law unless it feels like it, so that's what we get. (And yes, someone asked Dubya if he was going to endorse in 2024, following Cheney, and was told, no doubt with much pious handwringing, that "President Bush retired from presidential politics many years ago." But he's still raising money for MAGA Senate candidates in Pennsylvania, evidently. Fuck you, George W. Bush. Kids these days don't say it enough.)

However, since literally the entire pre-Trump establishment Republican party is now deciding that Trump is too insane, fascist, and dangerous even for them, I'm not surprised but still annoyed that Online Leftist Logic (TM) has translated that to "Harris must secretly be an early-noughties hard-right neocon Republican and that's why they want to vote for her!!!" Most if not all of them have said that they openly disagree with her policies but are voting for her anyway because she is the only way to maintain American constitutional democracy. And yes, we're all shocked that DICK FUCKING CHENEY, architect of the Iraq War and the Patriot Act, felt that there was in fact a line of fascist government overreach that he wasn't willing to cross, but if that's the case -- if even these completely terrible warmongering corporate assholes are like "uh Trump is too bad even for us to support," then you should, I don't know, maybe listen to that. But as ever, I search for logic in vain.

Likewise: Harris has made zero policy concessions to these Republicans and she never went fishing for Cheney's endorsement specifically. She didn't suddenly declare Iraq a totally okay and normal thing in order to get Cheney and his warhawks on board, and yes, Old Dickhead probably has no small amount of personal motive to get back at Trump considering what he did to Liz. But that's the thing where apparently political motives should only ever be pure, moral, and Perfect, and taking the right action for the "wrong" reasons is still disqualifying because you weren't thinking enough pure moral thoughts while you did it, or something. I don't give a fuck why Cheney decided to vote for Harris, because I don't respect his opinion and can't foresee myself ever doing so. But because we are in an unprecedented historical moment where even DICK GODDAMN CHENEY thinks that Donald Trump is too dangerous to ever have power again, I will thank him for doing that and that alone and then tell him to hit the f'n road if he thinks he deserves a scrap of credit or Democratic policy concessions for it. He doesn't. He sucks. But he's still making a choice that we need to see made at this moment, and people who don't get that, as usual, can STFU.

Basically: Cheney's endorsement is not directed at you, and it's not intended to move voters who already fit your profile and therefore think, like I do, that Cheney can eat shit. It's directed to all the career-Republican-politician types who can see him doing that and decide that they can do the same thing. Hell, we just had 17 former staffers of Ronald Reagan announcing their Harris endorsement (in addition to the 200+ Bush, McCain, Romney alumni who already signed on and all the ex-Trump officials at the DNC) and going so far as to insist that Ol' Ronnie Raygun himself would have supported Harris. Now look. I hate Ronald Reagan more than any other twentieth-century president. The degree to which he ALSO laid the groundwork for incredible damage to America cannot be overstated. But because I am not an idiot, I can see that this does not mean Harris has suddenly turned into Reagan in her policies. So. Yeah.

The other thing to note here is that Harris has seen the advantage in cultivating a bipartisan coalition and making a cross-party case for voting her to preserve American democracy. Now, a lot of the Republicans have said that they are going to stay Republicans and they want to purge their party of Trump and MAGAism, they are trying to buy time for that transition to happen by voting for Harris, and while I have never voted for or agreed with a Republican in my whole life, I actually think that's a good thing! I don't WANT to fear the end of American democracy every four years because the Republican Party has become a screaming shitgibboning insane vehicle of American Gilead while inciting stochastic terrorism against Springfield, Ohio and everyone else who doesn't bow down to Trumpist Dear Leader and his KKK alt-right Elon Muskified supporters! I don't WANT this howling fascist conspiracy-theory-puppet-of-Vladimir-Putin black hole of violence to be just what we have to accept as the center-right (except you know, now far-far-far-far-can't-see-it-with-a-telescope-right) party in America! I would prefer it if we had a functioning democracy again where both parties were engaging in fair competitiveness and good faith and had the basic premise of making people's lives better, even if they disagreed about how to do it! I would REALLY like it if we could go back to the days of disagreeing about taxes and foreign policy and social welfare -- you know, NORMAL THINGS -- instead of Commander Vance and the Project 2025 foot soldiers trying to install a theocratic fascist dictatorship! I WOULD LIKE THAT A WHOLE LOT!

That said: I have pretty much reached my limit with asking people to vote. I have done it for 8+ years (since before Trump was elected the first time) and I'm done. Either you know the stakes of this election at this point, or you're so blindly and stupidly committed to misunderstanding them that there's nothing I or anyone else can possibly do to convince you. I still see people posting a lot of stuff from the bad-faith anti-democratic leftist cranks and arguing with them endlessly and... why? Why? Why are you giving them the oxygen and exposure that they crave, and which is giving them more attention than anyone else is giving them? Block them. Mute them. STOP ENGAGING WITH EVERYTHING THEY SAY EVEN IF YOU'RE TRYING TO REFUTE IT. It's not going to work, and at this point, it's not remotely conducive to winning this election. The Great Myth of the Undecided Voter (TM) is another one that, I hope, can finally bite the dust, and the actual undecided voters who are out there are not the ones posting dirtbag leftist bullshit about Harris on The Website Formerly Known as Twitter. This election is now completely down to a numbers game: who can make their identified voters turn out to vote. So please. Spend your time and energy on reaching those folks, who might want to or have said they will vote but need a push or extra help to make sure they do.

That being the case, if lifelong Republicans want to vote for Harris and help defeat a Trump dictatorship, they're actually being more helpful for the cause of American democracy than every single shrieking Online Leftist out there, and maybe they should think about that. I'm amused at how they still think they can make demands of the Democrats, because -- when your entire plan from the word go has been "I'm not voting for the Democrats and there's nothing you can do to make me!!!" -- why are you surprised that they don't take your thoughts and opinions into account? That's the basic simplest Democracy 101 version of how electoral politics works. If you have removed yourself from their voter pool and laugh and scoff at any suggestion that you should enter it, then they're not gonna listen to you or think that they should make policy to appease you (which is good, because most of these people are fucking nuts). That's why they're blowing a gasket disowning AOC, still one of the most left-wing members in the House, because she wants to actually win and make real changes in society and has reached a happy-ish marriage with the Democratic party, instead of virtuously losing her seat and becoming irrelevant like some other members of the Squad who got primaried out this year. And the Democrats have accepted many of AOC's views as mainstream policy! She didn't change, but she stayed in the party and worked with it, and the party as a whole is moving to where she was all along. But because any hint of compromise or working to get results, rather than just posting self-righteous screeds on the internet, is Bad, she had to go, I guess. Or something.

Anyway. That's the that on that. If you want to win this election, target and talk to the people who have already identified themselves as likely or possible voters, they just need that extra push to become definite voters. I'm over the anti-democratic hypocritical leftist cranks as much as I am the screaming shitgibboning racist-mob-inciting fascists. If it takes some Republicans gritting their teeth and getting on board the "let's save American democracy" boat with me, then fine. They're actually willing to do the smallest tiny thing to make that outcome come about, and that means, for right now, they are the enemy of my enemy and I'll accept their help. After that, I would in fact like it if we had a sane center-right party again, once Trump is in jail and we can fumigate the MAGA rot. It's up to them.

[meazalykov]

that's a wrap

alex popp x actress!reader

summary: you decide that it is time to become a full-time wife

in the golden glow of the los angeles twilight, you gaze out of your sleek penthouse window, the city sprawling beneath you like a living canvas painted with vibrant hues of orange and deepening blue. 

you have lived in this city for so long, your life woven into the cinematic fabric. from the moment you left germany as a child, your heart yearned for a stage—the bright lights of hollywood, the echo of applause, and the thrill of storytelling. 

you have become one of the most recognized actresses of your generation in the horror genre. an oscar at nineteen, an emmy at twenty-three, and countless nominations and awards have been attached to your name. 

with each role you’ve played, your name becomes tied to brilliance, embodying strength and vulnerability.

yet, as your career flourishes, an unsettling feeling begins to simmer beneath the surface—a whisper of change, a longing for something different. 

at thirty-one, you find a different kind of love is beckoning from across the ocean.

alex, your wife and the fierce striker for wolfsburg, has always been your anchor. mutual friends introduced you to her back in 2014, and due to your career you couldn’t take things seriously at first. however, alex always tried with you. you’ve been married to her now for four years, and its been the best four years of your life.

one day, when you came back to germany for a couple of months, alex wanted to talk to you..

“i’m thinking of retiring from international football,” alex says one evening, her voice steady but laced with a hint of uncertainty. you are nestled together on your plush couch, surrounded by the cozy warmth of your shared home. you sense the gravity of the declaration. 

football has been everything for her—the highs of goals scored, the heartache of losses, the euro wins (and losses), alex loved football more than anything (besides you of course). 

“are you sure?” you ask, searching alex’s emerald-green eyes, which are reflective with both spark and sadness. you remember the times you’ve spent watching matches together, the way she lights up at every goal and every tackle, the intensity that comes alive within her. 

“you’ve worked so hard for this.”

a small smile curls on alex’s lips, her fingers intertwining with yours. 

“i have, and it’s been an incredible journey. but i think it’s time for a change. i want to focus on the club, on my next steps, and… on us.” she pauses, laying her head on your shoulder. 

