#so many feels for tennis king

[woso-dreamzzz]

Icy III

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: He watches your match

He sits up in the box with Laporta, stretched out on the foldout chair like it's his personal throne.

He's wearing a new suit, freshly ironed and tailored to fit his body perfectly. His hair has been cut and styled to give that almost effortless look about him.

"Trust fund, I reckon," Patri says from your warm up circle," That guy that's up there with Laporta."

"No way," Pina disagrees," That's new money, not old. Probably a hedge fun manager."

"Or some kind of oil and gas giant," Mapi laughs.

"None," You say," Real estate at first then tech and then big pharma over in the states."

"What made you guess that?" Mapi asks and you stubbornly kick the ball away.

"I didn't. Laporta's not going to get money out of him anyway. The wife is the one that invests in sports but only ones she gets good profits out of. Two NFL teams, a Formula One team. She owns a tennis stadium in Paris. Big investor in the Olympics."

"Oh come on," Patri complains," There's no way you just know that off the top of your head."

"It doesn't matter. If Laporta wants money he should talk to the wife."

You can feel his gaze on you throughout the match.

It's a team at the bottom of the table and you're so technical that they can't get close but you can still feel the weight of his stare on you at all times.

'You carry the weight of our family'.

He's told you that many times.

'If you cannot exceed expectations then we have no use for you'.

He's told you that too, something you remember as you cross the ball into Pina, who taps it in easily.

You celebrate together, hugging and you feel Ingrid's familiar presence behind you as she gives you her customary kiss on the head.

You look up at him in the crowd, just out of reflex but you can't see much.

He's still splayed out like he's a king on a throne, looking down at you like you're a peasant in the street, fighting with someone else for just a scrap of bread.

That's his idea of entertainment, like holding up a magnifying glass towards an ant hill in the middle of a sunny day.

You feel small under his gaze, dipping your head in submission as you walk back into your position.

You assist in the next three goals.

Alexia.

Aitana.

Even Keira.

You're good at that. You've perfected the art of assisting.

Mapi's even joked before that you're going for the record of assists from one person this season.

Alexia says she's going to make you be more selfish and shoot more but you don't think you really need to do that, not when Caro can do it instead of you.

This is one of the rare matches where Caro's being rotated so gets no minutes. You fill her place though, like you always do, setting up goals and carrying the ball down the wing.

Barcelona win, of course, and you drift back to Ingrid and Mapi like you normally do.

Mapi grins at you, arm thrown over your shoulder and a frown on her face as you go rigid under her.

Laporta is on the pitch with him, stuttering over his words and hurrying to keep up.

He stops in front of you.

"Y/n."

Your head drops automatically, thoroughly chastised as you step out from under Mapi's arms.

His hand clamps down on your shoulder and you can tell how this is going to go before he even opens his mouth.

"Of course we're very proud of her," His honeyed tone tells Laporta," We've wanted nothing but the best for her."

For them, you correct in your head.

"She's always had such a passion for football. We love watching her play."

He's never seen you play in his life.

"We-We're very happy to have her here!" Laporta tells him," She's a real talent. You're produced quite the footballer."

He laughs, waving away the compliments as his hand feels like a shackle around you. "You're too kind. Sports has never quite been my thing. I'll have to talk to the wife about what we were talking about, I'm sure you'll understand."

"Of course! Of course! Take all the time you need!"

He will. You know he will.

He'll discuss with her and they'll write up a contract if it's really something they're interested, about what they pay in and what they get out of it.

She's always been better at the sports side of it, despite her background in real estate. She knows how to talk people around in circles. How to get through the little boy's club that every sport has. She'll get what she wants if Barcelona is even something she's interested in.

You hope it isn't.

"I'll leave you alone with your daughter," Laporta says and you want to call after him.

You want to tell him not to leave with your father.

Barcelona was supposed to be yours. You were supposed to be safe here.

You can't control when they summon you in Norway but if you're in Barcelona, they're not supposed to be able to get to you. You're not meant to be subject to their whims in Barcelona.

You want to go home. You want to go home with Mapi and Ingrid and curl up in your bed with Toast and not move for a week.

His casual hand on your shoulder grows heavy in an instant, nails digging in to your skin through your shirt and you have to keep the smile on your face to keep up appearances for the cameras you know are on you.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers to you," If you ever blindside me like this again then I promise you won't like what happens next."

"Sorry, Father," You say back.

"You better be. I didn't like sitting up there with potential business partners to see my own daughter down there like a football hooligan."

"Sorry."

"I'm better than that and I raised you to be better than that too."

You resist the urge to tell him that he didn't raise you at all.

Your wrist twinges, the phantom injury flaring up like it always did when you're nervous.

You throat bobs, already closing up as you fight back tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Apologies mean nothing." His voice is harsh in your ear and you find a point ahead of you to stare at so you don't cry.

If there's something that he hates more than apologies, it's tears so you stubbornly don't let even one fall.

"Who's this, y/n?" Ingrid asks, clearing her throat and you flick your eyes to her.

"My-"

Your father says his name, sticking his hand out and he's back to playing the role of proud father. "And you are?"

"Ingrid Engen. I play with y/n on the Norwegian team too."

"Ah! Yes. I think she's mentioned you before!" He's lying.

He didn't even know you played on the national team.

"And I'm Mapi. She lives with me and Ingrid."

"I can't thank you enough," Your father says," She can be quite a handful sometimes." He laughs but no one laughs with him.

"I think she's delightful," Ingrid says," Very helpful. Very studious. She's the best in her class."

The smile on his face is real now, like it always is when he hears about your academics.

He started in real estate and then moved to investing in technology and pharmaceuticals. He and your mother are scarily intelligent and it might be the only thing they passed onto you.

"We expect nothing less of her," He says," I'm sure everyone at the party will be glad to hear it."

Your breath stutters in your chest. "The party?"

"Yes! The party! I must have forgotten to tell you! We're having a little get together with a few potential business partners. We'll have to get you a dress."

"I don't need to go."

"Don't be silly!" His hand tightens on your shoulder and you know that this isn't a discussion. "There's some people I should introduce you too."

Your head drops again, the fight leaving your body.

"Do you want us to go?" Ingrid asks, ever polite though you feel like without her and Mapi there you won't survive. "So you two can have dinner?"

Your father is laughing again, finally releasing you and you take several quick steps to duck behind Mapi.

"I've got a flight to catch. Meetings to get to. Far more important things."

He can't see you anymore, not with your head bowed and pressed against Mapi's back and you finally let the tears fall.

Ingrid watches your father leave, down the tunnel and escorted to the player's exit by the staff that seem to be falling over themselves to make him happy.

"Y/n," She says, coaxing you out from your hiding spot," Oh, sweetheart...Are you okay?"

You look at her, bottom lip trembling as the tears run down your cheeks.

"Ingrid," You say, sounding small and wounded like an animal," I want to go home."

Ingrid nods as Mapi tucks you under her arm.

"Let's go home."

[artdcnaldson]

Been thinking about Patrick teaching Art how to masturbate

Patrick lowering himself down onto his stomach and between Art's legs on their pushed together beds, encouraging Art to continue despite his clear embarrassment.

Coaxing him into bringing his other hand down to his balls, only to end up doing it himself because the blonde's hands are shaking too much.

Once Art begins to get closer, so does Patrick. His hot breath fanning over Art's tip as he encourages him breathlessly.

Art shooting thick ropes of cum, half of which lands on his best friend's tongue, dribbling down his chin

And Art cums a lot and Patrick only wants to help. Sucking Art's tip into his warm mouth, licking his slit as he swallows him down

-🕊

I started shaking and vibrating reading this my god

Art jerking off as fast as he can the few random times Patrick leaves their hotel room while they’re at tournaments. He’s really, like, clinical with it— he just wants to cum as fast as possible. There’s no exploration, no teasing. He spits in his palm the same way Patrick showed him and fucks into his fist until he cums.

Patrick went out expecting a blowjob, and winds up getting stood up after the girl gets cold feet, so he trudges back to his room, already pent up and buzzing under his skin. It’s just his luck he walks into the room to see Art propped against the headboard of his bed, fist blurry from how fast it’s moving.

