#anyways if you have football questions you can ask me but i may not give the most accurate answers lmaooo

[tartt9]

me deep into google to find out semi accurate stats for jamie it's more likely than you think

[its-time-to-write]

hi my lovely !!

i’m such a big fan of your jamie work and was wondering if you would consider writing about jamie using bantr ??

like she works at richmond and jamie had like a massive light bulb moment when he realised who he’s chatting to but also that he may be are falling in love

totally get if not on your radar !! x

Here you go!! I haven’t written a fic with Bantr yet, so this was fun!!

not saying you’re in love with me 

Dating apps aren’t really your thing. But to be honest, are they anyone’s thing? Or are they like resumes, where everyone just pretends they’re easy and lies about their qualifications?

It doesn’t matter, because you’re on one anyway. 

Keeley Jones (damn her) had hunted you down and practically begged you to sign up for Bantr. 

“Look, you’re young, sweet, and mad fit. Can’t have a bunch of hot footballers in the app and no ladies!”

You had groaned as you put the chicken for today’s lunch in the oven. It’s not easy being Nelson Road’s on-campus chef. There are diet plans to follow, and a million hungry boys all the time. 

It also means you can’t escape Keeley when you’re in the middle of prepping lunch. As soon as it’s served and cleaned up, you can go home. But for now, you’re at her mercy. 

“Keeley, just because I’m the only twenty-something girl on staff here doesn’t mean that I want to date a footballer. Go bother Samantha. She’s what, thirty and goes on dates every weekend? She’s a perfect candidate.”

Keeley pouts. “I’ll set up your whole profile for you. You don’t even have to tell me if you’re talking to someone, just if you like it, yeah? I’ll help you with meals for a week.”

You point your tongs at her. “You will not even think about touching my food for the rest of eternity,” you warn. 

“So you’ll do it, then?” Keeley asks, giving you the full puppy dog expression. 

You consider for a moment. You’re single at the moment, and have been for a good long while. It wouldn’t hurt to be on Bantr and anyway, it’s not like anyone will know who you are. 

“You’re sure it’s anonymous, then?” you ask. 

Keeley jumps up and claps her hands with a squeal. “Totally! Oh my god, I’m so excited for you. I’ll set it up right now. Give me your phone.”

You point to your bag. “It’s in there. Passcode is-”

“Already know it,” Keeley interrupts. You’re not going to question how or why, you just nod and throw your gloves in the trash. 

“Hairnet looks great on you, Keels,” you say conversationally. 

“Fuck you,” she replies, not looking up from your phone. “And- done! You’re ready to start bantering. Ooh, there are a LOT of men nearby! Wonder how many of them are part of AFC Richmond?”

You shoot her a glare, but she just grins. “Put my phone away,” you tell her. 

She slides it back into your bag. “Just promise me you’ll tell me if you like it. I’ll never ask for anything ever again,” she promises. 

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Sure thing.”

—

STRIKE09 has sent you a message

You grab your phone as soon as it lights up. Keeley’s going to be fucking thrilled that you’re enjoying Bantr this much, and that you’ve been chatting with someone for a week. 

You open your phone to your chat. 

STRIKE09: finally off work

STRIKE09: how’s ur day

STRIKE09: burn anything?

BAKERGURL22: that was a one time thing!!

BAKERGURL22: work was fine. got off early so I could try a new recipe at home

BAKERGURL22: hbu?

STRIKE09: not bad. lads stole all my lynx so im going to boots to get more

BAKERGURL22: u really know how to romance a girl

STRIKE09: ah shit yea should probably try harder to impress u

You chuckle. Whoever STRIKE09 is, he’s been impressing you from the first day. Always asking questions about you, but never too invasive. Flirty, but not over the top. You’d set your age range in 20s-30s, so you were relatively confident this wasn’t some old creep. 

Your phone buzzes so you look down again.

STRIKE09: what did u make today?

BAKERGURL22: lemon cupcakes. not very healthy but super delicious

BAKERGURL22: I have to cook all this healthy stuff at work and sometimes I want to unwind and bake something with too much sugar ya know?

STRIKE09: bet theyre mint

BAKERGURL22: no they’re lemon

STRIKE09: oi, we got a comedian

BAKERGURL22: look, I had to make plain chicken and a salad with fucking olive oil as a dressing today

BAKERGURL22: it was so gross. I apologized 2 the staff but like, it’s what they all requested

BAKERGURL22: worried im gonna be banned from cooking ever again

Across Richmond, Jamie Tartt nearly drops his phone in Boots. He knows exactly who the girl on the other end of this conversation is. The question is, do you know who he is?

He’d assume no, based on the way you’ve been cagey about work. Not private enough though, because he remembers you making a face earlier that afternoon as you said, “Sorry this lunch is such shit, but I guess you all probably don’t care. I swear I’m a better cook than this.”

Jamie had smiled and kept moving, but he’d been thinking about your scrunched nose all day and the sweet way you said sorry.

What are the odds that he matched with someone who worked in the same building as him?

Apparently pretty high.

Jamie’s not really present the entire time it takes him to check out. He’s grateful that the combination of his hoodie plus the tired teen checking him out means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone. 

He kicks off his shoes and flops onto the couch as soon as he gets home, trying to figure out what to say. Should he say anything? What if he does and you decide you don’t like him?

He shrugs it off and puts his phone away for the night.

—

You frown at your phone for the hundredth time this morning.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Keeley asks from her position at the coffee pot.

“Haven’t heard back from my Bantr match. It’s really strange. We were talking last night and then he just stopped responding. He at least sends me a good morning message, but I haven’t even gotten that.”

Keeley gives you a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, babes. Ghosting is an epidemic. Have you looked at any of your other matches?”

You shake your head and say, “Nah, I wasn’t really interested in them. I really fucking liked this guy. He was sweet, funny, and so good at flirting. I dunno, maybe it’s easier to be like that because it’s all through a screen, but it felt like we had an actual connection.”

“Well, you don’t have to message anyone else if you don’t want to. You can delete the app altogether.”

You say, “Thanks, Keels,” then go back to chopping vegetables. One bright spot of the day is that lunch will be less shitty than yesterday.

You slide the vegetables in the salad just in time. You hear the familiar rumble of AFC Richmond coming in from the field so you plaster a smile on your face and get ready to pass them their lunch.

—

The rest of the afternoon slides by in a haze. You put an earbud in as you wash the dishes, say goodbye to the office staff, then head out the front door to your car. Someone calls your name and you jump. “Jesus, Jamie.” You turn around to see him push himself off the wall by the door. It looks like he’s been waiting there.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “You headin’ home?”

You say, “Yeah, I only work for part of the day. What are you doing out here?”

Jamie wraps his hands in the front of his shirt and considers what he’s going to say. He’s been thinking about it all morning, and he’s still not sure what the right approach is.

“Look,” he begins hesitantly, “y’know how Keeley’s promoting Bantr?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I been chatting up this girl, like, and she- I dunno, I really like her. I was thinking we could meet in person but I don’t know if she’ll… fucking… want to.”

Christ, he’s stumbling over his words like a goddamn fool.

You raise an eyebrow and say, “Okay..? Are you looking for advice?”

You’re beyond confused right now. This is the longest Jamie has ever talked to you, and certainly the most awkward he’s ever been. Usually he takes his food with a wink and a “Thank, love.” Sometimes he’ll even through in a compliment.

Jamie untucks his hands just to shove them in his pockets. Fuck it.

“I know it’s you,” he says bluntly. You open your mouth to say something, but he keeps talking. “Figured it out last night when we were talking. You made lemon cupcakes yesterday, yeah? You hated lunch yesterday and said sorry for it like a million fucking times. My username is fucking stupid, just my position and number.”

He stops, unsure where to go from here. Meanwhile, your brain is whirring a mile a minute. 

“You’re Strike09,” you say slowly. Jamie nods and you slap your forehead. “Oh god, I was flirting with you! Shit, this is so fucking awkward. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew who you were.”

“No, that’s the thing.” Jamie takes a few steps, closing the distance between you. “Don’t think we would’ve done it if we fuckin’ knew each other. But we did. And we like each other.”

Your head is still in your hand. This is too much. You’re conscious of the fact that you’re still in your hairnet.

You look at him just long enough to ask, “So what’s your point?”

“We should give it a go.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. What’s your actual point?”

Jamie looks at you incredulously as he says, “That is my actual fucking point! I like talking to you! I think you’re fit! I know I’m fit and you like talking to me. I sneaked out of training to talk to you. Told Roy I weren’t feeling well, and he’s gonna send someone to check on me soon so if you have a real reason why we can’t try dating, I want to hear it.”

“I don’t,” you admit. “It’s just a lot to process.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, alright, yeah, sure. Let me know. Um, I have to get back before someone finds me. I’ll see you around.”

“See ya,” you halfheartedly reply. 

You think about Jamie the entire way home. You head straight to the kitchen and mechanically begin pulling out baking supplies. Cooking is fun, but it’s also your job. Baking is how you unwind. You’re halfway through an orange tart when you realize what you’re making. 

“Damn it!” you cry. Fucking Jamie. You smack down your spatula and grab your phone to text Keeley with a request. She responds almost instantly with Jamie’s phone number. 

He picks up on the second ring. 

“You rejecting me over the phone now?” he quips. 

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask. 

“Keeley,” he replies, and you can’t stop a smile from spreading across your face. 

“Same,” you say. “I wanted to tell you that I thought about it, and I want to go out with you. I don’t know when you’re free, but I’m around after 3pm pretty much every night. God, that sounds super lame.”

Jamie laughs. “So if you sent me your address, I could be at yours in…”

“Fifteen minutes,” you supply. 

“Set a timer, babe,” Jamie says. “Bet I can make it in ten.” 

[corroded-hellfire]

Eddie with shy(or autistic doesn't matter)!reader where when they're overwhelmed/don't want to speak they use sign language

This was such a sweet request. I didn’t specify if reader is autistic, shy, has anxiety, or other so that you can fill in those blanks any way you’d like. I hope you enjoy 🧡

Words: 600

Most people don’t understand how it feels when you get overwhelmed. It’s something that happens to everyone, but you react to it in a way that is foreign to a lot of people. Words become hard, speaking seems difficult. When you first met Eddie, it didn’t take him long to catch onto this. For many people, sitting in silence can be awkward. With Eddie, it always felt companionable. Comfortable. It was one of the reasons you started to fall for him. He never made you feel weird or different just for not wanting or being able to talk at times. Oftentimes, Eddie knew when you were feeling anxious or overwhelmed even before you stopped speaking. The first time he communicated with you in sign language, your jaw dropped.

You know how to sign? you’d signed.

Eddie gave you a small smile and had to think for a moment before giving you his response. I’m learning.

Why?

For you.

Tears flooded your eyes and Eddie was immediately concerned. His eyes widened and he stepped towards you, but you just shook your head at him.

It’s just so nice. You’re so sweet.

Eddie practiced his signing for weeks, wanting to perfect one question in particular before asking it. He was aware that he could always ask the question verbally, but he thought the question might overwhelm you and you would move to signing anyway. So, why not just ask the question that way?

The two of you are sitting on the empty bleachers out by the football field when you notice him fidgeting more than usual. As well as Eddie had learned to read you, you’d learned him just as well. 

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Oh, um, yeah,” Eddie answers, giving you a shaky smile. You weren’t buying it, but you weren’t going to push him either. He waves at you, catching your attention as you look back to your book. 

I have a question for you, he signs.

Eddie usually only initiated the signing if he knew you were getting overwhelmed, but you’re clearly fine right now. It confuses you, but you go with it.

What?

You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen Eddie this nervous before. Nerves weren’t really his thing. This is the man who could make a stage out of a table any day or give an impromptu speech in class when he forgot he was supposed to prepare one the night before. 

His fingers twitch before he begins to sign his question. Will you go out on a date with me?

The question takes you completely by surprise. You’d dreamed that Eddie would ask you out, but never once thought it would actually happen. He’s so loud and outgoing, you just assumed he wouldn’t be interested in someone as quiet and reserved as you. Suddenly, it occurs to you that Eddie may not understand what he just asked. He’s fairly new to signing and mistakes are common.

You want to go out with me? On a date?

Yes.

Your heart begins to thud against your ribs and a shy smile curls on your lips.

I would love that.

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to look surprised. Really?

Yes!

Eddie slides himself closer to you on the bench and holds his hand out. Slowly, you reach up and place your hand in his. He wraps his fingers around yours and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Dinner and the bookstore?” Eddie asks, breaking the silence.

“I can’t think of anything better,” you answer.

[manygeese]

ok we’re so back guys (shoutout to @demigod-shenanigans)

Piper and Leo’s Book Club

Piper was lingering near the doors of the library, waiting for a certain best friend of hers to arrive for book club. They’d joined it after the great schedule fiasco, taking weeks to settle on a club to share with each other. At one point, they’d had a conspiracy board laid out in Piper’s bedroom, with a list of clubs, their pros, and cons on it.

YEARBOOK CLUB

PROS: looks good on college applications

CONS: child labor

COOKING CLUB

PROS: for all ye poor souls who have not family and consumer sciences

CONS: Piper has never touched a pan in her life and may spontaneously combust

LGBTQ+ CLUB

PROS: like minded individuals

CONS: we were going to join this anyways and we need something ✨special✨

Finally, they found one they could agree on:

BOOK CLUB

PROS: media literacy!!! hell yeah

CONS: ain’t none (honorable mention: nerdy as fuck)

So there Piper was, at one end of the campus while Leo had to make his way over from the other one, on a hot August day. Piper flipped through the pages of her book, which she had narrowly finished before the meeting, hoping to whatever gods were real that nobody asked her comprehension questions about it. She was barely awake when she had read the last few chapters of it last night.

Two figures turned the corner, making Piper look up from the book to see who it was. She scoffed when she made eye contact with Leo. “Took you long enough!” She yelled, putting her hands up to her mouth to make the sound travel farther (not needed; his eardrums would have burst either way).

“Oh, I’m sorry your highness, I had to haul my ass all the way here from the 100 building. That’s like, 17 miles,” he hollered back.

Jason laughed from where he walked next to Leo. Shucking off one of the backpacks hanging off his shoulder, he handed it to his boyfriend, who hugged it to his chest. Leo leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for carrying it, babe. Have fun at football practice.” Leo fell into his spot beside Piper and waved goodbye as Jason continued walking.

“Bye, Leo. Bye, Pipes.” Jason waved back.

“Bye, Jason,” Piper and Leo said at the same time. “Jinx. Jinx again.”

They squabbled over who had to buy who a soda as they entered the library, lowering their voices to whisper-shouts when they noticed nobody else was nearly as loud.

“Oh, by the way, did you read the book? ‘Cuz I sure as hell didn’t,” Leo drawled, slamming his backpack down on a random table. Piper followed suit.

“You had two whole weeks, man.” Piper eyed him judgingly.

Leo rolled his eyes in a fashion that looked painful. “And those two whole weeks were used to study for my first multicultural literature test, idiot.”

“How does one study for a literature test, hmm? Does one, mayhaps, read?”

“I hope you get Juliet in the play so I can watch you die.”

Piper laughed a little louder than was appropriate. “Ok, but what were you really doing? Because I know for a fact that you never study.”

Leo held his hands up in surrender. “You caught me. I was, like, a quarter into the book yesterday afternoon when Nyssa came in asking for help on a project. She was building a model for her world geo class, something about replicating the Parthenon, so naturally I accepted. I didn’t spend hours listening to Annabeth yap about Greek culture for noth-“

“Hi, Annabeth!” Piper greeted cheerfully, looking between Leo and the girl coming up behind him.