“the idea of retiring feels freeing, like opening a door to something new. but it’s a big step, especially with how much i’ve given to the national team.”

your heart flutters at her words. there it is—the dream of shared life, the possibility of focusing on each other more than your respective careers. but you feel a twinge of your own aspirations weaving into the conversation. 

in recent months, you have found yourself more and more drained by the demands of acting. each press tour and red carpet event feels like a weight; the personas you crafted for the cameras sometimes feel far removed from who you want to be.

your love for acting left years ago, but you’ve never talked about it. millions of people would do anything to have the success that you had, which is why you remained humble when it came to your career.

you bite your lip, contemplating your own path.

“and what about you?” 

you finally speak, your voice soft and contemplative. 

“i mean, i’ve been thinking... maybe it’s time for me to step back, too.”

alex turns her head sharply, a mixture of surprise and concern twisting her features. 

“what do you mean?”

you take a deep breath, your heart racing. 

“i’ve loved acting my whole life. since i was ten years old.. but lately… i don’t know. it feels like there’s something more out there for me. something besides just the next film or the next award. maybe i want to stay here, with you, in germany. support you full-time as you transition.”

“you love what you do,” alex reminds you, concern etched into her expression.

“i do.. i think,” you acknowledge, “but I don’t know if it’s what I want anymore. it’s all so noisy, and sometimes I crave the quiet—the kind I can have with you.” it’s a realization you’ve been wrestling with, the weight of your own dreams now intertwined with the desire to nurture the softness of your domestic life.

at the age of ten, you left germany to be on a famous 2000s sitcom in the united states. not much was known about you, since you were a child playing in a child’s role at the time. you were on the sitcom from the age of ten to seventeen. afterwards, you moved onto movies– which is where you started getting your name plastered with the huge box office hits. 

the following days with alex blur into a blend of introspection and exhilaration. 

you left germany, again, a month after the conversation you had with your wife. 

you are scheduled to appear on a popular late-night show in new york city—a platform that demands your presence but feels like yet another bolt of pressure in the timeline of your life. you look forward to it; yet, somewhere deep down, you wonder how your announcement will change things. 

the thought of standing in front of an audience—centering their gaze on you, waiting for your words—fills you with both excitement and anxiety. it always had. 

as the lights of new york glimmer outside the studio windows, you sit backstage, your heart echoing loudly against your ribcage. the host, a charming figure with a knack for drawing out emotion, greets you with warmth that feels strangely nourishing amidst the crowd’s overwhelming enthusiasm. 

once seated beneath the bright lights, you feel the familiar rush of adrenaline, but this time it’s laced with purpose.

“y/n y/n y/n,” the host smiles, 

“the first time you’ve sat in this chair, you were 13 years old with the cast of that 70s show– you’ve dazzled ussince you were just a child. your transformative performances have captivated audiences worldwide.” 

the host stops talking as the audience claps, you smile, your hands held together in your lap as you sit in a nice black blazer outfit.

“but tonight, we hear you have some news that may surprise your fans.” the host says after the clapping died down.

you clear your throat, feeling the electrifying rush in your veins as you lean forward.

“thank you so much for having me,” you begin, the words flowing as if infused with years of pent-up emotion. 

“ it has been a privilege to do what I love for all these years, but tonight I want to share something personal. after woman of the hour premieres, it will be my last movie you will see me in.” the studio falls silent, the audience holding its breath in disbelief.

“after the film premieres, I will be retiring from acting for good.”

the reactions erupt—gasps, applause, disbelief—as you feel the host’s eyes wide with surprise. you smile gently, eyes twinkling with both sadness and liberation. 

“life changes, and so do we. for me, it’s about stepping back to embrace the next chapter—to support my wife, to explore new passions, to discover who I am outside the roles I’ve played.”

the host nods, admiration shining in his eyes. 

“that’s incredibly brave of you, y/n. how does it feel to step away from something that has defined you for so long?”

“it feels... freeing. and a little scary.” you let out a soft laugh, your heart now racing with vulnerability. 

“but I realized that life is about growing, about finding joy in unexpected places. for me, it’s about my family. we’re at the point where it feels right to re-prioritize what matters.”

your words resonate through the studio, and as your announcement settles, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. the claps and cheers from the audience feel like an embrace. 

this is your decision, not just for you, but for your love, for a future you envision filled with laughter, and quiet evenings.

as soon as the segment concludes and the applause fades, you are flooded with emotion. walking off the stage, you can already envision the life ahead of you in germany, around the comforts of home and the brilliant sun-kissed laughter alongside alex. no more LA, just wolfsburg where your heart belongs. 

you can finally imagine taking long morning walks, exploring new projects, starting fresh hobbies together—whatever you both like at that moment in time.

when you return home to germany that night, alex is waiting for you, a mixture of pride and adoration in her eyes. 

“i saw you,” she whispers as you embrace, her voice tinged with warmth that melts away the lingering uncertainty. 

“you were amazing, love.”

together, you sink into your beloved couch, the world outside shuttered in the nighttime calm. 

“i can’t believe you actually did it,” alex says, a playful rise in her voice. 

“you dropped the bomb.”

you laugh, the warmth blooming in your chest. 

“felt like the right moment.”

“yes,” alex smiles. you feel the flutter of excitement at the thought of so many uncharted territories waiting for you both.

“imagine how lovely it will be,” alex continues, taking your hand between her own. 

“to wake up every day without the rush of schedules, just life… our life.”

“with lots of dogs and the daughter we hope to bring in the next few years,” you tease, knowing the next steps you’ve discussed with your wife.

“how about we start with a little getaway to the mountains next weekend?”

“that sounds perfect,” you declare, her fondness illuminating as you share a kiss, both of you feeling free from the burdens that once held you captive.

masterlist

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered The Door

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Present Day

Your head rests against your forearms on your desk, jerking upwards as a loud rhythmic knocking assaults the front door of your apartment.

What?

You think to yourself, rubbing your face with your hands. Your sketchpad was laid open on your desk beneath your head, the rough sketch of an egret bowing its head along the bank of a small pond splayed over the page in shades of gray. It would be the first in your new series of nature paintings that you would be unveiling in a month.

At least I didn't poke my eye out with the pencil. You think eyeing the sharpened point of the pencil that was dangerously close to your face a few seconds ago.

You turn your wrist to glance at your watch and note the time. It was an antique, square faced and strung on a simple black band, a reminder of a past life that you couldn't bear to part with.

Who would come see me at 8:00 am on a Monday?

For a minute you try to remember if you'd received a call from the curator of the gallery downtown, or if there had been a meeting or a lunch with your agent to discuss your next installment of work, but nothing comes to mind.

When you officially retired from being a hero you decided to become a full time artist, a hobby you had since you were a child. You hadn't expected it explode. You had enough money from your heroing career to live several lifetimes, not unwelcome given the fact that you couldn't die, not in the traditional sense at least, so art was supposed to just be a way for you to off steam. But you were happy with your life now, a lot happier than you had been when you were a hero on Payback. The thought of your previous employment with Vought sours in your mouth followed by the unavoidable thought of Ben that you push down with a well practiced sigh.

You didn't feel like reliving all that over again right now, though you knew it would probably happen later. It came in waves, especially at night when you found it difficult to sleep, the melatonin wasn't working, and all you really wanted was a hard drink.

Sobriety sucked.

The knocking persists, rattling around in your head like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup.

"Fine. I'm coming." You shout standing up from your desk and making your way from the wall that serves as your studio towards the front door of your apartment, while trying to rub away the line the page made on your cheek.

Your apartment was the one extravagance you allowed yourself. Despite the amount of money you had, flashing it had never been a priority even in your hero days. The apartment was open concept with exposed brick walls, tall North facing windows that angled away from the inside and jutted outward over a raised wooden floored area that served as your studio. A large modern kitchen sat just to the right of the front door with stainless steel appliances, on another wall a tv hung above a leather couch and held a dark hallway that lead to your bedroom and the guest bedroom, the other walls were covered in your work, and the final wall held several bookshelves with art supplies and your vinyl record collection. A collection you started forever ago and that continued to grow with each passing year.

Need to get another bookshelf. You note looking at the limited space that remained.

You look through the peep hole in the solid metal apartment door. A tall dark haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a black duster and a thin younger guy with brown curly hair stare back at you.

"I don't want to buy any girl scout cookies." You shout through the heavy metal of the door.

The younger guy snorts.

"y/f/n y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

At the mention of Ben's hero name you pause. You had avoided thinking about your former best friend as much as possible over the past forty years. Your relationship with Ben was complicated, the final few days you spent together even more complicated than the early years.

It hurt to compare what your life with him was like before you both became supes to the life you had together after. You had grown up together, forced into close proximity because your parents were friends and then became best friends yourselves. You stayed friends, before you both got injected with Compound V and a few years later moved on to Payback together. You were the only person able to keep Ben in check and as violent as his temper was, he didn't like to cross you. You were the only person who knew the real him, had been with him longer than anyone else. Not that he ever admitted that to you or admitted that he cared about you, but you thought somewhere deep down that he had to, felt at least something for you.

That was the problem. You were in love with him, cared deeply about him, cared more about him than anyone else you'd ever had in your life. On the night you finally slept together you were happy, you thought he felt the same way, and then the next day at his premiere you found him in the bathroom with Countess bent over a sink. The fight that followed had been your resignation from Payback and also the reason why you weren't there when Ben died.