“Jesus Christ, dude, you’re gonna give yourself a friction burn.” Art yelps in surprise, throws a pillow over his lap to cover himself up, like the damage wasn’t already done ten times over. Patrick doesn’t give a shit. He relishes in making Art blush and squirm. He throws himself onto the bed, between Art’s thighs, and grins up at the blond. “You still jerk off the exact same way after six years?”

Art’s face wrinkles. “How else could I do it?”

So many ways. So, so many ways. But Patrick tries to be casual about it. “Dunno… you don’t touch anything else?” He tries not to act interested, like the answer won't plague his every waking moment the second it passes his lips.

"Dude, I don't finger myself. 'm not a girl," Art says, but the whiny affectation it comes out with doesn't help.

And fuck, that wasn't even what Patrick was thinking, but knowing that Art's mind went there... fuck, it does something to him. Patrick tries his best to push that thought deep, deep into the recesses of his mind and brings a smarmy little grin to his lips. It helps to hide his desperate interest.

"Yeah, but what about here-" he flicks Art's nipple and the blond squirms, which, incidentally, makes him buck up against the pillow. His cheeks burn hot and he tries and fails to make his glare look deadly.

"No." Art snaps. "I told you, I'm not a girl."

"I'm trying to help, you know. For old time's sake, you dickhead." He's trying to do more than just help. Patrick was the fucking king of hidden intentions. Of leading Art to do something for his own benefit. "It can feel better."

Art swallows, nose twitching slightly. It reminds Patrick of a bunny being led into a snare. He's not entrapping Art, of course. If Art just... told Patrick to fuck off, he'd go. Of course he would. He'd find some other hot tennis player to suck his dick.

"It can?" Art's pretty eyes are earnest, his pupils swallowing up all that pretty blue. Patrick smiles like the cat who got the cream and tugs the pillow away. When it lands at the headboard, he tries to ignore the large wet spot on the case. He's so hard in his shorts he thinks he'll pass out.

"Yeah," Patrick says. He grabs Art's wrist and moves his hand back between his thighs, past the twitching length of his dick. He moves his fingers over Art's and guides him to squeeze, so he's cupping his balls. The way precum dribbles from his tip isn't lost on Patrick. "Feels good."

Not a question, just... the first thing that he could think of. But Art nods regardless, his hand shaky as he gives a small squeeze. Patrick's eyes train on the expanse of his throat as Art's head falls back.

"God—" Art pants. "That's... yeah—"

Fuck yeah it is. Patrick swallows— all but licks his lips with big hearts in his eyes like a cartoon character. "Do it again. While you jerk off."

Art gulps and Patrick tracks the bob of his adam's apple. The blond exhales shakily and takes his cock into his trembling hand, his grip lax and hesitant. His other hand just barely teases over his sac, making his balls twitch and draw up. Fuck, Art’s so pretty— shaved smooth everywhere, flushed pink and needy, slick with pre.

Patrick wants Art’s cock stuffed down his throat so badly that he’s dizzy with it. “Let me, you’re not doin’ it right—“ Patrick says, and he replaces Art’s hand with his own. The blond whines and bucks up into his fist, legs kicking out.

“Patrick—“ He groans, but he doesn’t move Patrick’s hand, doesn’t squirm out of reach. “Fuck, Pat—“

Patrick swallows, moves closer. Art’s knuckles practically skim his jaw each time his hand reaches the head of his cock. His hips buck like he’s seeking the warmth of Patrick’s mouth. God, he wants that.

“See? Feels good, huh?” Patrick goads. He gives another firm squeeze and Art sobs pathetically, little ah, ah, ahs punched out from his lungs. Art nods, his curls plastered against his forehead. All of his words escape in breathy whines— yeah, feels good, so fucking good, Pat, god, please, please please please don’t stop, need it, do it again, fuck—

Patrick feels Art’s balls draw up, knows he’s going to come before Art even has a chance to warn him, not that he’s particularly verbose about it. All he manages is a mumbled, “Nnngghh— coming, coming—“ and he’s shooting warm, thick ropes of cum.

Art comes a lot. He’s always known the blond makes a mess, but Patrick never dreamed he’d be on the recieving end of a fucking facial from good Christian boy Art Donaldson himself. He feels Art’s cum paint his face, practically glazing him. It drips into his open mouth and he moans without thinking, his eyes fluttering shut as art comes and comes and comes.

When he’s finally spent, Art sobs weakly, collapsing back against the pillows. Patrick opens his eyes, licks the taste of Art’s spend from his lips, and looks at how fucking messy his cock is, dripping with pearly white. Patrick leans forward and licks, the same way he’s teasingly licked Art’s face, or his hand when they’re messing around. A long, messy lave of his tongue that makes Art’s toes curl into the duvet, muscles twitching until Patrick finally relents.

“Fuck,” Art says, breathless, exhausted, satisfied. “That’s… that was… I’m not gay.”

Right. He runs his hand through the cooling cum on his chin and smears it across Art’s face until his whines in protest and kicks Patrick off. “It’s not gay,” Patrick assures him, wiping his face with that same fucking pillow from earlier. One of them would have to sleep on it, but they could use the flip side. “I was just teaching you again. Don’t worry about it.”

Art nods, trying to convince himself through sheer delusion. That it wasn’t gay, that he didn’t like it, that he doesn’t have feelings for Patrick that can’t be explained away as being best friends.

Patrick taught him again, the way he did before. Only this time, he taught Art that when he wants to come hard, all he has to do is think about dark curls and blue eyes and a smarmy fucking grin.

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt1) | Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x tennis player!reader For the past year, Leah had been a big fan of yours, and now her mother wasn't missing any opportunity to tease her during Roland Garros. warnings: none, just fluff and slow burn note: this one is long (maybe?), sorry about that. The next part has more Leah and reader interactions, I promise. This was written with an oc, i changed everything at the last minute so sorry if there are any mistakes there,, pt2 my masterlist

Leah Williamson, England captain, European champion, Miss Arsenal.

That was how she was publicly recognised within the world of football, a sport that had always been her passion, but lately, or rather, since she had been invited to Wimbledon in 2023, she had begun to share some of that passion with tennis. 

She explained to everyone that she fell in love with tennis during a deep conversation with the legendary Billie Jean King. While there was truth to that, tennis didn't captivate her so much because of the sport itself, but rather because of a certain player, who since that Wimbledon semifinal, Leah had watched almost all of her matches. 

“Believe me, that girl Y/N is great, don't let this match fool you” Billie had muttered to her after witnessing your unfortunate loss in the last set.

And who was Leah to doubt the words of the greatest tennis player in history?

Since then, Leah has managed to watch as many of your matches as possible. And yes, you were undeniably beautiful, but what truly captivated Leah was the elegance with which you played. Each swing of your racket held a mesmerizing grace that left Leah spellbound every time.

And now, with a break after the final game of the European qualifiers, it was the opportunity for a holiday.

"Hey, Leah!" Georgia barged into her room on the last day of camp, now that they were back in England. "Got any plans for this week?"

"Yeah," Leah replied, without giving any details, more focused on packing her suitcase than engaging in conversation with her friend.

"Where? With who?" Georgia asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively. She knew Leah tended to keep her romantic interactions with girls in private, not just from the public but even from her own friends.

"With my mom, you idiot," Leah replied, rolling her eyes. "We're headed to France."

"Now? What's so interesting about France?" she asked, with a look of disgust on her face. Sure, there were plenty of interesting things to do in France, but Georgia didn't want to hear anything related to that country for a couple of days.

"Roland Garros? Does that ring a bell for you?" Leah retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"Huh? Since when do you go to another country for a tennis match?"

"My mom likes it" Leah lied smoothly, without any hint of shame. If only Georgia knew that Leah had sweetened the deal for her mother with promises of fine wines and breathtaking views post-match.

"Well, that's too bad... but text me if your plans change,"

Leah nodded, though it was in vain because she wouldn't change going to France to see her favorite tennis player.

"Who are we rooting for?" Amanda said, taking a sip of her drink, not really interested in what was happening on the clay.

"Uh, we're impartial," Leah said, settling back in her seat.

Four games had already been played, each player winning their respective games. 

"I have a feeling we're rooting for the girl in the white visor," her mother said. 

Leah looked at her, pulling her sunglasses down a little. "What?"

