#disclaimer: i know nothing about tennis

[gabugabs]

"ball's round, anything goes."

my mc from @collegetennisoriginstory !

[formulaonedirection]

Hi Nadia💗 how are you?

Tennis fan here, so obviously I got curious after your last posts. Are you following the Australian Open? Who's your favourite among the players left?

I'm so sad I can't watch them (I'm either sleeping or in school when they play), but I'm constantly checking the results. I must say it's taken a pretty unexpected turn

Hi Benny <33 I used to watch tennis religiously in my teens like my first ever tennis crush was Andy Roddick (shout out to whoever was there in that era) LOL and I was telling someone the other day that I used to have an Andy Murray picture I cut out from the Sports section of the news paper on my high school binder so I'm really rooting for the old man here however improbable! But there's a few youngins I don't mind like Auger-Aliassime, Tsitsipas, Medvedev to name a few! It's probably Djokovic's to lose which is boring but it's the one slam that's really aligned to my time schedule so I'll probably watch a bit more!

[formulauno98]

Yacht Girl Summer - Chapter One / Thursday- George Russell x Reader, Toto Wolff x Reader

It's Summer and you've been dating George Russell, golden boy of the Mercedes Formula One Team, for the last year. Outwardly it looks like the perfect relationship, travelling the world hand-in-hand with your rich and famous other half but lately you've started to feel like an accessory to his success.

When you're invited aboard his boss' yacht for the week, you start to get to know the man who so often is the object of your boyfriend's affection, enigmatic Team Principal, Toto Wolff. Steely at first, as you get to know him, you start to see why your boyfriend is so enamoured.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Nothing spicy yet. This is going to be a slow burn and if you're uncomfortable with the idea of two-timing don't read this.

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction. No use of Y/N and minimal descriptions because I want everyone/anyone to be able to enjoy this.

THURSDAY MORNING

As you packed the last of your vacation outfits into your weekend bag you sighed, thinking about how you were going to survive this week. You’d been dating your boyfriend for almost a year and things had started well but lately, you felt something was off. 

For all intents and purposes, he was a catch. Good on paper as some people would say. He was a Formula One driver and a talented one at that, he was smart, he was funny (even though sometimes he didn’t mean to be) and he was kind. It also didn’t hurt that he was tall, easy on the eye and allergic to wearing a shirt ninety percent of the time.

Yes, George Russell was outwardly the perfect boyfriend. Just not the one for you. In your heart of hearts, you knew that he just wasn’t the one and it wasn’t fair to keep stringing him along. His work took precedence and you found yourself constantly making awkward small talk with random people during events, his focus entirely on his career. 

To begin with, life as a Formula One partner had been exciting, a glamorous world previously closed off to you now opened. You’d accompany George to races here and there, cheering him on from the garage, living the highs and lows and trying to support him as much as you could. Then there were tennis matches, charity galas, fashion shows, and even glossy film premieres and he always needed a date. 

He was quick to include you in his busy life but after a year of being treated like arm candy, playing second fiddle to George, the novelty had worn thin. You were no more than an accessory. Old men leered at you, girls were jealous and the mechanics thought you were some kind of bimbo gold-digger. It was decidedly less fun than it looked and you knew you owed it to yourself to put a stop to it.

It was difficult as George had not done anything wrong, he just sometimes forgot that you were a person and took your support for granted. You’d voiced your feelings but they were only ever met with empty promises. Even your Summer plans had been hijacked by his work as he’d cancelled the trip to South Africa that you’d booked in favour of accompanying his boss on his yacht for a week. 

You’d had numerous arguments about his overly close relationship with his boss, the mildly terrifying Mercedes Team Principal, Toto Wolff. You hadn’t spent much time with the man but George practically lived in his pocket. He even stayed at his house when they worked at the factory in the UK. It was strange, to say the least, and you’d had to learn to live with the unusual dynamic between the pair of them, awkwardly saying hello to the intimidating Austrian when you were in the garage but never quite breaking through his cool demeanour.

George on the other hand, loved his boss and was constantly “Toto says this,” “Toto recommends that.” So when he’d invited him onto his yacht for the Summer, he hadn’t hesitated to drop all other plans. Even if that meant you not getting to go on the safari you’d meticulously planned.

Casting your mind back to how the conversation had gone, you were still annoyed about it.

“It’s just for a week.” George had pleaded, “And it’s good for my career to be close to Toto. I owe him everything.”

You rolled your eyes, having heard this spiel before. “Why don’t you just ask him to formally adopt you and be done with it?”

George huffed, “That wasn’t funny before and it’s not funny now. Please, just do this for me, and we can go to South Africa another time. He’s never invited us before, if we say no, who knows how long it will be if we get another invite, if ever.”

Feeling slightly guilty, you replied, “Sorry, I know that was a little mean. Look, I was just looking forward to the safari.”

“I know,” said George, his bright eyes softening as he wrapped his arms around you, “But I promise you, we’ll go soon. And besides, Toto’s yacht will be nice, you can snorkel, you can paddleboard, you’ll love it.”

Smiling slightly, you knew you wouldn’t be going to South Africa any time soon, George’s schedule was too full on. And that’s why you knew you needed to end things soon. He hadn’t done anything wrong but you had lost yourself in George’s calendar. 

Swallowing your thoughts, you knew that he’d already said yes on your behalf so it was too late to back out, “I guess, and like you said, it’s only a week.”

“There’s my girl.” George kissed you lightly on the cheek, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

Having successfully packed, you and George had been driven down to the marina to board the yacht. You felt a little nervous as you walked beside George towards the imposing vessel you’d be spending the week on. It was one of the larger boats docked and you could already see various members of staff milling about on deck. 

You didn’t know Toto very well beyond saying hello and you weren’t sure what to expect outside of racing. He always seemed very serious and calculating, and still reeling from his acrimonious divorce, not the most fun person to holiday with. You knew that a few of George’s colleagues and their wives and girlfriends would be there too so you hoped that they at least might be somewhat entertaining.

Stepping off of the passarelle and onto the boat behind George, he suddenly dropped your luggage and started waving manically as he spotted his formidable boss standing on the sundeck above.

“Hi Toto!” he called out.

“Welcome!” Toto called out, disappearing momentarily before reappearing at the bottom of the stairs in front of you. He was dressed casually but smartly in head-to-toe navy with dark sunglasses.

“How are you both?” he said kindly, stretching out to George for a warm embrace before holding his arms out to you.

Half hugging him awkwardly, you replied, “Very well thank you, thank you again for the invite, we’ve been excited all week.”

Thrilled that you were buttering up his boss, George chimed in, “Yes, we’ve been counting down the days.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Toto, smiling contently, “The others arrived a short while ago so are at the front. Perhaps Livia can show you to your cabin and then you can come and join us for a drink?”

He gestured at a young blonde stewardess who had discreetly appeared from inside, ready to show you to your quarters.

“Thanks, Toto.” said George, clapping his boss on the shoulder enthusiastically before following Livia, “We’ll be right back.”

Taken aback that George had followed Livia without remembering to pick up your two weekend bags you shook your head as you were left struggling to pick them up and follow. Typical George.

“Here, let me help.” a deep, accented voice offered. Turning around, you were surprised to see Toto standing there, his arm outstretched.

“Oh…” you said blushing and tripping over your words, “It’s okay, honestly. I think George was overexcited to see his room.”

Toto smiled, taking the two bags from you despite your protests, lifting them effortlessly, “That’s our George.”

Smiling reluctantly, you agreed as you followed Toto inside, “Indeed.” 

At least his boss seemed like a gentleman.

THURSDAY EVENING

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pastel pink, dinner that evening was set against an idyllic backdrop. You and George being the last to arrive, all guests were now on board and the yacht had finally set sail for your week-long jaunt into the Mediterranean.

The crew had prepared a cosy dinner on the deck, complete with twinkling fairy lights and a long table set for seven. Toto was sat at the head of the table, yourself and James, the Mercedes Technical Director either side of him.

On your other side was James’ wife, Cara, and across from you diagonally was the Communications Director’s wife, Marion. Making up the other end of the table was George and the Communications Director himself, John, who were chatting animatedly and ignoring everyone else.

As the two other couples knew each other well, James, Cara and Marion were equally engrossed in conversation with Toto, leaving you awkwardly eating in silence, trying your best to not give in to the pang of loneliness you felt.

As the dinner progressed, you couldn’t help but notice how isolated you felt. The laughter and chatter of the others a stark contrast to your internal turmoil. You tried to engage in small talk with the people around you, but your thoughts kept drifting back to your problems with George. 

This was yet another evening you’d spent surrounded by people yet isolated because you didn’t fit in. You were a side character in George’s life, there when it was convenient and discarded when someone more important was around.

Not one to miss a trick, Toto noticed your distraction. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice gentle yet concerned.

You forced a smile. "Yes, just feeling a little seasick." You weren’t proud of the lie but figured it might be the best way forward to get out of this agonising dinner.

His eyes crinkled with concern, he nodded, understandingly. "Sometimes it takes a while to get used to being at sea. Would you like to go up to the sun deck? The air is fresher, it might help."

Grateful for the offer and the opportunity to escape, you nodded. "That sounds nice, thank you."

Excusing yourself from the table you made your way to the stairs up to the sun deck. You glanced back at George, not surprised to see he was yet to clock your departure from the table. More surprising, however, was the fact that Toto had gotten up to follow you. You hadn’t expected him to accompany you and were slightly taken aback as the tall Austrian followed you up the stairs.

Dreading yet more awkward small talk, you wandered to the front of the sun deck, where the moonlight was pooling on the pristine white sun loungers. You leaned against the railing, taking in the tranquil scene.

"This is beautiful," you said softly, more to yourself than to Toto who had slotted himself a few feet to your right.

"It is," Toto agreed. "It’s one of the reasons I love being out here. It’s a good place to think, to clear your mind."

You turned to him, genuinely curious. "Do you come out here often?"

He smiled, a distant look in his eyes. "Whenever I can. It helps me balance the chaos of work."

You nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I can see why. It’s so peaceful and you were right, the air does feel fresher."

Toto nodded and for a moment, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, just listening to the sounds of the sea. 

Suddenly feeling somewhat awkward that you were standing gazing in the moonlight with your boyfriend’s boss, you chanced striking up more of a conversation. You were somewhat intrigued as to why George was so enamoured with the Team Principal and you had to seize the opportunity as quickly as it came.

“Thank you for everything you do for George,” you said, hoping to sound genuine.

Toto looked somewhat surprised and a little amused at your words, “It’s no trouble, he’s a good boy.”

Laughing at Toto calling George a boy, you pushed a little further, “I mean it. I honestly do.”

“I know.” said Toto, his gaze intense as he turned to you, “How are you feeling?”

“A little better actually,” you lied, “It’s also more stable up here, downstairs I felt like I was swishing around.”

“Swishing around?” Toto asked, quirking an eyebrow, “I don’t think I’ve heard it called that.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, not sure what he was getting at.

“Look, I could see you were not feeling comfortable at dinner.” he said, somewhat bluntly, “I see you when you are in the garage too. You always look ready to bolt. Are you not a fan of racing?”

Taken aback by his astute judgment and surprised that he'd noticed, you felt defensive and mumbled quietly  “It’s not that.”

Toto looked unconvinced, “I get it, you’re shy.”

“A little,” you confessed, “It’s a lot sometimes.”

Toto’s face softened, his brown eyes warm as he looked at you, “I understand. It’s not easy. You get used to it though.”

Thinking about the fact that you probably wouldn’t need to if you went through with your break-up plan, you just nodded, pretending that you agreed with his wisdom, “I hope so.”

“You will.” he said kindly, “So George tells me you like to travel a lot?”

“I do,” you said, surprised that he was now being chatty, “But not so much to the races, I like to escape in nature, it’s good for the soul.”

A smirk flickered on Toto’s lips, “I agree. If you’d like we can go exploring tomorrow. There are some coves around here we can stop at.”

“For real?” you asked, even more surprised that he was willing to bend his itinerary for you, someone he barely knew.

“For real,” he said succinctly. “And if the others don’t like it, they can stay on the boat and sunbathe.”

Laughing, you smiled at him, “Sounds like a plan.”

“I’m glad I can make you smile.” he said, his face serious, “You looked sad down there.”

Not sure how to reply, you looked down at your feet, choosing your words carefully before looking back up at Toto  “I’m just seasick. That’s all.”

Thoroughly unconvinced, Toto quirked an eyebrow, “Tomorrow you will feel better. I promise. Shall we go back to dinner? I’m sure George will be missing you.”

“I’m not sure about that.” you said quietly, causing Toto to raise his eyebrow once more, “He’ll be chatting away to John, I bet.”

“How much?” asked Toto as you both made your way towards the stairs.

“Two euros,” you said jokingly.

“It’s a bet,” replied Toto, holding out his hand to shake with all the seriousness that he would when making a business deal.

“Deal,” you said, taking his large hand in yours, grinning as you met the laughing Austrian’s eyes.

Sure enough, as you made your way back down the stairs towards the table, George was still chatting away to John, barely pausing for breath, let alone noticing the two of you taking back to your seats.

“How would you like to pay?” you asked Toto cheekily, as you both sat down, “I can accept cash, cheque or credit card”

“What’s Toto paying you for?” asked James, stopping mid-conversation, his interest suddenly piqued.

“We made a bet.” said Toto, clasping his hands under his chin, “It’s a secret though.”

James looked slightly sceptical, turning to you for more information, “Care to elaborate?”

“Deals have to be discrete.” you said, fighting the urge to laugh as Toto’s eyes sparkled at you, “Toto will be the first one to tell you that.”

Slightly tipsy, James laughed, not pressing further and returning to his animated discussion with the two older women. Glancing down at the other end of the table, George had barely looked up and once more you felt a pang of disappointment. He was clueless sometimes.

– – –

As dinner came to a close, Toto announced the plan for the next day. 

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll be exploring some of the coves around here. It will be an early start but should be fun. Who’s interested?”

George and John immediately expressed their interest, nodding eagerly. “Count us in!” George said, his enthusiasm reminding you of a child on a school trip.

James, Cara and Marion were less enthused about the early start and politely declined, deciding instead to stay on the boat, soaking in the sun.

Toto turned to you with a gentle smile. “How about you?”

You nodded, feeling genuinely excited for the first time in a while. “I’d love to.”