“Did I say yap? I meant expound. Expound elegantly and gracefully, which I am forever grateful for.” Leo turned around quick as a flash, gesturing theatrically with his hands to explain himself.

Annabeth had a smirk on her face as she flopped her book bag down next to theirs. “I’m glad you liked my expounding, Leo.”

“Always, smartypants.” Leo sent a few finger guns her way. She returned them half-heartedly. “Actually, could you take a look at the blueprints? Nyssa was kind of uncertain about the details. Apparently she doesn’t trust me. Tragic.”

“Tragic, indeed.” she said, pulling her reading glasses off of the collar of her forest green sweater. “Let me see.”

~*~

Piper was stuck among various kinds of nerds, she thought with a bored sigh. Annabeth and Leo, obviously, were geeks. Annabeth’s friend Malcolm was so clearly a dweeb. And Piper herself was a dork by proximity.

It was nearing the end of book club, around 3:00. Leo had somehow bullshitted his way into getting others to think he read the book, while Piper and Annabeth had squealed about how cool the premise was. Piper talked about the sustained metaphors, Annabeth rambled about the imagery, Leo tried to derail the conversation to discuss what happened in his fifth period, Annabeth shushed him, Piper shushed him, Malcolm shushed him, Leo grumbled under his breath about them being no fun, so on and so forth.

The librarian shooed them out of the library at 3:05, fretting about a meeting of the school committee of something or other in 10 minutes. Piper and Leo gladly left the premises, with Annabeth heading out to study with Malcolm at Town Center.

“I’m gonna go watch the football practice. I think Hazel’s there, too, should be fun if you want to tag along,” Leo offered, already walking backwards towards the football field. He swung his backpack back and forth, having not yet put it on.

Clang, said the support pillar that Leo ran into.

“You should really stop walking backwards,” Piper stated after she stopped laughing. Leo rubbed at the back of his head, giving her a glare.

“Fuck you. I meant it when I said I want to watch you die.”

Piper pulled out her phone and opened her text messages. “Sorry, my dad’s already here for pickup. Have fun watching your himbo boyfriend work out, you sap,” she spat as she ran out to the parking lot.

“I’ll tell him you said that!”

[player1064]

Hi! All such great carraville drabbles so far! If you’re still doing them, may I request them coming out publicly and the various reactions of news broadcasters, other ex/current footballers and of course, the internet. Thanks!

aaa thank you!!! and yessss I love fics where it's public reaction to stuff and i LOVE multi-media type fics so this was fun to write (even though i am much too lazy to come up with fake twitter usernames)

---

Group: MU mob

Phillip: forwarded an instagram post by gneville2 Phillip: ???

Gary: what Gary: do u think I was too nice to him in the caption Gary: I can edit it to add something about scousers maybe Gary: or how he never won the league

Phillip: you and Carragher???

Gary: ?

Paul: whyd u make me look at that rot first thing in the morning Paul: put me off my breakfast that did

Ryan: im not installing instagram for this whats he done now

Nicky: ^

Phillip: he’s dating Carragher?????

Ryan: where have u been for the last 2 years its literally all he talks about

Phillip: America! I have been! In! America! Phillip: Gaz I can’t believe you told them and not me?

Paul: I wish he hadnt told us to be fair Paul: they r so annoying

Gary: sorry phil I mustve forgot Gary: timezones etc Gary: gtg we’re having breakfast before he has to head to studio 🥞😍

David: nice post Gary 😊🏳️‍🌈 Happy for you x

Chat: Stevie G

Missed call from Stevie

Stevie: Carra

Missed call from Stevie

Stevie: Jamie Lee Duncan Carragher Stevie: pick up your damn phone Stevie: you are shit at this best friend thing yknow Stevie: also Gary Neville??? Stevie: you were moaning about him when I called you just last week Stevie: but if he makes you happy that’s alright then Stevie: tell him he’s buying me a pint next time I’m home Stevie: in liverpool mind Stevie: don’t care if you love him you won’t see me in pub in manchester

The Daily Mail

LIVERPOOL AND MAN UTD LEGENDS JAMIE CARRAGHER AND GARY NEVILLE REVEAL GAY RELATIONSHIP?

Former rivals turned co-pundits posted Valentine’s day messages on their Instagram accounts which appear to show an intimate relationship between the two men, who were both married to women for over ten years. Neither has responded for comment.

Comments:

> they’re the worst pundits on sky anyway they don’t even try to hide the bias for their teams

> gary neville’s always trying to bring politics into everything rishi was right he should stick to football!

> well I will be getting my commentary from MOTD moving forward. wish I could cancel sky sports but can’t afford to miss all the match coverage so they will be getting a strongly worded letter from me instead.

The Guardian

OPINION: IT’S 2024. WHY HAS THE FOOTBALL WORLD NOT CAUGHT UP?

There are still no openly gay players in the top tier of the men’s game. Now that two retired premier league footballers have come out, we have to ask: why is this headline news?

Both Liverpool and Manchester United football clubs have posted messages in support of Neville & Carragher, and so have many current and former players. But it begs the question why they thought that support might not be implicit, or why the two pundits had to publicly “come out” at all.

Comments:

> tbh I didn’t even know who they were until I saw Beckham’s ig story 💀

> surprised Gerrard’s not said anything, thought he and Carragher were mates >>> probably can’t if he wants to keep his manager contract $$$

> the guardian: why is the media making a fuss about two ex-footballers coming out? the guardian: is part of the media making a fuss about two ex-footballers coming out…

Twitter

Sports - Trending Gary Neville 264k tweets

Jamie Carragher 151k tweets

@.1111 they’ve been obsessed with each other for years is anyone really surprised

@.222 ngl I thought Gary Neville was already out as gay? You’re telling me people have believed he’s straight this whole time??

@.333 it’s giving slow burn enemies to lovers 150k words…

@.444 sky already wheels the two of them out together whenever they need to promote ANYTHING I bet it’s gonna get 10x worse now

Chat: J ❤️

G 👹👸: good luck on show tonight G 👹👸: no vday dinner :( G 👹👸: I shall have to waste away and pine instead G 👹👸: drown my sorrows etc

J ❤️: should be back to hotel by 1 at the latest J ❤️: I know that’s past ur bedtime old man so don’t wait up

G 👹👸: I will be up (😉😉) and ready to give you your dessert 😘 G 👹👸: might have a cheeky nap before though to be fair

[bellascool]

IDIOT

masterlist

request on my profile

posted : 13/02/23 (European date)

He knew you had trusting issues but he still did it.

long ass chapter, 3400 words so put yourself il a confortable position

edit 10/04 (European date) : wanted to change Bella to Y/n as I saw people didn't like it but it was way too long so I'll keep Bella for that story, sorry again enjoy !

You were currently in french class listening to your boring teacher talking about how you have to "conjuguer au plus-que-parfait un verbe tout en utilisant une proposition subordonnée relative"

Thankfully, your family came from France and talked to you in french at home which made your french classes way easier.

You sighed and started doing your exercises, not paying attention to the group of boys who were talking about you right behind your seat.

You were used to people talking about you for no reason at all.

You finished your exercises and since there was 30 mins until the class end, you decided to sleep on your desk.

-

You opened your eyes after someone gently rubbed your shoulder making you lift your head to see who was the kind soul who didn't let you sleep there.

"Désolé je t'ai réveillée mais le cours il est fini depuis 10 minutes et le bureau il est pas confortable si je me trompe pas. (hey I'm sorry for waking you up but the class ended 10 minutes ago and the desk isn't comfortable, is it?)" the guy said putting a hand on his neck

It was Kylian, a guy from your class. He plays for the national France football team and was really good to be honest.

"Ah ouais j'ai pas vu le temps passer merci. (oh yeah I didn't pay attention to the time thanks)" you said back putting my backpack on your shoulders

"Je savais pas que tu parlais couramment français tiens (I didn't know that you could speak french fluently)" he stated next to you while you two were heading to the rooms of our university

"Kylian tu m'as littéralement parlé français après m'avoir réveillée (Kylian you literally spoke to me in french after waking me up)" you chuckled at how lost he was

"Ah ouais merde j'suis con (Oh yeah shit I'm dumb)" he laughed while putting his hand on his forehead realizing how dumb his question was

"I prefer speaking english tho" you switched languages which made him look at you with a 'girl what' face

"Why? French is a beautiful language too"

You sighed, he didn't knew why you denied my french side after all.

"Let's just say I have my reasons" you stopped in front of your room door, now facing each other "anyway thanks for waking me, have a wonderful night" you mumbled before entering your room, about to close the door

"Bella wait!" he blocked it with his foot making you open it again "I enjoyed your company, can I uh.. maybe have your number please?" he looked down probably embarrassed

"Oh yeah sure, give me your phone" he smiled while handing me what you asked, you put on your phone number and gave it back to him

"Merci! See you tomorrow!" he finally turned around and left

Did Kylian Mbappé, THE Kylian Mbappé just ask for MY number?

You thought that to yourself, screaming in your head.

He was a pretty boy but your trust issues had to break the moment.

You had several issues with trusting people after your past relationship and it clearly was annoying for you to always have to be careful with everyone.

You sighed and went to your bathroom to take a hot shower.

-

After doing your night routine, you laid down on your bed and took your phone, now noticing that you received messages.

Hey it's Kylian :)

Hii, what's up?

I was actually walking outside and saw a bakery, and you know what they were selling?

hmmm idk maybe bread?

Bella..

Okay okay sorry tell me

Macarons!

Oh

What? Macarons are great and it's french, our country!

If you say so lol

I was wondering if you would like to come eat some macarons with me tomorrow after school?

You stared at your phone with your heart pounding on your chest.

AAAARRGHHHHHHHH

Sure! I would love that :)

Nice! I was kinda scared to ask tbh

Why? I should be the one scared of what you would ask!

Hey!

You talked for hours, getting to know each other and without even realizing, you put my trust in him.

You now believed that he was a nice person.

Kylian I'm going to sleep, I'm tiredddd

You're leaving me alone? :(

Yes shut up

Mean.

Anyways, good night! <3

Good night ma belle :)

You smiled at the name he gave you, it meant "beautiful" in french and you loved it.

You went to sleep with a smile on your face, imagining scenarios with the french boy.

-

You woke up feeling better than any other day.

You've made a new friend, he's Kylian fucking Mbappé and he invited YOU to go eat macarons with him.

You got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to get ready.

After getting your hair, outfit and makeup done, you grabbed your backpack and went to your first class, which was maths.

Oh you absolutely hated maths. You understood but it was so damn annoying.

You entered the class and sat on your usual desk, grabbing your stuff.

The class was about to begin but Kylian still wasn't seen, his friends were there but not him.

You didn't really pay attention, focusing on your work.

The math teacher started his class when the door swung open, revealing a breathless Kylian.

"Mister Mbappe, you are late !" your teacher said annoyed

"I'm sorry, I had training this morning!" he apologized, heading to the seat next to you

"I'll let it pass this time but you better find another excuse next time!" the man said before continuing his boring class

Kylian took a pen and pretended to pay attention when he didn't

"Are you going to not say hi or??" he whispered turning his head to see your face

"You're so dramatic, hi Kylian, did you sleep well?" you sarcastically whispered back

"Hi Bella, actually no."

"You didn't get your goodnight kiss? Want me to give you one next time?" you took a childish tone to make fun of him

"Actually yeah, I would love that"

Your eyes widened a bit unlike your cheeks who were flaming hot now, he probably noticed it since he started laughing

"No but seriously, you're still down for the macarons right?" he asked after calming down

"Of course!"

"Good, now I have a reason to be excited to finish school" he mumbled thinking you didn't hear but you did and it made you smile

The rest of the day passed really fast to be honest you didn't even notice that english, your last period, was over.

You happily packed your things and got out of the university, waiting for Kylian.

He kept teasing you all day which made you appreciate his company even more.

After 5 mins, you saw him walking towards you, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his face.

"Finally, I thought you would never come" I said while rolling my eyes

"Sorry, I had to give my homework to Mr.Julien, you know he hates when we give it late" he apologized

"All good, let's go I'm craving some macarons right now." you said before grabbing his wrist and walking

"Bella you don't know where the bakery is." he laughed while you were getting red, embarrassed

You let his wrist go but he didn't appreciate it so he gently grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers which made your heart go crazy in your chest

You walked to the bakery who was 10 mins away while talking and mostly making fun of your teachers, you laughed so much that you didn't notice you were arrived.

You entered the small bakery and headed to the counter.

"Hi, welcome to Petites Gourmandises, what can I get for you?" a lady asked with a smile on her face

"Hello, we'll take 15 macarons please!" Kylian said next to you, still holding your hand

"15 macarons for the cutest couple!" she said while putting them in a small box, you felt your cheeks getting red and Kylian chuckled at the nickname

"We're just friends!" you said laughing too

"Oh honey, friends don't hold each other's hands and friends don't look at each other as if they were about to kiss in a minute!"

Okay now you were really really embarrassed and Kylian not saying anything made it even worse.

You tried to take your hand off of his but he wasn't going to let you do that and held it even tighter now.

"Your total will be 30.99 please!"

You took out your wallet but he grabbed it from your hands and put it in his pocket.

"Bella, when you're with me you'll never ever pay" he said while scanning his credit card

"But-"

"Don't start." He cut you off

"There you go, have a wonderful day!" the lady said while handing you the box

"Thanks, you too!" you both said before going to a table, you sat face to face which means you stopped holding hands

"You know, I'm glad we became friends" he started while opening the small box

"Me too, I always thought you were like narcissistic and the kind of person to act superior because they're famous or something" I said before stuffing a strawberry macaron in my mouth, they're so good oh my!

Kylian dramatically gasped, putting a hand on his chest as if he was hurt

"How dare you?" he gasped

"Kylian you're acting like a bitch right now" you were laughing so hard at his manners

"Says the one who thought I was narcissistic!" he said in a bitchy tone making you laugh even harder as he joined you

After some minutes of laughing, you both took a calm mood again, smiling at each other

"Bella I have something to ask you" he started with a serious face

"What is it?"

"Why do you keep denying your french side"

You sighed knowing that one day he would have to ask the question.

"It's not easy to say, y'know" you were playing with your fingers, you always do that when you're stressed

"I don't specially want to talk about it in public to be honest" you said as you felt tears filling up your eyes as you remembered the reason

"Let's go to my room then" he proposed

"I-" you took a deep breath "okay fine let's go"

The way back to the campus was silent and it was better like that. It wasn't even uncomfortable.

You both made your way to his dorm room and he opened the door, revealing his little space.

It was nice, you were actually expecting something really fancy since he had the money but looks like he wasn't that type of person.

He sat down on his bed and you did the same, looking at the ground.

"So.. If you didn't knew already I grew up in France. I had a loving family y'know, I was an only child but I was never bored, my parents would take me anywhere I wanted to go" you smiled at the thought of your perfect little family "but like we say, nothing ever lasts forever. My mother started to be less and less present at home, my father believed that she just worked more so it didn't really matter." you paused, not wanting to cry in front of him

He must've felt that since he slowly took your hand, holding it tightly.

"He later found out that she actually was seeing another man, but the only man turned into multiple. He went crazy the night he found out. I was 9 but still scared of what I heard. He insulted her, calling her names and he started hitting her. I tried to do something but I was still a little girl and couldn't do much" a tear slipped from your eye and you felt a knot forming in your throat

That's when he wrapped his arms around you, gently stroking your hair

"You don't have to tell me, if you feel uncomfortable you can stop" He slowly said as you tried to calm down

"It's fine, you'll have to know one day" you held him tightly and continued "He beat her until she was unconscious, blood all over her probably dead body. When he realized what he's done, he couldn't let me there because he thought I would call the police." you did your best to stop the knot but it kept growing "he grabbed a vase and hit my head with it. He kept hitting until I feel unconscious too. If my neighbor didn't hear screaming, I would've probably died too. That night, I lost my mother and my father." That was when you couldn't keep talking, you had so much more to say but you just couldn't speak

Kylian just hugged you, slowly kissing your head as he felt his shoulder getting wet from your tears.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't knew, I promise I'll stay with you until you feel better" he whispered against your hair, making you smile

You were glad that he knew what was going on.

