#anyways watching the woman’s gold medal game

[medievalthymes]

love it in hockey when a team comes off a penalty and the arena’s technical team plays the mario level up sound. it’s so cute

[magics-neptunes-things]

One Love (2)

Hello everyone!

After several requests for Luna, here again. The requests can be found here, here and here. I know I haven’t answered all the suggestions you’ve made, but it gives me more ideas for other stories/chapters so it’s pretty cool right?

Also, I have absolutely not reread what I wrote, apologies if there are mistakes.

Enjoy!

(1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8)

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Lucy was looking at her girlfriend with pride. She was gutted when she learned that her team wasn’t qualified to play the Olympics Games, which was quite understandable. But now in her WAG era, she can’t be anything except proud of her girlfriend. She just has to shoot a glance at Lia to know that she’s proud of her own girlfriend too. Her friendship with her was unexpected to be honest. But when Ona mentioned that she could assist the final of the UEFA National League with the Swiss Woman, Lucy didn’t refuse. She didn’t know personally Lia, but some of her friends did and she always heard good things about her.

And since they had a great time together at Sevilla, Lucy proposed at Lia to watch the game together. They weren’t in the family section, but Lucy is wearing a Spanish jersey with the number 2 and O. Batlle written on the back. She couldn’t be more obvious than that. Lia chooses to be more subtle and was wearing a bracelet with Spanish color and Mariona’s number writing in white.

“She’s looking for you” Lia says to Lucy.

Ona was actually in the pitch, her eyes scanning the crowd. Lucy told her where she will be sat, but it’s difficult to see when the stadium is full like today. Laia Aleixandri came to hug Ona and exchange a few words with her, before starting to look at the crowd too.

“They are so bad at this” Lucy laughs.

“Mario didn’t find me either” Lia smiles.

But it doesn’t really matter, both know that they will find their girlfriends later for the celebration. Ona is disturbed in her research by Aitana, coming to jump on her back and taking her to go to the ceremony and be cover with her gold medals. Another one to add to the Spanish collection.

With a pout on her face, Ona let Aitana take her by the arm, leading her where they’re supposed to be. But Ona turns her head one last time and that’s when she saw her. Her face light up in an almost funny way and Lucy just wave at her. Ona wave back, making a heart with her hands before following Aitana, her heart lighter now.

***

Almost two hours later, Ona can finally go to the room where their family and friends are. She just out of the shower and her hair are still wet from it, but she just wants to see her girlfriend. She thought that now that they both live in Barcelona being away from her will be less difficult. How was she wrong. Being apart from Lucy is harder everyday and she can’t remember how she survived the long-distance relationship at first. Her being in Manchester and Lucy in Barcelona, they were way more apart than together. Even if they managed to have quality time, like the day when Lucy went to see her play, it was hard. And she was missing Lucy a lot.

Lucy’s smiling when she saw Ona and the younger one can’t resist and almost jump in her arms. She saw an edit of her almost crashing in Lucy’s arms at each beginning of games and Lucy teased her a lot about it.

This time, the English woman pick her and squeeze her hard in her arms, lifting her feet off the ground a few centimeters. Ona laughs and put a kiss in her neck, before being putting on the ground again.

“You were amazing. Like always. I’m so proud of you Ona, I swear” mumbles Lucy, stroking Ona’s cheek.

The brunette blushes, unable to keep looking at her girlfriend. Her smile is wide anyway and Lucy has to work on herself not to kiss her like crazy right now. She knows those kinds of kisses will come later, in their hotel room. Or Ona’s hotel room, in which Lucy intends to impose herself tonight.

“I love you” whispers Lucy in Ona’s hear after taking her against her one more time.

Ona looks at her this time, still with her big smile on her face.

“I love you too, Luce. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for one million. Plus, I have my new bestie now.”

Ona follows Lucy gaze on Lia and Mariona, standing a few meters from them, and chuckle lightly. And, because she’s still in her girlfriend’s arms, she lets herself go a little more against Lucy. The dark hair woman kiss her hair softly before releasing her.

“Go say hi to your family, your brother is here and I think he misses you. I’ll try those margaritas. I see you later superstar.”

Ona pouts but let Lucy push her in the right direction. To be honest, she missed her brother, her sister-in-law and her parents too. She went for them under Lucy’s gaze, before the English woman went to the bar.

Lucy let Ona enjoy her night with her teammates and family, even if she knows a lot of them. She’s happy for the Spanish team, a lot of them are her friends too after all. She talks with Jenni with whom she hasn’t had much exchange since her departure for Mexico, but which she is happy to meet again.

She talked with Mariona too, Cata and Aitana. It’s only when she’s talking to Alexia about the new restaurant in their neighborhood that she feels a twist in her stomach.

“You’re not watching your girl, Bronzey?” asks Jenni with a smirk, cutting their conversation.

Frowning, Lucy immediately looks for Ona’s figure in the crowd. She spots her quickly in a corner of the room, talking with someone. Well Lucy wouldn’t have a problem with Ona talking to someone, but this someone having their hand on her girlfriend, it’s something else.

“Who’s this?” she asks Alexia.

The blonde looks in the same direction before answering. She frowns too and it piques Lucy’s curiosity. Usually, Alexia knows everyone, even from afar. No matter who this girl is, she still has a hand on Ona’s shoulder and holds her hand with the second.

The English girl feels her blood bubbling in her veins. She was never jealous before Ona, she was more the kind of girl who can let her girlfriend for a two weeks journey without her. She can’t even imagine this kind of things with Ona. It’s not that she didn’t trust her girlfriend, she knows Ona would never do anything like that. But she didn’t trust the world, who doesn’t seem to be able to resist Ona’s charm.

Lucy’s jaw is tightened when Ona looks up in her direction. But Lucy realizes immediately the look of distress from Ona. She didn’t need more, putting her glass in Jenni’s hands before crossing the room to take her girlfriend back.

“Hola” Lucy says when she’s next to Ona.

She heard them talking in Catalan and thanks to Ona, her Catalan is way better than it was before. Next to her, Ona seems to be relaxing and it’s only now that she’s by her side that Lucy realizes how uncomfortable her girlfriend was.

“Hola mi Vida” Ona smiles, before turning at Lucy’s opponent “Lucy, this is Maria. Maria, you know Lucy?”

Lucy can’t say if it’s because of her burning look, but the named Maria release Ona almost immediately, to their relief. Still keeping her eyes on Maria, Lucy takes Ona by her waist, dragging her against her body. But Ona let her do it, knowing how much Lucy can struggle with her jealousy sometimes.

Lucy learns that this Maria is here because she’s a great friend from Atheana and as Ona and Maria talked, she didn’t let Ona go. Ona’s hand finds their way to Lucy’s back pocket, the English woman smirking at the movement.

Atheana finally comes to take her friend back and If Ona says goodbye, Lucy only responds with a vague gesture of the head. Ona let a sigh of relief go, sticking against Lucy.

“Thanks for coming for me” Ona whispers.

But Lucy only grumbles, still looking at Maria who is now talking to Teresa. She only takes her eyes away from her when Ona kisses her jaw.

“Who was this bitch touching you?”

Ona flinches a little at the question, dragging Lucy’s attention once again. She doesn’t want to hide anything to her though, so she answers with all her sincerity.

“Maria. We… Well, we had a thing, some years ago” Ona confesses, looking carefully at Lucy’s face.

Lucy knows she doesn’t have the right to be jealous, Ona had a life before her, and she knows it. But still. Having her brain picturing her girlfriend with someone else is always something very disturbing for her.

“And why your ex thinks it’s ok to touch you the way she did?” Lucy groans

“I don’t know. I try to escape her grip but when I took a step back, she moved forward by two.” Ona answers, still looking deeply at Lucy, before asking. “Do you maybe want some fresh air?”

“Yes please”

Without waiting a little more, Ona takes Lucy’s hand to drag her outside. It was cold now that the night is well advanced and Ona shivers almost immediately. Lucy sees it, of course, and opens her arms in invitation for her girlfriend. The younger one doesn’t hesitate to stick to Lucy, who then tightens her arms around her, locking her with her in her jacket.

Rocking themselves lightly, Lucy let her lips slide along Ona’s temple. The Spaniard has her face against Lucy neck and really thinks she can fall asleep just like that. She can smell and feel Lucy everywhere and it’s her favorite place to be.

“When was it?” Lucy asks suddenly.

“What?” Ona mumbles almost sleepily, pulling her face out of Lucy’s neck.

“You and this… Maria”

“Oh. It was way before you.”

“Well, I hope so. I’d have to kill her otherwise.”

Ona giggles lightly, kissing her girlfriend softly on her lips. She missed this feeling too, Lucy’s lips are way softer than she expects at first. And she loves it.

“It was before Feli. In like 2018, 2019 I think” answers Ona after the kiss, playing with Lucy’s baby hair on her neck.

“And why didn’t it work with her?”

Her tone was less aggressive now, Lucy being genuinely intrigued by the answer. Ona almost never talks about her past relationships; Lucy isn’t even sure that she can name all of Ona’s exes.

“I don’t really know” Ona answers “We were young and the long-distance relationship wasn’t really for us. At the end we were just fighting for everything, anytime. It was really tiring honestly. She was the one who broke up, but it was definitely better this way.”

Lucy hums, looking at her girlfriend with a thoughtful gaze. Ona didn’t take hers away, her arms still around her neck. But then Lucy seems to come back to herself and tighten her arms around Ona’s waist.

“Well, she had her chance. Now you’re mine.”

********

Hours later, Lucy’s watching Ona came back to reality under her, a smirk on her face. They had their personal celebration after the official, Lucy following Ona in her hotel room. They didn’t really ask the permission to be honest, but as soon as the door was close behind them, nothing mattered.

Letting Ona catch her breath again, Lucy kisses slowly her cheeks, her nose, her neck and every part of her face. Soon after she can feel Ona smiling under her lips and that’s the moment when she kisses her lips.

“You okay Princesa?” she whispers against her lips.

“Couldn’t be better” Ona mumbles. “You?”

“More than that” Lucy assures her.

Ona smiles but doesn’t let Lucy gets up from the bed when the English woman try to, wrapping her hands around Lucy’s body. Even under the explanation that she was just going to get them a bottle of water, Ona doesn’t release her.

“I had to live almost a month without you. Don’t hope to take a step without me being less than fifty centimeters from you.”

Lucy laughs, lying again with the Spaniard in her bed. She lets Ona’s hand stroke her body, with much more tenderness and much less eagerness and almost despair than some minutes ago.

They look at each other, each of them in her own head. Ona is thinking about their time together from the beginning, the first time they really talked at Lucy Stanisford’s wedding. How she blushed when she cross Lucy’s eyes an awful number of times during the night, before Lucy came to talk to her. They immediately click together, like to part of the same orange. Lucy was everything she always wished for and she never has been so happy in her life before her.

In Lucy’s head, however…

“I’m going to marry you, one day.”

“What?”

In fact, Ona perfectly understood the words that have just passed Lucy’s lips.

“I’m going to marry you, one day.”

Lucy does not hesitate to repeat herself, without leaving Ona’s face. It’s not a question, rather an information she gives to Ona. The brunette didn’t answer at first, before biting her lips.

“Don’t say that” she whispers.

“Why?” Lucy says, a little louder than Ona “I thought you wanted to get married?”

They had this conversation some weeks ago and Ona confessed her desire to get married with Lucy and having a family with her too. It was something Lucy wanted to too, so Ona’s reaction is a little hard to understand for her at this moment.

“I do” the Spaniard answers, taking one of Lucy’s hands in hers to play with her fingers. “But my abuela always said not to talk about the things we want too often because it attracts the evil eye or bad luck. And what you just said... there’s nothing I want more than that."

Lucy holds back from rolling eyes in front of so much superstition, content to deposit a delicate kiss on the lips of her girlfriend.

"There is no evil eye, no bad luck, no one who will stop us. Don’t worry about that."

It’s hard for Ona not to believe what Lucy just said. Although the words were whispered, there is such a strength of conviction in each of them that Ona cannot doubt it.

"I love you, Ona. I love you so much and I swear I will fight for us every day of my life if I have to. You are my everything, no one will ever take that away from you."

Ona’s crying now, overwhelmed by so much love. She takes Lucy’s face between her hands and kiss her with all the love, the affection and the passion she has for her. She’s not sure that it proves almost the half of all her feelings, but she try.

And she will try maybe a lot of time more this same night.

[anthonybialy]

Sitting on the Medal Stand Waiting for the Olympics to Return

Olympics withdrawal is part of training.  You might think it’s harder to exert in a gym or pool.  But you’re very wrong just as if you had bet on North Korean basketball.  Viewers who now face desolate hours have ample time to ponder how we wasted hours before watching every sport all the time for part of this special summer.  Life is about cherishing rare fond memories during largely lousy times, so the global athletic swap meet shouldn’t be any different.

Fasting follows a sporting buffet.  Choosing between volleyball, the other volleyball, cylindrical net volleyball which I call basketball, and people racing on land and by sea without any nets at all is the delightful overindulgence available every few summers.  

I knew I recognized the host city: it’s the one from John Wick 4.  Paris seems so obvious that the only problem is the lack of surprise.  That’s why Jerry and company chose to fly there.  I wonder if they made it for the Olympics while on parole.  As for me, I’m finally back on the clock assigned to me after adjusting to French time.  I improved in the event after starting the Games as confused by zones as Marvin Barnes.

Using the city as a venue is as clever as it is efficient right up until getting directly familiar with the water.  The river looks nice from the banks.  As with impressionist paintings, the Seine is not as impressive up close.  Participants couldn’t apply an Instagram filter while swimming.  The ick for gold was a different form of danger than riding a bicycle on wet cobblestones but just as dangerous.

Of course, it wouldn’t be an Olympics without screwing up simple chances.  An opening ceremony that offended both Christians and people with good taste was helpful if setting a low standard counts.  Skeptics try their hardest to unite with a world that keeps reminding them why global misanthropy remains appealing.  And those who actually care about female athletes shouldn’t let a woman-beater crush competition in an appalling way.

But we try to appreciate the successes, even if just for the novelty of cheering for an activity typically treated as a diversion by day drinkers or twitchy teens.  Sports played casually except for Olympians taking them seriously take on a new dimension.  A brawl between badminton and table tennis players is all about who has home field advantage.  Will it take place in the yard or basement?

Competition on Europe’s schedule meant avoiding spoilers like it’s the end of Breaking Bad.  Do you think the guy in the Members Only jacket shot Walter White?  I spent about a week trying to determine if I already saw any particular swimming race.  Have they moved their arms in this way at this distance?

I can’t believe this garbage pile can even stand. Watch this embodiment of losing have the nerve to splash upon entering the water. You deserve to live with the stain of that three-tenths deduction.  I’m just applying to be an Olympic TV commentator.

Learning about sports is my best event.  The key is to forget.  I probably gleaned fencing’s rules during the previous competition, and poor memory allows for constant discovery.  I wish it were an Olympic event, although it may be and I just forgot.  Anyway, isn’t water polo wild?  It’s like handball where you spend the game not drowning.  As for the army version of the naval sport, handball goalies are the only ones able to withstand the lava area.

There are two types of Americans: fellow country-lovers who stand in their living rooms when the anthem’s played during the medal ceremony and seated commie spies whose real names are Ivan and Svetlana.  Knowing someone from Omaha is faster than someone from Oslo is how countries establish who’s the best.  We’ll even dominate your pinko metric distances.

The most enthusiastic time for flag-waving reminds us that America is great despite flaws and not awful because of them.  Typical pouters could try being proud of their country even after the backstroke is in the rear mirror.  If everyone who says they only feel patriotic during the Olympics had packed during commercials, they could’ve moved by the closing ceremony.  There’s still time.

This is also one of those years that included a July 4 if you feel particularly enthusiastic.    Seeing an old friend to reminisce is all about the defined timeframe.  Being a fan of, say, swimming two weeks every four years works out for lightweights.  I don’t dislike it while I’m not thinking about it, but infrequency spurs intensity.

Maybe I’d tire of ice cream for every breakfast.  But I still think I’d eat as many pints as Van Leeuwen was willing to send if they sponsored me.  The event seems special because it’s rare.  I still think I’d enjoy a monthly Olympics as much.  Then again, Christmas music sounds weird at any other time of year, so keeping on schedule could help maintain appeal.  I’ll miss you, but you have to go away first.

Do you get a gold medal for winning the most gold medals?  I ask existential questions to distract from how sad it feels to be the furthest possible time away from an even more modern pentathlon.  It’s not just the rather occasional nature but what’s happening during them that makes the Olympics thrilling.  I’m a Buffalo sports fan: waiting four years is a blink.

[novelconcepts]

I love your filling in of the moonflower scene. Just the tenderness of it all 🥺

Do you think you might write a short piece about Dani finding the first grey in Jamie‘s hair in the future? Every time I see the gifsets of Jamie‘s (very sexy) grey strands I have to think about Dani‘s possible reaction

Jamie doesn’t tend to notice these things--little changes in her own appearance, little alterations made by the simple passage of time. Her attention, she scoffs when Dani laughs over her failing to pick up on a burr caught in her hair after a trip to the park, is better suited to other things. “World’s big,” she says, tilting her head to allow Dani to comb the remnants of whatever tree she’d walked beneath from her curls. “Why should I go wasting time starin’ at my own damn face?”

“Because it’s a good face,” Dani tells her. She doesn’t add that Jamie’s face, like everything about her, makes more sense than the rest of the world. That nothing about Jamie seems to come out of nowhere--every scrape and scar is accounted for with a story, every wrinkle turned out from the edge of her lips or around her eyes sparked by the familiarity of her frown, the inevitability of her smile. Everything about Jamie can be traced back to the honesty of time spent in the sun, or injuries incurred at work, or letting another year stroke its fingers across her skin. 

She notices the first gray hair maybe five years in. They’re on a camping trip, small tent pitched just upshore of a gently lapping brook; Jamie, crouched beside the water to inspect a turtle, looks up with a grin, and Dani notes a flash of silver at the crown of her head.

She doesn’t point it out. It’s too easy to anticipate Jamie’s amused drawl: “Got a gorgeous beast right here, and you’re worried about my hair?” She tucks the knowledge safely away, entertained by the idea that Jamie is carrying a secret upon her own head and has no idea.

