#but this season is still wide open as far as who could be the winner but Joseph like as awkward is he is actually makes efforts to do things

[sexologii]

imma keep it real, I’m coming around on Big Joe being the winner of the season

[harley-sunday]

Feels Like Home [01]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2.7k

AN: Yes. Hi. Hello. Believe it or not but I started writing this fic because I desperately needed some good guy!Daniel being cute with kids in my life. The idea was just a short one shot. Ha. Who was I kidding? Because here we are, six months and nine chapters later... I really hope you like it, please come yell at me in the comments, on anon, or in my DMs about any and all things about this story you want to yell at me about. I probably deserve it. ♥

Masterlist

There’s something about being here, on his farm outside of Perth, that he doesn’t experience anywhere else in the world. Not in Monaco, not in Los Angeles, not even in Austin, or Montana. 

Because here- Here, he doesn’t have to be Daniel Ricciardo, Danny Ric, DR, or the Honey Badger. He doesn’t have to be a Formula One driver, an eight-time race winner, the most beloved driver on the grid, and the fan favourite. He doesn’t have to be Red Bull’s wild card, Renault’s saviour, or, most recently, McLaren’s scapegoat. Here, he is Daniel. And it’s enough. 

Or, at least, it used to be.

Lately, there's been a yearning in his heart that he's unfamiliar with. Or he pretends to be anyway because he’s not ready to put it into words yet, not ready to speak into existence what he really wants from life. Afraid he'll jinx it if he does. 

And so he keeps it to himself and lets his heart ache for something more in silence while the life he does know slowly keeps on falling apart around him.

***

Daniel rests his wrists on the handlebar of his dirt bike and lets out a breath he seems to have been holding in ever since he retired on lap forty-five of the Monza Grand Prix four days ago. Looking out over the valley below, he feels more grounded than he has in a long time and he hopes that the next two weeks will give him the peace he so desperately needs after the shitshow that has been his season so far. 

The sun’s already low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the somewhat still barren trees and shrubs even though he can tell winter is slowly coming to an end from the sprouts of green that have started to grace the landscape with their presence. There’s a kookaburra laughing somewhere in the distance and he takes it as his cue to fire up his engine again for one last run around his dirt track before it gets too dark. 

He knows technically he isn’t supposed to ride his bike during the season, knows technically McLaren could issue him a hefty fine for breaching his contract, but if they ever were to find out he figures they can just take it out of the settlement they’re due to pay him at the end of the year. He’s promised Zak he’ll do whatever it takes to score as many points as possible in the last six races but he also decided early on that he’s no longer going to let the team dictate what he can or cannot do in his time away from the track. 

There’s a meeting tomorrow, with Blake and Michael, where they’ll try to figure out his future in Formula One. There have been a few offers, both from teams who want him as their second driver and from teams who want him to become their reserve driver, but he’s still undecided, not sure if he wants to settle for another midfield team or stay in Formula One without really being in Formula One. 

By the time he completes his lap his head is somewhat empty, too busy instead to focus on keeping his bike under control and not ending up in the dirt. It’s almost dark now and so he opens the throttle wide and guns it home, a race against an invisible clock that, unlike this past season in Formula One, he wins every single time.

Once his bike is safely back in the shed he makes his way over to the house, hosing his boots down before he takes them off at the back door and leaves them to dry on the shoe rack his Dad made for him when he bought the farm. He changes out of his gear in the mud room, making a face when he takes his socks off and catches a whiff of the smell but laughing then because he remembers them smelling so much worse after a race in, oh let’s say, Singapore. With nothing but his boxer shorts on he steps into the kitchen and heads straight for the fridge, taking out an ice cold bottle of water. The sigh of relief when he rolls it against the back of his neck almost obscene. It might be winter but temperatures in western Australia are still as high as a beautiful spring day in Monaco.

It’s then the intercom rings and for a moment he debates ignoring it, not sure if he’s up for telling yet another local journo looking to make it big by trying to get an interview with ‘shunned McLaren driver Daniel Ricciardo’ that now really isn’t a good time  and that any requests for interviews should be made through Blake anyway.  

Plus, he gave his family and friends the access code to the gate when it was first installed, so he doubts any of them are waiting for him to open it, not in the least because they know better than to just show up without a text or call in advance.  

In the end, his curiosity gets the better of him and so he walks over to where the control panel of his alarm system hangs in the living room and pushes the button needed to connect to whoever’s at the gate, “Hello?”

“Hi,” the screen comes on then, the black and white image showing a woman wearing a Stetson hat. She’s staring somewhere into the distance, her face obscured by the shadows the brim of her hat casts under the streetlight, but her voice comes through loud and clear, “Sorry to bother you this late-”

“It’s seven thirty,” he shoots back almost effortlessly.

“-but I wondered if I could maybe ask you to keep it down with the dirt biking a little?” 

“I’m sorry, what?”

She looks up and into the camera then, pushing her hat a little higher so he can finally see her eyes, “It’s just- We’ve got a flock of alpacas over in Eagle's Nest and they tend to get a little jittery from all the noise. Especially when they try to settle in for the night and-”

“I’m sorry,“ he can’t help but grin, running a hand through his hair, “but I’m going to need a little more context here.”

She laughs and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and so he’s a little distracted but then he sees her taking her hat off, revealing her face and- Fuck. She’s gorgeous. He watches her as she shakes her head, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips, “Shit, sorry. I probably should have given you a bit more to go on.” Putting her hat back on she straightens up and points to somewhere over her shoulder, “Your neighbour on that side, Oscar Linton? He’s my granddad. I think you know him, right?”

“Old man Linton!” He smiles and nods, “Of course I do.” When he first bought the farm he made sure to introduce himself to his neighbours and while he likes to think he has a good relationship with all three of them he’s always had a soft spot for the elderly man further up the road. So much so that he always makes sure to drop by for a chat whenever he finds himself back in Perth. It’s then he connects the dots and recognises her from some of the pictures Oscar has up in his living room. All of a sudden he feels guilty for not going to see his neighbour yet even though he has been home for two days already but maybe he can do that tomorrow or-

“He fell a few days ago-” her voice pulls him out of his thoughts unintentionally and his guilt triples in a matter of seconds. There’s a sad smile tugging on her lips which makes him prepare for the worst. 

Surely they would have let him know if- He remembers the pile of unopened letters waiting for him on the kitchen counter then and curses quietly, “Shit.”

“He’s ok,” she’s quick to reassure him, as if she knows what he was thinking. “He spent a couple of nights in hospital and still has a long way to go but at least he’s home again.” She takes a deep breath, “They had to replace his hip and he’s got a broken wrist but,” she shrugs, “it could have been worse.” 

It’s then the absurdity of the situation hits him, with him in his boxers in his living room and her on the other end of his kilometre-long driveway, talking into a metallic box. He shakes his head and pushes the button that opens the gate automatically, “I think maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation over an intercom. I could make you a cup of coffee if you want? Or something stronger? I make a mean-”

She bites her lip and seems to hesitate.

“Just a quick cuppa. It’s the neighbourly thing to do, right?”

He sees her nod, “Yeah, ok.”

He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, “Happy days.” 

***

The house is not at all how you expect it to be, much more modern and open-planned than any of the other farm houses in the area. The west-facing wall has been completely redone in glass panels, offering a stunning view of the valley and surrounding paddocks and you can’t help but admire the interior design of both the kitchen and the living room, which is masculine but still inviting. You wonder if he decorated the place himself or if he hired some interior designer to do it for him.

“Here you go,” Daniel, who told you ‘You can call me Dan’ when he greeted you at the door with a bright smile and an outstretched hand- offers you a cup of steaming hot coffee and motions for you to join him at the kitchen table. He’s wearing white sweatpants and a matching white sweater that look incredibly comfy and that make you want to wrap yourself around him and hang onto him like a koala bear. Wait. What? 

You take your hat off to try and keep from ogling him, placing  it on the chair next to you before you sit down and smile at him, “You know, all these years I thought you were called Danny Ric because that’s what Granddad keeps calling you. I’m not sure I can get used to Daniel.” 

Daniel laughs, the laughter lines in the corners of his eyes even more prominent now, “Trust the old man to keep that gag going.” He shakes his head then, “I can’t believe he fell though.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, blowing into your coffee. “We’re lucky Mrs Mackenzie found him when she did or-” You let out a ragged breath and see him nod, his eyes kind, and it makes you continue, “His hip was completely shattered and his wrist is broken in three places so it’s going to take a while before he’s up and running again- I mean, if his new hip ever heals completely- He’s already seventy-eight so-” You hear yourself starting to ramble and so you fold your hands around your cup and try to calm down a little. You’re not even sure why you’re even telling him all of this, but he’s a friend of your granddad and so you figure he’s good people. “Mum and Dad wanted to come back from New Zealand to help out but-” you look up at Daniel and shrug, “I spent a lot of time on the farm as a kid, right until I left for uni, so it made much more sense for me to move in with him for the time being.” 

“That’s a pretty big thing to do,” Daniel says with a kind smile, a warmth to his brown eyes that you can feel yourself get lost in. “You sure your family can miss you that long?”

You don’t really know what he’s getting at, whether he’s talking about your Mum and Dad or the husband and kids he thinks you might have left behind to come back to Mundaring, and you don’t really know you want to tell him your truth either, after all you’ve just met him, so in the end you shake your head and settle on an honest, “I’ve got everything I need right here.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t push it and instead he says, “If you’d have me I’d love to come over to see him some time. I’m still here for almost another two weeks  and-” 

“I’m sure he’d like that,” you offer with a smile. “He always tells me what a nice bloke you are.”

Daniel leans back in his chair and grins, spreading his arms, “Can’t say I blame him. I’m the best.” 

“He says the same thing about the postie,” you tease with a casual shrug, “so don’t get too excited.” 

“Ouch,” Daniel brings a hand to his chest, “that hurts.” 

You pout, “So sad.” 

“Very,” Daniel agrees quietly, trying his best to keep a straight face. He puts his arms on the table then and leans forward, “Before you stomp on my ego some more, why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here. What’s up with that eagle’s nest over in some paddock?”

“Oof,” you pull a face and shake your head, “you were so close.” You can’t help but laugh when you see him pretend to be hurt at your comment. You take a sip of coffee before you explain, pointing in the general direction of your paddock, “Your dirt track borders Eagle's Nest, the paddock Granddad uses for the alpacas in September and October, and I guess normally it isn’t a problem because you usually aren’t home during this time of year but I heard you yesterday and today and-”

“Yeah, we had an unexpected three-week break this year so I figured-” Daniel waves his hand around for you to continue then.

“It’s just, we have three pregnant females this year and- I don’t know if you’re at all familiar with alpacas?”

He shakes his head, “I didn’t even know you guys had alpacas. Your granddad and I just tend to talk shit about Mrs Mackenzie and them over a cuppa but I've never really asked him about the farm to be honest."

You throw him a look, knowing all too well your granddad doesn’t drink coffee.

He quickly backs down, “Fine, I drink coffee, he drinks tea.” 

“There you go,” you mouth with a wink. “Anyway, alpacas are basically scared of everything, even their own shadow, so you know, someone riding a dirt bike close by doesn’t really help with keeping them nice and calm during these last few weeks of their pregnancy.” 

“Gotcha.”

“They’re usually out on the other side of the paddock during the day, so anything until five in the afternoon is fine” you offer, not wanting to deprive him of his hobby completely, “but we have their feeders and the shed they can hide in during the night out over in your corner, so-”

“You’re giving me a five pm curfew, basically,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Just until the end of October.” You bite your lip, “I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Nah, no worries,” Daniel puts his hand on your forearm and gives it a squeeze to let you know he means it. “I’d do anything for old Oscar.” Then, with a grin he adds, “And his girls.” 

You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks and try to hide it with a smile, “Thank you.”

He squeezes your arm again, “He’s gonna be fine by the way. He’s tough, that one.”

“Speaking of Granddad,” you risk a quick glance at your watch, letting you know it’s almost eight fifteen, “I should probably head back.” You push your chair back and grab your hat, putting it on as you tell Daniel, “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Anytime,” he says with a grin as he stands up as well, following you to the front door. “Tell him I’ll come by soon, ok?”

“Will do.” You turn around then and smile again, something about not getting your hopes up but doing so anyway when you ask, “I’ll see you around then?”

Daniel tips his imaginary hat, “Yes ma’am.” 

[jrpneblog]

Only a point but improvement continues

I pondered on the way home from this game whether it was two points lost or a point won and I must say after being two up it could easily have felt like two points lost. However I thought Norwich were the best side we had seen in the league at Deepdale this season and when they equalised I would have gladly taken a point. It was an enjoyable game to watch with emotions to-ing and fro-ing as the goals went in, but at the end of the day it was probably the right result even though we had the better chances to win the game. Goals from Greenwood and Holmes put North End 2-0 up inside twelve minutes but the huge amount of energy we had put into the first quarter of this game slowed us down later on and the visitors took advantage to earn their point.

The manager made three changes from the side that beat Coventry on Saturday with Whiteman, Greenwood and Holmes coming in for Ledson, Frokjaer and Thordarson. The game started at a pace and within five minutes North End were one up with Long bringing down Riis in the box leaving Sam Greenwood to smash home the penalty and give North End the perfect start. A few minutes later Norwich had a chance but Woodman scrambled back to save. North End almost immediately went up the other end and Greenwood slotted a superb ball through to Holmes who fired home to put us two up in twelve minutes. For a while the game was even but Norwich started to assert themselves and it seemed key to the outcome that North End held on until half time. Alas we conceded with almost the last kick of the first half when Sainz nipped it at the front post to pull one back for the visitors.

It was a different team talk, no doubt, that Hecky gave the boys at half time following the Canaries goal but North End still came out and played in the positive manner we are now getting accustomed to under Paul Heckinbottom. Just before the hour mark North End had a great chance to make it 3-1 when Greenwood put Riis through but as the striker opened his body his curling shot went an agonising foot wide of the right hand post. It was to prove costly for North End as less than five minutes later Norwich broke and Duffy slotted home from close range to level up the scores. At that point I would undoubtedly have take a draw as the visitors seemed on the offensive but credit to North End they shook themselves down and got back into the game. Frokjaer shot wide with twenty minutes to go as North End finished the game the better of the two sides without ever really looking like scoring the winner. Not two points lost or a point gained, in my opinion, but just the right result in a entertaining game of football.

It is a mark of how far the team have come in such a short time that people are disappointed that we only get a draw at home to a good team like Norwich. PH has started to get his ideas across and North End are now four unbeaten in the Championship and playing so much better than under the previous regime. The one disappointing aspect on the night was the lack of atmosphere inside Deepdale with less than 13,000 North End fans inside the ground for the first time in a league game for two and a half years. There are a few reasons why, not least of which we have five home games in nineteen days so the walk ups are bound to reduce. The general consensus seems to be that if we win the game at Plymouth on Saturday then it will have been a very good week and I wholly concur with that view. North End haven`t won away in the league since March 16th and that was at ...yes youve guessed it, Plymouth. For now we can only applaud the work Hecky is doing at the club and hope the atmosphere gathers some ferocious momentum for the visit of Arsenal next Wednesday evening.

.

PRESTON 2-2 NORWICH CITY

.

WOODMAN 7

KESLER-HAYDEN 6 STOREY 7 LINDSAY 7 HUGHES 6 BRADY 7

WHITEMAN 7

McCANN 8 GREENWOOD 8 HOLMES 7

RIIS 6

.

SUBS

FROKJAER 7

THORDARSON 6

.

MOTM: Sam Greenwood

Attendance 13,677

Preston Fans 12,947 (94.66%)

[bongaboi]

Real Madrid: 2023-24 UEFA Champions League Winners

 

Dani Carvajal and Vinícius Júnior scored the goals as Real Madrid overcame a spirited Borussia Dortmund 2-0 to win the 2024 UEFA Champions League final at Wembley Stadium.

Edin Terzić had issued a rallying cry to his Dortmund players before the game, saying: "If we are brave then we're going to have a chance." BVB were more than brave in the first half, they were fearless in the face of the 14-time winners and created a host of chances that should have resulted in a half-time lead.

Early sighters from Federico Valverde and the otherwise well-marshalled Vinícius Júnior were as effective as Los Blancos could be, while Dortmund displayed a far greater cutting edge bar the final finish.

Karim Adeyemi was central to their threat. The winger was only denied by a last-ditch tackle from Dani Carvajal after rounding Thibaut Courtois then tested the Madrid No1 from Julian Brandt's pinpoint through ball, Niclas Füllkrug just unable to nod the rebound back towards goal.

In between, Füllkrug himself had prodded against the post from Ian Maatsen's pass, and the half ended with Courtois again called upon, this time to push Marcel Sabitzer's raking drive wide.

A stern-faced Carlo Ancelotti emerged from the dressing room at half-time still in discussions with the often-overworked Jude Bellingham and Toni Kroos, and the German midfielder, playing his last game for the club, took on added responsibility, calling Gregor Kobel into action for the first time with a whipped free-kick.

Dortmund remained unmoved, focused and positive. Though the contest's equilibrium had been restored, it was BVB who continued to prise the more presentable openings, Courtois standing tall to keep out a stinging Füllkrug header just after the hour mark.

Could Madrid find a way to turn the tide? They always seem to find a way – and this time would be no different. The source was perhaps unexpected, but Carvajal, determined to make history by playing in a joint-record sixth winning team in the final, rose highest to head in Kroos's corner.

Now the fear which Ancelotti had warned his players about before the showpiece was gone. Bellingham and Nacho came so close to adding a second before Vinícius Júnior did, receiving Bellingham's pass and sweeping his finish across Kobel to seal a 15th European crown for Madrid.

Matthias Rötters, Dortmund reporter

After a strong first half from Dortmund, Madrid slowly regained a foothold in the contest. BVB were unable to find an answer to the second-half breakthrough from Carvajal. They looked to have the most successful side in this competition on the back foot at times tonight but, once again, it is the La Liga side who are celebrating.

Graham Hunter, Real Madrid reporter

In the amazing moments which won the semi-final against Bayern, it was German-born Joselu who beat Madrid's Bundesliga rivals. This time, it was a brilliant Mannschaft international Kroos, in his final match for Los Blancos, who crossed for a man, Carvajal, who cut his teeth at Leverkusen, to nod Madrid in front and break the deadlock. And the decisive second goal? Set up by an ex-Dortmund man, Bellingham. There was such a remarkable 'Made in Germany' feel to how Madrid won their fabled '15th'.

Carlo Ancelotti, Madrid coach: "You never get accustomed to this. It was a very difficult, much more so than we thought it would be. In the first half, we had to suffer; in the second half, we lost the ball less and played better – but those are all trifling details now. We won. The dream continues."

Dani Carvajal, Madrid defender and Player of the Match: "We sure know how to suffer but, believe me, I'd love to win these matches more easily. I'd been coming up for corners most of the season. Determination is key to my approach – I'd headed one over and I just knew I had to score the second one!"

Toni Kroos, Madrid midfielder: "The decisive thing was that we didn't concede in the first half. The first half really wasn't good from us. Then we got into the game better and scored the goal. We were fully there and the better team. But it took a long time until we were the better team tonight."

Jude Bellingham, Madrid midfielder: "I've always dreamed of playing in these games. I can't put it into words. It's the best night of my life. It's got to be up there in terms of the perfect season. I can't have dreamed it much better than this. I'm so grateful to my team-mates, my family, the team behind the scenes: the physios, everyone there. This is a massive group effort."

Edin Terzić, Dortmund head coach: "We put in a great display and I think we deserved more than losing 2-0. From the first second, we showed the whole world that we weren't just here simply to play a final – but to win it. We did so many things right, but they were ice-cold at the right moment, which is what we lacked today."

Mats Hummels, Dortmund defender: "We had a great match. I’m super proud of the team for how we presented ourselves here. We played bravely, with heart, and played quality football. We only just missed out on scoring a goal. Real Madrid then strike, as they’ve done many times before."

Ally McCoist, TNT Sports

"You've got to have sympathy for Edin Terzić and the Dortmund boys, who performed exceptionally well. We just knew, at some point, Real Madrid would come back into the game. They got their goal from an unlikely source in Carvajal, and Vinícius Júnior effectively ended the match. Madrid are champions once again for a reason."

Key stats

Madrid have won the European Cup for a record 15th time.

Los Blancos have been successful in each of their nine appearances in the final in the Champions League era.

The Spanish side were unbeaten in their 13 Champions League matches this season (W9 D4). This is the first time they have won a European Cup/Champions League final without losing a match during the campaign.

Madrid have only failed to score in one of their last 18 European Cup/Champions League finals. That was in their 1-0 defeat against Liverpool in 1981.

Madrid have not conceded more than one goal in any of their last 11 European Cup/Champions League finals. The last time was in their 3-1 defeat against Inter in 1964.

Dani Carvajal scored for just the second time in the Champions League (group stage to final). His only other goal in his previous 88 appearances came in November 2015 against Shakhtar Donetsk.

Vinícius Júnior became the first Brazilian to score in two different European Cup/Champions League finals.

Luka Modrić and Dani Carvajal have matched Paco Gento's record by playing on the winning team in six European Cup/Champions League finals.

Carlo Ancelotti has extended his record number of Champions League wins as a coach to five – two more than any other coach.

Fantasy star performers

Dani Carvajal: 16 points

Jude Bellingham, Nacho, Toni Kroos, Antonio Rüdiger, Ferland Mendy, Thibaut Courtois: 7 points

Line-ups

Dortmund: Kobel; Ryerson, Hummels, Schlotterbeck, Maatsen; Emre Can (Malen 80), Sabitzer; Adeyemi (Reus 72), Brandt (Haller 80), Sancho (Bynoe-Gittens 87); Füllkrug

Real Madrid: Courtois; Carvajal, Nacho, Rüdiger, Mendy; Valverde, Kroos (Modrić 85), Camavinga; Bellingham (Joselu 85); Rodrygo (Éder Militão 90+1), Vinícius Júnior (Lucas Vázquez 90+4)

Madrid will take on UEFA Europa League winners Atalanta in the UEFA Super Cup in Warsaw on Wednesday 14 August.

The 2024/25 UEFA Champions League begins with the first qualifying round on 9/10 July; the draw takes place on Tuesday 18 June.

Madrid and Dortmund will enter next season's competition in the new-look league phase, the draw for which takes place on Thursday 29 August.

[lightsovermonaco]

Body Shots (Pierre Gasly)

Inspired by (and beta read) by the amazing @limp-wrist-max​ thank you Mea! 

Masterlist

Word count: 3.5k

Recommended song: “Lucky You” by Sim Dane

Vacationing in Milan had its perks. Fine dining, luxury stores that were prime for window shopping, and the proximity to your best friend, to name a few.

When you'd touched down in Milan you had had no intentions of visiting Pierre. You had just finished your exams for your summer class and had a week before the next semester started up, so you had simply booked the cheapest ticket and boarded a plane. 

The intent had been to have some good wine, good food and unwind. Pierre saw your Instagram story minutes after you posted it and recognized the bakery you stopped at for lunch. And once he found out you were only a few minutes away from that weekend's grand prix, he had ideas that didn't involve you reading a novel all day.