-

You were doing your makeup, preparing for your date with the french boy.

A week has passed since you told him and since then, he didn't leave you and made you feel better like he promised.

He invited you to go watch a football match, he knew damn well that you loved football but never had the opportunity to go watch a match.

You smiled as you left your room, he said he would join you in the entrance of the stadium so you just called an uber.

-

You were now searching for Kylian, there was a lot of people and him being a celebrity doesn't make it easier.

You suddenly felt someone grab your shoulder which made you turn around to be met by a familiar gaze.

"Kylian now why the fuck are you wearing a cap with a mask and sunglasses?" you asked confused

"I don't want people to ruin our moment" he said before you both headed to your seats

The match began 5 minutes later and you could feel him being strange

"Is everything alright?" you asked watching him worried

"Bella I know this isn't the perfect moment but I.. I think I fell in love with you" he said turning his head to see your face, he had taken off his sunglasses so you could watch his eyes

"Oh." was all you managed to say

"Oh I'm so sorry I shouldn't have said that" he started to apologize but you cut him off by pressing your lips against his, making him smile

You pulled out for air as he lightly smiled

"Shut up I like you too" you joked making him chuckle

"I'm glad then" he said before taking your hand in his, intertwining your fingers

You kept cheering for the team until it was halftime. Kylian received a text but you couldn't see what it was

"I'm sorry I have to use the bathroom real quick" he apologized before heading there

Okay there was definitely something going on.

You trusted your instinct and followed him, hiding behind a wall as he was with his friends from the university.

"Enfin (finally)!" one of them yelled

"Bien joué mec t'as gagné ton pari (Well done man, you won the bet)"

"Ça a pris du temps à la faire tomber amoureuse hein (it took time to make her fall in love huh)" his friend joked punching his shoulder

"Ouais je sais mais vous me devez tous 200 balles maintenant (yeah I know but you all owe me 200$ now)" Kylian said while laughing

"Ouais ouais ta gueule t'es millionnaire (yeah yeah shut up you're a millionaire" they all laughed

"N'empêche elle t'aime vraiment hein, t'as vu elle t'a raconté quoi? Sur sa famille (I mean she really likes you huh, did you see what she told you? About her family)"

Your heart skipped a beat, he told them?

"Je sais mec, j'étais trop gêné quand elle a pleuré (I know dude, I was so embarrassed when she cried)" damn. "mais au final je pense- (but in the end I think-)" you cut him off by throwing him your soda making all of them turn around

"Un pari, donc j'étais un pari pour toi. (A bet, so I was a bet for you)" you laughed, realizing how dumb you were for believing that a guy like him would ever love you

"Attends c'est pas ce que tu penses- (Wait it's not what you think it is)" he tried to explain as his friends laughed

"L'écoute pas, c'est carrément ce que tu penses, il s'est bien foutu de ta gueule (Don't listen to him, that's exactly what you think it is, he used you)" his friend said while laughing making you realize that it's sad

"Regardez moi je m'appelle Bella et mes parents sont morts sous mes yeux ouin ouin je suis traumatisée (Look at me my name is Bella and my parents died in front of me, I'm so traumatized)" his other friend mocked you, making your eyes fill up with tears

"Les écoute pas, je te promets je peux tout expliquer! (Don't listen to them, I promise I can explain)" Kylian tried to apologize but you just shook your head

"Tu sais quoi c'est bon, c'est ma faute d'avoir pensé une seule seconde qu'un mec comme toi pouvait s'intéresser à moi. En tout cas félicitations, t'as gagné ton pari, j'espère que t'es content pour tes 2 balles en plus sur tes millions. (You know what, all good. It's my fault, I shouldn't have believed one second that a guy like you could ever be interested in me. Congratulations, you won your bet, I hope you're happy to gain 2 dollars amongst your millions)" you turned around and mixed to the crowd, hoping he wouldn't find you

Tears running down your cheeks as you left the stadium, leaving pieces of your broken heart there.

You felt so dumb for believing in it but that was your fault for trusting him so fast.

You ran to the campus, it was 10 mins away, the plain moon enlightening the cold city.

You arrived to your dorm room and slammed the door behind you before collapsing on your bed, tears flowing your face.

You felt so embarrassed.

You didn't even wanted to go to school but you had to and you knew it.

You didn't even notice that you fell asleep.

-

The day ended, Kylian didn't even come to school but his friends did and made fun of you all day.

You didn't even pay attention to them. It was useless.

You headed to the dorms but bumped into someone, you almost fell but the same person grabbed your arm, helping you not to fall.

"Thank you I didn't see-" you started but immediately stopped when you saw who was standing in front of you

"Oh." was all you said before pulling off and walking past him

"Bella attends! (Bella wait!)" Kylian started, trying to grab your wrist but you managed to avoid it

"Commences pas (don't start)" you opened the door of your room but he still followed you

"2 minutes. Laisses moi 2 minutes pour tout expliquer. (2 minutes. Leave me 2 minutes to explain everything)" he said begging making you sigh

"Dépêche toi. (hurry up)"

"Oui, au début c'était un pari. C'est vrai. Mais je te promets je suis vraiment tombé amoureux de toi, je t'en supplie crois moi si je le pouvais je retournerais en arrière pour refuser ce pari à la con et je serais venu vers toi parce que t'es vraiment une personne géniale. (Yes, at first it was a bet. That's true. But I promise I really fell in love with you, please believe me if I could I would go back and decline the stupid bet and I would've came to friend you because you're really an amazing person)" you couldn't even look at him in the eyes

"Si t'es vraiment sincère, tu m'expliques comment ils ont su pour mes parents? (if you're really honest, could you explain how they find out about my parents?)" you asked, crossing your arms on your chest

"Y'avait Mathieu dans ma salle de bain mais je te jure je le savais pas et quand je l'ai découvert c'était en même temps que toi, hier et je peux t'assurer qu'ils se moqueront plus de toi. (Mathieu was hiding in my bathroom but I swear I didn't knew and when I found out, it was yesterday with you and I can assure you that they won't make fun of you anymore.)" he told you as he grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to look at him in the eyes

"Je sais pas Kylian, tu m'as vraiment blessée (I don't know Kylian, you really hurt me)" you said with teary eyes

"Et je recommencerai plus jamais, une seule chance. C'est tout ce que je demande. (And I'll never do that again, one last chance. That's all I'm asking)" he slightly smiled making you join him

You slowly leaned over and your lips connected in a passionate kiss.

You deserved to be loved too and he did.

You pulled out and put your forehead against his with your eyes closed.

"T'es vraiment un idiot. (you're really a dumbass)" you chuckled

After all, a boy like him could love a girl like you.

[azulera]

The Experiment

Pairing: Emile Smith Rowe x Black Reader

Summary: Emile's kisses require scientific investigation.

Notes: Scavenged this out of my drafts in honor of u21s winning euros 🎉 if only the 1st team could do the same, anyways can u tell how badly i wanna give ESR a k*ss … my yardie … arsepool is real

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the first kiss, in the morning, his lips were still tingly, and you could taste the traces of cool mint toothpaste. He’d rolled from bed before you, up early for treatment, which may have sabotaged things from the start.

“You changed it?”

“Changed what?” He asked from the wardrobe, pulling his training kit top overhead.

“The toothpaste. It was cinnamon before, now it’s mint.”

“We were runnin out.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t mean to wake you. Be back around three later.”

You nodded, trying to shake the sleep from your body. “I probably won’t get out from the lab until six. So may I have another kiss, please? A proper one.”

“Needy girl” Emile tutted, but leaned down to meet you anyway, trying not to smile. You held on, turning his one soft peck into two more, and then holding your mouth to his, muffling his sound of surprise.

“I’ve gotta go, bab— baby, mm–”

“I know, just one — more.” You pulled back, with a deep sigh and Emile’s hand somehow tangled in the back of your sleep scarf. “There. Have a good day.”

When he stepped out the door, gently touching his mouth, you flopped back down on the bed. Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you opened the notes app, and typed away.

~~~

The drive from the lab to Colney was a quick one, and you caught Emile just before lunch finished. He sat in the passenger seat with a smoothie in hand and questions in his eyes.

“What? I wanted to see you. Ain’t that allowed?”

His face was still frost-bitten from the cold, and his lips were redder than ever as they split around a smirk.

“Yeah. Just weren’t expecting you, is all.”

“Well, here I am. How’s the day going?”

You turned toward him in the seat, tuned in as he began the story of how he'd nutmegged Bukayo twice in the same rondo and then got him again later during five aside. You wrapped a hand behind the back of his neck, rubbing into the tendons as he mentioned his lack of playing time, and the frustrating conversations he’d had with the coaching staff concerning it. The hand moved around to cup his chin, thumb moving over his bottom lip when he’d finished speaking.

“Your lips are still so cold, Emi. Let me warm them up.”

“What?” You had leaned over the center console, bringing your other hand to catch along his cheek. “What do you mean?”

“I’m saying can I kiss you?”

“I mean,” Emile licked his lips, eyes darting around the empty training lot. “I mean, yeah.”

You grinned and leaned in, bringing your mouths together gently. A few brushes of tongue later, things were not so gentle, and you hummed when his hands came to grip around your waist, pulling you towards his lap.

“Hold on, this is mad,” He breathed. “Feel like I’m back in year 11.”

“You were snogging girls in the car in year 11?”

“Nah, no,” He kissed your cheek once, fingers still pressed into your hip. “Never. Was straight on football.”

“Right, whatever you say.” You had released him, and settled back into your seat. “How much time until you need to be back?”

“Like 15 minutes. But under 18s will be on that field right there in like five.”

“Okay,” You snuck one more kiss to the corner of his mouth, then revisited the notes app, while Emile checked his cheeks for lip gloss marks, and tried to regulate his breathing. “Tell me about the nutmeg again?”

~~~

By the time Emile disentangled himself from the final kiss, the fifth of the last five minutes, the twentieth of the day, he had developed some concerns. But they didn’t stop his chest from thumping, or blood from spreading warm through his veins, coloring his cheeks a rose tint that matched his lips. He licked over them once, and your eyes tracked the movement.

“Are you alright, babes? You’re mad … affectionate, today.”

“What you mean?” You questioned, halfhearted, already arcing back in towards his mouth. The wood of the dining chair creaked beneath your combined weight, finished dinner plates catching the overhead light.

“It’s just—“ He took a deep breath, trying to repress the tingles shooting down his spine from your nails along his collarbone. “You been sort of – all over me, innit. All day.”

“It’s a problem, then?” You frowned, your chests still pressed together, and noticing your own face was hot, around your ears and down through to your chest.

“Nah! No! Not at all, I’m just,” You pressed your lips to a spot just under his ear, and then his chin. “I was just sayin. An observation, you know.”

“Well, if you must know, it’s–” Your mind whirred, searching for some explanation beyond ‘I’m kind of obsessed with your lips’ or ‘I might be addicted to kissing you’. “It’s for science. Yeah, it’s all purely empirical. Wanted to know … when the best time to kiss you is– in the morning, afternoon, or night.”

You trailed a line of them along his jaw while you spoke, and felt him shiver.

“For science” he echoed, distracted but thinking back through the events of the day, and your generally nerdy tendencies, and saw how it made sense.

He didn’t, however, answer beyond that, as he was caught up again in the warm slide of your mouth. When he could, he cursed, and let out a shaky breath.

“S’like an experiment, innit.”

“Precisely.”

“So what’s the results?”

“Huh?” You asked, thoughts gone hazy, and bordering on annoyed at the continued gap between your mouth and his.

“The results of your experiment. When’s the best time?”

“Oh, um …” You bit your lip, not wanting to break the heated embrace to find your phone. The answer was simple anyway - all the day’s data pointed to one conclusion. “All the time. It’s always a good time to kiss you.”

Emile laughed, blushing an even darker pink, and sliding his hands up your thighs, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But what do you think?”

He met your eyes, his baby blues full of amusement, and love, and something more. Then he stood up from the chair, carrying you along with him.

“Think I’ve got an idea for experiment number two.”

[darkmacadamien]

Whumptober 2023, No. 3: Journal

It begins innocuously enough, with an offhanded suggestion from Dr. Sharon.

“You may benefit from keeping a journal,” she tells him, after a particularly grueling session that leaves Jamie discretely wiping the corners of his eyes every time Dr. Sharon glances down to jot something down in her notebook.

“What, like a diary or something?” Jamie asks.

The idea isn’t totally repulsive (unless Jamie thinks about what his dad would say about keeping a journal, which just makes him sick to his stomach), but Jamie can’t remember the last time he’d picked up a pen to do anything other than sign his name. Besides, Jamie had never been any good with words.

“It can be,” Dr. Sharon concedes. “Or it could be a sketchbook, if you like to draw. Other people use it to save newspaper clippings, or to press flowers, or even to just write down their grocery lists.”

“Ok,” Jamie says, “but, like. What if I do it wrong?”

Dr. Sharon, in her infinite patience and wisdom, doesn’t seem fazed by his question. “It’s different for each person. As long as you enjoy doing it, you can’t do it wrong.”

“Huh,” Jamie says, picking at the hem of his shirt. “I’ll think about it,” he promises her.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

And Jamie does— think about it, that is. He doesn’t go out of his way or anything, but one day, while he’s out shopping, he sees a neat little stack of moleskin journals shoved back in the corner of one of those stores that sells everything under the sun.

He picks one up and runs his fingers along the smooth leather cover. The texture is nice, and he likes that the pages inside don’t have any lines, so he doesn’t feel pressured to write neat and proper, and it’s discrete enough that if his dad dropped by unexpectedly he wouldn’t be suspicious of it, so Jamie drops it in his cart and buys it.

Jamie will probably forget about it, anyway, until he finds it again in a year or two shoved in a desk somewhere, and he decides it’ll make a great Secret Santa gift since he understands how that works now.

Jamie doesn’t forget about it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The journal sits on his kitchen counter, taunting him each time he sits down to eat breakfast.

It’s just… Jamie has no fucking idea what to write about. He knows that Dr. Sharon said it’s different for everyone, or whatever, but Jamie can’t even work up enough courage to put a fucking pen to paper, which is just so ridiculous, like.

He plays football in stadiums filled with thousands of people, but he can’t write about his fucking day without having a nervous breakdown about it. Fuck.

Jamie finally manages to write his name on the first page, which fucking ruins the re-gifting value of the stupid thing ‘cause now Jamie’s staked a claim on it, but fuck it: a win is a fucking win.

The journal still remains on his counter, though, unwritten in other than his name.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Then Jamie’s dad gives him a call, and suddenly, he has something to write about.

Jamie hadn’t even answered the phone, but then he went and listened to the voicemail like an idiot. It hadn’t even been that bad, as far as messages from his dad go.

“Hey, junior,” his dad had started, even though Jamie hates it when his dad calls him that. “I see you still don’t know how that phone works. Or maybe you do! Oh, what am I saying— you’re some big-shot football player now, of course, you don’t have time for your old man.”

His dad had laughed then, sharp and guttural in the way that means he doesn’t find it even a little funny. “Only kidding, only kidding— anyways, I was just calling to let you know that I caught your last match on the telly the other day. Let me tell you, son, sometimes I wonder whether you actually do know how to play football—”

And then he’d gone off, drunken ramblings about how Jamie might as well up and fucking quit if he ain’t gonna take the sport seriously until eventually the beep that indicates time cuts him off midsentence.