She says nothing, but her fingers seek out the unexpected silver the next time Jamie comes close enough. She trails her hand through rumpled hair, watching the familiar warmth of brown cascade across her skin, pleased to find several more bursts of light wound in among the dark.

“What?” Jamie asks, smile crooking the way it always does when she senses Dani is about to poke fun. “Bein’ a weirdo again.”

“Am not,” Dani replies, and kisses her. 

It becomes a bit of a private game, an amusing turn of events: Jamie, the most naturally-observant human being in the world, has absolutely no idea she’s shot through with unexpected arcs of silver. No idea at all. At first, Dani thinks she’s intentionally ignoring the color leaching out of her hair; a flash of memory spirals back, Judy plucking what she called my little secret out by the strand and holding a finger to her lips as she reached for a box of red dye. Heavy maintenance is very much not Jamie’s speed, but maybe turning her cheek and feigning ignorance achieves the same goal.

A month goes by. A year. They’re turning up on their own time, these pops of colorless strands standing stark against dark waves, and Dani takes it upon herself to brush her fingers across each one she finds. She likes very much the depth they bring to Jamie’s hair, the way the sun catches a little differently when she turns her head. Likes the knowledge that each strand is a stamp of memory--proof of time spent. 

Likes, most of all, that Jamie legitimately seems to have no idea. Jamie, who tugs a black elastic band off her wrist with her teeth, raking the messy tumble out of her eyes, perpetually annoyed with the curls that always seem to evade her hands. Jamie, who spends hours with a book in one hand and Dani’s hair sifting through her fingers, and still has absolutely no clue what’s happening on her own head.

“You’ve never cared, have you?” Dani asks one afternoon, watching Jamie sort through their spectacular collection of cassette tapes, little plastic cases clicking comfortably to break up the quiet. Jamie, cross-legged on the living room rug with Survivor’s Vital Signs in one hand and REO Speedwagon’s Hi Infidelity in the other, raises her eyebrows.

“Seemed silly to go alphabetical while they were multiplying like fuckin’ bunnies, but now we’ve slowed down a little--”

“About looks,” Dani corrects. She’s hanging half off the couch, the tips of her fingers brushing Jamie’s knee. Life has been getting less predictable lately, messier around the edges; she looks into mirrors with breath held tight in her lungs, uncertain of what will look back. Touching Jamie has become less about habit and more a matter of lifeline. “You’ve never cared about how you look. Maybe the only woman I’ve ever known to say that.”

“I care,” Jamie says, with very little defensiveness. It is astonishing sometimes, looking back at the woman she’d met in that manor kitchen, how little defense Jamie seems to have for her these days. Questions are met in good faith, answered in kind, like Jamie knows there’s nothing Dani could ask that would intentionally bear teeth. “Care when I need to.”

“Like when?”

“At the shop,” Jamie says, tossing aside a Paul Simon cassette with a wrinkle of her nose. She finds Pat Benatar instead, sets it in the pile between The Beatles and Blondie. “Always look professional, don’t I?”

“But you don’t like--think about it? What you’ll look like in twenty years? Or fifty?”

“Fifty, Christ.” Jamie rolls back her head, grinning. “Be a hell of a thing, stacking fifty more years on. What d’you think you’ll look like in fifty years, mm?”

Dani doesn’t answer. It’s too early to tell what the smudged face in the mirror might mean--too early to panic--but the idea of fifty years more with Jamie seems terrifyingly unlikely. 

“Anyway.” Seeming to sense her unease, Jamie rocks up onto her knees, awkwardly shifting across the rug to lean against the couch. She braces a hand behind Dani’s head, her eyebrow arched. “You tryin’ to say I don’t pay enough attention to my looks? I don’t scrub up enough for you, is that it?”

Her fingers brush Dani’s ribs, digging in just hard enough to tickle. Dani squirms, laughter burbling out against Jamie’s neck. 

She doesn’t bring it up again, preferring the secret of Jamie’s slowly graying hair held within her own heart. The threads are becoming more insistent as the years drift by, joining tiny lines etched into Jamie’s skin. Her hands, put through so much work, are comfortably worn at knuckle and fingertip. Her smile pulls the skin around her eyes a little tighter as they celebrate eight years--nine--ten. 

She looks good with the extra age, Dani thinks. She wears it all so well, without pausing to prod at herself in the bathroom mirror; if she’s the least bit unnerved by the passage of time, she never lets it show. If Dani didn’t know better, she’d think Jamie never really looks at herself in the mirror at all. 

Too busy looking at me, she thinks, and tries not to ache at the idea that Jamie has forgotten herself beneath the need to keep her attention on what she considers more important things. Like watching for one of Dani’s moods to spike up in public. Like waiting for Dani’s shoulders to hunch against ghosts only she can see. 

Dani doesn’t look into mirrors herself much these days, either--though, every once in a while, a glimpse will sneak up. Just the barest flash of her own face in the passenger mirror of the car, or the idling bathwater. Sometimes--less and less often--the face waiting is even her own. 

It is so her own, those days, that Dani finds herself embracing a new concern. Something odd, something she’s only started to really see in recent memory. 

Jamie is starting to show her age, little by little. Not all at once, not in any way that is strange for a woman creeping into her forties--but the years are there, certainly, stamped gently into her skin. The years are threaded through her hair, these silver pops around which Dani’s hands seem to take on a mind of their own. There’s something wonderful, lively, even sexy about the way time is impacting Jamie--grounding her a little more every year, the natural wearing of all those hours hung like medals around her shoulders. 

Dani, catching sight of herself in the bathtub, can’t help but notice: no one could say the same for her. Not that time is beating away at her, not that time is turning her to stone before she’s ready--but that time appears to be doing nothing at all. Her eyes bear no extra marks, though she has spent just as much time as Jamie laughing, frowning, holding her breath as the world spins beneath her. Her hands look just the same as they had in 1987. 

Her hair is still stubbornly gold.

“Do you think it’s strange?” she whispers one night--not entirely sure if Jamie is even awake, not sure she can even bear the answer Jamie might give. 

“What is?”

She swallows hard, fingers carding gently through Jamie’s hair. The gray seems to gleam in the glow of the streetlamp through their window. 

“That I’m not...that I don’t look...”

Jamie pushes onto one elbow, peering at her in the dark. “You look like you,” she says, when Dani is unable to press on. “You look like Dani.”

She’s trying to answer the other question, Dani understands, the one being asked with greater frequency: am I here? am I me? what if I’m her, deep down, and have been all along? She shakes her head. 

“That’s not...I’m not...”

Jamie waits, brow knit the way it always has when she’s listening. Even when her expression smooths out into sleep, that small divot will remain, etched into her skin like a tattoo memorializing all these late-night conversations. Dani reaches up, presses her thumb gently to it now, her breath hitching when Jamie turns to kiss her palm. 

“It’s nothing,” she says. There’s no way to explain it without making Jamie worry more, worry again, lose yet more sleep watching for signs Dani is slipping away.

Jamie nods slowly, not quite believing, not quite daring to call out the lie. “All right,” she says, and the silver in her hair seems to burn, and Dani loves her enough to close her eyes and pretend everything is okay.

When morning comes, she wards off the thoughts. It’s easier, in daylight. Easier to turn her head, fix her eyes on Jamie, allow the familiarity of Jamie’s hands, smile, kiss sweep the fear back under the bed. The nights are long, the dark heavier than it has any right to be, but in sunlight, Jamie shines. The chain around her neck--the colors in her eyes--the silver shot through her hair. In sunshine, Jamie is the most alive any person can be.

And if she is, so must Dani be--because there is so much love in the way Jamie tips into her arms, so much affection in the sweep of her kiss, in the way she leads them around the kitchen in an impromptu waltz. Jamie, as always, burning away the shadows. 

Jamie, who dips her backward, drinking in her laughter with the biggest grin in the world. Who cuts her eyes to the right. Who tightens her mouth in surprise.

“Hang on,” she says, her hands still braced at Dani’s back and hip. “What the fuck is this?”

Dani’s heart gives a giant leap, her hands clutching at Jamie’s shirt for balance. This is it, she thinks. She can see her now. She can see her, not me, and it’s over, it’s all over, it’s--

“Dani.” Jamie is frowning, easing her back to her feet. She crouches down, gazing into the window of the oven. One hand rises to her head, her brow furrowed.

She sees her, Dani thinks, backing toward the sink. She sees her, and--

“Jesus, how long has my hair looked like that?” 

She blinks, shaking the panic away. “What?”

Jamie is looking at her, almost awestruck, her face clean and younger than usual with the last vestiges of sleep clinging to her eyes. “All that gray. Knew there were one or two, but--”

Dani is laughing. Leaning back against the counter, the mirth spilling out of her, she laughs. Jamie, straightening up with a low groan--her knees pop audibly, her head shaking--looks bewildered.

“Suppose you thought you’d just wait,” she says dryly, “and see if I ever noticed?”

Dani nods, cackling too hard to answer. It’s become so normal, counting the bright bursts amid Jaime’s natural hair color; she’s honestly forgotten Jamie ever didn’t have these silver sparks. Every inch of her, from the crow’s feet etched near her eyes to the tiny scars on her hands, is quite simply home. 

Jamie is plainly trying to look grumpy now, her hand tangling her hair. With Dani giggling like this, unable to catch her breath, she isn’t doing a very good job.

“Been this way a while?”

“Years,” Dani giggles. “Since I proposed. Before.”

Jamie rolls her eyes, slouching the two steps it takes to reach the counter and Dani’s shaking frame. “You,” she says in a mock-irritated tone, “are supposed to help with these things.”

“With what?” Dani brushes the hair back from her eyes. “You’re beautiful. And more than that, you’re...stately.”

“Stately,” Jamie repeats with a snort. “Haven’t heard that one. That’s a Hannah word, if ever there was one.”

They sober, just a little, the appropriate affection offered to memory. Jamie’s head bows against her own, her nose brushing Dani’s lightly. 

“I like it,” Dani says, her voice soft. “I like watching it happen. Like growing old...”

She trails off. She isn’t growing old, is the thing. Isn’t changing. Is as incontrovertible as a lake set into ancient grounds. She is not growing old at all.

Jamie’s fingers curl around her chin, tipping her head back. “Growing old together,” she says, firmly. Not denial, exactly--just certainty. Jamie, imposing her will on a world that tries so hard to have its own way with them both. 

“Growing old together,” Dani repeats, and even if it isn’t true in the strictest sense--even if it doesn’t look like it should--she knows Jamie believes it. Knows Jamie will fight tooth and nail to make the universe bend around her love. 

There are things, Jamie believes, that are natural. Organic. Exactly as they should be. There are things that can’t be changed by dreams, whims, magic spells. 

They will grow old together. That is, Jamie believes, the way the world works. The way it has always been and will always be. Jamie’s hair grows silver. Jamie’s skin etches with lines. Jamie’s hands are solid in her own, though she sometimes bends her fingers with a grimace, rubs her wrists when the weather angles toward snow. 

They will grow old together. For Jamie, there is simply no other consideration to be made.

“I like it,” Dani repeats, fingering the nearest strand of gray. “It’s distinguished.”

Jamie, shaking her head, is grinning as she leans in for a kiss.

[theanticool]

Women’s Olympic Boxing Preview for Day 4

I’ll talk about the guys when they get to the semis though I’ll say keep an eye out for Pat McCormack, Sewonrets Quincy Okazawa, and Delante Johnson in the men’s welterweight tonight. Plus there’s heavyweight and there’s a Peruvian competing! But here’s a barebones preview on what’s going on tonight with the women.

Anyway, there’s two women’s divisions in action tonight: Lightweight (57-60 KG) and Welterweight (64-69 KG).

Starting with women’s lightweight, it’s the first day of their tournament so we’re going to see the Round of 32. There are a number of storylines heading into this one overall. For example, 26 year old Esmeralda Falcon will be the first woman to represent Mexico in the Olympics for boxing. In the first lightweight fight of the night, she’ll be fighting Italy’s Rebecca Nicoli. There are two big names (imo) competing in the LW round of 32 though. One is the 20 year old Caroline Dubois, sister of heavyweight contender Daniel Dubois. She looked fantastic in the qualifiers, taking out 2016 bronze medalist Mira Potkonen, en route to taking 2nd place. Caroline is a serious medal contender here for Great Britain.

The other big match up to be on the lookout for is the match between 2016 bronze medalist Mira Potkonen (Finland) and professional world champion (IBF) Maiva Hamadouche (France). As far as I know, Hamadouche is the only world champion to have made it this far into the Olympic Games (though she isn’t the only pro). It’s not a clear cut thing that she’ll win as she lost in the qualifier in one sided fashion to Kellie Harrington (gold favorite). Either way, this is the most interesting match up of this round imo.

Next up we have women’s welterweight. It’s a division I’m much less familiar with though as there’s a lot of youth in it. But it’s at the round of 16, so that’s exciting. Winners from tonight will be fighting for a medal! From an American standpoint, the one to watch is Oshae Jones. She’s a PanAm gold medalist who’ll be facing off with Brianna Cruz, one of the 2 women representing Mexico. To round of North America, Myriam Da Silva of Canada will also be fighting tonight against the Dominican Republic’s Maria Moronta. As for who is ranked #1, that is Busenaz Surmeneli of Turkey. Former gold medalist at the AIBA world championships and the favorite here. She faces Poland’s Karolina Koszewska. Others worth keeping an eye on are Taipei’s Chen Nien-chin, India’s Lovlina Borgohain, China’s Gu Hong, and Italy’s Angela Carini.

[eerythingisshaka]

Ficmas Day #18 “Feeling of Christmas”

[Ben Hargreeves x Reader]

Word Count: 1.6k

“Whoa, look!  Look at them over there!”  You’re sitting on a brick wall watching passersby in a Winter Wonderland park decked out with lights, trees, fake snow, and plenty of games and concessions.

Ben looks in the direction you are pointing.  “Are you kidding me?  No way is that grown man sitting on Santa’s lap like that.  Is he drunk?”

You shrug.  “I don’t know what the alcohol content of the eggnog bombs are but I would say yes.”

Security approaches the man to escort him away as he stumbles and curses them out.  You and Ben laugh in disbelief.

“I never understood why people take the holiday to act out.  Never fails!”  Ben exclaims, hopping off the wall to walk through the front arch of the wonderland.  

You follow him closely behind.  “So what do you wanna do?   Carnival games?  The spinning cup ride?”  You run your hand through his arm out of excitement, making him jump.  “Ooh!  Let’s go on the ice rink!”

Ben stammers nervously.  “Wh-what’s the point, you know?  We can’t actually skate on it.”

You look at him with a look of studious disappointment.  “Ben Hargreeves, remember what I said about imagination?”

He sighs, looking through his brain for the answer.  “An idle spirit’s home is in imagination.”

You clap your hands in approval.  “Exactly!  So long as we roam this Earth among the living, imagination fuels us to be able to truly live again!”

You dart across the lot as Ben follows behind.  Running through people always thrilled you; feeling their presence for a short blip of time gives you high that almost makes you grateful to be dead.

When you make it to the ice, you find Ben already standing in the middle of it, smiling with pride.

“I hate when you teleport like that!”  you say in a huff as you step out on the ice dramatically.  You slide your feet across the surface as if you’re gliding on blades, arching your back and stretching your arms wide.  

Ben chuckles, shaking his head at your antics.  “What are you doing lady?”

You give a curtsy and stand like a ballet dancer.  “I am figure skater Maxwell Admarskovsky.”

“Adam what?  Who is that?”

“It is I!  Whom I have made up but follow me, stop interrupting,”  you say quickly, dropping your indistinguishable foreign accent.  

“As a gold medal winning ice skater, I will now bring my partner, Ben Yoganrovin-”

“Why is everyone semi-Russian?” Ben asks.

“Because we are champions on zeh ice!”  you proclaim.

“Ok, that is definitely not Russian, but please, continue.” 

You nod humbly.  “My partner Ben will now demonstrate a triple axel loop with a Biellmann spin, while finishing me off in a death spiral.”

Ben blinks at you a few times.  “How do you know all this stuff?”

You shrug, spinning on your tip toes like a figure in a music box.  “I used to like watching them during the Olympics but don’t test me if anything I just said was possible.  Come on and try Ben!”

Ben fidgets with his jacket, looking at the crowd around him.  You drop your arms incredulously.  

“I know you aren’t calling yourself nervous because folks are around here?   We are ghosts!  They literally cannot see us!”

“I know, but…”  he looks at you but not for long.  “...it’s embarrassing.”

“I’m already doing it!  Come on!”  You go up to him to grab his hands but slip right there.  “Oh sorry, I always forget.  Well I’m here anyway, just try.”

You kick a leg up and leap across the ice, waiting for Ben to emulate.  He does a small jump with less finesse, but passable for his state of being.

“Good job!  Again!”  

As you both leap and slide along the ice, Ben loosens up more and more, laughing at his mistakes and your antics.  The fun seems to last for ages until the lights on the rink shut off.

“Whoa, is it closing time already?”  you ask, noticing for the first time that the crowd is long gone.  

Ben looks about slightly disappointed.  “Damn, I guess so.  Now what do we do?”  

You and Ben walk out of the winter wonderland, down a residential area decorated with lights.  

“God, what I would do to get in on that dinner.”  You both look through a window at someone’s Christmas dinner complete with dessert and imagine salivating over a plate, when an idea pops into your head.

“Ben...I have imagined another idea.”  You run across the street to an apartment complex before Ben can even ask what.  

“Where'd you go?”  He asks as he appears through the front door.  You pop out of an apartment beaming.  

“I’m going to possess someone!”  you exclaim.

“What?  Why?  Can you even do that?”  

You shrug.  “I’ve tried before but I feel like it’s not a big risk, right?  At worst, the person pukes and passes out and wakes up thinking they drank too much.  No one dies obviously, so-”

Ben shakes his head, walking back to the front door.  “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Ben! Ben!  Wait, just listen.  Don’t you want to taste?  And smell again? Touch!”  you attempt to grab his arm, but again you go right through him.  

“Stop doing that,”  he says dejectedly.  He turns back to you, thinking.  “If we go in there and anything goes wrong-”

“We are out!  I won’t try but once!”

Peeking your head through the apartment door, you see a middle aged Black woman on her couch, eating some Russell Stovers and watching a Peanuts cartoon.  