Pierre had insisted that a last minute cancelation by a family friend had left a paddock pass unclaimed and had suggested you take it.

"You're my best friend, it'll be fun to have you experience a weekend through my eyes for once instead of sitting in the stands. Come visit me."

Something in the inflection of his voice made the simple request rub you raw. He missed you. It had been months since your last get together and you couldn't blame him. The last year had been rough for him and he  rarely had anyone physically at his side to help him through it.

Inviting you instead of one of his parents was about more than your current proximity to the track. He hadn't missed a beat in asking you, not hesitating to consider anyone else being with him this weekend.

Your stomach had turned as you climbed in a cab Sunday morning, not out of fear of something going wrong but because of the nagging feeling that something was about to change.

You'd known Pierre since you were kids. Your brother had raced in karting before pursuing another dream, but in the few short years you'd hung around European tracks you had managed to forge a bond with one of your brother's rivals. That friendship carried on regardless of the distance that separated you, kept alive by visits in the off season and once a year trips to the racetrack at Silverstone.

Pierre met you at the gates and you had barely seen him since.

A decent qualifying session saw the Frenchman start P10 on Sunday's race. He didn't hide the fact that he was disappointed, but come time for his final meeting with the team you'd never guess he was anything but ecstatic.

You had to be conscious about your mouth hanging open when Pierre stepped into the garage in his fireproofs with his suit half undone. The tuft of blond hair peeking through his backwards cap floats on an invisible breeze and he bounces on his toes. His brow furrows when he is handed a data sheet, listening intently to what the engineer points out.

Butterflies riot in your stomach when Pierre catches you staring and winks. You pray he writes the blush on your cheeks off as the heat and he must, because he raises his eyebrows and flexes a bit.

You laugh to cover the way you want to do nothing but strip him out of that tight fitted white shirt. Your crush was getting out of hand. Pierre's shameless, friendly flirting only escalated matters.

You told yourself it was nothing. He was like this with every girl he met, making a fool of himself to earn a laugh. You were no different, except maybe that you were a constant where most other women only got to enjoy his playful personality for a short time.

You're treated to a few long minutes of watching Pierre prep to climb into the car before he's heading out on track to line up at the grid. 

The race starts off fine, Pierre's pace is better than expected. One of the Haas's breaks down at the pit entry and Pierre's strategist decides to bring him in for a fresh set of tires. A kiss seems like the proper reward for their stroke of brilliance, which affords Pierre the advantage when the pits close soon after. 

Restarting on lap 28 is nail biting. Hamilton, Stroll, and Pierre make up the podium places. The entire garage gasps when Stroll goes wide at turn four. Hamilton serves his penalty and Pierre inherits the lead. Sainz jumps on the opportunity to attack.

Pierre defends brilliantly until the final lap. The team erupts when he crosses the line first, bringing home the win.

Red, white and green confetti sticks to his skin as he sprays the champagne over all of you. In the heat of it all, Pierre sits on that top step and shakes his head. You already know that the photos of him being snapped from all angles will be gorgeous, the sun shining down on the first French grand prix winner in decades.

A legend in the minds of his people and in yours.

You could scarcely believe it yourself. Your best friend had finally, after years of being pushed down, won a grand prix at the temple of speed. Red Bull had been wrong, just as you'd insisted when Pierre cried over losing his seat and his friend in one weekend. But god, did Pierre rise above it all.

Pierre catches your gaze just before he leaves the podium. A lifetime of emotion swirls around him like an enigma, begging you to find out what it was hiding. Your wave is barely more than a lift of your hand but Pierre notes it nonetheless, tipping his trophy in your direction.

You wait patiently on the sidelines as Pierre poses for pictures with his team on and off the track. His attention constantly falls on you, his grin widening each time he sees you tucked under the arm of an enthusiastic mechanic or crew member. Alpha Tauri was a family and you were an honorary member thanks to your connection to their driver.

An action packed hour of cameras passes before Pierre is able to break away. As soon as he's given the go ahead he passes his trophy off and marching to you. You're both practically running by the time you meet in the middle. You crash into him and he lifts you off your feet in a crushing hug.

"You did it," you whisper, overwhelmed by his success now that you've gotten the chance to celebrate with him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pierre laughs as he sets you on your feet. His smile is wider than you've ever seen it and you're sure his cheeks must be sore.

"Wish they allowed us to bring a friend up there," Pierre says softly, a smile melting into a sly smirk. "Seeing you doused in champagne is an image I wouldn't forget."

You shake your head, caught up in his ceaseless flirting. He had no idea that his honeyed words and gentle touches lit something inside of you, rattling your brain and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Instead you snatch the black and gold Pirelli cap off his head and place it on your own, earning you a peal of laughter.

"Looks better on you anyway." Pierre runs a hand through his sweaty, champagne doused hair, leaving bits sticking up at odd angles.

Someone calls Pierre's name, far enough away that there's no rush. Pierre's hands remain planted on your waist and yours stay wrapped around his neck. By the way his bright blue eyes bore into yours, you swear he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Thank you for believing in me," he murmurs, gaze falling to your lips.

"I knew it was just a matter of time," you tell him, inching up on your tiptoes. Tempted by his win, you want to ruin the best friendship you've ever had. You want to discover if the lips you spend far too much time dreaming about felt as soft as they looked. You want to know how it feels to be lost in Pierre, newly minted race winner, and find out just how he dealt with the adrenaline and euphoria of his incredible drive.

"Well done mate!"

Max Verstappen startles the two of you apart. You take a healthy step back and drop your gaze to the ground to hide your burning cheeks.

"Thanks." Pierre accepts the Dutchman's embrace and claps him on the back. "Sucks I didn't get to fight you for it."

"There will be more chances in the future. And I didn't expect to see you here, that's a nice surprise." Max knocks you with his shoulder, tipping you off balance. On instinct you latch onto Pierre's arm to steady yourself. You wait a heartbeat too long to remove your hand and both of you find anywhere to look but each other.

"So where's the party?" You ask, searching for a distraction from the way your palm still burns.

"Definitely not at Red Bull." Max shudders and you laugh because that's what you do when someone is being over dramatic. It rings hollow in your ears.

"I hear there's a few guys with adjoining rooms at the hotel who bought plenty of booze," Pierre says. "You and Dan wanna come by?"

"Is that really a question?" Max grins, already typing out a text as Pierre feeds him the details.

**********

"You should do body shots," Max suggests, which earns a roaring laugh from Daniel and a half hearted one from Pierre.

"I don't think so," Pierre says, "there's no one here I trust enough to let that happen."

"Not even your best friend?" Max gestures to you and shoots you a wink when Pierre glances over. "I think she's trustworthy."

"No thanks." Pierre holds up his plastic cup and salutes Max before draining it to the dregs.

Pierre's immediate refusal hurt more than it probably should have. You hadn't expected him to jump at the offer but having him shut the idea down so thoroughly hadn't been what you wanted either.

Max notes your pouty lower lip and speaks on your behalf. "Come on mate," Max insists. "You just won your first prix, live a little! It's not like you've got anything to lose, she's your best friend."

"That's exactly why-"

"Shut up, it would be fun! Wouldn't it?" Max says this last bit to you, a wild grin on his face.

Max expects you to turn red and object. That was his end goal. But what the Dutchman hadn't counted on was how drunk you already were on Pierre. On his smile. On his bright blue eyes, swirling in the aftermath of his unlikely triumph. And mostly on the not-so-sneaky way he glances at you every few minutes.

"Let's do it."

Pierre blinks, searching your face for any sign of distress. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" You shrug, suddenly fearing that you'd read him wrong and he really was against this whole thing. "Unless you don't want to-"

"Get the vodka," Pierre interrupts, nodding to Max though his stare remains pinned on you. Pierre latches onto your wrist and drags you around the room until he finds a table long and sturdy enough for his liking. 

"This a good height for you?"

The coffee table is low enough that you'd have to kneel. Luckily getting on your knees isn't something you'd mind doing for Pierre. You lick your lips without thinking. Pierre's pupils blow wide, black swallowing the swirling oceans of blue.

"Sure," is all you manage.

"Good." Apparently neither of you were able to focus on speech. You work together to clear the empty plastic cups and used napkins from the surface. Your hands brush when you both reach for the last cup and you just catch the way Pierre's breath hitches.

You and Pierre have danced this dance since you were teenagers. Each of you knows the steps by heart. The only difference is tonight neither of you were poised to bow out before the final lift.

"Beep beep, bitches!" You yank your hand away when Max's shout reaches you. Pierre's hand lingers in front of him,  outstretched as if your palm remained grazing his thumb. 

Max holds the bottle of vodka over his head as he wades through the crowd. "You're all about to be very, very entertained."

"Where's your chaperone?" You ask Max, searching for Daniel in the low lighting. You press your palm to your thigh, dissipating Pierre's lingering heat.

The Dutchman waves you off. "Went to get us more drinks. Pierre, isn't it kinda hard to do body shots if you're still fully clothed?"

"Who says I'm the one getting undressed?"

Max's grin dimples his flushed cheeks. "I mean you can ask her to take her shirt off in front of all these people if you want to."

"No," Pierre responds quickly. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Pierre strips off his shirt he gets more than a few whistles from men and women alike. That tended to happen when someone was built like a Greek fucking god, you supposed. Whoever voted for People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" and decided on Michael B. Jordan had clearly never laid eyes on Pierre, with his bronzed skin, endless expanses of muscle, and brilliant cheshire grin.

Michael B. Jordan who?

Pierre hands the team branded shirt off and lays out on the table. He pillows an arm under his head, bare bicep flexed as he gets comfortable. Leaning in to kiss along the hard muscle was out of the question, however tempting it was.

Pierre looks up expectantly. "You coming?" 

Holy shit, this was actually happening.

"Yeah, I'm coming." You sink to your knees and Pierre laughs.

"Up here." He pats his thigh with his free hand and beacons you forward. "Please."

Screw it, you've already thrown your friendship out the window. This night ended either in heartbreak or awkwardness, might as well get your money's worth.

A few whoops break out above the music. The bassline isn't the only thing thundering in your chest as you straddle Pierre's thighs, hands braced on his chest.

"Okay?" Pierre whispers for your ears only. You nod with what you hope is a charming smile.

"Alright move," Max says, shooing you back until you're resting on your haunches. Max flicks the cap off the bottle and you grab it to take a long sip.

Max gapes at you and you wipe a hand over your mouth. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Pierre's thighs tense beneath you in response to your bold declaration. Dozens of Pierre's friends and team members gather around. For all you care, Pierre is the only person in the room.

"Last chance to back out," Max warns. You're too busy tracking the drop of liquid that falls from the neck of the bottle to splash onto the crease of Pierre's abs to bother responding. 

"Pour it out." Pierre's chest sinks with his demand, doing nothing but sparking your imagination, creating images of him heaving beneath you. You'd sell your soul to recreate the way you're currently poised above Pierre's hips with a little less clothing and no audience.

Max gives up hope on you replying and dribbles the alcohol up Pierre's abdomen, stopping just below his pecks.

"Have at 'er-"

Your tongue is on Pierre's skin before Max has finished his sentence. You feel the muscle tense beneath your tongue, going rigid at the first contact. The burn of the vodka doesn't even register as you lap it up, catching the drips that fall over his sides. 

You aren't sure either of you is breathing. Salty sweat mingles with the sharpness of the alcohol, an afterthought barely worth mentioning.

Blame the liquid courage or blame the high from Pierre's win, but you were confident Pierre was enjoying this just as much as you. 

Planting a hand on Pierre's hip, you steal a glance up at him to find him locked on you. You take that as permission to continue, dragging your tongue flat up his stomach and continuing well past where the vodka had been poured. Up between his pecks, over the curve of his throat that bobs beneath your tongue, over his chin until you meet his lips, already parted and waiting. 

Neither of you pay the shouts cresting around you any heed. You've both waited too long for this, endured too many almosts and what ifs to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. Your sticky hands cradle Pierre's face, angling it in a way that's to your liking so you can explore more of his mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, the juxtaposition of hot and cold scattering your thoughts. One of Pierre's hands finds the nape of your neck when you gasp for air, refusing to let you end the moment.

And it's pure, unending bliss that floods your veins when he nips at your lower lip, swollen and surely reddened from his kiss. His thumb sweeps across the back of your neck while you both fight to catch the breath currently evading you.

Daydreams didn't hold a candle to the real thing. One taste and you were addicted, craving as much as Pierre was willing to give.  

"Hey," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly gorgeous smile.

"That was nice," you tease, tangling your fingers in the silky blond strands of his hair. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again."

"Me too. Maybe somewhere where it's just us though. I wouldn't want to scandalize my team any further." You manage to steal another sweet peck before Max hauls you off Pierre.

"Fucking finally," Daniel says, clapping when you're upright again. "Do you know how long I've been trying to orchestrate this? The two of you really are dumber than a box of rocks. I can't believe all it took was Max suggesting body shots to get you two to kiss."

The arm that wraps around your waist feels right. Pierre hasn't hugged you like this before, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his nose nuzzling your neck, but it already feels like home.

Pierre ignores Max completely in favor of pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "Why don't we go back to my room? I'll pour more alcohol on myself if that's what it takes to convince you."

You're just about to take him up on the offer when one of his team members taps his shoulder. He glances at them impatiently, which the man thankfully doesn't take personally.

"They want some photos with you holding your trophy," he explains, handing a shirt and the star shaped interpretation of the Italian flag to Pierre. "It will only take a few minutes,  they promised not to keep you long."

Of course everyone knew exactly where your minds were. Sanity had long since left the premises, tangled up in crisp white sheets. Pierre's entire team and half the Red Bull garage had seen what had gone down while the prix winner was sprawled on that coffee table. There would be no chance of denying it in the morning. 

And while you'd never imagined that the first time you'd kiss your best friend would be directly preceded by licking copious amounts of shitty liquor off his super-heated skin, now that you'd experienced it any other way seems forgettable.

Pierre sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I already have my trophy, but…" your stomach lurches when you realize he means you. Pierre catches the way your mouth hangs open and he shoots you a grin before accepting the real trophy.

"You carry it," he says, not giving you much of a choice as he thrusts it into your hands. "I'm occupied."

You're about to point out that his hands are, in fact, free and that the more likely reason for insisting you carry the trophy was his usual post-race laziness when he slings an arm around your shoulders and tucks you tight to his side.

"Is this okay?" Pierre asks when you involuntarily stiffen. God, it was more than okay, it was perfect, it had just caught you by surprise. You'd only kissed him a handful of minutes ago and Pierre was already wrapped around your finger, smitten as if you'd been a couple for years.

"Yeah no, it's perfect. Simply lovely," you say quickly, stumbling over your words.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Your answer comes in the form of a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You prop the trophy on your hip and smile up at your race winner.

"You don't have to ask that ever again. My answer is always yes."

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 4

A/N  Here’s the next chapter installment of Ginger Snap.  I now have this story mentally plotted to its conclusion.  It will have a total of 6 chapters, with perhaps a wee epilogue.  In keeping with the theme, the title of this chapter is “Where There’s Smoke”.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

I glanced around the sitting room, trying to see it through a stranger’s eyes.  Well, not a stranger.  Through Jamie’s eyes.

We had sold most of our furniture before leaving Boston, not considering it worth the expense of shipping across the Atlantic.  Frank hired an interior decorating firm to furnish the third floor Southside flat before we arrived.  The overall impression was stylish, if a bit soulless.  Having grown up a virtual nomad, there were no mementos or heirlooms to speak for my personal journey.  For the first time, I regretted their absence.

The buzzer rang, and I shook away my wistfulness.  Jamie’s tousled curls and reckless grin greeted me as I opened the door.  Today he wore a fitted navy jumper, faded grey jeans with frays about the ankles and the ubiquitous work boots.  A messenger bag was slung across his broad chest.  

“I hope I wasn’t supposed to supply the ingredients for today’s lesson, because my cupboards are bare,” I remarked after inviting him in.

“Jus’ as well.  I wouldna squander yer food.  I have all we need right here.”  Reaching into his bag, he removed a clear container filled with chunks of pink meat swimming in a broth of blood.  I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

“What sort of dish will I be making with those?”

Those summer eyes shone in merry provocation.

“No’ a dish, Arsonist.  An experiment.”  

Two saucepans were set on the stove.  Jamie had me place a few pieces of meat into the water of one pot before it warmed.  To the other I added a pinch of salt and a clove of garlic, but waited until it came to a boil before adding the chicken.  After five minutes, I used tongs to move the now-pale flesh to waiting salad plates.  Neither looked particularly appetizing, but the first pot yielded a glutinous blob.

“I suppose this is the control group,” I remarked, looking at Jamie where he leaned against my countertop, ankles crossed like a cover model.  “I’m already quite familiar with what culinary failure looks like, thank you.”

“No’ failure.  Variability,” my teacher argued.  “See here?  If ye want meat tae dissolve til it doesna hold its texture, low heat is key.  An’ if ye want tae infuse it with flavour, always combine heat an’ seasoning at the same time.”

I took a small nibble of chicken from the second pot, and sure enough it tasted mildly of garlic.  It was otherwise quite bland, though.  When I commented on this, Jamie nodded in excitement.

“Aye, verra good.  Nature seeks equilibrium, as ye well know.  Sae now ye have poultry tha’ tastes o’ water and water tha’ tastes o’ chicken.  If ye were makin’ a stew or chicken stock, t’would be a good thing.  Fer anything else, tis shite.”

I laughed, getting into the spirit of his well-executed game.

“Have ye any music?” he asked while we cleared away the results of round one.  “I always cook better with a bit o’ background noise.”

There was a high-end stereo system in the living room, but I doubted Jamie would be interested in Frank’s collection of Brahms, Mahler and Celtic harp.  Seeing my hesitation, Jamie dug out a portable speaker from his bag.

“Do ye mind?”  I shook my head and soon my kitchen hummed with guitar chords and plangent vocals.

The lesson lasted far longer than the scheduled hour.  Jamie had me bake, fry, roast and braise different samples, each time explaining why a particular technique might be used and insisting I taste the result.  It was so much fun, I shed my habitual reticence while cooking.

“An’ now fer the pièce de résistance,” Jamie announced in dramatic tones.  From his seemingly bottomless messenger bag he removed what appeared to be a miniature flame thrower.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, forgetting myself.

“I wanted ye tae ken there’s a place fer fire in the kitchen, Arsonist.  Tis only a question of picking yer moment.”

With a flick of his lighter, he set the butane alight and handed me the small kitchen torch.  Using extreme caution, I seared the outside of the two remaining morsels until they were a rich caramel colour.  Jamie then wrapped them in foil, placing them in the oven to finish cooking.  When they were cool enough to sample, the outside was pleasingly crunchy and sweet, while the inside swam in moist chicken-y flavour.  We both declared them the winner.

“Tis a funny thing about fire,” Jamie remarked as he packed up his bag to leave by the more conventional front door route.  “It can remain hidden beneath the surface, burying its secrets deep inside.  Doesna mean it doesn’t burn, though.”

I thought about what he’d said long after he was gone, leaving me alone with his signature scent of rising bread and salt air.

That weekend, I blamed the poor weather when I declined Frank’s offer to shop for an engagement ring.

***

The next week, instead of asking to be buzzed inside, Jamie requested that I join him downstairs.

Grabbing a Mackintosh, my purse and slipping into comfortable walking shoes, I joined Jamie outside my door.  He was particularly animated, despite the foul weather.

“We should ha’ started wi’ this lesson, but t’wasn’t the right day fer it,” he explained as we walked towards the farmers’ market that took place twice a week in the shadow of Castle Hill.

I considered protesting that I already knew how to shop for food, but Jamie’s enthusiasm was contagious.

We stopped at every stall, sampling the foodstuff on display, which was surprisingly varied despite it being November.  Jamie knew most of the merchants by name and our progress was regularly halted by conversations on topics as varied as his family’s health, the latest rugby results and Scottish politics.  I envied his wide circle of acquaintance and apparent ease interacting with them.  There was no pretense, no stiffness, just a man who inhabited every square centimetre of his life to the fullest.

Jamie insisted that I taste various produce before adding it to the cloth bag he’d provided.  Honey-crisp apples.  Peppery radishes.  Herb-infused venison sausage.  

“Close yer eyes,” he instructed when I was practically dizzy with all the flavours.  Still, I complied immediately.  A rubbery moisture tickled my lips.  “Open,” he said simply.  I opened.  “Tell me what ye taste, Arsonist.”

I chewed the morsel of cheese thoughtfully, letting the taste and texture coat my mouth before finally swallowing.

“Creamy.  Thick.  Salty.  Sorrel.”

I opened my eyes only to fall into the inky vortex of Jamie’s pupils, which had expanded to almost eclipse his irises.  His hand still hovered near my mouth, muscles frozen in abstraction.  The cheesemonger let out an awkward little cough.  Jamie blinked, and the moment vanished.

“Sorrel?” he asked a bit gruffly.

“Yer lass has a fine palate, Fraser.  My sheep graze in fields full o’ it.”

I allowed myself a smug little smile.  Neither of us corrected the merchant’s presumptive pronoun.

Later that evening, I sat cross-legged before the fire with a picnic for one.  Frank had called from his office earlier to say he was working on notes for an upcoming symposium.  Before me lay the results of the afternoon’s market adventure.  Closing my eyes as I ate,  every mouthful set my senses ablaze.

We never found time to visit the jeweler that weekend either.

***

The next week, I fell ill with a miserable head cold.   Frank was in Oxford for his symposium, so I called Ginger Snap myself and explained to Jenny in a hoarse voice that Jamie should avoid coming to my flat at all costs.

I was curled up in a mentholated daze when there was a series of knocks.  It took several minutes to free myself from my blanket cocoon and shuffle to the front door.  Glancing in the entryway mirror, my hair called to mind an electrified poodle and my nose was twelve shades of raw, but I opened the door anyway.  No-one was there.  Leaning out to peer down the hallway, I practically tripped over a brown paper bag resting at my feet.

Inside was a metal thermos, still quite warm to the touch.  As I unscrewed the cap, my stuffed nose was assailed by fragrant steam.  Homemade cock-a-leekie soup.  I felt a glow fill my chest that had nothing to do with my fever.  Pouring a helping into a mug, I shuffled back to my couch-nest.  I felt better already.

***

The following week, Jamie was distracted.  I’d thanked him profusely for the soup, and asked if he could show me how to make it for myself.  As the chicken thighs and stock began to warm, however, I caught him glancing regularly at his phone, fingers drumming against his thigh.

“Are you expecting an important text?” I finally asked.

“Hmm?  Och, Arsonist, I’m verra sorry.  Tis only that we got a last-minute request tae cater a big corporate Christmas party, an’ Jenny is beside herself wi’ worrying.”  He tucked him phone into the pocket of his cargo pants.

“When’s the party?”

“T’morrow,” he confessed.

“What!  Jamie, what are you doing here?  You should have called me to reschedule.”