"Well, you make a face every time the other player makes a point."

Leah said nothing to that comment, her attention had returned to you, now one point away from managing to break your opponent's serve. It was an important match, a semifinal, so every point would be valuable to put you in the final of the tournament.

Still not saying anything back to her mother, Leah held her breath for a few seconds. The ball was going back and forth across the court, but you, with impressive precision, hit the ball with a spin that made it graze the top of the net. For a moment, it seemed like it might fall short, but the ball dropped just over, catching your opponent off guard.

"Wonderful" muttered Leah, crossing her arms with a smile, ready to enjoy the rest of the match. 

There were times when tennis was mentally overwhelming. You felt this every time you played, and it had cost you a lot of matches in the past. A whole court filled with hundreds of people, all watching you, many anxiously waiting for you to make a mistake that could cost you the match. It was more than overwhelming.

That's why, at times, you had to pause your mind and take a deep breath, despite how difficult that was for you.

You only needed one more game to win the set and secure a place in the Roland Garros final. No pressure, of course.

The advantage was that you were serving in this game, but ironically, this often made you even more nervous. The pressure of delivering a strong serve was immense. 

The crowd was overwhelming, so many eyes watching you, so many unfamiliar faces focused on you, watching every move, your family and team sitting behind you. In this position you couldn’t look at them to calm down. 

You needed to focus your eyes on something, to steady your nerves. As you walked towards your position, after drying your face with the towel, you looked in a diagonal direction, right towards the area where you were supposed to put the ball. 

As you raised your gaze slightly, something caught your eye. In the stands, amid a sea of blonde and brown heads, was a woman with striking red hair. The woman stood out, not only because of her hair, but also because she was the only person not looking at you, instead, her attention was elsewhere.

You stole a glance at the red-haired woman as you inhaled deeply, preparing for your serve. With a fluid motion, you raised her arm, tossed the ball into the air and delivered a powerful strike.

Ace!

The ball zipped across the court with velocity, catching your opponent off guard. Convinced it would fly out, your opponent made no attempt to chase after it.

A satisfied smile tugged at your lips.

Once more, your gaze flickered toward the red-haired woman in the stands. Drawing another deep breath, you focused intensely as you prepared to serve again. With a determined flick of your wrist, you sent the ball hurtling across the court, this time, your aim wasn’t for an ace, but rather to set up a play that would complicate the things for your opponent.

Within minutes the score stood at 40-15. Just one more point. 

You didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but you craved to close the match with a decisive point, one point to make it clear why you were here.  

So, you adjusted your visor, brushed your fingers over the gold chain hanging from your neck and looked up, for the first time looking directly at the woman, not even getting a good look at her, because the woman was quite far away, but the woman's disinterest helped you to clear your head and focus your mind, ignoring the bunch of other faces watching you. 

Just one more point.

You lifted the ball, the familiar weight of your racket in your hand, a quiet groan escaping your lips before you swung. Then, the sound of the impact echoed through the entire court and as the ball bounced on the clay.

Ace!

Leah was up from her seat at the same time as you fell backwards onto the clay. 

"That was incredible," Leah exclaimed, joining the chorus of applause. 

"Incredible?" Amanda asked without understanding that much. However, what truly caught her off guard was the sight of her daughter like that, grinning from ear to ear. It was common to see her like that when it came to football matches, but not usually during tennis.

"Are you kidding? It was phenomenal! If you hadn't been glued to your phone, you’d have felt the same as the rest of us!" Leah retorted.

"So, did we win?" Amanda inquired.

"Well, you have won a few more days in France," Leah replied, attempting to temper her excitement. "The final is in two days."

"Do we have tickets?”

"Of course, I purchased them in advance. I already knew Y/N would make it to the finals."

Amanda regarded her daughter suspiciously. "You're not into gambling, are you?"

"Of course not," Leah replied with a grin. "But if I were to bet on her I'd do pretty well”

As they made their way toward the exit, following the crowd, Amanda broke the silence. "Do you know that player?"

"No… not personally" Leah replied "But I watched her play at Wimbledon last year."

"Did she win?"

"No" Leah shook her head, a hint of disappointment in her expression. "She lost"

"So, she's not that good?" 

"Actually, she's quite impressive," Leah defended you. "She went up against the number two player in the world."

"What rank is she?" Amanda inquired.

"Four," Leah answered.

"Then she's not the best," Amanda said confidently.

"Mom!" Leah nudged her playfully while Amanda held back her laughter. "You couldn't even hit the ball."

"Neither could you, I remember your attempts at tennis when you were little," Amanda chuckled. "But what I don't get is why you're defending her so much"

"Because she's great, she’s talented! Look over there!" Leah pointed behind her, where a large screen displayed the game's results alongside your photo.

Amanda's eyes immediately gravitated toward the image, ignoring the points table. "And she's quite pretty," she remarked, studying your face for the first time.

"And she's talented," Leah emphasized, feeling a blush creeping up her ears. Thankfully, her hair concealed it from her mother's curious gaze.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," Amanda replied with a smile.

It was a tough match, quite a tough match, but that's what you would expect in a Roland Garros final. 

The first set ended 6-4 in favor of Iga Swiatek.

You had faced her numerous times throughout your professional career, but had never managed to defeat her in an official match. Despite your old friendship with Iga, there was an undeniable intensity when you two met on the court, and you were determined to shine this time.

As the first set concluded, you sank into your chair, you had to use the break to ease the tension in your legs. Uncapping your water bottle, your fingers instinctively found the gold chain around your neck, adorned with your initials. It may have seemed superstitious, but wearing it had always brought you luck on the court.

Suddenly, your coach's voice pierced the distance, signaling for you to relax and loosen up your play. You brushed off the advice, as if you hadn't already realized that. Ignoring your coach's guidance was risky, but you already had your own voice in your mind against you. 

Taking a long sip of water, you refocused your gaze forward. Then, something caught your attention.

The same woman from the previous match was in the stands again. You hadn't noticed her before, too engrossed in your opponent. Again, that was the key to your game, you needed to block out distractions and focus on yourself and the ball. Just like you had done during the semifinal match, you needed to tune out everything else.

"How many points before your girl loses?" Amanda said, glancing sideways at Leah, who was leaning forward, her elbows on her knees and a faint blush on her cheeks. According to Leah it was from the sun hitting her face, but Amanda knew her daughter well enough.

"Don't pester me, now's not the time," Leah replied, sitting up straight in her seat and adjusting her sunglasses.

"I'm not pestering you, but you claimed that girl was fantastic. Yet, from what I've seen today, the other player seems better to me."

"Well, she's number one after all"

"So, you admit she's the best."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Y/N just needs to take a breath. After this break she'll bounce back, you'll see. She'll shut your mouth"

"If you say so."

And so it happened. You had won the second set 4-6, breaking Iga's serve at the crucial moment. The victory was almost surreal, even Leah found it hard to believe.

"Stop biting your nails," her mother said, giving Leah's leg a slap as she saw her nervous habit.

"She's going to win," Leah said without looking at her mother, her gaze fixed on you, as you refreshed yourself by wetting your hair before the final set.

"Leah, you've been saying that since yesterday," Amanda remarked, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her tone.

"I’m excited," Leah defended.

Amanda shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "If she wins, will you approach her?"

"Are you being serious?" she said, shaking her head "What would I even say?" Leah replied, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"You've been crushing over her for days. I've never seen you like this with someone you don't even know," Amanda teased.

"It's not a crush. I just admire her athletic ability and determination, that's all," Leah insisted.

"Well, then you two have something in common. I don’t see why you don’t talk to her" 

"Because... I just don't," Leah stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"What a coward," Amanda teased.

The set stood at 4-5 in your favor, but now it was Iga's turn to serve, and she was already in position. You shifted your weight from side to side, preparing for the shot, a smile gracing your lips as you caught sight of the red-haired woman just above Iga’s head. The woman had become your anchor, helping you refocus on your game. 

It was almost amusing, thinking that no one else existed in the crowd, just you and the woman. You could tell the woman wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in the clay. You often caught the woman glancing at her phone during the set. Yet, you found solace in playing as if you were solely performing for the woman.