His dad doesn’t even mention anything specifically, which means he probably hadn’t watched the game at all and had just wanted to call so he could bitch, and, on top of that, it’s the same old stuff Jamie’s been hearing since his dad started coming around in the first place, when Jamie was still young and hopeful with grass-stained knees and a desperate desire to please.

It fucks with him anyways; leaves him staring at the wall for a couple of minutes after the recording clicks off, his ears ringing like his dad had been there in person to tell him off.

Jamie deletes the voicemail, feeling like that one Greek guy who was cursed to do the same thing over and over and over again, and then that stupid fucking journal catches his eye.

Like those shitty magic tricks that make kids cry instead of laugh, he has a stroke of inspiration.

It takes him a moment to find a pen, ‘cause who owns a pen in this day and age, but when he does, he splits open the journal until the spine cracks, and then he’s off like a shot.

Jamie ends up writing four pages before he finally runs out of steam, his handwriting coming out clunky and too big and crooked from misuse.

He’s not sure if he likes the way it leaves him feeling, like there’s an anvil sitting on his chest, but he decides to carry the journal around a little more often that way if he ever has another desire to jot down his thoughts, he has it on hand.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

He gets the urge to write in his journal three more times that week. Once, after training, when Roy had ripped into him a little more than usual. Then again, while he’s out clubbing with the lads and he catches a whiff of his dad’s favorite beer. And then finally, when he’s looking through articles of himself online, and he finds a gossip rag trashing his hair, the fucking Philistines.

Each time, it leaves him feeling heavy and tired, with a seemingly endless pit in his stomach that sends bile bubbling up his throat.

“I’m definitely doing it wrong,” he tells Dr. Sharon during their next session.

Dr. Sharon raises her eyebrows inquisitively, so Jamie digs his journal out of his cross-body bag and hands it over. Dr. Sharon flicks through the pages carefully, eyes flicking over his writing in that freaky-fast way that would make Jamie think she wasn’t actually reading it if he didn’t already know she was dead smart.

“It’s like, every time I finish writing about something, I just feel so awful. Like, worse than I did before I wrote anything.”

Dr. Sharon hums in acknowledgment. “I notice you tend to write about negative experiences with other people,” she says.

“Yeah, ‘cause I feel like I actually have something to talk about, you know? But then it just feels like I shouldn’t be writing bad about people behind their backs, like. And then I feel bad ‘cause I’m doing it anyway.”

“Would you say that the emotion you’re feeling is guilt?” Dr. Sharon asks.

Jamie snaps his fingers. “Exactly! And since it’s making me feel so bad, I just thought maybe it’s not helping me like it’s s’posed to.”

“That’s very insightful, Jamie,” she praises him. “Have you considered writing about things that make you happy instead?”

“Huh,” Jamie says. The thought hadn’t occurred to him.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

So, Jamie gives that an honest try, too. He writes about when he has a particularly good day at training, or about how he’s always wanted a dog when he sees one during his morning jog, or about how much he loves his mummy.

Then he branches off a little, remembering Dr. Sharon’s point that journals can be used for literally anything, and adds a newspaper article about Sam’s restaurant, and then some magazine cutouts from Keeley’s latest modeling gig, and then the note that Ted had left him after the Manchester City game.

Jamie goes to watch a movie with Isaac and Colin and saves the ticket, gluing it next to a wrapper from a butterscotch candy he’d gotten from Higgins. Roy brings him takeout one day after Jamie scores a hat trick, so Jamie snags the receipt while Roy isn’t looking and adds that to his journal too.

Jamie dedicates an entire two-page spread to a detailed stick-figure drawing of him and Dani playing pick-up, which nearly brings Dani to tears when he shows him.

“Jamie Tartt,” Dani says, his voice all choked up, “this is beautiful. You must let me take a photograph.”

Jamie does him one better and draws another, which does end up bringing Dani to tears, and when he’s done weeping and hugging the daylights out of Jamie, he hangs it up in his locker.

So, Jamie writes in his journal, and he cries on his journal, and he spills over-priced coffee on his journal. He decorates it with tacky glitter, and stickers, and any little odds and ends that strike his fancy.

He makes other people write in his journal, too, like Ted, who leaves him with a ten-page anecdote that Jamie doesn’t really get, but it makes him feel nice anyway, and Beard, who leaves a freakishly detailed self-portrait in red Sharpie, and Nate, who carries it around for an entire day to map out plays.

Jamie even manages to get Roy to contribute, who grumbles about it but takes it home anyway and gives it to Phoebe to sketch in (though Roy does end up leaving a surprisingly heartfelt note on the bottom of the very last page). Keeley uses a page to plan out an entire month of brand deals, and in a fit of unorthodox creativity, Ms. Welton makes a collage of all of Richard Mannion’s worst photos, which makes Jamie laugh because he never liked the prick anyway.

When he’s in Manchester again, he tracks down his mummy, who writes about Jamie when he was a sexy little baby, and Simon, who neatly records his best recipe for lemon tarts (Jamie’s favorite).

Jamie’s journal slowly becomes filled with little pieces of all the people he loves, until one day, he’s waiting for the ink to dry on the final page, with the journal so full he can hardly close it with the elastic band along the side.

Jamie cries a little bit, ‘cause it’d been quite a long journey with the stupid thing, hadn’t it, but then the lads get him another as a Secret Santa gift, so he gets to start the whole thing over again.

[tutyayilmazz]

"The true legends are totally casual"

They're young, they're smart, and they're from Rome: A conversation with Måneskin, one of the world's most successful rock bands Interview: Giovanni di Lorenzo

Måneskin for Zeit Magazin. paywalled but you can access it like this 🤫 i google and deepl translated it and fixed some sentences as much as i could but i'm far from being able to judge the accuracy of it all so there may be mistakes. anyway, the full article is under the cut, i highly recommend it, it goes quite into depth!

When they play concerts in the USA, they wrap themselves in the Italian flag. But they wouldn't do that at home in Rome: Måneskin, one of the most successful rock bands in the world. Band members Damiano David, Victoria De Angelis, Ethan Torchio and Thomas Raggi share why Mick Jagger knows who they are and how they take a stand without specifically talking about politics.

ZEITmagazin: When you are on tour abroad, talking to people, giving interviews - are people surprised that a young rock band that is successful all over the world comes from Italy?

Thomas Raggi: Always! At first everyone is amazed, there are a bunch of questions, some are very clever and interested and revolve around cultural differences. Other questions are just plain stupid: "Can you put pineapple on pizza?" There were such questions in America, for example.

Victoria De Angelis: But that's wearing off, everyone now knows that we're Italians. But somehow they are still surprised.

Ethan Torchio: Maybe also because nobody expected this kind of music from Italy. Often, however, we are so busy with our thing that we don't really notice how we are perceived from the outside. And actually our origin and the value of our music have nothing to do with each other. Values ​​are not tied to anything.

ZEITmagazin: In Germany music from Italy is associated with Gianna Nannini, Zucchero, Eros Ramazzotti beyond the hits. Many Italy lovers are familiar with Paolo Conte. But Lucio Battisti is not known here at all. His music is like the soundtrack of entire decades of life in Italy. Today, a quarter of a century after his death, it is still played daily on the radio. Can you relate to Battisti?

Damiano David: It's a long time ago, but that doesn't make it any less great, it's timeless. Of course he's light years away from our music, the complete opposite, but he's still fascinating for us.

ZEITmagazin: Why can music like that of Lucio Battisti stand the test of time?

Damiano: Because it captures something of its time, or rather: because it manages to be the expression of a break in time, to mark a turning point that many people may not understand until years later.

ZEITmagazin: If we stay with the image of Italy abroad, I would like to ask a question that I am often confronted with myself and which unfortunately usually leaves me quite at a loss: how is it possible that such a lovely country as Italy is governed by a post-fascist party together with a man like Silvio Berlusconi, who has committed serious crimes and only recently promised his football club AC Monza a minibus full of prostitutes if they beat big teams, and a Matteo Salvini, who delights in the idea of sending ​​refugees back again in the boat.

Damiano: For me there are two main reasons. For one thing, Italy has a short historical memory. We have forgotten the last right-wing government, we have forgotten what happened. Second, there's this vintage nostalgia: Everything that's old is beautiful. Cooking like in the old days, going on vacation like in the old days, the music of yesteryear...

ZEITmagazin: Does that also apply to fascism?

Ethan: In fact, there are still people who claim that everything was better in wartime. Totally crazy! I believe this latent glorification of the good old days has made neo-fascism socially acceptable.

Victoria: In my opinion, it also has a lot to do with ignorance. The bad thing is that the parties are counting on people's ignorance, their backwardness or their religious attitudes. And now we have a government that is committed to discrimination. Voting behavior is also to blame for this. A lot of people didn't vote at all. 40 percent of young people between 18 and 25 did not vote. That's a hell of a lot!

ZEITmagazin: Why is that?

Thomas: If I want a certain party to win or lose, I go to the polls. But when I don't have the itch and don't feel like getting up from my comfortable sofa to stand in line at some polling station, then this is how an election result happens. Almost everyone in the LGBTQ scene went to the polls and voted against Meloni because there is something at stake for these people. They know they are in literal danger, not just mentally but physically. But a lot of people who don't have a particular concern say to themselves: My voice won't change anything anyway.

ZEITmagazin: After Giorgia Meloni's election success in September, you, Damiano, posted: This is a sad day for my country...

Damiano: They slammed me for that. Both on social networks and on the radio.

ZEITmagazin: Italy used to be very leftist and had the largest communist party in Western Europe. Why has the left lost so much of its appeal ?

Thomas: It's difficult for us to judge. We have only experienced the last five years in a politically conscious manner. When you're thirteen or fourteen, you don't understand anything. That is why our political perspective is very limited. It is not for us to pass judgment on the decline of a political idea. What we have noticed to some extent are broken promises and this very disappointment that your own voice doesn't make a difference.

ZEITmagazin: Do you never hear, for example from your record label, that you should hold back on political issues?

Damiano: We found a pretty good balance because we never talk about specific politics. The four of us don't always agree politically. And we don't want to be political opinion makers or moralizers. We are talking about things that we understand go beyond any political discussion: we are against the war in Ukraine, we are against discrimination against minorities. Human rights are inviolable.

ZEITmagazin: Was Damiano's "Fuck Putin" spontaneous at the end of a concert at California's Coachella Festival, or did you talk about it beforehand?

Victory: That was spontaneous.

ZEITmagazin: But then you all bear the responsibility.

Victoria: Of course. If there is an attitude that should be taken for granted worldwide, then we position ourselves clearly and unequivocally. There should be agreement on this, regardless of whether I am on the right, left or whatever.

ZEITmagazin: Does the Catholic Church still have great influence in Italy today?

All: (ironic, in unison) No! What!

Victoria: It just acts more cleverly and makes less of an appearance.

ZEITmagazin: Under pressure from the church, the state broadcaster RAI in Italy did not play John Lennon's song "Imagine" in the early 1970s because it contains the lines "Imagine there's no heaven ... And no religion, too". These words were enough. In comparison, the influence of the church has become very small.

Victoria: But unfortunately it's still very big. Many people hold to the values ​​of the church. When our posters were to be put up in Rome , the church gave us difficulties. In the photo I was seen with my eyes rolled, you only saw the whites, that was too demonic for them. That's why we were banned from posting posters near the Vatican.

ZEITmagazin: But if that's true, then isn't that actually advertising for you?

Thomas: No. We hadn't told anyone that yet. You can now advertise for us. (laughs)

ZEITmagazin: When it comes to other topics, on the other hand, people are more relaxed in Italy than in America, for example: when Victoria lost her top at the MTV Awards and you could see her breasts, the pictures were immediately hidden. Something like that would be unthinkable in Italy, wouldn't it?

Damiano: In Italy we are more relaxed about nudity, less so about other things. In America, nudity is totally taboo. But you see guns everywhere.

Victoria: And you're not allowed to say swear words, they'll be censored immediately.

Damiano: When Victoria's nipple was censored, there had been a performance before us with all phallic symbols, but apparently that wasn't a problem. Male genitals are fine, females are not.

ZEITmagazin: Were you an outsider at school with your attitude, your hair, your outfits?

Ethan: Yes, we were different, we stood out, we experimented with our looks. I was quite the oddball at my school, wasn't bullied, but was the oddball compared to the others who all dressed alike. That is still the case today. They all look the same.

Damiano: It's about just not attracting attention, being as basic as possible , that's what we call it. The difference can only be determined by the price: You have exactly the same shoes as the others, but in the limited edition, which costs six times more.

ZEITmagazin: And at the same time, tolerance for deviations has decreased?

Ethan: Tolerance is a very sore point. You tell yourself that society is totally open, that the mentality has changed, because nowadays it sounds silly to say that I'm being laughed at because of my clothes. But in reality it's still the same. When I was little, that bothered me. In Italy it is much more extreme than in other countries. Here people are very conservative in many things, being different is perceived as threatening or wrong.

ZEITmagazin: Young men with long hair, for example?

Ethan: Totally. For me it was a filter to understand which people I can get involved with and which ones I would rather avoid. A lot of people have asked me: Why do you have long hair? I answered: Because I think it's beautiful. But you're a boy. So what? Yes, but it makes you look like a girl. That got on my nerves, but fortunately I didn't let it affect me. Nevertheless, I felt like an outsider and therefore discriminated against.

Damiano: If you read the comments and criticisms from Italy that we get on Facebook, for example, eighty percent of them are about our looks. As soon as we post a photo in which one of us shows a bit of skin or is dressed oddly, the comments rain down. It's damn sad to see the concentrated anger of these people putting others down. Why do you care how I dress? Why does it bother you when I'm at peace with myself and post a photo?

ZEITmagazin: Does that also apply to your lyrics?

Damiano: Yes, but paradoxically it's more about our looks. A lot of people don't even listen to our lyrics. They see the photos and hate it.

ZEITmagazin: Is it actually true that only one of you finished school and the others have thrown themselves into music?

Thomas: Actually we all jumped into the music. I graduated from high school, but that was something personal. We all made the same decision: we like it, it's going well, so we're going to give it our all.

ZEITmagazin: Even when you were not yet successful?

Thomas: Yes! Above all, Victoria's decision for music was very important as an impulse. We thought, if she dares, then we dare too.

ZEITmagazin: Did your parents agree?

Ethan: Agreed not. But they understood straight away that this is really important to us. So they gave us more freedom than most teenagers our age would have had. Of course, the school thing went against the grain for them. But they let us do it and believed in us.

ZEITmagazin: You, Damiano, allegedly only worked properly for a month in your life, and that must have been terrible.

Damiano: That was longer than a month. I was on the road as a representative for all kinds of wellness products, going door-to-door. The product range was broad - from cosmetics to mattresses. Our highlights were a coffee maker and a water filter, they cost a fortune, absolutely crazy. When I stood in front of people's doors, I felt like a thief. We got this gigantic nonsense drummed into our heads that we should tell them so they would pay 400 euros for a pillow. I was pretty good at it. But it was awful. I worked from June to September, in the hottest summer I was in a suit from morning to night and had to ride the subway from one end to the other, bathed in sweat.

ZEITmagazin: Did this time bring you anything that you benefit from today?

Damiano: You learn to face an audience, to interact with people, even if you annoy them. And you learn something for life: respect, discipline, punctuality. You learn to belong to a team and to subordinate yourself. You learn to be dependable even when you're totally exhausted: there are people working with you, so don't let them down.