– – –

Having sussed out tomorrow’s plan and the seven am start, you bid your gracious host and fellow guests goodnight and you and George finally made your way to your shared quarters. The silence between you was palpable, each step echoing your unspoken thoughts.

Once inside the cabin, George broke the silence. “What were you doing going off with Toto?” he asked a hint of accusation in his tone.

You sighed, sitting down on the bed “I felt seasick and needed some fresh air so Toto suggested the sun deck. That’s all.”

George’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You could have told me.”

“I could have,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But you were busy with John and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

At this, George’s expression softened just a fraction and he settled down beside you. “Okay. I just... I don’t know… Let me know next time. I don’t want you feeling seasick and me not being there to help.”

You smiled sadly, knowing that for all of his faults, his heart was in the right place, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He nodded, wrapping his arm around you, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you said, leaning into him, feeling somewhat guilty that you had ignored him in favour of his boss.

“What were you talking about though?” he asked suddenly.

“We were talking about you and then this and that.” you said, before adding, “He’s actually quite nice. I get it now.”

At that, George looked a little put out but dropped the subject quickly, getting up to get ready for bed. As he busied himself unpacking his pyjamas, you couldn’t help but think of Toto, he was nicer than you’d given him credit for.

For the first time in a long while, you felt like someone had considered you as a person and not as George’s plus one. It was a good feeling to ponder as you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the adventure that awaited you tomorrow.

Part Two

[accio-victuuri]

time to make lemonades again 🍋🍋

inspired by a previous post i made because something similar happened and here we are. i think that the negative take on these similarities is that the other person/brand is “copying” the other. or one is trying to rub off the popularity of xx. which is a common source of conflict between fans, not just xz’s or wyb’s. and since the topic is trending we have more information of these alleged brand traitors who feed the cpf machine. lol.

this post made by jeanswest with the kadian 10:05 for xz even if their endorser is wyb. tho i went to their weibo and didn’t see this post all when i was trying to confirm. so maybe it was deleted? the next one is hilarious cause they are implying that JW is taking inspiration from xz for their designs like the little prince and tennis. even if the whole line yibo is endorsing have nothing to do with these styles. AHHHH! they are so much better in connecting things that have no relation at all. 😂

and it’s so embarrassing how confident they are that this is copying. xz does not own TLP or the sport of Tennis. no matter how much they associate those things with him. atleast with cpfs, we can give disclaimers but solos being so sure that there is just no other way that an international brand can come up with these designs — other than them wanting to leech from xz is next level unhinged.

but still thanks for the candy i guess?

next up is, p1 a li-ning cap that has 85 on it. but it’s actually a back to the future themed drop. a film that was released in 1985. tho maybe they are angry cause li-ning is a repeat offender. p2 is opening of li-ning’s store and the lottery includes a chance to win a casio watch which wyb was endorsing at the time.

for xz’s zwiling endorsement before, one of the things highlighted by the brand is this machine. idk what. but it said something about brewing coffee at 97 and tea at 85. lol and who are associated with those numbers? wyb!!!! hahahahahahaha!!!!

sometimes i wonder who is the real candy lovin cpf.

moving on….

p1 is by kaixiaozao brand, they posted about a product that has dandan noodles that will make you think of the ancient times. dandan being something that is nicknamed for wyb, and ancient times pertaining to lwj and wyb. p2 is absurd, they are so angry at mengniu cause they replied to a cpf. yes it was xposted on the supertopic, but the account was asking a genuine question of how to purchase. so they answered. as much as so/os want the loyalty of these brands, their main goal is money. they will follow the money. that means more people buying their products. they didn’t choose xx or xxx out of the goodness of their hearts, their teams do research on who to hire and who can bring in more 💰.

another problematic thing done by mengniu before ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

#strawberrymilkbobocup# I know this question! Strawberry and milk go together. It’s the most amazing combination. Let me tell you secretly, add some oats and the taste will be amazing. Someone: I want a strawberry custard cup, but not strawberry. No custard, just...

bobo cup 👀

and what that someone said. they don’t want the strawberry nor the custard/milk. so what does that leave us? Bobo 🤯🤯🤯

this post by i don’t know who that said for roborock, there are a lot of consumers, both peter pan and passion fruit. no lies tho. we do contribute to their sales. it has been that way for a very long time. all these talk of cpfs only love xx or xxx is brainless so/o agenda. they just don’t understand the fact that we can support both and we’ve been doing so for years now. they cannot comprehend it, so they twist it into a narrative that fits them.

lastly, p1 is by bubly and on the can has 85. p2 is zhenguoli and on the poster, they used lwj’s famous tagline ( i wanna take someone back… yep, the same one he said in ttxs )

i’m even seeing one shared the fact that xz allegedly rented a car that has 805 on the license plate. so he must be promoting cp right? 😂😂😂 idk.. maybe it caught his eye because of his boyfriend and didn’t think people will take photos of his car and license plate to speculate on. and their hateful interpretation of what we would say is CPN:

1. The license plate number chosen when renting a car is Wang Yibo’s birthday “805”

2. The name of the shoes worn has Wang Yibo’s abbreviation “Web” ( this refers to gucci re-web )

3. The photo XZ posted on that day ( when he was in Milan and only took photos of his shoes ) imitated Wang Yibo’s photo from last year’s GQ Gala.

Summary: If there is only a single factor, it can be explained as coincidence together, but so many "coincidences" gathered on the same day, it must be "intentional"! XZ has been using this method for the past 5 years … Hype male-male CP in a “both subtle and obvious” way!

I don’t usually post anti or solo rhetoric here unless it’s amusing and this is an example of that. lol. so they do believe those things are connected? that it’s too much of a coincidence???? it’s just that their conclusion is way off compared to a cpf’s. 🤣🤣🤣

that’s all i have for now. i skipped the others, and surprisingly a good number is how angry they are at li ning’s skateboard series. lol.

-END.

[fablesrose]

Ch 9 - The Top Hat Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: The team has to play as magicians to get into a food company that has contaminated food on the shelves. *Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about magic, so don't come for me*

Words: 5377

A/n: So I've burned through my stock of chapters after this and I've been having a bit of a tough time for the next couple of weeks. I've got final weeks and then surgery to fix my wrecked knee, I want to get back to this as soon as possible, but I'm not sure when that will be. Thank you all for reading this far, it means so much to me!

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

While Nate and Sophie were downstairs in the pub meeting with the client. I was watching as Eliot, Hardison, and Parker were starting recon on the target: Lillian foods. From what brief background we already had, their frozen food was contaminated, but one of the higher-ups calculated the risk and said that the amount of deaths was acceptable relative to cost in lawsuits vs pulling the food off the shelves. So, a real dirtbag, like all the rest of them. 

Hardison and I were in Nate’s apartment monitoring all of the tech stuff while Eliot and Parker were doing the leg work. Eliot was posing as a pizza delivery man with comms and a button cam, going into the heart of the beast. We watched as he approached the front desk where a pretty brunette sat taking phone calls. 

“Her name is Katie,” Hardison told him as he balanced a tennis ball on his forehead casually, “Likes wild horses, dislikes vanilla toothpaste.”

“Please stop talking,” Eliot responded. 

I laughed a bit, “The fact you can find those things is wild.”

“Hey,” Eliot greeted the receptionist, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “How ya doin’?”

She didn’t respond to him, only lifting a finger signaling for him to wait a moment. 

He turned away from her in a way that I could visualize him leaning against the counter. “Oh, I’m so in,” he said a bit cockily.

My smile soured a bit, remembering just how much of an eye for pretty chicks Eliot had.

“Hey Eliot, what’s that blocking your button cam?” Hardison asked him. I furrowed my brow, as while it was a bit warped because of how small it was, it wasn’t too bad. That was until Hardison finished his thought, “Oh yeah, it’s your ego!”

That made me smile a bit again before moving it along, “Parker? Whatcha got?”

“First ten floors are free climbing heaven, but after that, it's a slip and slide,” she responded easily before a random person started to vaguely harass her, saying she had pretty hair. 

“Uh, Parker, maybe don’t stay next to that person.”

I didn’t get a response from her as Nate and Sophie walked in bickering.

“When was the last time you had a date?” Sophie asked him which caught my attention. “A real date… with food?”

“Stop,” Nate responded before his attention turned to us, “Hardison…”

“I don’t think that counts,” Sophie commented before turning to me to answer her question.

I only shook my head to indicate that it had been a long time. 

“Are you running recon on Lillian Foods?” he asked us. 

“Uh, yeah?” Hardison responded for the both of us. 

“Don’t you think you should consult with me first?”

“Did he just…?”

“We do this all the time, Nate,” Sophie defended. 

“Hey, look man, where do you think all my intel comes from? For the last time, there is no blueprint fairy.”

“Yeah, well, I want you to pull them out. Do it now,” Nate told him as he poured himself a cup of coffee. 

“Why? What’s up?” I asked him. He seemed a bit more strict than a usual job.

“Look, we know what we’re doing, man. It’s a food company,” Hardison rebuffed. 

“No, you don’t. No. Not with a place like this. You don’t know what you’re doing,” Nate insisted. 

I watched on the screen as Eliot started to get escorted away, “Eliot?”

“Give it exactly two seconds before this becomes a train wreck.”

And just like that Eliot responded, “Hardison, we’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” He asked. 

“They’re MRI-ing my pizza and their stance says ex-CIA.” 

“You could tell somebody worked for the CIA just from how they stand?” Hardison asked before I could. 

“It’s a very distinctive stance,” he whispered back. 

I watched anxiously as a bunch of red flags and alerts popped up on Hardison’s screens. Hardison started to hack back with a vengeance to try and take back some control. I had faith in him, but the beeping and buzzing and flashing lights really didn’t make me feel better. Suddenly it took a turn for the worse where the screens said system lock out. 

“Uh, Eliot, I think you should get out of there,” I said into the comms before the power in Nate’s apartment went out. 

“Right now,” Hardison added on. 

I glanced back to where Nate was sitting at the kitchen table with his hands raised as if to say, ‘see? This is what happens.’

“I’m working on it,” Eliot responded, accompanied with the sounds of fighting. “Parker, I’m comin’ out hot.”

“Okay, all clear out here. Just me-” she started to respond before the same person from earlier’s voice came through. 

“Copy that, I think I got one out here, too.”

“Parker, did you stay next to that guy? That doesn’t sound good,” I commented, partially to her, but mostly myself. 

It sounded like Eliot got through the worst of his escape as he whispered, supposedly to the receptionist, “I’ll call ya.”

I rolled my eyes to myself, of course he would do that. 

“You know when I said you had pretty hair?” the guy next to Parker asked, “I was lying.”

I gagged, what a creep.

“Yeah, well, so was I when I said you didn’t… wait, damn it.” Parker responded before it sounded like she made her escape. 

“Hardison?” Nate asked him after a little bit. 

“Wait for it,” he said as he typed on his keyboard before the lights came back on. “See? There wasn’t no problem. I mean, I had it under control.”

He rambled on for a little bit longer, clearly flustered, as I laid my head back against the chair I was sitting in, letting out a sigh of relief that it was okay. 

Later, when Eliot and Parker were able to make it back to the apartment, we sat around the kitchen table as Nate talked to us. I was still trying to figure out if he was going to chew us out or be nice and just explain what went wrong. 

“So, pizza delivery guy was your big plan?”

“You know what man?” Hardison said, “It was recon, okay? Information gathering has historically been a very safe and peaceful business. It was a food company! Wasn’t like they were making weapons.” 

I glanced at Eliot as he shifted an ice pack he was holding to his arm. 

“Listen,” Nate said, “I’ve worked insurance for companies like this. Anyone gets their hands on the company’s food patents could cost them billions. And by the way? The guard that stuff better than defense contractors.” Nate explained. 

Hardison looked at me in disbelief, but I shook my head, “Hey, I didn’t know that.”

Parker poked at Eliot’s arm, “does that hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that explains all the ex-spooks hanging around the lobby then,” Sophie commented. 

“You know what?” Hardison said a bit aggressively, “Ya live and ya learn.”

“No. I lived, alright,” Eliot cut in, “You sat behind a computer and acted like Kool Moe Dee.”

“What’d you call me? Kool Moe Dee? Like you even know anything about Kool Moe Dee. I was gathering very crucial information.”

“Does that hurt?” Parker poked Eliot again.

“Yeah.”

“How about now?”

“Alright!” I stood from my seat and smacked my hands on the table, a little overstimulated with all the arguing, which stopped it. “Parker, please stop poking Eliot, assume that it hurts. Eliot, we are very glad you lived, and Hardison…” I sighed, the little bit of adrenaline that I had worn off already, “what crucial information did you happen to gather in this train wreck?”

“Yes,” Nate said, backing me up a bit as I slowly sat back down, “How about you share that crucial information with the rest of us.”

I glanced up at Eliot who was looking at me with a softer expression, but I looked back down at the table, my hands in my hair.

“You know what?” Hardison answered Nate, “You ain’t said nothin’ but a word.” He pulled a remote out of his pocket, starting up the screens. 

We all started to make our way to the living room to hear what Hardison had gathered.

“Hey, you heard y/n, stop it,” Eliot said to Parker after she poked him one more time. 

“Eliot, what are you doing?” Nate asked, walking around the table towards him. 

“She’s poking me,” he replied, watching as he came closer. “Don’t man…” He said, shrugging him off as Nate grabbed his hurt arm too, rubbing it in a little more. 

I chuckled, “Come on Eliot, I’ll protect you from the meanies.” I walked ahead of him and was pleasantly surprised when he sat down so I was next to his injured arm.

He tapped his knee to mine, “you better.”

I tried to fight the smile that was growing a bit too wide as Hardison began the briefing. 

“Lillian Foods is the third largest food company in the world. Last year it made 12 billion dollars,” Hardison started. “This is the vice president of the frozen food division, Erik Casten. Erik with a K, Casten with a C.”

“How is that relevant?” Nate asked. 

“Oh,” Parker answered, “Eric with a C, nice and friendly. Erik with a K, evil.”

“I mean, she has a point,” I corroborated. 

“I didn’t know that,” Sophie commented. 

“Everybody knows that,” Parker replied.

“According to Dr. Jameson,” Hardison continued, “Erik with a K is trying to cover up salmonella in the frozen dinners so his division doesn’t have to pay out for the recall.”

“That’s why I grow my own food,” Eliot said next to me.

“How do you find the time?” Sophie asked. 