Your jaw clenches together at the memory, followed by guilt. You were always there for him, you had his back just as he had yours, but the one time you hadn't been there-

You open the door to look at them. "The singer?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The artist? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua. Both of you were standing in your supe suits, your own was a sleeveless black one piece suit with purple embellishments that traced from the sides of your ankles and stretched up under your armpits, while a dark hood covered your head and a black mask hid the bottom of your face. You always thought you looked more like a supervillain in it, but you were thankful that it hid your identity. It was so long ago, but you still remember that night clearly. The ridiculous movie, the afterparty where everyone was so tipsy and the smell of alcohol burned against your nose, and finally when you went to the bathroom and found Ben and Countess together, the immeasurable rage followed by heartbreak that you felt when you saw them.  Not to mention the fight that followed when Ben trampled all over your heart and stated that you meant nothing to him.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo? I mean y’all can come in if you want-“ You open the door wider, understanding that they won't leave, before you begin to move towards the kitchen. “I apologize in advance. I’m not quite myself, I was up late working.” You pause halfway into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee, you guys want some?” You eye the man in the black coat. "Or tea?"

“Coffee is fine."

You find the coffee filters and shuffle through the cupboards to find a bag of coffee, still trying to wake up. Staying up late wasn't unusual for you. You tended to find the urge to create in the wee hours of the morning, not to mention everything that happened in the past kept you up.

You open the bag of coffee to smell the grounds, thinking that it will wake you up, but as soon as you do the smell of Agent Butcher and Agent Campbell washes over you.

You could smell the compound V in their veins pumping through their bodies with every beat of their hearts.

So, they're supes. You think to yourself, pouring the grounds into the coffeemaker. Which means they probably aren't from the CIA.

Despite the realization, you weren't worried. Your particular ability was a well-kept secret, a secret that only Ben knew despite you being on Payback. Stan Edgar and the others had believed that "Indigo," the hero name assigned to you, had enhanced strength and senses, but it was more than that. You had an ability that, if brought to the public, would probably land you in a government facility. Laying low had it's perks, your freedom was one of them.

You watch them begin to walk around your living room examining the artifacts of your new life, the one you crafted when everything fell apart. There wasn't anything in the living room to arouse suspicion that you were the original Indigo. The only remnants of your past life that remained were in a wooden trunk at the back of your walk in closet, hidden behind a collection of paint splattered overalls almost identical to the pair you were wearing right now.

"You've got a nice place." The younger guy says looking around.

"Thanks. It's rent controlled. I got lucky-" You fiddle with the coffeemaker to buy yourself some time.

Why were they here to ask me about Ben? It had been 40 years, hardly seems relevant now. And why were they pretending to be CIA?

"You're an artist?" Agent Butcher asks, staring at the canvas sitting on an easel by your desk. It was a collection of multicolored dark greens that swirled together, flecked with pieces of gold that shone in the brilliant sunlight from the wall of windows where your studio was.

"Yeah. And I tend to paint my best at night. Hence the coffee" You turn, placing your hands on the island to face the two men.

“You’re really good.” Agent Campbell says examining some of the canvases on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“So your mum eh?” Agent Butcher turns to look at you. You note the smirk on his face and incredulous raising of his brow.

He doesn't believe me. Hard not to. I don't age.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow to challenge him

“You look a lot like her.”

“Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” You look from Butcher to the younger guy who has moved on to look at your vinyl collection. "And I'm pretty sure that most kids look like their parents. But I'm not a geneticist."

"NO WAY! You have a signed copy of Billy Joel's Glass House!" Agent Campbell shouts holding up the vinyl cover in awe.

"Yeah." You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"How did you-“

"Hughie." Agent Butcher sighs.

The younger guy now identified as Hughie puts the record back with a frown, before turning back to the collection.

“But you have the same name.” Agent Butcher's eyes flit to yours.

“She named me after herself. I’m sure the CIA can locate my birth certificate."

“Right.” Agent Butcher smiles, but it’s tight lipped.

You stand there for another minute looking from Agent Butcher to Hughie, trying to think of why they're here. "So what do you want to know?”

“Well is your mum around-“

You allow your shoulders to droop and take in a shaky breath. "She died about a year ago. Cancer."

They weren't the first to come here and accuse you of being Indigo. Legend and you had come up with the farce to protect you, help you start over, but you hadn't wanted to part with your name. So other precautions were put in place: a funeral plot was purchased and a death certificate was issued as was a fake passport, I.D, and birth certificate that made you thirty two rather than over one hundred.

“Really? I thought Indigo-“ It’s enough to make Hughie turn around and look at you.

“Don’t read everything Vought says." You interrupt. "That experimental shit they put in her veins may have made her powerful, but it couldn’t protect her from that.” You sigh again to sell the lie, before turning to the coffee maker, to pour them and yourself a cup. "There should be some milk in there, sugar's in the bowl." You gesture to the refrigerator and the small blown glass sugar bowl on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Hughie moves into the kitchen to pour himself a cup, but Agent Butcher continues to eye you suspiciously.

“It wasn’t in the news.” He grunts.

“They covered it up pretty well. I mean do you blame them? One of the first supes gets killed by something like cancer. Can’t be good for Vought given they pride themselves on showcasing unstoppable heroes. I mean can you imagine if Homelander or Queen Maeve died of something like cancer? Doesn’t look good.” You shrug your shoulders and take a sip from the coffee in your hands. “What did you want to talk to her about?”

“Soldier Boy.” Butcher moves to the coffeemaker and it takes a strong amount of willpower to stop the urge to turn towards him, but you know that you need to act indifferent.

“Did she talk to you at all about him?” Hughie moves to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island with his coffee in front of him.

“Yeah.” You look down at the mug with a sigh, rolling the warm glass between your hands. “He really did a number on her. Plus towards the end she started seeing him everywhere."

The emotion that you summon is not fake. You allow a small amount to trickle over the dam you built to protect yourself from falling back into the pit you fell into when Ben broke your heart and then died. When you broke every piece of glass in your apartment and threw your couch through the wall.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Hughie looks sincere when he says it.

Why is someone like him hanging out with this guy? You think to yourself eyeing Agent Butcher again.

“It’s been hard. But I took care of her, sometimes it was only me. It’s kind of hard to restrain an 103 year old with super strength.” You smile to yourself at the joke.

“So you’re a supe?” Hughie takes a sip from his coffee mug.

“No I was just able to talk her down. Guess that first batch of Compound V doesn’t work the same way. Never transferred. Plus my dad wasn’t a supe so maybe it just diluted.” You shrug, the lies weaving easily through the air. 

“But she did talk to you about him?” Agent Butcher presses. He's leaning against the counter to your left.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I mean what do you want to hear? There’s a lot.” The mug sends a pleasant warmth through your hands as you hold it, but does little to stop the chill of the past from creeping up your spine.

“Start at the beginning.”

“Well.” You take another sip of coffee. “I don’t know details-details but- I just know that she grew up with him, they were from the same neighborhood in Philadelphia.  All that shit they made up about Soldier Boy being from a poor family was just propaganda. His dad owned half the steel mills in the state of Pennsylvania. Used to invest in property with my grandfather. Soldier Boy and my mom were friends. When he got the Compound V shot, she did too. They were looking for female and male volunteers. I think he asked her to? Or-“ You shrug your shoulders to push away the memory of the day Ben told you about the experiments. When he told you he was finally going to make something of himself and convinced you to go with him.

“They were dating?” Agent Butcher asks.

The question makes you pause. It was difficult to think about that, difficult to relive the memories of Ben continuing to push you away and his final refusal to admit he loved you. Ben never did say that to you. You had been through so much together, so many years as friends and then after the night you finally were together he threw you away like you meant nothing.

“No, but he really hurt her-“ You avoid their gaze.

“What did he do?” Hughie asks leaning forward on the counter.

“They had been through a lot together and I think when their friendship began to transfer to relationship he pushed her away. My mother said something about him refusing to admit he loved her. I think the last straw when she caught him with Countess.”

“Do you know anything about how he died?”

The memory of the phone call strikes you in the chest, when Stan Edgar himself called to tell you Ben was dead. When the darkness swallowed you whole and all you felt was guilt and heart break over the fight you had and how you left him alone when he needed you most.

“It hurt my mother a lot. Broke her. She never really got over him, no one was good enough, not even my dad. She drove him away too and then it was just us.”

“Was she there when Soldier Boy died?” Hughie spins the coffee mug in his hands.

“No. She left Payback  before that mission. It was right after she caught Countess and him together.” You force a shrug. “I think she regretted not being there. She was almost as indestructible as him, but I think she felt worse because they had a big fight right before.”

“So she didn’t know about Nicaragua or the thing that killed him?” Agent Butcher raises an eyebrow.

You cock your head to the side feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Soldier Boy got vaporized in a nuclear explosion.”

“Well I think we’ve wasted enough of your time.”

They get up to leave.

“Wait-“

 Agent Butcher turns to look at you. 

“Why are you asking me about him? It's been what? Forty years since he died-"

"That's classified love. Thank you for your time."

You watch them leave, but listen to them as they walk down the hallway.

“So do you believe her?” Hughie’s voice echoes in your ears.

“Not a bit. Maybe we trail her for a day. See if she really is an artist." Agent Butcher grunts. "At least until we go to Russia."

Russia? Why would they go to Russia?

You stand there for a second, holding the coffee mug in your hands. As you do the memories of the past 90 years wash across your mind, breaking through the damn that you built to protect yourself.

You were friends for years. You loved him since the moment you met. There were good times before the serum and then the bad, when he got famous and you were there to keep him in check. Sure you may have annoyed him, but he liked that about you, that you were able to bring him back from the edge. The day you finally had sex you remembered it, it was special, or you thought it was. You were excited that finally he loved you as much as you loved him. But then it all fell apart. That fight hadn’t been pretty. When you left him you felt yourself begin to slip, you didn’t eat or drink for days and when you finally got the phone call you thought it was him trying to apologize, but it was Stan.