You shrug.  “Eh, she not bad looking.  I’ll take it!”  You lean down, facing her as you concentrate on her.

“Be careful.  And remember, we can’t possess them for long,” Ben says.

“I know,” you reply, closing your eyes as you place your hand on top of hers, the woman’s body jolts.

“Ok here we go.”  You inch more of yourself into her as you feel the pressure of her aura trying to keep you out, but you fight it as much as you can.  The woman is strong but you wouldn’t let your mission fail, as you are fully enveloped by her.

The woman’s eyes blink open as you look through them, seeing her hands and legs, reaching across the upholstery of her couch.

“Ben…” you say.

But you don’t get an answer.  You can’t see him either.  As you get up you say his name louder but nothing answers.  

“I can’t believe this,”  you say as you walk to the front door, banging your foot hard against it as you forget you can’t go through walls in this form anymore.  Suddenly a knock raps on the door.

You freeze, unsure if this is someone the woman knows or if they are investigating the noise you made.  

“It’s Ben!”  you hear a whisper through the door, but it doesn’t sound like Ben.  

“Ben who?”  you ask back.

“Hargreeves!  Just open up before someone sees!”  

You run to the door and open it to see an Asian man standing before you with salt and pepper hair but still smooth skin.  

“You actually found an Asian dude to possess!  Awesome!”  

Ben walks in, closing the door after him.  “I know!  I almost possessed his grandson, but I think he’s a kid still so...not bad?”

You shake your head.  “Not bad at all!”

He rubs on his chest then his hair, getting used to the body he is in.  “This feels weird though, right?” 

You’re in the fridge, pulling out some leftover pizza.  “But so good!  I’m going to fuck up these slices!” 

After heating up the pizza, you and Ben marvel over the taste of the cheese and tomato sauce for the first time since being ghosts, moaning over it’s deliciousness.  

“My God!  I don’t know if this is even good pizza, but anything tastes good when it’s been so long,”  Ben says emphatically, rubbing his stomach in satisfaction.

“I know, ugh so good!”  you reach across to grab Ben’s hand.  Feeling actual warm skin and bone made you and him jump back disturbed by the sensation.

“Uh...huh,” Ben says slowly, calculating what just happened.

“Yeah…” you say back.  “I’m going to do it again.”  You reach slower this time so he’s aware, caressing his wrist with your fingertips.  Ben then takes your hand in his, holding it like a prince.  

You both go quiet, soaking in what it means to feel human interaction with one another.  You never knew each other before death and this is the closest you have ever been to one another outside of just spending time.  

You release your hand from his as you fan yourself.  Your body grew hotter with every passing minute.

“Are you ok?  Is it time we leave?”  Ben asks in concern of you.

You nod.  “It must be, I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Fine.  This was fun though.  I’m glad you decided this with me, convinced me.”

You smile weakly.  “It was.  Best Christmas I’ve had in awhile.”

“Before we exorcise ourselves, can I do just one thing?”

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

Ben looks at you, stepping forward slowly.  You almost inch out of his way but he takes you by the hands again, bringing his face closer to yours.  It doesn’t take long to figure out what’s happening and when your lips meet you inhale sharply as the heart you have borrowed skips in your chest.  You hold his hands tightly, unaware of what this kiss means to you both except that it feels so good and it’s from a soul you trust.  

As you both break apart, you share unspoken words between breaths.  It goes without saying how electric the action was but it is also fleeting.

“With that,” Ben starts, “I think it’s time we go.”

“See you on the other side.”

[itsmaddienotmaddy]

"help them get their psycho joy and relentlessness and FUN back." I'm a very casual fan, but wasn't this a problem at the Olympics too? What do u think is causing this? Coaching/the staff? Not the right mix of players? Internal issues among the players? The weight of everything that was 2020/2021? Sorry if you've already given your theories on all of this but I'm curious. I've got my issues w/ the team but I still want them to win/dominate/be great.

I didn’t think I had theories and then I read this ask and it turns out that I DO.

First and foremost, the team is human. No team is going to win every single game. No team is going to be number one always and forever. We’ve just been in this absolute tear for a while so it has been weird to watch the US team be less than.

As for why? Not to blame everything on the state of the world but I definitely think it’s the weight of everything in 2020/2021. And the US is not the only team affected. I think England’s looked not great. France is definitely a mess. Australia, despite all their individual talent hasn’t been performing. Hell, we were all like, WOW, Sweden is amazing. And then they completely ran out of steam by the gold medal match. And even Canada. They won gold, completely deservedly so. But…. How much have they converted beyond PKs?? Everyone is struggling.

And of course they are. COVID messed everything up. Back to the US, you’ve got aging players (namely Pinoe) trying their best to stay fit and in it, and that’s hard. You’ve got Alex who absolutely hasn’t been the same since she’s had Charlie. Having a baby is not a career ending thing by any means, but every woman is different and she could be one that just needs more time. Christen has long needed a break and it’s good she’s getting it. Same with Crystal. And tbh, Tobin could use one that is not forced by injury. Though I do think being at Arsenal will help her tremendously.

ANYWAY. Add on all the other shit they’re dealing with. The lawsuit. The social justice work many players are committed to. In women’s sports it’s apparently not good enough for them to just perform well. They have to save the world too. It’s almost expected of them, though the same idea is not forced upon male athletes.

AND. Now add on all the shit in the NWSL. You know how I would be doing if I were going through that? NOT WELL. That’s for damn sure.

For the theories that players are having internal issues and placing blame on coaching. I’m hesitant to place a huge portion of blame on that, but I would absolutely not rule those out.

My galaxy brain solutions for them? A lot is what we’re all thinking. Bring in youth, up the ante, get a little uncomfortable. But at the same time, I think there needs to be a large team refocus on who they are and who they want to be going forward. Fuck. Have a camp where they don’t have games. Have a National Team retreat. Have a player lead camp. It sounds silly but my entire life, the best teams I was on had things like this. Remove yourself from the sport and become a team in all aspects. You learn about your teammates and you can bond in things beyond soccer.

And lastly, I hope every single player is taking care of and prioritizing their mental health. A lot of them have talked about their own sports psychologists recently (Lynn and Lindsey) and I think that is so so so important.

[zigtheeortega]

unrequited [part 2]

✿ pairing: bryce x mc

✿ word count: 3941

✿ tags: @senatorraines​ ; @nickyvalentinos​ ; @violinet​ ; @messofakind​ ; @roguemal​ ; @adrixnrxines​ ; @t-yril​ ; @bobbysmckenzie​ ; @luckyferrero​ ; @litgpop​ ; @brycelahelas​

✿ author’s note: i didn’t really think i’d be writing a part two, but from the encouragement from my friends, and the initial idea and push from @diamondsless​, i thought i’d write it and dedicate it to her as a birthday gift! happy birthday to one of the sweetest souls in this fandom who never ceases to amaze me with her writing and her acts of kindness. i hope you have an incredible day and that this fic is a pick-me-up, even though it’s angst.

also, thank you to the asexies for reading and giving me ideas and criticisms. y’all are my ride or dies! i love y’all so much. btw, this takes place a couple days after part 1, which you should probably read before this. anyways, i hope you enjoy! (let me know if i should do a part 3)

––––

Bryce’s words wrapped around her heart like the tendrils of a wild plant, squeezing until the pain in her chest was too much to bear. The vines of his anger and despair snaked up to her throat, clenching her windpipe, silencing her when she saw his face in the hallways of the hospital.

When she got a glimpse of his smile across the cafeteria or in passing in the hall, the ghost of Bryce’s shattered expression clouded her mind, and she flinched every single time.

She caught herself staring at the pads of her fingers too often during the passing days, the vivid memory of the way he deflected from her touch burned into her memory. 

It played on loop, torturing her from the moment she stepped onto the grounds of Edenbrook, to the moment she closed her eyes at night. But even then, she rarely found solace in her dreams, as they usually took no definable form, the indiscernible feelings of desperation and agony gripping her even in the dream realm. 

The roommate group chat exploded throughout her last morning shift of the week, last minute details of an intern-attending party filling her lock screen. Her thoughts had been focused solely on the conversation in the closet, so much so that she lost track of the days following and the party had completely slipped her mind.

The weekend had come before she realized it, a welcome distraction from the ghost of Bryce’s pained expression.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the feeling of seeing Bryce across the room with someone else. He’d strolled into the room, smooth and relaxed as usual, with his arm around a beautiful woman.

She hadn’t expected seeing him with someone else to elicit such a visceral reaction, but it did.

She clenched the solo cup, crumpling the plastic until the sides split, and it took Sienna calling her name to bring her to. The cheap red wine dripped down her arms, staining the forearms of her henley top.

It was her favorite, because it was his favorite.

The wine dripped onto her jeans, blotches of red covering her thighs. Her friends were staring, but Sienna had already jumped into action, gently taking the cup from her hands.

The sudden change of volume had made its way to the doorway, and Bryce locked eyes with her, his dark embers burning through her own.

Sienna guided her towards the hallway to Spencer’s bedroom, the silence between them full of knowing.

Once she was in her room, Sienna hugged her softly. “I’m so sorry, Spence. I had no clue he was bringing her. If I knew, I would’ve warned you.”

“I know. You don’t have to apologize,” she smiled weakly, before hesitating. “Who is she?” Did she even want to know?

“Just some girl he met on Tinder,” she said reassuringly. “They barely know each other.”

Had he rebounded so quickly for his own gratification? Or to make her jealous?

“It’ll be okay,” Sienna smiled warmly, and Spencer mirrored it willingly. Sienna was her sunshine, a consistent ray of light through her worst days.

Sienna waited until she was out of her wine stained clothes before leaving with them, insisting that they were still salvageable.

Spencer slipped on her favorite party outfit from their first housewarming party, the one she wore before she first felt him bucking beneath her within the confines of her bedroom.

If he wanted to play a game, she could play, too.

It was childish, but she had to know if he was truly moving on, or if he had come with a date solely to torture her.

She emerged from her room, heart pounding, purse over her shoulder. They were low on alcohol anyways, and the night had barely begun. She slipped out of the front door undetected, so she’d have time to rehearse what she wanted to say to him on the way to the liquor store down the street.

What could she even say to him that would have any substance? The damage she left was irreversible in her eyes. Even if he forgave her, he’d always remember the times he was her last priority.

It should have taken her a couple of minutes to buy the cheap liquor and chasers, but as she ambled through the aisles, a memory of her and Bryce volunteering to restock the alcohol to keep the party going flitted through her mind.

Behind the rack of red wine, he stole a kiss from her lips, her tinted lip gloss glimmering on the warm bronze of his own. 

“Your lips look like a medal,” she giggled, rubbing her thumb across his bottom lip.

“Hopefully you mean gold because you know I’m not third place material,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss her again.

His words haunted her.

It was a premonition, although she thought nothing of it at the time.

She’d done nothing but push him away, making him an afterthought that was saved for the days she was feeling particularly lonely. She couldn’t help but feel guilty for thinking it was normal to fool around with three separate men with zero repercussion.

It was only a matter of time before they became tired with the game she was playing. She never intended to toy with their emotions, but she had wounded each of them in some way.

She twisted the knife each time she shared an intimate moment, kiss, embrace, with either of them, and pretended like it hadn’t happened.

She gripped the large paper bag, and trudged back towards the apartment, the crisp Boston air chilling her exposed skin.

She rounded the corner, bumping straight into Bryce. The bag slipped from her hands, crashing onto the pavement, the bottles of wine, vodka, and tequila spilling across the concrete. It splashed onto her legs, soaking through her jeans and shoes.

“For fucks sake,” she huffed, shaking off the droplets that somehow managed to land on her arms. “I just bought those.”

If she wasn’t so frustrated, she would’ve been a stammering mess. She met his gaze, a grimace contorting his features. He shook his leg, flicking off his alcohol-soaked shoes.

“Sorry, Spence. I thought you might need some help carrying them up, but I guess I made it worse,” he chuckled. “Here, let’s go back, and you show me exactly what you got. I’ll buy.”

“Yeah, I’d hope so. I can’t go back empty handed,” she sighed, reaching down to pick up the brown bag, now dripping maroon, tossing the larger glass pieces into it.

“Hey, don’t pick up the glass. I’d hate to have to patch you up –”

“Why did you follow me out here, Bryce? Really?” She wheeled on him, practically snarling. Her own voice sounded foreign. She’d never spoken to Bryce with that tone before.

His brows furrowed, his friendliness disappearing, replaced with a cold expression that he saved for especially bad days. Bryce Lahela hated virtually no one. She might’ve been the first.

“As soon as I walked in, you bolted. I came out here to check on you.”

“You wanted to come talk to me when you can barely look at me?”

His eyes narrowed to nearly a squint. “I knew you couldn’t keep it from your roomies. Who’d you tell?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’ll get to the question. Who’d you tell?”

“I didn’t tell anyone –”

“That’s bullshit, Spencer.”

“They have brains, Bryce,” she said incredulously. “You’ve blatantly been acting differently towards me. You think our friends – who have MDs by the way – are dumb enough to overlook that major detail?”

He pressed a hand over his mouth and dragged down, before gesturing wildly. “I wanted some space! Is that too much to ask?”

“No. It’s not,” she said. “But you can’t expect to treat me differently and expect our friends not to put two and two together. You can’t have the best of both worlds.”

She turned away, speed walking down the empty street, goosebumps raised on her skin, the chilly wind freezing her wet pant legs.

“Whoa, hold on, time out,” he called, jogging alongside her. “You’re telling me that I can’t have the best of both worlds? You’re one to talk.”

“You haven’t even spoken to me since that day,” she said vaguely, ignoring her own hypocrisy.

“Yeah, because I wanted space. I still don’t get why that’s too much to ask of you,” he said, every word tinged with disbelief.

She had no reason to be upset with him. But the guilt and the anger and the jealousy had consumed her. She knew she wasn’t being fair, but she couldn’t help but argue with him.

“Again, It’s not a lot to ask. But why did you go out of your way to bring someone to my home?” She said, staring straight ahead, refusing to watch his face. She was instigating him, but she couldn’t stop herself. 

“I’m seeing someone, and I thought I’d introduce her to my friends. It’s not that hard to understand.”

“Bryce, it’s been four fucking days since you told me you wanted to move on,” she gestured wildly. “I didn’t think you’d move on that fast, much less try to introduce me to her!”

“I get it. You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, Bryce, I’m just frustrated!” she cried, stopping abruptly in front of the store.

“Oh so you’re allowed to get frustrated with me because I’m trying to move on, but I’m not allowed to be upset that you’re yelling at me for trying to move on?”

“No, because I know what you’re trying to do here Bryce. You didn’t come here to move on, you came here to try to make me jealous.”

“So you admit that you’re jealous.”

“No, I’m saying you’re trying to make me jealous.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth. That’s not what I came here for, but I’m glad it’s getting under your skin,” Bryce scoffed, rolling his eyes.

They stood in a tense silence, outside of the liquor store, nothing but the sound of the wind whooshing past the corner of the brick wall between them.

“What did you come to this party for then, huh? You wanted to get away from me. You wanted some distance. So you came to my home with… with her –” she spat, pointing a finger into his chest, “– and expected me not to be upset?”

“God, Spencer, do you really only ever think of yourself?” He stomped to the front door of the store, and opened it, angrily gesturing for her to walk in.

“Yeah, maybe bringing her here was a mistake. But I’m trying to move on. You can’t try to hold me back because you can’t decide if you want me or not.”

The wind was knocked out of her, the familiar feeling of a restricted windpipe wrapping around her like a worn sweater. This time, she fought through it.

Bryce trudged to the back of the store, near the tall wine racks – the ones that she could never reach on the top shelf, but he’d always grab it for her and tease her for it.

“You know I’ve thought about you every second since you pulled me into that closet, right? I’ve been wracked with guilt and anger towards myself, and you’re not to blame for that at all,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes, but she willed them away. She didn’t want his sympathy. “I’ve spent every day mulling over every interaction we’ve ever had and I’ve picked apart every single thing I can remember that I’ve said to you.”

“You don’t think I’ve done the same thing, Spencer? I wondered why nothing I’d ever said got your attention. If I made you laugh, did you think twice about it?”

“Yes, I did.” she blinked tears back. “I just didn’t think of you enough. And I’m sorry. I know nothing I can say will take away how deeply I’ve hurt you, but you can’t just try to get back at me so I can feel the same way you did.”

He was dumbfounded. He watched her face, his mouth parted. 

“I know my pain right now is nothing in comparison to what you feel, and I’d never ever try to make this about me. But I’m hurting, and I’m trying to move on, too. You bringing her here isn’t doing me any favors.”

He reached out, grazing the pads of his fingers on her jaw.

She flinched before she even realized it. “I’m sorry Bryce. I don’t think this is a good idea. Your date is waiting back at my apartment, and we need to get back. I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting,” she chuckled weakly, eyes on the ground.

“Spencer… I…”

She turned to the bottles behind her, pretending to browse while she furiously blinked the tears away. She turned back, a smile on her face. “Got the drinks! You can hold them though. I know how much your party god status means to you.”

He watched her, eyebrows knitted together, guilt laced through his features. He was visibly holding back, his inner turmoil plain to see.

They were nearly silent on the way back, the weight of their situation keeping them from their candid nature.

She was used to Bryce wearing his heart on his sleeve, his unshakeable confidence front and center. His familiar grin and spontaneity were stripped down, replaced with an expression she could only describe as uncertain.

They walked back into the packed apartment, a bass boosted song reverberating through the borrowed speakers. Her roommates, the rest of the second years, and the interns greeted them warmly, a few people swarming Bryce and her as they unloaded the bags of alcohol.

People she barely recognized asked her to take shots, and she gladly accepted. Normally, she’d pace herself, but after seeing Bryce return to the woman’s side, she wanted to forget the entire night.

A couple shots of tequila later, Spencer was seated on the couch, giggling uncontrollably at a joke she barely heard.

Sienna scooted closer to her, leaning into her ear to whisper. “Don’t react to what I’m about to say.”

She nodded, concentrating hard on keeping a straight face. “Bryce keeps looking at you from the balcony. He’s barely paid attention to his date since you got back.”

She turned, catching him just as he glanced away from her. He wrapped his arm around his date’s waist, his fingers slipping just enough under her fabric to make her bite her lip…

Spencer’s stomach lurched, and she leapt up from the couch, worsening the nausea. “I’m about to throw up, Sienna,” she slurred, grabbing Sienna’s arm.