However, you didn’t forget the game at hand, swiftly responding to each shot with your racket, rallying back and forth several times before you had a moment of brilliance that allowed you to execute a breathtaking drop shot in the opposite direction of Iga's sprint.

It was the highlight of the tournament, perhaps even of your career, your best point. Yet, when you glanced up and noticed the red-haired woman looking away, you couldn't help but chuckle.

With the score now at 40-AD, you needed just one more point to clinch your first grand slam title. As Iga's shot came straight towards your body, you managed to get your racket in position to return the ball. The exchange of the ball was intense, this time you had to sprint to reach a ball you never thought you could. You struck it with the edge of your racket, hoping for the best as the ball sailed toward the line.

As you watched the ball clear the net, you felt the light weight of your gold chain around your neck and remembered that luck was on your side this time.

Everything happened in slow motion as Iga dropped her racket to the ground, and moments later, you found yourself on your knees on the clay court, the crowd erupting into cheers around you.

You didn't know how, but now you were already in the stands, being hugged by your family and your team, with your coach by your side, trying to shake some of the clay off your clothes. 

"I need you to do me a favor" you said to him before the tournament staff took you away for the trophy presentation.

As Leah and her mother descended the stairs toward the exit, Leah couldn't contain her excitement. "I told you Y/N would win," she exclaimed, her hand firmly grasping her mother's arm. The trophy presentation had concluded, and the crowd was beginning to disperse. 

"It was luck," Amanda teased her daughter, though she couldn't deny her surprise at your remarkable turnaround.

"We should have placed a bet. We would have won"

"At least I won't have to endure your grumpy face during dinner," Amanda said with a playful smirk.

Leah rolled her eyes as they walked through the crowd.

"Excuse me!" A man's voice behind them interrupted their conversation. Leah's eyes widened as she recognized him. "This might sound strange… but Y/N wants to see you," the man explained to Amanda, who didn't understand the situation at all, her daughter didn’t either.

Leah felt a tug on the arm her mother was holding on.

"Uh-"

"It's Y/N's coach," Leah clarified to her mother.

"And she wants to see me?" Amanda asked.

The man nodded awkwardly. "I wish I could offer more explanation, but Y/N is sometimes unpredictable."

After a moment of contemplation, Amanda flashed a mischievous smile and nodded, gripping her daughter's arm even tighter. "Sure, take us to her."

Leah's heart raced. How was it possible that she was going to meet her crush the athlete she admired thanks to her mother? 

Your coach, after a few minutes of walking in silence, led them through a door into a room where you were lying on a couch, eyes closed.

"Hey, Y/N. Your guests are here," your coach announced, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

You quickly opened your eyes and stood up, ignoring the fact that you had just played a two-hour match less than half an hour ago. 

You were no longer wearing your visor and your shoes, but you were still in your white uniform with lilac accents. Leah couldn't help but notice that your socks were now stained with clay.

"Y/N L/N" you introduced yourself, extending your hand toward Amanda. Your attention seemed focused on Amanda, oblivious to Leah standing behind her. "I'm introducing myself because I have a slight feeling you don't know me," you said with a smile.

"Amanda," she said, shaking your hand. "Don't worry, I know who you are. A little voice hasn't stopped repeating your name since we arrived in France."

Leah blushed and glanced away.

"Oh," you released Amanda's hand and turned to the blonde, whom you hadn't noticed during either match. "Shouldn't I introduce myself then?" you asked, extending your hand toward Leah.

"No need," Leah said, feeling her mother's not-so-subtle nudge as you extended your hand. "My name is Leah, and I'm a big fan of yours."

"Your number one fan," Amanda chimed in with a smile.

"Mom!" Leah protested, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

You released Leah's hand and turned to Amanda.

"She brought me all the way from England just to see you," Amanda explained, noticing the way you were looking at her daughter. 

"England?" you asked, curious about the mention of England.

"Yes, we're from England," Leah confirmed.

"And my daughter is the captain of—"

"Mom, no!" Leah interjected, her cheeks turning pink as she attempted to silence her mother's impending revelation.

You couldn't help but laugh at Leah's embarrassment, finding the exchange amusing.

"Why are we here?" Leah asked before her mother could continue.

"Oh, right," you replied, regaining your composure. "I wanted to thank you," you said, turning to Amanda and clasping your hands behind your back.

"Me?" "Her?" Amanda and Leah exclaimed simultaneously, surprised by your words.

"Yes," You said softly, your gaze shifting to Leah, a smile returning to your face. "Since the semifinal match, I noticed your mother in the stands. Although, it's hard not to see her," you added, gesturing towards Amanda's red hair. "She was the only person in the whole court who wasn't looking at me. Thanks to her, I was able to concentrate and win. It may sound silly but—"

"Oh, don't worry honey," Amanda interjected. "They usually tell me that I bring good luck in big games," she said, nodding towards Leah with her thumb.

"You're an athlete? Sorry, what was your name again? I don't have a good memory with names," you said, this time blushing slightly.

"Honey, Leah is the captain of the England team," Amanda clarified, speaking on behalf of her daughter.

"Oh... Football? Volleyball?" You inquired.

"Yes, football," Leah replied, feeling a flush of embarrassment. She had never felt so embarrassed in her life, not even as a child.

You glanced Leah up and down once more. You had never imagined a football player could dress so stylishly. You found yourself so engrossed in observing Leah's attire that you only snapped back to reality when your coach cleared his throat.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure to thank you for your help, even if you didn't realize it," you said, pulling an autographed tennis ball out of your pocket. "I'm not sure how valuable this is to you, but perhaps your daughter will appreciate it," you added with a laugh, glancing sideways at Leah. "Well, I must be off now, interviews and all that," you explained, walking away to grab your bag. "Hope to see you two at Wimbledon," you said, winking at Amanda before leaving.

The next day, Leah found herself at the airport, keeping an eye on their suitcases while her mother went to grab something to eat. Suddenly, a notification on her phone caught her off guard.

Y/N_kz started following you

[yuwuta]

Wow I have been nonstop thinking about tennis king yuuta and his little baby boy I’m going to kill you (affectionate) - @yuutito

teeheeeeeeeee….. here’s some more, aleks :’) enjoy :))))))

“Everybody thinks he looks like me, but I don’t see it that way. Maybe it’s because every time I look at him, I see my wife and I’m reminded of her […] I’m a little biased so I see her in everything.” 

You find yourself with tears welling in your eyes the more you read into Yuuta’s latest magazine interview. Between his sweet quotes and the pictures of him with your son, it’s taking everything in you not to burst into full-blown tears. 

Your boys look so handsome. You and Yuuta shared your concerns with publicizing your child at such a young age, but you two came to the conclusion that you’d rather have the control in the narrative than to let private family pictures be leaked uncontrollably. As another point of reassurance, Yuuta’s career provided him with just enough lime-light to be a household name without the crazy fame and criticism that came along being a true celebrity. Besides—Yuuta talked enough about you and your son in press conferences and interviews that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. 

The article wasn’t entirely about you, or your family—or at least, you’re sure it wasn’t intended to be; you knew your husband had a knack for rambling about his loved ones, even where work was concerned. As you continue to read, you find a segment where the author compared Yuuta’s current statements with something similar he’d said about you twelve years ago—at the very start of his professional career: “If I owe this [winning Gold] to anybody, it’s my girlfriend. She’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. I wouldn’t have qualified or even thought to qualify if it weren’t for her.” 

It feels like you and Yuuta were just two kids in love back then. You didn’t think it could be more than that—you didn’t think you could love Yuuta more than you did all those years ago, but somewhere along the way just being in love wasn’t enough to describe it; Yuuta became your partner, someone you loved fundamentally, but also because you couldn’t stand to see yourself without him. And just when you thought you couldn’t love anyone nearly as much as you love him, you turn the page to a picture of your husband and son peeping through the holes of a racket and your heart feels full. 

When you scan the image more closely, you realize that it isn’t just any racket—it’s an old one, one you’d given to Yuuta as a gift probably back in high-school. You had no idea he’d kept it, but you suppose you shouldn’t be all that surprised; Yuuta is nothing if not sentimental. 

“Ah, there she is~” Yuuta’s voice cuts through your thoughts. When you turn, you see him, with your baby boy on his hip, sliding the back porch door closed. 