“T’wouldna be fair, what wi’ us missing last week on account of yer sniffles.  An’ wi’ Christmas ‘round the corner, I didna ken when I’d... er, when we’d have time for another lesson.”

I turned off the burner with a decisive twist.  Jamie opened his mouth to lodge a protest, but I beat him to the punch.

“Jamie, the soup will keep.  Growing your business is more important. I wish there was something more I could do to help, but under the circumstances...”

“Come wi’ me?” he blurted out.

I was nodding before the words finished leaving his mouth.  Notwithstanding the fact that he had just literally been teaching me how to boil water, I didn’t want to lose his company so soon.   We likely wouldn’t see one another again until after the New Year.

It was a thirty minute walk to Leith.  Jamie could probably have covered the distance in half that with his long strides, were it not for me trotting along beside him.  We stopped at several shops along the way to pick up provisions, arriving at Ginger Snap with our arms laden with the freshest food Edinburgh had to offer.

I had expected Jenny and Jamie to be working alone, but the fire station was abuzz with activity.  I was hastily introduced to Angus, a distant Fraser cousin; Mary, a childhood friend of Jenny’s; and Murtagh, Jamie and Jenny’s godfather.  They worked together like a well-oiled machine, and I stood awkwardly to one side, wondering what the hell I was doing there.  I was preparing to make my excuses when Jamie called me over to a spare station.  He gestured to the commercial-sized sink, which was full of vegetables of every dimension and colour.

“Claire, I need ye tae rinse and then cut these inta nice even pieces.  Can ye do tha’ fer me?”

"Consider it done, chef,” I said with a jaunty salute.

There was a feeling of camaraderie as we each went about our assigned tasks.  I chopped.  Mary baked.  Angus filleted.  Jamie cooked, and Jenny plated the various canapés, salads and sauces and stored them in the enormous refrigerators that lined the back wall.    Murtagh’s role seemed mostly to keep the troops in line with an assortment of verbal barbs. 

Music played in the background.  Volleys of witty banter flowed between us, but never at the expense of the work or anyone’s feelings.  Angus nicked himself with his filleting knife, and Jenny sent him to my station for treatment, saying I was the team’s resident doctor.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at home.

Time passed quickly and before I knew it, it was dark outside.  The bulk of the work was done and the pace slackened, the pressure of the looming deadline relieved.  One by one we cleared our stations, meeting at the small seating area to share a well-earned drink.

Jenny sunk into the couch beside me and let out a loud sigh.

“Ouf, I canna believe we got it all done.  Claire, ye were a godsend.  Normally I do most o’ the prep work, but it leaves me no time tae arrange the dishes.”

I demurred, uncomfortable with the praise.

“Nay, Arsonist, ye were amazing,” Jamie began to object, but he was interrupted by my phone buzzing.  Glancing down, I felt my face fall.   I’d completely forgotten about Frank.  Now he was texting, asking me where I was.  I quickly fired off a reply, then stuffed the phone into my pocket.

“Everything alright?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, yes.  It’s only my fiancé, asking when I might be home,” I answered, still distracted by my uncharacteristic lapse.  As I glanced up, I ran straight into Jamie’s iceberg gaze.

“I didna realize ye were engaged,” he looked pointedly at my bare ring finger.  “Congratulations.”  

He said the word as though every syllable pained him.  I quelled the urge to explain, to say it wasn’t a real engagement because I’d never agreed, that I’d only been looking for a sense of security, but somehow found myself in a cage.

Instead I hastily finished my drink, called myself an Uber and quietly wished everyone a good night, all while avoiding the many questions written across Jamie’s expressive face.

[westerosoliviapope]

Glittering Westerati Flirt and Frolick at the 107th Annual Grand Garden Classic

Bring on the champagne and brandy cocktails!

Our favorite flowery southern region kicked off its famed derby season this weekend at the 107th Annual Grand Garden Classic and everybody who's anybody traveled to The Reach for society's favorite sport.

No offense to this year's champion thoroughbred, Bors the Breaker — but we all know the real competition here: seeing and being seen.

The day started at the Highgarden Country Club with the Women's League Charity Brunch (sponsored by Redwyne Family Vineyards), where Women's League Chairwoman and Future First Lady, Margaery Tyrell Baratheon was the obvious belle of the ball alongside her himbo Man Candy husband and candidate for Prime Minister, People's Councilman Renly Baratheon.

On hand to accept the League's Woman of the Year Award (before the race where she allegedly bet big on second-place winner Knight of the Laughing Tree and swore like a wildling) was Foreign Affairs Minister Lyanna Stark.

No doubt, dragged below The Neck by his fiancee, People's Councilman Robb Stark also made an appearance to support his dear aunt. Let's hope our sweet WKLN anchor Roslin Frey employs a better stylist next year if she doesn't want to be outshined by her dashing groom-to-be.

Speaking of visitors from lands far and wide, all hail Princess Arianne Martell, who made her first-ever derby appearance. Could my Little Birds' reports that the over thirty-five-years old and still single heir to the Dornish throne is shopping for a Westerosi husband be true? We've heard she canoodled with a certain ne'er-do-well prince at the after-party, but more on that later.

Included in the Princess's retinue were her cousins and daughters of International Man of Mystery Prince Oberyn Martell: (pictured from left to right) fashion maven and style influencer Obella Sand, fixer and political maverick Sarella Sand, Tyroshi Tennis Open Champion Elia Sand, and international playgirl fixer Nymeria Sand.

And let's not forget Prince Trystane and his lady love and Westerosi society princess, Myrcella Baratheon.

We wonder how Myrcella reacted when her mother, Former First Lady Cersei Lannister, showed up on the arm of the criminal eccentric businessman Euron Greyjoy? Only the gods know what's going on here, but Little Birds report that a collective gasp rippled through the box seats at the race track when they walked in? Is the notoriously uptight Lady Lannister looking for a wild ride after her tumultuous divorce and the death of her oldest son? Could #Ceron be the newest couple to watch?

Not to be outdone by their visitors, our Reachmen and women were out in full force. Let's start with the age-defying plastic surgery enthusiast socialite and boutique franchiser, Lynesse Hightower-Ormollen who made her derby entrance via billboards throughout Garden City featuring herself exclusive pieces from her stores' also named after herself spring line.

CLICK HERE FOR MORE OF THE DAILY WHISPER'S EXCLUSIVE COVERAGE OF THE 107TH ANNUAL GRAND GARDEN CLASSIC.

[brian-in-finance]

A scene from “West Side Story,” one of several Oscar-worthy films that haven’t found their footing at the box office.Credit...Niko Tavernise/20th Century Studios

After last year’s Oscar ceremony honored a group of small, challenging movies and tanked in the ratings, you can bet that this year, the academy is eager to nominate films that audiences can get excited about. Indeed, this year’s crop of awards movies includes several old-fashioned crowd-pleasers to choose from.

There’s just one problem: The crowds are remaining stubbornly hypothetical.

Just look at “Belfast.” The Kenneth Branagh-directed family drama, considered a top best-picture contender, has petered out with a domestic box office gross under $7 million. Best-picture winners usually hail from far more successful stock: Among recent winners, only last year’s “Nomadland” made less, and it was released at a time when vaccines were scarce and theaters were just barely beginning to reopen.

“King Richard” hasn’t fared much better: Though it was released simultaneously on HBO Max, you’d still expect stronger box office results for an inspirational drama that stars Will Smith as the father of the tennis legends Venus and Serena Williams. Instead, “King Richard” has made just $14.7 million in North American theaters, the lowest gross for a Smith movie in decades.

And then there’s Ridley Scott’s “The Last Duel,” which feels like it could have been the biggest hit of a bygone Oscar season. This medieval drama boasts huge stars (including Matt Damon, Adam Driver and Ben Affleck), weighty themes and top-tier production values. Now that it’s available on demand, not a day goes by without someone on my Twitter timeline discovering the film and announcing, “Hey, this is actually pretty good!” Maybe they’re surprised because “The Last Duel” famously bombed during its wide release in October, earning only $10.8 million domestically.

Adam Driver, left, and Matt Damon in “The Last Duel,” which in a bygone era might have been the hit of Oscar season.Credit...Patrick Redmond/20th Century Studios

It’s true that many of these Oscar contenders are aimed at older moviegoers, who have proved difficult to lure back to theaters during a prolonged pandemic. A smaller film like “Belfast” used to debut in a handful of cities, carefully building word of mouth with that core demographic as it expanded to new theaters every week. Now, distributors are so skittish about the absence of older audiences that many specialty films are shoved into hundreds of theaters right off the bat, expected to draw huge crowds from scratch.

Still, the underwhelming performance of these movies can’t be blamed on older moviegoers alone. Over the past few weeks, “Spider-Man: No Way Home” has earned a staggering $621 million domestically, a total you simply can’t reach without every available demographic turning out in record numbers. If older adults are willing to go see “Spider-Man,” it becomes harder to make the argument that they can’t be wooed at all.

Marvel’s rising tide, though, has not lifted any boats: Instead, every other title is drowning. Are audiences really so skittish about seeing the most acclaimed films of the year? Or have these movies simply struggled to make the case that they’re worth watching?

I believe the latter issue bedeviled “West Side Story,” which seemed to have so much going for it when it debuted in December: Directed by Steven Spielberg, the movie received rapturous reviews and is adapted from one of the most famous stage musicals of all time. Though “West Side Story” was originally intended to come out last winter, Disney executives delayed this exhilarating film a full year, expecting a four-quadrant smash.

They didn’t get it. “West Side Story” made just $10.5 million in its opening weekend and has struggled to reach $30 million in its first month of release. For a movie from Hollywood’s most reliable hitmaker, that is a disastrous result: You’d have to go all the way back to “Empire of the Sun” from 1987 to find a Spielberg movie that did this poorly, and that film didn’t cost north of $100 million, as “West Side Story” did.

The usual suspects have come in for blame — the pandemic’s winter surge, the paucity of older moviegoers — but I lay this failure squarely at the feet of the marketing campaign, which missed crucial opportunities. The posters for this romantic musical were oddly grim, and the trailers and TV spots remained way too bashful about selling Spielberg, the movie’s biggest name. The trailers should have emphasized his iconic films like “E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial,” “Jurassic Park” and “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” positioning “West Side Story” as part of an impressive theatrical lineage: The obvious message being, “Those were events worth leaving the house for and this will be, too.”

Tom Holland as Spider-Man. Will the box office success of his new film matter to Oscar voters?Credit...Sony Pictures

Ultimately, that may prove to be the most significant lesson of this awards season: If you can’t make your movie feel like a big event, people simply won’t go. It’s clear that the only film this winter that has really managed that feat is “Spider-Man: No Way Home,” and because its astonishing box office returns dwarf everything else in theaters, power players involved with the Marvel-Sony movie have begun making the case that it should be nominated for best picture.

Does Spidey have a shot? I’m not so sure: Oscar voters have shown they’re willing to nominate a big blockbuster, but they prefer the kind of impeccably crafted tentpole that can compete in a host of categories: Think of “Black Panther,” which won Oscars for its score, production design and costumes; or “Mad Max: Fury Road,” which prevailed in just about every tech category it was nominated for. This year, “Dune” will be a major player in those below-the-line races, boosting its ultimate bid for best picture, but the flatly shot “Spider-Man: No Way Home” is more of a storytelling and scheduling feat than some sort of artistic stunner.

Still, there’s no denying the movie’s huge box office success. If adult dramas continue to underperform as the pandemic sprawls into its third year, they may vanish from cinemas entirely, and the theatrical experience will simply become a high-end way to watch Marvel movies. The Oscars are supposed to forestall that sort of thing: They lend buzz to the smaller, artier films that desperately need it. But if all these nonfranchise crowd-pleasers can’t manage to entice people into theaters on their own, the movies have a bigger problem than just another low-rated Oscars show.

Remember… it’s true that many of these Oscar contenders are aimed at older moviegoers, who have proved difficult to lure back to theaters during a prolonged pandemic. A smaller film like “Belfast” used to debut in a handful of cities, carefully building word of mouth with that core demographic as it expanded to new theaters every week. — The New York Times

[sharkfish]

love ‘em, can’t live without ‘em: early-career writers!

[masterpost of rec lists]

new content creators are the lifeblood of fandom, so here i present stories by folks who have five or less destiel fics published (...so far) as of december 2020!!! 

please give them some love!!! 

under the cut since it got long~ 

the burden of belonging by Newtondale @soft-klaus (8k)

Dean doesn't know where he's going, he just drives.

He meanders. Takes whatever road he wants without worrying about efficiency or speed. He watches the landscape change around him as he heads east, towards the sea. Sometimes he listens to music, and sometimes he doesn’t. Most of the time he just thinks, the way he has always thought best; with an open road ahead and horror close behind.

Cas always comes back to him. Cas has always come back. Whether it takes minutes, or weeks, or months - Cas comes back to him.

But Cas hasn’t come back. How much longer is supposed to wait? Minutes? Months? How long is he supposed to live like this, like there’s nothing else that matters except the space beside him where Cas should be?

So he just drives.

Dean Winchester’s 12-Step Guide to Inebriated Online Retail Therapy for Fallen Angels and Judgemental Brothers With Bad Hair (Suck It, Sammy) by justholdingstill @justholdingstill   (3k) 

Alternatively titled Dean Wayne: The Life & Legend

Dean gets drunk. Dean orders things online. Hilarity ensues.

Hang-Ups by anupalya @anupalya (2k)

A slip of the tongue while hanging up a zoom meeting with Castiel leaves Dean in a panic.

****

Jsksdjdjskal

I'm starting to think you're letting Blueberry walk over your keyboard again.

i'm moving to Thailand

?????

I have to

Dean

I have no choice

... so I take it the meeting went well?

dream root & fumbling through the darkness by visionsofyerface @omnishamblegreg (1.3k)

Dean takes dream root for some fun angsty wanderings into Cas’s head, and then actually goes to the Empty, but Cas doesn't believe it's really him.

How Long? by MinxyOne93 @substitutesalt93 (WIP - 37k)

Dean has been going on reckless hunts by himself. Cas confronts him and all those years of unresolved pining come to a boiling point.

_

"Dean. How long?" The angel said, still quiet but so raw with emotion, eyes still wide with shock.

Dean looked down at the floor and sighed. "Since... always. I knew it for sure in Purgatory. But always." He then added in a near whisper, tears threatening to spill from behind his now closed eyelids, "I'm sorry, Cas."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" Castiel felt dumbfounded. The constant loneliness and longing he had sensed from Dean that seemed to grow worse and worse with the passing of years made so much more sense now.

"Dean," was all Cas could say before releasing his grip on his collar and gently, slowly, deliberately, kissing the corner of his mouth. A shocked gasp left Dean’s mouth of its own accord and he melted into Castiel's tight embrace.

It's The Thought That Counts by oceaxe @oceaxe-ifdawn (3k)

It’s Dean’s birthday and while angels have no birthdays, Castiel has a) been around human cultures for long enough to be aware of the nearly universal customs of celebrating the anniversary of a loved one’s birth and b) has been living with humans for long enough that he’s been included in some of those celebrations. But the art of gift-giving continues to elude his comprehension.

Lucky Winner by natmoose @natmoose (32k)

Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with.

But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.

Once Upon a Falling Star by GrandestBlood @grumpy-mccat (WIP - 3k) 

Alternate outcome for season 5's Endverse where Castiel never lost his grace but he was tricked to retreat back to heaven with the other angels, leaving Dean behind in the refugee camp.

Prompt for this was: The world has ended 500 years ago. You finally went back to Earth and discovered a voice message. You learn a shocking secret about 500 years ago.

Sending A Message by ivebeenpossessedbysatan @ivebeenpossessedbysatan (WIP - 15k)

Castiel Novak didn't expect to be kidnapped. Sure, he'd seen it happen before, but that was all in movies. Just because his mother had married into money didn't mean that someone was actually going to kidnap him and try to ransom him for money.

Only apparently it did, because here he was, tied to a chair in the corner of the most cliché warehouse he'd ever seen.

Why was this is life?

so leave me // at the roadside by LinkInThePark @saminzat (3k)

”This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone out on his own at all, but he was tired of sitting around in the bunker, where the walls seemed to close in on him and the halls were too empty at the same time. Where everything reminded him of what had happened, of the battles they had fought and the people they had lost.

Of the words left unsaid.”

Dean is taking the Impala on a ride, trying to escape everything that's happened... And, in the process, is finally forced to confront his grief. 15x19 coda.

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, but Words Might Get Me Laid by Mrs King of Hell (Slytherkins) @slytherkins (3k)

When Dean's name calling goes too far, Castiel decides to teach him a lesson in manners.

"Take a Sad Song and Make it Better" by Shishquah_CustardTree @shishquahcustardtree (WIP - 27k) 

After being bought and abused by Alistair for many years, Dean Winchester finally gets another chance at life and love by the means of a car crash and a bullet.

The One (1) Time Dean Winchester Tried Something New by archangelgabe @3dg310rdsupreme (2k)

What fun is a relationship that doesn't start with the gross misunderstanding that your crush is hitting on your kid brother?

The one where they get heaven-married by mercurialkitty @mercurialkitty (1.3k)

First a quick chat with Sam in the Impala, then it's off to find Cas.

A finale fix-it where Dean and Cas get heaven-married

There'll Be Peace When You Are Done by diaryofageekgirl @diaryofageekgirl  (5k) 

Somehow, in the middle of severing vamp necks in the dead of night in a run-down barn in Ohio, Dean had a revelation.

Or: nothing stays dead on Supernatural.

This is heaven by madbrilliant84 @madbrilliant84 (800)

“Come on dude! Don’t tell me you don’t know what your legs look like! I bet you could crush melons with those.”

Cas seemed incredibly amused by this. “And that’s something that turns you on?”

Dean smiled while biting is bottom lip. He slowly nodded. His playful tone dropped to something more heated.

“Uh huh. First thing I noticed when I saw you sitting on that bar stool.”

You're Not Alone by Wordsintothevoid @deancas-stan (15k)

Dean has an imaginary friend. Sure, that's weird as hell but he doesn't care. Cas has been there to support him during every horrible thing in Dean's short miserable life and he is not giving up Cas. Sure, Dean may also sorta kinda be in love with him. Oops. And it hurts but Dean will keep it platonic. But then Cas leaves. And then Dean breaks.

We’ll All Arrive in Heaven Alive by invisibledrugs @reasonsweweresinging (1k)

The Winchesters are finally dying, and for good.

But that's okay, because Dean knows what - and who - is waiting for him.

last but definitely not least, @uncastiel doesn’t have any fics yet but is taking prompts! 

[osita-iza]

First Choice

Tanaka Ryūnosuke x Reader

Soulmate AU: You have a matching mark as your soulmate in the same place on your body, marking the link between the both of you.

Being Kiyoko's cousin comes with its own set of challenges. Everyone's eyes always drift to her. Just because it’s been having your whole life doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when you see Tanaka’s eyes drift to her too. 

“You weren’t sure what was worse: the pain of knowing him or the pain of not knowing him” 

Genre: Mix of fluff/angst

Word count: 12.2 k

A/N: I've only watched the anime, and I'm only on Season 3. Sorry if any of this goes against canon tooooo much.

You loved Kiyoko. Both your parents and hers were always busy running the family shop. She was the older one, and you called her your older sister more than your cousin. You wouldn't trade her for the world.

That being said, it wasn't long for you to realize there was a difference between the two of you.

The difference being Kiyoko was gorgeous, even by kid standards.

Her looks and maturity gathered admirers at the playground by the time she was in third grade. The boys in her class would race each other, proclaiming that the winner would be the one right for Kiyoko. She never gave them the kiss on the cheek they wanted, but she giggled with them, racing them herself.

You were six, and you didn't mind that Kiyoko got attention. You got to play with her, and her attention automatically meant that you both got to play with more friends. She was running laps around the playground with some boys in her class, an almost daily occurence. But this time, you had your own friend. He was seven, which made him a big deal in your class. And he chose to play with no one but you after school.

You were playing the wonderful game of 'dig a hole', talking about dinosaurs when you realized he had stopped digging. You looked up, seeing him stare at something with an open mouth. You furrowed your eyebrows, following his gaze. He was staring at Kiyoko. "Why are you looking at her?" you asked.

"She's really pretty!" he practically yelled.

You tilted your head. You knew that. You still didn't get why that meant he had to stare at her. Lost in thought, you missed Kiyoko and her friends walking over to the pair of you. "Hi, y/n." She smiled. "Sorry for leaving that long, the race took a long time."

"You know y/n?" your friend asked, and you giggled at how his eyes shined.

Kiyoko nodded. "She's my cousin. Are you a friend of hers?" He nodded excitedly. "Well, it's nice to meet you then," she said.

You stopped giggling when you realized your friend was ignoring you in favor for trying to talk to Kiyoko. You finally gave up, choosing to dig your hold by yourself until it got dark, when Kiyoko suggested you both go home.

It was after that day that you began to notice more differences. How your grandparents always gushed over her and pinched her cheeks. How they gave her fancy dresses and hair accessories. Your grandparents loved you, you knew that. But you didn't garner the same attention that Kiyoko did.

Even as a child, you knew it wasn't her fault. That it was a roll of dice of life that decided Kiyoko's fate of being pretty. She was far too nice for you to be mad at her.

But it made you press your hand against the back of your shoulder, where your soulmate mark resided. And you hoped and prayed with all the might that a six year old could muster up only one thing: That your soulmate would give you more attention than Kiyoko. That their eyes would drift and focus on you and you alone. That, for one second, you would get the spotlight that had always followed her.

                                                              =

Kiyoko leaned against the wall as she watched the boys practice. The squeaking shoes and shiny floors reeling her into a relaxed state after hoe much time she spent there. She was relaxed as she watched Tanaka land from his spike. Relaxed as he pulled off his shirt, far too used to this quirk of his to blush anymore. 

But her body tensed up as her eyes caught sight of the black mark that decorated the back of his shoulder. She had seen that sign before. 

She took baths with you as a kid for Christ’s sake. 

That was your mark. Everything was exactly the same. 

She didn’t explain why she dragged you to practice the next day. Kiyoko told the Coach that she didn’t like the idea of you walking home alone, but you knew she didn’t actually have a problem with it. But you loved Kiyoko, so you went along with it. 

You went along with it as she told you to stand against the wall and to focus on one player specifically, despite your protests of not wanting to be hit with a ball. But you listened and focused on the player with a buzzcut. You recognized him as Tanaka. He wasn’t in your class, but his energy was so big that you were pretty sure everyone in your year knew of him. You had laughed at some of his jokes in the cafeteria or as he walked down the hallways but had never talked to him. 

As you watched him run across the court, hitting spikes aggressively, you had to admit- he was handsome. You didn’t find many guys attractive, too scared to get your hopes up. But it was undeniable. The way he scrunched up his face when a spike was blocked was cute. His focused glare was hot, along with how he slammed his hand against the volleyball. 

Then, after finally hitting a spike and relishing in how its slam against the floor echoed across the gym, he ripped his shirt off. Your eyes immediately focused on the back of his shoulder. And you could feel your soulmate mark burn against your skin as you stared at his. 