She guided her quickly, safely to her bedroom, before holding her hair back as she emptied her stomach, the tequila burning just as bad coming up as it did going down.

She faded in and out of consciousness, barely registering Sienna helping her shower and get in bed. She willed herself to remember her kindness and vowed she’d make it up to her when she sobered up.

She laid in bed, the ceiling spinning, her body floating, as she tried desperately to sleep. But she couldn’t, because she knew that Bryce was fifty feet away. With someone else.

She cuddled up to her pillow, imagining Bryce’s warm torso between her arms instead of the cool, firm memory foam of the pillow. She’d nearly succumbed to sleep before she heard a soft knock on her door.

“Hey, Spence, you good in there?”

“Yeah,” she managed, her heart thundering in her chest, partially because she was caught off guard, and because she wasn’t ready to face him again.

“Can I come in for a sec?”

“Sure.” She blurted without a second thought. When she was drunk her heart had a mind of its own. She knew damn well she wasn’t equipped for another emotionally draining conversation, but her heart was itching to be broken again.

The door creaked open, and he stepped in timidly, looking out of place. Normally, he ambled into a new place, not caring if it was a room full of strangers or his closest friends – his aura of confidence was never shaken.

He was nervous.

She tried to sit up, but plopped back against her pillow, groaning. He crossed the room to her bed, but stopped at the foot of it. “You good?”

“Yeah, I just feel like an idiot for drinking this much,” she said slowly, concentrating on trying not to sound as plastered as she felt.

“You’ve never been able to handle your liquor,” he smiled softly, fondly even.

She shook her head, causing the room to spin a little faster than before. “I’d trade a vital organ to be able to get drunk without the hangover.”

“How vital we talking?” His smile stretched into a grin, and he sat on the bed, resting a hand on the comforter. She couldn’t tell if he purposefully touched her, but the weight of his hand on her ankle grounded her nonetheless, and her vertigo subsided.

“With how shitty I feel right now, I’d trade my heart,” she said, trying to prop herself up on her elbows. Another wave of nausea hit her as soon as it left, and her stomach churned.

She threw the covers back, and tripped out of bed, face planting onto her cold floor. She heard him call out to her, but she couldn’t even decipher the words. She slapped her hand over her mouth, desperately trying to army crawl to the bathroom.

She felt his warm arms around her torso, picking her up gently and carrying her to the toilet. While she gagged uncontrollably, the disgusting sounds echoing off of the porcelain, he laced his fingers into her hair, gathering it into one hand.

“Here, give me that,” he said, pulling the hair tie off of her wrist, before using his fingers to comb through her thick locks, brushing her hair back into a loose ponytail, twisting the tie until it held firm.

After she was done, she wiped her face off, and peered up at him. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Spence.” He searched her face like he was scrutinizing her, so she broke away first, trying to stand up.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her to her feet. Familiarity washed over her, and she cackled when she put the pieces together.

“God, remember when we hooked up in the shower? You fucked me senseless and the steam made my legs so weak that you had to carry me out just like this.”

He tensed around her, but she barely noticed. “I miss that,” she breathed, leaning into his frame.

She was too far gone to think about the consequences of her words.

He tucked her into bed wordlessly, his warm expression gone, replaced with the increasingly frequent dubious one.

“You think you’ll be okay in here?”

“Do you have to get back to your date?”

He hesitated, long enough that Spencer kept talking. “She’s really pretty, you know. Maybe a little out of your league, Lahela. You look hot together, but she’s just so gorgeous –”

“She left. I paid for her cab home.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to check on you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“The half bottle of tequila in your toilet says otherwise, Spence.”

Silence ensued again, the apartment eerily quiet. “Is everyone gone?” She whispered. She didn’t know why she whispered.

“Yeah. It’s 4 a.m.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, you’ve been in here a while.”

“So have you.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You could’ve left with everyone else. Or with your date. Why’d you come in here?” She asked before thinking. Again.

He turned towards the door, his back to her. He stood in place for a few seconds, frozen, before walking to the door, arm outstretched to grab the knob. “I’ll see you around, Spence –”

“Please, Bryce, wait –” She shot up, reaching for him.

He glanced back at her, refusing to meet her eye.

Her throat burned, alcohol fueling her grief. “I know I’m just talking out of my ass and saying shit that I haven’t carefully thought out. And I know that I’m self aware, but it still doesn’t stop me from embarrassing myself. But I know if I don’t say this right now I’ll probably never have the courage when I’m sober.”

He swivelled around, and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms, trying hard to look relaxed, but the tension in his body made him look rigid and uneasy.

She closed her eyes tight, balling her hands up into fists, gripping her sheets. “I know I won’t remember this tomorrow, and I’m not even sure any of this is happening or if this is a hallucination, but I’m gonna word vomit my feelings.

“I think I love you, Bryce.”

She heard his breath hitch, but she squeezed her eyes tighter. She didn’t dare look.

“I’ve spent so much time chasing after guys who pushed me away. Maybe it’s the chase that I liked so much. I don’t know. But being with you was so easy. And comforting. Like a really good book that you’ve read a thousand times. Or your mom’s chicken soup when you’re sick.

“We never talked about it because I was scared I’d have to commit. And that’s so wrong of me. Granted, I thought you were afraid of commitment, too. I put it off forever and just danced between everyone who gave me attention. I didn’t even consider anyone’s feelings but my own.

“But the moments we had together are my favorite memories of my first year in Boston. I wouldn’t trade those for the world. You went out of your way to make me feel better at my lowest points. And that’s more than I can say for who I was giving the most attention to. I was chasing after something unattainable, when you were right in front of me.”

The tears squeezed out of her firmly shut lids, and she wiped them away quickly, quietly sniffling. “I’m so fucking sorry, Bryce. I can’t say it enough. I know I blew it, but I hope you give me a second chance as friends.”

She pulled the comforter up to her face, sobbing quietly into the thick fabric. She took a shaky breath, and laid down, curling up in a ball. “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t think I’ll remember this.”

The mix of crying, vomiting, and drinking wore her out so much that she was out before Bryce could curate a response.

Throughout her whole speech, he’d leaned up against the wall, frozen as he listened to her spill her feelings and say everything he wanted to hear. But he’d blown it, too. He’d hurt her so deeply, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Her soft snoring filled the room, and he mentally kicked himself for not saying anything sooner. “I think I love you, too, Spence,” he whispered, before slipping out the door into the night.

––––

[searchingwardrobes]

Happy birthday, @galadriel26​ ! Okay, so your birthday is tomorrow, but I was worried I wouldn’t have a chance to post this. Besides, I figured you wouldn’t mind an early present.

I did something different for you, my dear. Unlike my other birthday fics, this isn’t based on a song. I started the way I always do, asking myself what the birthday girl likes, and I just kept thinking of how much you love my Journey to Gold verse and how we commiserated during the 2018 Olympics over our love for Virtue and Moir. I honestly don’t know if there ever would have been a part two if not for you. So, without further ado, here is another little moment between pairs figure skaters Emma and Killian Jones just for @galadriel26​. And look at the picset I made for you, too! It’s pretty, if I do say so myself.

For those of you not familiar with this verse, it’s written more as a series of moments than a chronological fic. You may need to read part one and two for this to make sense. However, the whole thing is pretty short. You can read it on Ao3.

Rating: T (for parts one and two more so than this one)

Words: 1k

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @let-it-raines​ @kmomof4  @profdanglaisstuff@welllpthisishappening @xhookswenchx @teamhook @bethacaciakay @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @tiganasummertree @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @distant-rose @shireness-says @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @hollyethecurious @stahlop @scientificapricot @branlovestowrite

Chapter Three: Where Everyone Agrees Killian is an Idiot

“What do you mean, we aren’t going to Beijing!”

Emma just rolls her eyes and skates towards the boards, but Killian’s having none of it. He skates after her, turning her around with a gentle tug to her elbow.

“You want to retire?” he asks, searching her eyes.

She yanks her arm out of his grip. “I didn’t say anything about retiring, just that we can’t compete in Beijing.”

“Oh, so this is a decision you made all by yourself, for both of us? What about where we’re a team? Don’t I have a say in this?”

Emma tilts her chin and flicks her ponytail off her shoulder. “In this case, no.”

He shakes his head in frustration. “I don’t understand. What happened to all those conversations about going out our way? About defending our gold medal? About showing the world that pushing thirty is no big deal?”

Despite her frustration with him, a smile teases the corner of her mouth. “I’m pushing thirty, old man, you’ve skated right past it.”

“Yet I’ve still retained my youthful glow,” he flirts, wrapping his arms around her. “We’ve always made quite the team, love, and our new program for this season is going to be epic.”

“Killian, haven’t you noticed how sluggish I am? How I suddenly can’t remember the choreography?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You just had that stomach bug. Give yourself some time.”

Emma growls and shoves at his chest with both hands. “Killian Jones, you are an idiot!”

No amount of cajoling will keep his wife on the ice now. She stomps to the women’s locker room without even removing her skates, cursing him under her breath. Killian looks in utter confusion at Ingrid.

“What was that all about?”

“I’m sorry, what?” she asks distractedly, looking up from her cell phone.

Has every woman in his life gone completely insane? “Were you even noticing her meltdown, coach?”

Ingrid shrugs, “You two have skated and fought with equal passion since Emma was nine years old. I’ve learned to tune it out.” She pats Killian on the shoulder. “But you are an idiot.”

*********************************************************

Killian spends some time on the ice so he can get his head on straight before he heads home. He loves skating, but he loves Emma more. More than any gold medal or competition. It isn’t missing the 2022 games that’s bothering him, he realizes, it’s that he thought he and his wife were on the same page. Emma is headstrong and opinionated, but they’ve still always made decisions as a team. Even before they were a couple. How could she just drop this on him like a command? Like it wasn’t even a conversation?

Muscles sore and heart heavy, he finally heads home when stars are already twinkling in the sky. He tosses his gym bag in the back of his car before sliding behind the driver’s seat. Emma had been so angry, her mother had driven her home. It irks him that Ingrid seems to know something he doesn’t, something that apparently makes him an idiot.

When he gets home, he drops his keys in the catch-all at the door, and calls out to Emma, but it’s quiet and dark in the house. He goes upstairs and peeks into their bedroom to find Emma curled up in bed, snoring softly. He frowns, thinking back to her words earlier at the rink. She has been tired, going to bed earlier than normal. Could something be wrong? Surely she would have said something if she’d seen a doctor.

He closes the door softly behind him, not wanting to disturb her. He’s starving, so he goes to the kitchen to scrounge up something for dinner. He and Emma usually cook together every night, though lately she hasn’t had much of an appetite. He pauses in the kitchen doorway as the thought slams into him. Now he’s even more worried about his wife’s health.

Killian’s just about to pick up his cell phone and call Ingrid demanding answers, when he notices a note on the countertop in Emma’s handwriting: “Look in the oven.” His brow furrows as he reads it. He hasn’t smelled anything cooking, and Emma never makes dinner alone. He goes to the oven anyway, further confused when it’s cold to the touch. He opens the door and inside is a large, round loaf of bread with something draped around it. He slides out the rack and sees that Emma has made a miniature gold medal out of paper clips and a yogurt lid. That alone makes him chuckle - they have passed many evenings laughing together as they watch The Office on Netflix.

However, his chuckle dies the minute he reads what Emma has written on the tiny “medal” - Daddy of the Year 2022. A bun . . . in the oven . . . Daddy of the year? He leaves the oven door open as he dashes up the stairs two at a time. He stops himself at their bedroom door, not wanting to startle Emma. He quietly slips into the room, slides into bed next to Emma, and wraps his arms around her. She mumbles and turns in his embrace.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey,” she whispers back.

“You were right,” he tells her, “I’m an idiot.”

She laughs and cups his cheek, “Don’t worry, I love you anyway.”

“Bun in the oven, huh?”

He rests his hand gently on her abdomen as she nods her head. She places her hand over his. “And you’ll never believe my due date.”

He sighs, burying his face in her hair. “Let me guess - February 4th?” He feels her nod against him.

“Are you mad?”

Killian pulls away, the question smarting. He thinks back to their fight earlier and winces. He presses his lips to hers in a tender but possessive kiss.

“Of course not. I’ve always thought Pyeonchang would be the best olympics of my life, but this just might top it.”

He can feel her smile against his neck. “I’m so happy.”

Killian rubs her back and kisses the top of her head. “Me too.”

When Killian Jones was 12 years old, he was shoved to the ice by a 9 year old blonde spitfire. He dreamed of olympic gold then, but never this. He’s glad that reality has exceeded his wildest dreams.

[angelicthor]

back to basics

lance tucker’s sex coaching: part 1

pairing: lance tucker x reader

summary: after your only ever boyfriend decides its time to call it quits, you’re very reluctant to get back out into the dating game. Especially with your inexperience in the bedroom. But when your roommate and best friend Lance Tucker offers you sex lessons, who are you to say deny such an opportunity?

warnings: +18 only, smut

masterlist | lance tucker’s sex coaching masterlist

It was the next night when Lance began your sex-ucation and you had been nothing but a bundle of nerves all day. What were you thinking? Agreeing to let your friend give you sex advice was one thing but gaining hands-on experience with them was something else entirely. Especially when that friend happened to be Lance Tucker, notorious womanizer and your best friend and roommate – it was like you were asking for trouble.

You deliberated all day on whether or not you should actually go through with it but as you drove home from work back to your apartment you had decided that you simply couldn’t do this. Walking through your front door, you furrowed your brows when you saw no sign of Lance in the living room where you expected him to be just like he was last night. Maybe he wasn’t serious about this after all. That thought ignited a strange sense of relief and disappointment in you that you quickly pushed down.

“Lance?” You called out, unceremoniously dumping your bag and coat by the door as you toed off your shoes.

“In here!” He shouted, the sound muffled by his closed bedroom door.

“Hey, look I know-” The words died on your tongue as you opened the door and saw Lance laying across his bed shirtless, grey sweats hanging low on his waist looking positively divine.

“Jesus, what took you so long? Ready to get started?” Lance asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at you as he did.

Any and all thoughts of backing out vanished from your mind as you shamelessly let your eyes wander over his toned chest and down to the chiselled v of his Adonis belt, nodding your head mutely as you shuffled over to where he sat.

“Ok so we should go all the way back to basics and work our way up, that’s what I normally do anyway,” he shrugged.

Anxiously sitting yourself next to him, you arched a brow in his direction, “‘Normally do’ huh? So, you’ve done this before?”

“No dingus,” He flicked at your nose, “But I do coach for a living and that’s what this effectively is, figured I should use the same strategy. Sex has always been a talent of mine that’s only gotten better with practise but don’t worry sweetness, I’ll get you to gold standard in no time.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the mention of gold, his medals were something you had heard no end of and you weren’t surprised in the slightest that he had mentioned it in this strange situation.

“Y/N, sugar, you have to relax. I’m afraid I’m going to move you and you’ll snap in half. Trust me, this is us – we’ve known each other forever – this won’t ruin anything. I promise.”

Of course Lance could tell what was on your mind, he always could read you better than anyone you’d ever known. Taking a deep breath, you turned to fully face Lance on the bed, feeling like a teenager about to have their first awkward kiss.

“How about we start with a kiss?” Lance husked, voice deeper than it was moments before as his eyes strayed from yours down to your lips, slowly closing the distance between you as your breath hitched in your throat.

Lances hands cradled your face, your eyes fluttering closed at the gentle touch. Tenderly pushing your hair back, Lance simply held you for a moment, the feeling of his soft pants of breath on your face making your heart race in anticipation. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more of Lance’s lingering, his lips tentatively brushed against yours, heart beat fluttering wildly against your ribcage before Lance deepened the kiss pulling you closer to him as you completely surrendered yourself entirely to him.

All thoughts of caution fled your mind the moment Lance lifted you to his lap, his tongue swiping over your lower lip in request for entrance which you eagerly accepted. The kiss heated up between you, lips moving with more urgency as Lance’s large hands roamed your back, pulling you closer to him as your fingers tugged at his neatly-styled hair.

“Fuck,” Lance whispered dazed when the need for air became too much, the both of you panting slightly as you came back to reality, “Ok well, kissing definitely needs no work. Fuck, you got some nice lips kitten, can’t wait to see what else they can do.”

You felt your face burn up at his lewd words, your mind flooding with images of your lips wrapped around Lance’s hard cock, his hands in your hair as his hips thrust into your eagerly awaiting mouth.

The feeling of Lance tracing your lower lip with his thumb brought you back to the present, the cheeky glint in Lance’s eyes paired with the smug smirk pulling at his lips letting you know that he had some idea where your thoughts had run off to and you awkwardly cleared your throat, “What do we do now?”

“We do nothing. If you want to get good between the sheets then the first step is to learn yourself, I mean how do you expect anyone else to be able to make you cum if you don’t know how you tick, right? So, you are going to show me how you, you know, flick the bean.”

He couldn’t be saying what you though he was saying – was he?

“I’m sorry can you repeat that, I think I may have had a minor stroke.”

“Oh come on kitten, don’t be shy – that’s part of your problem, trust me this is gonna help you. I promise.” Lance crossed his finger over his heart as a sign of his vow and you reluctantly moved off his lap to stand by the bed, hesitantly tugging the buttons of your shirt free and exposing your bra-clad chest to Lance who sat there with wide eyes.

Hearing no protest, you continued to strip your clothes from your body until you were fully bare to your best friend who still had yet to utter a single word, as the agonisingly long seconds ticked on you began to feel more and more self-conscious, bringing your arms up to shield yourself from his unwavering stare.

The motion seemed to snap Lance out of his stupor and he was shaking his head at your poor attempt to cover yourself, prying your arms apart to reveal yourself to him once more. “No, no, no, babygirl I’m sorry – sitting here like an idiot probably not the best idea but goddamn, you know you have to be a crazy kind of hot to shut me up. You are stunning Y/N and if any man ever tells you different, leave his ass right then and there.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the seriousness he said those words with, already feeling more comfortable standing in front of Lance naked, helped by the reverence in his eyes that convinced you he was telling you nothing but the truth.  Reaching out, Lance took your hand in his, standing from the bed and letting you sit where he previously was.

“Ok, lay back and make yourself comfortable.”