ZEITmagazin: There is a difference between Italy and Germany that, for once, is not a cliché: in Germany children leave home as soon as possible after school, in Italy many are still living with their parents at 35. Why is that?

Victoria: I think about that quite often. In Denmark it is similar to Germany. However, young people there also have many more opportunities. In Italy, they're not just starved from an artistic point of view. There is hardly any support from the state, studying in Italy is very demanding: the requirements are high, there is no time for part-time work, and if you do not receive state aid or earn money on the side, it is practically impossible to leave home.

ZEITmagazin: So it's purely financial reasons?

Victoria: I think it also has something to do with our culture. In my circle of friends there are many parents who are very attached to their children and believe that they have to protect them and keep them at home as long as possible. It's different in other countries, in Denmark your parents kick you out when you're eighteen. Parents who say: Go away! – that is completely unimaginable in Italy. Here it says: No, but you are my child, stay with me, I will take care of you.

Damiano: Family is very important in Italy, but our generation would give anything to get away from home. They can't stand their parents anymore - with all their love. But they don't have the means. For example, I come from a perfectly normal family, we lack nothing, but for my older brother, who works and has a good job, it would be completely impossible at the moment to move out of our parents' house. I, on the other hand, was extremely lucky and was able to leave home early.

ZEITmagazin: You are all in their early twenties. Do any of you still live at home?

Ethan: We actually all fled.

Thomas: I'm still living with my parents at the moment, but I'll be taking the big step soon.

Damiano: But you were already living alone and thought it was stupid!

Thomas: I had this apartment in Trastevere, but it was six months at the most, that doesn't count. I wasn't really away from home at all, didn't have to take responsibility. Now something completely different is going on.

ZEITmagazin: Have you already confessed to your parents?

Thomas: Yes, and they didn't think it was that bad anymore.

ZEITmagazin: In Germany there is this saying: pinch me. Haven't the past few years been a bit unbelievable for you too?

Damiano: And how, every day! When we performed at the Circo Massimo last summer, and that too in Rome, in our city, I asked them to shine light at the audience because we don't see much on stage. Seventy thousand spectators - it was a sea of ​​people!

ZEITmagazin: In 2021, just a few months after winning the Eurovision Song Contest , you were the opening act for the Rolling Stones. You met Mick Jagger. How was he?

Victoria: Super cool.

Ethan: As you imagine him. Fully energized, enthusiastic. With that typical voice.

ZEITmagazin: Did he know who you are?

Damiano: Yes, he was fully aware. He had prepared. Keith Richards on the other hand was quite honest: I have no idea who you are, but I see the guitar, the drums – great, very good, keep it up. Ciao.

ZEITmagazin: At a Metallica concert, two of you - Victoria and Thomas - were said to be seen dancing enthusiastically in front of the stage like normal fans.

Thomas: Right! But we've already seen them in Rome. And in Milan. Before we met her, we were ardent fans.

ZEITmagazin: Would you say that the real artists stay approachable?

Damiano: Yes, by and large.

Victoria: But it's noticeable that today's superstars, especially the young ones, puff themselves up a lot. The true legends, on the other hand, are totally nonchalant, sitting in your studio and chatting for hours without making a fuss.

ZEITmagazin: Almost all old musicians say that what they did when they were young, they can no longer do today - if only because they are no longer politically correct.

Victoria: No, that wouldn't work anymore. Many of those who wrote rock history were totally crazy or permanently high.

Damiano: In the past, when you were crazy and stoned and doing crass stuff, people only noticed if you were a celebrity. Today, any no-name can pump themselves up on drugs, hop out the window, and go viral with it. Anyone can play rock star. Everyone wants to be important and nothing has meaning anymore.

ZEITmagazin: You smashed two instruments in Las Vegas, a classic rock gesture for which you were heavily criticized... Måneskin thinks that today's superstars, especially the young ones, would puff themselves up a lot.

Damiano: For us it was a way of celebrating the last concert. We enjoyed the moment, we didn't care what the social networks say about it.

Thomas: We used extra crappy instruments. I'm not going to smash a five-thousand-euro guitar! Do you think we're so stupid or what! That's what pissed me off the most. But you have to grown up and not give a shit.

Victoria: I find it hypocritical to accuse us of vandalizing instruments. When fireworks fly with other bands, no one says: A hundred thousand euros were blown away.

ZEITmagazin: Is there any of the old rock stars that you would like to meet?

Thomas: Jimmy Page.

Victoria: David Bowie. Unfortunately, that's not possible. So maybe Patti Smith.

Damiano: Me Paul McCartney.

Ethan: I almost said so too. But also Bono.

ZEITmagazin: What would you like to ask them?

Damiano: You always hear these stories from great bands, many of which, at least I think, are simply made up: They played this guitar riff – and boom, the song was there! But that's never how it works. I'd like to be told how it really was, firsthand. According to the motto: The story is a fairy tale, in reality it was very different...

ZEITmagazin: And how about you? It is said that the song "Zitti e buoni", which became your breakthrough, was so successful with young people in particular because it was an outcry against the Covid restrictions. Is that right?

Thomas: That's not completely out of thin air. In fact, Zitti e buoni was an expression of our anger at the time. We are so happy that people recognized themselves in it and made the song an anthem for their own causes. Of course, he was not only referring to the Covid situation, nor did he intend to call for a rebellion against the rules in force at the time.

ZEITmagazin: Is it true that you wrapped yourself in an Italian flag at a concert in the USA?

Damiano: That was probably me, because the audience throws everything at me and I'm the only one with my hands free.

ZEITmagazin: Unlike in Italy or America, in Germany this would be interpreted as a patriotic, if not right-wing, gesture.

Damiano: When we play in Rome, I wouldn't think of putting an Italian flag around my neck. But we are on tour in America, and there I show the flag to say: I am an Italian in the world.

ZEITmagazin: Was there a bit of pride involved?

Thomas: Of course, yes! That is celebrated.

Damiano: The more I see of the world, the more I'm convinced that Italy is the most beautiful country in the world, mistakes or not. Nothing to do.

Victoria: Italy is a wonderful country with great people. It cannot be compared to any other country. And it hurts that there are so many people who want to ruin it with their shit mentality. That's why we try to get a positive message across, to mess with it and change the attitude of these people.

ZEITmagazin: My favorite song of yours is "Vent'anni". It says: "I am afraid that I will only leave money in the world." Is that really a fear at your age?

Damiano: Less a fear than the awareness that this shouldn't happen. This sentence means that I not only want to leave the world what I have earned, but also create something that will stand the test of time, something that touches people's innermost being.

Thomas: We spoke earlier about Lucio Battisti. He and also Vasco Rossi, another great Italian singer, will never die.

Damiano: Because they've influenced generations, who in turn influence their children. This is the legacy that counts and that you want to leave behind.

[allylikethecat]

I might have missed it but did you ever explain your complicated feelings towards Taylor/why you’ve come to outgrow her? I only ask because I feel like your reasons may be very similar to mine, and it’s nice to have some validation.

Hi! Yes, I kinda went on an over dramatic ramble about it back in February lol The link to that ask / post can be found HERE. I mean, I am still excited to listen to her new album, and I still enjoy her music, just between her current public image and the fanbase, it's not to the extent it once was and the feelings sometimes get complicated. Which I attribute to her being the "sound track to my childhood" and feeling like that is now "over" which has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me lol

(Even though, I am 28, my friend group is ages 25-36 and if any of them were licking a mans face in public like that I would be giving them so much shit for being so cringy lol like we're adults y'all love each other, great no one needs that much PDA)

I am ALSO a huge sports girlie and I love football SO MUCH and I have hated Travis Kelce for so very long 😭 Like there are so many more attractive BETTER football players why that one BUT as long as she's happy that's what matters and what she does, does not affect me, I just will be streaming the album on spotify instead of buying a million variations like I used too because I have no desire to own them all anymore lol I don't mean any harm to any fans of hers and truly think that it's awesome what she has accomplished, I'm just not as big of a fan as I once was and the feelings are complicated and make me sad sometimes. I also don't want to be starting any thing or causing any drama, these are just my PERSONAL feelings and PERSONAL opinions based on how I previously parasocially related her to my own life and now no longer do. It is also me being a football fan and hating the Chiefs. The 49ers were robbed of that super bowl win by shitty reffing because the Chiefs winning was the narrative the NFL wanted and I will be forever be angry about that. The 49ers were the superior team and this is coming from a PATS FAN.

Anyway, I hope this answered your question and validated how you were feeling! If you ever want to chat more my DMs are always open! I do however want to try and keep my blog a positive space (unless we wanna shit talk sports teams we don't like because also FUCK THE HABS EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE KINDA FUCKED THEMSELVES FOR ME AND ARE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE DIVISION WHERE THEY BELONG) I hope your Monday is going well and that you have a great week!

❤️Ally

[nemiepaezgavira]

Loving Your Everything

Chapter 3

"Can you LEAVE?!!", The guy in the bed stated, asserting his need for me to leave, a little too harshly.

"I thought you were here for your friend? What are you doing, getting into other people's room, miss?", The nurse questioned. I felt the cold sweat dripping down my forehead. What WAS I doing there?

"You said Will was in room 403 so..", My voice trailed off, nervousness and anxiety rushing through me, as I felt all the eyes on me.

"This is 408, and you need to LEAVE, unless you want me to press charges for Assault and BATTERY", The Bed Guy shouted, his eyes closing, as he winced in pain, each time the nurse unwound the bandage on his wound.

I pursed my  lips in humiliation, picked up my bag and walked out of the room, mentally cursing my mind for wandering enough, to not even see which room I was getting into . "Hey, wait!", I heard, as I was walking down the corridor. I didn't want to create any more hassle so instead of turning around like a normal person, I kept on walking. The guy came up to me and held out my phone. "You forgot this", He said. My face grew a deep shade of red in embarrassment, as I took the phone, apologizing profusely. "Don't apologize, it happens sometimes", he said, somehow comforting me , "I'm Pedri".

"I'm so sorry for not holding the elevator earlier, I did press the hold button but it just moved you know, I'm so sorry, and that thing with the room, I was just thinking a lot of things  and was in a haze so....you know...I'm sorry"

"It's fine, we're good on that, everyone has those days and anyway the elevator does malfunction sometimes, I understand", He laughed.

"Your friend didn't think it was fine", I mumbled, remembering his angry face.

"Nah, he was just in a bad mood, he's a good person, it's just that his injury has got him out of the field for so long, that he's gone a little loose with his head and has a hard time socializing"

"Field..?", I asked

"You don't know us?", He asked, looking surprised.

I blinked. My brain was ticking. Pedri..Pedri...Pedri..Pedri...and it hit me. The football player. I flushed in embarrassment yet again, when my brain finally processed everything, I'd just met Gavi and was standing in front of Pedri. I'd been a huge Barca fan, and the fact that I'd totally ignored someone like Pedri, felt like an insult to my Blaugrana soul.

However, I had all the blood I'd witnessed that day, a friend's blood, to blame for my scrambled brain.

"I'm so sorry", I gushed, my cheeks feeling hot, not from humiliation  but the adrenaline rush I was suddenly experiencing. " I'm such a HUGE Culer, I simply don't know how I missed you..., but well, I've been really busy today so that may be one reason but oh my God, I love you all so much, I can't explain how I'm feeling".

Pedri seemed to be enjoying the attention because he was smiling ear to ear and I could feel his eyes grow brighter as they looked into mine.

"It's fine, it happens sometimes", He laughed,"So, should we exchange numbers?".

 I blushed, wanting to die.... wanting to do a whole victory dance. Pedri Gonzalez wanted MY number. My Number. I could feel my heart beating fast, as I unlocked my phone and handed it to him. The pure euphoria of those 15 seconds that I spent, standing next to Pedri, were the moments I never wanted to have to end. He quickly typed in his number before typing mine into his. "I didn't get your name", He said, looking up from his phone, his thumb hovering over the keypad. "Evelyn, Evie, keep it Evie", I mumble, feeling feverish. It all seemed like a dream and suddenly, an awkward nightmare too.

I was standing so close to a celebrity, covered in blood, smelling like sweat and blood, looking like a mess with my dirty clothes and disgustingly tangled hair. I was kicking myself for not being more careful with my appearance.

"I'll see you around, Evie", Pedri said, giving me a quick smile before walking off, leaving me, with my heart feeling like it'd just run a marathon.

[tavtarnish]

So I was looking at soap's wiki page and it says that he visited his cousin in the SAS many times and also tried to join under aged a few times, right? Well it doesn't say why, tho. And any normal person would assume that he wanted to join so bad because of his cousin. But im not normal so I got to thinking.well even if he did join just because of that cousin, that doesn't explain why whe tried to join early. Multiple times. So obviously there is atleast another factor in this situation. And we've all established his thing for hating himself, just a bit, and he's definitely not a straight man. And well homosexual and military down exactly sound like a the most delicious martini. And I'm not exactly caught up on Scotland's ally status, nor have I found much info about his family. So what if this was his way of self punishment for being a gay man?

But, El, what if he didn't realize his sexuality until aftet he joined? Or his family was supportive? An excellent question. If it wasn't that maybe it was because he had no direction in life. Perhaps he felt lost. Academics maybe weren't his strong suit, or he burnt out at somepoint, so college (university?) Wasn't an option. Maybe his parents said either higher education or a job, right?(yes I'm heavily projecting onto this poor man, I'm sorry but you also can't stop me) In today's day and age it is becoming increasingly difficult to find a job without a college degree. And jobs like that can always be unstable or underpaid or overworked, understaffed, unnecessarily dangerous, and a multitude of other things. But the military? Well you know what you're signing up for, you really only have to do as your told and no more, and you can do alot of good. Plus he already has a cousin in there.

Or maybe its as simple as his family has/had money issued and the military gives good pay?

Also apparently I left a comment on the latest chapter of I.S.B.T.P.K.F.T.S and I don't remember lol. Also I promise the next part of my favorite moments is coming out. I've been very busy lately. Sorry for the long ask

I've had SO many thoughts about Soap joining the military ESPECIALLY the fact he tried to join at 16 but was refused. You are allowed to join the military at 16 with parental consent, so I've come to the conclusion that his parents wouldn't like the fact that he wanted to be in the military - this tracks considering many Scots who see them self separate from Brits aren't typically the biggest fans of joining UK collective things like the military (this is coming from my Irish bg so it could be different).

As to why he wanted to join, I think there are multiple reasons, but if his queerness is a reason I would think its less to do with punishing himself (though sometimes it may feel like a punishment being around Ghost when Soap wants him so badly) and more to do with him possibly avoiding telling his family. Scotland as a whole recently is quite up there in ally status but that 1) doesn't reflect how the 2000's/2010's were 2) doesn't mean everyone is an ally ofc. Anyway, the MacTavishes aren't homophobic in any regard but that doesn't mean Soap knows that or isn't scared (either bc he's never seen his family react to queer people irl or, if he has, he'll think he'll be an exception).

Other causes likely are due to his school career: he was a footballer, but I don't think he ever tried to go pro, and in ISBTPKFTS the backstory I've given him wouldn't allow him to (W.C status and home life). And you make a great point with burnout - if we're sticking to real rules of the army, he wouldn't be able to be medicated or have lesson plan adjustments for his ADHD if he's diagnosed (i think I read that somewhere) so he's either not diagnosed or he never had accommodations so burnout is very likely. Uni, of course, would seem like a horrible thing for him, even if he was like many ppl who go to uni for the experience or bc of the job market.