“You make time. I only sleep 90 minutes a day.”

“I didn’t know that,” I whispered to him, “The growing your own food part. That’s super cool. I only have a basil plant on my window sill. But I don’t think that that little sleep is good for you.”

“The basil’s a good start,” he whispered back, not addressing my sleep comment. 

I could never tell what the next thing I was going to learn about him was. I’ve started to seriously wonder what this man couldn’t do. I already knew that failing to steal my attention was not on that seemingly shorter list. 

“So what we have to do is, we have to get a hold of Casten’s report and make it public,” Nate said. “It’s on the servers. How do we get into the building?”

“I think pizza delivery guy is off the table, for the record,” I commented, nudging my knee against Eliot’s, purposefully avoiding his gaze, but I heard him huff a laugh anyway. 

“I am so far ahead of you, man, it’s scary,” Hardison told Nate. “Look, I can’t hack their system from the outside, so I sent a Trojan phone. It’s hacker 101.”

I pulled out my phone, “Oh, if this is a course, should I be taking notes?”

“You might as well be,” Hardison answered before continuing, “What I did was messenger a smartphone with an extended battery to an employee that’s on vacation. The package sits in the mail room. It scans for wireless and bluetooth access points. Unfortunately, even their internal servers are locked down like the CIA. So all I was able to get was employee emails.”

“Oh, anything useful there?” Sophie asked. 

“Oh yeah, you know what?” Hardison sat on the edge of his seat, leaning towards her, “Marie from Payroll has a crush on Steve from Accounts Receivable.”

She and I were more invested in this gossip then we probably should have been. 

Hardison pulled up a picture of a shirtless below average guy, “Look, that’s Steve right there on his vacation in Florida from a month ago.”

“She likes him? Really?” Parker asked half-heartedly, voicing my own thoughts as well. 

“Oh yeah. That man is a sexy man-beast right there” Hardison half insisted before moving onto the next piece of gossip. “Now, Shannon and Chris from Marketing, they got a little fight going on with Lauren from Ads.”

“Office politics,” Sophie concluded, “God. It’s lucky we don’t have that.”

Eliot and I shared a look that showed we were both skeptical of that. It was just different kinds of politics. 

“Everybody’s up in there complaining about this state of the company thing tomorrow,” Hardison continued, “And Brian from IT-”

“That’s it right there,” Nate cut in, “That’s our way in.”

“Brian from IT?” Hardison asked, “No, he is not a team player.”

“No no no no no,” Nate responded, “That’s our way in… yeah. Yeah yeah. That’s it. The state of the company meeting. Here we go.”

“What is that?” Eliot asked, “I don’t know what that is.”

“Me neither,” Parker said. 

“It’s like State of the Union?” Hardison offered. 

“What is that?” Sophie asked as well.

“Nate,” I said, “You’re the only one here who’s had like a traditional corporate job. Even with me, the places I worked never did that.”

“Oh right, right,” Nate said, finally understanding, “You guys have never had real jobs.”

The rest answered in the affirmative while I gave him a pointed look. He nodded apologetically as if to say, ‘I know you did, but yeah.’

“Alright,” Nate began to explain, “so when I used to work for IYS we would do this all the time. The company, big companies, they make their employees sit for an entire day listening to these boring speeches, lame entertainment, bad food. It’s…” 

Parker huffed a sigh, “I’m so glad I don’t live in the real world.”

I nodded in agreement.

“It’s mandatory,” Nate added. “It’s the only time that all the employees are away from their desks at the same time.”

“Alright, so we go in as caterers. We download the report while everyone’s chucking back the mini quiches. Easy,” Sophie concluded. 

“No,” Hadison contradicts, “see, it’s a food company. All the catering is in house. The only outsiders involved in the whole big operation are the entertainment.”

“And who would that be?” Nate asked.

“Oh, you gonna love this… It’s a magician.”

Nate perked up, looking at me, “ah…”

I, in turn, deflated, “no…”

The now former entertainment was a magician, and from what Hardison told us, he was pretty slimy. A couple of sexual harassment charges didn’t help. It didn’t take much for Hardison and Parker to dismantle his show and get him arrested for punching Hardison in the face. 

The next day Sophie called Lillian Foods to explain the problem and give us an in to replace ‘Chronos the Magnificent.’ Nate went in first as ‘head magician’ talking to the head of security.

“Harry Turner,” he said, handing the security guard a business card. 

“The magician, I know.”

“Illusionist,” Nate corrected, “Magicians do kid’s parties. I do Fortune 500 companies.” He waved us over, “Uh, right this way gang.”

“Woah, and who are these people?” The security guard asked. 

“Oh, this is my team, I believe you spoke with my manager, this is Nell Carver,” he waved towards Sophie who was rolling in a cart of supplies before introducing the rest of us, “my illusions designer, Frank Brunner, my lovely assistant Clea, and of course my beloved apprentice Miss Birdie.” 

I fought to not roll my eyes at Nate introducing me as such, hoping we could get past security without me blowing it. 

Hardison stepped forward towards the guard, “Hey man, I hope you have a doctor in the house, because this man right here is gonna blow your mind.”

“Alright, come on, we’re on a very tight schedule,” Nate said as he started to walk forward. 

“Nothing gets in or out of this building without being scanned,” the guard said, stopping him. 

“These crates contain my illusions, my life. I’m not gonna reveal my secrets. Come on.”

“That’s not my problem, is it?”

“I’ll take care of this,” Sophie said, stopping Nate from continuing, “Mr. Markland, I’m sure we can figure something out. It’s not possible-”

“Let’s pull up the van, Frank, and let's get out of here,” Nate said. 

“Harry, are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Then an older man walked up to the commotion we were making, “what is going on here?”

“Mr. Price, sir, this is…” the guard started.

Nate turned and introduced himself with a business card, “Harry Turner, illusionist extraordinaire, you are Mr. Price, CEO of this company?”

“I am, what’s going on here?”

“I would like very much, sir, to give your people a wonderful show, but your doorman here would like to look at our boxes of illusions and destroy the illusion.”

I bit my lip to try not to laugh at the obvious manipulation that Nate was pulling, particularly with the context of us being magicians. I never would have dreamed of us being in a situation like this.

“Markland, just lighten up, will ya?” the CEO asked. “It’s a magic show for Pete’s sake.”

Nate repeated him as he followed Mr. Price and led us through security into the building. 

Once we were on stage Nate said, “Okay, we’re clear, let him out.”

Harison opened the giant upright box to let Eliot out. He was dressed in his black stealth related outfit with a beanie on his head that I liked a little too much. He held a classic white rabbit and hat in his arms and carefully stepped around a bird cage at his feet when getting out. 

“It’s a good job you’re not claustrophobic Eliot.” Sophie commented. 

“I was when I was a kid,” Eliot said, shoving the rabbit into Nate’s hands, “take this damn thing.”

“Really? How’d you get over it?” Parker asked while taking the rabbit as Nate handed it to her.

“I locked myself in a woodshed behind my house for a couple nights. After that I was fine.”

I looked at him in disbelief, pausing my task of unpacking the bird cage and checking on the birds inside, “That is the worst form of exposure therapy I have ever heard of… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“That is so funny,” Parker said, “I was scared of the dark and did the exact same thing.” She then relayed a story of how her friends buried her alive in a wood chest when she was a kid.

“That is not the same thing,” Eliot responded. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I take it back Eliot, Parker’s is worse.” There were moments like this where I questioned where my life path has taken me to get to the point where my friends are these people. Then I remember that it is my own damn fault for willingly following Nate’s hard left turn in life. I shrugged to myself before continuing to prepare.

“So, you’re actually enjoying this,” Sophie said to Nate. 

“You know, being a magician, it’s the next best thing to being a con artist, you know? It’s all about misdirection and control.”

“So no one actually told you that you can’t control life. You see, this is why you’re not in a relationship.”

“No, Sophie, I’m just very focused on my work right now. You know, I was out of control before. Now I’m in control, it's a good thing.”

Hardison turned to me, “You do not seem very pleased about this, but you are kinda confident right now, so I’m confused.”

I glanced at him as I kept unpacking stuff, “Uh, yeah, because when I was in middle school, Nate and I went through a magic phase where we worked together and learned a lot of this stuff. We got pretty good at it, not gonna lie…” I then pointedly said, “Though I don’t understand why I have to go by Miss Birdie like I did when I was like 12 and Nate can’t go by Monsieur Kitty!”

“Do you hear yourself right now, y/n?” Nate asked.

“Yes, and I can be petty when I want to be, you’re using my childhood nickname against me.”

“So you know how to do all this magic stuff?” Eliot asked.

“Absolutely,” Nate answered, “Positively, yeah. It’s all about the rabbit. You know having… by the way, where’s the rabbit,” he asked, turning around before shrugging it off. “Hardison, let’s go over the plan.”

We all gathered around Hardison as he started to outline the plan. As he did so, I couldn’t help but notice how my heart was beating faster than it should be. I knew I was nervous about this, the stage, performance, how much the team was relying on this distraction, and every little thing that had to go right, but I maybe didn’t realize how much until we were here and I took the moment to stop.

“Okay, the show opens with our friend Erik Casten delivering the state of the company speech,” Hardison said. “The speech is scheduled to last an hour, giving myself, Eliot, and Parker enough time to go down to the server room, hack the servers, download the report, and get back downstairs.”

“So, massively there will be no magic show,” Sophie said. 

This helped calm my nerves a little bit, but something in my gut told me something was going to go wrong.

“Oh no, there might be a magic show. Absolutely,” Nate said which counteracted Sophie’s statement and its effects. “We might want to treat these people to the illusionist extraordinaire!”

Eliot and Nate laughed a bit as Nate bowed to the empty auditorium. I tried to laugh with them, but all that came out was a shaky breath. To counteract this, I turned my attention back to the props, including the birds, and pantomimed the motions of making them appear and disappear. I vaguely heard Sophie say something about Nate getting a girlfriend, but I was too focused on practicing the few tricks that I remembered. 

My gut turned out to be right, unfortunately. Instead of giving an hour long speech, Erik Casten’s speech was barely five, keeping it ‘short and sweet.’

“...and let’s give a warm welcome to… Harry Turner, illusionist extraordinaire,” Erik finished. 

“Shit,” I said, mostly to myself. 

“That’s you,” Sophie realized. “Hey, you’re on.”

“Parker, I need my assistant,” Nate said into the comms, as the other three were somewhere in the building going to hack the servers. 

“How come Parker gets to be the assistant?” she asked. 

“How come Nate gets to be the magician?” Hardison asked. “I do card tricks too. I do great card tricks.”

The rest of them were bickering over comms, asking about doing each other's jobs, while the stage was sitting empty. I eventually shoved past Sophie and Nate to get on stage, ignoring the nerves and my rapidly beating heart. I approached the center of the stage and looked at the crowd of people sitting in the previously empty auditorium.

“Hello Lillian Foods!” I said, trying to decide if the waver in my voice was noticeable to anyone else. “As you might suspect, I don’t quite fit the name ‘Harry Turner.’”

To my relief, the crowd laughed a bit which drowned out the bickering still going on in my ear. 

“To everyone’s relief, as well as my own, that is not my name. I am Harry’s apprentice. You may call me Miss Birdie.” The thought of changing my stage name crossed my mind, but I thought it was easier this way. As some people in the crowd said hi to me, using the name, it made me smile. “I think I am on the same page as most of you when expecting a big long speech from your vice-president. And while you may all have been relieved…” 

The crowd cheered and laughed as they could see where this was going. 

“My mentor was not as prepared as he should have been to be on stage this soon, that is where I come in. I’m sure any interns in the audience know the feeling.”

That got a particularly large roar from the crowd. I glanced off stage where Nate and Sophie were arguing still, though not as much as before. Nate gave a pointed eyeroll and shrug at me which encouraged me to continue. 

“I must apologize as I am a little more familiar with close up magic, so let me know if you can’t see anything and I’ll try to make it work. Do you see what is in my hand?” I raised my hand to show some quarters pinched between my fingers. 

The crowd responded in the affirmative before I continued. I did some subtle disappearing tricks before making them reappear with the exception of one. 

“Hmm, it seems I lost a quarter somewhere… Any ideas?”

The crowd booed a bit with the skeptics yelling out where the quarter could be. ‘In your hand! In your pocket!’ etc etc. 

“In my pocket?” I asked, I pulled out my pockets inside out and a few coins came out. “There's some coins, but they look like pennies to me, how about my coat pockets?” I took my blazer jacket off and shook it upside down. A comically large amount of pennies fell out of it. “I need some help examining all these coins… Is there a Dave Bickle in the audience today?”

There was some cheering in one corner as he stood up. 

“Dave, do you mind coming up here and helping me?” He started to walk over before I added, “Bring your coffee, I know you can’t live without it.” 

The crowd chuckled as he came up, coffee in hand. I asked him if he saw my missing quarter anywhere in the spread coins, which he said no. When he wasn’t paying attention, I was able to slip the ‘missing’ quarter in his coffee mug. I was glad it was a mug rather than a covered cup or tumbler, which made it easier. I made sure there was no splash and that it was out of sight for most of the audience. 

“Well, I guess I’m too good at making things disappear, but not great at making them come back… You know something about that, especially with coffee, huh, Dave?” I knew I was milking this bit, but Mr. Price didn’t give us much to work with for crowd work. When Dave laughed and took a sip of his coffee he came out with the quarter in his mouth. I held up my handkerchief to take it back from him, “Oh! You found it, thanks, that’s my bus money for later!”

The crowd laughed and gave a little applause as Dave went back to his seat. I glanced over to Nate to see Parker had joined him and Sophie backstage. I took this as an okay for me to finish up since they seemed a bit more prepared now. 

I quickly introduced Nate as Harry Turner and had him come on stage for his performance. He graciously brought me a broom to sweep up all of my pennies so they wouldn’t interfere later.

“That was really good, y/n! You have all the skills of a pickpocket with sleight of hand, why didn’t you mention it earlier?” Sophie congratulated me once I got off stage. 

“I have blocked out those memories up until yesterday and to be completely honest, I can only half hear you over the blood pumping in my ears right now, how is everything else going?” I kind of laughed to myself, I couldn’t believe I had done that. As I picked up the coins from the floor I could see that my hands were still shaking. 

“That’s natural after being in front of a lot of people, we’ll get you trained up as a grifter and thief in no time!”