Both boys approach you with a smile on your face, and you set the magazine aside to sit up in the lounge chair to greet them. Yuuta presses a kiss to your forehead, then your lips before you do the same to your son. Immediately after, he reaches his arms out for you, and Yuuta chuckles, “You wanna be with your mama? Can’t blame you, I missed her, too.” 

He hands the baby off to you, and takes a seat on the other end of the chair, reaching over to coo at his son as you smother his face in kisses. 

“How was the farmer’s market?” you question, letting the baby settle into your lap. 

“Good, he picked out some very bright peppers, and we got some more strawberries, know you’ve been craving them,” Yuuta smiles, reaching over to pat your son’s head, when the closed magazine catches his eye, and he reaches for it, quickly flipping through, “Ah—I guess that interview’s out. He’s grown so much, even though it was only a few months ago.” 

You find the blush on his cheeks beyond endearing. Yuuta always finds room to be bashful no matter how many times he’s waxed poetic about his love for you, or his family—his cheeks always stain pink like the first day you met him. 

“It’s sweet. You’re sweet,” you smile, sparing a hand to run through Yuuta’s hair, charmed by the way he leans into your touch, “I didn’t know you still had that racket.” 

“Of course, I keep everything you give me,” he says, earnestly. He closes the magazine and scoots a little closer, taking advantage of the proximity and of your touch to lay his head on your shoulder, “Did you… read all of it?” 

“Almost, but no, why?” you question, with a light-hearted grin, “Did you say something that would lead the world to believe you’re somehow even more in love with me? Because you might already be past the threshold, dear.” 

Yuuta hums. He reaches to take you son out of your lap and carefully shifts himself to that he’s laying down, his head on your lap, and the baby in his arms, happily giggling and cooing as Yuuta holds him up. He lowers and raises him back and forth a few times, nuzzling their noses together when their faces are close, before sitting him up on his chest.

Then he tilts his head up to look at you, wide, love-filled eyes blinking slowly before he says, “Maybe… depends on if me saying I want more kids is past the threshold or not.” 

[deliciousangelfestival]

His Silly Princess | Bucky (Oneshot)

Character: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Words Count: 1,671

Summary: A modern royal love story. A naive princess who wants to get away from an arranged marriage. She never knew that her guard had loved her since the beginning. 

Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Zylovia is a country where monarchy still exists. It’s a developed country located near Western Europe. 

It’s a prosperous country, and the number of unemployed is also the lowest. Tourists love coming here for the casino, race car, and music festival. 

But this country has one outdated rule. It didn’t apply to the citizens. Only for the royal family. 

“If the female royal member marries a commoner, she will lose her status."

You learned that rule when you were 12 years old as the youngest siblings and Princess Zylovia. You didn't put a deep thought into it. 

But now, when you are almost 30 years old, and your older siblings are already married, you think this is good for you.

Because you realize you’re not fit to do the duty as a princess. 

Your oldest brother has prepared since he was a kid to be the king. When he reaches the age of 40, he will be crowned as the king. Your second brother will be the second commander in the military. 

While you have a job as a painting conservator at the museum, your duty as a princess is to welcome the official foreign guest at the castle. You learned some languages, but you’re not allowed to give any opinion on politics.

You don’t hate being a royal, but sometimes you feel like living in a golden cage. 

And finally, you had enough because, on your recent birthday, your parents talked to you about marriage. 

The king and queen don’t want to be separated from their youngest daughter, but they hint that they wish for her future husband from the royal circle. In other words: arranged marriage. 

You clenched your jaw while smiling at your parents. If the man from the royal circle is a real gentleman, you wouldn’t mind. 

But the problem is, please pardon the harsh language; none of the men from the royal family are your type. 

Your type of man must have a stable job, look good in suits, and have a nice body. 

That’s why, for a couple of days, you’ve made a list of potential future husbands. After you write it, you realize most of the men are from the knights. Perhaps because you always went to meet your second brother at the military training ground, so you know some people. 

Steve Rogers

[Friendly, not married, nerd, loves to paint like me]

Ari Levinson 

[Funny, beautiful hair, handsome]

‘Knock, knock!’ Suddenly, someone knocked on your door.

“Come in.”

You didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. You have known him for years, and your ears are familiar with the sound of his footsteps. 

The person who walked into your room has been your exclusive bodyguard for years - James Barnes, but you always call him Bucky his nickname. 

Bucky is a commoner and an elite soldier. If there’s a shooting competition, he will be in the top three. Your second brother always hates him. 

He has received many medals of honors, but he rejects a knight title from your father. You don’t understand why he declined the offer. If he received it, he could enter politics, and he doesn’t have to follow her around anymore. 

He’s tall, handsome, with perfect blue eyes and has fine muscles on his body. Bucky also has a primarily female fanbase when he wears the military uniform and rides a horse at the independence ceremony. 

He became a celebrity overnight.

But you have never seen or heard any rumor about him with a woman. 

“Your highness, in two hours you are going to attend the tennis tournament.” 

You dropped the pen and dropped your head to the table. “Urgh. Do I have to?”

Bucky chuckled when he saw you unwilling to go. One thing you hate about your duty is to be the guest at the tennis game. You prefer to watch the race car, but it's reserved for your brother's. 

Even though you didn’t want to go, you still dragged your feet to the dressing room to grab your coat. 

When you were searching for the right outfit, you suddenly remembered. “Oh no!” You didn’t hide the potential list that you just wrote. You wish you could dig your own grave and disappear. 

And you were right; Bucky saw your writing. He furrowed his eyebrows while he read your paper. “What’s this? Potential man for marriage?”

You stand beside him; you don’t know why you feel scared. This is the first time you have seen him like this. 

His slender, pointed fingers scratched the two names with his nails. There’s a big X on your paper. 

“Don’t marry any of those men.”

“Why?”

A small smile appeared on his lips, along with a soft voice, “Steve hasn’t moved on from his last girlfriend, and Ari, he loves to drink alcohol. I know you hate the smell of alcohol.”

You felt disappointed; you crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash.

“Marriage? Why all of a sudden?” There's an annoyed tone in his voice.

You rubbed your head and muttered, “I need to get married sooner, or my parents will arrange marriage for me, their friend's kid. And you know the truth, I had enough of being a princess.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “But, why them?”

“What?”

He clenched his fist; Bucky stared at her with an annoyed expression. “Why didn't you put me on the list?”

“....”

You waved your hand. “It doesn’t matter, as long as I got married.”

“So, would you like to marry me?”

Are you having hallucinations? Did Bucky just propose to you?

Bucky got on his knees. “Let’s get married.”

You still haven’t come to your senses. Bucky started talking again. “Think about it. Both of us have known each other for a long time. We’ve known each other's likes and dislikes. We’ve been through many things together.”

He’s right. He’s the safest choice if you want to marry someone. You shrugged your shoulders and accepted his hand. “Alright.”

Bucky's beautiful smile appeared on his face. Before he shook your hand, he felt you slightly pull his hand. When you saw him smile, your heart raced. “But, if in the end, we don’t like each other, please wait after three years, then we could get a divorce.”

Bucky chuckled; his attractiveness is not just in his physical appearance but also in his ability to manage his emotions gracefully and restraintfully. He leaned closer to you, and his hands gently grabbed your chin. 

As his calloused hand touched your skin, a subtle warmth spread on your cheeks. You could feel you're blushing. “Silly girl, it will never happen.”

#######

[Bucky P.O.V]

Then he rests your arms on his. “Then you have the excuse to skip the tournament.”

“Hmm?”

“We should inform this first to His Majesty and Her Majesty.”

“Oh, right.” You nodded, then looked straight into his blue eyes again. “This soon?”

********

When both of you walk through the hallway to meet the King and Queen, Bucky tries his best to calm down. He almost lost his common sense when he saw you write another man's name, and there’s a word of ‘potential husband.’

He looks at you and thinks ‘his silly princesses didn’t realize his feelings for her.’ 

Didn’t she know he declined the offer to be a knight so he could be her guard?

If he became a knight, he would work with her second brother. That’s the last thing he wants to do. 

“So, Bucky, don’t worry about money. When I resign as a princess, the kingdom will give us money.”