Following his instructions, you reclined against his bed, relishing in the scent of Lance that seemed to surround you here and adjusted yourself until you were relaxed. You felt the bed dip at the bottom, watching as Lance sat at the perfect place between your propped-up feet to see you in your entirety.

“Now,” Lance swallowed thickly, his voice rougher than it was moments ago and you couldn’t deny the thrill the sound sent down your spine, “Take your time, learn your body, and for the love of fuck, relax otherwise your never gonna fuckin’ cum.”

“Gee, thanks for the advice coach,” You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, missing the way Lance’s eyes darkened at the name.

With a sigh, you slowly trailed your hands over your chest, fingertips ghosting over your hardened nipples as your hands continued their journey south, nails gently tracing patterns over your sensitive skin as you teased yourself, eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in the featherlight feeling of your nails against your skin.

You let your hands mindlessly explore your body, aware of the blazing stare burning into you from Lance watching every move you made, the thought making your pussy clench in desire. Eventually, your hands met the apex of your thighs, your legs slowly falling open as your fingers danced along your glistening folds, hearing Lance’s strangled groan at the sight of your wet cunt on show.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound, peeking up at the man through heavy lids as you watched him palm his rock-hard cock through his sweats, teeth biting down so hard on his bottom lip you were worried he would draw blood.

“Don’t stop sweetheart, keep going – doin’ so good,” Lance encouraged, voice husky as he reached into his sweats to free his cock, the sight of his impressive manhood causing you to let out a groan of your own, fingers dipping into your slick as you moved to circle your throbbing clit, back arching off the bed at the pleasure that shot through your every nerve.

You moaned as your fingers continued to circle your clit, your other hand moving up your body to palm at your breast, fingers pinching your stiffened nipple as you moaned at the euphoria that flooded your veins.

The wet sound of Lance fucking his hand met your ears, the sight making your fingers move faster against your swollen bud as you threw your head back with a cry, eyes screwing shut as you approached your end.

The coil in your core tightened, legs trembling and toes curling when it finally snapped, body writhing on the bed as sparks set your every nerve on fire, your mind swimming in the bliss your orgasm brought you as your pounding heart echoed in your ears.

“Fuuuck,” Lance groaned out causing you to use what little energy you had left to prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as he too came, jets of cum painting his lower abs, his hand pumping the very last drop from him until it simply became too much.

Crawling up the bed, Lance collapsed on his side next to you, his sweats discarded on the floor leaving him as naked as you. “Well that was fun,” Lance stated monotonously causing you to snort as laughter bubbled from you, a large grin pulling at Lance’s lips at the sound, “You’re a natural by the way. Who knows, maybe when all this is over you’ll have taught me a thing or two as well.”

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

[illfoandillfie]

This is so much fun. 🎉 And since we’re doing nsfw, I have some more top 5 for you: lingerie / sex scenes in films / fantasies to get off to 🥺🍆🥵

kdhsdhfksd okay these took some thinking but it was the fun kind of thinking so that’s okay. thank you!

Lingerie: (links go to lovehoney)

At the moment my fave is this matching set ofwet look high wasted undies and crop top I bought in a valentines sale

Red gift wrap bow (mr taylor please come andruin me)

This maroon basque I own. It's a bit tight butmy tits look great in it

Simplicity can be really lovely in lingerie soI'm a big fan of like a nice bra and a matching set of undies, maybe addinggarter/stockings as well (I've got a plain black set but the thong iscrotchless and it’s decorated with little pink bows which is very cute)

 As someone who has a big softspot for a) historyand b) the pinup/rockabilly scene I’m a big fan of corsets. There are so manydifferent styles and they come in so many fun colours and patterns. I have acheap one I bought on wish but I would absolutely love to get one properly fittedand made for me.

Sex scenes in film:

Atonement – against the bookshelf in thelibrary, ma’am im going to faint (bonus points because james mcavoy is perpetuallyon my to do list and kiera knightly’s dress is stunning, as is she)

The Bronze – not necessarily because it’s superhot but it’s Sebastian Stan playing a cocky as hell gymnast doing all sorts ofwhack flips and handstands during sex which is completely fucking ridiculousbut it’s also a win in my books (seriously…his character has a tattoo of thepart of an Olympic medal that hangs around your neck which leads down to hisdick. She literally says the words “gimme that gold” before he does a flip intoher its one of the best things ive ever seen. Also he do look reaaaallll fuckinhot in that movie)

I’s not a full on sex scene but the scene inSecretary where he spanks her as she reads the letter? Oof yes hello why isn’tthat me? Honestly tho I haven’t seen the whole film but what I have is so verygood (maggie gyllenhaal walking around with a spreader bar cuffed to her wristscarrying papers in her mouth? James spader putting a fucking riding saddle on herback while she’s on all fours on his work desk? Part of me is into it becauseim a big dumb sub and hhhhhh part of me is into it cause its maggie gyllenhaal lmao)

Okay ngl this is where I started to blank whichis dumb cause I know ive seen more sex scenes than this but anyway Deadpoolshould get a mention both because ryan Reynolds is hot but also because is justkinda real cute the way they show the progress of time by having them fuck ondifferent holidays. Also because he gets pegged for international womens dayand that’s fucking brilliant.

I can’t think of another so lets just say thisspot is reserved for whatever The Voyeurs gives us.

 Fantasies to get off to: (oh boy im really putting myself on blast rnyikes)

A freeuse type scenario like the guy I live with can just use me whenever he wants.Maybe im doing the dishes when I get bent over and railed orrr waking up andI’m being fucked or like I'm playing a video game or reading and he takes thecontroller or book out of my hands so he can fuck my throat and then hands itback like nothing happened – sometimes with the added bonus of not being ableto cum in time and having to wait until he wants to use me again (hhhhh I justwant to be treated like a living fleshlight)

y’know those fics I wrote about being hogtiedand overstimulated? Yeah that

y’know those fics I wrote about being ahypnotised bimbo? Yeah that

okay this one is a fantasy I’ve had for a fewyears now that came about because of a porn video I watched. Basically in thevideo it was like a room full of men who’d paid to be there. The walls werelined with people sized holes and sticking out of them are women but justenough of them for the men to use. Each hole has a photo of the woman stuckover it but the men can’t see their actual faces. And basically the women laythere in different positions (some are on their backs with their legs chainedto the wall, some are kneeling on the floor, some are doing like a traditionalglory hole thing) while they’re used by a bunch of random guys they can’t see.It’s like a different take on free use I guess but oh to be one of those women.

I’m the pet to a couple. Sometimes the womanplays with me, sometimes the man, sometimes both idk I just wanna be calledkitten and be edged a lot and feel completely owned.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Queen of Hearts - Chapter 12

Thirty-year-old Rose Tyler’s matchmaking business is doing very well indeed, bringing her clients such as celebrities, athletes, and the now-happily-married son of the mayor.  All of which brings her to her newest client - one whose royal rank is a far cry above her own title as Queen of Hearts.

Ian, King of Gallifrey, calls off his wedding four weeks before the happy day as he realizes he can’t spend another minute of his life with his betrothed.  The catch - he must take a wife before his Coronation, only a month away.  In desperation, his sister and aunt conspire to find him is happy ever after - and it’s going to take a master matchmaker to do it.

-

Based on the Hallmark Movie ‘Royal Matchmaker’.  Chapters will be posted every Sunday.

As always, beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma​!  @doctorroseprompts

Masterlist  |  AO3

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Friday, April 19th

The next morning found Ian slumped in his desk chair, back to the door as he stared out the windows.  The glass went from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, providing the best view possible of the lake and Alps behind it.  When the conditions were right, he could see straight across to the Swiss village that occupied the far shore.

Today, though, the sky was as opaque and threatening as his mood, dark clouds promising storms by day's end.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t turn to look at the sound of his sister’s voice, trusting she would enter and bend his ear regardless.  “Why do you assume something’s wrong?”

“Because it’s eleven in the morning and no one’s seen you.  Sarah said Rose was at breakfast in the kitchens for the first time.  So, tell me. What’s wrong?”

Donna came around the desk to crouch in front of him, steadying herself with a palm on his knee and staring up at him with the most sympathetic look possible.

Wiping his hand down his face, he sighed heavily, trying to subtly hide the bottle of scotch he held before she spotted it.  “She’s engaged.”

“What?  That’s ridiculous – why show up then?  All she had to say was ‘no thanks, already engaged, not interested, but thanks anyway’.  Why show and waste our time, then?”

Ian stared at her blankly, and she matched his expression, until it melted back to its previous level of sympathy.

“You’re not talking about Reinette.”

He slowly shook his head.

“You don’t want to marry Reinette.”

Another shake.

“You want Rose.”

This time, a tentative nod.

“And she’s engaged?  She doesn’t wear a ring… I thought she was unattached?”

“So did I,” he sighed, sinking further in his chair and turning his attention out the window to a bird circling above the lake.  “But last night, when I was coming back from dinner, I found her on the patio.  She didn’t see me, but she was on her mobile, talking to a bloke, saying they’d start planning the wedding when she got back.”

“Maybe-”

“She said she loved him,” he cut Donna off, grimacing when her face twisted in sympathy.

“I’m sorry.”

Ian nodded sharply, crossing his arms.  “It’s fine,” he lied, “I’ll… I’ll marry Reinette, and we’ll produce an heir, and you can go back to being the ‘spare’.”

“Have you considered asking Rose about it?” she asked carefully, standing.  “Maybe it’s not how it seemed?  Maybe you misunderstood.”

“It’s not the kind of thing you misunderstand.”  He smiled wistfully, picturing Rose in his mother’s coronation regalia, or her favorite tiara.  She would make a wonderful queen.  “Think nothing of it, and don’t even consider trying to do something about it.  I expressly forbid it.”

“All right,” Donna agreed easily enough, smirking when his eyes narrowed in suspicion.  “Whatever you say, Your Majesty.  But might I recommend a shower?  You reek of that scotch you’re trying to hide.”

And she swept out of the room, leaving him alone.

Damn her, he thought, more sad than angry.  Why must she see right through me?

-

Sunday, April 21st

After introducing Reinette to the King, Rose saw neither for days as she was utterly abandoned.  No meal invitations, she never saw him in the halls. With nothing to do she was free to roam to her heart’s content, waiting on word that never came.

Friday and Saturday passed unremarkably, and Sunday was headed that way as well when Princess Donna knocked on the door around three in the afternoon.

“Come in,” Rose called, looking up from the Gallifrey-specific version of Monopoly they’d found in the game room.

“Yes, please come and save me,” Mel muttered, scowling down at the board – for all her bubbly personality, the redhead was a sore loser, and a loser she would soon be if she landed on one more hotel.

Princess Donna stepped into the room, and they both stood and curtseyed to her.

“Rose, I was hoping perhaps you could assist me?” she asked, and Rose’s eyes lit up.

“Of course Your Highness, how?”  Ditching the blanket she was using as a shaw, she shoved her feet back into her heels and stepped closer.

Leaving Mel behind they stepped out into the hall, the Princess leading her away from the direction of the King’s suite, making Rose’s hopes fall.

“The King has decided to propose to Reinette,” the redhead said bluntly, as they headed into a section of the Palace Rose had never seen.  “He’s tasked me with picking a ring for her.  Given that you likely know her best from your thorough vetting processes, I thought you might be able to guide me.”

“Oh,” Rose said softly, heart sinking like a stone.  “Of course.”

Within two minutes they reached the basement, continuing on through several storage rooms until they came upon a guarded vault.

“Good afternoon Anthony,” the Princess said warmly to the soldier on the right, “I need to remove something from the Archive.”

“Certainly, Your Highness,” he bowed, “I’d be happy to get it for you.  What is it?”

The Princess shook her head.  “A ring, but I’m not sure which one yet.  Miss Tyler here is to help me choose.”

They had to sign a book to get into the room, Princess Donna muttering, “This is where we keep all the Crown Jewels, Coronation Regalia, and the like.  Copies of some things are kept in the Museum in town, but all the real items are kept here.  In any case of emergency, this is the place to be.  It’s the most secure spot in the kingdom.”

She led her down rows filled with gorgeous, priceless items, mostly various types of jewelry.  Crowns and tiaras, scepters and swords, necklaces, earrings, medals, broaches, one twinkling item after another, dozens of each, hundreds, each more spectacular than the last until they finally reached a cabinet a jeweler could only dream of.  Several hundred rings must have sat in the combination-locked case, covered in diamonds and gemstones.  Rubies, emeralds, sapphires, tanzanite, diamonds of every color, all sparkling in the overhead lighting.

“This is amazing,” Rose said softly.  “Does this all get used?”

“Most of it,” the Princess said, undoing the lock.  “Over time, at least. I try to wear something different on every State occasion, within my taste and size.  We keep a log of when and by whom everything is worn, and sometimes I’ll pick what hasn’t been seen in the longest time and base my outfit around that, just to keep it in circulation.  Does no good being kept hidden down here.”

Rose tentatively ran a hand over the top of the case, staring down at rings.  “You’re very lucky,” she said softly.  The Jewel House at the Tower of London’s got nothing on this.

“I know.”  Then the Princess stepped back.  “Take a look, try some on if you like.  Have fun.  But keep in mind, they do an inventory after every time someone enters the Archive, so we’ll know if you pocket something.”

Rose’s head snapped up, horrified, only to find a teasing smirk on the Princess’s face.  “Oh very funny,” she muttered, before going pink.  “Sorry.”

Trying to decide where to start, she asked, “How are these organized?”

“Ring size, metal, type of stone.  Reinette’s a size six,” she pointed to a section a third of the way down from the left wall, “but I’ll leave the rest to your discretion.”

If she weren’t heartbroken at the thought of picking a ring for the man she loved to give to another woman, Rose would be having the time of her life sorting through the rings.  Reinette had a clear preference for gold jewelry based on her Instagram posts, and Rose started there.

The problem, she quickly realized, was that she had no idea what Reinette would prefer.  Something gaudy?  Something understated?  Traditional diamond or a different stone?  What cut?

A second problem, one she refused to acknowledge, was how much she wanted to be picking a ring for herself.

Finally choosing one slightly at random, she held it out towards the Princess.  “This one, I think.  Sorry, I match people to people, not jewelry.”

“She can always choose something else,” the other woman shrugged, sliding it on her pinky for safe keeping.  “I expected we’d be down here longer, so if you wanted to play around with them…”

“Really?”  Despite her heartbreak, Rose lit up.  “These are all so gorgeous…”

“Go ahead,” the Princess grinned.  “Have fun.”

Humming to herself, Rose abandoned the gold section for the white gold.  “God these are stunning.”

“Which would you choose for yourself?  If you were getting married, I mean?” Princess Donna asked, leaning on the cabinet nearby and watching her try rings on.

“Me?”  Rose held her hand up to the light, admiring the sparkle on a diamond the size of her eye.  “Probably not a diamond – or at least, not white.  Maybe something pink, or blue.  White gold.”  She tried on another, this time an emerald.  “I’m not sure.”

Then, she spotted it.  “Oh,” she said, very softly, reaching a trembling hand into the case and plucking the ring out.  “Oh my.” Tears pricked at her eyes, even as her heart ached.  “Oh, if I could…  This would be it.”

Sliding it on her finger, she turned towards the Princess to show her, who gasped softly as well.

“It suits you.”

Rose nodded, staring down at her finger.  The band was white gold, the top half cut out into a celtic lover’s knot.  A large, bright princess-cut sapphire sparkled from the center, surrounded by tiny white diamonds.  It was elegant and clean, the stone large enough for a royal bride but not heavy enough to break her finger.

It was perfection.

But the only man who could give it to her, who she would want to give it to her, was giving a different ring to a different woman.  One she herself had just picked.

“We should get back.”  Rose yanked the ring off her finger and set it back in its spot, turning her back on the case and stepping away.  “Thank you for- well.”

“Of course.”  The Princess locked the case again, and they made their way back to the vault entrance, stepping out to where the soldiers still stood, both snapping to attention at the sight of their Princess.  “Shoot! I forgot to pick a tiara to go with it,” she snapped her fingers.  “Can you find your own way back?”

Rose nodded, wrinkling her nose.  “D’you need any-”

“No, I’m good, thanks.  See you later!”  And the Princess disappeared back inside the vault, leaving Rose standing awkwardly with the guards, who stared at her impassively.

Clearing her throat, Rose pointed towards the stairs.  “I’ll just be going, won’t I?”

Turning on her heel, she walked up the flight sedately – then ran back to the suite, trying desperately to hold back the tears until she reached the safety of her bed.

-

Monday, April 22nd

He spent the next three days courting Reinette at every turn, doing his best to charm her as he made preparations to propose.

She wasn’t his first choice by any means, but she was the best he had, and since he’d sent all the others away, really his only option.  Abdicating, as appealing as the idea was, wasn’t feasible – besides, it wouldn’t look good for Donna’s first act as Queen to be throwing him in the dungeon and having him executed.

If nothing else, his niece and nephew would cry and miss him – he hoped.

So, out of time, options, and the will to keep fighting the inevitable, he put his best foot forward.  He took her into Geneva for the Opera, some horrible thing all in Italian he detested and she adored.  Sarah arranged for them to go into the Gallifreyan History Museum afterhours to wander through the exhibits, and he told her some of his country’s origins and legends.  They went horseback riding and picnicking, taking a horse-drawn carriage along the border road that ran along the boundary between Gallifrey, France, and in a few spots, Switzerland.

Conversation came fairly easily, and he found they had a great many things in common, including views on policy and politics.

She was just as Rose had promised – technically perfect, with one glaringly obvious fault.

She wasn’t Rose.

Well, and that she was French.  Okay, two faults.

He could learn to live with her nationality, given that they shared a border and her language was the country’s second official, after English and even before Gallifreyan.

If only he could forget about Rose, then everything would be almost perfect.

He’d tasked Donna with picking a ring from the Archives, reasonably certain that if he thought too hard about any of this, he would run for the hills and never return, or fake his own death, or something equally dramatic to get away from it all.

The box it sat in burned in his pocket as they walked along the lakeshore.  His heart was pounding, breath catching, stomach rioting – and not in the happy way Rose promised.

Rose.

He stopped dead at the thought, his heart quietly breaking as considered what he’d been trying to make himself do since they reached the shore.

“Your Majesty?  Is something wrong?” Reinette asked, turning back to where he was frozen.  Genuine concern colored her tone, but he could barely hear her through the rushing in his ears.