I smiled at her sentiment, but didn’t encourage it. As I slowly calmed down I could hear that things were not going great upstairs; Erik had the same idea as we did: accessing the server room while everyone was downstairs. Except he was deleting the files we were trying to access. 

Hardison and Eliot were able to make it up to a higher level to gain access to the computers but they needed higher clearance authorization to gain access. Nate was able to gain Mr. Price’s fingerprints by simulating a trick on stage, but then Hardison said we needed him for retina scanners as well. Nate caused Mr. Price to ‘disappear’ in a magic box by switching it out for an empty one. Sophie and I pushed the box Mr. Price was in to the elevator and shipped him up to Eliot and Hardison. 

It wasn’t long after Sophie and I returned to the backstage that Hardison gave an ‘uh oh’ in addition to the fact that Erik had deleted all of the files before he could get to them.

“Uh oh? What do you mean uh oh?” Eliot asked.

I heard a security guard demand that he get out of the elevator.

“Oh. That uh oh.”

Sophie and I looked at each other in worry and returned to the elevator as we heard Eliot beat up some guards. 

The elevator opened and Eliot stepped out over the guards, “Show’s over. We’re blown.”

“Nate, bring down the curtain,” Sophie said. 

“We’ve got to go!” I added. 

The three of us made our escape and listened for the others to do so. We all made it out with the exception of Hardison who had been caught in the locked junction room where he accessed the servers. They had brought Hardison out of the building to try and find the rest of us when Parker swiped Erik’s phone. 

Nate proceeded to call one of the guards and talk to Erik on his own cell phone and blackmail him into removing the frozen food line that was contaminated off the shelves. He did so by planting the company’s patents on Erik’s phone. The client was there to stick the final nail in the coffin by informing Mr. Price and getting Erik fired.

When we rendezvoused at Nate’s apartment, the rest of us were unwinding and eating dinner while Nate continued to research clients… Working. 

Sophie voiced her concern about him.

Eliot shrugged her off saying that he’s fine. The fact that we pulled this one off proof that he’s at the top of his game. 

“Well that’s the problem. He keeps winning.” Sophie said, “And everytime he wins he believes a little bit more that he can control… life.”

“It’s what gets him through the day,” he replied. 

“What happens when he loses? The last time he lost, it broke him. He breaks again… I don’t think even we can pick up the pieces.”

I didn’t know what to say to that since I thought she might be right. Instead, I stood and moved to the fridge behind Eliot to see if there was anything there that tickled my fancy. Eliot followed me with his box of takeout, leaning against the counter beside me. 

“Do you want some of this Kung Pao?”

I looked at it for a second before grabbing some chopsticks off the counter and grabbing a bite.

“So, you really know some of that magic stuff, huh? I heard it over comms, the crowd was digging it,” Eliot said between bites.

I laughed, “Yeah, a little bit.” I took another bite before saying, “I didn’t get to do my signature trick though.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, “show me.”

I thought about it for a second before obliging him. I moved to tuck some hair behind his ear, a slight misdirection. He watched me closely, eyebrow raising slightly at my movement. When my hand was slightly out of his sight, I flipped my wrist and released the dove that was sleeping comfortably in my sleeve. It made a louder rustling noise than I had anticipated, but he didn’t even flinch. I pulled my hand back so I could show him the bird sitting on my finger.

He smiled as he looked at it. He then looked between me and Nate, “birdie.”

I nodded, “Birdie, but he’s the only one that can call me that.”

He laughed and stroked the bird, “That’s alright. I’ll stick to sweetheart.”

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @isoldeahlstrom @kniselle @technikerin23

[kisha-myers]

This fanfic is a fem-reader. Sorry for the confusion and not specifying I'm a noob when it comes to this 🥲

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DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CALL OF DUTY NOR ITS CHARACTERS/OPERATORS

TW: Abuse, alcoholism, depictions of DV, and Kidnapping- they're vague and brief for the most part but if you're someone who struggles with that kind of thing then PLEASE do not read.

Chapter Four: Johnny Johnny - Yes Lieutenant?

You weren't entirely sure how long it had taken to get onto base, you were too lost in your thoughts to really be concerned about it. Your mind was a cacophony of erratic thoughts, a haphazardly blended mess of the harsh reality you currently resided in. You were so out of it you didn't even question how they got you onto base without your identification card. In this moment you were trying to fight within yourself, to keep yourself calm no matter how viciously your heart thundered in your chest. That little voice in the back of your mind that some likened to a conscious took no time in listing all the horrendous possibilities that could be in store for you. You'd seen the news articles about women being murdered by unhinged military men - you weren't unaware for the most part of what others were capable of.

Perhaps your anxiousness had started in your early years, from the persistent drilling into your head by your own father about staying vigilant and prepared. He had certainly done his best to paint gruesome pictures into your skull of the very many things men, in particular, were able to do to someone of your stature. It only got worse as you got older and went through puberty.

In the back of your ambiguous memory vault you recalled the first time a boy had ever come to your door to ask you to one of your schools dances. Roy Martin, a boy you had spent countless hours with in the library studying together during free period - you liked him enough that you were willing to accept his request, excited even, until your father showed up from work. You still remember the way his eyes narrowed in suspicion, his military training to read a person's body language kicking into overdrive as he scanned Roy from head to toe. You'd be lying to yourself if you said he wasn't scared - Roy had practically pissed himself at the barrage of question your father fired off at him.

'When is the dance? How long does it last? Will it be adequately lit? Are there chaperones? What's the dress code? What are your intentions with my daughter?' You found it embarrassing at the time, having your ex-military father bombard your classmate like that over something you'd found so simple, benign even. Your father of course, thought otherwise. He'd sat you down at the dinner table, the polished oak covered in printouts of victims of domestic violence, assaults, even kidnappings. The pictures you recalled, unsettled you so much you ended up throwing up. Hours he had you spend at the table, examine each picture with a fine tooth comb as he detailed what had happened.

'Men are pigs sweetheart. They'll use and abuse you until you have nothing left to give them. It's why I've decided to put you in martial arts. No more tennis - starting tomorrow you'll be spending a your time at the dojo learning to protect yourself.' That revelation had made you so angry you launched yourself from the table so hard and fast your chair toppled over, the hard Crack of the wood against the laminate floor echoing through the room.

'What!?' You cried out, utter disbelief evident in both your tone and twisted facial features. You shook your head fervently, refusing to believe that he could do this to you - tennis had been your coping method for quite some time now, and to think he'd be so cruel as to rip that from your grasp over a boy... well it was enough to send you over the deep end. That was the first time you had ever spat the words 'I hate you' to him, effectively silence any and all responses he had ready to give you. The hurt that had crashed through his eyes had your heart shattering into multiple pieces, but you were too angry at the time to really care. That was also the same night you learned that your father was a raging alcoholic, suffering from ptsd that the VA refused to help him get treatment for.

The yelling, you recollected, had been terrifying. Your mother had come home later that evening, tired from her twelve hour shift at the local hospital, to find your father passed out in a pool of his own vomit in the kitchen. A bottle of Hennessey Whiskey still grasped in his hand. The argument ensued once she had shaken him awake, berating him for being so careless; What would you have done had you discovered him in that state? Worse yet, what would your little sisters have done? Needless to say that that night you didn't get much sleep - you were far too wound up from such intense emotions you couldn't process thoroughly yet on your own to calm your mind long enough to relax.

Your mind continued to spiral, bringing up memories you'd long since forgotten - funny what the mind was capable of doing to your own psyche. Your fingertips returned to their caressing of the fabric seats as the humvee crawled to a stop, using your sense of touch as a way to distract yourself from your always wandering mind. The fabric, you decided, was almost the equivalent in texture to the fur of a raccoon. Not too soft but not too rough - a strangely functional texture that both made you relax and feel uncomfortable. A conundrum, you mused, as you let the pads of your finger tips migrate lower. The feel of chilled though smooth pleather both confused and intrigued you, sparking your curiosity - you weren't sure why though, it was common for vehicles to have both per seat.

Perhaps it was because you had assumed consistency with the fabrication of the vehicle in which the manufacturers would simply have the fabric continuous to its base. It had made sense to you in the moment, however now that you let your mind drift down this path, you surmised it would be better to have a material much easier to clean should the need ever arise. You could imagine the gruesome things this particular piece of heavy machinery had seen, but you refused to dwell on it lest your mind conjure up nameless faces of lives lost whilst inside its steel framed interior.

You inner turmoil was cut short, graciously so as the humvee finally came to a full stop. Painful LED lights illuminated the helipad you'd arrived at - why they had stopped here you'd never know, nor did you particularly want to. You simply wanted rest - at least you'd hope that your mind would calm enough to allow you some moments of solace. You predicted that it wouldn't be so, but the hope remained regardless. König glanced back at you as Ghost clambered steadily from the vehicle, slamming the door with enough force it rocked slightly. He released an noise from the back of his throat that you assumed was done from being unamused by such an calloused act of masculinity. Whether intentional or not, it left you wondering just how strong the man was to be able to make such a large and seemingly immovable object such as this move like that.

You pushed those thoughts aside for now, opting to put a pin in it and return to the subject when you had at least a few hours of sleep under your metaphorical belt. Your eyes peaked up through your lashes at König, watching as he scanned the area seemingly leisurely. You figured this was the way they operated out in the field too - one of them being in the fray of things whilst the other remained out of the way, a lookout of sorts - perhaps a sniper considering he wore the hood of one. You could picture him as one, holding the rifle in his rather impressively large and languid hands, perched high up in a tower or even a hill, shrouded in foliage.

You weren't privy to know the details of what Johnny did as a member of his task force, all you knew was that the team itself was incredibly important and many foreign governments relied on them. Johnny was a naturally bubbly person though he had a way of being serious that sent a shiver of unease down your spine. You'd seen him flip that switch several times, and each time it was scarier than the last. That was the way of a soldier, you concluded, being able to flip that switch to turn off needless emotions. It wouldn't make much sense to have a bubbly killing machine frolicking through the daisies on his way to annihilate the enemy.

You suppressed a giggle from the image you'd conjured up of Johnny clad in his tactical gear skipping merrily through a meadow of wild flowers, laughing his obnoxiously loud laugh gunning town hostiles. You pressed your lips together, nibbling on them with your teeth slightly, wanting to keep the smile from your face - how were you to be cross with the very man you were just daydreaming about platonically when you couldn't keep a straight face?

A hand on your thigh brought you out of your humorous daze, your eyes narrowing in slight offense at the gloved skeletal hand touching bar skin. Slowly you moved your gaze to meet Ghost's hazel ones, raising a brow slightly in question - you had been so far out of it you hadn't even heard your door being opened nor the way he had cleared his throat twice.

"Captain wants a word with you before Johnny takes you to the barracks. Won't be long, he's straightforward enough to get his point across." You simply gave him a curt nod in response, carefully wrapping your fingers around his impressively thick wrist, and removing his hand from your thigh. The fabric of his gloves, you noted, was softer than you'd assumed - the material reminding you subtly of fleece or maybe it was velvet? You wondered, for a moment, if there was a specific purpose for this - was it easier to clean? Did he have poor circulation? Did his hands get easily cold? You didn't know, and you weren't brave enough to ask him outright. Perhaps you could pester Johnny about it later - if he didn't have to be apart of this meeting though you naturally assumed he would be.

Ghost carefully stepped back, removing his wrist from your grasp far gentler than you could have ever imagined the brute could manage. He rested his left forearm amongst the top edge of edge of door, his right gloved hand being shoved into his pocket as he nodded his head to the right - you took this as an indication he wanted you to exit and go off towards on of the brightly lit pop up buildings just left of the massive landing pad.

You climbed out of the vehicle far less graceful that he did, stumbling slightly once your bare feet made contact with the rough asphalt. A chill ran up your body, feet immediately going cold from the frigid touch of wind that blew against your bared skin. You hadn't realized your slippers had slip off your feet whilst you were in the throws of a minor anxiety attack,, something you were sure you'd be irritated over later when you were alone in the barracks. A shiver left your body trembling for a moment, goosebumps rousing across your flesh like domino's being tipped over. You were definitely berating yourself for not dressing warmer though you knew it wasn't exactly fair to do so - how were you to know that your complex would suddenly burst into flames due to an imbecile? Ah well, there wasn't anything you could do about it now - you were already here in the now, you might as well make the most of it.

Quickly your feet carried you to the building Ghost had indicated to you from behind, calling out what number in particular would be on the building and subsequently, which office to go to. You were familiar with this section however, Johnny had taken you here during his half-assed tour of base to meet his Captain - it had amused you at the time, now? Not so much. You hadn't the foggiest idea as to why Captain Price would want to speak with you - hopefully you weren't unintentionally in trouble, you couldn't handle a scolding from a man you equated to a father figure even though you weren't one of his subordinates.

Your bare feet slapped against the foux marble floor, your eyes downcast like a petulant child preparing for the worst scolding of their lives. Your face remained somber, though your teeth worried your bottom lip every so often. The closer you got to his office, the more your stomach wishes to reject its contents in its entirety. Yes, you decided, you would definitely start taking your medication the moment you got to return to your apartment.

Ghost watched her walk away, his eyes lingering slightly on the way her hips swayed - he liked it, more than he'd care to ever admit out loud. He closed the door to the humvee, shoving both hands into his pockets as he did a 180 turn, leaning his back against the very door he had just closed. König climbed out of the vehicle, going over to Ghost and mimicking his stance though opting to cross his arms across his chest.

"She's anxious - about what your Captain wants to speak with her about." He observed, his glacial eyes returning to the very door you had just disappeared through. Ghost merely grunted in agreement, his eyes scanning through every face hunting for the obnoxious sergeant he so badly wanted to strangle. He may be crass and curt, incredibly blunt and hostile most of the time, but even he knew to never stand a woman up. He wasn't a ladies man - he didn't do callouse one night stands often, nor did he exactly date - König and his relationship being the exception to all of his rules due to him being an active member of KorTac and understanding what this line of work consisted of.

Johnny on the other hand was the absolute definition of a man whore. If it walked, talked and showed an interest in him, he bedded it -truly it shocked him on how (at least he assumed) that Johnny hadn't slept with you. You were a stunning creation, a skittish little masterpiece of the best kind - the Mona Lisa to his Leonardo da Vinci. The more he contemplated reasons as to why Johnny wouldn't have wanted to bed you, the more confused and, albeit annoyed he got. His silent brooding was interrupted by a fist bumping into his shoulder, an indignant grunt passing from between his lips as he glanced up.