You think again about Russia and finally your mind drifts to Countess.

She was the one that said that the Russians killed Ben, she saw it happen, saw his body get taken away-

Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration as you remember the last time you saw her, when she taunted you and you almost ripped off her head. You never heard it directly from her that Ben was dead, only heard it from Stan. Of course the ridiculous funeral for Ben that you were expected to go to would mean that you saw her, but you hadn't gone, didn't want to keep up the charade. Instead you went to Philadelphia and walked the streets aimlessly with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, remembering what it was like when you were kids. Sometimes you think it all would have been different if you never got the injection, if you said no when he showed up in your bedroom and asked you to come with him. He was your oldest friend. The only real person you'd ever loved or cared about. The memory of the fight rings in your ears but you push it down.

You think again about Countess.  She was the reason why Ben and you had the fight. The reason you weren't there in Nicaragua. Regret spikes in your chest. You should have been there that day, should have tried to save him. You always had each others backs and the one time you weren't there he died.

Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[wileys-russo]

Alessia Russo “if Kim asks Kyra did it. Training.

recovery roomII a.russo

"well well if it isn't our little hat trick hero!" you looked up from your phone with a grin, steph getting out of her own car as you pushed up off of the side of yours.

"if it isn't the mighty captain catley! where's your child?" you teased, kyra not having left stephs side basically the entire camp. "oh god i have had the most blissful two days kid, you don't even understand!" steph moaned happily, dean having whisked her away to a spa to help with the jetlag.

"you picked a good one steffy." you smiled, always happy to see how well dean treated her and had treated her for the many years they'd been together.

"your turn next! when are we going out to test my wings?" steph asked with an excited glint in her eyes as the two of you started to wander across the parking lot waving to a few of the girls doing the same.

"oh my god stop that stephanie please." you laughed, face burning bright red at the way the older girl was flapping her arms around like she was a bird. "what? i'm being a wingwoman." steph grinned as you shoved her and the two of you fell into step again.

as far as your teammates both for club and country were concerned, you were in their eyes painfully single.

they went out of their way on team nights out to try and take turns pointing out people from all walks of life they felt would be a good fit for you, or stealing your phone to argue over whose turn it was to swipe away on your dating apps.

and up until a couple of months ago, you appreciated their efforts. as much as what most of the girls perception of your 'type' was, was horrifically wrong.

but that all changed when a certain blonde striker came barreling into your life, knocking the air from your lungs and kicking the cobwebs off your heart, filling you with emotions and feelings that up until then you'd assumed were permanently retired.

but neither you or alessia were oficially 'out' and hadn't ever had any sort of public relationship your entire careers, so with a plaguing fear in the back of both your minds that allowing the public eye into your little bubble would pop it entirely, you'd kept things very much to yourselves.

you'd both made an agreement before international break that you were feeling near ready to tell your family and closest friends at the very least, neither one of you feeling any sort of pressure from the other which was a welcome relief.

but not having seen your girlfriend for going on two weeks now, with you away on camp with the matildas and alessia with the lionesses, you were in an extra chirpy mood.

which is how you found your jaw near aching with how hard you'd been smiling all morning, relishing in catching up with all of your teammates and friends.

but eyes flickering to the doors of the cafeteria every few seconds awaiting your favorites blonde entrance you couldn't contain the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach in anticipation.

"oi! spade cadet, you still with us?" you were snapped back to reality as leah clicked her fingers in your face, humming and trying to tune into their conversation. "sorry, had some weird dreams, slept funny." you were quick to speak, excuse seemingly accepted as no one else prodded you for anything further.

then finally you heard her before you saw her, her boisterously melodic laugh echoing around the cafeteria as she walked in with vic and emily, shoving the shorter dutch girl beside her who hurried away to jump on teyah.

her eyes roamed the room before they locked with yours, sending you a dazzling white smile and a wink before she grabbed a tray and loaded up with breakfast, making a beeline for the spare seat at your table as the girls all greeted her happily.

"hi lessi." you smiled softly, swooning as she repeated the greeting back in the sweet accent you'd grown to adore, her foot brushing up against your calf beneath the table as she pushed you her juice and your eyes lit up, her own heart melting at the sight.

"steph!" you protested as before you could grab the small bottle it was snatched from your path, the older girl cracking it open and downing a large mouthful, pushing you away with her free hand as you reached for it.

"i had to poison check it! i'm just looking out for ya." your national captain grinned finally handing you back the now half empty bottle as you scowled and she only pinched your cheek in response.

"kyra's been a bad influence on you." you huffed with a roll of your eyes, her shoulder bumping into yours before she returned to her conversation with beth.

you looked up as someone gently kicked you, a smile curling onto your face as you and alessia played footsies under the table, careful not to stare too adoringly at one another and engage with your teammates around you.

catching your gaze you saw the blonde subtly nod behind her as she stood, grabbing both her tray and yours as well as leah and beths, a chorus of thank you's sung her way as she made her way out of the cafeteria.

you waited a few minutes before doing the same, lying to steph that you left something in your car and wanted to hurry to grab it before training when she stood to go with you, assuming you were heading to the media room for the mornings debrief.

caught up saying hello to a few more of the girls on your way you eventually made it out and carefully ensuring you weren't being followed or watched ducked away to your usual meeting place with your english striker.

you'd barely stepped into the recovery room before her hands were on you, a laugh leaving your mouth as the door banged shut and she had the audacity to shush you, wolfish grin on her features as she pressed you against the tiled wall.

"me? you made me slam it!" you whisper yelled at her, both of you pulling the other into a tight hug, melting into one anothers touch with content sighs.

"i missed you." alessia mumbled out, peppering a few kisses to your neck before pulling her head back. "we facetimed nearly every night!" you teased, arms wrapping around her neck as the taller girl smiled lovingly down at you.

"no thats where you say 'baby i missed you more'. then we argue for awhile over who really missed the other more, and then i just shut you up with a kiss." alessia beamed as you shook your head, fingers scratching at the base of her neck, fiddling with a few loose baby hairs which had fallen out of the bun at the back of her head.

"can we just skip to that part then?" you teased, puckering your lips and pulling her closer as her body vibrated in amusement but she wasted no time arguing, quickly pressing her mouth against yours.

you exhaled happily at the sensation of kissing her, forever consumed with the euphoric feeling which warmed your body from the tips of your toes right to the end of your nose, your whole body alight.

"babe we have the meeting!" you reminded with a laugh, the words mumbled against her lips as alessia pressed you more firmly into the wall, hands squeezing your hips and using the moment to slip her tongue into your mouth.

"less." you warned, pulling back with a slight gasp as she held your bottom lip captive between her teeth, sucking it back into her mouth as her right hand moved to cup the back of your head so she had a little more control over you continuing to pull away.

right as her feet kicked your own apart, her thigh slotting in between yours and your breath hitched, a few more gentle but sloppy kisses trailed down your collarbone, the door suddenly flew open.

both of you breaking apart alessia wasted no time taking your hand and yanking you around the corner, both of you ducking out of view as your hands covered one anothers mouths and you heard a few members of staff discussing the plans for today, clearly grabbing some extra yoga mats before they departed, both of you exhaling in relief.

"that was way too close. you have no self control russo!" you smacked her chest, the grin still sitting happily on her face as both of your cheeks were flushed red with heat and your eyes rolled.

"we've still got seven minutes to the meeting and it only takes two and a half to walk there from here?" your girlfriend wiggled her eyebrows making you laugh as she pulled you gently into a much softer kiss, hands falling either side of your face as you sighed happily into her mouth.

"okay! we can continue this tonight." you pulled away and poked her, tugging her hands off and pushing for her to start walking. only you really should have taken into consideration that it was alessia you were dealing with, the girl born with two left feet both ten sizes too big for her body apparently.

so though it was a hardly a rough push, it was enough for your girlfriend to consequently trip over her own feet and go sailing toward the ground, reaching out for a shelf to try and steady herself but instead she only succeeded in pulling that down with her.

you stifled your laugh as she shielded her face and the viles of various essential oils and creams they used for massages came sailing down on top of her, somehow not breaking as finally the noise stopped and you both held your breath for a moment that no one would walk in.

when you heard no footsteps you doubled over laughing, the striker sitting up blushing in embarrassment and smacking your ankle, mumbling that it wasn't funny as she stood to her feet with a huff.

"come on clumsy." you shook your head in amusement, grabbing her hand and guiding her toward the door as she pouted clearly feeling very sorry for herself.

only right as you went to exit you both jumped a foot in the air as another one of the shelves came down, apparently attached to the other and this time the various containers which fell did break with an almighty crash and smash.

you and alessia shared a wide eyed glance and booked it out of the room, your girlfriend pulling you again around a corner and stealing a kiss as you both laughing into one anothers mouths to try and stifle the noise to no luck."

"if kim asks, kyra did it."

[starpains]

Ok, hear me out, an AU, where Anakin (45) is the CEO for a change, and his company decides to do what they do in The Intern, and hire an older person. Maybe not a retiree, but someone with limited career prospects. Cue in Obi-Wan (61), who only ever worked as a librarian, and all the libraries keep getting closed, and at his age nobody really wants to hire him anymore, because there’s younger people out there, who are further away from retirement.

Obi-Wan’s a total silver fox, and Anakin is a weak, weak person, also a workaholic with no private life to speak off. He also likes older men ok. He always has. Obi-Wan is just very confused throughout the whole thing. He hasn’t romanced anybody since his wife died 11 years before. Why is the CEO himself asking for his opinion and inviting him for coffee all of a sudden? He is just an assistant responsible for clerical tasks, using all of two fingers to type…

I was just thinking about The Intern, and my brain decided to turn it into old men romance. I find this idea very attractive, ok.