Your eyes shot up to meet Kiyoko’s gaze, which was focused on you. With a burning chest, you walked over to her with wide eyes. “That’s why you asked me to-” 

“Yes, but we can talk about it later,” she whispered. Her eyes glancing over to where the boys continued playing before her eyes focused on you with a small smile. “It was really hard for me to not say anything though,” 

You sighed, biting your lip as you sat down. Now your eyes were following Tanaka without you meaning to. That was your mark; you knew it without a doubt. 

And that was how you noticed that, while you were looking at him, he was looking at your cousin. 

Ignoring the growing rocks in your gut proved to be a pointless feat as he looked to Kiyoko with a big smile on his face. You had gotten used to it; everybody’s eyes drifted to her. At the same time, there was a small part of you that wanted your soulmate to be different. The fact that he wasn’t different... 

You shook your head, as if to shake the thought out of your head. Finally, their practice ended. You helped them pick up the stray volleyballs, tossing them into the cart. “Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” 

“Yeah?” You looked up, breath catching in your throat as you made eye contact with him. 

“I’m Tanaka Ryu.” He smiled brightly as he tossed another volleyball towards you. You caught it, throwing it into the cart as he got ready to throw another one towards you. “We’re in the same year.” 

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around before,” you replied. You were acutely aware of each beat of your heart. God, how did your friends have a new crush every week? Maybe you should ask because you felt like you were going to die right now. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me then?” Tanaka tilted his head. 

He’s like a confused puppy. You rolled your eyes with a small smile as you grabbed the cart, ready to push it into the supply room. “Well, why didn’t you talk to me?” 

You expected him to go off with his friends, but he followed you as you walked. “You have a point,” he said, opening the door for you. You smiled at him as you pushed the cart to what looked like was the correct spot. “I guess I’ll have to talk to you more often.” 

“What? Why?” 

Tanaka smiled at you as he stepped back and out of the supply room. “Well you’re cute and nice. Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?” 

You were alone in the room, surrounded by volleyball nets and practice jerseys, as your mind struggled to catch up with his words. “He’s really blunt,” you mumbled to yourself, still not sure if you were breathing, as you walked out of the supply room. 

Kiyoko smiled at you before waving to the team before walking out the gym with you. The pair of you got a couple of steps before you heard a loud yell, and you were sure of who was yelling. “Kiyoko! You forgot your jacket!” Tanaka shouted. You stopped as Kiyoko grabbed her jacket and thanked him. “I-it’s no problem, Kiyoko,” he said as his face turned rosy, “I didn’t want you to get cold.” 

He was blushing for her. She nodded at him before she grabbed your wrist, pulling you to keep walking home with her. 

A silence fell over the two of you as you walked before Kiyoko asked, “So, what do you think of him?” 

Tanaka was blunt, you answered to yourself, but he was also into Kiyoko. Instead you said, “I don’t know,” 

“You don’t know?” 

“He’s nice but...” The words caught in your throat. They would just make Kiyoko feel guilty. Finally you sighed, “I just don’t know if we’re compatible,” 

“Get to know him,” Kiyoko said, grabbing your shoulder. She had never been this insistent with you, and it made you feel worse for wanting to avoid him. “I’ve spent a lot of time with him, and I think you could really like him,” 

“I’ll try,” you said. 

“Good. Then you’re coming to practice again tomorrow.” You considered fighting Kiyoko on this, but the idea of seeing him again did excite you, so you just nodded along.

                                                              =

You were thirteen when you finally met someone that made your heartbeat speed up. Your best friend promised you over and over again that he must be as head over heels for you as you were for him. A small part of you believed her when, unprompted, he offered to walk you to the park on his way home, knowing that you went that way yourself. 

With wide eyes, your friend smiled and threw you a thumbs up before she ran off. Your hands were fidgety, continually messing with the straps of your backpack as you two talked. Your friend's words echoed in your mind as you began approaching the park’s picnic tables. Your chest hammered as you gained the courage to look at him. 

And just like when you were six, you noticed he was staring at something in front of you. After following his gaze, you saw Kiyoko... just like when you were six. 

Your gaze shifted over to him, and you could see the awe in his eyes. He never had that look when he looked at you. “I should get going. My cousin’s here,” you mumbled, breaking away from the stride you had with him. 

“That’s your cousin?” 

You glanced back at him, and the excitement was evident in his eyes and voice. Your intestines tangled up and fell to the bottom of your stomach as you stared at him. “Yeah.” 

“She’s really pretty,” he said. 

“Yeah... She is.” 

“What’s h-” 

“See you later,” you rushed out and walked away. 

Kiyoko grinned at you, standing up from the table, and she began walking home with you. “How was your day?” 

As you stared at her, you wished you could be mad at her. You wished that you could feel a white hot anger towards her. Find her soft and sleek voice annoying. Find her symmetrical face overrated. Find the way she kept her thoughts to herself aggravating. 

Instead, your gut just dropped five more levels. Kiyoko was Kiyoko, and you were you. And Kiyoko got more attention. This was just the way things were; that fact alone stabbed you in the heart over and over again. 

“It was good. I have to work on my book report today though,” you muttered. 

She nodded, walking with you to her house to wait for your parents to be done with work. You nodded along as she spoke, each word and step acting as another knife in your heart. 

                                                                = 

You became a regular at the volleyball practices. Ukai had accepted you as an unofficial assistant team manager to help Kiyoko and Yachi. The team accepted you in as well, always welcoming you and bringing you in on their activities. Kiyoko would argue that Tanaka was more welcoming and excited than the rest of the team; you would argue that he had the same amount of excitement that the rest of the team had. 

One thing you couldn’t argue that Tanaka was the one who spoke to the most now. You weren’t in the same class as him, but he would talk to you in the hallways and during breaks. You had to admit that Kiyoko was right- he was really nice. He was also funny, caring, and energetic. You both were a regular part of each other’s day. 

Except for this day. You had a case of food poisoning, so your parents insisted that you stay home for the day. Usually you were the one asking to stay home, but the one thing they disliked more than you staying home was leaving work in the middle of the day to pick you up from school. 

It was around noon- lunchtime- when your phone buzzed with a message. 

Unknown: Why aren’t you at school???

You furrowed your eyebrows before typing out a response. 

Y/N: Who is this? 

Unknown: Oh shit sorry! This is Tanaka I asked kiyoko for your number when I saw you weren’t at school 

Unknown: Hope that was okay!!! 

You rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. Of course Kiyoko gave him your number. 

Y/N: It’s fine don’t worry about it. I got food poisoning so my parents made me stay home :/ 

It took maybe two seconds for you to get an answer. 

Tanaka: I’m sorry! I hope you’re feeling better 

Tanaka: I can bring you the work you missed if you want me to? 

A warmth spread through your chest as you read his message a couple of times. It was such a simple thing to offer; something he would probably offer to do for all of his friends. Despite knowing that, your heart rate sped up at the idea that he cared about you. 

Y/N: If it’s not out of your way then I would really appreciate it. Don’t feel pressured though! 

Tanaka: Of course I will! What’s your address? 

Y/N: Just let me know when you’re on your way beforehand or else I might be passed out lol 

Y/N: Here’s my address... 

Why was this so exciting? He was just going to drop off a couple of worksheets. It wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Tanaka: Okay I’ll come by after schoo!! 

Y/N: Thank you again <3 

You groaned as soon as you hit send. You always sent hearts to your friends; it was a habit. Yet this made your stomach drop. You set an alarm for the end of school, trying not to think about why you were preparing to get ready for him. 

‘Why the hell did I send that damn heart?’ You rolled your eyes, pushing your face into your pillow to muffle your complaining. Tanaka wasn’t the type to overthink that kind of thing, but it still made you want to curl into a ball. 

You didn’t know that Tanaka was blushing at his lunch table as he stared at his phone screen. You didn’t know that he stuttered out an answer when Nishinoya teased him about it. But you also didn’t know that he had asked Kiyoko for your number weeks ago, and that he had been stressing over how to start a conversation with you for weeks and had jumped at the opportunity to finally message you today. 

Tanaka had no idea how you felt about him; something that he agonized over pretty much every night now.  However, whether or not you liked him right now, he was determined to make fall for him in the future.

It was with this plan in mind that he went to the convenience store and got all of the healthy food you should get when you're sick. It wasn't until he was walking to your home with the bag in hand that he began to question if this was a normal thing to do for someone that you had barely become friends with. Probably not. 

He exhaled through his teeth, stopping in front of your house to slap his face. It was too late to turn back now. He was already pushing it with Ukai by being late to practice. Plus, if he didn't give you this stuff now, he would've wasted his money. Tanaka knocked on your door, sticking his hands in his pockets as he waited for you to open the door. 

"I'm coming!" He heard you yell from the other side of the door before it opened. Your hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, strands escaping into the front of your face. There were bags under your eyes, and you were still dressed in your pajamas. 

Tanaka would've said you were the most beautiful person he ever saw in that moment. 

"Oh my god!I feel asleep. I'm so sorry," you rambled out, bowing your head for a moment before you saw the bag in his hand. "What's that?" 

He was pulled out of his focus on you, rubbing the back of his head as his cheeks warmed up. "Oh, I got you some stuff that I know helps me when I'm sick. I figured it might help since you were home alone." 

You tried to control your racing heart, before you smiled at him. "Thank you so much! You really didn't have to do that," you said. 

"Hey don't worry about it. I was just worried about you is all," he responded. 

You stared at him for a moment, not sure how to respond. He went to the store and bought stuff for you just because you were sick? How were you supposed to respond to this? You were just overwhelmed with the care he was willing to show you. 

"Um..." Tanaka spoke up. You winced; you took a little too long trying to thing of an answer. "Sorry, you caught me off guard. Please come inside," you said, stepping to the side and opening the door. It was when you felt the breeze from outside that you realized you were wearing a tank top- meaning your soulmate mark was exposed. 

"Thanks." He smiled at you, sliding his shoes off. Tanaka began setting down some of the convenience store items onto the table. There were plain crackers, bread, ginger ale, and water. You kept your front facing Tanaka as you closed the door behind him, crossing your arms and stepping sideways to face him across the table. 

"You bought me bread?" You raised your eyebrows as you picked up the loaf. 

Tanaka furrowed his eyebrows before he chuckled. "Uh... I was just thinking of stuff my sister told me is good to eat when I throw up- didn't really think about what you might actually not have." 

"Are you supposed to just eat straight bread?" Tanaka nodded. "I didn't know that. We have bread here though, so you can bring this to your house if you want,"

 "Okay," Tanaka cringed as you handed him back the bread.

But then you smiled back at him. "It's still a really sweet gesture though. Thank you so much, Tanaka," 

His entire body relaxed at your words, and a smile slotted onto his face. "Don't worry about it!" 

You reached over to your backpack and grabbed your wallet, taking special care to keep your front towards him. "How much did everything cost?" 

"No, you don't have to pay me back." 

"I feel bad." You frowned. Though you weren't sure if you felt bad because he paid or because hiding your soulmate mark at the moment made you feel like you were lying. It was one thing to not tell him when you had your uniform on; it was another to be aware of the dark mark resting on your shoulder and keep him from seeing it too. 

"Don't. It's my gift to you," he promised.

Him being nice was also not helping that guilt. 

It would be so easy to tell him the truth. You would just have to move your mouth into the correct motions and voice out the words 'I'm your soulmate'. You've been talking since you were a toddler. He was Tanaka. Yeah, maybe you wouldn't date, but you could be friends with him like you already were. 

Who knows maybe he would want to...

 As soon as your hope came up, so did the memory of him and Nishinoya running up Kiyoko, immediately crushing those hopes. You sighed at the thought, frown deepening.

 "Hey, are you okay?" Tanaka asked, going to step closer, looking you over for any signs of nausea.

 "I'm fine!" You tensed up as he came to your side, turning yourself and pushing your shoulder back slightly. You didn't miss the way he pressed his lips together, making the guilt sink deeper into your gut. "Are you sure I can't pay you back?"

Tanaka's eyes lit up, making you somewhat suspicious. "I don't need money-"

 "Okay..." 

"But I could use a tutor." 

"A tutor?" You squinted at him. 

"Yeah. I overheard the Coach say if we're not passing our finals we can't go to some training thing. Right now... Let's say that I wouldn't be able to go," he confessed with a laugh. 

If you spent more time with him, this guilt would probably get worse. The fact that he liked Kiyoko would hurt you more too. But if you didn't, well, you wouldn't get to spend time with him. 

You weren't sure what was worse: the pain of knowing him or the pain of not knowing him. You weren't sure if there was a real answer. 

"Please?" Tanaka asked, "I'll be a good student for you," He put his hands in a prayer motion and pouted his lips dramatically. 

And it's because you have no answer to your question and his pleading soft eyes that you said, "Of course I'll tutor you," 

Was there ever really a question of you accepting? You weren't sure if you knowing him would hurt you, but you knew hurting him would hurt you too much.

"Yes! Thank you so much!" Tanaka yelled, pulling you into a tight hug. You were frozen in his arms, just feeling his warmth, before he pulled back. "Sorry. But still thank you!" 

You smiled at him. "It's fine I just wasn't expecting it." He stared at your face, and you weren't sure what he was looking for. He opened his mouth to speak when your eyes widened. "Wait! You have practice today." 

"Oh, I told Nishinoya to tell Ukai that I was bringing your homework for you. Figured it would buy me some time," Tanaka replied. As if he was barely remembering his original reason for visiting, he reached into his bag and handed you a small stack of papers. "I should probably be heading out though," 

You bit your lip, watching him put his shoes on and reach for the door. "Thanks again, Tanaka," you called out. You cringed as your voice rang out a bit too loud than the small space between you two warranted. 

"Don't worry about it- really." Tanaka grinned. "Take care of yourself! Practice is boring without you," he said. With that, he shut the door behind him. 

You stared at the closed door for a moment, finally sitting down at the table with a sigh. Did your stomach feel weird because the bad chicken you ate was eating you up, or was it the guilt? This was too much. No, he was too much- affected you too much. 

Maybe soulmates do mean something. You always wondered if they were overrated- a tradition that didn’t mean anything. However, there was definitely a pull towards him you had never felt before. A pull that took over your whole body and mind. You couldn’t think clearly when he was there, but there was an emptiness that filled you up when he wasn’t there- maybe thinking clearly was overrated. 

As if on cue, Tanaka's voice yelling out to Kiyoko echoed in your head. That, having a boy fall for her in front of you, was something you had felt before. That was a feeling you were accustomed to; a feeling you swore you wouldn't deal with in a relationship. 

And you decided that that meant something too. 

                                                                =

You were five when your kindergarten teacher told your parents that she thought it would be a good idea for you to skip first grade. It took exactly a couple of hours for your parents to not so subtly brag about it at the family dinner that night.

You remember how your grandfather's eyes shifted over to you, and they shined as he smiled. "That's amazing, Y/n!" He cooed, reaching over the table to pinch your cheek, "You're so smart,"

The pinch of your cheeks didn't hurt. You weren't embarrassed as both your grandparents gushed about you. Instead, you smiled so hard it hurt your cheeks, looking down so your hair would cover your face.

How was Kiyoko able to deal with them doing this everyday? You couldn't look up the whole night, but you loved hearing them say your name so many times. That night, your grandmother pulled you aside, praising you and telling you to keep working hard.

It was after that day that you began working harder in school. That decision that led to you getting an ounce of your extended family's attention.

As you got older, you got less attention for your intelligence from them. However, your parents always complimented you when you brought back a good test score- no matter how many times you brought back an 'A' before.

You didn't mention your grades to anyone, but you did sometimes leave the rally good assignments or tests out at the dining table when you knew one of your grandparents would come over.

And it still felt nice when your grandma would gasp at the paper and gush about how she had "such a smart grandchild", smiling at you the entire time.

                                                             =

You sat in the back of the library, body hunched over the math test that was handed back the class before and breathing in the scent of old paper. Tanaka had agreed to meet up with you for a study session during lunch. You knew you should be reviewing the material you knew he would have questions on, but you were too preoccupied with the score on the top of you math quiz to focus at that moment.

65

You got a freaking 65.

It was only one quiz. Your teacher let you do retakes, and you knew she would help you review beforehand. Even if you bombed the retake too, you were pretty much guaranteed to get an A for this semester based off of your past tests.

You knew all that, but the tears still burned in the corner of your eyes and throat. You had stayed up late so many nights working on this unit. And you were still only a couple points away from failing. Struggling in itself wasn't exactly rare for you, but struggling at this level was.

"Hey, Y/N! Sorry I'm late, I stopped by the vending machine for some snacks-"

You looked up, quickly rubbing at the tears on your face. "Oh, hi. Thanks," you mumbled.

He frowned and practically ran to the seat next to you. "Hey," Tanaka said, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," you answered, pulling out the papers you had worked on with Tanaka last time intentionally covering the math test. "I'm just being dramatic. We should focus on your studies."

"How am I supposed to focus on studying when I just saw a girl crying?" He dragged out, "I'm a gentleman, Y/N,"

You rolled your eyes. "Tanaka..."

"Seriously-" One of his arms shifted to the back of your chair, ghosting over the back of your neck, and he leaned in closer, "You can tell what's wrong. Even if it's not a big deal, it's bothering you,"

Tanaka's strong gaze was completely focused on you. Despite it just being the two of you in the back of the library, it felt like a hundred people were staring, even though it was only him. You opened your mouth, ready to deflect again, when he tilted his head a few degrees to the side; his gaze never leaving yours.

As if that action alone was the key of your heart, you relented. You grabbed at the edge of your math test, pulling on the page to place it at the top of the stack. You didn't look up to meet his eyes again, but you could feel his gaze burning into you. His hand entered your gaze to reach for the paper, pulling it closer to him, so he could get a better look at it.

"I'm sorry. I know how much work you put in," he muttered. Those words crumbled the walls you had been trying to keep up, and you covered your mouth to keep the volume from echoing in the silent library. The hand that was on the back of your chair lowered to grip your shoulder tightly. "Hey, it's okay,"

"It's just-" You sighed, never putting these feelings into words before. "I'm supposed to be the smart one, ya know?"

"No, I don't know." He let out a chuckle as the crease between his eyebrows deepened.

You took a deep breath. This was something that you had never told anyone before, and it felt like you were exposing everything that encompassed your soul to voice it out loud. "Me and Kiyoko are practically sisters. When we were younger, if we weren't in school, we were with each other. Even as kids, everyone knew that Kiyoko was pretty. At Halloween, the kids would always give her the best candy when we traded. Everyone wanted to be her friend. My grandparents gave her so much attention, and so did everyone in the world," you rambled out. You glanced at Tanaka, and he nodded for you to continue. "And then I got to skip a grade in school, and suddenly people paid attention to me. I remember my grandma took me aside when she found out and she told me-" You leaned closer to Tanaka, looking him in the eye. "-You're smart. If you work hard, you could make anyone listen to you. They won't have a choice but to at least listen to you,"

Even though you were still emotional, you couldn't stop the smile on your face as you thought of her words. You sighed, feeling nauseous. "I know that failing a math test doesn't mean I'm not smart. I know grades don't really measure that but-" The tears were coming back again. "There's a part of me that is... terrified that if I'm not the smartest one in the room, no one will have a reason to listen to me anymore,"

"I'm..." Tanaka's mouth opened before closing for a couple of moments. "I've never had a class with you, but I knew you were smart the second I met you,"

"What?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Everyone can see that you're smart just by you existing. Hell, me, and everyone, can see how amazing you are just by you existing," Tanaka said. His eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but you. "You don't have to prove yourself to anyone. People that are worth it will listen to you anyways,"

You believed every word he said. Tanaka was able to tell the voices in the back of your head to just shut up, even if it was just for a minute, you had to admit that it felt nice. "Thanks."

Tanaka smiled at your acceptance. His already crimson cheeks somehow turned redder before he spoke, "Plus, you're really pretty too," he whispered, as if he was afraid of you hearing him, despite saying it to you directly.

You became aware of his hand that was still resting on your shoulder, and you realized it was resting right on your soulmate mark. This was wrong.

His eyes drifted down to your mouth, and that was all it took for your heart to begin racing. You leaned in closer without realizing it, and Tanaka mirrored your actions. His breath fanned over your lips; all it would take was angling your head for your mouth to meet his. A small angle, and you could finally experience what you had imagined so much at night ever since you met him.

This was wrong.

You leaned back a bit, just enough so you couldn't feel his breath anymore. His closeness was making your mind haywire, but you refused to leave his close embrace. "I should tell you something."

This was wrong. This wasn't right if he didn't know.

Tanaka raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue. You opened your mouth to speak when footsteps coming closer caught your attention. The incoming person's presence pushed the two of you away. His arm abandoned your shoulder as you both began staring at the papers in front of you.

The first-year ignored the pair of you, instead focused on the shelves. They mumbled to themselves for a moment before grabbing a book and walking back towards the front of the library, completely oblivious of the moment they walked into.

You sighed, realizing what you were about to tell him. Him finding you smart and pretty didn't mean he liked you. It meant he was a nice person. It meant he was one of your friends; any of your friends would have said the exact same things. Just because it felt different didn't mean he meant it any different.

"What were you going to tell me?" Tanaka asked, turning to you with still burning cheeks.

You wondered if he did mean it any different. None of your friends would have leaned in to kiss you. But none of your friends was as open about wanting a girlfriend as he was.

"I don't remember." You forced a laugh, and both of you knew it was fake. You grabbed your pencil before looking at him. "What did you want to go over?"

Tanaka stared at you for a moment or two before a frown settled on his face. You wanted to make it disappear, but you were utterly lost on how. He reached for a spare piece of paper. "Uh... I was confused on the second section a bit." " That stiff tension didn't leave until lunch ended. You went to class, and Tanaka usually walked with you between classes. You noticed that he wasn't there that time, and you tried to convince yourself that it didn't bother you.

"Y/N!" you heard someone yell, and you smiled as soon as you recognized the voice. He stopped next to you with a dramatic sigh. "You didn't wait for me! I had to run!"

"I'm sorry. I thought you were busy with something," you said, pressing your notebooks against your chest as it hammered. "I'll wait longer next time, okay?"

He stared at you for a moment with a bright smile. "I'm counting on it!"

If it was anyone else, you would've rolled your eyes at their yelling. Since it was him, you couldn't stop smiling. You both acted the same, but you felt different. Instead your soulmate mark seemed to burn with every word you spoke to him. It really did hurt to talk to him, but you couldn't imagine not talking to him.

                                                            = 

You grabbed your bag and stood next to the gym doors, waiting for Kiyoko to get back from the storage closet. Hinata and Kageyama’s shoes squeaked against the shiny gym floor as they continued practice, while the rest of the boys were packing up. Nishinoya yelled from one of the corners where they kept their gym bags were, "Y/N! We need a girl's opinion,"

"What are you talking about?" You asked, stepping closer to where Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Sugawara were sitting.

"Do you think soulmates are a big deal?" Nishinoya asked.

You rose your eyebrows, trying to ignore the nausea that grew in the pit of your stomach. "What do you mean by big deal?"