Bucky chuckled, seeing his sweet princess worried about their future, “That’s so sweet of you. But you don’t need to worry about that.” He gently patted her arms. He wants to tell you that he owns the famous casino in this kingdom and 5-star hotel chains in a few countries.

When both of you are married, Bucky will ensure you don’t have to work anymore. He is pretty sure that her parents will give their blessings even though he’s a commoner (and he’s super rich). The royal family has outdated rules, but because of it, he could marry you. 

Both of you arrived at the king's office room. The guards bowed their heads to greet you. Then you said, “Princesses Y/N and her guard. Wait… and her future husband, James Barnes wants to meet the king.”

The guards and the butler who opened the door lost their composure. They should have known from your body language walking here together hand in hand when usually Bucky always stands behind you. 

This news is shocking compared to the crown prince, who got caught partying too hard and the second prince, who had a messy love life before he got married. 

It seems like your father, the King, hears your voice. Before the castle butler tells him, you hear the gentle voice, “Come in.”

########

[2 years later]

<Former Princess of Zylovia Y/N, blessed with male twins>

It's the biggest headline in the country after you gave birth. You feel overwhelmed; you can't believe that you're parents now. 

The King and Queen hold your oldest son, while Bucky has the youngest son in his arms. 

Bucky's eyes are full of love, looking both at his sons. He was almost scared to death since you gave birth one month early. But the doctor assured both of you this is normal since you're pregnant with twins. 

Even though you're not a princess, you're still surrounded by your family. 

And Bucky still treats you like a princess. You almost lost your mind when he told you his business, which turned into your parents, and your brothers already know it, too. 

You want to knock your head; you didn't even know Bucky's business helped increase the country's GDP. 

Everyone said Bucky was the lucky guy to marry the former princess, but they were wrong. It's you who is lucky to marry him.

-End-

Join Taglist? ❤️❤️❤️

@magnificentsaladllama, @esotericgalaxy, @xcaptain-winterx, @buckysteveloki-me, @cherrybubblebullet, @bagoffeelings, @darkofimagination, @starsofcloud @shamrockqueen, @shinytreefire, @thezombieprostitute, @mrvlxgrl , @lassie-bird , @cookingdancingchick , @ordelixx , @scott-loki-barnes

[agroteraa]

The Wrath of the Stag

Chapter one

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Part 3.1.

Part 1: Actaeon

Part 2: Artemis

Part 3.2: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.2)

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, masturbation, mentions of sex, almost?onesided!Felix.

Word Count: 4,3K

The summer went on. June and July were already more than happy months, but August gifted you with completely new feelings in your life.

Two weeks had passed since the events of the karaoke night. During this time, you and Oliver became even closer, but it was only known to the two of you. In public, you tried to behave the same way, but as soon as no one was around, Oliver stole a kiss from you every now and then, and this was just the beginning of the list. Winking at him while playing tennis, almost riding him in the library chair, flirting by the pool while no one was watching and caressing each other underwater, passionately making out on Saltburn garden benches late at nights, luring him into your bathroom while no one was nearby, holding hands in the dark in the "back row" in the cinema room while watching some TV or film all together. And endless glances at each other that lasted almost forever.

And not to mention all the hot, sleepless, though as silent as possible, summer nights that he gave you when he sneaked into your room. Of course, your rapprochement was seen a little more in public than before, but no one seemed to notice anything. Or say anything. Except Felix, who sometimes seemed to frown if you and Oliver talked about something for too long, forgetting about him.

This summer was like a thrilling fairy tale that was supposed to end beautifully with Oliver Quick's birthday.

While Elspeth and James were planning the party, the costumes, the guest list, you were thinking about what you could gift your dear one. During a trip with Venetia to the city for shopping and searching of an outfit for the upcoming event, you went to a local bookstore. Walking past the shelves and looking through the many options, you stopped at something that such a sophisticated and well-read person like Oliver would appreciate. A large thick dark green book about ancient Greek mythology in a gift edition, with gold lettering, on the cover there was Icarus falling away from the sun. His wings and sun were embossed in gold and were slightly voluminous. Excellent, you thought to yourself, running your fingers over the cover. That was it.

Returning to Saltburn after a trip on a hot day, you and Venetia decided to swim a little, and then take a rest and sunbathe near the windows of the house. Having spread out colorful blankets, both of you lay down on them in swimsuits, drank soda and lazily chatted about something of your own.

Oliver was smoking at the time, lying in his bathtub and enjoying the thought of how he would bask in attention on his birthday. How he would bathe in Y/N’s attention. After leaving the tub, he was waiting for water to drain and slowly walked over to the window. Oh. You were there, lying in a swimsuit. You were relatively far away, but he could perfectly imagine the droplets of water and sweat evaporating from your hot body. You turned over on the blanket, gracefully bending and swinging your legs, talking to Venetia.

Ooh. He had missed you so much already. He remembered how this body, which was now turning on the blanket, writhing under him last night. It was so beautiful. He began to feel aroused again. Oliver's hand reached down for the rapidly hardening cock. He was lazily puffing on a cigarette and looking at you from the window, stroking his manhood. It felt so good. He felt like a king in his domain right now.

"Hey, Ollie, I..." Felix entered the room without knocking, thinking that Oliver was in his room and not in the bathroom, "What the fuck?"

Quick took his hand away in fright and jumped a little away from the window, putting out his cigarette.

Felix went to the window and followed his gaze, "No, what the fuck? Are you wanking to my sister? Or… Y/N?!"

Oliver started to stutter, "Um...I..."

"No, I want to know that. It's creepy, man!" Felix insisted.

Not knowing which answer was the most or least acceptable to Felix, Oliver decided to say "both".

"Huh?" Felix was still confused, standing frozen for a moment. But then shook it off, laughing, "I get it, buddy, it seems someone has a complete lack of girls. Don't worry, we'll go back to Oxford, I'll help you get laid."

He jokingly hit Oliver in the shoulder, he shriveled a little, and nodded, pursing his lips, responding with a weak "yeah, great".

"I just came by to tell you that my mom has found you a birthday outfit and wants you to come up to her now. You should like it," Felix said, turning around and leaving the room, his face becoming gloomy and broody again.

* * *

Two days later, you were reading a copy of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by the pool, the weather was wonderful and you were enjoying the August sun. Felix came to the next lounger, wearing only swimming shorts.

"Hey, Y/N, can I join your sunbathing?"

You said yes, surprised that the owner of the house suddenly asked you for such permission. He sat down and looked at you, smiling. He was squinting slightly from the sun, the freckles on his face were beautifully scattered over his summer-tanned skin.

"Oh, you've almost finished the book... And I'm stuck in the middle, I still can't get through it, the chapters got tedious."

You laughed, "Well, yes, you've never been a big fan of books."

"It's true," Felix grinned and continued, hesitating, "Y/N, can we talk about something?"

"...yes?" you answered, surprised, putting the book on your lap and sitting up on your lounger.

"What are you... thinking about Oliver?" that question turned your stomach over. What did he mean, did he know something?

"Um, well, he's a good guy. And interesting one. Better than I thought of him when I saw him at Oxford. More precisely, I wasn’t thinking about him at all then, it's more correct to say so," you muttered nervously.

"So are you thinking now?.. Anyways, I don't know, Y/N, sometimes he seems a little strange to me."

"What exactly is it?"

"It doesn't matter," Felix frowned, "The important thing is that I don't really want you to get close. I can see that something is going to happen, between you too. I don't know. Intuition or something. You better not get too close to him."

Oh. It began to dawn on you, and a hot feeling of indignation rose to your throat.

"Listen. I remember Venetia saying that Felix doesn't like to share his toys, but Oliver is a living person with freedom of choice. However, if you don't like it so much that he started communicating more with me than with you, then okay, let's figure something out, but still..."

"No," Felix interrupted you, "It's not about him, it's about you. I don't want to share you. And no, not "share," for God's sake, what a stupid word. And I'm not even talking about the "toy", Venetia is not a five-year-old child..."

You were sitting on a lounger, completely frozen. No.

"...and still she talks about me like I don't want to share a toy train or something," he continued, "So, Y/N, I've been thinking a lot about you, seeing how happily and enthusiastically you are spending time with Oliver. And I thought... that I've also spent so much time hanging out him this summer and basically over the past year, and not only with him, while I could have spent more time with you. Sorry about that."