There Johnny was, in all his detestable glory, sending a wink off to a curvy brunette with disheveled hair. Of course he had been getting his rocks off - it'd fully explain why he was late to meeting them here.

"Lt, König, where's the lass gone? Scared her off, eh?" His Scottish brogue breaking through the tense silence, his happy-go-lucky unbothered tone sending both masked men into a boiling fury.

"You and I need to have a word, Johnny, about how a gentleman treats a lady." Ghost replied, his voice dropping a full octave and sending a wave of dread through the Scot. He simply nodded, effectively gulping before following along behind his superior, shooting a 'save me please' look towards König who simple gave back a wave.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish, was certainly about to learn a valuable lesson, one Ghost and König both knew he'd never forget.

Tag List

@lianyanhongcheng

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[amysterywrappedinanenigma]

Ranking (bullying) LD Curtain's season 2 fashion choices

Because even if the show seems to have forgiven him, I sure haven’t. 

DISCLAIMER: This is in NO WAY criticizing the costume designers of this show- it couldn’t be farther from that. They’ve done an amazing job with every single piece in the show, and all of these fit Curtain’s personality and aesthetic perfectly. This is just me mocking the in-universe fashion choices that the character makes, because he needs to be bullied more. All lighthearted, all in good fun.

Disclaimer #2: I know literally nothing about fashion, please don’t attack me. 

Okay, from least heinous to most heinous, here we go! 

First up:

As much as it pains me to admit this. I actually. Really like this one. (”And if you told me I would never say something like that, well, I would never say something like that, but here we are.”) I think the silhouette is interesting, and all of the pieces come together well. Plus, in some of the tighter shots you can see that the fabric texture and detailing is really cool:

The leaves as clasps and that crinkly texture kind of really slap, and I really love the way the collar sort of wraps into the placket.

8 / 10

Interview outfit:

Wow, look! Another one that doesn't inspire immediate feelings of rage! We're doing so well.

This one isn't as visually interesting as the first outfit, but I do sort of like it. The collar folds create kind of a cool shape, and the grey accents under the top is a nice little contrast. I don't know how I feel about the zipper right below the collar, it's kind of a weird choice and might look better if it wasn't so visible, but I'll let it slide for this one since we have a much more heinous zipper situation coming up later.

I like the contrasting shades of blue with the button up shirt, and the lavender shirt he wears under it later in the episode, and the fact that part of the collar can kind of fold down to make a different shape.

6 / 10

Clown sleeves:

So the sleeves on this one are. kind of a lot. But they gain a couple of points for being the only thing in this outfit that really pops. They're sort of weird, but I can see the appeal of them standing out against the black vest, and being a pretty nice contrast that draws the eye.

5 / 10

Meh:

Time for the part of the post where I include 6 outfits that I just kind of don't have strong opinions on, mainly because they feel like pretty standard, decent outfits with no real reason to bat an eye at them.

The last image is saved on my computer as "are those your pajamas?" but. acceptable.

sure / 10

Dancy dance:

🧍‍♂️

I don't have much to say about this one other than, for some reason, the visual of him wearing tennis shoes makes me viscerally uncomfortable.

🤡 / 10

Elizabeth Holmes Chic:

He looks like a kid playing dress-up in their dad's giant overcoat, except someone let him go outside looking like this. I know oversized clothing items can be fashionable but here he's like drowning in it.

And then when he takes the coat off:

This maybe wouldn’t be a terrible outfit, it’s just so goddamn pretentious. He seems like he's trying to look like Steve Jobs, but ended up looking more like Elizabeth Holmes.

about to start another pyramid scheme / 10

Vacation dad (derogatory):

On someone else I might like this outfit, but on him it just looks so dumb. He looks like he's about to go skydiving with how much he's buttoned up. Better watch out or he could get carried away and spend 20 minutes unstrapping and unbuttoning it to reveal his fun little vacation shirt underneath! It's somehow stupidly formal and stupidly casual at the same time, and I just think it's a very silly little outfit. He's joining the army as penance for his fashion crimes. If you ask very very nicely he might tell you what's in his four huge, weirdly-placed pockets.

what's in the pockets / 10

And now.

We've arrived. We're finally here. The last one. The moment we've all been waiting for.

The worst of the worst:

I'll be honest, I don't really know where to start this one. There are too many things to choose from. Do I start with the weird asymmetrical pattern on the sleeves, with the red and blue stripes that aren't even made up of the same type of pattern?

Or maybe the fact that the buttons (and the piece of fabric they're attached to) ends too high above the neckline of the top layer?

Or we could talk about the fact that the top layer looks like one of those smocks you'd wear to get an x-ray at the dentist, made in a fabric that must have been rescued from the back of a fabric store after 50 years of not being bought.

I think by far the worst part is the length:

The fact that those strange little smock flaps go almost a foot past the zipper, halfway down to his knees. It swallows like 2/3rds of his body in this horrible block of grey fabric, and this man has the audacity to carry himself like it’s fashionable, instead of an assault on the senses. 

I want to set it on fire. I want to burn him along with it. I want to gently take his tailor aside and ask if Curtain held him at knife point and made him design this monstrosity. TEAR IT TO PIECES, GET IT OUT OF MY SIGHT, TURN IT INTO SCRAPS FOR SQ'S ART PROJECTS.

Anyway.

This outfit is such a menace to this world that I thought everyone should get a chance to tear it to shreds, so presenting, the communal roast:

“GROSS. SHUN.” -@mvshortcut

"prison chic. dentist x-ray chic. ugly." -@mysteriouseggsbenedict 

“the terrible zip up vest that just keeps on going fucked a potato sack” -@bi-demon-ium

“runway model for the most pretentious fashion designer who ever lived” - @sqenthusiast

“Trying to be casual but also Better Than You. The definition of 'you really thought you did something there'” -@echo-delta

“Child with one of those books where you can draw clothes over top the shape of a person” -@mysteriouseggsbenedict 

“Mr Curtain sir I don’t feel very happy looking at this. I think it’s a little counterproductive.” -@mvshortcut

Truly horrendous.

borrowing constance's acid to destroy the outfit and then clean the eyes of anyone who wants to forget they saw this monstrosity / 10

Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me, and as always, send the x-ray bib to hell.

[shipcestuous]

(disclaimer: I think this belongs here and not shipcestuous 2, because it discusses an alternative version of the story with biological siblings and also you have a hashtag for the couple here) I was listening to the Criterion collection directors commentary of The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) by Wes Anderson. (Can be found on the Internet Archive https://archive.org/details/the-royal-tenenbaums-2001-commentary-by-wes-anderson) I think you briefly mentioned this film on your wordpress several few years ago, but as for the incest portion the story features a brother (Richie) and his adoptive sister (Margot). Richies love for Margot is made clear pretty much from the beginning, is very intense, and practically defines his entire life (for instance ending his Tennis career in a mental breakdown after Margot marries another man). Margots marriage at the beginning of the film is already passionless and failing and she frequently betrays her husband with other people (but not Richie so far). When Richie finds out about the affairs he is so jealous and additionally dismayed at his beloved sister having a secret life he knew nothing about, that he attempts (and luckily fails) suicide. This leads to a scene in which Richie and Margot confess their love for each other and kiss. The film is left pretty open ended as to whether or not a relationship blooms between them (would love to know your interpretation), but it's one of the few incestuous couples in media that end up alive, in love, and with the potential for a relationship in the future. And at approximately 1:20:00 of the directors commentary, while commenting on the kiss scene Wes Anderson mentions that Richie and Margot were originally supposed to be biological brother and sister but that he ended up making Margot adopted due to the other things this change would add to her character. He also says that he was drawn to the topic of incest due to being inspired by the film Les Enfants Terribles, because he found the taboo interesting, and because a classmate/friend of his was in love with his sister in fourth grade (he sounds very neutral and nonjudgemental while relaying this). I think he's right that the adoption added something to Margot and especialy her feeling of being left out, but the original even more incestuous version of the story would have been certainly interesting. Either way I think this film is really good from a shipping standpoint and as a piece of art as a whole.

I have all of my Margot/Richie stuff on @shipcestuous-two, so I'll reblog it over there eventually to keep everything together. (It looks like one post slipped through the cracks.)

I need to rewatch this movie or at least their scenes, it has been a really long time and it's so shippable and sweet and sad. I would need to rewatch in order to give my opinion about the ending. But they're still in love at the end and that's the most important thing. There's definitely always still hope when it ends like that, I think.

That's really interesting stuff about how close they came to being biological siblings and his inspirations. Thanks for sharing.

[swag696942069]

What sport should I make Barty play in my TATBILB AU?

Disclaimers, I know nothing about sports. Nor will I attempt to learn anything about sports.

Also, it barley matters cause I'm only going to mention it in passing. I'm not gonna go into any details.

It is a non magic AU.

And also the sport can't be hockey, or tennis. Do men play tennis? I think so. But I've only ever heard of woman tennis players.

See how uneducated I am?

Also please don't get too excited about this fic, it'll probably never be finished and therefore never be published.

But for the time being while I'm hyper fixated on it.

Give me some suggestions!

[vynegar]

Voice Actor Interview – Zhao Lu: Artem is a straight line

this is an interview with artem's s-cn voice actor from july 2020, when the game first came out (almost three years ago!!). happy birthday artem!

my usual translation disclaimers apply. please note there are also some edits for clarity. do not repost without explicit permission.

check my masterlist for more translations.

[as Artem]: "This is both your decision, and mine. So I will take full responsibility for it."

Hello everyone, I'm Zhao Lu. "Zhao" like in "Zhao Lu", "Lu" like in "Zhao Lu". I voice the elite lawyer Artem Wing in "Tears of Themis".

[T/N: Because each syllable can be written many different ways, in a self-introduction Chinese people will often specify the characters in their name by using common words or phrases as a reference. Zhao Lu just uses his own name as a reference which obviously clarifies nothing, so it's a joke.]

(0:29) Q1: Can you tell us your own impression of the character?

The great lawyer Artem, he's... See, so many of the characters I voice are similar to me. I'm kidding. Don't laugh!

When it comes to Artem, everyone’s first impression of him may be that he's cold, aloof, even a bit harsh or unreasonable. Of course, the premise is that he's a very kind, very upright, even a very straightforward male character. But as everyone gradually tries out the game, during that process they'll discover that he's actually quite approachable and easy to get along with. I also think he's a very – not warm, not gentle or mild either, but I think he's a very careful person.

First of all, because he's a lawyer, he inherently has a very meticulous, very careful form of logic and thought process. In addition, he’s very careful when doing things, including when interacting with others. Exactly how he's careful is something I know, but everyone else might have to gradually open up his careful side through playing the game. Later on, as everyone gets to know Artem better, they may even think he has a bit of gap moe. Everyone knows him as such an outstanding and elite lawyer, such a perfect character, that it's surprising to see that he has no experience when it comes to love. So I think that aspect is pretty interesting.

Besides that, his sports were also pretty unexpected to me. I feel like people with this kind of image usually play squash. Among my friends who are lawyers, there are a lot of them who play squash, or tennis. But I didn't expect Mr. Wing's favorite sport to be an Olympic event that started in the 1900 Olympics, Olympic trap, and he's apparently pretty good. He also spends some free time fishing. Ah, I'm so jealous of his life.

[T/N: Double Trap is the specific kind of shooting that Artem competed in during Focus Fire SR, and it has an entry in the Big Data Lab.]

(2:29) Q2: When playing the character, what do you think is the most charming part about Artem?

I think the most charming part about him has to be how straightforward he is. How he deals with things, including how meticulous he is with cases, his impeccable attention to detail... Basically, I think he's a straight line. In every aspect, whether in life or work or even emotionally, he's a straight line. He doesn't have times where he deviates like this [Zhao Lu moves his hand side-to-side]. The only time when he might deviate a little would have to be when the MC is involved. That's right, those things might make him consider and waver a bit in his judgement. That's being driven by his emotions after all, that's for sure.

(3:14) Q3: How are you and Artem most similar? And most different?

He's an upright, mature, steady person... we're no different. Who says that we're different! [laughs] Even I'm embarrassed [about that joke]. I think, how should I say this, I think my personality also has a relatively steady part to it. Yes, so when I voice Artem, I think that part fits. But I'm nowhere near as strict as Mr. Wing. I'm not saying that I'm mischievous, just that I'm not as strict. You could say that I'm more flexible, and Artem, as we said, is a straight line. I think his logical analyses, his judgements and viewpoints, including his ideologies, are all very firm, yes. But of course he also knows when to make adjustments, he's not unchangeable.

(4:06) Q4: Mr. Zhao, how did you feel when singing "Husband and Wife Returning Home"?

When singing "Husband and Wife Returning Home", I felt... very... joyful. Don't laugh. Right. I think that singing in the game, including performing things like rhymes or Chinese opera, is good experience for the actor. But the requirements for Artem were… Well, he's a rather straightforward person. His personality isn't completely open, which we've all seen in his and Celestine’s day-to-day talks. When you put him in a public setting like this and make him sing, you have to show him going from kind of resistant at first, to gradually accepting reality. It was a bit challenging to play this process of gradually cheering up and loosening up, but I still felt pretty happy. If possible, I'd like to say to the writers, "Don't write me any more opera songs to sing. Thank you."

(5:13) Q5: In one sentence, promote “Tears of Themis”!

I think "Tears of Themis" has great gameplay, including many details about investigation or finding clues, that is worth exploring. To be honest, through the process of solving each case, including the final moment of conclusion, people might think, "Wow, this is different from what I expected." It can even reveal certain social phenomena or comment on some general knowledge. I don't think it's just a game, I think some details and aspects of it can be really moving for the players. So I really recommend that everyone try this game.

Choose Artem. Marius, Vyn [Zhao Lu shakes his head, waves hand in dismissal, says quietly], don't choose them.

[T/N: Zhao Lu's (continued) description that "Artem is a straight line" is a well-known meme in Chinese fandom. Everyone (including other cast) knows to expect him to bring it up when describing Artem's personality, it was one of the most common nicknames that fans gave Artem in their (in-game) phone, and it even was referenced in his Revisiting Youth invitation.]

[redwineconversation]

Danielle van de Donk Le Progrès Article (December 9, 2022)

Blah blah standard disclaimers apply. You've heard this speech before.