[mayawakening]

Somehow Imp!Kallus from Season 1 time travels to the future and meets up with Rebel!Kallus, but Imp!Kallus doesn't know he's defected:

Imp Kal: What DOES my future hold for me?

Rebel Kal: *trying not to reveal too much* Well, we have an awfully eventful career and end up with a fair amount of experience in the Intelligence network. Lots of travel and we meet many important people. We end up having quite a few memorable moments both in the Empire and the Rebe-er, our personal life.

Imp Kal: That is all I could have hoped to hear! Speaking of personal life, and I'm almost afraid to ask but, do we... find any kind of life partner?

Rebel Kal: *sweating* Um, well, yes! We end up quite happily married to a partner that loves us dearly. There isn't anything I wouldn't do to make them smile. We actually retire to a rather lovely and lively temperate planet. Huge house, beautiful garden, a few wonderful kits-KIDS.

Imp Kal: *could not be happier* I MUST know who this lovely individual is. When do I meet them?

Rebel Kal: *screaming internally* About that...

------Meanwhile----

Zeb sees that there are two Kallus's:

Zeb: *INTENSE IMPURE THOUGHTS*

[chaotic-toasters]

Invisible

TW: Bad-ish mental health

Chelsea!Reader

Ex-UNC!Reader

I don't think this makes any sense but whtvs

-----------------

Transfer to Chelsea, they said. It'll be fun, they said. Well, you said that they were wrong.

You signed for Chelsea under the promise of playing time and friendship, only to be immediately benched and left to wander the halls of Cobham by yourself.

In hindsight, it was a stupid decision to join the Blues. The winning WSL side had no need for you on their already stacked roster, and in no way were you going to be able to compete with the likes of Zecira Musovic and Hannah Hampton.

You'd once been told that only truly deserving and talented people could reach the professional level of a sport, but you were seriously doubting it. You weren't a quitter, but you were genuinely wondering if you should wait for your 23rd birthday next year to announce your retirement or if you should just announce it now. You were still young, and you weren't about to waste any more of your life waiting for your footballing career to blossom.

It was funny, you thought, how the same cycle just kept repeating. When you played in your home state of Chicago for the Red Stars, you'd sat on the bench and watched Alyssa Naeher, your captain and USWNT starting keeper, guard the net, but you'd at least been happy, being good friends with most of your teammates. Then, during your time at Manchester United, Marc Skinner had promised you that you'd play in games against easier opponents. You never did, always internally scolding yourself for believing that he would want to play you. Now, at Chelsea, you were all alone, not a familiar face or start in sight. The only time you'd been in the net during games was in college, where you'd been head of the DoD for UNC. That time was long gone, though.

-----------

"Y/N!" you almost missed Emma calling your name, too busy wondering if anyone would notice if you napped on the bench during the match. It was against Arsenal, but you were practically invisible to your teammates and the media alike.

"Yes?" you glanced up from the ground, only half-paying attention.

"Zecira isn't here and Hannah can't play on with that calf. You're going in."

"Okay." You didn't move, your manager's words not registering in your brain.

She stared at you. "Aren't you gonna go get your gloves?"

"Oh, right." You took off towards the changing room, grabbing your gloves, waterbottle, and blinding-white sweat towel that you'd had for the past three years.

When you went back outside, Emma patted you on the shoulder, offering you a word of advice and reminding you that the score was nil-nil.

It was embarrassingly quiet when you jogged into goal, the only cheers being a few quiet Chelsea fans in a sea of blue. You just shook your head to yourself, bouncing on the balls of your feet as play started up again. No distractions.

------------

A breakaway in the 51st minute had you barking orders at your backline, but none of your defenders were fast enough to catch up. Stina Blackstenius was sprinting at you full-force as you came out of your goal, and though her body shifted to the left and she passed the ball between her feet, you noticed how her eyes momentarily flicked upwards. Your hand instinctively shot up, smacking the ball away like a cat would a toy on a string, and as it flew over the crossbar, the entire stadium was silent other than the soft pitter-patter of rain on the roof.

The roar of the crowd rang out seconds later, and the Arsenal players eyed you with a newfound wariness as Steph Catley ran to take the corner kick.

"Hey," someone whispered, nudging you. "That was sick. I knew you still had it in you."

You glanced up and smiled. "Thanks, Foxy."

She ran back, sharing a few words with your other former UNC teammates, Alessia and Lotte, the three of them giving you small smiles as the whistle blew.

You came out of the net again as the ball came flying into the box, jumping up over Blackstenius again and swatting it away once more. The cheers from the Chelsea fans was deafening, drowning out whatever Emma was yelling to you from the sidelines.

Chelsea forwards and Arsenal defenders chased after the ball into the Arsenal half, leaving you, your defenders, and Arsenal forwards in your half. "Hey," Alessia called, giving you a little wave from the edge of your box. "Nice saves."

You waved back. "Thanks."

"You haven't changed a bit from Uni," she commented, jogging away. "Reflexes sharp as ever."

"You haven't changed either," you grinned. "Clumsy as ever."

Her head whipped back around indignantly. "Hey!"

-------------

It was strange being a part of your teammates' conversations. It was as if you'd been invisible before the match, and each save slowly made you appear before their eyes. They'd met you with smiles and claps on the back after the game, all too happy to secure a tie in the wake of losing their first two keepers. You could care less about your current teammates, though. The ones who really mattered were your old ones.

"We totally would have won if Chelsea didn't have you," Emily scoffed jokingly, giving you a light push. "You saved their asses."

You pushed her back with a shit-eating grin, lowering your voice. "I'll be saving your asses instead soon enough."

Lotte spit out her water onto Alessia, who shrieked in disgust. "Really?!"You snickered. "Yeah. Don't tell anyone, though."

Alessia pinched her jersey in her fingers, airing it out. "Have you thought about this? The Chelsea fans aren't going to like that at all. Trust me, I know."

"I don't care," you shrugged. "I'll be happy at Arsenal, and I know I'll get playing time."

"Well, we can't wait to see you at Colney," Lotte grinned. "Arsenal red will look great on you."

You grinned back. "I know it will."

[thommi-tomate]

Sometimes it amazes me that people literally give all the attention to the other members of the GNT while completely ignoring Thomas who has been massive for the national team, like man how can you not but admire someone with a career as hard working as Thomas Müller?

With Thomas' near retirement with the national team in mind I would like to review his international career.

Thomas came to the senior national team months before the 2010 World Cup in South Africa to play 2 friendlies, and when the World Cup arrived he was an undisputed starter from the very first moment at only 21 years of age.

In the World Cup, he was a key player, he scored 5 goals and 3 assists making him the winner of the golden boot and the best young player.

In 2014 he was part of one of the most iconic teams in the history of football, again being instrumental in the win that would put the fourth star on the chest, with 5 goals and 3 more assists

Winning the silver ball of the tournament and taking the cup home, the road after that was complicated but he still became the record man of this generation

With 131 caps to his name, he is the third most-capped German player.

Germany's fourth highest goal scorer at World Cups

Sixth German player with the most goals in the history of the German national team

Top assistant in the history of the German national team

With 131 games, 45 goals and 41 assists and over 9000 minutes played (every 105 approx. minutes he made a goal contribution), Thomas owes absolutely nothing to this team, he put his soul, blood and sweat and as he said it already once he did it with love, that watching any of his games you can notice and receive, so put more respect in his name the man is a living legend

And if this is the last time we see each other in an international match, thanks for the love of the game, thanks for your effort, thanks for the happiness and even for the sadness.

Vielen Dank für alles

[verdantwyrm]

Do tell about those Mouthwashing headcanons of yours. I'd like to read them.

You have no idea how long i've been waiting for this [rubs my little hands together] this is going to be EXTREMELY LONG and definitely traces of my own little AU which i've dubbed thee... Afterwashing. Its a bit of everyone dies but everyone also lives. sorta. Curly doesn't end up as fucked as he is, Swansea actually manages to hit Jimmy and sliced directly into his shoulder. Swansea actually got the Cryopods working, and just before everything went to shit he was able to convince Anya to take the others into the cryopods. Still ends up dying but his sacrifice will be known forever:

Pre Crash Curly

- 35 Years old, born December 22nd. Full name is Grant Kirk Curly. Australian British.

- Absolutely a gymrat, bit over the top but he has genuinely the best intentions. He's really big on the aftercare of exercising, hydrating, massages, stretches, it's a fine art to him. A ritual, almost.

- Loves cooking but can only make an assortment of five dishes. Spaghetti, Meatloaf, Risotto, Lasagna and he makes a real mean Stir Fry. It's all very simple food, he doesn't need it to be extravagant. Food is a big love language for him, so when he was forced to go on packet diet for space travel, he cried for six hours.

- Even though he's british, he has roots from Australia. You can still kind of hear it sometimes when he uses his Captain Voice. Daisuke and Anya teased him a little about it.

- He was actually promoted against his will. Originally he was an just apart of the maintenance crew on a larger ship called Sleipnir, it was the second largest delivery freighter right behind Arion which had a crew of three hundred and eighty five people. It was an absolute marvel of machinery, built to deliver other machinery and high tech equipment. When that ship was retired, he was forced into a promotion of Captain, since no one wanted to take the Tulpar and he happened to be around at the time and couldn't bring himself to say no.