Yes – you’re not who I want.  What do I do?  What do I say?

In the end, he had no choice.  Unable to make his knee bend, he merely fished the box out of his pocket and held it towards her, trembling.  “Will you marry me?”

She didn’t immediately respond, eyes darting between himself and the box, and when she finally met his gaze, a softness rested there he didn’t appreciate.  “Are you sure?  That I’m the one you want?”

“Yes,” he choked out, unable to say anything more.

After a moment she nodded, sighing softly.  “Then, yes.  Yes, I will marry you.”

It wasn’t anything like the movies, or like he might have, on very rare occasions, pictured.  No crying, no kissing, no declarations of love.  He slid the ring on her finger, kissed her knuckles, and they turned back towards the palace.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, indeed.

[ts-2020-olympics]

Episode 6 - “The Level of Disgust I Have” - Karen

so i flopped in the arena.. but i do be staying sitting pretty considering the fact that i’ve survived every tribal with no votes even when my name is brought up! so cheers to that 

So I've just blown up the entire Miraitowa chat exposing Nicole and Jacob C as fantastic liars, yet Sammy doesnt have enough sense in his head to make his own decisions and go with the more trustworthy people. Honestly pray for a swap because this tribe is a fucking mess and the returnees are just picking off all the newbies, making this season boring as shit.

So, that boring ass alliance of 4 with Eve on the bottom probably wont break up for anything. That sucks, but I still have my extra vote. If Landen can win immunity, they'll all want to vote Eve, so then I can reveal to Eve and Landen I have an extra vote. Then we all vote together and make those bitches go to rocks and make this shit actually entertaining.

I honestly feel two things 1) I’m a fool and 2) I’m leaving this round. I just feel like it’s my time and it just sucks because I got played into doing all the dirty work for a bunch of stinky little men. So here’s the lowdown of what happened: I explained in my last confessional that we voted out Pete and that I felt like I was going to get fucked over because I was doing all the talking! Well. Essentially that. Basically when Pete came back there was a lot of information spilled and I was left to try to tell the truth without telling the whole truth (which was that we built this tribe to kill the newbies off which NOW IM NOT EVEN SURE IS TRUE.) So Landen tells us that Juls told Sammy and Jacob about her power, not just TOLD SAMMY AND JACOB. Offered to use her power on Jacob and Sammy. And they said NO and let it be used on Landen, essentially putting Kevin in the hot seat. So I’m kind of mad. I think I’m leaving this round like I just feel it in my gut but, maybe not. Who knows, who cares, I’m tired. 

Counting helped at my grandma's place to unwind. Not hearing boring, inane tripe from Darcy also helps. He's boring. I hate boring people. Also he voted for me, so why trust him? 

So I found out Eve left me for dead as well and she flips to them for no reason instead of talking to the person she’s been with since day 1. At the start i told her i’m watching her back for her and I’ve done that, now that I try talking to her out of fear for her safety, she doesn’t care to talk. It’s okay though that’s the game, it’s good that I know that now though so i don’t waste my extra vote lol

First off, I once again had no luck in the Olympic Village, nothing in the pool, so if something was there, someone else must have found the things already.  Secondly, a trio was formed between Tommy, Beck and I, where I already told both of them that I wanted to go to merge with them both, and that is 100% the truth, I trust those two the most on my tribe at the moment, and been having the best talks with them both in this game so far on my tribe.   So I would love making merge with the two of them.   Thirdly, I won individual immunity, which I actually think this is my first time winning individual immunity in an org, so am grateful to achieve that goal, although I didn't have to go all out to the 10k mark lmao.   Also, from what I got told from Tommy, Ben wanted to get me out if I had lost this immunity, so being safe feels that much greater, and I want Ben out now moment he isn't immune.  Plus had Ben call me a no lifer in the main chat after results got posted, so of course, I had to try to defend myself somewhat, as I'm not going to stand around and get claimed a no lifer, even though it is partially the truth due to being unemployed, but I do hang out with friends and stuff.  Anyways, Ben did apologize shortly afterwards for his words, which I appreciate the apology, but that doesn't change the fact that I want him out asap, since well he wants me out.   In terms of this vote though, if everything goes good, I think it will be Juls getting the boot, but we shall see what happens.  I am safe for this round, and made final 17, so no matter what I am safe, just hopefully my allies in Tommy and Beck can both survive this vote as well.

I think we've come to the end of the road for me, which sucks. I really don't want to lose this game, especially so early. I hate big casts, truly. Anyway, either way this night is gonna fuck me over. Two things could be happening tonight: 1) I get rid of Jacob and then Kevin is mad at me, Sammy is mad I got rid of Jacob, I sever my ties with Beck and Juls, I have to rely on my returnee ties and new newbie ties but, the new newbies don't like me either. So I'd essentially be screwed, but I've already promised it. 2) We get rid of Eve, and I lie to Eve, AGAIN. Which I really don't want to do. Although she's a little bit of a wishy washy woman, I don't want to betray Eve's trust because she's actually so sweet, and I'd value a friendship with her going forward in this game. I think I normally succeed in games where I can cultivate genuine friendships and feel like I truly have someone to rely on. I think I'm seeing that more and more with Kevin and Karen, but I don't know if that's 100% genuine either. Either way I'm not winning this game, so if I lose tonight I'll just reduce it down to I played too big too fast and I'll know better for next time around. Being the first winner out would really suck. But, I don't know. I'm just kind of nervous I ruined my game for people who don't care if I go and that's probably the worst feeling (and I'd know, seeing as I have gotten 0 votes at FTC, two times!) Anyway, I'll check back in later if we do come up with a plan that doesn't make me feel like utter shit, which is not likely at this point in time.

Y’all lemme tell you, Miraitowa is a fuckin mess fuck this tribe i can’t wait for the swap lmao. Okay so basically the voting block that took me out exploded and is eating itself. Jacob C and Nicole are telling the exact same story except they’re accusing the other person of creating the alliance and voting me. Honestly idc it was probably a team effort between the both of them, i’m trying to have the vote end up as the worst case possible for that alliance so it officially never reconnects. Here’s how it breaks down: Jacob C, Sammy, and Eve are all trying to get Nicole out. Nicole is trying to get Jacob C out. Kevin is a fuckin wild card, I thought he’d be with Nicole but who the fuck knows man. If Landen and I let Nicole go, we’d still be on the bottom of the same alliance minus Nicole so right now we need to confirm that Kevin is voting with Nicole and we can break apart some of Jacob’s connections. 

Oh my god a triple tribal council. Y'all can't give us a break?!?!?! This season is going to have the most tribal council I swear. This is at least an opportunity to get out Juls, who I think will be my biggest threat if I let her slip past this vote because she's dangerous and able to get along with so many people. This twist I think will prove to be a good way to get Juls out because she has to face two people and unless the other tribe puts total duds in terms of challenge competition she will go home if sent to the arena. As part of strategy when Ben told me he was coming for Darcy, I told Darcy right before he won immunity that Ben was after him but I said I heard it from Karen. This way it shows that Karen is willing to keep Darcy but it gives me more trust with Darcy than Karen because I was the one who told Darcy. We had a call Darcy, Beck, and Myself and finally made a trio alliance which I think will benefit me at certain points in the game because they may have really good potential to draw in people to work with. I think I convinced them I can draw in Karen as a makeshift fourth for our group to have a majority. However, I trust Karen for now in the long scheme I think I will just maintain a good standing with her but not tell them as much. As for now I'm just down with this plan Myself, Beck, Darcy, and Karen are going for to blindside Juls and hopefully my plan to get rid of Juls pans out and we are able to officially eliminate her. If we go to tribal again Ben makes an easy next boot, this keeps the 4 people I'm closest to on the tribe on the tribe as long as possible (Karen, Beck, Darcy, and Caeleb.) The only problems I see if Juls goes is that either she wins a Gold medal and/or Caeleb loses trust which both have a chance of happening but I think this risk will be worth the reward. It's a high risk high reward situation.    

People are quiet, and I hope it's because of inactivity Jordan and Emma seem fine with voting Sarah, and that should be all needed. Chris isn't responding but I don't think he's around. Sarah hasn't even read my message today lol

honestly at this point my tribe is a disaster and i feel like the prince, just sitting on my throne with immunity and looking down with a horrified gaze like... what the FUCK is happening... y'all-. Ever since when I was first blindsided by seeing Pete leave everything went insane. Sammy called for damage control, it was all obvious bullshit. i won the medal at the arena, thank the lord, i did intentionally volunteer knowing i NEEDED that bonus, but thank god i got it for individual immunity instead! i was able to *ahem* secure the bag, and i did that while also going as hard as i can with my social manipulation skills. everyone thought i was just some newbie or some quiet anxious guy that doesn't know how to crack the premade and will never be able to put up a fight but they were wrong. They should not have underestimated me because I was able to expose the lies they told themselves and each-other. In all their efforts to outplay one another, they ended up soiling their own defeat. i told nicole about how sammy/jacob omitted the information about juls' power, and i continuously threatened everyone through jokes to remind them 'I'm still counting, and I've been counting for 24 hours. I'm going to win immunity, and you'll have to turn on eachother.' this madness led to nicole throwing sammy/jacob under the bus right before challenge ended, and of course, they returned the favor. This has led to a paranoia induced voting period where honestly, i still don't even know what's happening. it's very likely the tribal is LIVE tonight. the fear and stress comes in in that i really don't want to lie to sammy after the conversations we had, i really want to be truthful with him. but thinking about my individual game, keeping Jacob C and Eve in just makes no sense. They both have no interest in working with me long term and they both are connected with a ton of people that I want to have loyalty to. Getting rid of them frees up Caeleb and Juls a little bit for me, so I would really like to take them down. But working with Nicole, Kevin, and Pete is going to put me in a tight spot where Sammy is furious, potentially with an idol, and feels like I was a hypocrite with him. That's going to be really hard. But Eve and Jacob are just. VERY bad for my game. They both limit my working relationships with other people a ton. They both make this game.. quite difficult to navigate for me. And they both have zero interest in working with me. It's hard to play Sammy like this, I am gonna feel awful for this. But, you gotta do what you gotta do, and with a swap possibly coming soon... This is what I gotta do. It's shark week (thanks Kevin) and blood is about to get shed. 

Hello I hate these hosts......all tribes going to tribal??????? The level of disgust I have .... so Ben returned after being voted kmssss I know mans will be gunning for me ugh I wish I won immunity but like Darcy fuckn snapped fhdgggg. So with this tribal coming up Darcy wants to take out juls, with me tommy and becks voting together. The only person I’m if-y on is becks atm bc becks is close to juls allegedly. Also caeleb and Juls haven’t been spoken to all day which is like yikes bc that could mean they’d vote for me, i think may I could throw becks under the bus just in case. Slim picking that’s for sure ugh why is the game like this. Also I’ve been talking to nicole and kev and they seem to be struggling on their tribe & hope neither go bc then I’d have to keep working with tommy lol /:. Also I’ve been told juls is the one who exiled Landon so 👀👀👀👀👀thats so suspect!!!!! Juls & becks seem kinda shady to me so I’m gonna have to monitor them. Ugh I hope I’m not getting played tonight or else it might just be bye bye Karen 

I’m in a peculiar position. I don’t want Eve to go, Jacob C is way bigger a threat to me but we have to keep nicole and that group is set on Eve....... god i’m hoping we’re right. 

hello confessional! i'm an awful person and this is the third time in an org that i've fucked over juls somehow and i feel terrible about it. unfortunately with the new alliance that tommy made for us voting out anyone else besides caeleb or juls was not an option and caeleb is rly good at challenges so.... but yeah! tonight fucking sucked. kinda hope juls comes back but i also don't bc she will be out for my blood and you know what? i deserve it

Nicole’s gone, I’m happy about it, it’s what she deserves truely. Over this stupid fucking tribe, CHOKE all of you

I feel really bad about this vote. I new Jacob was going home, but I had to vote with him to make sure that he’ll still be on my side if he comes back from arena. 

The game is getting spicy. This is my confession 👀

WELLLLLLLL babes basically this round started out with landen and pete coming back and trying to yell at the four from the previous majority, after we lied to their faces and then they did not take it well. After all the fighting was said and done we all got to counting and by all i mean me and landen, whom beat me thanks to his silver medal. Even though i counted higher, but alas the past is in the past. After that the game really got going cause we had to go to TRIBAL !!! which fucking sucked because we basically only had 1 option for our "alliance" which was eve, i started talking to the 2 safe bois to see where they were at and the didnt like eve or had some issues with eve, so i thought we could capitalize on that and just unan it on eve, but when i woke up that was simply NOT AN OPTION because the night before nicole had said jacobs name to nicole, without informing the alliance nor jacob personally what she said. This was followed by eve telling jacob immediately after what was said which lead jacob to distrust nicole which in turn made sammy distrust nicole, waking up in the middle of this was not ideal because i had no way to prevent it so i had to work with the situation as best as possible. After talking to everyone on the tribe it literally seemed to be a vote between jacob and nicole with no wiggle room. However as the day moved on i wanted to try and sneak eves name into the mix, after talking to pete and landen some who both confessed they wanted to work with me i pitched to them that potentially voting Eve and then keeping Nicole and Jacob mad at each other for future rounds to cover us, to which they seemed to take well to but werent very eager to do right away. After that i had to reel nicole in and get her to send her vote to Eve which worked until we found out that Sammy has an idol !!! Which he could use on himself orrrrrr EVE, so basically we had to tread carefully after this point and we had to lie to Sammy, pete/landen said they were doing nicole and nicole said she was doing sammy himself, i didnt lie i said i felt like eve was my only option and i worked with that, but still people did lie to him, and I tried to plant seeds in his head to play the idol on himself cause potentially he could save eve, but i wanted him to worry about himself first. After all the drama there was the calm before the storm.. and then the storm hit hard as fuck. We had a plan and a majority until minutes before tribal when nicole told jacob we were voting eve to keep him in the loop and probably turn him off of her, which he was fine with! But landen and pete felt betrayed that nicole would disclose our information to someone else, so when they heard that they scrambled and Pete wanted us to flip onto Jacob, while Landen coincidentallyyy voted for Nicole, which ultimately resulted in a 3-3-1, i tried to flip sammy or pete to keep nicole but to avail ... rip nicole. After tribal eve was obviously mad about getting votes, Sammy was mad about getting lied to and Landen and Pete were proven flakes, i did my best to save face and keep my ducks in a row with sammy, pete, and landen but only time will tell if i did a good enough job. As for the rest of the game i really hope that nicole comes back because she was, surprisingly, my closest ally in this game and i need her as a shield. But im sad that juls got out and while I want her to come back too i would prefer nicole, for game purposes but i would be just as happy to see juls return if she can pull it off. Welp, good luck charlie.

So I got voted out. I think I’m good with it though. I’m very much “whatever happens happens” at this point, because in my opinion I think I’m done with this game. There’s a lot of factors that I just don’t like about it, and that’s not saying anything about the hosts because I love Monty and Gage, I think I’ve spoken about this before in other games I’ve been in but I really can’t play games where you spend 24 hours sitting around. It hinders me so bad to just be sitting, not doing a challenge or anything, especially with 25 people around, it’s hell. There are a lot of things that annoy me in this game. One being that the newbies are like...mean as fuck lol. Like they just come in guns blazing and really don’t care what they say to other people, or they’re just dead and no help at all. Eve was honestly a nasty brat, and I’m just calling it how I saw it. She demanded trust, and that’s not a good way to get people to actually trust you. She came up with a majority of five people, she assumed I’d vote out Kevin, and yes I lied a little (bc it’s survivor) but you’d think I literally had been working with her since Day One and stabbed her in the back. We had maybe 24 hours of conversation. If I lied to Kevin, I’d feel terrible. You think I feel bad lying to someone I only talked to once who planted a five person majority without my main ally in it? Like, for real? It makes no sense. Landen doesn’t like lying either like....alright go do you homework and stop playing survivor then. DO YOU KNOW WHERE WE ARE? And the funny thing is, all of these people lied to me. Eve went behind my back. Jacob sent screenshots (which is cheating but somehow I’m here and he’s not) to Sammy. Sammy literally didn’t tell me he had an advantage and told me he didn’t know about Juls advantage. Landen Said he voted Jacob. Pete said he didn’t know the plan. Kevin, I’m hoping he was honest because he’s the only reason I’m happy I played this game. Kevin is SO nice and so genuine, I hope it’s not an act for the game but I know I put him THROUGH IT this round so I’m contemplating just giving up, for his sake, because if I come back it’s likely gonna be..a bit of a mess for him. I know I might need to come back to save Kevin and Jacob, moreso Kevin bc Jacob can go kick rocks. Anyway back to Sammy for a second. I’ve always seen Sammy as this nice little man who is so kind, but I REALLY saw an ugly side of him this round. Like, I don’t think I’ll ever see him the same again. I hope he loses to literally anyone. I don’t think he deserves to win and out of everyone I’m most mad at him. He’s a hypocrite who can make you feel bad you lied to protect yourself from him because he lied to you first, and sure that helps in Survivor but that’s downright ugly and I don’t respect that at all. He lied to me CONTINUOUSLY throughout the day, leaking every word I said to Eve. Only to be mad at me because I lied to him...to misdirect his idol? TO MISDIRECT HIS IDOL HE DIDNT EVEN TELL ME ABOUT BECAUSE HE DIDNT TRUST ME. And for him to try to pull an apology out from me and make me feel bad...sit down. Nobody makes me feel bad or can twist my emotions like that so, nice try. And in such an obvious and public manner like...who taught you to be the way you are lmao. That’s so rude. I hope he loses is the point. Honestly I’m kind of like over playing and I know juls really has a fire in her heart to continue playing with these god awful people who have snaked us. She’s a little queen and I hope she wins it if I can’t, because she deserves to! My plan is to just hold on until Jacob drops (assuming it’s pressure cooker) and then decide there if I want to go in or not. I also want to put out a disclaimer that I’m ranting about everyone else bc I’m mad but I know I fucked up, too. I lied way too much for unecessary reasons that seemed necessary at the time with advantages in play. I trusted people based on personal knowledge of their heart and how kind they are, which was wrong. Jacob and Sammy both showed me their ugly sides, and I showed mine as well so I mean I’m not going to sit here and act innocent. I can see EACH mistake I made and how I could have played better. I hope Sammy and Jacob both get premerge, hope Landen gets yeeted into the sun, or a lesson in manners bc lord knows he doesn’t have any and just wants to be that That Iconic Newbie that newsflash nobody wants to cast again, and I hope juls prospers if I fail at the arena challenge. Manifest manifest manifest. I literally feel like in my brain there is no possible way I’m going to be back in this game and if I do come back, I’m just going to get voted out again. So it’s a hard choice deciding if I want to or not. I promised Juls I’d outlast Jacob B but after that, I’m not sure. I feel like I don’t even have it in me, because if I really saw a chance at winning. I just feel like I’ve made a fool of myself and let men make a fool out of me, and it’s time to go home, rest, recuperate and come back to kick ass another day. 