Some interesting stuff, some stuff we already knew. The cool thing about Le Progres is they always respect lines in the sand.

Van de Donk: "There is an atmosphere of only winning at Lyon"

Back on the field six months after her severe leg injury, Danielle van de Donk is looking forward to playing the biggest games at the end of 2022, between the Champions League and this duel in the league against PSG. Her early days in football, her closeness to her family, her positivity, her mentality on all levels which works well with Olympique Lyonnais ... The 31-year-old Dutch midfield confides herself [in us].

How long have you been playing football?

Actually, it's quite funny because my mother was bringing me to swimming lessons on her bike when I was young. I was sitting behind her in the child's seat, and I could see everyone playing football when we went in front of the local club, that made me want to do it. I remember asking her: can I also play football? I was 3 years old. So she went to find out, and they told her that she could sign me up as soon as I was four. I started playing at that age. What we were doing didn't exactly look like football but I liked it. I was also playing tennis, equestrian ... but it was always football for me. I was always in the street, playing football with the boys.

When did you know you could make this a career?

It's really weird but in the Netherlands, there's a tradition. When you are really young and you're celebrating your birthday, everyone is singing for you and then you hold yourself straight [up] on a chair and answer the question "what do you want to do later?" As soon as I was 5, I said that I wanted to a professional football player. It made everyone laugh because it didn't seem realistic, but for me, I always believed. When I was 16, when I stopped playing with the boys and shifted to the girls and the national team showed interest in me, I said to myself: "this is it, football is taking me somewhere, this is what will determine my life." When we won the Euros with the Netherlands in 2017, that, it became something huge.

Antonin de Fonseca, who followed you during your rehab last season, said that you were calm and confident, that nothing phased you. Can you confirm?

My parents always told me: "if you don't believe in yourself, no one will do it for you," that's how I was brought up and how I grew up. But I'm not as confident as Antonin thinks. Certain things can get to me like not being a starter in a game. It's hard to digest but at the same time, it motives me to train even harder and not start on the bench in the next game. I try to transform my frustration into something positive. I don't go see the coach and ask them: "why didn't you start me?", I'm not going to blame anyone but myself. You always have to work [hard]. If you only have talent, that's not enough.

You seem full of life, do those close to you see you the same way?

Yeah, I think they would say I am smiley and spontaneous. I'm a happy person. I can't complain, I have a really nice life and I am doing what I love: play football. I'm very aware of that. I have my family at home, my other family at the club. We have the same objectives, we laugh a lot, it's nice.

How did you handle your serious leg injury last year?

It's weird because no one had gotten that kind of injury at the elite level before me. At the start, the surgeon said I would be out for four months, maybe six. At the end, it was seven months. It was nice being at the club during the rehab. The girls came to see me, were supporting me, "come on, Da[a]n, let's go." It wasn't anything huge, an encouraging word here and there, but it motivated me to give everything and be back with them on the field as fast as possible. I try to do the same thing with the current injured players. The hardest thing was to live through was the last month, because there were big clashes like the final of the Champions League. I wanted to be a part of it and play but it was too soon. And I needed to be ready for the Euros.

You were seriously injured in the knee when you were 16 (ACL), this injury to that leg wasn't the first.

Yeah, the fact of having already experienced that helped me. The knee injury made me appreciate football even more. You have to work hard to get back to your level: it's long, it's complicated, but at the end, you come back even better.

It's been six months since you've been back on the field. How do you feel? Is there any fear?

No, I don't have any fear or apprehension, which is a good thing. After a long injury, you usually go through a long period where your performances are up and down. I have to accept there will some really good games as well as less good from me. Sometimes, I overthink. I need to gain some more confidence so everything becomes natural, automatic again. I am someone who likes to attack, dribble ... When I look at my last games, I realize I don't do it as much. I need to find that again because I'm good in that area and I know I could bring something special to the team because of it. I have to give myself a bit of time, but I think that in January I will be back to my previous level.

What do you think about the team's beginning of the season? And yours, on a personal level?

I think I started the season pretty well, I was scoring [3 goals in 3 league games], I was implicated in the game, I felt good. Then players got injuries, we didn't have a lot of capable players [I appreciate Jaurena getting dragged so consistently] so it was a little complicated, there were a lot of changes in the team from one game to the next so it was hard to have any cohesion in our style of play. It's a question of feeling, of intuition that you develop: when I was playing as a 10, I know what each forward will do if I go here or there. There it was complicated because the connections weren't there anymore. But we're getting things back on track, good players are back, we're finding some consistency again.

Is the confidence back in the group after the last games?

Lyon is a team with an enormous amount of confidence. Even if there were games where we weren't at our best, we know that it will pass and we will be back to winning. It's a [core] principle, I felt it as soon as I started here. There's pressure but it is a good pressure. There is a winning atmosphere here, it's really something special and specific to Lyon, I have never known that in another club.

There wasn't any panic then after that heavy defeat against Arsenal in the Champions League (5-1)?

No, we are in the group phase so we knew we would play them again and that there would be other games to catch up. You need to be able to look in the mirror, ask questions of yourself, but nothing [good] comes from panicking.

Do you find it more complicated to win this year?

Each match is difficult because the gap is becoming more narrow. In the league, Paris [Saint-Germain] is like us in terms of results and has difficulty scoring that many goals. In the Champions League, Arsenal, Wolfsburg are better and better. [I think she's wrong in the entirety of her assessment: Arsenal is not better but simply played a good game against an extremely weakened Lyon; Wolfsburg's history speaks for itself] It's good for women's football. But beyond that, we play a lot of games. The calendar is packed, if you play for the National Team on top of your league, the Champions League, the Cup with your club ... It's a lot and it explains why it is so complicated. [Note: I think this is a super important point that some fans think affects their club but actually only affects top teams. But that's it's own blog post for another day]

What do you think about PSG?

I'm always excited to play the big games. Just like the matches in the Champions League, the clashes against PSG are part of those. They're matches full of passion for the supporters, [there's] the competition for top place... We want to show off, to play and to win.

It's a good memory for you, [playing against] PSG?

Yeah, I scored the second [goal] in the home game last season [6-1 win on November 14, 2021). We played really well that day. It was the first time I played against PSG. Two weeks earlier, the players said to me: "Da[a]n, are you ready? Because it's PSG, you're going to have to fight!"

You also scored against Paris during the Trophée des Championnes this summer (1-0 on August 28)

Yeah, that's true. Maybe they're a team that works out for me, I hope so in any case (laughter).

What makes the difference in those sorts of clashes?

If everything is clear, if everyone knows exactly what they have to do and we make those efforts together, there will be the right energy. No one player can allow themselves to let themselves go. The team which will be the most together and the best technically will win.

Do you think Lyon is stronger or weaker this year?

Mentally, we're very strong. The standards are so high here, and there's such a winning culture... For these types of games, I know that the leaders will elevate their level of play so I'm really confident.

Is it easier to play against a team like Paris, rather than a team with a low block?

It's always complicated to play against teams who park the bus, especially when we don't score quickly. Our opponents gain confidence, and us, we become nervous because it isn't working. Against PSG, it's easier to play because they also want to play and show what they are capable of. They're not going to spend their time defending, but adapt to their style of play. Which will create more space, and will allow to make more runs.

How would you analyze the attacking difficulties of the team?

There are always high expectations from Lyon, especially taking into account their standing [in history]. It's expected that we score lots of goals. When that doesn't happen, there is immediately more pressure put on the players, and the fear of missing can set in. We work a lot on it in training. But during the course of the past few weeks, I've noticed a real improvement.

Was it a turning point against Zurich, in the away game (3-0 on November 24?)

I think so. Up until then, we were aware that we weren't up to our level. We hit rock bottom against Arsenal, it was so beneath our standards.. No one wanted to live through a game like that again. From that point on, everyone tried to rebuild as a team.

Is it uncomfortable to play Paris before two big Champions League games?

No because they have the same problem as we do. Our calendar is packed, but I prefer those types of games to [our] practices (laughter).

Three things to know about "Da[a]n"

Favorite Aunt: I grew up in Valkenswaard, a town south of Eindhoven, next to the Belgian border. It's like a village, everyone knows each other. My whole family lives there. I have an older sister who has two children, they mean everything to me. I pretend they are mine (laughter). I shower them with gifts, I miss them a lot. My father had a ton of jobs, he worked in distribution, as a car salesman... My mother for a long time worked two jobs. Currently, she works in a hospital, she helps patients with their diet according to their food allergies.

Artist during her down time: When I'm not playing football, I like to go shopping (laughter). On a more serious note, I love drawing. I could do it for hours and not notice time pass. My friends often ask me to draw something for them for a tattoo. Most of them actually get my drawing as a tattoo so they can't be that ugly (laughter).

Dedicated in French. I have lessons twice a week, with a club and with a special instructor on the side. I like studying French, learning the words. I know a lot now. I can understand French, but reading is more difficult ... with all the accents, it's hard. (laughter) It's a big challenge, because I never studied French at school so I had to start from zero.

[neege]

I've been watching more Olympics that I missed last week, and here are some events I think each marauder would compete in: (disclaimer, I know NOTHING about sports and I barely know things about hp, this is based on vibes and vibes alone!)

Remus: I truthfully don't see him as being very athletic, BUT if he were to be an Olympic athlete, I could see him being a long distance runner. I see him succeeding in events that require high levels of endurance. Maybe cycling as well?? Unsure, he's kinda tricky to me!

James: Team sports!! Rugby!! Football!! Things that require a lot of coordination and strength/speed!! Water Polo!! Maybe even basketball!! (Now I'm just naming all the team sports I can think of lol) He posts funny videos with his teammates, no matter what event he's in!

Peter: Like Remus, I think he wouldn't be the most athletic person, but I could see him competing in archery or shooting!

Sirius: I think Sirius as a tennis player makes so much sense... Competing on your own, technical skill, endurance, strategy, it's all there. I also don't know if this is purely vibes, but I think he'd do well in diving, or even gymnastics! Great displays of strength and training, and I think a sport with a great attention to detail would be something that draws Sirius in. I could see him hyper fixating on every little mistake until his routines (???) are nearly flawless. I also think he would be relatively famous even among all the Olympians, but that's just a fun little side thought.

Let me know what you think!!!

[caitimetravels]

she’s insignificant

chapter 2: welcome home

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of drugs and alcohol, poor parenting

masterlist

“number eight! this is serious! if you do not train properly you will not be allowed to join your siblings on missions.”

“number eight! that’s not how you behave!”

“no, number eight! how many times must you do this before you get it right?”

“no! not like that, number eight! you must be quicker, smarter, stronger! you’ll be a liability”

“no! again, number eight!” 

“number eight!”

“number eight!”

she wished it was stop. the yelling. the shouting. the insults. the pain. the training. all of it. her head hurt. she could feel the anger swirling around, growing. control. she needed control. relax.

she took a deep breath. again. again. she pushed herself over and over until she collapsed. she worked herself to the bone only to always be left with disapproving stares. the scowl. the glare. and then she was alone, forced to pick up the broken pieces and put herself together. she didn’t have her other siblings. their family dynamic wasn’t much of a family dynamic but just once she wished one of them could be there. even just to see what she was going through. it hurt that she was alone. she hated alone.

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

“um..” luther slowly stood, unsure. “i guess we should get this started” he looked around at his siblings sitting in parlour. they all sat separately with klaus making drinks at the bar in the back.

“are we having a family meeting?” y/n stepped into the room, confused. she paused as realisation crossed over their faces. “..you forgot me”

“sorry, y/n, we didn’t mean-” allison started, trying to defend them. y/n shook her head.

“no, no, don’t apologise. it’s okay.. let’s just get this over with” she waved off any concern, taking a seat beside vanya. in her lap sat a familiar book. 

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

“you’ll be okay” ben spoke softly, gently bandaging y/n’s arm. he gave her a small smile. the pair sat in the back of the library, secluded and separate. the others were too wrapped up in themselves to care. 

vanya stepped over a moment later. she frowned at the tears on y/n’s cheeks. taking a seat beside her she offered them the cookies she had stolen from the kitchen. they weren’t meant to have any until dessert but ben and vanya found this much more important. y/n sniffled, taking the cookie in her good arm. 

“thanks v” she gave a watery smile, eating a big bite of the cookie to stop the sobs about to escape her mouth. ben and vanya shared a frown over her head. 

“should we read something?” ben offered, pulling a random book off the shelf behind him. y/n merely nodded, she needed this to calm down her raging emotions. these two were the only two who understood. if her emotions went haywire so would her powers. 

“hm, little women? i didn’t think dad would have this” ben smiled at the cover. 

“pogo got it for me” y/n murmured softly, listening to her brother’s soothing voice as he read. she smiled, they were always able to calm her down.

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

“so, i figured we could have some sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown, say a few words” luther started again, “just at dad’s favourite spot”

“dad had a favourite spot?” allison asked, confused. 

“yeah, you know. under the oak tree” luther nodded, eyebrows furrowing. “we used to sit out there all the time.. did none of you ever do that?”

“will there be refreshments? tea, scones” klaus interrupted, walking to join them with a cigarette between his fingers and a glass of alcohol in his other hand. “cucumber sandwiches are always a winner” he waltzed over beside y/n who smiled at his laid-back attitude.

“what? no” luther shook his head, “and put that out, you know dad didn’t allow smoking in here” 

“is that my skirt?” allison questioned, looking down at klaus’ attire.

“what?” he mumbled distracted. he put his glass down before turning around. “oh, yeah, this. i found it in your room. it’s a little dated but its very breathy on the.. bits” he gestured.

“listen up” luther put on his leader voice, commanding as usual. “there’s still some things we need to discuss, alright?”

“like what?” diego snapped, obviously sick of this.

“like the way he died” 

“and here we go” diego rolled his eyes and luther glared at him.

“i don’t understand.. i thought they said it was a heart attack?” vanya spoke up, confused. klaus plopped down onto the couch now, wrapping his arm around y/n.

“what? he had a heart attack?” y/n’s eyebrows furrowed, she hadn’t been told that. they all looked at her, surprised.

“you didn’t know?” allison asked softly,

“no? you did?” 

“that’s only according to the coroner” luther chipped in, still pushing his theory.

“well, wouldn’t they know?” vanya raised an eyebrow.

“theoretically”

“theoretically?” allison asked.