- He doesn't have a very distinct taste in music. He will just listen to whatever sounds good. When Anya and Swansea found out they immediately forced him to listen to "real" music and then soon they all made a collaborative playlist which now haunts the Tulpar.

- Curly grew up with a very large family, a middle child of sisters and brothers, he often found himself being told he was lucky to come from such a big, warm family. But the truth is, he found himself ignored alot. His older siblings were well out of school and his younger siblings were too little to stand on their own, so he rarely got any attention and he eventually moved out of home at seventeen to move in with Jimmy, who he became friends with because of their shared loneliness.

- Curly actually had a mullet once, but Swansea forced him to cut it. He said it made him look like a "Hippie" and he couldn't stop laughing. Anya says she liked it, and he regrets cutting it because of that.

- He has met Anya previously on a past delivery years ago, they used to sneak away together to smoke or to complain a little about work. Anya was an intern nurse under the head doctor, Maddie, who was very uptight and constantly cranky. When they met on the Tulpar again, that flame was reignited and it soon developed into a hallway crush that never left the hallway.

- Curly actually knew Swansea for the longest, he was one of the other head mechanics on Slepnir, and they got along really well. Curly is glad to have a familiar face on the ship (Besides Jimmy and Anya) that actually greatly impacted his life and helped him steer towards the topic of his career and his future. He never got to do what he wanted thanks to the sudden promotion, but he's grateful for his teachings nonetheless. Curly wanted to repair and build aircraft for a living, back on earth. He still dreams about it, sometimes.

- Loves Snowboarding, hates Skiing. He also really likes surfing but the hot weather doesn't agree with him.

- To me, he's bisexual but genuinely has no clue. If the circumstances are right he'll sleep with a guy and try really hard to not think too hard about it. It's embarrassing to him especially since he hasn't had much experience sexually or romantically, but he won't say no to a cute guy.

- His relationship with Jimmy has been up and down. When they were teens, Jimmy was just angry and lashed out at people. He had alot of paranoia and used it to fuel his own rage, but he always went on about how guilty he felt and how he hated being angry and how it used to tear him up inside about being exactly like his father. Their relationship was very briefly romantic and then sexual, but that ended quickly after Curly got accepted into pilot academy and started seeing Jimmy less and less. Jimmy resents him for this, Curly isn't even aware of it.

Post Crash Curly

- 39 Years old

- He was rescued from the crypod by a passing ship called Embarr, a small crew of fourty people. It was a medical emergency ship sent out to actually retrieve the dead bodies of another ship, and they happened upon ths Tulpar on a detour due to significant asteroid interference. Jimmy, Anya and Daisuke all miraculously survived, Swansea's body was never found.

- Managed to come out of it pretty unscathed with only the left side of his body being the most damage. He still needed amputations, but only on one arm.

- He was in a coma for three months as his body was slowly defrosted and pumped with all the necessary fluids. An autopsy was performed on him originally thinking he was dead. He was not. And they thankfully realized the mistake before it became life threatening and took them all back to earth to receive the best medical care possible.

- Vegetarian. After being forced to eat his own flesh, he can't stomach meat now. It's too upsetting.

- Still enjoys working out, even if its extremely limited. The moment he was allowed to do any physiotherapy or even walking again, he would push himself constantly, even if it hurt. He had subconsciously made exercise as a way to distract himself from the depression and psychological issues he had, so that being no longer an option really worn him down.

- Curly took up a permanent residence in the hospital after waking up. The doctors have urged him to go and live his life, but he struggles to understand why he would even want to. Developed a serious bout of agoraphobia that prevents him from leaving.

- As soon as he was able, he immediately told Anya and Daisuke the truth, about who crashed the ship and what had happened. Anya is still struggling to accept and understand the truth, but she's coming around slowly.

- He has denied skin grafting and facial reconstruction surgery multiple times now, mainly because he's worried about whats going to happen if he doesn't look like himself anymore or even like what he sees in the mirror. That he won't be able to recognise who he is anymore. He's slowly warming up to it, but very slowly.

- Has a guide dog named Laika, it helps him see and also helps him go outside and overcome his agoraphobia.

- He's learning how to cook again, after the crash. alot of his tastebuds were destroyed from mouthwash and starvation, so he's had to teach his body how food tastes again. He's developed a new love for custard.

- Still thinks about Anya, hopes to rekindle something with her in the future when she's ready.

Pre Crash Anya

- 34 Years old, born April 4th. Full name is Anya Musume, Czech Romanian.

- Her favourite movie is Bambi, she cries everytime it's on. Curly laughs at that but he bursts into tears while watching Brother Bear.

- She likes to knit, kind of sucks at it but she needs something therapeutic.

- She goes through alot of different hobbies and finds it difficult to stay in one place. She also has an infinite knowledge of completely useless facts she likes to bring up randomly, loves learning new things and is very hard to pry away from a good book.

- Also a gymrat, definitely not as much as Curly is but she enjoys jogging alot. Sometimes when she's getting mad cabin (ship?) fever, she will do some laps around the lounge room or hallway outside of utility. She likes to keep active and its become a way for her to think or concentrate, suffers the most from sitting still for too long. She sometimes does stretches with Curly, and he helps her find new ways to exercise or keep active in such a small place.

- Her favourite food of all time is cheeseburgers. Its her number one guilty pleasure and absolutely orders those ridiculously huge ones with seven different layers of fillings. She has a huge appetite and it lowkey scares people simply because of how much she eats in one sitting. She also enjoys a really good french onion soup from time to time, but the onions make her cry uncontrollably.

- Actually wanted to be a paediatrician once. After being denied a consecutive six times, she decided to just do whatever she would qualify to. Became a little depressed with it all, but still applied a two more times just in case. Shortly after being denied an eighth time, Pony Express approached her and it all went from there.

- Bisexual and knows it, probably has something funky going on with all that gender stuff too but she doesn't care too much. Has absolutely slept with girls before, liked it alot. Her first time was with a butch lesbian on the back of her car. She is very confident sexually and physically, she just enjoys wearing sweaters and jackets.

- Doesn't have a very big family. Her parents are divorced and she was forced to raise herself and her little sister. When her little sister turned 18, she got married immediately and left home to be a housewife. This put Anya in a bit of a spin and made her dive into some questionable relationships with some very lazy people.

- She also had a huge crush on Curly, but she would just bury herself in work to avoid thinking about it. She tried to somehow mix the two and get him to open up and try to get him to relax around her, but it never worked. He was always weirdly tense and rigid, despite being happy and smiling, there was something very deep beneath the surface.

Post Crash Anya

- 38 Years old

- Sort of gave up on her dream to be a nurse. She would absolutely love to, but her mental health has declined too drastically to study or even apply again and she has no money to even continue studying. Right now she's working as a librarian, she enjoys the quiet.

- Being put inside the cryopod basically froze her unborn baby, you're not supposed to operate the pods if you're pregnant and because of that she miscarried. She has alot of very mixed thoughts about it all, but is glad nonetheless. Would love to have children of her own someday.

- Still yearns for Curly, doesn't know how to move on, she's not even sure if she wants to move on.

- Her suicidal tendencies are still very present, and she can no longer be trusted around medication. She has to go to the hospital to take it and says hello to Curly everytime she does.

- Sometimes has sleepovers with Daisuke or Curly just to have someone nearby. She misses the constant, constant noise of the ship, and she knows they do as well. Its hard adjusting to silence.

- Wears her glasses more often now, never realized how badly she needed them until now.

- Has alot of self harm tendencies, scratches and peels at her skin as a nervous tic.

- Has a pet cat named Rosa, its a therapy animal to help her relax and calm down, she has really bad OCD and constantly triple checks everything is locked, turned off or on. She gets really ahead of herself and it can be exhausting.

- Still watches movies, brings over brother bear and has a real good cry with Curly sometimes. She's developed a passion for romance movies, it fills a little part of her soul each time. Her favourite is The Notebook. Definitely into some real cheesy stuff but it makes her happy.

Pre Crash Jimmy

- 37 Years old, born January 18th. Full name is James "Jimmy" Zare. American Australian.

- He's a chronic self harmer, littered in burns, cuts, bruises and scars. If smoking or alcohol doesn't take the edge off, he has a tendency to mutilate himself or he drifts endlessly. Before joining PE, he used to dissociate alot and it would never end well. After joining PE he got put on some serious stabilisers and anti-psychotics it switched his hazy, passively suicidal behaviour for a very angry and bitter one. Curly isn't sure if it was for the best.

- He didn't come from the greatest family. His parents were devout Christians. He had two younger sisters, and his mother was pregnant with another. After miscarrying, his parents got divorced because his father believed it was a sign of infidelity or shame, and his mother basically turned into a husk. Unable to speak, unable to take care of herself, completely and utterly empty. So with the added stress of his father dissapearing and then also having to raise himself and his sisters, he's developed a very nasty opinion of women and believes them to be weak and a nuisance. Jimmy was always extremely jealous of Curly's family, and never believed him wheb he said it was also really hard growing up.

- He wanted to be an engineer growing up. He actually bonded with Curly over their shared interests in machinery, and soon it branched from there. They met in highschool but got separated when Curly moved. Years later in a drunken stupor, he found himself miraculously at the doorstep of Curly's new life, and ever since then he's never been able to get rid of Curly.

- Jimmy's favourite animal is Hyena

- Has multiple tattoos that are equally trashy as they are shitty, he almost convinced Curly to get a matching one. Plenty of piercings have been ripped out of his body.