"Like do you believe that being someone's soulmate means you're meant to be?" Suga clarified as he zipped up his gym bag.

"I think being someone's soulmate just means that you and them will always have a deep connection. I don't think it means you have to be with them in a romantic way," you said, purposely avoiding Tanaka's eyes, "I wouldn't want them to date me just because I'm their soulmate,"

Suga glanced over at Tanaka for a moment before asking, "So if you were in a relationship and then met your soulmate, would you break up with them?"

"I don't know," you shrugged, "I don't think so. It would take a lot for me to open up to someone in order to date them, so it would take a lot for me to break up with them just because I met another person,"

"Even if the other person was your soulmate?" Tanaka asked.

You looked over at him and noticed how his lips were drawn in a tight line. "Well... even if someone is my soulmate, they're still a new person to me. If I met my soulmate and we immediately started dating, I'd also wonder if they're with me only because I'm their soulmate. I'd rather be with someone I know and trust than drop someone just because I was born with a birthmark," You squinted as Tanaka nodded. What the hell was going on with him?

"That's what I was saying!" Nishinoya said, clapping the back of your shoulder, and you tensed up as his hand made contact over your soulmate mark. "I was telling that to Tanaka!"

Suga smiled turning to Tanaka. "See? A lot of people date non-soulmates now. They even choose those relationships over their soulmates sometimes."

"Yeah, I know you're right," Tanaka nodded and turned towards Suga, "I don't know. Everyone in my family married their soulmates. One of my aunts even left a guy she dated for years because she met hers, so I'd hate to get to know someone only for them to choose their soulmate over me,"

"Wait-" Your voice made Tanaka turn back towards you, and his eyes widened as if he forgot you were there. "-Are you into someone, Ryu?"

"I... uh..." Tanaka stumbled, and Nishinoya chuckled from your side.

So that's a yes.

You forced a small smile on your face. "Whoever it is, you should ask them. Anybody would be lucky to date you," you said, "Plus, my parents aren't soulmates, and they're still married,"

"So you would date someone that's not your soulmate?" He asked.

You nodded, refusing to say the words you actually wanted to verbalize. "Of course. Especially because I would never date someone just because they're my soulmate. If I loved someone, I wouldn't leave them for anyone," you said, "I just want my soulmate in my life; it doesn't matter how they're in it,"

"You're talking as if you've met your soulmate," Suga said. You tensed up, acutely aware of the fabric of your shirt rubbing against your mark.

Kiyoko walked up, throwing her backpack onto her shoulders. "Are you ready to leave, Y/N?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," you rushed out, your body relaxing as you turned towards Kiyoko. "I'll see you guys later!"

Sugawara and Nishinoya waved, and Tanaka nodded bye at you. You crossed your arms as you began walking home with Kiyoko. "Are you okay? You seem tense," she said.

"I'm fine, just tired," you smiled at her for a second before you looked forward again. She definitely didn't believe you, and you knew that. Despite that, she didn't press forward instead walking forward with you in silence.

Tanaka liked someone else, to the point where he was talking about it with the team. You knew Tanaka. Once he was set on something, he wouldn't stop, so you knew it was only a matter of time before he asked her out.

What if it was Kiyoko? Actually, you were pretty sure it was Kiyoko. That would suck. You hated the idea, but you were still hopeful he'd listen to you. All you wanted was him to be happy and in your life.

Because you had made a decision, it hurt a lot more to not know him.

                                                            = 

"So you've been hanging out with Tanaka a lot lately," your best friend, Rika, said as she grabbed a chip from the bag you were both sharing. You and her were sitting at a table that was outside on school grounds. It was one of the few times you weren't shadowing the volleyball practice, instead choosing to spend time with Rika and work on your English project together.

You rolled your eyes, a smirk on your face betraying your true feelings. "Yes... We are spending some time together."

Rika froze tracing the pencil marks on your posterboard to look up and raise her eyebrows at you. "Is that it? Just spending time together?"

"What exactly are you fishing for?" You chuckled as you grabbed another marker.

"Oh, don't play dumb with me!" She shouted, laughing the entire time.

"I'm not playing," you snapped back with a smile, "Please tell me what you're implying,"

You took your eraser and began working at some of the pencil marks Rika had already traced over. She pouted from the other side of the table. "Fine. Just tell me how many times you guys have slept together."

You reached over the table to hit her on the arm, making her cackle. "We haven't done anything for your information!"

"Okay, how many makeout sessions then." She shrugged with a Cheshire cat grin.

"We're just friends."

"Oooookay." Rika rolled her eyes. "You do not look at your friends like that. And if you do look at your friends like that, I am very offended that I do not also get those loving and longing looks, and I want my apology right now."

You smiled before sighing. "You're gonna be mad at me, but you have to promise that you wont' utter a word of this to anyone," you said, leaning forward on your elbows.

"Of course," she said.

"So sometimes Tanaka will take off his shirt during practice when he does something really good," you muttered, "I've seen his soulmate mark... He's my soulmate,"

Rika smiled and looked like she was about to jump up and down. "Oh my god! That's amaz-"

"I haven't told him yet."

Her face immediately dropped as you finished your sentence. "What the hell? Why wouldn't you tell him?"

"I think he likes Kiyoko."

"I love you so much Y/N," she said with a shake of her head, "But god damn... You think that every person on the planet has fallen head over heels for Kiyoko!"

You frowned and shook your head. "Him and his friend literally flirt with her all the time during practice and games."

"I've literally told you that you're so hot I want you to get me pregnant," Rika deadpanned, "But trust me, I see you as nothing other than a friend,"

You chuckled. "I know, but it's different because we both know there's no chance of anything like that happening."

"Maybe him and Kiyoko both know that there's no chance of anything romantic happening between them too," Rika suggested. She grabbed another marker and began filling in some of the drawings on the corner of the poster.

A gust of wind came, and you put your hand on the poster to keep it from flying away. "I get what you're saying," you muttered, "I don't know... I've seen how he talks to her,"

"And I've seen how he talks with you," Rika retorted, "Besides soulmates are a big deal. He's not just your soulmate; you're his,"

Guilt exploded in your stomach at her words. "He did tell me all the couples in his family are soulmates," you muttered. Even if he was considering asking someone who wasn't his soulmate out, you knew that it must be a big deal if he was having discussions with the team about it.

Your parents weren't soulmates, but you watched movies- you knew that soulmates were a big deal. It was a big piece of information, and you knew you were wrong to not tell him.

"I don't know why I can't just tell him," you muttered.

"I know," Rika gave you a small smile, "But the longer you don't tell him the worse it's gonna blow up in your face. And the worse it's gonna hurt him,"

"I should tell him," you sighed.

Rika nodded. "You should tell him."

Just as she finished, Tanaka came into view, still in his gym clothes and sweat rolling down his face. "Hey!" He practically yelled as he stood next to the table. "Are you ready to go or do you need more time to..."

"We're good," you rushed out with a smile. You turned to Rika, and the smug look on her face made you instantly regret it.

She smiled. "Pretty excited?"

"It's a tutoring session," you answered.

"Sure," she deadpanned with a smile, "Wanna meet up during lunch tomorrow to finish this up?"

"Sounds like a plan," you replied grabbing your bag and standing up, "Bye,"

"Bye!" Rika called back before winking, "Be safe!"

Your heart went into overdrive as you understood the real meaning of her words. You sent her a pointed look before Tanaka replied, "Be safe too!"

He's so innocent, you thought with a shake of your head before you both began walking to his house.

                                                             =

Your body felt light as you walked to the gym, smiling when you heard the distinctive squeaks of shoes and huffing of the players. The floor was shiny and smelled of lemon from the janitor's cleaning of it over the weekend. Practice hadn't officially started yet, but some of the boys were already warming up. Ukai was muttering to himself and making notes on his clipboard.

Tanaka stopped stretching for a moment to walk over to you with a smile. "Hey, Y/N. I didn't see you at lunch today."

"I was working on an essay. My teacher offered to give me feedback before I turn it in, but I had to give it to him today," you said.

"You didn't eat lunch, did you?" Kiyoko's voice cut through, and you tensed up as you turned to her with a small smile.

"No, I ran out of time before I could," you muttered. To anyone else looking at Kiyoko, they would think she was stoic. To you, you noticed how her eyes squinted and her jaw clenched just a minuscule.

She let out a breath. "It's not healthy."

"I know, don't worry," you said, "I'm fine,"

"You've been skipping meals in order to study a lot lately, haven't you?" Kiyoko asked.

Tanaka raised his eyebrows. "Is that true?"

"I've been busy with school this week," you defended, looking between the two of them, "I'm fine, really,"

Kiyoko tsked before walking over to her gym bag. Tanaka cleared his throat, making you focus on him. "You really shouldn't skip meals. It's not healthy. You're gonna burn yourself out," he said with a frown.

"I'm sorry," you replied with a tight smile, "I honestly didn't even realize I was doing it,"

Kiyoko showed up at your side with a bento box and a pair of chopsticks before shoving the items into your hands. Your eyes got wide and sparkled. You weren't paying attention, but Tanaka smiled at your reaction as his own eyes softened.

"Is this your special bento?" You asked, and Tanaka's heart lifted at the wonder in your voice. Kiyoko simply nodded. You threw your arms around her. "Thank you, Shimmie!"

"Shimmie?" Daichi asked as he took a sip of water.

Kiyoko pulled back and placed her hands on your shoulders. You smiled at her as she led you over to the gym doors. You asked, "What are you-"

Without a word, she pushed you out of the gym. "Skipping meals is not a good habit. You can come back in after you have completely emptied that box," she said before shutting the door.

You stared at the door with your jaw dropped before you shouted with a giggle, "You're a bully, Shimizu!"

Inside the gym, Tanaka glanced at her as she zipped up her bag. "Don't you think that's a little harsh?"

She glanced up at him, staring at him for a moment with a stoic face. "Y/N does this every year. If she stayed in here, she'd probably get distracted and forget to eat again," she said as she stepped closer to him. She sent Tanaka a pointed look, but he wasn't sure what it actually meant. "She's smart, but she doesn't take hints well. You have to be blunt with her sometimes to get what you mean,"

"Uh... yeah," he muttered with furrowed eyebrows.

She looked at him for another moment before Ukai called to her.

Meanwhile, you were sitting in front of the gym, eating the bento box Kiyoko made for you- full of your favorite things. She made it for you every finals week. She must've been really worried about you if she was making it right now.

When Tanaka's eyes drifted to you later in practice, now with an empty bento box, he saw how your smile seemed brighter. He took a sip of water and overheard you thanking Kiyoko and promising to take better care of yourself. He couldn't hear Kiyoko's response, but it made you giggle, and Tanaka felt the same excitement you get as you hit the drop on a roller coaster.

As if you could feel his gaze on you, you looked over at him from across the gym before smiling. He smiled back widely, feeling the heat on his cheeks. He had crushes before, and he was always afraid of looking dumb in front of them. But he didn't care if he looked dumb as his smile got wider. You furrowed your eyebrows at the gesture, still keeping your smile as you mouthed, 'What?'.

Tanaka shook his head with that dumb smile; his heart forcing him to break the gaze and look at his bag. Daichi cleared his throat as he put away his own water bottle, making the second-year look over. "It's none of my business, but I'm pretty sure she likes you too."

"I-I don't know what you're-"

"Of course you don't," Daichi interrupted with a chuckle as he stood up, "But I think it'd be really dumb of you to not tell her soon. Heard some third-year has his eyes on her,"

"Really?" Tanaka asked with wide eyes, following the captain back onto court.

Daichi smirked and glanced over his shoulder at Tanaka. "No, but your reaction shows that you can't handle the idea of someone else."

He walked away as Tanaka froze before glaring at him. "Hey, that's mean!" Daichi shrugged at the accusation as Ukai started the next drill. 

Tanaka realized his eyes were always drifting to you, and he realized Daichi was right. He wasn’t sure if you did reciprocate his feelings, this pull towards him, but he knew he couldn’t handle you being with someone else. Not if he could stop it. 

Not if you could be with him. 

                                                                =

You sighed as you stepped off the bus, stretching your legs immediately. You enjoyed going to their games, but the ride over always killed you. You grabbed your overshirt with Karasuno's colors on it, fanning it, and sighed as cool air began to hit you.

"Hey," Tanaka's deep voice pulled you out of your moment, "I have something to tell you," Your hand holding onto your shirt froze. Tanaka looked down at your shoes and groaned. "Man, this is really hard to get out."

You sighed and crossed your arms, feeling your intestines tangle up. You had no idea what he wanted to say, but you felt guilty every time you looked at him. It wasn't right. "I have something to tell you too," you said, voice croaking through your dry mouth.

He furrowed his eyebrows, finally getting the courage to look up at you. He opened his mouth to speak when Ukai cleared his throat, getting the team's attention. As he began listing the time of the game and other details, Tanaka whispered to you, "After the game, yeah?"

You looked at him, focusing on how his jaw was clenched. "Yeah, that's fine," you muttered.

You were tense the entire game as you watched with Yachi and Saeko. Yet you were still cheering with them. Watching Tanaka now reminded you of the first time you met him. Even as someone who had never played the game, you could tell that his technique was improving, and it made your heart light up as you remembered all of his ramblings about practice.

He was working so hard, and it made you proud that it was showing.

The crowd around you cheered as Tanaka hit another spike perfectly. He glanced up at you with a grin. You smiled back at him with a thumbs up before an elbow hit your side.

You whined as you looked up at Saeko's Cheshire cat grin, "I saw that."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you muttered, avoiding her gaze and focusing back on the game.

"Oh, please." Saeko rolled her eyes with a loud sigh. "I've seen your guys'study dates." She put air quotes around study.

"We do study," you retorted.

"You also flirt the entire time," she chuckled before she looked over at you, "Don't worry. I think you're good for him,"

Your head whipped over to look at her before you could even question about how that action would look. "You think so?"

Her eyes softened as she shook her head with the same smile. "Yeah, I do." Before you could question her further, the boys scored another point, making Saeko jump up and clap loudly.

Your eyes focused back on the game. Your legs bouncing as you sat on the bleachers. It was match point, and you could feel their confidence as the referee blew her whistle.

Although it took a few minutes for them to score the point, it felt like a couple of seconds. You yelled cheers with Yachi and Saeko, about to stand up when you felt something cold and wet run down your back. "Oh my god," you flinched, turning around to see a five year old fallen over the bleacher behind you, his soda cup open.

Your overshirt began to feel sticky as the soda seeped into the fabric. His mother grabbed his hand to pull him back to his feet. "I'm so sorry," she said, "He got excited when they won and tripped and-"

"It's fine," you replied, pulling your overshirt off, "I'm wearing something underneath. It was an accident,"

The mother gave you a relieved smile before she tugged on her son's hand. "Apologize to her."

He looked up at you with a deep frown as he squeezed his cup. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you smiled, "I know you didn't mean to," You turned to Yachi. "I'm going to the bathroom to rinse this off. I'll meet up with you and the team later, okay?"

Yachi's eyes widened, too consumed with the win to even notice the interaction. "Yeah, I'll let them know."

You thanked her as you walked away, trying to remember your way to the bathroom. You sighed as you went into the bathroom; it was full of people using the bathroom after the game. You turned on the faucet, running it underneath the cold water.

Meanwhile, Tanaka was cheering with Nishinoya and Hinata. He looked around for you- the adrenaline coursing through his veins making him want to pull you close. He felt like he was on top of the world. He felt like the kind of guy that could look you in the eye and confess.

"Where's Y/N?" he asked as Saeko hugged him.

Yachi rose her hand to get his attention. "She went to the bathroom. A kid spilled his drink on her so she had to wash her shirt."

Nishinoya hit Tanaka's arm. His eyes glowed. "Dude! You should go and give her your jacket!"

"Give her my jacket?"

"Yeah!" Nishinoya was practically jumping as he explained his idea. "You give her something of yours to protect her from the cold. And while she's thanking you- Boom! You ask her out!"

Saeko rolled her eyes as she listened to the boys, but Tanaka's smile just got wider. "You're a genius!"

"I know," Nishinoya shrugged his shoulders.

Tanaka looked at Yachi. "Where are the bathrooms?" She muttered out directions, and he was off. He sprinted towards the bathroom, panting as he stopped nearby, barely missing the line of women waiting outside. He was bouncing as he waited.

Then you stepped out of the bathroom, squeezing some of the spare water out of your shirt. Your hair was pulled up, and you were left in your tank top. Tanaka smiled at the sight of you, still not used to you dressed in casual clothing. You stood in the hallway, looking around as you tried to remember the way back to the bus, and he stepped closer towards you. You turned to walk forward, turning your back to Tanaka.

His mind went blank as he stared at the mark etched onto the back of your shoulder. Tanaka couldn't think at all; his feet moved forward. He reached out and touched your shoulder, making you jump and turn around.

You relaxed as you met his gaze, a smile appearing on your face. "You scared me," you laughed, "Couldn't wait ten minutes for me to get to the bus?"

"I heard your shirt got messed up. Here's a jacket, so you can cover up," he mumbled.

"Thanks," you said as you grabbed the jacket, pulling it on quickly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his facial expression. "Hey! You should be smiling. You just won a game!"

"Yeah..." he muttered.

You squinted at him. You grabbed his wrist, pulling him out of the crowded hallway and towards the wall. He followed you without protest. "What's wro-"

"You're my soulmate."

Your blood ran cold at his words. "I can ex-"

A bright smile appeared on his face. "We're soulmates!" he yelled, catching some of the strangers around you to glance over at the pair of you.

You smiled back and rolled your eyes as he began bouncing with excitement. You reached out to his hand to pull him back towards the wall, clearing the way for people walking in the hallway. "Tanaka, calm down, you're making people look over."

"Let them look!" he retorted with a smile before he furrowed his eyebrows, "This is amazing! This is a big deal! How are you not freaking out right now?"

The small smile you had on your face vanished. You sighed as your stomach began twisting itself. "Um..."

"What?" he asked.

You knew he would probably move on if you didn't mention it. He would probably believe you too. You could move on, and he would never have to find out. However, the guilt was already overwhelming you as you thought about it.

"I already knew."

His eyes widened, staring at you. "You already knew?" You nodded. "How long?"

You pressed your lips together. His stoic expression wasn't doing anything to calm you down. "Since the first practice I visited."

"That was months ago!" Tanaka said. His frown deepening as he scoffed.

"I know," you said.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

You sighed. Tears were burning in the corner of your eyes as you shook your head. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" he repeated, drawing out the words.

"I'm sorry," you said, voice choking up. "I should have told you sooner. I was going to tell you today, believe me. It's what I was going to tell you-"

"I-I-" Tanaka sighed, looking away from you. "I need some time."

"Tanaka-" You reached for his hand, but he pulled it out of your reach. You sighed, crossing your arms as the crowd in the hallway passed around you. You stepped into the hallway, tears burning as you walked back towards the bus.

Yachi smiled brightly at you. "Isn't that Tanaka's jacket?"

You glanced down at it, pulling the fabric around you tighter. "Yeah, it is." You looked over as Nishinoya's laugh, catching sight of Tanaka. His face was stoic as he listened to the boys talking to each other. Yachi spoke up again, "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you blurted out. Yachi nodded, but you knew that she didn't believe you. You sat next to her on the bus, and you listened as she rambled about her ideas for the next fundraising poster.

You kept glancing over at Tanaka, who was sitting with Nishinoya a few rows in front of you. Even from that distance, you could tell that he was still upset. Knowing that you were the reason he was upset made you want to burst into tears.

Which is exactly what you did when you got home and laid in bed.                                                              = To say you were miserable over the weekend would be an understatement. You texted Tanaka an apology, but he didn't respond.

The radio silence was killing you the most. Every time you were upset that he would never love you the same way, you would tell yourself that he would at least be in your life. That losing him entirely would be worse than him not loving you.

And here you were- losing him entirely.

Kiyoko definitely noticed the change. She had asked you multiple times what was wrong but didn't manage to get any information out of you. Kiyoko was a protective person, and you didn't want your hurt feelings to make her have any animosity towards Tanaka. Mostly because you did know that it was your fault.

You were both excited and terrified at the idea of going back to school when Monday came around. The thought of seeing him, even if it was just a glance, seemed like a saving grace. This was the longest you'd ever gone without talking to him since you met, and you felt like you needed to see him in order to calm down your mind. However, you had a gut feeling that he was still upset. And the idea of him turning down talking to you felt like it would break you in half.

He was the first, and only, person you had ever opened up to you on such a personal level. The fact that he felt betrayed by you hurt you to your core.

Monday, you were broken in half. You didn't realize how much you were used to walking to classes with him until you watched him walk in the hallways with his own classmates. You skipped going to practice that day, telling Kiyoko that you had to study for an upcoming test.

Tuesday, you felt like someone was trying to tear your heart out of your chest. There was a dull ache in your body as you walked to class, glancing at him for as long as you could before going inside your classroom. It had now been four days since you last talked to him- four days of crying and hating yourself. So you decided to try to go to practice and talk to him before or afterwards. Your hands were shaking as you walked to the gym. You pushed the gym door open slowly. It was weird to be this anxious stepping inside when you've spent countless hours in here. You looked around when you saw Kiyoko and Tanaka talking to each other. You clenched your hands into fists until your nails were digging into your skin, hoping that the small amount of pain would keep you from crying yet again. Assuming Tanaka's feelings was what had gotten you into this mess, but you couldn't help it as he stepped closer to her. "Hey," Hinata practically yelled, "I didn't see you yesterday! I'm happy to se-"

"Can you tell Kiyoko that my parents wanted help with the shop, so I'm leaving early today?" you asked.

He froze, before nodding with a frown. "Yeah, I can. Make sure to drop by soon though!"

"I will!" you called back, already turning around for the door. You didn't see how Tanaka's head shifted over to you at your voice.

Kiyoko cleared her throat to get his attention again. "I don't know what happened with you two, but my cousin has been miserable for the past couple of days. You have too. Whatever happened, make sure you fix it."

Wednesday, you were a ball made out of anxiety and nausea. After you got home and cried until you had a piercing headache, you decided that it was you that hurt Tanaka, which meant that it was your responsibility to apologize and explain. You stopped him as he was going to lunch, grabbing his wrist the same way you did that day after the game. His eyes widened as he looked at you. "Y/N-"

"Please just let me explain," you said, ignoring the confused looks Suga and Nishinoya were sending each other as you two talked to each other.

"I-" Tanaka sighed and clenched his jaw before letting out a deep sigh, "I can't."

Your hand dropped, falling to your side. "What do you mean?"

"It's a big deal," Tanaka said, frown deepening as he saw your eyes begin to shine. "I need some more time before I..."

He didn't finish his sentence, and you didn't ask him to. Instead, he turned around and walked to lunch with his friends, dodging their questions. You went into the bathroom and wiped at your face, taking a deep breath to calm down the overwhelming pressure to hyperventilate.

Thursday, you were more frustrated than anything else. You understood Tanaka better than you understood yourself. When you saw him in the hallways, he wasn't smiling like he used to; you were lucky if you saw a smile from him at all. Kiyoko had casually (but you knew she did it intentionally) mentioned to you that Tanaka was more aggressive than usual in practice. You weren't sure if he was as miserable as you were, but you knew that he was hurting just the same.