“look, i’m just saying at the very least something happened. the last time that i talked to dad he sounded strange” 

“oh, tell us please” klaus gurgled through his drink, not at all serious. y/n would have laughed if she didn’t see the real reason luther was bringing this up. he thought one of them did it.

“strange how?” allison continued to push, incredulous. 

“he sounded on edge, told me i should be careful who to trust” luther frantically tried to convince them.

“luther” diego sighed, standing “he was a paranoid, bitter old man. he was starting to lose what was left of his marbles”

“no” he quickly shook his head, turning to him. “he must have known something was going to happen. look” he looked over at klaus. “i know you don’t like to do it but i need you to talk to dad”

klaus rolled around, disagreeing, “i can’t just call dad in the afterlife and be like dad can you stop playing tennis with hitler for a moment and take a quick call” he waved his cigarette around, sitting up and letting go of y/n.

“since when? that’s your thing”

“i’m not in the right frame of mind!”

“you’re high?” allison looked up,

“yeah, yeah!” klaus laughed, nodding his head, “i mean how are not listening to this nonsense?”

“well, sober up, this is important” klaus merely sighed, “then there’s the issue of the missing monocle” 

diego scoffed, “who’s give a shit about a stupid monocle?”

“exactly, it’s worthless” luther was only digging himself a bigger hole, “so, whoever took it i think it was personal. someone close to him, someone with a grudge”

“yes, cause that’s all we need” y/n rolled her eyes, exasperated “more grudges”

“where are you going with this?” klaus narrowed his eyes, confused.

“well, isn’t it obvious, klaus?” diego sneered up at luther, “he thinks one of us killed dad”

luther opened his mouth to deny it but nothing came out. it was true.

“and i bet your top suspect is little y/n” diego pointed a finger right at the said girl. she froze.

“what?”

“you do!” klaus sat back, shocked. 

“how could you think that?” vanya stared in disbelief.

y/n stood abruptly and everyone watched as her eyes turned black. the same way they used to when she had trouble controlling her emotions. they watched as she quickly shook her head, storming out.

“great job luther” diego mocked, “way to lead” then he begun to walk away. 

“that’s not what i’m saying” he tried to defend himself but nobody listened.

“you’re crazy man, you’re crazy.. crazy” klaus stood too, picking up his drink. vanya went to walk away, following diego.

“i’m not finished” luther attempted to stop them. 

“okay well sorry, i’m just gonna go help y/n murder mom, i’ll be right back” he commented sarcastically, walking away. 

“that’s not what i’m saying-” it was no use.

y/n curled up beside ben’s statue, book pressed against her chest. she took deep breaths, trying to regain control. her breath came out shaky as she rocked slowly. eventually she relaxed, leaning into the side of the statue. her cheek pressed against the cold concrete. with a final sigh she looked up at him. 

“hey..” she spoke softly, “i brought our book” she gave a weak chuckle, showing the statue the book she had been cradling. 

“i finished again.. should i start again?” 

diego stood in the doorway, watching her talk. he frowned, she was so sweet. it wasn’t her fault she was born with such a horrible curse. he understood why she got along so well with ben, they both hated their powers. it made training unbearable for them. she begun to read aloud, still leaning into the statue as she sat on the gravel covered floor. with a sigh he walked away, she would be okay, she just needed time. 

time didn’t heal y/n, no matter how much she wished it would. she didn’t have anybody, everybody left her. she had to get over everything all by herself. her words started to come out stuttered, her voice cracked. slowly she begun to sob, tears wetting the pages of her book. she wiped them from her face, standing up. she had to be calm.

she spared one last glance at the statue before walking away.

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

“number eight, you must always keep your emotions in check” reginald scolded, glancing up from his notebook. he scribbled something else, ignoring her watery eyes.

“b-but i can’t” she sobbed out, she was young. her siblings were allowed to show emotion why couldn’t she?

“then you are weak!” reginald snapped his book shut, raising his eyes to glare at her. the words shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did. she was never enough, she was always going to be weak. she needed to do better, to be better. to be strong. 

--

“emotions, number eight” the girl supressed her smile at the name her mother had just given her. he wouldn’t even use it. her face fell blank.

“emotions, number eight” the girl took a deep breath, no anger. nothing. you cannot feel. she closed her eyes for a moment, controlling her urge to destroy something. she opened them to see a confused diego. this wasn’t how she was meant to react, he had stolen the ring her mother had given her. she just walked away. 

“emotions, number eight” she caught ben’s eye across the table. he nodded softly. she breathed calmly, no dessert. she was weak, she didn’t deserve dessert. five frowned from beside her, looking between her and their father. something was wrong.

“emotions, number eight” reginald turned on her. she stood, hands gripping the table until her knuckles turned pale. how could he let five go? as she raised her head she heard gasps from her siblings. pogo and reginald shared a look as she glared at the latter, taking a moment to calm herself. it wasn’t working. she was struggling to keep her emotions at bay, she couldn’t supress them. “y/n..” vanya whispered as she ran from the table. she couldn’t do it. he was gone and she hadn’t stopped him.

“emotions, number eight” she couldn’t do it. not this time. she shook her head. her eyes filled with tears. she couldn’t. “number eight! emotions!” she shook her head again, all she could feel was pain. it was her fault. she let him die. her siblings must hate her. her father hates her. ben would hate her. she let him die. she watched him die. 

“number eight! your emotions!” reginald’s voice got louder and she heard herself scream. everything was crumbling. he was gone, it was her fault. “number one, do it” 

it was all.. her fault..

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

on her way to the staircase she paused. her eyes lingered on the painting. five’s painting. she felt herself move without wanting to. she stepped into the room, looking up at her brother sadly.

“i’m sorry” she frowned, “i’m so sorry, five. i shouldn’t have let you go. i should have gone after you. i’m sorry, you must be so alone and i lied. i’m sorry for lying.. i should have done better, i should have listened to dad.. i couldn’t bring you back and it’s all my fault. it’s always my fault.. i’m sorry five, i’m so sorry..” 

“sweetie?” she looked over to see grace. “who are you apologising to? did something happen to you?” the blonde robot walked over, glancing over her to see if she had hurt herself.

“oh, no, it’s okay mom” she smiled fakely, trying to reassure her mother. “i was just thinking out loud. nothing to worry about”

“oh, alright, sweetie” she smiled again, “how about something to eat?”

“i’m okay, thanks. i think i’m just going to rest” grace nodded, allowing her to leave.

she wouldn’t be okay, not until she could stop blaming herself. she took one last look at five' picture before she closed her eyes, trying to stop her tears. when she opened them she appeared in her bedroom. she quickly shut the door, locking it. at least in here she couldn’t do anymore damage.

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

“number eight” reginald’s voice was disappointed but y/n couldn’t find it in herself to care. so what if she was a failure, she had always been one anyways. “you are no longer allowed to go on missions with your siblings”

she didn’t raise her head. he wasn’t done. this is what she deserved. “you will instead be working on locating number five”

she froze, staring up at him in shock.

“what?”

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

a flash of blue light outside her window broke her out of her thoughts. she stood from her bed, glancing down at the courtyard. it couldn’t be..

[lorenzobane]

What *was* Julian Bashir’s backstory? Wild speculation for fun and profit!* 

So as some people may know, for five and a half seasons they did not have Julian’s Augment characterization planned. In fact, Siddig found out about that arc when he got the script for Dr. Bashir, I Presume? And really smart, cool people have gone back and essentially backfilled canon to make it make sense. They have come up with some really good explanations and headcanons. 

But I want to take it in the other direction. So, for five+ seasons they were writing Julian and definitely referenced many things from his past/created characterization with an entirely different fictionalized backstory. So I want to try and think through what that backstory was. Or: The Lost Julian Bashir Plot. Who was he before they decided to re-write his history? 

*Disclaimer: if any of this information exists in beta canon or in interviews I haven’t read/seen it so I’m operating fully on the text of the show itself and nothing else. 

First, the facts: 

(I’ll put this under a cut because its getting long) 

He clearly likes flexing his knowledge, and he has a fairly wide range of interests: literature, music, comparative culture (re: his complaints about 24th century theater), geology (given that Julian doesn’t seem to actually know the exact plot in Our Man Bashir I have to assume he just had that gem knowledge), his oft mentioned engineering extension course 

He played tennis, and wanted to go professional but realized he wasn’t particularly good at it (according to him) and decided to go into medicine

His character was always not close to his parents- in Homefront (S4x11) O’Brien asks Odo and Sisko to say hi to his family while they’re on Earth, they ask Julian if he wants the same thing and he very awkwardly says no suggesting the writers were always intending a complicated family dynamic 

He was afraid of Doctors, and the implication is that he was in and out of hospitals a lot as a child 

His father was a diplomat at some point 

Especially in early characterization, he’s clearly extremely ambitious, competitive, and desperate to prove himself; if we take the fact that they didn’t plan the augment arc seriously, then he really did just screw up an exam question in medical school and never let it fucking go. Or with the Carrington Award, he clearly was trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want to win, but of course he does! He’s a competitive guy, he wants to win things. 

He was engaged to a ballerina from a prestigious family, Palis’ father was the top administrator at a medical complex in Paris  

DS9, as i often harp on, is his first job out of college

He’s somewhat ambivalent about authority figures (see: Kai Winn, publicly humiliating Gul Dukat, calling Sisko out when he disagrees with him, calling Worf out when he disagrees with him, his attitude towards the Healer in The Quickening, yelling at Admiral Ross- though that is after the Augment arc, his actions in Past Tense, that time he and Kira end up in a Mirror-verse and he can’t stop sassing Mirror!Odo), and about authority for himself (see: him asking everyone to call him Julian, even though technically at least some of them should call him sir) 

My theory: 

I think the original intended backstory for Julian was that he was the son of a wealthy and respected Diplomat who was relentlessly hard on him and impossible to please. The way, especially early on, he uses his academic and professional achievements as a shield is extremely indicative of someone who has always had to prove their worth through achievement. I think that also explains his love of James Bond- a character who is often the smartest person in the room, filled with expertise on things like fancy wines, and literature. It makes sense that Julian would be attracted to a character whose expertise and general knowledge makes them cool and sexy, not annoying. 

The fear of doctors suggests to me that he maybe was extremely sick as a child, in and out of hospitals a lot until he got better. At some point falling in love with tennis and becoming extremely competitive in it. I think his parents, who I’ve already guessed are extremely impossible to please, convinced him he wasn’t very good and wanted him to do something more respectable instead. The fact that he didn’t want anyone to go see or check on his parents, even though Homefront implies there may be an invasion of earth is TELLING. 

He probably fell out with them when he decided to join Starfleet. I mean before that, he was engaged to a high class woman and about to get a cushy, fancy job- he rejected all of that for the opportunity to take a job that basically no one else wanted on the edge of space. If you’re an impossible to please parent, your son walking away from a perfect cushy life probably makes you crazy. This also might explain his deep distrust for authority figures, or people who try to tell him what to do. 

I’ve often felt that it was a seriously good thing that Julian doesn’t have a “boss” per say. Yes, Sisko is his boss, but Julian still outranks him on medical issues AND the medical bay seems somewhat separate from general Station goings on. Sisko doesn’t seem to particularly care how Julian runs his med bay or what research he’s ever doing- Julian is more or less allowed to just do his own thing which is great. I think if he had a boss in a real sense, he would lose his mind because he clearly and obviously hates being told what to do.  

So yeah- that’s my theory! What do other people think? I’m sure @sigynpenniman has given this subject some thought so would love your opinion! 

[mymuseisspeakingtome16]

You Don’t Know What it Means to Me

So...after the Laver Cup I came up with this, it was truly emotional will miss RF, he’s a fave of mine. hope RF/Fedal Fans enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction, unfortunately Roger retiring at the Laver cup was not, but no offence is meant to anyone at all. Also the song belongs to Queen, I own only the story itself.

                               You Don’t Know What it Means to Me

The quietness of the cavernous arena was strangely eerie, hard to believe that only an hour or so ago it had played host to perhaps the most emotional finale of a tennis great’s career, possibly the greatest player than the tennis world had ever or would ever see again.

Rafa sighed heavily, some would say he was biased but he knew he wasn’t...Roger Federer had changed the sport forever, a living legend...and changed his life too.

 It was hard to believe so many years had passed but neither had really changed, a few more lines around the eyes, hair shorter and, in his own case, thinner but he still felt like they were just starting out...how could it have all gone so fast? How had the most amazing era of his life come to an end?

Though he had known longer than most about Roger’s retirement, it hadn’t been any easier to get used to but, like everything, he’d manage.

 “I thought I’d find you here.” He turned at the sound of Bjorn’s voice. “You played well tonight, both of you.”

“Gracias, not the result we wanted, though.” Rafa’s mouth twitched ruefully.

Bjorn didn’t reply.

“I cannot stay; Mery is close now, she needs me; doctors say I need more surgery on my abdominal muscle if I am to play properly again. There is very much pain.”

“A risk worth taking?”

“Tonight, I had to be here.” He paused.” I’m sorry.”

Bjorn shook his head. “No need. Cameron will step in.”

“Gracias.” The pair shook hands.

  Watching the younger man leave, the inscrutable Swede knew that there was more to it; Rafael Nadal was a broken man and there was nothing anyone could do.

 Soon Rafa found himself back in the his hotel room;  as he splashed water over his face to soothe his aching bloodshot eyes, he saw the deep lines and dark circles below his eyes that suddenly made him look 30 years older than he was.

 The truth  was he was hurting far too much to hide it...physically, emotionally and mentally; what he’d said in the press conference was true...part of him had gone with Roger tonight.

He had listened, counselled Roger during those difficult phone-calls, been strong and brash as he always is and put every ounce of himself into making his friend secure in this decision and to give him his dream finale and said all the right things, he meant them of course, in the media...all the while trying to ignore the unbearable fear and grief that was threatening to drown him.

 Love of my life, you've hurt me You've broken my heart And now you leave me

 Retirement was something every sportsperson had to face in their career and they had both been plagued by difficult injuries, Roger had suffered and fought valiantly but even tonight had been far from certain. It had been his one wish that if he was fit enough to play the doubles match, he wanted to be teamed with Rafa for his final match.

 For Rafa there hadn’t even been a split-second’s thought, regardless of family or injury, he would be there.

 He’d been running on adrenaline for the last few days and being in practice with the team and seeing everyone again, especially Roger, felt amazing; it had been too long and he’d missed his friend terribly and seeing him back on court was like the sweetest high and Rafa almost believed that he’d dreamt all those calls and all of a sudden it was just like old times again with the years stretched wide.