No, no, no, no. No.

Felix looked expressively at you, raising his eyebrows above his brown doe eyes, and then looked down, smiling warmly and a little shyly.

Your eyes started to fill up a little bit with tears. Felix Catton, what were you doing? Where were you three years ago, two years ago, and even almost a year ago?

That summer when your parents brought you to Saltburn flashed through your mind, you saw Felix for the first time since your almost childhood games. He grew up a lot, became very tall, his voice became deep and velvety, and the slightly angular teenage beauty finally turned into the impeccable beauty of a young man. You fell in love with him those days. But along with these changes, his personality also began to transform. He was still kind and sweet, but a slight harmless arrogance and childish mischief not so rarely began to manifest themselves as selfishness, whims and some kind of narcissism. He had reached an age when the girls' former teenage crushes had turned into insanity and a struggle for his attention. Felix began to bask in the countless girlish admiration.

It upset you, although you were still his friend, his girlfriend's status didn't seem to shine on you, no matter how much you or even your parents, especially your father, wanted it. But you never told Felix and he never knew. You gave hints, but he was so unobservant and self-absorbed that he didn't notice any of this. It also negated your feelings.

The last hope was the moment when you entered Oxford together. You thought this was the right time to get serious, think about your priorities and start learning to live on your own, but it seems that for Felix this was just an excuse to finally break away, disappearing at all the parties in the area, charming the entire campus, taking advantage of all the opportunities and all the girls that life provided him.

This all finally put an end to your last feelings for him, and you moved on, arranging your academic and personal life without his participation and hopes about it. You finally felt absolutely fine and calm, especially having Oliver in your life now.

And now he was telling you all this?

"It was a wonderful summer, I was so happy to spend it with you as much as I could. And I'm already looking forward to returning to Oxford in the autumn, where we could hang out more often."

He smiled shyly, looking into your eyes.

"What about... all the girls?" that's all you were able to say at this moment.

"To hell with the girls. I've been hanging out enough, what haven't I seen there? They're different every day, but they're all the same in the end. And you're the same every day, yet so… different."

At these words, goosebumps ran through your body, and you almost started crying.

"I'm... sorry, it's all kind of sudden. I do not know what to say..." you would have refused another person right away, but you were not able to refuse him here and now, whether it was because you did not have the recourses for this conversation, whether the remnants of old feelings for him woke up in you, or you did not want to offend him, you didn't know yourself. Also, it was not a direct proposal for date or something, after all.

Felix looked at you anxiously, fidgeting on his lounger.

"O-of course, I'm sorry. No pressure, I'm sorry, Y/N. You don't have to answer me right now, I just wanted to tell you how I'm feeling now, that's all."

You nodded and, throwing a towel over yourself and holding back tears, went into the house. Catton Jr. sadly watched you go with a puppy dog look.

* * *

Fortunately, this situation did not manifest itself in any way later. Felix had been acting almost as if nothing happened for several days, and just in case, you decided not to display any special joy when you were communicating with Oliver. What was gotten into him? Probably, after all, he was jealous of his friend for you, because he invited you both this summer, and instead of communicating primarily with the young owner of the house, you and Oliver began to hang out much more with each other. His old and faithful friend and his new friend, whom Felix was very interested in and wanted to help in some way. Yes, perhaps this was really not quite fair, you decided, and began to search for a balance in communicating with both of them.

However, the balance was maintained during the day, but at night the scales often tilted to one particular side. But that wasn't the kind of thing Felix or anyone in this house should know how and with whom did you spend your restless nights.

* * *

"Happy Birthday, Ollie!" you kissed the guy softly, gazing lovingly into his eyes. He looked back at you with adoration. "Ollie." He loved that name when you said it. You were sitting on his bed in his room, it was a beautiful sunny day, the light played on your faces and was especially brightly reflected in the azure eyes of a man who became a year older that day.

"Thank you, my dear Y/N," said the birthday boy, "What is it?"

"If you open it, you'll find out," biting your lip in anticipation, you teased him.

"Oh," he breathed, tearing up the gift wrap, "I do love the culture and history of Ancient Greece, especially its myths. That's fantastic, thanks, Y/N. Although you should know that this is not your most important gift to me."

"Then what is it?"

"You."

Oliver moved closer, covered your hand with his and kissed you gently. Then he took you in his arms, getting out of bed, and began to spin you in the air while you were laughing loudly. Dust motes in the air were spinning and dancing with you too, which were revealed now by your movements and by a bright light shining through the windows of the old manor. You both wanted this moment to last forever.

"And now excuse me, Y/N, I need to get ready – Felix has prepared some kind of surprise for me, we will be back in the evening. See you at the party! I'm looking forward to seeing you in your party dress," Quick winked at you.

* * *

"Felix, look, Felix, please, let me just explain…"

"I think the best thing is that you go home after your party… It is just weird… You’re fucking liar, Ollie! Why would you lie?"

He would tell him why. To attract Felix's fading attention. He wouldn't have seen the need to lie to you about it separately, but since it happened that way…

"Oh, Ollie, poor thing..." that was the first time you called him that when you heard his terrible story. The only time before Saltburn. Your watery eyes, raised eyebrows, worried look. You hugged him comfortingly. For the first and only time before Saltburn. At that moment, he realized that he was ready to come up with a hundred more lies so that you would look at him like that again, so that you would hug him like that again. It was worth it.

"I just wanted to be your friend."

"Look, let’s just get through tonight."

"Can you not tell your family, please? And... Y/N" Oliver looked at Felix pleadingly.

"Of course not. I don’t want her to be disappointed. Fucking hell! It is dark enough as it is!" he replied, retreating deeper into the house.

* * *

You didn't know when they returned, that Oliver went straight to his room, where, crying and screaming into the sheets all his pain, confusion and frustration, he spent the rest of the evening.

Well, now it was time to try on your roles.

You chose a Hermia costume from a Midsummer Night's Dream – a light mint-colored dress just below the knee, baring your shoulders, a crimson fabric passed through your body, which went behind your back and joined in the back area. You had sandals with small heels on your feet. Twirling around in front of the mirror, you left the room satisfied. You headed on to the party early hoping to talk to Oliver, but you met Felix in the hallway with a bottle of tequila in his hand. It seems he was already somewhat drunk.

"Y/N!" he said, "Ah, you look amazing."

Who would say – the guy himself was an angel in the flesh. Literally this time. Golden wings peeked out from behind his back and gave him a festive look, although the rest of his clothes was more than casual - a white tank top and blue jeans, he looked stunning nonetheless.

"Where are you going? The party is that way," Catton Jr. laughed.

"I wanted to find Oliver, I need to talk to him, I haven't seen him since this morning..."

"Listen, don't," Felix's face darkened, "Just don't, let's go have some fun."

"What do you mean..." you started, while Felix, gently putting his hand on your back, led you to the nearest patio bench. He lit a cigarette and began his speech, "Y/N, do you think some people can... keep an eye on others? And to behave strangely in general, not like... all other normal people... not like us."

You didn't understand what he was leading to. Felix slowly exhaled cigarette smoke and continued.

"Do you remember... that TV show, Big Brother? Farleigh got me hooked on it after all. And so, I thought after that, maybe we are also being watched ... sometimes more than we can imagine?"

"Felix, I really don't understand what you're talking about, just tell me directly."

"Don't communicate with Oliver. He's on his own weird mind and generally..."

"What? Felix, it's not funny, please don't talk about Oliver like that just because we started communicating with each other more than with you. And even more so if..."

Felix covered your hand with his and looked at you with a speaking gaze that clearly insisted on his position. You pulled your hand back.

"I like Oliver. He's a good guy."

"Oh my God, Y/N! He wanked at you with Venetia!" the combination of alcohol and cigarettes made the guy more emotional than usual.

"WHAT?"

"Yes, I saw it myself, as he stood in the bathroom, with a cigarette in one hand and his junk in the other. He was looking at you and Venetia when you were sunbathing under the windows, and he told me himself that he was staring and doing… it... at both of you. I just wanted to go in and tell him that mom was calling him to try on a suit..."

The story seemed both true and not to you, you froze, unable to realize it and even more so to believe it.