- Jimmy only got into weightlifting because Curly said he would pay for his membership. Jimmy isn't as strong as Curly is, its more the adrenaline that kicks in that keeps him ontop.

- Cut his hair to mimic Curly's but it lacks any real volume so it doesn't look like it.

- Closeted homosexual, open homophobe to himself. Alot of his feelings towards Curly are sexual in a way, but because of his upbringing and relationship examples he thinks this is normal and indulges in them quite often. Would never admit it.

Post Crash Jimmy

- 41 Years old

- Got sentenced to life in prison shortly after Curly regained his ability to speak coherently. Even though alot of the details for the legal case were skewered, Anya and Daisuke both showed up with their own cases to prove Curly's argument and they won.

- Before heading to jail, Jimmy actually got arrested three different times for breaking and entering. He was found trying to steal from his old place, which had new tenants and didn't even have his stuff anymore.

- When he killed himself, he managed to just barely miss all of his very important brain functions. He needs a cane to walk but refuses to use one so he limps a bit. He also has seizures and his schizophrenia has gotten significantly worse. He has a large scar on the side of his face now.

- No longer cuts his hair. It's grown past his shoulders now.

- Curly was able to finally sever ties and no longer speaks to Jimmy. He actually has an automated monthly card come in for Jimmy specifically because he knows it pisses him off. Jimmy's youngest sister visits sometimes.

- Goes by just "James" now.

- Sobered up against his will, got put on new medication that no longer makes him as angry, he's just bitter and cold.

- The blow from Swansea into his shoulder was brutal and it almost completely destroyed his arm, he's been learning how to use it again but struggles to commit.

Pre Crash Daisuke

- 25 Years old, born June 5th. Full name is Junpei Daisuke, Filipino Japanese.

- A bit of a perv but an extremely respectable way. He won't harass girls or make them uncomfortable but if you give him verbal consent that he's allowed to stare he isn't gonna hold back.

- Massive mama's boy. Never wants to admit it because he thinks others will tease him for it.

- He actually really dislikes chocolate, and prefers his sugary treats to be that of candy or gummies. Chocolate makes him sick too quickly. He has a bit of a sensitive stomach to coco.

- Has a belly button piercing, he says he was dared to do it but thats not true. He also has a tattoo that he cannot show anyone. (Its a trampstamp)

- Actually had a huge massive crush on Curly when he first met him. It was really embarrassing, but it mostly comes from jealousy. Curly is so much bigger abd stronger and Daisuke hopes to be like that one day. Extremely sexy and handsome.

- His favourite board game is monopoly because Anya always wins that one. He likes seeing her happy.

- Wanted to be an artist but after hearing about his parents financial troubles he gave up and decided to settle for a blue collar job thar had decent pay. Even though it was his idea, she had to push him to take the job.

- Got expelled from college, half way through he got really depressed and burnt out and kept on skipping classes and not putting any effort in. He also got fired from hos part time job and was forced to move back in with his parents.

- He's an only child and his parents absolutely love each other but there some strain and Daisuke can see it clearly, and it seriously depresses him but he tries to not let it get to his head.

- Pansexual, absolutely is trans in some way but he has a job so he dgaf rn.

- When he first arrived on the Tulpar, he noticed just how utterly depressing it was. So he decided to be the exact opposite of that, putting on a brave smile and attitude to ease himself into the crew. He gets along with Anya and Curly the most.

- Has two cats back at home. Pepper and Donatello, named after his favourite TMNT character.

- He's also a bit of a gym freak but he has no idea what he's doing, very new to real equipment found in gyms as he would always just use whatever was closest or available to him. Curly is teaching him proper techniques.

- Major insomniac but doesn't tell anybody this. Anya has to (metaphorically) choke it out of him so she can help, and he's been slowly adjusting to the medication.

- Has a bunch of really bad habits, drinking especially.

Post Crash Daisuke

- 29 Years old

- He's not allowed to leave the house anymore without running it by his mom. Ever since he returned from the Tulpar she's been dreading the worst happening again, keeps him on a really tight leash out of fear.

- Donatello passed away while he was in space, so in his grieving he got another cat and named it Biggie.

- His parents got divorced finally, the news of what happened had drove his father to the edge and it became too stressful. Daisuke doesn't resent him, and they keep in contact.

- Finally decided to let himself pursue art, Anya is his biggest supporter and she buys all of his paintings. He loves drawing animals the most, finds their complexities to be beautiful.

- let his haie grow out longer, often puts it in a ponytail now.

- He doesn't know what Swansea's sacrifice was, he only knows that somehow he ended up in the Cryopod and that his body was nowhere to be found. and nobody else knows what happened. He misses him a ton, so he paints swans alot. Sometimes Swansea's wife, Meredith, buys them, she comes around to talk to Daisuke and make sure he's doing well.

- He has a part time job now as a dog walker. He walks Swansea's dog almost every day now.

- Also a vegetarian, he's actually why Curly decided to become one. They still work out together but now its mostly him teaching Curly new things.

- Still really depressed and aimless, but he's been put on real medication to help him cope and he's doing much better.

Pre Crash Swansea

- 56 Years old, Born August 10th. Full name is Swansea Manning Heartford, Welsh.

- He actually doesn't like sweets all that much, but its much better than his other options. Coffee makes him sick as well, so sugar is his only vice.

- Has four kids, they're well into their adult years now. Swansea used to be able to call them when they were closer to earth, but that eventually stopped. He also has a brother, but they haven't talked in decades.

- A similar situation as Curly, Swansea got promoted to head engineer of the Tulpar because no one else would take it and he just so happened to be around. He was actually planning on retiring early.

- His wife used to always exclaim how jealous she was of him, to see the stars and everything beyond sounds like a dream. He didn't have the heart to tell her it sucks.

- Daisuke reminded him of not only his kids, but himself in a way. Back when he was younger and didn't have much of a care.

- Cannot punish his kids for the life of him, he's always been too soft and could never bring himself to actually be hard on them. He would get angry again them but then immediately do something to make it up to them because he felt guilty. He started to do this subconsciously with Daisuke and didn't notice until Curly pointed it out.

- Also a really big foodie, sort of cried a little with Curly when they were told about the strict food packet diet. Promises when this shipment is over he'll make the biggest gumbo ever and invite everyone around for it.

- Needs glasses but refuses to wear them.

- Gets along pretty well with Anya, they're not best friends but she's definitely more tolerable than Daisuke is. Neither of them talk that much so they both understand how good silence is, sometimes he'll let her complain and rant about absolutely nothing (Although it usually about Jimmy) because he understands how frustrating it can be. He doesn't provide her with anything or gives pep talks, he just lets her complain in circles.

- Girl dad, he has only daughters so to finally have a son in a way has been a new experience. He struggles to admit it but he is proud of Daisuke, he's just never been very open about his feelings or emotions, especially in his older age

- On the brink of a midlife crisis. Wanted to go mountain climbing.

- Probably gay, bisexual? he doesn't know. Doesn't care. College was weird.

- When it finally came down to it, Swansea was able to just barely convince Anya to go into the cryopods. After finding out what Jimmy had done he decided to put his foot down, his gut was telling him something bad was about to happen, and being able to barge the door to medical down his fears were proven. Right before she was about to OD, he convinced her to take Curly and Daisuke to utility and that it would all be taken care of.

- He was able to really hurt Jimmy, but unfortunately his old age and slight inebriation caught up and he failed to overpower him. Being shot in the eye and then the head, Jimmy thought he was dead. But after being rescued, Swansea's body was never found. Theres multiple theories by others of what happened, but nobody knows the truth.

[coco-loco-nut]

Revelations - Part 3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Summary: a fic focused on the readers career because YOU ARE A QUEEN

a/n: i wrote this before the Newey/RBR break up. i also can’t stop ending my fics with a social media post 😭

requests open masterlist

————————

When Daniel retired from F1, you were ready to pull the plug on your career, but he wouldn’t let you. He saw the passion you still had and didn’t want to extinguish it just because he wasn’t going to have a seat in the race anymore. Instead, he decided to live his best life as a stay-at-home dad while also coaching Florence who was naturally drawn to her dad’s karts.

Your family eventually moved to England, it being the easier move with your job promotion and Florence’s karting. You took the Chief Engineering Officer position after Daniel retired, working closely with the man who taught you so much. Adrian and you were a dynamic duo, the cars you build together are rocket ships. Daniel is an ambassador for Red Bull when he isn’t with Florence at karting competitions. You’ve been teaching Sidney about the mechanics behind karts and the cars, letting him come to work with you to shadow once in a while.

You walk into Christian’s office to remind him about the family dinner tonight, Max already promised to be in attendance with P and Kelly.

“Y/n, mind taking a seat?” Christian asks, you think nothing of it, figuring he just wants an update on the car.

“What’s up? There isn’t much of a progress update yet,” you say, sipping your coffee.

“I’d like to sign Florence into our driver development program. Not just because she is a Ricciardo, but because she has the technical knowledge and the talent. I know someone with Rodin who has a seat open for her in Formula 4,” Christian says and you nod, having gotten a similar offer from Mercedes and Ferrari. You feel pride in your daughter, her hard work and drive being recognized by top programs. It’s extra special because Christian is using his connections to help get her a seat with Daniel’s old F3 team.

“The PR will be tricky to manage, but would you like to tell her at dinner tonight?” you smile, F1 fans already joke about Red Bull being Ricciardo central. Sidney is preparing for his semester finals for Mechanical Engineering and you can’t believe it’s been ten years since they made their first paddock appearance. You negotiate some terms with Christian, the most important being that if she wants to leave the program and go to another, she can.