 They were fired up, the game was fast and strong, their teamwork was outstanding as per; even the masked tactical discussions were in perfect sync, the minor disagreements and ‘directions’ from Roger were all comfortingly familiar. Any fears Roger may have had about his stamina were completely unfounded; they won the set point easily, even with Roger, albeit by chance, pulling off a brand-new trick shot; through the gap where the net met the pole! Causing much hilarity and completely shocked disbelief from John McEnroe!

Well, why break the habit of a career?

 Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be and Team World won the match, an annoying disappointment for Rafa, if only for Roger’s sake, but during their man-hug Roger assured him he didn’t mind, them just being together again was more than he could’ve hoped for, and surviving the match!  

 They were practically deafened by the roar of applause of 17,500 fans.

He watched as the audience and the world over cheered and wept for the legend he was proud to call amigo, hearing the praise that they heaped, virtues extolled so richly deserved and more. Roger deserved it, he deserved everything.

Roger took his lap of honour, soon embracing the team, Rafa could feel the emotion bubbling perilously close...he needed to keep it together; the hug was shaky ground but still calm-ish.

 “Roger, please come out.” Jim called.

 Though Rafa wouldn’t admit it, in many ways he’d always followed Roger’s lead with press, fans etc.; his friend was standing strong and proud as he began the speech that he’d written, re-written and rehearsed for days, so once again, he followed the hardest lead of his career.

 Then it happened...Roger started to crumble; desperation to maintain his famed composure was fast becoming impossible, talking about the people he loved and cared for most in the world, the passion for the sport that was as much a part of his identity as his name but the moment he mentioned not wanting to be lonely and how much being with the team, especially Rafa, had meant to him...the floodgates opened for them both.

 It hit Rafa like a ton of bricks...it was really over; Roger was officially retired.

All those great matches, they would be only history now, the shared teasing and madness that came from tour life...memories that at this moment felt more bitter than sweet. Yes, they would still be in each other’s lives but Roger was on a different path now.

His was the first face he looked for at every tournament and, even in the last couple of years with lockdowns and injuries it was always a case of ‘Back soon.’ This time it was ‘goodbye’.

 Love of my life, can't you see?

Bring it back, bring it back Don't take it away from me Because you don't know What it means to me

Bereft seemed too paltry a word to describe this, it was like he’d lost a vital part of himself; like everyone else he watched the tribute montage, listened to Ellie sing but none of it registered in his torrid mind. Suddenly he felt the tender but gripping squeeze of Roger’s hand, locking them together like a fortress and Rafa was glad to be; a simple gesture that said a thousand things. ‘Thank you.’ ‘I’ll miss you.’ ‘I can’t believe it’s over.’ ‘Don’t let go, I need you to help me get through this.’

 Seeing Roger’s usually cool veneer totally shattered, breaking his heart over the finality of it all, Rafa felt his own grief intensify; everyone swarmed around Roger and suddenly Rafa found himself pushed far back...no, he couldn’t be separated from him. Not yet.

 Both Robert and Mirka hugged him; Robert had sought him out and tried to be reassuring but, in a way, there were no real words that could stop the hurt.

 Before long, the official press stuff was over and the informal began; though it was now just family, friends and colleagues it still felt too public for Rafa, he was too raw to paint on a public face...though he didn’t want to break his earlier promise to Roger, he couldn’t face staying.

  It was a whirlwind and Roger was swept up in the memories and love, the congratulatory words as time ticked by...not quite how he’d imagined the end of his professional career but still beautiful...a different kind of perfect.

That word suddenly brought the room into sharp focus...in the sea of a thousand faces one very important one was missing.

“Bjorn?” He caught the older man’s attention. “Have you seen Rafa?”

Bjorn cocked his head, indicating this conversation needed to be private.

“What’s going on?”

“Rafa’s in his room; he’s withdrawn from the rest of the tournament, he’s leaving in the morning.”

“Ah, Mery, of course.”

“Not just that.” He paused. “I think this has all hit him harder than everyone thought it would, even him.”

 Roger slipped out seamlessly, quite a feat when you’re the star of the show.

“I’ll be back soon.” He mouthed to Mirka, she winked affectionately.

 For a moment he stood in silence; he just needed to breathe, let the feelings settle...everything was so crazy...he needed his friend....probably just as much as he needed him.

 Rafa had almost finished packing but the adrenaline still hadn’t abated and his mind was still a-whirring, he was so desperate to switch off just for a while.

 Love of my life, don't leave me You've taken my love (my love) And now desert me Love of my life, can't you see? (Please bring it back)

 A knock at the door and a deep accent startled him.

 “Rafa?”

Rafa felt his heart leap warmly as he opened the door.

“Roger?” He ushered him in quickly, away from prying eyes and ears. “Why are you up here; you should be with everyone, you are star tonight?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“You see me all hours for last two days, still not enough, huh?” He was trying to lighten the mood but the strain was clear.

“I wanted to thank you too; you made a wonderful night even more amazing.”

“I play tennis, make dreams come true, is what I do.”

“Not too bad for two old men, eh?”

“You are older than me.”

“True, no-one’s more surprised than I am to still be here.”

“Is no surprise, you are this GOAT they speak of.”

“You are too.” Roger raised an eyebrow as he heard the music faintly playing. “Queen?”

“Si, some songs I like, you suggested I try.”

A beat.

”Bjorn has told me you’re withdrawing.”

“Si, I am not fit to play.” He continued packing. “I go home, need to rest and feel better.”

“So...you came back for me?”

“I promise I give my best for you, I keep promise...always for you, Rogi.” Rafa could feel tears in his eyes and the pain in his throat.

“Don’t.” Roger swiped at his eyes again, laughing nervously. “I said we’d get through it, we did.”

“The match, si.”

“Everything.”

 For a moment Roger stared at the man in front of him seeing their whole careers fly past in seconds; how he’d grown from a talented and excitable teenage rival to ‘frenemies’ in their prime to now, friends in the ‘Old Guard’; yes his tennis playing journey was over but Rafa still had a way to go, however long or short and he couldn’t wait to cheer him on with every bit of vim and vigour he had.

Through laughter and tears, wins and losses, they’d seen it all and those precious memories would last a lifetime.

 “Come here.” Roger pulled him into a bear hug, immediately feeling the shuddering of Rafa’s barely concealed sobs. “Shhh.”

“Don’t go, Rogelio.” He whispered pitifully.

“It’s a done deal, you know that my friend.” He murmured.

“I don’t know how to do this without you.” Rafa looked up at him, tears streaming unabashedly.

“Like I told everyone out there tonight, I won’t be a ghost; you’ll see me everywhere, who knows we’ll probably play a game or two down the road.”

“Is not the same, you know that.”

Roger gently brushed the tears away with his thumbs. “There’s so much ahead for us, you’ve got your little one coming soon and many more I’m sure and you know I’ve got lots of plans.” He smiled affectionately. “I am SO proud of you, Rafa...everything you’ve become and that I can call you my friend; to play against and alongside you, it has been an honour.”

The younger man clung to him, clearly overwhelmed...only then did Roger allow a few more of his seemingly never-ending supply of tears to fall; yes, he’d made peace with his decision, he hadn’t had much of a choice really but it was hard won.

 The enormity of leaving this precious circle was hitting him and if he was completely honest an infinitesimally small part of him wished he could go back and do it all again, to be at Rafa’s side if nothing else.

 Bring it back, bring it back (back) Don't take it away from me (take it away from me) Because you don't know (ooh-ooh-ooh know) What it means to me (means to me)

 Over the last week he’d finally truly seen what he meant to everyone; fans, rivals, friends but, perhaps strangely, it was Rafa’s grief-stricken reaction that had both touched and hurt him the most, maybe because his friend was far more vulnerable than he let on to the rest of the world.

Roger had always been protective of him, almost like a big brother, actually they had been the brother that they’d both wanted and never had.

“You’ll be okay.”

Rafa shook his head against the Swiss’s chest. “Don’t leave me.”

Roger held him tighter, the tip of his nose very gently nuzzling his temple.

 They remained that way for a good long while...there was no-one else in the world.

 You will remember When this is blown over And everything's all by the way (ooh) When I grow older (yeah) I will be there at your side (ooh) To remind you how I still love you (to remind you) (I still love you)

“You okay?” Roger murmured against Rafa’s ear.

“Bueno.” Rafa nodded as they slowly released their hold on each other.

“There cannot be any tears left, surely?”  They both chuckled awkwardly, swiping at their eyes with their palms.

“Is getting out of hand.”

At that second Roger’s mobile buzzed.

“Ha.” Rafa ‘laughed’. “How you say, saved by the bells?”

“Something like that.” His brow creased lightly.

“Mirka wanting to know where you are?” Rafa waved his hand. “Go back to them, Rogelio, is your night.” He absently started to scan the room, picking up odds and ends left to pack.

Roger quickly typed a reply but kept hold of his phone, just watching and soon Rafa was aware of him still being there.

“You are still here?”

Wordlessly he showed his friend the text his wife had sent.

‘Darling, kids asleep. Stay with Rafa, think you need each other tonight.

Love you, so proud. Mirka. XXX’

 Rafa flashed a watery smile.

“She knows you well.”

“She knows us.”

A pause.

“¿Te quedarás?” (“You stay?”)

He nodded, part of him relieved at his wife’s sixth sense, though he still belonged to the tennis world and his family, a little piece of him belonged to Rafa and, right now, theirs was the only wavelength that made sense.

 “You look terrible.” Roger laughed softly.

“Si, you look worse.” Rafa quipped.

Roger walked to the minibar, taking out two bottles of water. “Here.” He lightly tossed one to Rafa, which he nimbly caught. “You need to rehydrate.”

The younger player uncapped the bottle, taking a long drink, arching his eyebrows indicating Roger should do the same.

“And these.” He took a small box of aspirin from his pocket, popping out a dose each. “We’ll feel this tomorrow, never mind the headache.”

Rafa smiled, you could take the player off the court....

“What time is your flight tomorrow, you know you can’t be late?”

“10:45am, I am never late just a little less early is all.”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Rafa; you need to get some sleep.”

  And so, the two friends curled up together on the bed and exhaustion soon carried them off as they held each other, fingers tightly gripped.

 On the nearby sound bar the haunted tones of Freddie Mercury sang out the ballad ‘Love of my Life’; the lyrics were oddly fitting for them and the night’s events...a strange new era was about to dawn.

Back, hurry back (back, back)

Please, bring it back home to me (bring it back home to me) Because you don't know (ooh-ooh-ooh know) What it means to me (means to me)

Love of my life Love of my life

(Ooh, ooh)

[gwendolynlerman]

Things that in Sweden and Denmark that surprised me

I just came back from a 5-day trip in Sweden and Denmark and since I did a similar post when I returned from Finland last month, here is a list of things that surprised me from these countries.

Some of these are common to the three countries (and probably Iceland and Norway, but I haven't been there yet), so I've grouped them together.

Disclaimer: This is my perception as a foreigner from Spain, a country whose culture is quite different from that of Nordic countries (which of course are not a monolith), that has only visited certain cities in these countries, so some things might not be representative of the whole country. I also generalize, but of course there might be exceptions to my statements.

On a final note regarding national languages, Danish sounds deeper and more German-like, while Swedish is very sing song-y. (I've actually fallen in love with Swedish, so I guess that's another language that I gotta learn now 🤷🏻‍♀️ I'm actually currently doing the Duolingo course, but I'm considering studying the language more seriously.)

Denmark, Finland, and Sweden

Doors are usually very heavy and are opened by turning the latch while moving the door handle.

Nordic people generally wear minimalist clothes in neuter tones and dress comfortably but fashionably. Many women wear tennis shoes with skirts to go to the office. (I don't know whether they change into heels when they arrive, though.)

There are life preservers next to any body of water (rivers, lakes, moats, the sea, etc.).

Denmark and Sweden

Green traffic lights for pedestrians last for an incredibly short amount of time. Sometimes one cannot even cross a whole street without them turning red before. Also, they don't warn you before they're about to turn red, which is such a pain in the ass. This is especially the case in Denmark.

People cross the street despite the traffic light being red. (We absolutely do this in Spain, it just shocked me that people from Northern Europe do it as well, because it's a big "no" in Germany.)

Finland and Sweden

Gender-neutral bathrooms in hotels and public places

Lots of Italian restaurants

People seem to love salty licorice (even salty licorice sweets that taste like wine, which imho are disgusting, but hey, to each their own 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Denmark

There are many more national flags in the streets than in any other Nordic country that I've been to, which suggests that they are more nationalist. (Nothing wrong with that, just a remark.)

Just like in Germany and unlike in Sweden (where Volvo is the most common brand), Volkswagen is one of the most common car brands.

Denmark is cheaper than Sweden, but since the Danish crown (DKK) is stronger than the Swedish one (SEK) and the euro, it's actually more expensive for tourists from Sweden and the Eurozone.

While automatic checkouts are ubiquous in Swedish supermarkets, they are way less common in Denmark.

Sweden

People speak really quietly among themselves while on the street, so it probably seems to them that we Spaniards are always shouting 😂 (We've got a reputation for being too loud lol)

There are not many supermarkets, but instead lots of convenience stores, including 7-Eleven. (There are also many 7-Eleven in Denmark.)

Many embassies don't have a plaque, but instead have giant flags of their country hanging from the facade. In Spain, there is normally a fence around the property and flags are placed on poles.

Local elections were scheduled to take place one day after we left the country and there were candidate banners hanging all around the city (both in Stockholm and Malmö), just like in any other country. However, we also saw what we think were politicians having rallies on the street and chatting with electors.

The "Free the Nipple" movement is especially powerful in Sweden, since many women were not wearing bras.

Trains and train stations are older than in Denmark, where panels are digital and not analogical (at least in Copenhagen).

Sweden is largely a cashless society in which many stores don't accept cash.

Tobacco is normally sold in small round containers that include something like nicotine patches that are placed in the gums. However, not many people smoke.

Undercover police cars are Volvo SUVs, which is hilarious imo. I mean, how can you take the police seriously when they ride around in the same car as suburban moms?

Bins in public places are not separated depending on the type of waste material, as in Finland and Germany.

Sweden is probably the most vegetarian- and vegan-friendly country in Europe and I love that.