Tanaka was sitting at a table in the courtyard with Nishinoya, Hinata, and Kageyama during lunch. You took a deep breath as you walked across the lawn towards the table. Hinata and Nishinoya kept talking, but you could feel Kageyama's eyes on you as you stood next to where Tanaka was sitting. "Y/N-" Tanaka started.

"Is this silent treatment making you feel better?" you asked. You took deep breaths in order to try to keep your emotions in check enough to talk.

Tanaka furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"If it is, I'll leave you alone till you want to talk to me," you said, "If not, then please let me talk to you,"

Tanaka stared at you for a moment before he stood up. "I'll be back," he muttered to his friends before he walked past you and towards the school. You followed him into an empty hallway. You leaned against one of the walls as he stood in front of you. It was silent for a couple of moments before he spoke up, "So what do you have to say?"

You had always heard some people say that Tanaka was scary, and you didn't understand that until now. You didn't think he was scary, but his anger was definitely intimidating as he stood in front of you.

With a deep breath, you said, "I'm sorry. I should've told you sooner. I should have told you the second I found out. It wasn't fair, and you had a right to know."

"What was the plan? Were you just going to move on and let me think I never met my soulmate?" he asked. His eyes were rich with anger and hurt.

"I kept meaning to tell you, but I chickened out every time." You shook your head. "I was planning on telling you after the game that day. That's what I was talking about when I said I had something to talk to you about. I didn't mean to keep it to myself for as long as I did,"

Tanaka stared at your face for a moment before he sighed; his shoulders relaxing as he did. "Did you want someone else as your soulmate?"

Your eyes widened, and words fell from your mouth without thinking. "No. No. No. I never wanted that. I'm glad you're my soulmate."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" he exclaimed, hurt highlighting every word.

"I-" You sighed, taking a moment to collect yourself. "I thought you liked Kiyoko."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Why would you think that?"

"I saw how you and Nishinoya talked about Kiyoko at the first practice, and I thought it was obvious," you said, tears finally escaping your eyes. "I've never had someone look at me and look at Kiyoko and then choose me..." Tanaka's eyes widened as he took in your words. You sighed. "That doesn't mean that it was right for me to keep it from you. Soulmates are a two-way street; you should've known,"

"Do you still think that I like Kiyoko?" he asked slowly.

"I-" You opened your mouth but you shut it when you realized you didn't want to say the answer. He sighed, remembering Kiyoko’s words; you needed things to be blunt sometimes. 

Tanaka took a deep breath. "Ya know, I've had a crush on you since we were first-years."

"What?" 

"I bumped into you in the hallways, and I've liked you ever since," he said, "When Kiyoko brought you to practice, I was just so excited to get a chance to talk to you. I saw it as my first chance to actually make a move. To understand why when I look at you... I don't care what anyone else in the world thinks.

"I liked you way before the soulmate thing was even involved in this," Tanaka continued and stepped closer, "You're my first choice." Your breath hitched as you took him in. His eyes were shining with the same passion you had only seen him have while he was on the court. As if he would fight anyone that disagred with him. "And I will always choose you first. No one else is even an option,"

You were frozen as you two stared at each other. "Tanaka-"

"I will tell you that a hundred times a day if that's what it takes," Tanaka said, "Because it's the truth, okay?"

You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer to you, making him trip in the process. His arm reached out and slammed against the wall next to you to keep himself from falling against you. Your mouths slotted against each other. His cologne and the soft fabric of his shirt invaded your senses as your lips moved against his.

You were wrong. It wasn't a glance at him that cleared your mind; it was having him against you like this. Having him take you in and tell you that it was okay- you were okay. Tanaka's hand traveled to your waist, bunching up the fabric of your shirt as he deepened the kiss. You gasped against him as you were pressed further into the wall. His lips were soft, contrasted by his harsh movements against you. Tanaka was gentle, but he wanted to prove to you that he wanted you. That you could trust him with yourself.

The guilt that had lived in you for months dissolved into excitement. The pull towards him that you had repressed for so long, that need, finally being pushed to the surface was refreshing. It felt like you were drowning before, and this was the first breath of air you took in after he pulled you to the surface.

You sighed as he pulled away, panting as you stared at each other. He stayed close to you, lips ghosting over yours, sharing the same breath as you. "You're my first choice too," you whispered.

A bright smile appeared on his face as he stared at you. He leaned in closer, capturing your lips in a small kiss, leaning in to capture them as soon as they were released. As if he cared more about kissing you than breathing.

When the bell rang, finally pulling you away from each other, he intertwined his hand with yours. Smiles on both of your faces as he  walked you to your class. And those smiles stayed on your faces as you both went into the gym. You tried your best to ignore the congratulatory pat on the backs he got as the team saw your connected hands. But you smiled when Yachi began pestering you with questions. 

A promise made between the two of you, one without words. He would remind you of your worth every second of every day if he had to. 

And you would believe him.

[harmonizingsunsets]

I can feel your heart beating under my skin

Day 4 of Kate x Anthony week, prompt: no ifs, ands, or buts.

Archive link here.

(Also inspired by the leaked photos of season 2)

The Bridgertons invited the three Sharma's out for the last horse race of the season for entertainment. However, Kate knew this was all a scheme so Anthony could spend more time with Edwina. She didn't doubt the Bridgertons enjoyed watching a horse race, as they seem like the competitive sort. But, she knew Anthony's true intentions behind the invitation.

When they arrive at the event, Anthony's waiting right in the front. He smiles from across the way, and it grows even more prominent as Kate intensifies her glare.

"He looks rather handsome today, don't you think?" Edwina whispers.

"The color doesn't suit him," Kate shakes her head. However, her eyes linger up and down his form. "But I don't blame the shade. I don't think anything suits him."

"You both are wearing blue. It's like fate!"

Kate thinks that if fate was involved, it's more so a cruel twist of it than any romantic notions Edwina has in her mind.

As they near Anthony, his eyes find hers. She tries conveying as much distaste for being in his company that she can, without looking too impolite. Within a few seconds, Mary nudges her arm, making Kate think she hadn't succeeded in being conspicuous of her hatred.

He and the other Bridgertons escort them inside, but Kate stops by the betting area. It leads her and Anthony to row about the horses.

Kate wants to place a bet on the horse Apollo. While she's never been to a race in person, she keeps up with records in the paper. The odds aren't in his favor, as it's his first season, but he's been improving steadily over the past few months. Kate has a feeling that today will be his day.

Anthony, however, was placing all his money on Archer, the favorite of the year. Kate forces herself to raise her head high as she places her bet, showing complete confidence in her choice despite Anthony's warnings.

Edwina and Mary didn't place any bets. To be fair, Kate hadn't planned to make a bet either. However, she seems to be doing many unexpected things whenever she's in the presence of Lord Bridgerton.

When they make it up the steps to their seats, Kate asserts herself between Edwina and him. Anthony gives her an annoyed look, knowing what she's doing. Kate smiles broadly in response, turning her face towards the track.

"You can still back out, you know," Anthony whispers beside her. "They usually don't let people retract their bets, but I think they could make an exception. You know, if I tell them you're soon to be part of my family."

"No exception needs to be made. I am not backing out," Kate states firmly. "Why would I, when I have the winning horse?"

"Your winning horse hasn't won a single race in his career."

"It's his first year. His career is just getting started," Kate defends, squirming slightly. "Today is the day he will succeed."

"It's just like you not to root for the most accomplished horse, the one with the most promising record. Your logic goes beyond sense."

"And your pride goes beyond reason," Kate snaps.

"Beyond reason? Status, money, and coming from a good family are not reasons?"

Kate frowns, knowing that they are good reasons. They are reasons that would make any other sister proud to approve of such a match for their sibling. But it wasn't fair that Edwina had to take on so much pressure to marry well. Edwina should marry someone she has affection towards, who isn't such a rake.

But while Kate knows Edwina didn't love Anthony, nor would ever love him, she knows Edwina could be content. Anthony could give her anything she desired. She would be a viscountess, and their marriage, while not founded in love, could perhaps be based on respect. Most people were not so lucky to have such a match.

Yet, Kate couldn't approve the union. Not just because he was a rake, or because Kate found him intolerable—but because of something else. Something she can't describe but can feel twisting painfully in her gut whenever she pictures Edwina and Anthony together.

"They are reasons that society values, and I cannot ignore having merit," Kate relents after a moment, her words careful but firm. "But, they are not the only factors that matter."

Anthony's anger fades a little, his eyes focusing intently on hers. "What factor am I missing?"

Kate opens her mouth to respond but finds her throat dry. Anthony's eyes pivot their focus on her eyes to her parted lips.

She feels something undefinable in her stomach again. But this time, it's not a painful sensation. It's something warm and is more of a fluttering feeling instead of a tug. The only thing similar to what she feels when thinking of Edwina and Anthony is the same deep ache. It starts in the pit of her stomach and flows throughout her body.

Kate's startled out of her thoughts as she hears a horse neighing in the distance, kicking at the doors that contain them.

"It's about to start," Kate says, standing up with the rest of the crowd.

Anthony blinks a few times as if he'd just looked right into the sunlight and nods.

They both turn to the track. The crowd is abuzz with excitement. Kate hears someone countdown, and the horses begin running.

Kate gets swept up in it, standing up and shouting encouragement as Apollo gallops farther forward each second. Anthony cheers loudly for his horse beside her, who has a lead over the rest.

Kate also hears what she thinks are curses from Lady Danbury behind them. She mutters something about ill-advice she'd gotten before the race.

As the horses round the corner, Apollo edges past Archer, his speed increasing. Kate, in her excitement, whistles loudly, not caring at the moment how unladylike she appears.

When the horses are a few feet within the finish line, Kate feels a flash of lightning strike her palm.

Anthony's hand is suddenly in hers, gripping it tightly in anticipation as he watches the race.

Kate's breath comes in and out more sharply, unable to steady the pace of it. Her senses, instead, are all at work in her hand. They memorize the grooves of his palm and the warmth of his touch.

At that moment, Kate thinks her hand has never served its entire purpose as a hand until Anthony held onto it.

Apollo was edging past Archer, but her eyes couldn't focus on the horse. She stares at his bare hand, resting on top of her glove. Kate finds herself curious how it would feel if she took her glove off and entwined her fingers with his.

If Anthony's hand on her glove summoned lighting, she can't imagine what kind of storm would appear if his skin brushed against hers.

As the crowd's cheers become louder, she forces her eyes towards the track and sees her horse cross the finish line. Anthony's hand falls from hers, his mouth wide in shock. Kate jumps up and down in delight.

"I won!"

"You didn't win. The horse did," Anthony says bitterly.

"The horse I bet on, the one you said I was a fool to choose because no one else bet on it." Kate folds her arms across her chest with a triumphant smirk. "Well, Lord Bridgerton, sometimes the best bets are on overlooked things."

Anthony's disappointed expression falters, his eyes studying her intently.

"Perhaps you're right," he murmurs.

Kate smirks. "Did you just say I'm right?"

"I said perhaps," he specifies with a roll of his eyes. "I should fetch some refreshments if you're feeling faint and missing entire words from other's sentences."

"I don't feel faint. Actually, I feel better than I have in a long time."

Edwina stands from where she had remained sitting the entire race. "I could do with a refreshment."

Anthony startles a bit, appearing as if he'd forgotten she was there.

"Ah, yes...of course. I shall return shortly."

"When you return, I shall be a richer woman," Kate says before he turns away, unable to resist continuing to jest about his loss. "I will pay you back for the refreshment since you are recently low on money."

"You are not a humble winner, Ms. Sharma."

"No, but I am a victorious one."

He shakes his head at her, but she can see a bit of amusement twitching at his lips as he turns away. Kate watches him leave for a moment. When she turns back around, she sees Edwina watching her with a coy smile.

"So, did you enjoy the race?" Kate asks.

"Not as much as I enjoyed watching you and Lord Bridgerton."

Kate gaps at her sister. "What are you referring to?"

"Oh, please! He forgot I was next to him. His only focus was on the horses, you, and your hand."

Kate shifts her feet awkwardly. "Perhaps he thought it was yours."

"Or perhaps, your hand was more enticing than mine."

Kate sighs. "Edwina, that's not—."

"Kate, it's alright," Edwina assures, not looking bothered in the slightest.

"No, it's not," Kate insists. "He's your suitor, a suitor who I do not approve of but is one nonetheless. He should pay attention to you and not the horses."

Edwina puts her hands on her hips. "Or perhaps, he's taking your advice and paying attention to a bet that's overlooked but extremely valuable."

Before Kate can respond, Anthony approaches their side, holding out glasses of water. "Here are the refreshments."

Edwina takes a glass, but Kate doesn't take hers, stepping around him. "I should head up to the box to claim my winnings."

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

Kate narrows her eyes. "I think I can make it a few yards without a gentlemen's protection."

"Excluding my brothers in attendance, most men here are not gentlemen," he argues.

"Yes, especially when putting you into account," Kate says, enjoying the way his face hardens at her insult. "But, I think I can manage."

She doesn't want to leave Edwina alone with him, but Mary is on her other side, and his brothers are close as well. She doesn't trust Anthony as far as she can throw him, but she doubts anything improper would occur in such a public place or the presence of family members.

After claiming her winnings, Kate begins to walk back to her seat but bumps into Mrs. Bridgerton.

"Congrats on your win, Ms. Sharma," Violet says before Kate can get out her apology.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bridgerton," she says. "Did you bet on one of the horses?"

"I bet on something before the race, but it wasn't on one of the horses."

Kate quirks her head. "Oh really?"

"It was a bet that Colin proposed, that Benedict bet against, and I bet for," she explains, a joyful sparkle in her eyes. "I am proud to say that my son Benedict lost."

"What was the bet? That Lady Danbury would jump and ride her horse to victory if it hadn't gone fast enough?"

"No, but that would have been quite the sight," Violet chuckles.

"Then what was it about?"

"Let's just say the horses we bet on are closer than the ones on the track."

Kate's face flushes, and Violet's smile widens.

"Have a good afternoon, Ms. Sharma. Wish your sister my best."

"I...yes, of course," she stutters.

Instead of rejoining the group, Kate waits for them near the entrance gate. But she's not alone for too long. She sees Anthony approaching her by himself. The others must be still chatting in their seats. Kate considers turning away, but she knows it would look like she's trying to escape from him.

"So, you gathered your winnings for the horse?" he asks, pointing at the pouch in her hand.

"I—uh, yes. It's from no other bet, I assure you."

"You're cowering out on gambling after you've had your first win?" Anthony steps towards her and shrugs. "Just as well, it was due to beginners' luck, anyway."

"It was not luck. I made the right bet," Kate corrects. "Why can't you admit that I bested you?"

"Where would be the fun in that?"

"This is fun?"

Anthony's eyes gleam wickedly. "Well, it is, isn't it?"

Kate's heart quickens, and she takes a step back.

"I should go to my sister, make sure you didn't sneak some potion into her drink to convince her that you're not intolerable," Kate says, changing the topic. "But if such a potion did exist, I doubt it would be strong enough."

As Kate begins to walk back, she uses the railing on the other side for balance. But as she reaches the edge, a nail snags on her glove, slashing right through it.

Kate curses under her breath, clutching her hand. Anthony quickly runs to her side, eyes wide and worried.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I just tore my glove."

"And cut your hand," Anthony adds and holds out his palm to her. "Let me see, Ms. Sharma."

Kate whips her arm behind her back. "I am perfectly alright."

Anthony steps closer, a more serious look on his face than she's ever seen on him.

"Let me see."

It's not a question. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about Anthony's tone. Kate pulls her hand out from behind her back and hesitantly holds it out to him. Anthony takes it, gently slipping off her glove and inspecting the wound.

Kate forces herself not to shudder as his fingers dance across her skin. She knows he's trying to observe the cut, but his thumb lingers on each line of her hand, and he draws circles on her palm unnecessarily.

Anthony's heartbeat somehow passes through his touch, and she feels it beating underneath her skin.

"It's not too deep. Perhaps an ointment would make it heal within a week or two," Anthony says, his voice somewhat lower than before. He turns to look at the glove in his other hand, which has a large hole in it. "But I'm not sure your glove is as salvageable."

"I could sew it, but it would look rather obvious," Kate sighs sadly. "I better toss it."

She goes to reach for the glove, but Anthony pulls it out of her reach. "I'll take care of it."

"Discarding one glove won't make me change my mind about you and Edwina," Kate protests.

"I doubt it would," Anthony says, looking like he's fighting off a smile. "But just the same, I'll take care of it."

Kate wants to argue but sees that this is something even she can't move him on. She nods and continues her way back to their seats.

But, she unwisely spares a glance back at Anthony. He doesn't toss the glove. Instead, he pockets it.

Kate forces her eyes forward, trying not to get carried away in romantic notions that could never apply to her.

When she makes it back to the stands, she finds Edwina waiting for her.

"There you are, what took you so—wait, a different question," Edwina cuts herself off, looking down at Kate's bare hand. "Where is your glove?"

"Oh, I tore it against a nail."

"Where is the glove? Perhaps I can mend it."

Kate waves her off. "No, that's alright."

As Edwina studies her curiously, Kate thinks back to the feeling of Anthony's hand on hers and the weight of his stare.

Kate's previous notion had been correct. Anthony's bare hand in hers did bring forth a storm. It was a storm that was unpredictable and dangerous but alluring all the same.

"I have a feeling that glove is something I can never get back once given," Kate whispers, so quietly that Edwina doesn't hear a single word.

As they leave, Kate sees the clouds darkening and brewing with newfound energy. It tells her the storm isn't over.

Instead, it's just beginning.

[thecrownnet]

The Crown season 5 will see a whole new cast of actors as the major players in what is said to be the most trying period in the Queen's life.

*Article published in Jan 2021

Netflix's The Crown season 5 will see a whole new cast of actors portraying Queen Elizabeth, her family, and other major players in what is said to one of the most trying times in British history. The show has already seen two separate casts, one led by Claire Foy in seasons 1 and 2 with seasons 3 and 4 led by Olivia Colman. Sticking to tradition, showrunner Peter Morgan is set to bring in one more batch of actors for the show's final two seasons, episodes that will inch The Crown's timeline toward the modern day.

This particular baton pass may be the most important in the show's history, considering the particularly intense turbulence the royals had to endure in the 1990s. The Crown season 4 had already begun to shake things up for the Queen and those in her orbit, having introduced two monumental figures in British history: Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and Princess Diana. Though the show neatly wrapped up Thatcher's tenure as PM in the season's final episode (having been replaced by the Conservative Party's John Major), Diana is sure to continue on as an influential player in the show's coming story. Though Morgan has been rather quiet about the exact years season 5 will cover, it is possible that he may need to move the narrative at a slower pace than usual, taking time to cover the numerous scandals, divorces, and tragedies that marked the era.

However, which actors will get to embody the historical figures during this tumultuous period largely remains a mystery. Since the show's filming schedule has been delayed, The Crown is not likely to return until 2022, giving the creators a bit of time to assemble their cast. However, Morgan and Netflix have confirmed a few casting choices of important players who are sure to be at the heart of season 5. So far, here's who has been cast in The Crown's next season.

Imelda Staunton As Queen Elizabeth II

Fans of the show have largely applauded the casting of Imelda Stauton, who will replace Olivia Colman as Queen Elizabeth II. The London-born four-time Olivier Award winner has a long history of turning in stellar performances on both the stage and screen. Perhaps best known for her portrayal of Dolores Umbridge in the Harry Potter film series, Imelda Staunton is also recognizable for her work in Kenneth Branagh's Much Ado About Nothing, Nanny McPhee, Maleficent, and the recent Apple+ show, Trying. Throughout her career, the actress has demonstrated a wide range capable of being authoritative and humorous in equal measure - qualities The Crown will surely lean into.

Bringing someone as experienced as Staunton on board for The Crown's coming story will certainly prove to be a wise move considering all that is in store for Elizabeth. Since season 4 concluded on Christmas Day 1990, the next batch of episodes will likely begin shortly thereafter, perhaps in 1992 - a year which the Queen has called her "most horrible year" in speeches. During that single year, the marriages of many of her children began to fall apart - Anne divorcing, Andrew separating, and Charles' widely publicized troubles with Diana leading to their separation, as well. Additionally, 1992 saw a fire at Windsor Castle, an event that led to the Royal Family paying income taxes for the very first time. On a more positive note, the Queen's new Prime Minister, John Major, is said to have been rather supportive of the Royal family, despite their disastrous decade.

Jonathan Pryce As Prince Philip, Duke Of Edinburgh

Game of Thrones' Jonathan Pryce is headed to Buckingham Palace, replacing Tobias Menzies (another Westeros alum) as Prince Philip. Pryce's long and varied career has seen him in projects such as The Two Popes, the Pirates of the Caribbean series, The Wife, and a slew of Shakespearean plays. With multiple Tony and Olivier Awards under his belt, Pryce is a welcome addition to The Crown's new roster, especially when playing a role so significant to the larger series.

However, which Philip-centric stories Morgan could focus on are a bit difficult to guess, as the Queen's husband began playing less of a public role amidst all of the 1990s drama. The show has previously showcased a certain bond between Philip and his daughter-in-law Diana, so it is possible season 5 will see the fracturing of that relationship (letters suggesting they were angry with one another have been unearthed in recent years). Also during this era, the Windsors' financial strain led to Buckingham Palace opening its doors for public tours. It is likely that Philip - who has been presented as one of the more progressive royals on the show - will be instrumental to that particular storyline, harkening back to the character's role in televising the Queen's coronation and the Royal Family's day-to-day life.

Lesley Manville As Princess Margaret, Countess Of Snowdon

Lesley Manville will be stepping into the role of Princess Margaret, vacated by Helena Bonham Carter after her two-season run. Manville's work in Phantom Thread earned the English actress a handful of accolades, including a 2017 Academy Award nomination. She has also been seen in the Harlots series and in films like Maleficent, All or Nothing, and River. Manville also has an extensive list of onstage credits.

Season 4 of The Crown saw Margaret coming to terms with her diminishing role in the Royal Family as her responsibilities and influence continued to be usurped by a younger generation. Though still an important presence in Queen Elizabeth's life, the Princess was largely sidelined for much of the 1990s. However, during this decade, Princess Margaret saw Peter Townsend for the last time, so it is possible that her former lover - so important to her early storyline - will make a return. Unfortunately, Margaret's health continued to decline during the 1990s, with her suffering two strokes and being confined to a wheelchair. However, since Manville has signed on through the end of the series, the character's death in 2002 will likely not be covered until season 6.

Elizabeth Debicki As Diana, Princess Of Wales

Replacing Emma Corin, Elizabeth Debicki will assume the role of Lady Di, a figure who had achieved a level of unprecedented attention by the early '90s. Fans largely marveled at Debicki's similarities to the Princess of Wales and have been vocally supportive of her casting. Seen in films like Tenet, Widows, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, and The Great Gatsby, the Australian actress has been one of Hollywood's fastest-rising stars and it is likely her portrayal in The Crown's newest line of succession will only help take her to new heights.