“We will announce it once she’s signed with the team, I’ll give my person a call,” Christian lets you know before you go to your office. You admire the family photo you took when Florence won the CIK-FIA world championship last month. She’s been dominating British karting all year, Daniel has been working so hard to help her get where she wants to be.

Your day flies by, and before you know it you are all seated in your living room.

“How’s the driver program selection going?” Max asks Christian, genuinely curious.

“I actually made my selection today, Florence, how do you feel about the family legacy?” Christian beams as her face lights up.

“Really? Oh my god, thank you Uncle Christian!” she darts over to him to hug him. “Uncle Maxie, you better watch out,” she grins at Max, who is a Red Bull institution.

“I’ll be very lucky if I am still racing when you get to F1, but I will be happy to coach you,” Max chuckles, knowing he’s pushing the limit of his career.

“No way, that job is reserved for me,” Daniel tells Max who just frowns at his friend for taking away his plan.

A few years later, your whole family is essentially traveling race to race. Sidney is interning with Red Bull, Florence is racing with Rodin in F2, and Daniel is living his best life as a commentator.

“Y/n, let’s grab coffee,” you’ve noticed that Christian tends to say that when he has something important to say.

“What’s wrong?” you cut straight to the chase.

“Max is retiring after this season and I am going to retire as well,” Christian says and a silence falls between you.

“It’s a well deserved retirement for both of you,” you say after a couple seconds.

“I am recommending you for team principal. I also want you to be involved in choosing who is the next driver for the team,” Christian says and you pause.

“I would be honored, that would be huge shoes to fill,” you say after a second.

“You deserve it, you’ve worked your way up from the bottom,” Christian reassures you. In the next month, you signed your contract and got Oliver Bearman to replace Max’s seat.

“You should’ve let me take the seat, Mom,” Florence smiles, you shake your head.

“Not yet, you are a wonderful driver, but I can’t sign you my first year as team principal,” you tell her. Your promotion has been well received among staff and fans. You take the promotion seriously, learning what you don’t know while Christian is still there.

Five years later you walk into testing excitedly. It is a special day for your family.

“Daniel Ricciardo here reporting from the Paddock for testing, let’s see who we can grab,” your husband says, looking towards the entrance where you are walking in. “Y/n Ricciardo, have a second for an interview,” he smiles as you ate into the frame.

“I do, rare for a team principal,” you smile adoringly at your husband, still the young driver getting his shot in your eyes.

“How do you feel going into testing?”

“Great, my engineers and I have worked hard on the car, we are excited to see how it performs against the field,”

“And you have a new driver this year? How is that going?”

“Well so far, as a team we’ve been watching her for years. She’s worked hard with our junior team and we are always excited to bring young talent in. It’s always a tough decision when choosing someone for a seat, but we are confident in our choice,” you say, keeping things professional. The fans watching live are loving the interview, commenting about how your family is acting as if you aren’t a family.

“One last question, your new driver, Florence Ricciardo, is bringing in her own race engineer, Sidney Ricciardo, an engineer who worked for Red Bull Racing in the past. Are there any worries about an unproven race engineer?” Daniel says, the two of you somehow keeping a straight face.

“Obviously we want our drivers to be comfortable with their race engineer. Sidney has been with the team for a while before going to McLaren, so we are excited to welcome him back. Our team has worked with him to familiarize himself with the job, and he will be beside me on pit wall today for that reason,” you explain, a small smile holding back the laughter.

“Thank you for your time, Y/n. Good luck today,” Daniel tells you before you walk off. The video goes viral among F1 fans for the sheer humor of it. Fans also love that Florence and Sidney are following their parent footsteps and career paths.

“That interview was so funny,” Sidney sits beside you in hospitality.

“Thank you, Sid. I may be old but I can still be funny,” you smile at your son. “Are you nervous? I remember how nervous I was on pit wall the first time as your dad’s engineer,” you ask him.

“I am your son, I’ve got it in the bag, plus it’s only Flo,” Sidney says as Florence barges into the room, sitting beside you. Daniel follows behind her, quietly sitting beside her.

“Thanks for basically disowning me on live television, Mom. Oh, hi Dad,” Florence hugs her dad as you all try not to laugh.

“Come on, Flo, it was funny watching Mom and Dad act like we all weren’t related,” Sidney laughs. The social media team takes a picture and posts it on twitter.

twitter

@redbullracing: guys, a bunch of people with the last name Ricciardo are sitting in our hospitality, I guess all but one works for us. Apparently they know each our team principal? Are they related or is this just a weird coincidence?

@y/nricciardo not related to me, just a weird coincidence.

↪️@florencericciardo MOM! STOP DISOWNING ME

↪️@sidneyricciardo no, no, please continue disowning her

↪️@danielricciardo Do you know who these two are, Y/n? I don’t recognize them

↪️@y/nricciardo I’m sorry, do I know a Daniel?

[scotianostra]

Thomas Sean Connery was born in the Fountainbridge area of Edinburgh on 25th August, 1930.

Big Tam, as he was affectionately known around Fountainbridge in his youth, well he was Tommy until his teens, when he shot up in height and stature, at one point he entered a bodybuilding contest, he was 6'2″ at the time, weighed around 14 stone, had a 48-inch chest, 25-inch thigh, and his arms were 15.25 inches.

His first job was as a milkman with the St Cuthbert’s Co-Operative Society in Edinburgh. I would think he would have delivered the milk on a horse drawn carriage, the stables for these horses was in the are he grew up, were in Grove Street, where I used to live the main offices for St Cuthbert’s still stands round the corner on Fountainbridge.

Connery also played football at junior level for Bonnyrigg Rose, my cousin played for them too for several years.

A few more facts about Sean are he has a tattoo on his arm that state “Scotland Forever” he got when he enrolled in the Merchant Navy, he was discharged from that job due to stomach ulcers, between jobs he was a nude model for art students at Edinburgh College of art, again not to far from Fountainbridge. Other jobs he took up were, a lorry driver, a lifeguard at Portobello swimming baths,a labourer and a coffin polisher!

I think it is interesting Connery never strayed far from Fountainbridge in his younger days, indeed when he decided that acting was a career he was going to pursue, it was the nearby Kings Theatre he got a job helping backstage, he was also competing in bodybuilding competitions at this time and while at an event in London he learned that there were auditions being held for South Pacific, he was picked to appear on the chorus line but as the production toured the country he was making his way up the ladder.

By the time it hit Edinburgh he had the part of Marine Cpl Hamilton Steeves and was understudying two of the juvenile leads, and his salary was raised from £12 to £14–10s a week, when the production was reprised the following year he had the lead role on the tour, taking over from the actor Larry Hagman, who played the part in London’s West End.

Connery never looked back from there and of course the role of James Bond catapulted him to international stardom, Ian Fleming though was against him getting the part initially, he said Sean was “unrefined” and not what he had in mind, Sean soon won him over though and Fleming later admitted he was an “ideal” Bond.

A few of the parts Sean either didn’t get or turned down are Gandalf, in the Lord of the Rings series of films, he said he never understood the books and also wasn’t keen on 18 months of filming in New Zealand. He also turned down the chance to play the role of the Architect in The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions. Sean was asked to portray King Edward I in Braveheart, but was too busy working on Another film at the time, Patrick McGoohan took the role instead, I’m sort of glad he never played Longshanks.

His 93rd and last film was 2003’s The League of Extraordinary Gentleman - although he officially retired in 2006, although he was temporarily tempted back to do the voice of Sir Billi in the animated adventure comedy of the same name.

Sir Sean Connery passed away in his sleep on 31st October 2020 at his home in the Bahamas, his son said he had been unwell for some time. The official cause of death was pneumonia, heart failure and old age, his death certificate revealed.

In a career spanning over 50 years, Connery earned an Academy Award, multiple Golden Globes, including the Cecil B. DeMille and Henrietta Awards, as well as two British Academy Film Awards (BAFTA) awards.

I've posted more pics than I normally would, firstly to show that Sean was much more than the first Bond, but also because the Scottish public, had and still have a big connection and love for the big guy.

Sean Connery 25th August 1930 – 31st October 2020.

[itssimplythesims]

Ryan O'Neil

37 ･ Male (He/Him) ･ Gemini ･ Moodboard

Ryan O'Neil grew up an only child in a small suburban home a block from the beach in South Carolina. His mother, Hailey, sold handmade shell jewelry at Myrtle Beach's boardwalk, while his father, Aaron, lived on the road as a sports news anchor trying to make a name for himself. Watching his parents struggle to make ends meet, Ryan worked several jobs in high school, from busboy to oyster shucker to surfing instructor. His junior year, Ryan's father let him tag along to the local fairgrounds where he was covering a major show jumping competition. From the moment Ryan saw the first horse soar over a fence, the boy knew he wanted in–in on the money, in on the parties, in on the fame...

Not a year later, industry veteran, Ana Rosenthal, took him under her wing. Coupled with his raw talent and ambition, Ryan went on to rise up the ranks to the international level. He raked in the money, partied from here to Europe, and ate up the fame, until everything came to a screeching halt with a career-altering accident that left him and his horse hospitalized, right before they were set to enter the 2008 Rio Olympics. Unable to find his footing again, Ryan retired to coaching and opened up his own riding school in Twinbrook, Georgia. Now, nearly a decade later, the man has been handed a second shot at an old dream with a promising horse that could take him all the way to the top. But not all that glitters is gold. As Ryan makes his return to the world of show jumping, he faces old foes, demanding investors, and a new reality–one where he, the man who came from nothing, now has nothing else to lose.