But the idea that his parents expecting him to get a job or go to uni is very real (dw I'm also projecting here) and the monotonous work/life balance sounded like hell. Knowing his cousin's life in the army definitely planted the seed, and I think (in the fic at least) he'd visit his cousin to get some free time away from home but it ends up convincing him of what he wanted to do with his life. Like you said, you know what you sign up for with the army. He probably didn't expect the RSD to follow him especially if he isn't diagnosed, or if he's not very clued up on that part of his ADHD,hence why he can't rationalise his own feelings when they start to overwhelm him

Also dont be sorry and there's no rush I love that you even want to make those posts in the first place!! Thank you

[our-future-is-up-to-us-2]

sprinkled moondust

Fic number 11 (and my longest one yet, HOORAY!) @narcosfandomdiscord

Prompt #5, Book Of Negative Spaces: Fanwork using a line from a diff show/movie as a prompt. 

The line in question: "Do you still like my hair?" from The Queen's Gambit 

Word Count: 4.1K (don't ask how I did that)

Relationships: Trent Crimm & Ted Lasso, Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso (very much leaning into that, thank you <33), Trent Crimm & Trent Crimm's Daughter, Ted Lasso & Trent Crimm's Daughter

Warnings: Canon compliant mention + description of a panic attack

A/N: I absolutely adored writing this fic... My first time exploring Tedependent in that 'something more' vein and I took a lot of liberties to what felt right for me! Just wanted to delve into Season 1, considering that I've just finished it <3

The progression in episodes as the snippets go on is as follows:

Episode 1 - Pilot

Episode 3 - Trent Crimm: The Independent

Episode 5 - Tan Lines

Episode 7 - Make Rebecca Great Again

Episode 8 - The Diamond Dogs

Episode 9 - All Apologies / Canon Divergence

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

When Ted first meets Trent, he notices a few things. 

One, he’s a journalist, in a crowd, amongst all the others. 

Two, he’s attentive. That much is clear when they lock eyes, and Trent straightens up, armed and ready for whatever is to come. 

Three, he’s got very nice glasses, two-toned, easily blending in with his face. 

Four, there’s something quite alluring about his hair… 

But if Ted Lasso, the new manager of AFC Richmond, has to give a compliment of any kind, giving it to the glasses is much nicer than to his hair. At least, it makes him seem… More approachable? Less creepy? 

Yeah, that’ll do it. 

He can hardly think of his words since he’s so sleep-deprived, and the cameras flash fast, and the water he drinks is full of fizz (absolutely abhorrent!) and all he wants to do is run. 

But, he can’t run. He can’t hide. 

He’s an American coach of American football, for goodness’ sake! He calls what these folks have ‘soccer’! He refrains from saying that aloud, though, in fear of angering every single journalist present. 

At least Trent Crimm isn’t angry. Rather, he’s just stern, calm, to-the-point, and incredibly good at wounding people with his words. 

Of course, I’m an amateur, Ted thinks, bracing the questions with a smile, ‘Specially with this British football– Thing. Yeah, I might as well just fuck right off, shouldn’t I? 

The manager doesn’t run, thankfully. He doesn’t take the next flight back to Kansas and settle in for the winter. He has to give this a red-hot crack, which is only reinforced when Rebecca Welton covers for him. 

He’ll fit in here, with time. If he keeps telling himself that, then he will. 

Trent Crimm from The Independent makes his blunt comments, but they may as well show belief, show promise. If he can talk to a complete stranger, someone so odd, with such confidence? Maybe he believes in Richmond. 

Maybe Ted Lasso will believe it, thanks to him. 

***

He can’t help but smile. 

Two grown adults in an Indian restaurant, trying to fight out the spice they’re eating. Ted handles it better, or at the very least, it comes across that way. Meanwhile, Trent Crimm from The Independent looks as though he might explode from the heat, pressing his fingers against his temples as though to manipulate it away. 

“How–” Trent practically gasps, quickly sipping his water, “How do you tolerate this?! You said… You said you’d never–” 

“Eaten Indian food?” Ted finishes for him, just to spare him the scattered breaths and unnecessary words. “Yeah, that’s right. But I guess it’s tastier than I thought? Very aromatic, crazy like that… Anyway, it’s more so about my friend’s honour, here.” 

“Honour?” The journalist leans in, brow raised, “Explain that for me.” 

“Maybe I explained it wrong,” He waves a modest hand, “Ollie invited me here, and he got me from the airport to Richmond, so… I couldn’t pass down his family restaurant! Even if it is the most knock-out sorta food I’ve ever tasted!” 

The manager is chuckling, chuckling away as he goes for another spoonful of the dish in front of him. He does it like it’s nothing! Maybe Trent’s spice tolerance is truly awful, and that’s all it is. 

Maybe Ted is just a whole lot braver than he is, willing to do anything if it means being respectful, or optimistic, or fun. It’s certainly an interesting concept, one that Trent will have to keep note on as the night progresses, hell, as the season progresses, more like! 

But he can’t help himself in the way that he notices, tracks the smile that ebbs and flows like the tide. 

“I should go,” He excuses after a while of silence, “Deadlines and all.” 

“Yeah,” Ted replies amiably, “You do what you gotta do, y’know, for work and so on… But– I really enjoyed spending this time with you, Trent.” 

And it’s clear as day, how it shows in the journalist’s face, that expression of bewilderment, disbelief, as though the manager had just insulted his family. 

“You really mean that, don’t you?” He gestures vaguely towards Ted. 

And when he doesn’t respond, simply smiles, smiles so bright, Trent comes up with his own conclusion. 

“Yeah.” He mutters under his breath as he grabs his coat, smoothly shrugging it on as he leaves. 

***

A week or so later, Ted receives a text. He almost wants to shrug it off, thinking it’s Beard with some funny chess joke or strange factoid he’s picked up… But now is not the time. 

Not now, not when he’s just sat down at the Crown and Anchor, Michelle opposite him. 

Mae’s just gone off to get their pints, encouraging Henry to play some darts… He’s off and away, and Ted hears his phone buzz again. 

“Sorry,” He murmurs, “I’ll just see who this is.” 

Michelle only nods, folding her arms in her lap. 

The manager feels himself freeze. No, it’s not some outstanding statement or new recipe from that subscription he’s linked to, no… It’s such a simple thing, such a simple person! 

How could he have expected this?! How could this even happen? Since when? 

Trent Crimm: I nicked your number from Rebecca. Must stay vigilant and all. 

Trent Crimm: Journalism never rests. Feel free to converse as much or as little as you like. 

Ted watches and waits as the grey bubble remains: Goddamn journalist’s typing more! Of course he is! 

Trent Crimm: :) 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, cracking his own smile. 

Trent Crimm with an emoticon. He thinks, beginning to type a response back, The guy’s outdone himself. 

***

Ted Lasso: Hey, Trent! Good to hear from ya. A little busy now but I’ll get back to you on all the other stuff asap. Looking forward to more chats!  

He finally puts his phone back in his pocket and reaches for his pint. 

“Sorry,” He says again, “Things have been, a little, you know,” He shrugs, “Here, there and everywhere.” 

“No, I get that,” Michelle’s laugh is soft, her finger dragging against the wooden table, “Do they– I don’t know, do they wrap the fish and chips in newspaper?” She asks, “You must be the expert, now. I just read it somewhere, I think they do that here.” 

He shakes his head, raising the glass to his lips and taking a big gulp, “Not here, they don’t. I mean at this pub, right? Might be different in other places, but, it’s all on a plate. Home-style, y’know? And I like that.” 

“I’m sure you do, Ted,” She admits with a wobble in her voice, grateful for Henry’s reappearance. 

“Whatcha talkin’ about?!” The kid asks, rocking back and forth on his heels. He attempts to withhold the gleeful smile on his face from hitting a regular. 

“Oh, it’s nothing!” His mum says, gesturing to the door, “Shall we go?” 

His dad nods in response, slowly finishing the last of his drink before kneeling down with a smile. 

“You wanna know what we were talkin’ about? Yeah. Just a fun little thing… Imagine you had a doughnut wrapped in newspaper. How cool would that be?” 

“Could I learn about dinosaurs?” Henry asks as Ted stands up again. 

“If they’re in the newspaper, you betcha.” 

The trio walk out in silence and stay in silence, even when Ted parts ways to the place he’s renting out. It’s a wave, a mouthed goodbye, and a punch to the gut. 

His only reprieve is another notification. And that’s even if it’s not Trent. Truth be told, he’d like it to be. 

Well, He rolls his shoulders, eyeing the screen, Isn’t it nice to have expectations line up with reality? 

Trent Crimm: I know we’ve hardly prepared for these communications, and they’ve mostly involved me, prattling on as always. But, I believe I could use a favour from you. 

Ted Lasso: A favour? From me? Trent Crimm The Independent asking me for a favour? 

Ted Lasso: Well I’ll be. Shoot. 

The messages pause, and the manager makes sure to have his eyes partially on the pavement. After all, he’s bound to get lost if he loses focus. 

Trent Crimm: I know that you’ve been making Rebecca’s biscuits. And I was thinking, well, there’s a certain someone I know who’d like your biscuits. If you could make some for a week’s time? She’d like it if you delivered them yourself, too. 

Right. 

That’s new. 

A ‘she’, unspecified, in the journalist’s life. And he’s revealing this now? Ted’s mind runs with thoughts as he turns a corner, thankful to see familiar buildings at his left and right. 

Who’s this? And who am I to judge? I suppose it’s just a little… Don’t know. Someone needing my biscuits, of all things, not a high-five or pep talk… 

Ted Lasso: Curious now. I could make ‘em, since you’ve given me enough warning! Gotta know, though, who’re they for? 

Trent Crimm: … 

Trent Crimm: … 

Ted Lasso: Sorry if that’s too personal. 

Trent Crimm: No, it’s alright. 

Trent Crimm: Well, she’s a three-year-old, so nothing too strong. They’d have to be small as well. Maybe a bit of decoration. 

Trent Crimm: If that’s not too tall of an order. 

The manager’s staring at the screen so long that he nearly bumps into the door of his temporary flat. He takes a step back and pockets his phone, grabbing his keys and heading inside. 

At least he can process this now. At least he can start thinking about recipes for an unspecified girl who’s a three-year-old in Trent’s life. Could be anyone, some kid he’s friends with, it doesn’t really matter. 

It just… Sparks so much curiosity in his brain! Someone as sharp as a whip, someone so breathtakingly brutal, hanging out with children? It doesn’t make sense. 

He sighs and resumes his communications, realising just how nice it is to talk as much or as little as he likes. To not be… Well, trapped, in conversation. Frozen while the other sits, waiting, staring into your eyes– 

His heart grows heavy and yet, his fingers move quickly, vision blurred by sudden tears. 

Ted Lasso: You got it, Trent. 

Ted Lasso: See you in the press room. I bet you’re already cooking up some questions. If not, talk soon! 

Trent leaves him with that stupid emoticon smile. 

Ted thinks about it for a while, shakes his head, and decides it’s best to clean up in the form of a shower. 

***

The coach manages a deep breath, staring at the ceiling. 

Too many thoughts run through his head, and it’s a surprise to him that he’s not physically drowning. 

Panic, panic, panic! It’s the only vocabulary he has, and it’s all– 

Panic attack. Right. Last night, that sums it up, the stifling heat of the karaoke bar, the crowds, the flashing lights, strangled, nausea. 

He made it out just fine, thank goodness for Rebecca Welton. She helped him breathe again, helped him stand up straight, clear out some of the darkness. 

She’s likely in her own room now, doing whatever she likes, while he lies here, thinking of panic, his few-hours-ago divorce, and Sassy Smurf. 

He keeps his eyes on the ceiling, because if he looks at her, he crumbles. 

Oh, and there it is. 

Naked body, frayed hair, slow and steady breathing… He can hear her laugh in his head, he pictures last night, you know, the part of the night after the panic attack… 

And he had fun. She certainly seemed to have fun, gripping a little too tightly at his moustache in the process. 

Guilt gnaws at him, followed by awkwardness, and then, what to do. 

Because it’s not something he’s used to, the simplicity and lack of connection that comes with a one-night stand. So, Ted quickly dresses and calls room service for a coffee. 

Not for his sake, but hers. She’ll appreciate it. 

The hours pass and he’s once again thankful to receive a distraction, also in the form of messages. 

A photo from Beard. The coach has to stifle back a laugh, it’s pretty good. 

Coach Beard: Found him. He’s in Hangover City. 

Of course, how characteristically Nate of Nate to sleep in the bus, awaiting the next day, drunk off his mind, as he would be… 

And that’s when she wakes up. 

He smiles sheepishly as she stretches, head lopsided on the pillow. To him, this whole thing should lead to other things, more dates, and so on… But there’s none of that. Their ties are supposedly severed here. 

“I ordered you a coffee,” He mumbles, “Should be here in a bit.” 

“Oh?” She chuckles, blinking back at him, “How good of you. Before I leave, I’ll order an extra large breakfast on your tab.” 

And that’s Sassy being Sassy, and how can he deny that? 

“Yeah, sounds like a pro move from you… After everything.” 

“Last night was fun.” 

“Yeah! Yeah, it was.” He rubs his moustache, “Five stars. Certified fresh.” 

Right. And that’s the stupidest thing you can say to a girl after you’ve slept with her! 

Good news, she doesn’t seem to mind. Even better news, he’s given her a late checkout, because he’s gotta run, and he’ll run. 

***

He doesn’t talk to Beard for the entire five hours of the bus trip. 

He knows he should, but he’s not in that mood. Mood for not talking? Then something’s wrong. 

Ted just shrugs it off, because he knows exactly what it all is, but is that worth discussion? No. No, it’s not. 

Instead, something else is better. 

Ted Lasso: I don’t just like your glasses, y’know. 

Ted Lasso: It’s also your writing. 

Ted Lasso: And your hair. 

The journalist is probably busy, peak working hours, after all, and the manager doesn’t delete the messages. A part of him thinks it’s from the amalgamation of drunken haze, had a panic attack, slept with a girl he’d just met, followed by the beginnings of divorce. 

The truth to the matter is that Ted is being truthful. Trent’s glasses are pretty, what’s better is his writing, his talent, master strokes (if he can even talk like that anymore), and what follows is his hair. 

Why? Well… It’s just nice. Someone’s hair can be grey and yet colourful, neat and yet messy. It’s as though it characterises him to a T. 

It also looks pretty soft. 

Ted Lasso could use some softness right about now. 

***

He excuses himself from Rebecca’s office, having given her the allotted biscuits for the day. He almost offered the other box, small and brown, to Higgins. 

Not that giving Higgins biscuits is bad. No, he deserves them for all the hard work he’s doing here! 

Those biscuits, however, are reserved for a certain three-year-old, and off he goes. 

Trent’s given an address, because secrecy can only last for so long, and Ted is not intending to drop these off like a postman. 

Especially when he remembers the journalist’s prior wording of things: She’d like it if you delivered them yourself, too. 

He sighs as he approaches the door, ringing the doorbell. There’s a ‘welcome’ doormat at his feet, and everything feels… Peaceful. And if not peaceful, then well-looked after. 

With no immediate response, he rings the doorbell again. He’s in no rush, but maybe the journalist is out and about, and he’s messed the timing of things up, maybe he’s misremembered the day, or something– 

Ted shouldn’t be listening, but being so close to these walls, he listens. 

Trent Crimm. Yes, he’s inside the fucking house. No hiding that. He’s laughing. 

Not just laughing, but repeatedly laughing, giggling, even, and he’s saying things like, “Alright… Let’s think, shall we? Isn’t that too many?” and, “Oh, you… I look like a Barbie doll now.” 

The last thing the coach wants to do is intrude, but he’s leaning against the door… Which is basically him intruding. 

Even worse is that when Trent finally answers the door, Ted falls to the floor, face-first.  