So we had a live tribal last night and everything is a MESS now! It's my birthday and so I'm trying to stay in a good mood and not think about the game, but honestly, stuff is pretty stressful. My plan WAS to take out Eve the whole time, I was fully on board with it and I do believe it was the right move for me at the time. Unfortunately Nicole decided to go insane and blow up the entire plan by telling Jacob and having everything blow up at tribal council which is just... ugh. It made it clear she was trying to rebuild the majority and force the power structure back in place, so that's why I had to make sure she went home. She showed unreliability and a willingness to turn that I couldn't have in the game, that's the whole reason I wanted to take out Eve. Because I need allies in this game who will work with me and who have interest in working with ME. Nicole seemed like she could be a useful person in the game, but as soon as her fight with Jacob ended and they started to try and take control again, it was too late. I had to get rid of her. Sadly she'll probably come back from the arena and that's going to make things... Messy. It's going to become a game of who can use Sammy the best, and I just hope I can win that game. But I've told him too many lies and that comes off hypocritical. It sucks because I feel guilty about it, AND hopeless in the game. But I dunno. We'll just have to see. Not to mention I lost Juls somehow, and EVERYONE seems to be shocked that she was voted out. That is not good for my game at all as she was somebody I was really relying on and also I just love her. So losing her absolutely sucks. I'm really hoping she can come back from the Arena. The game is turning into a downward spiral for me and fast. People are predicting a swap, and at that point, it's the best I can hope for. I got Eve with me now on the brightside, and I know I could reel in Caeleb, Jordan, probably even Ben.... Things are getting very bloody very quickly in a game as competitive as this one, and I just pray I can wind up on the right side of things with a swap. Being on the bottom this time was deadly and detrimental to my game - I have played extremely hard, cutthroat, fierce, and overall just like.. WELL. Not to toot my own horn but I have played VERY good on both Sonkei and Miraitowa, and there's a lot on my resume for if I do manage to make it to the end. But if I keep just giving everything 120% and making these power moves and making enemies and such as I go, I'll have no chance. I really need a stage in the game where I can sit back and kind of just relax and be this UTR force, that people aren't taking so much notice of. Form more social bonds. Also, fuck the olympic idol hunt or whatever. I suck at it but other people have gotten so many advantages. EEP!

I was about to be super proud of the fact that this was the earliest I made a confessional in a round all game, just to realize its still only 5 hours before the deadline so like is that even good? long story short I had to fuck over jacob this round which sucked cause i loved jacob but we went to too many tribals and like... im running out of options. I made a new alliance of me emma stoner and sarah which like lowkey is a good call because we have one person from 4/5 starting tribes we are as well connected to each other as we can be right now. I need us to swap not cause I would go home, I genuinly think if we kept losing I could get down on this tribe to just me and one more person if needed but like... can we not I'm so tired. Bring on the swap, i need new people to manipulate!

[moonbeambucky]

The Price of Gold (Part 2)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2102 Warnings: fluff, flashbacks

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This doesn’t follow The Bronze canon though some film details are mixed with real world events. Written for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

PART 1 | THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

Adjusting the headphones in his ear Lance pulls his phone out from his pocket, standing in the center of a construction zone of his newly acquired warehouse, the building he refinanced his own house for and is now in great debt in the hopes of developing into a gymnastics center. Everything is on the line.

Debt is not something Lance ever worried about. By seventeen he won a silver medal for the US Men’s Gymnastics Team at the 2004 Rome Olympics and dove into fame head first where a plethora of endorsements were opened to him. It’s what he needed, seeking out fame like it was oxygen; he depended on it. Hearing praise and adoration from anyone filled a part of himself that was missing, no, the part he lost just before reaching his dream. The stadium was filled with faceless people, all blurs of a crowd that cheered him on– all but one.

That silver medal was worthless. It didn’t stop the pain, it didn’t fill the void. It wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t good enough. He set his sights on the next Olympics, pushing himself harder than before. His drive and dedication was unparalleled, sculpting his body to be even stronger, a perfect specimen, a God.

Winning the gold would prove that he was the best, that all of the sacrifices he made, everything he lost would be worth it. Four years later in Beijing he stood on the highest platform, proudly displaying what he worked so hard to earn. The gold medal weighed heavily around his neck and Lance would later learn that the price of gold was high.

Seeing the notification of a new email Lance opened the app, smirking when he saw the name of the sender. He held his breath as he read over the message, shaking his head as he could practically hear the sarcastic bubbly overtone in your words and he hated it. You were always kind and friendly but this was a show, this wasn’t you.

“Come on Lance,” his mother projected her voice towards his bedroom. “We have to introduce ourselves to the new neighbors,” she said, placing her homemade snickerdoodle cookies in a tin.

Emerging from his room Lance looked like a typical kid in the 90’s, his white t-shirt had a quintessential neon geometric design across the front, his light denim jeans had elastic cuffs at the ankle where they were met by the tops of his chunky white Reebok sneakers. Lance trudged towards the kitchen, huffing as he sat down at the table. He didn’t see why he should go meet the neighbors, that kind of stuff was for adults but his mother grabbed his hand anyway, walking them across the street to the single story ranch home to welcome the family that moved in to the neighborhood.

Running his hands through his mop of fluffy brown hair Lance waited impatiently, rolling his eyes around as his mother pressed the doorbell. Movement caught his eyes and he looked at the front window. In between the vertical blinds was the head of a girl roughly his age staring back at him. She smiled and disappeared. Just then the front door opened and the young girl was standing behind the legs of a taller woman.

“Hello, may I help you?” the woman asked, smiling to both Lance and his mother though he kept his gaze on the figure behind her. He smiled seeing that the red bow she wore in her hair matched her t-shirt, chuckling as he noticed the brown bear decal on her denim overalls.

“My name is Dorothy Tucker and this is my son Lance. We live right across from you,” she pointed towards the tan house they walked over from, “And we wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Dorothy smiled warmly as she handed over the tin filled with cookies.

Your mother introduced you both, inviting Dorothy and Lance inside your home. She offered them drinks, Lance taking her up on a request for lemonade and she prepared a small cup for you as well.

Finishing your drink quickly you set the cup on the table, making an audible sound to convey that your thirst had been quenched much to the disdain of your mother, though Lance chuckled. You shared a smile with him, giggling as a playful grin spread across your face.

As your mother and Dorothy got to know each other you and Lance went to play in your room, where it seemed like all of your toys were unpacked at once and scattered all over the place. Plush toys lined your bed, beside it was a toy box filled with balls, dolls and Barbie’s thrown about. There was a bright green bin filled with dress-up clothes and glittery plastic shoes and under your bed was where you stored classic board games, including your favorite Candy Land which you insisted part of the rules meant you had to eat candy while playing.

“Wanna play Lego’s?” you asked Lance who nodded in return.

You both sat down on a colorful play rug in the center of your room. Lance watched as you rummaged through the toy box to pull out a container of Lego’s, laughing as you dumped them out in front of him. He glanced at you every time he went to grab more Lego’s, watching how focused you were on building a large house.

Lance had a couple of friends from school, boys mostly. Girls were, well, if he took his father’s advice girls shouldn’t play with boys. Mitch Tucker thought boys should stick together, getting dirty and roughhousing. Girls should keep their Barbie’s to themselves while boys, his son in particular, plays with Transformers and G.I. Joe’s.

Mitch was a “man’s man” as he often claimed, believing that women should stay home and keep house while the man provides for the family. He would frequently give his son bits of his own skewed advice, telling him to stay away from girls. He would absolutely encourage Lance to be a lady-killer later in life, but for now his skinny son needed to toughen up.

Mitch saw Lance as soft and sensitive and did everything in his power to try to stop him from his favorite hobby, gymnastics. He thought it was for sissies and blamed Dorothy for letting Lance spend too much time around girls doing cartwheels.

“Cool!” You admired the large boat Lance was making.

“Thanks,” he smiled. “So… you live here now?”

“Yeah, mommy said we have to live by my Grammy so we bought a new house,” you replied, repeating the information your parents had told you. “Will you be my friend? I don’t have any friends yet.”

You asked him plainly as you focused on making a car to go along with the house you’d built, though Lance heard the tinge of sadness laced in your tone. It couldn’t be easy to be the new kid in town.

“Yeah I’ll be your friend, Y/N,” he replied, handing you a pair of wheels he knew you would need, somehow even then he was already willing to give you anything you needed.

You had eventually made friends especially once the school year rolled around but Lance would remain your best friend. He was a year older than you but that didn’t stop your routine. His mother would pick you both up after school, providing snacks as you completed your homework at the kitchen table. You both raced to finish so you could have time to play before your own parents came home. Sometimes you stayed over for dinner but you always preferred when Lance came to your house. His dad made you nervous, always raising his voice over little things.

Soon after your mother had to make different arrangements for you after school, signing you up for activities when you could no longer be picked up with Lance. Dorothy had signed him up for gymnastics at a professional school so you were only able to see him at recess and on the weekends when he wasn’t training.

You looked forward to summer vacation because although Lance was still training you had much more time together than when school was in session. You spent every day together, with Lance attempting to teach you some gymnastics, laughing as your backwards roll was always lopsided, or sitting cross legged on the living room floor, playing with the Nintendo your Aunt bought you for the days that tropical storms roared outside.

One day you were swimming together in your pool as your mother kept her eyes on you.

“I’m gonna go to the Olympics!” Lance said as he pushed himself off the wall of the pool and swam before reaching the deep end.

“What’s an oh limp pick?” you questioned, laughing as you dunked your head back to wet your hair, his response slightly muffled as your ears went below the surface of the water.

“Oh yeah well when I grow up I’m gonna be a mermaid!”

“You can’t be a mermaid. They’re not real!”

“Uh huh they are real. I saw them. MOOOOOOM!” you shouted for her, “Tell Lance about the mermaids, we saw them!”

Chuckling under her breath at your response she told Lance she had in fact taken you to see mermaids but she didn’t clarify if they were real or not. You both came out of the water, wrapping towels around you as she brought out a plate of fruit for you to share. A smile graced her face as she watched you together knowing your friendship was special.

A few years had gone by and Lance had begun competing every few months. Though his father hated the sport (not that he ever considered gymnastics as a sport) he was at least able to tell his son the importance of winning despite his coach saying otherwise.

After a long car ride back to Spring Hill Dorothy gently woke Lance who stirred in the back seat of their station wagon. When he saw their driveway he ran out of the car and across the street to your house. Lance was buzzing with excitement as he waited for someone to answer the door. Your dad greeted him, allowing him in before waving to his parents across the street. Lance dashed across the living room, quickly shouting hello to your mother who could only laugh as he ran towards your room.

“Y/N!” he beamed.

Your head shot up from the book you were reading, looking at Lance and his proud smile. He held out a ribbon of red, white and blue with a gold medal dangling below.

“I won the gold!”

You screamed with excitement, jumping up and down with him. “That’s amazing! I wish I could have seen you,” you pouted. You had asked your parents to go to Lance’s competition but they had plans that day.

“Here,” he said, reaching his arm out towards you, “I want you to have it.”

“Really?” you said, your mouth dropping open in surprise.

Lance nodded back and you wrapped your arms around him for a hug. You grabbed your favorite teddy bear, draping the medal around it and placing it proudly on your bed. Lance’s heart began to swell, knowing how much you’ve supported him over the last few years. Even though you couldn’t be there for his win he knew instantly how much he wanted you to have his first medal.

Lance remembered that smile of yours, the way you lit up with pride and joy for his first win. He loved that smile, how it would light up even the darkest rooms and bring him happiness. He swallows harshly, remembering the day that smile faded. He hadn’t thought about it in a while, he didn’t ever want to remember. Memories came flooding back when he returned to Spring Hill, sweet and bitter. He didn’t want to come back here but he had to, and now after everything he’s been through he’s come too far to fail.

He exhales deeply, resigning to the fact that he needs you, or that he needs the coverage you can provide. He doesn’t need you, just like you didn’t need him. Your email was all business, not a single acknowledgement of your history, just the task at hand. So he buries the past away, covering up all of his emotions, bottling the guilt that kept bubbling up at the sight of your name. This was just business he reminded himself as he replied to your email in an equally blunt manner to make arrangements for you to meet.

PART 3

[kevintor]

I Watch a Movie I Should Have Seen: “The Cutting Edge”

I knew this was about a hockey player who got paired up with a figure skater. I assumed they fell in love and you know what happens when you assume? You get it right!

My thoughts:

D.B. Sweeney (Doug) is late for his Olympic hockey game because he asked his one night stand to set the alarm. Always set an alarm yourself especially if you’re going to go to Bonetown. After a woman’s world has been rocked, she can’t be held responsible for setting alarms. Poor planning on Doug’s part.

SIDE NAME NOTE: Doug is a solid U.S. hockey player name.

Moira Kelly (Kate) is a hotheaded figure skater who can’t find a partner that can handle her hotheadedness. Man, she’s so hotheaded.

SIDE NAME NOTE: I know the name Kate is a reference to “Taming of the Shrew” but I can already tell “!0 Things I Hate About You” did this better. I don’t think Moira Kelly is going to throw it down to Biggie’s “Hypnotize” in this movie. UPDATE: She didn’t.

Kate’s dad is the guy from Lost with the mustache of a guy who ties women to train tracks in silent pictures.

The action of the Olympic hockey game is as exciting as it is blurry.

The West Germany team checks Doug into the boards one at a time like a Conga line of 4 minute double minors. We know he is badly hurt because his helmet flies across the ice and spins in slow motion for a long time. His head is not inside it.

Kate also falls down in her Olympic routine. They’re both failures!

Doug has a permanent blind spot as a result of the successive checks. He’ll never play hockey at a high level again. You know what you don’t need good vision for? Olympic pairs figure skating!

We cut to two years later. Doug receives his 23rd letter from an NHL team telling him he can’t play for them. I knew he didn’t get in. It wasn’t a fat envelope. Did he apply for the NHL via paperwork? Is there an application? “Dear Mets, please let me play second base. I got a 1300 on my SATs.”

Kate has a new Russian coach who has run out of options. Kate has tried and failed with 35 male partners. At one point does one look within oneself to think maybe she is the problem? Infinity partners? Probably infinity partners. Either way, Doug is number 36.

Doug and Kate don’t like each other initially. I bet they never will. Unless they grow to like each other over the course of four montages placed so closely together that I’m not sure there was any non-montage scenes in between them. (Movies should have one montage.)

I would like to see if the legwarmer budget on this was greater than “Flashdance.” Obviously, you’d have to factor in 9 years of dancewear price inflation.

Of course we find out Kate has a boyfriend and of course, it’s the ghost of Kevin Costner’s baseball dad.

Doug is invited to the family’s New Year’s party. At midnight, Kate hugs her own dad first. Then she kisses her Ghost Dad boyfriend later. Doug should probably not fall in love with her. She’s got a lot of stuff to work out.

Kate wears a lot of turtlenecks. She must have a ton of Ghost Dad hickeys.

At Nationals, Kate runs into her former partner. His current partner is into Doug. We know this because her eyes shoot out of her head like a cartoon, her hat flies up in the air while steam comes out of her ears, and she yells, “Hubba! Hubba!.” This isn’t what really happened but that’s the vibe the actress was subtly putting out there.

Doug and Kate get into the Olympics because people fell. They party by getting lit on shots. More shots than Kate’s tiny body should be able to do. Before the alcohol poisoning kicks in, Kate throws herself at Doug. He does the honorable thing of not boinking her and boinking the ex-partner’s partner instead.

Russian coach shows them his secret plans for the greatest skate routine in history. It has a move that no one can complete. It’s borderline “illegal.” They try it anyway. During practice, Kate must die 40 times.

Doug and Kate clearly love each other. I don’t get why this is so hard. They just have to do the murder move and then he kisses her gold medal winning corpse at the end.

Doug tells Kate #41 he loves her right before they skate. It’s perfect timing. Everyone likes to get life-changing news right before the biggest moment of their lives.

They complete the murder move for the first time. They should win the gold medal for defying the laws of physics.

The movie ends with them inappropriately kissing on the Olympic ice and we don’t find out if they win. They probably got deductions for the disrespectful make out session.

This movie was a formulaic romance movie. Two people who don’t like each other spend enough time together and they fall in love. That’s how I got my wife. D.B. Sweeney and Moira Kelly are very likable. I didn’t dislike it. It just didn’t surprise me in any way.

[insideabunker]

The Games: Chapter 5

"A mere five days since the opening ceremony here at the Pyeongchang Winter Olympics, and already athletes from around the world have astounded us with seemingly superhuman feats of strength and skill."

The television screen flickered and gleamed, illuminating the faces in the darkened lounge in an ethereal blue glow.  From ever couch and chair, athletes watched as the clips flashed past on the screen, searching for their faces among the event highlights.

"There I am!"  A 16-year-old from Quebec pointed eagerly at the screen where a clip played of a tiny snowboarder, flying over the side of a halfpipe as he grabbed the front of his board and spun in the air.

"There's been no shortage of heartbreak either, with several heavily favored athletes going home empty-handed in their final Olympics."

A scruffy Luger in the front row of couches sighed, watching himself cross the finish line a tenth of a second shy of a medal.  A shaggy-haired skier just behind him placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Your run was still a beauty Sammy. No shame in that."

"Here at the Coastal Cluster in Gangneung, South Korea, all attention seems focused on the highly anticipated preliminary matchup between the U.S. and Canadian women's hockey teams."

In an armchair in the back of the room, Lexa shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  Try as she might, it had been impossible to drown out the media's furor over the upcoming game.  All week long, the predictions and opinions of commentators had been buzzing in her ears like a million tiny mosquitos, refusing to be silenced and impossible to swat away.