Of the cast members of the coming season, Debicki may be the one with the most daunting task ahead of her. The Crown often covers historical and news-worthy events surrounding the Royal Family and in the 1990s much of the press centered around the young princess. With her relationship with Charles disintegrating (much to the consternation of her in-laws), Diana sat for a series of interviews with Andrew Morton, who published Diana: Her True Story - In Her Own Words, a book which became a worldwide sensation. A little over a year after her divorce from Charles, Diana was killed in a horrific car accident while fleeing from paparazzi - a tragedy that the series is sure to deal with at some point. However, since Debicki is signed on to season 6, it is possible that Princess Diana's death won't be covered in season 5.

Though only a handful of actors have been announced for The Crown season 5, it is certain that characters like Princess Anne, the Queen Mother, Harry, William, and Prince Charles (Dominic West is reportedly in talks for the role) will be seen again. As far as Prime Ministers go, most - if not all - of the upcoming season will see John Major in the top job but, depending on the years it ends up spanning, it's possible we might see the entrance of Tony Blair. Regardless, judging from who's been announced so far, the Windsor family's story will continue being told with another incredibly talented cast.

*The Crown recasts every 2 seasons. The actor for Prince Charles in season 5 and 6 has yet to be announced.

[archeo-starwars]

I have a question I have been trying to answer. Do you know if there is any mention of fiction in universe? I know there is mythology and storytelling, but the mythology is more of a religious artifact and the storytelling tends to be in either a mythic tradition or fables. I’m kinda fascinated by the in universe implications of not having recreational fiction.

I assure you, there is in-universe fiction created for enjoyment, like (holo)books, holodramas, holofilms or even (holo)theater or opera performances  that aren’t stricly historical, mythological or religious in nature.

Sadly,  we know little to none of its true content as the sources mention usually just titles and maybe an authors what makes difficult to tell for sure what kind of stories were popular in galaxy far, far away (and the fact that we rarely see “normal” daily life of people, as in, life that is not overshadow by war(s) and great tragedies does not help at all. Especially with the whole imperial propaganda seen in plenty of holodramas). Still, here comes some of examples that could fall into “recreational fiction” category:

Holonews like this:

Quest for Quasar

Fans Don't Like Ottekvar

BALDERDASH, ADARLON - Although the entertainment industry is abuzz with the casting choice of Harlan Ottekvar for the role of Lord Baltharog in Myris Pictures' big budget Quest for Quasar adaptation, a small but vocal undercurrent of devoted fans have taken to the HoloNet to criticize the decision.

"According to the original sourcebook, Baltharog is 1.89 meters tall. Ottekvar is only 1.84 meters, maybe 1.86 in boots. Do they expect us to overlook this?" said Groz "QuasarKing327" Niclari on his public HoloNet infocache. Niclari hosts the largest fan-run Quasar infocache, and has collected nearly 1.5 million signatures in his online petition to have Ottekvar replaced. The height discrepancy is only one contentious issue (though some fans are quick to point out that the 1.89 meters came from a spin-off source, and thus is not canon). "Ottekvar is just too famous. Whenever I see his face, I think SuperKnight: The Awakening, or Webb Tenger: PeaceBuster, not Baltharog." Ottekvar himself is unphased by the outcry. "C'mon guys. It's only a holo," he said.

Quest for Quasar, directed by Mryis' proprietary HoloMaker 4.0, opens next summer. (x)

or this holonews:

Holo Critics Preemptively Bemoan Summer Season

CORE WORLDS NODE - At a gathering of the most influential media critics, Core World Critics Association President Jaysa Namoor began lambasting the holomedia industry on the upcoming summer season. "Some readers say I've been writing the same review for the past five years. Well, that's because Adarlon keeps pumping out the same holo for the past five years," said Namoor, eliciting applause from her colleagues. Her tirade included the usual attack against "cardboard characterization, offensive liquid-based humor, bone-numbing full sim effects, and juvenile anthropocentric plots." Not having seen the holos, she nonetheless panned the anticipated summer titles Cataclysm Prism 4, Whelping Day, Split Infinitive, Lightspeed Lightweight, Tenta-kill 5, Another Idiot's Array 2, Crimson Empire III and A Google of Gornts.

another holonews had this little commercial picture with the best-selling reading around 23BBY (promoted just before Attack of the Clones, which makes sense why people wrote about Dooku in-universe)

“Medstar I” book mentioned this:

Den took another sip. "If you don't mind my saying, you seem rather-unusual for a droid. How did you come to be assigned here?" At first it seemed that the droid was not going to re-ply. Then he said, " 'I am cast upon the winds of space and time, like a planetesimal spun eternally between suns.'" Now Den was shocked. "Kai Konnik," he said. "Beach of Stars. Winner of the Galaxis Award for best novel last year, if I'm not-" "Two years ago," I-Five corrected him. Den stared at him. "You have an impressive knowledge of literature for a droid." "Not really. My memory banks are programmed with more than two hundred thousand novels, holo-plays, poems, and-" "I wasn't talking about memory," Den said. "Most protocol droids have the capacity to store that much in-formation. And most droids, if asked to quote from a particular work, can access it as easily as you just did. But," he continued, leaning forward, "I've never met any kind of droid yet who could use the material meta-phorically. Which is what you were doing."

Millenium Falcon book mentioned children(?) show:

"Amelia, do you remember little Lando?" Three years old and all but a clone of his father, he was holding a toy dragon and dressed in the same outfit worn by Lando Senior. "Hi, Lando," she said, going over to him. "Is that the dragon from Castle Creep?" The toddler nodded shyly. "Perystal." "I watch that show, too! Is Perystal your favorite toy?" "I have a Prince Gothik." "Wow. I used to have a stuffed tauntaun."

and Insider 199′s short story give us the steamy Zeltron novel(s):

This ones I couldn’t check with original sources, but let’s trust wookiepedia:

The Adventures of Shane Carlton of the Rebel Alliance was a romance novel telling the story of Shane Carlton, a fictional member of the Alliance to Restore the Republic. It was widely inaccurate and exaggerated. There was a copy of the novel in the Imperial Data Processing Facility on Tazan. (x)

or

Captain Rygaen's Ploy was a holofilm where Rollo Morsai, under the working name "Jona Reeten," played a tramp freighter captain. (x)

or

Juo Deltar Faces Gamblor the Terrible was a holovid of the Jedi Action genre. It focused on Juo Deltar, a scoundrel-type adventurer and Jedi, fighting Gamblor, a Hutt Sith Acolyte.

During the Clone Wars, the Zabrak Jedi Knight Nek Lawsirk borrowed it from Hedrett Holovid, a holovid shop located in Hedrett, on Cularin.(x)

I’m pretty sure further research would bring more examples, but like you can see, people of galaxy far, far away have and enjoy recreational fiction in various shapes. So it’s less not having such fiction (holodramas are in itself the best argument for that) and more that sources do not focus that much on this aspect. Which makes sense, since most stories focus on Jedi or Sith who either don’t pay much attention to “normal life” or don’t have time or opportunity to do so.

[ratingtheframe]

Everything That Happened at the 2021 Golden Globes

The first two months of the year are finally over and as the days grow longer, we can start to see the early signs of spring. With spring comes summer and with summer comes an influx of movie releases, with the majority of films that were put on hold last year scheduled to be released in the following months in cinemas across the world. You know, cinemas, as in those big rooms where you pay to sit and watch movies from start to finish without pausing it? Gosh have I missed the pre movie adverts, comfy chairs and super wide screens. It's not the same at home and despite Netflix, HBO and Amazon Prime thriving, we shouldn’t set anything in stone when it comes to the quality and accessibility of film. 

Cinema is tradition whereas On Demand is convenience and usually choosing convenience over tradition does impact the quality of work being distributed. There are a bunch of films on streaming platforms that would be too inappropriate for cinemas, seeing as they lack a cinematic or dramatic feel to them to be good enough for a big screen. This allows mediocre to downright awful films to find an audience via streaming platforms. All well and good, seeing as these platforms are great exposure for upcoming filmmakers but at the same time it's a capitalistic system that puts views above the quality of content. It doesn’t matter if what you’re watching on Netflix is bad, they just want you to keep coming back for more. This can be said for mainstream cinema too, but to a lesser degree seeing as cinemas typically release around 68 movies per month, whereas Netflix has the ability to add up to 200 releases on their platform per month. It makes perfect sense that Netflix has the viewers that it does, as we can see that it releases almost twice the content of cinemas per month. For the avid cinephiles, this leaves us wanting a lot more as we’re only able to enjoy maybe one or two films a month from online streaming services, because the quality is so inconsistent. I hope that cinemas open soon so that I can relax knowing that the film I’ve paid money for will be of a good quality. 

Speaking of good quality films, Chloé Zhao, director of Nomadland (2021) became the second woman in the 78 year history of the Golden Globes to win an award for directing. This is an exceptional triumph and from the moment I saw Nomadland, I knew that it would have an incredible impact on awards circuits this year. Nomadland also won Best Picture, which proves something that up and coming filmmakers may need to start getting their heads around. People may not necessarily be gravitating towards cinema for a chance of escapism any more. I thoroughly believe those days are behind us, buried in the 70s and 80s with films that defied the laws of filmmaking and went to extreme lengths to serve us an entire universe that we couldn’t even comprehend. However, as the world grows more fragile and people start to realise the fragility of life, we want to connect with one another authentically and realistically. 

The way that film can do this is by showing our real selves on screen, showing our pain, redemption, emotions, fear, honesty, laughter, race, gender, humanity, darkest secrets and biggest dreams using the backdrop of cinema to sell us a story. People want films that are honest and are a reflection of humanity as well as the current society we’re living in. Not necessarily “a slice of life”, but a slice of humanity that we never see because it’s never impacted us directly, yet we still want to be made to feel like it has through film. That’s the key to success in any film, making the viewer feel like they’ve experienced something on screen even when they haven’t. If the film is too far away from our own psyche or humanity, we switch off, as we can no longer relate or even want to relate to something so obtuse and boring. Nomadland was the complete opposite to this theory, bringing us humanity in all its glory; its sadness and pure emotion that affects millions everyday, especially in such a time when loneliness is rife.

This is why Mank (2020) lost out. In a time where the world is in a sensitive disposition, Mank came as ineffective to the world of film. Though triumphant in it’s making, the film proves the fundamental foundation of film that Mank failed to do; have a good story. Mank just wasn’t the story people wanted or needed to see and one can appreciate a filmmaker’s efforts to make films but at the end of the day, the story is truly the only thing that’ll carry a film and if it's uninteresting and impersonal, people switch off. And they clearly did, seeing as Mank lost out to all SIX of its nominations. Less is more, I suppose, seeing as Nomadland won two out of four awards, including the top prize of Best Picture. David Fincher even took a shot every time he lost a category. Better luck next time.Other snubs included Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman (2021) starring Carey Mulligan ,which was released on VOD last month. The film was nominated for four prizes and I suppose the lack of release in cinemas worldwide or at a Film Festival meant the lack of hype for the film. Regina King’s One Night In Miami...failed to pick up a prize, having been nominated for three awards. King shouldn’t be too disheartened, seeing as her debut definitely got her the recognition she deserved.

Aaron Sorkin most notably won Best Screenplay for his amazing picture, The Trial of the Chicago 7. I had the fortune of catching this in cinemas and the musicality of this screenplay was unreal. An incredibly authentic, riveting and honest piece of work, I believe we can safely say that Aaron Sorkin is the greatest writer for cinema and TV in our day and age. Sorkin is used to being showered with accolades, from Primetime Emmys with The West Wing, to an Oscar with David Fincher’s The Social Network.

The late Chadwick Boseman was honoured in full glory, having won the award for Best Supporting Actor in a Motion Picture for his role as Levee in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. An exceptional performance that reeks with Oscar success, Boseman is the first actor to be awarded the prize posthumously.

What’s also to be noted is the amount of British nominees and winners at this year’s ceremony. It seems like the American Film & TV market is wide open for Brits, seeing as Emma Corrin, Josh O'Connor, Daniel Kaluuya, Sacha Baron Cohen, Rosamund Pike, John Boyega and Anya Taylor Joy all won awards for acting. Helen Bonham Carter, Olivia Coleman, Vanessa Kirby, Riz Ahmed, Gary Oldman, Antony Hopkins, Dev Patel, James Corden, Hugh Grant, Jodie Comer, Lilly Collins and Nicolas Hoult all received nominations and were all born in the UK. The Crown in particular just seems to be getting more successful with each year and despite its controversy, the show has won Netflix 7 Golden Globes and 10 Emmys. What does this tell us about our actors and their ability in comparison to our friends overseas? Is it just a stroke of luck that the majority of actors who won this year are British or are we doing something different? Only time will tell as more British actors begin to be recognised for their flare over in the US.

If anything, we’ve learnt that The Golden Globes is for everyone. Anyone can win an award despite their background as long as those who control the awards ceremony are willing to give a variety of films a chance, not just ones directed by David Fincher. Nomadland is certainly an underdog for cinema, one that may not have done as well had other films been released last year. COVID-19 created space for this film to be seen and has truly been taken in as a work of art, proving that films of the same kind deserve to be seen in the up and coming future. British actors can and have made it big in Hollywood and it seems like American audiences welcome them with open arms. Sacha Baron’s Cohen’s humour in Borat Subsequent MovieFilm wasn’t unrequited, seeing as it won Best Musical / Comedy at this year’s award season, meaning every moment of that film (incriminating or not) WAS WORTH IT. Even though Regina King and Emerald Fennell lost out on their respective films, their work has been courageous and profound in helping to give space to women in the film industry. The fact that they were even nominated along with Chloé Zhao, was an achievement in itself and has women like me looking up to the success of these three women and realising that I could have the same shot. Mank came at the wrong time, and though good visually, it lacked a beating heart that the Golden Globes could identify with enough to give it at least one award. Soul was named Best Animation Feature Film of the year, also winning an award for music with a beautiful score by Atticus Ross, Trent Reznor and Jon Batiste. The Queen’s Gambit also reigned supreme, as Anya Taylor Joy won Best Actress for a performance in a mini series / tv film and the overall series won Best Television Mini Series / Television Film.

This has to be the best Golden Globes I’ve ever witnessed. Not only did it champion diversity in the film categories, British Actors and female directors, it actually gave consumers as well as judges, something that actually wanted, which was to see underdogs thrive in an environment that’s usually laid bare for the same characters. Let’s keep this up for the next ceremony !

ig @ratingtheframe

[shutupandshipit]

Sharpen Your Blades - Ch.7

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 7/20

Previously <- Chapter 6: Something about cats and bags

Chapter 8: First Snows -> Next

Chapter 7: Catch

“Making their debut, our first place winners are still unofficial as they haven’t presented yet, but we cannot wait until they do! When they go official, they are going to dominate the competition! So, without further adieu, coming in first place, we have Bakugou Katsuki as lead and Midoriya Izuku as follow! Let’s give these two youngsters a round of applause!”

The announcer’s voice rang distantly in Izuku’s ears. With his anxiety and panic and excitement all mixed together, his heartbeat raced and his face burned. Katsuki’s heat pressed into his side, the back of his neck and shoulders, didn’t help the situation. The thud of his heartbeat in his ears was nearly deafening in the already loud rink. All of the applause and shouting voices and whistling was echoed and amplified by the dome.

Gold medals and pretty red ribbons were hung around their necks. Just another sensation that Izuku’s overstimulated mind struggled to incorporate.

Dizzy nausea swirled over him. The announcer moved on to the second and third place winners, but his mind didn’t stop spinning.

He was only seven. He didn’t know how to deal with his emotions in a healthy way yet, but he knew how to act like he did. It was one of the first things he’d learned how to do when his father started to disappear for longer and longer stretches of time, and his mom couldn’t hold in her grief around him anymore.

While his smile remained firmly in place, he felt himself sway just slightly.

Katsuki’s arm tightened across his shoulders, holding him upright even as his knees turned to jelly beneath him. “Almost done. Then we can go home and watch tv.” His voice was quieter, much quieter than the cacophony around them, but Izuku heard him clear as day. Just like always. Just like it was one of Katsuki’s superpowers. “Can you make it?”

“I can make it,” Izuku told him, and though he wasn’t sure if he was being truthful, he knew Katsuki would make sure it was the truth in the end.

…..

October Week 4

Aizawa stood at the entrance to the rink, but unlike nearly a month ago when Izuku had been on the same side as him, he was on the ice this time. Their coach pinched the bridge of his nose while he waited for them to form up and shut up, brows pulled close together as if he had a headache. It was early in training for him to have a headache though, so Izuku thought that someone else must have caused it this time.

The team quieted down faster than the time before.

Izuku could almost taste their anxiety on the air. Or maybe that was just his own.

“Alright,” Aizawa started, not lifting his head, but cracking his eyes open to stare at the ice, “Who’s seen the news today?” Several hands went up, one of them Izuku’s. “How many of you stuck around to watch the sports section?” All hands dropped, even Izuku’s. The only sport he cared about was figure skating, and the news rarely covered it, even in their city. “Right, so, I’m not sure who let it slip, but somehow the media got ahold of the news that we and Shiketsu are splitting our teams this year.”

Izuku squirmed, remembering Mirio’s words. After a moment, he raised his hand. “Um, Mr. Aizawa, I think I might know something.” Heat rose in his face as all attention swung his way, but he pushed on. “Mirio asked me to verify the rumor last week. I didn’t agree or disagree, but…”

“But you’re shit at lying, so he knew right away,” Katsuki snapped, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. “The kids I teach also asked me about it last week.”

“Right,” Izuku mumbled, “Well, he said that someone had given him the information. Maybe there’s a leak in the SC?”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Aizawa scrubbed a hand through his hair. “That seems likely. While it’s not going to cause us much of a problem, it might in the coming weeks. You all know how it gets as the season ramps up to the Preliminaries. Keep an eye out for each other. This stunt that the SC is pulling might make things worse, especially when the other teams start to flood in. I’m not worried about the teams themselves, but fans can get crazy. Try not to be out and about on your own if you can help it. Any of you. Yes, I’m talking to you Bakugou. Just because you’re an alpha doesn’t mean idiots aren’t going to try challenging you for being Midoriya’s partner. Keep your heads up, keep them on straight, and don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”

“Yes,” the team called in unison.

“Good. Shiketsu and we are going to be releasing a joint statement concocted by the SC with the names of the skaters who are transitioning between pairs and singles tomorrow, so you can expect to be recognized more than usual in the next few days.” They all groaned, but Aizawa simply waved away their complaints. “Whatever. Pairs, we’re going for large tricks on ice today. Stretch out well. Warm-up. Meet me on the south side of the rink in fifteen. The rest of you, you’ll be with Toshinori and Yamada today. Get going.” Aizawa turned towards the three coaches behind him, mouth set in an irritated line.

Izuku’s throat began to close as the five pairs, Todoroki and Ashido pushed off towards the south side of the rink. Panic leaked from him, and it was all he could do to keep it out of his scent.

Despite that, he still caught Katsuki turning his head to glance over his shoulder at him, but stopping briefly before he could turn all the way. After a second, he turned back forward. Could Katsuki smell it on him even through his blockers? Even though he was trying to force it down? Was he that obvious or did Katsuki just have a strong nose?

Fifteen minutes was far too short of a time to calm anxiety like Izuku’s.

Aizawa was waiting for them when Iida’s watch chimed the end of their warm-up period, and the twelve of them clustered around him and Ishiyama. “We’re going to do one team as a time to keep the ice clear. Ishiyama and I are going to act as spotters, but the ten who will be against the wall need to be alert as well. We’ll be up close and may miss a subtle indication of a fall. So, if you see something, say something or even jump in. I’d rather you get in the middle and it be for nothing than for someone to get hurt. This is mostly directed to those with pair work, but this also goes for everyone else as well.”

Aizawa’s eyes lingered on Katsuki longer than any of the others. He wasn’t surprised. Katsuki was a strong alpha with a long history of pair work. It would make sense for Aizawa to rely on Katsuki, even if it was just a subconscious reaction from the older man’s omega. Even still, the thought had Izuku’s own omega raising his hackles.

‘We don’t have a claim on him!’ Izuku reprimanded, but his omega wasn’t listening.

Aizawa pointed at Izuku. “Midoriya, Todoroki, you’re up first since you’ve got the most difficult tricks. After that, we’ll go through groups in descending order of difficulty. Let’s go, you two.” He turned on a blade, gliding out further onto the ice.

Izuku wanted to throw up.

“Midoriya?” Todoroki’s voice was quiet and gentle, just as gentle as the hand that settled on his shoulder. “Are you alright? Do you need another moment?”

Jumping, Izuku shrugged out from beneath the other omega’s hand with a wide fake smile. “I’m fine! I’m good! Totally a-okay! Let’s get going before Mr. Aizawa gets angry.” He shoved away from the wall sharply, ignoring every set of eyes he could feel boring into his back. He just needed to calm down. Calm down. Calm down. He’d completed every trick off ice multiple times with no screw ups. There was no reason he shouldn’t be able to do it on ice.

Which, of course, was a lie. The ice was a completely different environment than the studio with a host of different factors to consider. So many extra factors to consider.

All he needed to do was forget about them. It seemed counter-intuitive, especially for his ever analyzing mind, but it was the only thing he’d found off ice that allowed him to perform as he should. He just needed to allow his body to move on muscle memory. If he didn’t think, then his mind couldn’t overreact which meant neither could his body.

It was going to work. It had to work.

Todoroki followed after him. The distance was small, but significant. “What do you want us to start with?” he asked.

“Your overhead lifts have been the most solid off ice, so I want you to start with that first. Take it slow. Don’t rush. One step at a time. Plant your feet, make sure you have a solid foundation and a good grip. Once you’re sure of those, then attempt the lift. If something feels off, just abort and return to the ice. Don’t get hurt trying to force it.”

Lifts were the simplest pair trick in Izuku’s opinion. It required strength and balance, but not much else. He didn’t have to think during a lift. All he had to do was not move once Todoroki had him overhead. He could do that. He could manage a lift on ice. There was nothing to them. Lifts were easy. Lifts were easy. Lifts were easy. Lift were-

High.

Izuku shook his head rapidly to clear the intrusive thoughts from his mind. He made himself smile even wider as the three stared at him. “Sure! A lift will be a cinch.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed as he glared at izuku, but after a moment, he just sighed. “Alright. Take a round to gain momentum. Don’t attempt the lift until you’re back here and see us in position. You can begin your setup once you’ve reached the other side.”

“Sure thing!” Izuku chirped. He pushed off and waited for Todoroki to fall into sync with him before spreading up.

Just like Aizawa had instructed, they waited until they’d made it to the other side of the rink, skirting the edge of the other group, before beginning the setup for the lift. Izuku slid out in front of Todoroki, turning to face him after a moment. He pulled Todoroki along as the other omega planted his feet and gripped Izuku’s waist.

“Almost there. Ready?” he asked, voice ripped away by the rush of air passed Izuku’s ears, but he recognized the words on his lips.