“I’m terribly sorry.” The journalist sighs, that teasing tone of his ever-so present in his voice. But, there’s also sincerity, because he’s outstretching a hand. Ted takes it with gratitude. 

Both of them meet eyes first, before the coach’s eyes very obviously move to… 

“Oh, that,” He waves a hand, “Yeah, that reminds me, Ted. Do you still like my hair?” 

There’s a smile toying on the edge of his face… 

And Ted can practically feel his heart both beating and melting in his chest. 

His hair, yes, that, is scattered with one too many things, so Trent’s words told him: Butterfly clips, bow clips, ribbons of all kinds and colours. Hell, it even looks like the three-year-old has tossed some glitter in there. 

The coach’s smile doesn’t leave him. 

“Yeah, I do, Trent. Work of art. Mind introducing me to the artist?” He says quietly, noticing the girl with an arm wrapped around Trent’s leg. 

He nods and picks the girl up, clearly comfortable with her, if anything. “This–” He brushes her dark blonde hair from her face, “Is Seraphina. My daughter.” 

Biological, or adopted, or otherwise, Ted’s not to pry. But she’s smiley, cheeky, and clearly has a perfect eye for design, and it shows.

“Oh, hey there, Seraphina,” He waves at her, holding the biscuits up and rattling them, “I wonder what these are…” 

The little girl’s eyes widen, and she grins. Trent closes the door behind them all, leading Ted through to the kitchen. 

“Mm, I wonder,” He adds as they reach the kitchen island, and he places his daughter on top of it. “Well, you better show her! Can’t keep her waiting.” 

He places the box down and watches as she looks between him, the box, and her father. And then… Biscuits. 

Round, not his usual rectangular prism, and decorated with icing and sprinkles. Fairly small, but big enough to be broken into pieces. 

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” Ted laughs, pushing the box in her direction. 

“Thank you!” Seraphina’s practically gasping now, tugging at her father’s hand, “Look! The kind man made me biscuits!” “That’s right, sweetheart,” Trent replies, “Go on and try one.” 

“Can’t say I’ve cracked the recipe with these,” Ted’s hands move to his hips, “So judge all you like! I don’t mind.” 

The toddler leans forward and picks up one biscuit in her hand, still grasping the adult’s slightly calloused hand. She’s quite dainty when she eats, Ted notices that much, and it’s oh-so clear where she got that from… 

He can practically pinpoint the moment that the sugar enters her system, that her brain is captivated by the layers of biscuit, icing and sprinkles. 

It’s the starlight in her eyes… More so the sudden widening of them, but the manager wants to feel poetic, to take this at full value. 

“Do you like them?” Trent murmurs, clearly knowing the answer. “Of course, I do!” She mumbles through her mouthful, pausing to swallow before continuing, “They’re… Amazing! So amazing! Can I write about them, dad?” 

That’s when Ted watches the shift, from Seraphina’s starlit eyes to Trent’s, the utter mention of writing leaving him with nothing but pride. 

“Oh, you can, darling… Absolutely. You’ll finish those off later, yeah?” 

“Mmm, wanna write…” Seraphina replies, moving over to place her in the living room. She sits on the floor with her pens and pencils already scattered about, and gets to it. 

That leaves the two adults to talk. 

Ted starts by scratching the back of his head, an overwhelming pride filling him, too, “Goshdarnit,” He sighs, “She is the cutest thing… And the biscuits, too. Such high praise.” 

“Might sneak a taste in, later.” Trent hums, folding his hands behind his back. His expression then changes, folding itself into something… Neutral. It’s more sincere, so the coach thinks. “Thank you for coming here. For not… Backing out. I don’t know what to tell you, Ted. It’s nice to have company, especially on her birthday.” 

He shrugs it off with his usual, “Oh, it’s nothing!” But steps closer to Trent with a laugh, “No, seriously, she is so precious, deserves the bestest birthday, if you ask me.” 

The bestest birthday… The words ring in the journalist’s head, and by the time he finishes thinking about them, he’s wrapped up in a hug. 

A warm, cosy, meaningful hug. 

Trent slowly wraps his arms back around Ted, letting out a hum in acknowledgement. He doesn’t mind how the other is quite a bit taller than him, so he’s sinking into his arms… It’s almost as though he’s being protected. 

Nevertheless, when Ted’s fingers linger near his hair, barely just brushing some strands, he doesn’t feel overwhelmed. Instead, it’s a very careful, very gentle sort of thing. After all, it’s clear as day that the manager likes his hair, no matter what form it takes. 

They stay like that for a long time, especially because, at one point, Ted tightens the hug ever-so slightly, and Trent reciprocates… 

Because nothing is easy in life. 

If the journalist knew any more about his circumstances, well… Then he’d know everything, not just the facade he puts up with every passing day. 

“I needed to get out,” He mumbles, fingers still grazing Trent’s hair, gently tracing over a particular bow clip, “Out of my head, out of that flat, out of my office. I was lucky enough to make it here without gettin’ lost, and confused, and–” 

“Ted.” Trent replies, pulling out of the hug slightly to see his face, to see him opening up, scared, “You’re alright. You’re the most thoughtful, most positive, most persevering person I’ve known. If there’s anything out there, troubling you, which there is… Then I know you’ve got a way to combat it. I’d recommend you take it slow. No point in going fast to reach a poor end.” 

“No point in going fast to reach a poor end…” Ted whispers, cracking a smile now, “I like that one.” 

Trent smiles too, and it’s a smile that reaches his eyes. “I had a strong feeling you would.” 

***

When the football coach leaves, determined to get home and start planning for the final game of the season, Trent reluctantly lets go. 

Of course, he, more than anyone, understands the importance of working… But after all this? 

He could’ve stayed like that forever, and knows that Ted could’ve, too. 

The door closes behind him. 

Trent knows, however, on a happier note, that they’ll text, that they’ll see each other in the press room. Maybe they’ll have coffee out somewhere, or he’ll pop over to Ted’s flat for a favour in return. 

Because… He might just be wanting, seeking something that he doesn’t quite know how to define. 

But, it clearly resides inside Ted Lasso. 

***

“Do you mind sharing with me?” 

There are two biscuits left. 

Seraphina’s pouting, her response of, “Fiiiine, Daddddd…” spewing the same sentiment. 

That sentiment being: They’re my biscuits! Ted gave them to me. It’s my birthday, Dad!!!

But Trent just laughs it off, taking a photo of the biscuit packet first, before eating one of the biscuits. 

Small, round, crumbly, almost shortbread-like, and sweet! 

“Yum…” He ends up saying without realising it, and Seraphina just laughs. 

“You love his biscuits too!” 

“I do.” Trent says once he’s swallowed the mouthful, “God, I really do…” 

He kisses his daughter on the forehead and folds the lid over the biscuit packet, placing the box in the cupboard. Seraphina frowns. 

“We’ll have that one tomorrow, alright?” 

“... Fine, Dad.” 

***

Trent Crimm: Photo Attached

Trent Crimm: These take the cake, Ted, really. 

Trent Crimm: Almost glad we didn’t have cake. Thank you again, for everything. 

Ted Lasso: Damn, you’re welcome!! I should be thanking you, seriously, though. 

Ted Lasso: I know there’s a lot up ahead, but today… 

Ted Lasso: … 

Ted Lasso: It really flipped a certain switch in my brain. Just a little. So good to see a new perspective. 

Trent Crimm: Glad I could help. I mean that, by the way. 

Trent Crimm: … 

Trent Crimm: <3

***

Ted searches up the emoticon at the speed of light. Because it’s not as simple as decoding a smiley or frowny face. 

An analogue heart. 

It makes Ted feel warm and fuzzy. Warm and fuzzy in a way that’s like Christmas, with a fireplace on, and cinnamon, and presents. 

It makes Ted feel… Appreciated. 

Because as much as he tells others he feels the sentiment, it doesn’t always get sent back to him. 

This is heart, literally and metaphorically. This is meaningful. This is caring. 

He takes a deep, slow breath, and lets it go. 

Ted Lasso: Thank you. 

Ted Lasso: Truly. 

Ted Lasso: But I’m gonna go to sleep now. Goodnight, Trent Crimm from The Independent! 

Trent Crimm: Goodnight, Coach Ted Lasso from America.

Ted Lasso: Oh wait

Ted Lasso: One more thing 

Ted Lasso: <3

[faunastanza]

Thread into Althar

Thread into Althar, by Azlyn, Razca, Yurayana, Yevelle, Myandery, observed by Shizukan Despite how insanely overinvested this whole blog is in this comic, I don't actually check on Floraverse that often since it updates so sporadically. Like I said some time ago, sometimes months or even a year can go by before an update happens. Imagine my surprise when I did a periodic check on it as usual and saw that there were TWO updates!! Wow!! I went to check Glip's twitter for further context as Charlie Brown approaches the football every time, and of course, I landed flat on my back. Glip did have a doc they wrote up about how they regretted keeping someone on their discord from committing suicide because they were annoying though. This isn't a new sentiment for Glip at all - they've previously told people they'd be better off dead several times. Their total unawareness of how bad it makes them look is a bit striking though. "You said you don't care about Glip's real life, why do you keep checking their twitter?" It's true that I don't care about Glip's real life, I just want to know what's going on in their insane webcomic because it has some kind of sick hold on me, but the annoying thing is that Glip's real life is constantly bleeding into their comic. Is this character an actual villain, or are they someone Glip was mad at in their discord? Is this a plot development, or a veiled metaphor for a callout about them? Is this a character or is it just Marl or Pengo or Sila again? You constantly have to ask yourself these questions as you read the comic. I suppose it does make for a unique reading experience. For fun, here's the recent info Glip posted that may or may not influence this update or future ones - one of the mods on their discord got outed for being a pedo and a zoophile and was banned. This seems to happen a lot on their discord for some reason, it's so weird!! They're also in a feud with someone who knew the pedo who made a zine about their discord being a cult and claimed Glip was trying to human traffic them. "Who cares, this is unrelated drama" IS IT?? IS IT REALLY??? You can never be sure!! You'll just have to keep it in mind whenever you read a Floraverse update from now on!! They apparently also have a podcast of sorts where they talk about "the truth" of what goes on in the discord and such but the episodes are like three hours long and I feel like listening to them is taking things too far. I already know I'm staring into the abyss, I've got to have limits. Also, three+ hours??? I already spend way too much time thinking about all this crap as it is. Anyway, this is "by" a bunch of people but it's just the characters that are in the RP. We know Glip and Pengo are in the RP but how many other people, I don't know. They have multiple characters running around after all. We're introduced to a dude in a sombrero and a Hot Topic looking critter.

and an unpalatable muffin

Sombrero's name is Myandery and the Hot Topic thing is Shizukan. Myandery notices that Shizukan has a little compact from Teslic Yard and asks if it's supposed to have that. In response Shizukan holds the compact out out to Myandery, who remembers that Shizukan can't speak. It takes the compact while Shizukan whirls its arms around to make threads, just like in the title!!

 buy me on a shirt

Shizukan whipping its arms around serves as a way to scene change via the compact, so we're going to be hopping around a bit. We see Azlyn/Orobas finally! She's asking everyone for help with a ritual to help someone "whose name was injured". If you remember way back when, one of the ways to protect yourself from an angel was to repeat your name and occupation over and over. I'm assuming that's related but it's not explained so, who knows.

She says that his name was very important and that without it, we "lost him" for a while, but if they give him a new one, he'll come back. She says that we can find a new name for him with enough love, since love is about reaching out and inviting in. Azlyn says that Gaap is asking for letters of love, condensed into glyphs (Andre can't read, remember). She says the first part is writing out the letter, not just imagining it in your head but writing it for real. She says that she wrote one, but it's a little unorthodox.

Her letter is clearly about Amdusias, although she doesn't remember her apparently. She says that she knows her voice and her face, but when she thinks about it they disappear, like notes to a song she can't remember (Amdusias taught her a song and told her not to forget it, but she always does). She talks about how important Amdusias is and how she matters to her, and that even if she can't remember/doesn't know who she is, she knows something's missing and she mourns not being with her, whoever she is. She wonders how they'll meet and what binds them together so strongly that she remembers shadows of her even now, without fully knowing her. She gets teary, wondering when she'll meet her and that all she can do is wait. She then says she's a fortune teller, and a side effect of that can be prophetic dreams, so this letter is for someone she hasn't met yet.

Where this is on the timeline is unclear, and we're possibly in another frequency entirely so shrug!! We last saw Amdusias having nightmares or something on Trebol and when she woke up Orobas wasn't there, so who knows. I like this scene though and getting glimpses of Orobas and Amdusias again. Reminders of a simpler time and better characters in this comic's history...

where is my big-handed girlfriend

We cut to a brief glimpse of the Worthworm on the Andre painting, then Shizukan shifts the scene again. We meet a dude who looks like a cross between a snake and a mantis. This is Razca, one of the heads of the other religions. She talks a bit differently and capitalize random nouns. She's heard about Gaap's request for letters and want to address her congregation about it.

beware the heart tail Razca says that it might be hard to think of a good feeling to send out for Gaap's request, so she wants to talk about her own feelings in hopes it'll inspire their congregation to think about theirs and decide if they want to do Gaap's request or not.

Razca talks about loss and deaths in her family and how it feels to grieve and miss them every day. This is also well done and genuine, which makes me suspect someone other than Glip wrote it.

it sounds like she's talking about death but it could just be someone who left but eh, negligible difference Anyway, Razca says that because she wishes she could have that person back so much, the chance to bring someone back is very precious, so she's going to help Gaap as best she can. She says that some believe that people who've died should be allowed to rest, but she sees it as a chance for a new beginning and that if the ritual works, she wants to be part of it.

We get a brief shot of Andre when he burned Beleth to death, although in this shot he's burning an open door. Shizukan then cuts to a white uniqorn somewhere. A dog comes in and says that the Synemetrics are on the move, and asks the uniqorn if he has thoughts about Gaap's call for assistance. Turns out that the uniqorn is in charge of Psia'ago, or Pengo's religion I assume. He says that if people in Pengoism want to help out Gaap then fine, it's their call.

looks kind of like a mouse

The dog asks if Yevelle is also going to help, but he say he's hesitant to talk about love, and he thinks talking about love for a ritual is disrespectful. The dog, whose name is Hilo or Milo but the font is so weird I can't tell, let's go with Milo, asks if it's because Yevelle is afraid of being hurt. This question pisses Yevelle off as he says no one can hurt him. Milo is unimpressed, so Yevelle asks if saying "I am afraid" would please them. Milo says they just want to know what Yevelle is actually feeling.

Yevelle says he's asking his people to help constructively if they do decide to help Gaap. He hopes that the people of Althar will respond with love untainted by malice, as love tainted with malice can be hard to unravel if sweetened enough. Glip's mentioned malice a few times before, in particular saying it was what broke the Mask of the Sun and led to all those insane mspaint VNs a while back. Could be related, could not be related. Just making a note of it.

Milo turns to leave for their nightly rounds, as Yevelle instructed. Yevelle comes over to put their hood up for them, chiding them not to do anything he wouldn't do, and Milo jokes back while calling them Vel, so these two are either friends or an item. My money is on the latter.