"The two powerhouses meet tomorrow, in a contest which is sure to incite pure pandemonium among spectators.  Both teams are overflowing with talent and likely candidates for Olympic medals.  Who will leave PyeongChang with Gold, however, is perhaps the most hotly contested subject of this Olympics.  For predictions on that subject, we turn to longtime Olympic hockey commentator Liam McHugh.  Liam, welcome to the show."

"Thank you, Jim.  It's nice to be here again."

"Liam, I'd like to get right down to it.  What do you think the significance of this preliminary game is?"

"Well, Jim, I suspect that it will set a precedent for the level of play we're going to see going forward into the medal rounds.  Among the competitors in PyeongChang, there's a sense that any team looking to win gold needs to go through the U.S. or Canada.  Frankly, no two teams go at it harder than these two, so if they kick it up a few notches during this game, I suspect that’s where the effort will stay throughout the medal round.  It should make for some very exciting hockey.

"What do you think the chances are that we'll see a repeat of the U.S. vs. Canada final from Sochi?"

"I'd say the odds are pretty good.  Since women's hockey was introduced in 1998, there has only been one Olympics in which the U.S. and Canada haven't ended up fighting one another for the gold medal."

"That was Turin?"

"Yes, in 2006.  Now, when you look at this on an international play level, ranking aside, it's construable that either team is the most dominant women's program in the world.  Canada has a slight lead regarding numbers, ten IIHF titles to the United States eight, but of those World Championships, the United States has won the past four.

"Liam, it sounds like there's a but in there."

"But... As far as Olympic Hockey goes there is no question; Canada's been the reigning powerhouse for some time.  In twenty years of Women's Olympic Ice Hockey, Canada has won gold in four out of the five games.  The U.S. hasn't stood at the top of the medals podium since 1998, and frankly, if they lose tomorrow's game, it isn’t likely they will this year either.

"You don't think that a preliminary defeat will get the American's fired up even harder?"

"I doubt it, Jim. So far the United States managed a two-point victory over Finland and beat the Olympic Athletes from Russia, handily, six to one.  As for Canada, they've had shutouts in their first two, thanks to this new goalie of theirs.  But, neither one has been put through the paces the way you'd want building up to a contest like tomorrow's matchup.  I think the shift in play from low to high gear is going to come as a wake-up call for both teams, and if the U.S. loses, it would significantly bolster team Canada's considerable confidence going into the medal round. That doesn't mean that Team USA is guaranteed a loss in the medal round, but it would create a significant psychological obstacle.

"So what you're saying is, the American girls have a game to win if they want to stay competitive."

"Well, at the very least they need to make it a close one.  If Canada forces another scoreless game, it's going to make their seemingly unbeatable defense that much more of a challenge from here on out.  The U.S. could overcome a loss tomorrow if, at the very least, they manage to break Lexa Woods' shutout streak.  In my opinion, everything hinges on that."

"Speaking of Lexa Woods, we managed to get a brief interview with the phenom yesterday after Canada's victory over Finland."

The picture changed again, and Lexa cringed as she saw herself onscreen, goalie mask tucked under her arm, her brow pouring sweat, her face red and splotchy from overexertion, her hair a tangled mess of brown rat's nests.  She squinted into the camera light, awkwardly attempting to push matted, sweaty locks out of her eyes with the back of her arm.

"So, two shutouts so far. How does that feel?"

"Um... Good, I guess."

"Are you surprised?"

"Not really.  I transitioned to the national team from the OHL, so I'm used to a style of play that's a bit more fast paced if I'm being honest; certainly more physical. I think that gives me an advantage that makes shutouts more likely at this level."

"And I'm sure that your team's defensemen have contributed significantly to that success. Wouldn't you say?"  The reporter subtly attempted to lead the goalie towards a more egalitarian breakdown of team Canada's success, smiling as she held the mic closer.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, they've definitely contributed."

Lexa cringed as she listened to herself, realizing that she sounded more than a little cocksure.  She was confident that if any of her teammates were watching, she'd catch hell later.

"What an ass."  Lexa heard a speed skater a few rows up whisper to the curler next to him.  She scowled, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt up a bit further to hide her face.  People could talk about her if they liked. She was more than used to it.

A body settled into the next chair over, nudging her in the side as an arm extended, offering her a bag full of popcorn.

"Echo's been pretty strong on the back-check. You couldn't have been a little more generous about her performance?"  Lincoln smirked, leaning in and cocking an eyebrow quizzically.

"I panicked! You know I'm terrible at interviews."

Under his breath, Lincoln let out a low "Humph," in agreement.  "Well, I hope your terrible interview demeanor doesn't get you in hot water with your teammates."

Lexa shrunk down in her chair, crossing her arms as she cast a sullen glance in Lincoln's direction.  "I doubt they could dislike me any more than they already do.  They're all off together watching the Men's halfpipe qualifiers."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"Because they got tickets and didn't tell me." She crossed her arms, sinking even further into the armchair.

"So... things not going so well, eh?" Lincoln bit his lip hesitantly. Never quite sure how to handle his childhood friend when she was in the mood to sulk and feel sorry for herself.

Lexa frowned. "Obviously not."  She furrowed her brow, seething at the frustratingly amused look on Lincoln's face.  "How did you get in here anyway?  I thought you were supposed to be at your hotel with Dante?"

Lincoln held up an all-access visitors pass, turning his attention back to the flat screen, where commentators were still discussing the game.

"Well Jim, I think the primary difference is the team dynamics. Canada has been relying heavily on the individual skills of their players, but all of those players are extraordinarily good at what they do, and nearly all are Olympic veterans.  Team USA has fewer seasoned players, but on the other hand, they play seamlessly together.  Their system and team dynamics are terrific, their coaching staff is outstanding, and their current on-ice leadership is, in my opinion, phenomenal.

"Speaking of that leadership, we were able to catch Team USA's Captain, Clarke Griffin, earlier today for a quick interview."

Clarke appeared on screen, looking frustratingly natural on camera as she stood outside the dorms of the Olympic Village in the falling snow. She rubbed her irritatingly well-formed button nose, bright red from the chill of the frigid air, with the back of a mitten-clad hand, cupping her face politely as she let out an absurdly dainty sneeze.  The whole scene only made her seem even more infuriatingly charming than she already did.

"So, how do you feel going into your game with the Canadian team?"

“I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit anxious to play one of the best teams in the world, but having said that, I am so confident in my team that it makes it hard to be too nervous.  There's an old expression that I think sums my feeling up well.  'If you want to be number one, you have to train like you are number two.'  That's really where our mindset has been since the Sochi games, and in particular for the past year.  Every woman on team USA has given 100% and thrown everything she has into preparing for this moment.  We trained to be the best, and we trained to beat the best, and I think that's what people are going to see tomorrow."

"Gotta say, she's pretty hot, ya know?"

"Do you have something useful to add?"  Lexa stared at him skeptically.

"And what do you think about the hype surrounding Canada's goalie, Lexa Woods?  How do you feel about going up against someone who's been playing primarily in men's leagues?  Do you think that has given Canada an unfair advantage?"

Lexa bit the inside of her cheek, anxiously waiting for the subtle prejudice of the question to creep under Clarke's skin, making her come unglued on camera.  She watched as the blonde paused, calm on the surface, though her irritation showed around the edges.  For half a minute Clarke remained silent.

"You know."  She paused briefly to tuck a few strands of golden hair behind her ear.  "A lot of people have been talking about this recently, and the truth is I'm not sure it's a useful discussion to be having."

The reporter leaned in curiously. "Can you elaborate on that."

"Sure, I mean... Every time this gets brought up it seems to unravel into a discussion of physical differences and biology and what women can and can't do as well compared to men.  Honestly, I wonder if we're not asking the wrong question altogether."

"What question should we be asking?"

"Well, for starters, we should be asking why women's abilities are always defined by their approximation to men's.  Why do we have to appraise women's skills and talents by saying that they are "strong for a girl," or "as good as a man?"  I don't think that is useful to anyone.  I mean women and men are different.  Obviously, we're different.  In the same way that we solve problems and communicate differently, women and men play hockey differently.  Different doesn't mean worse; it just means different.  We play our own game. We play it with skill, and with passion and every woman here is phenomenal at what she does. If that's not enough for fans, then they're welcome to watch the men’s game instead.”

Lexa leaned forward, watching as Clarke paused again.  She took a deep breath to help maintain her calm, smooth demeanor.  

"More importantly, to suggest that Lexa Woods is a remarkable goalie because she's been playing with men is to more or less give men credit for her talent. That is misguided. Lexa Woods is an extraordinary goalie because she has extraordinary ability and, from what I hear, she works her ass off.  That, thus far, she's been able to keep up in this new arena only means that's she's that much more versatile.  Frankly, I would have suspected that a men's goalie would have struggled to adjust switching to the women's game."

"Well, Lexa Woods sure hasn't been struggling so far.  In fact, she's just recorded her second NGA performance against Russia.  When we spoke to her earlier today she seemed confident that she could stretch that shutout streak to three."

Clarke laughed bitterly, piquing the reporter's interest.

"Uh-oh, sounds like we've got a little bit of a rivalry in the works here."

"I mean, so far Canada has played Finland and Russia, and while both are great teams defensively, they've also lost some critical offensive players in the past few years.  Moreover, Canada has defensemen like Echo Cote who, despite our history, is in my opinion, one of the best defensive players in the world. I think that she has contributed as much as Lexa Woods has to those shutouts."

Lincoln elbowed Lexa in the ribs.  "See, she talks about the team as a whole.  She gets it."

Lexa scowled at him, sticking out her tongue.

"As far as Team USA goes, we play effective two-way hockey, and we've got some unbelievably good young forwards. I don't think Lexa Woods has had to contend with a strong offense yet. Woods seems to favor a stand-up style of goaltending that's effective against screening and shots from the point, but I don't think she'd used to having players crashed the net as hard as we do.  I guess we'll have to see how she handles herself."

Lexa frowned, pushing herself out of her chair in disgust.  "We'll see alright."

Lincoln shook his head, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth as he watched Lexa trudge out of the room in a huff. 

It was rare for a competitor's comments to bother Lexa as much as this Griffin women’s seemed to.  Whatever it was about her, the American Captain certainly rattled Lexa's cage in a way few others had managed.

"Two minutes to go here in the third period and we've got a real nail-biter on our hand’s folks, with Canada leading the U.S. 1-0."

A Canadian defenseman slid the puck out to the point, where it was picked up by Echo.

"Côté drifts into the slot.  She winds up, shoots, and..." The announcer paused as the shot whizzed through the air.  "Save! It's a brilliant glove save by Raven Reyes.  She saw that one coming from a mile away, ladies and gentleman."

Fog filled the air as the panting players crouched around the face-off circle, steam rising from their bodies as they waited for the puck to drop out of the referee's hand.  It hit the ice with a hollow thud, and the rink once again erupted into a chaotic confusion of colliding bodies.  The crunching of skates as they cut through the ice was deafening with the forwards fighting for an opening.  Clarke snagged the puck and sent it gliding over to Harper who made a sharp cut behind the net, eyes trained piercingly on Octavia, already cutting towards the boards, ready for a pass.  The puck sailed across the ice with precision, landing deftly on the left wing's stick just in time for her to slip past a hulking defenseman.  The freshman forward flew across the neutral zone like a lightning bolt, Canada's players hot on her trail.  She crossed the blue line alone, dropping low in the slot and cutting right at the last minute to try and sneak a backhand by the Canadian goalie.

The slap of vulcanized rubber hitting wood filled the arena as the puck deflected off her stick.  Lexa dropped to her knees, covering it with a gloved hand as she waited for the whistle to sound. Three sharp blasts signaled a stoppage in gameplay, much to Lexa's great relief.  She watched as Echo skated towards her casually, smirking at her through her face cage.

"You just gave them a face-off in our zone with a minute and a half left in the game. Wait to go, Woods."

Lexa pulled off her goalie mask and slammed it down on top of the net.  She desperately grabbed at the water bottle that hung in the loose mesh, using it to wet down her sweat soaked face.

"Seriously, Côté?  I wouldn't have had to force a whistle if you'd been here five seconds ago!  You've been dragging ass on the back-check all night, and I can barely get help in front of the net when they've got the puck in our zone.  What the hell is wrong with all of you?"

Echo narrowed her eyes at the goalie, leaning on the goal post as she bent forward, sneering.  "Oh, I'm sorry.  Are we not contributing enough for you?"

Lexa's eyes nearly popped out of her head.  She threw her water bottle back into the netting and surged forward, pushing Echo away from the goal.  "Are you fucking kidding me right now?!  Is that why I've taken 47 shots to Reyes’ 29?"

She spat water onto the ice, inching forward as though she was ready to pummel her towering defenseman.  "You're fucking letting them take shots on me to teach me a lesson?"

Echo winked at her contemptuously, turning Lexa’s face crimson.

"How's that working out for you, Woods?"

"I'll tell you when I finish this shutout!"

Before Lexa could completely lose her temper, a referee intervened, skating between the two women and eyeballing them suspiciously.

"That's enough squabbling ladies.  We've got a face-off.”

Echo nodded at the man, pausing just long enough before he fell back into position to give Lexa a final derisive glare.

"Do your job Côté!" Lexa yelled at her retreating teammate, pulling her face mask back on and crouched between the pipes.

The puck dropped, and a wall of bodies smashed into each other once more, a symphony of slashing and crunching filling the air as both teams dug in and fought for ownership.  Finally, Gaia managed to knock the puck back to Echo, who sailed around the goal and sent it shooting out to a forward along the boards.

The players shifted across the ice as each one pursued the puck carrier into the American zone.  The forward went low, flipping around at the red line and banking a shot off the boards to her defenseman.  The crack of a slap-shot rang out, followed by the ping of metal as the puck ricocheted off the goal post and went careening into the sea of players clustered in front of the net.  It was knocked loose by a skate, sliding into the corner as Harper, and a Canadian forward following close behind.  They crashed into one another hard, the glass rattling as their bodies struck the boards and battled for control of the disk.  In a moment of panic, the Canadian forward began to lose her composure, reaching out an arm to create space and maintain her balance.  Her hand grabbed the first solid object on which it found purchase, the shaft of Harper's stick, eliciting an immediate whistle blast from the referee.  

"Number 21; holding the stick; two-minute penalty!"  The referee held up a hand pointing to the benches with his other.  A yelling match between him and the Canadian coach ensued, and in the brief downtime, Kane waved his arm, calling his players back towards the bench for a moment of strategizing.

"There's still forty seconds left, and we've got a golden opportunity here."  He turned to his captain, his expression deadly serious "Griffin, you're my quarterback on this power play.  How confident do you feel?"

Clarke splashed her face with water, giving him a curt nod before she lowered the cage of her helmet and answered.  "We've got this, Coach."

Kane winked.  "Then go get 'em, ladies."

With a few slaps on the shoulders for good luck, the American players departed the bench.  They glided back over to the face-off circle and hunkered down, staring back and forth at each other intently, their tension palpable as the referee skated into position.

The moment the puck hit the ice the world fell shock silent, every spectator in the stands holding their breath in anticipation, the only sound in the rink the voice of the announcer as he called the play by play.

"Back to the corner and it's Griffin and Côté fighting for the puck.  Griffin with control now. A pass to McIntyre on the point.  McIntyre drifts high in the slot and takes a shot and... Oh! It rebounds off of Anderson, but the Canadians can't get it back on the pine.  The puck is picked up by Blake. Blake back to Cooper at the left point.  Cooper passes to McIntyre.  McIntyre winds up and...  She fakes!  McIntyre fakes, and now the American women seem to be shifting positions. McIntyre transitions to the left point with right winger Johnson moving to the right point from low in the zone.  A pass to Johnson with three seconds left.  Johnson glides to the top of the face-off circle and...  She shoots!"

At that moment, Lexa felt as though the world had shifted into slow motion.  Through the screen of players lingering in front of the net, she watched as Johnson wound back and swung her stick forward with all the force of a wrecking ball.  She heard the crack of the slap-shot reverberated through the arena, saw the puck cutting through the air as it flew at her, a perfect spinning disk, high and to the right.  She raised her blocker reflexively, deflecting the puck, and sending it floating high over her left shoulder and out of sight.  Suddenly everything sped up.  There was a flash of an arm catching the puck mid arm, a split second of a swinging stick, and the ding of metal as the puck grazed the crossbar and sailed into the net.  Only then was the silence of the rink finally broken, shattered by the horrifying sound of a goal horn going off.

"And they score!  The Americans score! Oh, my goodness!  What was that!?  American captain Clarke Griffin scores in the craziest rebound return I think I've ever seen, folks."

Lexa could only stare, shocked, as a startled Clarke was enveloped in her teammates' embraces, their faces brimming with gleeful revelry.  Standing in front of the referee yelling, Echo looked like a volcano ready to erupt.  She gestured wildly, pointing this way and that as she yelled something about high sticking and touching the puck.  Over the loudspeakers, an announcer said that they were going to a video review, his voice mumbled as though he were an adult in a Peanuts cartoon.

The world finally came back into focus, and Lexa turned her eyes to a nearby monitor, where the final moments of the game were being played back from every available angle.  She watched in horror as the puck rebounded off her block and was knocked out of the air by Clarke's outstretched hand.  In the millisecond it took for the puck to drop to the level of her mid-torso, Clarke had grabbed her stick, swung it, and made direct contact with the black blob on the screen, knocking it past Lexa's glove side and into the goal as though it were a baseball.  Over and over again, Lexa watched the incredible scene; her jaw slacks with awe as she realized that Clarke's stick had indeed been below the level of the crossbar, making the shot a legitimate one.

The referee waved his arms declaring the goal fair.  The commentator excitedly announced that the game was going into overtime.  The fans exploded into a mixed chorus of cheers and booing.  Lexa could only stare at Clarke, wholly unable to process the impossible feat she had just witnessed the too-small American center perform.  Through the sea of bodies crowding her, Clarke stared back, smiling defiantly.

Next Chapter ->

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*For those wanting clarification on what Clarke’ s goal would look like, or if you are wondering whether or not this kind of “baseball goal” is something that actually happens in hockey, here is a link to a video of the real-life play that inspired it.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VBcKHrTyG0I