‘Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.’ Izuku nodded.

Two dark blurs came up on either of their sides, and then he was above Todoroki’s head, the omega’s small hand digging into his abdomen as he quickly shifted into position. For a moment, his mind was blank. There was just the beating of his heart, the cold air biting into his cheeks. He started to reach back for his blade.

Then he glanced down. The panic he’d managed to suppress flooded back into his body in an icy wave.

His body seized before going limp, mind going as blank as his vision.

…..

Izuku absolutely reeked of putrid acidic anxiety as they warmed up. It was worse than usual, more potent. Each time Katsuki passed him, he got a whiff of his scent. Putrid like sewage or a rotting body. Acidic like vomit or ammonia. All undercut by suppressants that made him smell almost chemically scentless. All together, it was an unpleasant scent, and it only grew stronger each time he passed Izuku.

It made his stomach curdle and his alpha pace restlessly. ‘Protect. Comfort. Omega distressed. Protect. Comfort.’

‘That’s not my place,’ Katsuki through bitterly, but that thought was quickly replaced by another, ‘Not yet at least.’ Not yet. That was a true enough thought. Not yet, but one day he’d earn that right.

Katsuki didn’t know how the others didn’t smell it, how the other omegas weren’t plastered to his sides in an attempt to calm him. That was how other groups of omegas operated. If an omega was unmated, it fell to their pack mates to calm and reassure them, especially pack mates of the same secondary gender.

The same was true of alphas. Katsuki couldn’t count how many times his alpha pack mates (specifically friends like Kirisihima and Ashido) had pulled him aside to get his head on straight. To calm him when he fell into a panic attack during competition.

Those had started when he was twelve, and they’d never really gone away. Luckily, they only affected him during high stress situations like the competitive season, but he was still lucky to have people there to help him unlike when he’d been younger. When he’d been alone in his own head.

That was what pack mates were for. So it bothered Katsuki more than he’d ever let on that neither Icy Hot nor Uraraka made an attempt to calm Izuku. He wanted to yell at them. He wanted to make them pay attention to the real issue at hand rather than ice skating. An anxiety riddled Izuku was an Izuku prone to mistakes. If they were doing the big shit for practice, they needed to take care of Izuku first.

Leaning back against the wall, Katsuki felt his own anxiety leaking into his veins. Kirishima wasn’t there that time to bring him back down though, and so his heart galloped forward unhindered.

When Izuku and Todoroki pushed off towards the singles’ side of the rink, Katsuki stood up straight. When they turned towards each other and prepared for the lift, he dropped his arms to his sides. When they rounded back towards their side and their coaches flanked them, he dug his toe-pic into the ice. Izuku’s face was pinched in concentration, but there was also that ever present fear as he was lifted off the ice.

Katsuki moved before Todoroki had completed the lift. He wouldn’t have been able to explain what spurred him forward. Maybe there was a slight shift in Izuku’s scent from scared to terrified. Maybe there was a twitch in his expression. Maybe the light dimmed in his eyes.

Whatever it was, Katsuki was there before anyone had realized something was going wrong, catching the omega as soon as Todoroki’s arm collapsed from Izuku’s dead weight. Katsuki only managed to keep them from tumbling backwards by digging his toe-pic into the ice harshly.

The silence in the rink was deafening. After a moment of labored breathing as his heart began to slow, he realized that the rink was as loud as ever, he just couldn’t hear it passed the rush of blood in his ears. All of his attention was focused on the man huddled in his arms, nails digging into his bicep and panting breaths hot against his shirt. Izuku’s eyes were screwed shut.

Slowly, sound returned to Katsuki though he would have been happy for a few more moments of white noise.

“What just happened?”

“How did you do that?”

“Midoriya, Todoroki, are you alright?

“We should get them off the ice.”

“Where’s Ms. Shuzenji? Someone go get the doctor!”

“What happened!”

“Shut up,” Katsuki snarled. It was the only sound he could make that wouldn’t portray just how shaken he was. He could feel the trembling in his hands, in his arms, all covered by how badly Izuku was shaking. He was shaking like a lead in the wind, nose buried against Katsuki’s chest. “Stop fucking yelling. Nobody got hurt.”

There was a sharp hysterical laugh from somewhere close by, and Katsuki wasn’t sure, but he thought that it was possibly Ashido.

“Yes, but someone could have been.” That was Aizawa, voice deep and monotone. Lifting his eyes, their coach stood beside them, soothing black tea scent snaking out as his hand clasped Izuku’s shoulder. “That could have gone very badly.”

Katsuki didn’t say anything in return, arms tightening around Izuku instead.

The feel of Aizawa’s hand seemed to snap Izuku out of his own head, and he blinked rapidly at Katsuki’s chest. “W-what happened?” he whispered, fingers easing up and nails coming away red with blood. His movement grew faster, and he frantically pushed out of Katsuki’s hold. “What happened? I was- Todoroki- How-”

“You fucking freaked out and I had to catch your dumbass!” Katsuki spat viciously and angrily, temper rising the longer he was given to process the whole incident. “And you know what? Fuck that shit! That’s the last time you fucking practice with anyone other than me!”

Izuku sputtered wordlessly, cheeks going pink and scent growing sweeter as they stared at each other. After a moment, he squeaked, “Really?”

The change in his scent only pushed Katsuki on. “Yes! If you’re going to get fucking dropped, it’s going to be by me because at least I’ll be able to fucking catch you!” He pushed roughly through the crowd towards the rink entrance. Only when he made it off the ice did he recognize the tightness in his chest, the shortness of his breath, the heat beneath his skin. Bile burned at the back of his throat.

Kirishima’s arm slid over his shoulders, a gesture that would look like familiarity to any of the others, but was really a means to keep him from faltering as he walked. “I’ve got you man. Let’s go outside for a breath,” he said under his breath, guiding Katsuki towards the side exit that faced a small thatch of trees. A place for him to either freak out or wretch in peace.

Not for the very first time, but for the first time in awhile, Katsuki was thankful that his friend knew how to read him like an open book.

[newmusickarl]

Mercury Prize 2021 – Ranking The Contenders

It is that time of year again – the season of the Mercury Music Prize. In the last few weeks, the albums nominated for the 2021 Mercury Music Prize have been revealed and, as ever, it is a highly diverse and eclectic list of some of the best British and Irish music released over the last 12 months – some familiar, some not so familiar. Each of these nominated records is now vying for the prestigious title of Album of the Year, the overriding criteria for which has greatly deviated throughout the award’s history.

Traditionally the eventual prize winner would tend to be a lesser-known record rather than what was necessarily the best album out of the 12, with the judges choosing to highlight the artist and record that may have been overlooked and needed the most attention. However, this has changed in recent years, with the judges choosing what has been widely regarded amongst music critics as the best album in most cases.

So, with the likes of James Blake, Michael Kiwanuka, Dave, Sampha, Alt-J and The XX being just some of the acclaimed artists that have taken the top prize home over the last decade, the big question is - who is in with the best shout this year of being named the overall winner?

In recent years a strong favourite has often emerged from the pack, but I must say I find the 2021 prize to be the most open and hardest to predict in years. There is no clear favourite this time around for me, which makes for an exciting and intriguing build to the September awards show.

Despite the unpredictability, as I do each year I’ve listened to all 12 albums and tried to rank them based on what I think are their chances of winning. To be clear, this is not a “Worst-to-Best” countdown – this ranking is based solely on how likely I think they are to win the overall prize.

To determine this, I’ve considered the front-to-back listening experience and the artistic achievement attained by the album, the popularity of the artist, how critically acclaimed the album is and how similar albums have fared in recent years too. So without further ado, here’s my final thoughts and analysis on this year’s nominees.

12. Promises by Floating Points, Pharoah Sanders & The London Symphony Orchestra

This collaborative release from electronic artist Floating Points, American jazz saxophonist Pharoah Sanders and the London Symphony Orchestra was one of the albums I hadn’t heard prior to the nominees being announced, so was pleasantly surprised by what turned out to be quite an interesting listen. Built mainly around a twinkly harpsichord and Sanders’ saxophone, the music builds to a swell at various stages before gently disappearing in the same subtle way in which it arrived.

That said, I would be very surprised if this album took home the overall prize and title of “Album of the Year” for several reasons. Firstly, this feels primarily like a Pharoah Sanders project, who is of course American and not British. Secondly, although split into nine movements this is ultimately one single piece of music and the Mercury Prize has always been about celebrating artistic achievement in the traditional album format. Based on this, I’m surprised it has even been nominated and I think this cancels this one out for me.

Of course, there is always a chance this could prevail on the night, but I think it would be too controversial and therefore highly unlikely to get the overall nod.

11. SOURCE by Nubya Garcia

This debut album from London-born jazz musician Nubya Garcia was another record I hadn’t heard before her Mercury Prize nomination, which sees Nubya take the listener on a journey throughout musical history. As she describes the record herself, this is “a collection of thoughts and feelings about identity, family history, connections, collectivism and grief.”

Now jazz records have always found a spot on the Mercury Prize shortlist with at least one record from the genre getting a nomination each year. However, the reality is that none have ever actually won the overall prize - even in recent years with promising efforts from the likes of Moses Boyd, Sons of Kemet and The Comet Is Coming in contention. So as impressive as Nubya’s debut is in parts, I don’t think it is the album to buck the trend.

10. Pink Noise by Laura Mvula

Singer-songwriter Laura Mvula is certainly a favourite with the Mercury Prize judges, with her third album Pink Noise representing the third nomination of her career, making her an impressive 3-for-3 so far. That said, Pink Noise is a very different record to her first two outings, with Mvula lacing these tracks with synths to give them a wonderful 80s aesthetic and neon glow. When combined with her traditional soul style, it does make for an enjoyable and fun front-to-back listen.

However, my biggest reservation with the record is that it’s not particularly ground-breaking – this is a sound that a lot of other artists have employed recently and had similar or greater success to what Mvula achieves here. With this being the case, I’m also putting this one down as unlikely.

9. Not Your Muse by Celeste

Brighton-born singer-songwriter Celeste has already proved herself a hit with critics, having been named as the BBC’s Sound of 2020 prying to releasing this debut album. Across the 12 tracks on Not Your Muse, Celeste’s powerful, beautifully toned voice takes centre stage, simply soaring amongst the glossy musical arrangements. 

From the instantly recognisable groove of Stop This Flame that has been everywhere in the last 12 months, to the string-drenched majesty of A Kiss, Celeste shows off her full range with plenty of style and flair. This is an impressive debut outing to say the least, drawing natural comparisons to the late-great Amy Winehouse for her soulful voice and cinematic presentation.

Although I wouldn’t be completely shocked if Celeste was to walk away the overall Mercury Prize winner, I think the success Not Your Muse has brought her already goes against her case. With its release, she became the first British female to have a No.1 debut album in the last five years and she even already has an Oscar nomination to her name for Best Original Song. She’s also been featured on Sky Sports coverage all year, as well as high profile John Lewis and SuperBowl adverts.

Therefore, I think it’s safe to say Celeste’s career is already flourishing, so a Mercury Prize win for her would simply be another accolade rather than the career-defining moment it has been for other artists in the past, and would be for other artists on this year’s shortlist.

8. Fir Wave by Hannah Peel

Northern Irish composer, producer and electronic musician Hannah Peel makes for a fascinating entry in the Mercury Prize shortlist for me. This was another record that I hadn’t heard previously and took me by surprise, with Peel essentially reinterpreting 1972 album Electrosonic by Delia Derbyshire (famous for creating the original Doctor Who theme) and the Radiophonic Workshop.

Although this is based on source material, this is an entirely fresh composition with Peel’s style of electronica drawing comparisons to that of Mercury Prize alumni Jon Hopkins. Peel herself best describes the record as “The cycles in life that will keep on evolving and transforming forever. Fir Wave is defined by its continuous environmental changes and there are so many connections to those patterns echoed in electronic music – it's always an organic discovery of old and new.”

It is an impressive record, and I was quite torn as to where to place this one on the list. If the Mercury Prize decide to return to their old habit of giving a lesser-known record the overall nod, then Hannah Peel could well be the artist to benefit - but that hasn’t really been the trend in recent years. Additionally, Peel herself is a very successful composer who continues to score many TV programmes and films, as well as putting together orchestral arrangements for the likes of Paul Weller.

For me, the nomination for Fir Wave has already granted it additional attention, which I think makes it a winner already in that sense. It’s certainly got an outside chance for the overall prize itself but based on recent history I don’t see it being named as the winner.

7. As the Love Continues by Mogwai

At this point, ten albums and 26 years into their career, people just about know what to expect from Scottish post-rockers Mogwai, and that is soaring, grandiose instrumentals. Yet somehow with each new release, the band continue to astonish, taking their instrumentals into unchartered territory and leaving listeners in wonder with their colourful, breathtaking soundscapes.

Amazingly, As the Love Continues is the band’s first ever Mercury Prize nomination, which is quite incredible given the high standard of their output over the course of their career. That said, it is not surprising this is the one for which they have finally been nominated, as it is for my money one of their best releases.

From cathartic opener To the Bin My Friend, Tonight We Vacate The Earth, the acid-drenched industrial sounds of Here We, Here We, Here We Go Forever, and the dreamy, looping guitar riff and euphoric crescendo of Pat Stains, Mogwai’s touch for forging fascinating sonic textures hasn’t missed a beat. That said, it is the one track that contains clean vocals that stands out amongst the pack here, and that is the emotional gut punch of Ritchie Sacramento which sees frontman Stuart Braithwaite paying a beautiful tribute to all his musician friends that have passed away over the years.

This is still one of my favourite releases by anybody so far this year and my second favourite album overall out of the 12 shortlisted. So why only at No.7 you ask? Well, because sadly I just don’t see Mogwai taking away the overall prize.

Firstly, as well as their first Mercury Prize nomination this was also the album that saw Mogwai land their first ever UK No.1 album, so they are arguably more popular than they ever have been. Secondly and most importantly, the Mercury Prize has mostly favoured debut albums and younger artists throughout its long history, and I think Mogwai are simply too established and verging on legendary status at this point to get the win. So as much as I love this album, I think it’s likely to get overlooked in the same way Radiohead have been every time they’ve been nominated. Here’s hoping I’m wrong and left pleasantly surprised!

6. Conflict of Interest by Ghetts

Here’s another record where it’s quite puzzling as to which way the judges will sway on this one. On the surface, this third album from Grime MC Ghetts has all the credentials to be a Mercury Prize winner. With the likes of Dave, Skepta and Dizzee Rascal all amongst previous winners, Ghetts comes from a genre that has a winning track record, certainly in recent years as well. 

The album itself is also mightily ambitious and grand in its scope, with each autobiographical, astutely written track seamlessly segueing into the next one. There are also plenty of moments throughout of stunning, cinematic orchestration that help to elevate Ghetts’ bold vision at various key points. Perhaps most importantly though, it is also one of the most critically acclaimed albums on this year’s shortlist, holding an impressive 95/100 on Metacritic at the time of writing.

However, as many reasons as there are for Ghetts to be a contender, there’s also some things working against him, which is probably why he’s landed at the midway point on the rankings. Firstly, I found the album was about 10 minutes too long and didn’t quite strike the same chord that Dave’s Psychodrama, or even Kano’s two recently nominated albums, Made In The Manor and Hoodies All Summer, have done previously. It’s certainly an impressive outing, but for me lacks the emotional punch of those records.

Also, as I said about Stormzy’s record last year and still rings true today - no album that has Ed Sheeran on it deserves to win the Mercury Prize.

5. Collapsed in Sunbeams by Arlo Parks

Into the top five now and I think here is the point where we finally arrive at what are the genuine contenders for this year’s prize. Kicking us off is young singer-songwriter Arlo Parks for her beautifully understated debut album, Collapsed In Sunbeams.

Parks said of the album recording process that she trusted her “gut feeling” a lot of the time, with most tracks “taking an hour or less from conception to end.” This is very evident across this raw, no-frills debut, where her wonderful soulful voice and honest songwriting are often the main attraction across the album’s 12 tracks.

Now, there is a lot working in Arlo’s favour when it comes to acts that historically win the Mercury Prize – it’s a debut album, she has her fans on the Mercury judging panel, and her success has been modest so far in comparison to some of the other nominees. That said though, the vital ingredient this album is missing for me is that grand ambition that recent winners Michael Kiwanuka, Dave and Sampha have all had – this is certainly a well-crafted record, but not necessarily one that will set the world alight and be talked about for years to come. For that reason, my gut says Arlo will be one of the names in the mix on awards night but will ultimately come up short.

4. DEMOTAPE/VEGA by BERWYN

For me, Trinidad-born rapper, producer, and songwriter Berwyn is the real dark horse amongst this year’s nominees. At just 27 minutes long, DEMOTAPE/VEGA is by far the shortest album on this year’s list, but nevertheless still manages to leave one of the biggest impacts.

Ultra-raw, brutally honest and charmingly homemade on his laptop, this debut is the perfect showcase for Berwyn’s talent. Across the album’s concise runtime, he carves out piano-driven R&B and Soul elements to backdrop his spoken-word style of rapping. To draw comparisons to other Mercury Prize alumni with multiple nominations, think James Blake meets Ghostpoet and you’re not a million miles away from Berwyn’s sound. For me personally, this album left a bigger impact in less than half the time of Ghetts’ whole album, thanks to cuts like the mesmerising and passionate 017 FREESTYLE.

Berwyn is certainly one of the artists on the shortlist that will greatly benefit from the extra exposure that winning the Mercury Prize brings so if you want to take a punt on an outsider, this would be the album I’d recommend backing.

3. For the First Time by Black Country, New Road

Much like Arlo Parks, experimental London rockers Black Country, New Road are another artist that have a lot pulling in their favour.

Another critically acclaimed debut and one that blends multiple elements from favoured Mercury Prize genres – post-punk, jazz, alt-rock, math-rock, amongst many others - to make a truly unique and bold sound. With razor-sharp guitar riffs, cutting lyrics and moments of seismic, horn-backed musical swells, this is a record that you can see easily winning over the judges on awards night. Although at times this is a record that’s easier to admire than it is to love, there are moments in which you can’t help but get enraptured, such as the wonderfully erratic Instrumental opening, the epic and meandering Sunglasses and the melancholic, romantic groove of the stunning Track X.

For me, this one is a genuine contender that I could easily see being named as the overall winner. In terms of things going against it, I would say it’s simply down to the fact that these next two albums are on the shortlist.

2. Blue Weekend by Wolf Alice

For me, the album that presents the biggest intrigue on this year’s shortlist is Wolf Alice’s Blue Weekend. This is because as much as there are factors working in this album’s favour, there is almost an equal measure working against this record winning the top prize.

Having released their debut My Love Is Cool in 2015 to much acclaim and their first Mercury Prize nomination, there was a lot of talk at the time as to whether the rock quartet could deliver with their eventual follow-up. With their sophomore effort, Visions of a Life, they actually went one better and won the 2018 Mercury Music Prize, achieving further critical and commercial success.

Now with Blue Weekend, the four of them have produced a record that has managed to exceed the high expectations set by the predecessors. At the time of writing, the record is currently sat on a 91/100 on Metacritic, with a 9.2 user score, suggesting widespread universal acclaim amongst both fans and critics alike – so it would certainly be a very popular winner. It also suggests that by all accounts, this record is a more significant achievement than the 2018 album for which they won the Mercury Prize.

So as the only previous winners on the shortlist who’ve also just created their best work to date, they’re a certainty to win the prize again, right? Well not quite.

You see the thing is with Wolf Alice, they have Mercury Prize history working both for and against them. On one hand, if Wolf Alice were to win, they would become only the second artist after PJ Harvey to win the Mercury Prize twice, and also become the first artist ever to win back-to-back prizes for consecutive albums. If they were to achieve this, I don’t think there would be any outcry from the public, as the consensus with Blue Weekend is that it is a very special album and would be fully deserving of such an accolade. However, to achieve this it would mean the judges doing something they have never done before, and something they have only ever done once previously.

Therefore, you must feel on the night of the awards ceremony, it will ultimately boil down to one big debate - Deserve Vs Need. With this album, it feels like Wolf Alice have finally evolved from Britain’s most promising young band, into Britain’s best band working today. They are at the height of their powers right now, with Blue Weekend landing them their first ever UK No.1 album, helping them to instantly sell out tours and catapulting them to festival headline slots. So ultimately, they don’t need the win like they did several years ago to take them to that next level.

That said, this is the best album on the list and feels like a generational record in the same way Dave’s and Michael Kiwanuka’s did the last two years. Just take a track like The Last Man On Earth for example - a haunting piano ballad built around Ellie Rowsell’s powerful vocals, that begins gently before eventually erupting into a glorious haze of soaring guitars and Beatles-like riffs. It is barely six months old and already this song feels like a timeless classic, and you can argue the rest of the album is the same. So, if any album really deserves to be named “Album of the Year” and make a bit of Mercury Prize history in the process, it is very much this one.

Which way the judges lean on this Deserve Vs Need debate I feel will ultimately decide this year’s prize, whether Wolf Alice triumph and make history or whether this next album pips it to the post instead. My gut says that the latter is more likely, but it makes for an exciting conundrum around this year’s winner and will have me rooting on the night for Wolf Alice to prevail.

1. Untitled (Rise) by SAULT

So here we are then, the album I think is most likely to take home the 2021 Mercury Prize…. and kind of predictably it’s the current favourite. Although it may be the boring choice to put this album first, analysing the chances of mysterious musical collective SAULT against the rest of the nominees, it is clear as to why they are looking the most likely at this moment in time.

Interestingly much like Burial when he was nominated back in 2008, no-one really knows much about SAULT other than the fact they make eclectic and vital music, with their identity still very much a mystery. However, despite their anonymity, the last 12 months have seen them create shockwaves throughout the music world, releasing three highly acclaimed and topically urgent albums for which they could’ve been nominated for any one of them. In fact, on Metacritic’s compilation of all critics’ Best of 2020 year-end lists, both Untitled (Black Is) and Untitled (Rise) landed in the overall Top 10, with the latter for which they are nominated holding an impressive critic score on the site of 93/100.  

Whereas Untitled (Black Is) feels like the rallying cry, Untitled (Rise) is a record that celebrates black excellence, arriving in a year where the voice for racial equality has never been louder. Bringing together various elements of House, Soul, Disco, R&B and Afrobeats, SAULT have crafted a powerful statement through the pure majesty of their diverse sound. This is a thought-provoking and engaging album that will have you dancing one minute, then contemplating the state of the world around you the next.

Although it would be easy to say they have the benefit of collaborator and last year’s winner Michael Kiwanuka being on the judging panel, I think the real reason this SAULT album seems the most likely candidate is because it makes for essential listening that also perfectly fits with the Mercury Prize ethos. It is a musical collective still in their infancy, making important music that takes inspiration from a vast array of genres, as well as the current social and political climate around them.

Having listened to this record several times now, it is no surprise that many music outlets had this as their Album of the Year for 2020, and I would not be surprised at all to see the Mercury Prize give it that same accolade come September - if music really can change the world, then SAULT are leading the way.