We get a brief cut of Nuez looking at Phesund in her ugly fullbody paintbrush tail form. Shizukan tries to move the scene again but something wrong happens and there's static instead. We then get a goofy news report on the whole business from an unknown person. They call Gaap the "high priestident" which I kind of like ngl. The newscaster, a sun looking thing with a goofy face, says that the Payayan temple is near the Synemetric one, saying it's an eyesore, and brings us inside. There's a stripey cat walking around.

seems like they have consistent trouble with the word "president"

The cat tells Belnono (lol) to knock off the fake newscasting. Belnono is this ridiculous looking "dog" made out of leather straps and what appears to be a flat sundial for a head.

what

The cat's name is Yurayana and she is proportioned a bit like a triangle.

tapering up to a point Belnono has a moon counterpart called Belauna because of course. An unknown figure says something to Yurayana but we don't know what. The two dogs bicker about correlation and causation as Yurayana continues down the hallway. Yurayana tells them to knock it off since she's trying to focus. They ask if she's going to send a glyph, with Moondog sure that she will since she's good and kind and loyal, and Sundog expressing skepticism. This makes Yurayana snap at them angrily to be quiet, which scares them. She walks off in silence and the dogs follow her.

We get a brief shot of what looks like the plague doctor from last time approaching Nuez but she has a lot of weird wingy things around her.

no eyes and fire? lame

It looks like she might be protecting Phesund (birdform) from the plague doctor. Shizukan seems to regain control and switches everything back to Azlynobas. She talks about how to turn your letter into a glyph. Basically you think about your letter and then draw whatever shapes come into your mind.

The screen goes dim and Myandery asks if Shizukan came out all this way just to show it this. It tries to move its strings around but nothing happens, so it nods. Myandery says that the faces all looked familiar and asks if Shizukan knew it'd see familiar things. Shizukan shakes its head, then nods.

Myandery says their former teacher was in there, someone who used to be known as Andrealphus before Myandery came here (to Althar I assume). It says it knows that Andre is an important figure in Synemetricism and that its friend said Andre was an Arch Magni. Myandery then says that its friend used to be an angel (you can cure that??) and was responsible for "asking a question" that put us (not sure who the us is here) in Undertown, where angels hang out. It's where Glip and Pengo had that talk but I'm not sure if its where all the mspaint vns happened or not. Who knows.

funkopop coming soon

Myandery says it saw Dr. Curse (the plague doctor? but I thought it was that tv thing) and Nuez, who it says helped it with the ritual that "put intentions" into the collar around Shizukan's neck. It then apologizes if the collar is hurting Shizukan. Shizukan gives it a few looks and then waves goodbye and leaves.

We cut to Mel's house sometime later, and it turns out Mel was the beecat. They're with some kind of bizarre looking bird thing and a big egg. They say a synemetric came by talking about the ritual. The bird is TALwire- what??? Why is TALwire a bird??? WHat???? What???

if i open my mouth too wide my eye hurts When did this happen??? Oh, right, in the RP no one got to see I assume. Great! Great. That's great. Mel shows TALwire a glyph and says that they said stuff that sounded like "what you saw" but the paper has more details. They give a bunch of dates that's just when the RP starts. She refers to Andre as the "to-be-named one" and basically explains what you have to do to fill the RP prompt of writing a letter/glyph to Gaap.

Mel then says the bees were acting different and they got a weird feeling from them. They say the dance the bees did reminds them of when they left a fire on when they didn't mean to for a few hours. The fire didn't hurt anyone but it could have been worse. They say it also reminds them of when a Zweitru came to the door which reminds them of ANOTHER fire that sparked and scared them. They thought a lot about fires and the importance of ponds and water. Deep stuff.

The Zweitru came back later and told them about a Zweitru turning into an angel, but the Zweitru were annoyed everyone was making such a big deal about it, like it didn't matter much to them. They figure that they felt like people were more eager for an excuse to be mad at Zweitruity than worried about the new angel. You'd think the incredibly stupid name would be enough of an excuse to be mad but hey.

Mel then says they've been rambling and asks if they should go to Razca for help. TALwire says sure. They bring the egg. And then that's it! That's the end!!

What about all the Mesund Phesund Phesomme Deca stuff from the last VN? You fool. We'll never know. Glip mentions in the description that this has a glimpse of Teslic Yard (where? where myandery and shizukan were?) and again begs you to join the discord in BOLD. PLEASE JOIN!! PLEASE JOIN!! You can talk about the update too!! You don't have to RP!! PLEASE JOIN!! PLEASE JOIN!!! (don't join)

[kraeki]

mac allister has really disappointed me with his statement about enzo’s and his other teammates’ racist chants. it’s giving gaslighting as in “europeans are so sensitive it’s just a song” like what? even is it’s ‘just a song’ to you argentinians it’s racist to the rest of the world. accept your “mistake” and apologise. talking about oh he apologised. lmao that was a ‘here damn’ apology if i’ve ever seen one. no remorse. what’s still messing with me is the fact that they sang that song and didn’t even play against france??? 💀 likeeee black people are on your mind that much? also argentina is such a racist country but argentinians are so consumed in their racism that they don’t realise it. this may be a silly silly point but have you guys everrrr seen a black person play for argentina 😀. macca should’ve just shut up. ignored the question if it came up. even if he’s not a racist himself he’s a racist apologist and i don’t rate him highly anymore. i mean did he also forget he has black teammates? in fact a black african french teammate? smh macca. i hope the best for our preseason cause…and middle finger to you still enzo 🖕🥰

- a disappointed yet again 🥸 anon

Aaa I am sorry for this late response, this message got lost in my inbox 😭

I was very disappointed but not surprised by the Argentina NT reaction to the criticism they received. I honestly kinda knew what Macca would say if he said something. Same as I knew Messi, the respected face of Argentine and world football would never say anything. Was honestly so stupid of Macca to say anything after he got lucky and wasn’t pictured on that damn bus (let’s be real, he would’ve been singing if he was on it!).

If we remove the racist and transphobic elements, yes it’s still so stupid to even sing that song when they won an AMERICAN competition omg. The way they always have the most to say about anything Mbappe says as well. It’s giving unhealthy obsession!!! What did France even do to you? They LOST to you?? Have you guys ever heard of the concept of being a graceful winner??

Anyway, back to the biggest issue of the actual lyrics those men have no problem singing. Answering your ask late means I can also say now that this issue seems to be already forgotten and no one received any consequences besides Enzo. He rightfully got the most heat as the poster and the one in front of the camera. With the added element of him actually having several French teammates of African descent.. But it annoys me so much that he was the only one that had to apologize (shittily!!). We’ll see how it will be when he returns to Chelsea. Poor Fofana for having to deal with more consequences of rightfully speaking out than the actual wrongdoers. I hope the French Football Federation manages to keep this alive and that there will be some punishment.

Anyway yes, my opinion of Macca is deffo low rn. I would love to know what Ibou thinks about this. Or the captain, whose mother was not born in Europe either.

[the-trinket-witch]

Practically Perfect Ch. 6

(Ch 7|Ch 5|Ch 1)

"So you pass between sides of the field to score goals based on how far it had been moved before...Someone gets tackled?!" Albert repeated. Yuu had spent the evening and following morning explaining to both Grim and Albert the concept of 'American Football'. "Seems a bit more contact than I'd prefer in a sport." 

The three continued breakfast until a knock at the door interrupted. A ghost poked their head in, through the wall, to relay the message.

"Uhhh, it's Headmaster Crowley~ he's sitting in the lounge when you can~"

Yuu grimaced, Albert also knowing all too well by now Crowley's presence meant additional work. 

"Ah-there you all are. I have a request-see it like...an exchange. You provide me some intel about a string of accidents happening around campus, in exchange, I continue to provide you lodgings without charge. You're more than welcome to join as well, Mr. Eastwind-you still have board tuition to pay but I could allow this month be...shall we say 'waived' if you were to assist your dormmates in this matter."

The three exchanged knowing but resigned glances, sighing in agreement.  

"Wait though! How do we know these are part of somethin' bigger and not like… People just being clumsy, being all excited for the tournament and all?" Grim asked.

"That's what one would assume on first glance, but with 10 already injured just this year, it can't be ignored. I sadly don't have any evidence to say so, but that's why I'm here!"

"Myehhh this doesn't sound like any of our business anyway-we can't even play!"

"If you could shed light on these occurrences, there may be a way I may be able to pull some strings, to allow your dorm to compete," Crowley offered. 

Al watched both Grim and Yuu's eyes shine at the prospect.  Yuu halted though to ask where they'd be able to get enough players to even qualify. 

"Fret not! I'm a gracious headmaster so you can rest assured I will uphold my end of this little bargain of ours~"

—--

The three took the day to check the infirmary, the student there giving his testimony about his trip down the stairs, another splashing himself and others with boiling potion, and one more seemed to overstretch and possibly tore something. Yuu took notes, Grim asked the questions, and Albert tried piecing things together. The trio made their way back to their dorm, at one point Al accidentally collided with a familiar beastman. Apologies were exchanged and they were on their way. 

“They all just sound clumsy, I still don’t know what the big deal is,” Grim concluded.  A knock at the door announced Ace.

They filled him in on the situation, but with an extra head there didn’t seem to be any more headway. Al contemplated it more, emptying his pockets for the afternoon, to find the contents of the left: missing. He let out a quick sound of surprise, but immediately began smirking.

“What’s so funny?” Ace wondered. 

“Oh, I must have had either a hole in my pocket earlier, or someone’s got sticky fingers on campus. I had some change for laundry and a couple of cat treats for Lucius, but they’ve all disappeared. If it was taken I’m sure they’re probably surprised to find not a wallet but pet treats.” Al smiled. “Just tells me keeping my billfold and phone up here was a wise choice,” he patted at a spot on his jacket. 

They all looked a little confused, but their wonder broke at the sound of someone barging into the dorm. 

“GUYS-This is bad!” Deuce skid into the lounge, “Clover got hurt on the stairs!”

>I couldn’t imagine him being clumsy…

>He doesn’t seem the type to get wrapped up in excitement…

The group trekked to Heartslabyul to find Cater already in the middle of helping Trey.

“Hey kids-How’re yall doing?” Cater started in.

“We’re fine, but what about Trey?” Ace demanded.

“I’m all right-just a fumble on the stairs. I’m fine but this foot’s a little banged up. I’m probably gonna be in crutches for a hot minute. Though probably too long for me to keep on the Magift Team this year.” Trey explained. 

Riddle barged in, completely at the ready, to help. 

“If there’s anything you need, please ask. This is all my fault…” Riddle seemed about on the verge of tears.

“Will do, but hey, hey, hey; don’t beat yourself up! You had a spill and I was there, thankfully to catch you.”

“What?!” Albert interrupted. “Sorry, Riddle, but you also had an issue on the stairs?”

“Like Trey said, he caught me before I could fall, but…I do feel guilty it resulted in this.”

“If it helps, permit me to offer any assistance I can. This is starting to sound a lot more suspicious now that it’s happening so close to home…”

Cater interrupted, “Speaking of-how about we give Trey some space to recoup-lemme meet you downstairs.”

That was the group’s signal to leave. Once downstairs, he corralled everyone to the lounge.

“I didn’t wanna say anything about it in front of ‘im, but I’m getting the feeling it’s pretty sus, too,” Cater whispered.

“What do you mean?” Riddle asked.

“Well, we’ve been investigating all these spills and accidents, this one being the latest…This is really looking more orchestrated. But how?” Albert replied.

“Not sure how-but look at all who’re getting hurt: All players, or at least contenders, for the Magift Tournament.”

“Do you think somebody’s got a hit out on the other competitors?” Ace asked.

“Possibly-This tournament can make or break someone’s prospects with sponsors,” Riddle noted. “To that end: I’m going to help, too. The problem, first off, seems to be catching the culprit in the act,” Riddle announced.

“Ok, but like, How?” Grim yowled.

“WAIT-A Stakeout!” Ace and Deuce concluded together. 

>I can go with that…

>But who do we think is going to be targeted next?

“I got a few ideas, let’s get goin’ and we can go down the list,” Cater said with a flip of his phone-already on Magicam.

—---

“First Stop: Pomefiore!”

“Riddle, please remind me who the dorm leader was here?” Albert asked, “I don’t think I met him at the meeting earlier.”

“Oh, Vil Schoenheit. I believe, though, we are looking for his second-in-command: Rook Hunt.”

“He’s the dude with the bob and the hat. There he is,” Cater pointed out. They watched the two older students chiding another, smaller, student. 

“Nyehh, doesn’t look real strong to me,” Grim muttered. “Let's check somewhere else…”

Cater led them to the central courtyard, where they eyed a couple of heads of teal hair. 

“There they are. ‘Cater Check’ says we might have a possibility Octavinelle’s Leech Twins might get targeted.”

“Ya sure? They’re huge!” Ace noted. “Ya don’t think they’ll be able to hold their own against somebody trying to get them hurt?”

“I’d for sure save them for last-especially that Floyd, there. That’s the one people especially try steering clear of,” Riddle mentioned with a shudder. His voice must have carried just far enough, as the more disheveled of the two turned towards the group. A toothy grin erupted at the sight of someone in the group, as he began a march over.

“GOLDFISHIE~” he yelled. 

“Dammit, he saw me!” Riddle cursed, ducking behind Albert. He poked his head back out, “I told you not to call me that! I don’t even know how you came up with it, anyway!”

“Cause you’re tiny and red like a lil goldfish~” he lilted. “Neh, a flamin’ cat? Mind if I give it a good squeeze?” a dark glint shown in his bicolored eyes. The smiling maw of his seemed to grow wider at the thought. “Maybe Shrimpy? A shrimp like you might be real easy to squeeze.” Yuu didn’t make any attempt at hiding the back-step they took, also behind Albert.

“Ah, Heartslabyul’s dorm all together? A reconnaissance mission, I assume?” The other twin asked, slithering up from behind the first. “Mind if we troubled you the reason you’re all trying to spy on us?”

Ace noted the creepiness of the more collected one’s expression, as cold as it still seemed with a feigned smile.

“Our apologies, gentlemen,” Albert piped up. “We didn’t mean to give the assumption of us ‘spying’ on either of you. We’ve actually been doing candid interviews! Could we take a moment of your time?” it wasn't technically a lie, as the mention of what the interview was for didn't need addressed. 

Riddle made a confused sound, but Al made a motion behind him to signal the group to leave. They took the hint and slowly started backing up. 

“So, gents, If you’d prefer we can make our way this way, or we can find a nice patch of grass to start this interview…” He made motions to turn them away from the band. 

“Ehh, new face here-you talk a bunch. Ya want us to talk? How ‘bout we play tag, we catch you: I get to squeeze ya and get’cha to shut up.” The one designated as Floyd growled. He in turn laid a large hand over Al’s head, further emphasizing their height difference. 

“Watch our step; in time I believe we could actually come to be friends, but if you insist on ‘tag’ for a chat...” Al started before disappearing from between the two, reappearing a couple feet ahead of them. “Then I believe that makes you both ‘It’.”

The two made confused glances between themselves, the spot Albert was, landing on where he stood currently. They stared back, teeth bare, with the gaze of two predators smelling blood in the water. In a quick flash the two were on the move. It caught Albert by surprise, but the moment he sensed they were about to touch him, he paused his time to move to another spot, and resumed; for them he vanished before they could grab him, only for him to appear a few meters in another direction. A couple more confused looks between the two and they set off in their new trajectory. This continued for a couple of minutes, affording the rest of the troupe to flee. They kept pace with their target, getting closer to him each time, which concerned Al. He’d never had someone anticipate where he’d blip back in. An instance Floyd made a grasp at the air. Albert had blipped back in only to find the time resuming to his pursuer grasping out directly where he had stood.

“There ya are-ya can’t hide from these noses~” He warned.

Albert’s heart skipped a beat as he felt the other man’s skin on his throat, before pausing time once more. He made a quick trek to one of the balconies before resuming time, allowing himself to catch his breath and resteady his nerves. 

“Sorry, you two, but if you don’t have time for an interview, I simply must be on my way, then! Lovely to meet you!” He shouted from the second floor before trotting away.