"I told him that he had a lack of girls in his life, and that we would fix it when we returned to Oxford. He kind of agreed."

Your lips were shaking, you were barely able to control your trembling and coming up tears. An image of Eddie popped into your head. A guy from last summer, another Felix's friend from Oxford, whom Felix invited to spend the summer in Saltburn. Everything was fine, and you were all chatting nicely, when suddenly they quarreled with Felix because Eddie slept with his sister. You didn't even know it was developing this way until it happened, and it was too late for everyone. And you even thought at one point that Eddie might like you. God, are you such a blind fool? All these events seemed painfully familiar to you right now, but you didn't want them to happen again for real. Not with him. Not with your Ollie.

"Tequila? " Felix suggested, and you silently grabbed the bottle, taking many big sips, "Hey, take it easy..."

Felix patted you on the shoulder, and then tucked a stray lock behind your ear, "Don't get upset about this weirdo, Y/N. He'll come and go, but you and I are here forever. Forget it."

He put his hand on yours again, looking at you with his gleaming brown eyes. But you were not up to it, you pulled your hand out for the second time and ran away with quick, sharp steps, taking the bottle of tequila with you.

At that moment, Farleigh sauntered up to Felix from the other side of the courtyard. He sat down next to him and lit a cigarette. "And I've told you that this Oliver is a little. Damn. Freak," he said, gesturing with the cig in his hand, "Have never been wrong about my antipathies."

Felix, not even particularly surprised that Farleigh had heard everything, only replied, "Yes, maybe you were right...", but he did not say about the main Oliver’s lie. Felix had promised. And he kept his promises. At least some of them.

* * *

You went to the party in the main hall, where people were already hanging out and music was playing. The bottle in your hands was almost empty and helped you not to cry this evening. Although perhaps your sadness was growing into more of an anger, because for the second hour straight you had been scrolling in your mind through the images of previous and this summer in your head. Eddie, Venetia… Oliver… Venetia… You also remembered how nice and quite lively he was with her, especially at first. You thought it was just a courtesy to the daughter of the owners of the house, but now you were very unsure about it. Moreover, you remembered how, somewhere in June, Farleigh hinted that he saw them together at night under the castle window, but there was no confirmation of this, and the situation was forgotten. Or maybe he was right all along? Oh, stupid you.

You walked through the crowd, smiled briefly and nodded to Lady Elspeth, who was dressed as Titania. A beautiful look, but you were not in the mood to approach and compliment her right now, even Sir James's knight costume, which completely did not match the fantasy outfit of his fairy queen, stopped making you smile. Taking a cocktail from the waiters, you stood against the wall, looking at the people sulkily. Venetia was dancing somewhere in the crowd. You wanted to approach her terribly, but you didn't know at all how or what to start a conversation with her. Everything seemed stupid and pointless.

Happiness

And loneliness

A familiar song started playing, the lines of which were now especially bitterly perceived by your clouded mind. Happiness... was it really there? There were so many questions running through your head. How dared he peep on you, on you and Venetia, and maybe not only, and what was he doing at the same time… You were furious and frustrated at the same time.

Happiness seems to be loneliness

And loneliness killed my world

How could you guess, when you're only thinking of yourself

And how you look to other girls?

The bass dropped, and the hall exploded with a powerful electronic bridge. At that moment, Oliver entered the room from the other end. He was wearing a dazzling white suit with beautiful oak leaf embroidery, the jacket barely concealed his bare torso, as he was shirtless. He had antlers on his head.

He walked deeper into the room with a slow, confident gait, as if he was looking for someone. Purple, pink and blue lights from the spotlight danced on his face, and he himself was periodically disappeared in the rays of the strobe light as he pierced through the crowd.

Happiness seems to be loneliness

And loneliness killed my world

How could you guess, when you're only thinking of yourself

And how you look to other girls?

Yes, he was looking for you. Your legs almost carried you to him on their own. But you didn't want to come over. You just decided to stand against the wall, watching what happens next. And you shouldn't decide to do that, because he found some girl in the crowd, bent down and whispered something in her ear. They began to dance slightly to the rhythm of the song. Something moved inside you. But you were already drunk enough to, instead of frustration, angrily come up to the waiter near the "lovebirds" and defiantly start drinking two shots in a row right there.

Oliver, seeing you, exclaimed "Y/N!", immediately recoiling from this girl.

"Oh, you noticed me! Must have been looking for me for a long time?" you remarked venomously.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking for you right now."

Your heart sank into your heels.

"Then who is it?"

"It doesn't matter. We'll talk later, please," Oliver said gloomily, looking you up and down, but saying nothing more.

He went on into the crowd, and you remained standing, deafened by the sounds of screaming music about happiness and loneliness. Soon enough, you saw that Oliver had found Venetia, and she hugged him while he started talking in her ear. She shrugged cheerfully, throwing her arms over his shoulders, and began swinging her hips next to him. Your heart was almost broken. You drank another shot, grabbed from the waiter's tray, and headed in the other direction, noticing that Felix had entered the hall.

"Y/N, how are you? I hope you're having fun. Oh..." the guy exclaimed joyfully, realizing that you were taking his hand and leading him through the crowd to the exit. The crowd did not end both inside and outside the manor – everything was filled with people shouting, dancing, drinking and kissing to loud music. You were drunk too and didn't even fully understand what you wanted to do, but you knew for sure that you needed to go to a place where there would be silence and no one around.

And so you had reached the maze.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY INTERVIEWED FOR DEADLINE MAGAZINE.

IS THAT YOU LYING IN BED IN EPISODE 5, GETTING THE BURNT VALYRIAN STEEL PEELED OFF OF YOUR BODY?

"It certainly is me."

I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD. SO YOU'RE NOT DEAD YET?

"I say a word … unless dead people can speak."

SO YOU ARE SURE AS YOU'RE SITTING HERE, YOU ARE NOT DEAD.

"I’m not dead yet."

LET'S BACK UP TO THE DAY WHEN YOU SHOT THAT EPIC DRAGON FIGHT.

"Well, that day was, in fact, probably about three weeks work, trying to get all these certain angles and these set pieces together."

"It takes a while to coordinate something like that."

"And it was great fun."

"It was a little different."

"The stuff I had to do previously with the big dialogue, the heavy council scenes and the moments in the pub … that felt more theatrical."

"And by theatrical, I don’t mean hammy and stuff, I mean being in theater and doing a play."

"But this [dragon fight] felt very filmic, being strapped into this crane and having this big camera on a long hydraulic arm thrown in your face."

"There were lots of green screens and gray screens and tennis balls on sticks and wind machines."

"It was great."

"It was a big learning curve for me as well, because I’ve never done anything quite as elaborate as that before in terms of CGI work."

DO YOU THINK CRISTON SAW WHAT AEMOND DID TO AEGON'S DRAGON IN THAT FIGHT? THAG AEMOND IS TO BLAME?

"Criston definitely sees Aegon on the ground and Aemond near him with his sword drawn."

"So he can make his own mind up about Aemond’s intentions, which is still unclear even to me."

"I’m not sure the story was there."

"There could be various outcomes."

WHAT HAS IT BEEN LIKE TO PLAY SOMEBODY WHO'S SO BLOODY UNLIKABLE?

"So you’re not team Aegon, then?"

"Who wants to be liked?"

"Where’s the fun in that?"

"I think it’s great playing someone like Aegon because he’s so unpredictable."

"He’s so volatile."

"He’s not just someone who people don’t like."

"He’s a tragic case."

"He’s a complete and utter tragedy of a person, and I feel deeply, deeply sorry for him."

"And I guess that’s kind of why I’ve wanted to investigate his vulnerabilities, his fragilities and his boyishness, all the things that he lacks in his life that kind of inform his decisions, that have given him a certain reputation."

"There’s a lot to unpack in him."

"He’s way more layered and complex than just an unlikable character."

IT'S BEEN AN INTERESTING JOURNEY WATCHING AEGON AND AEMOND BECAUSE THEY'RE OBVIOUSLY BAD KIDS, WHICH DOESN'T MAKE SENSE BECAUSE IT'S NOT LIKE THEIR DAD WAS AN AWFUL GUY. SO WHERE DOES THAT BADNESS COME FROM?

"I dunno."

"I mean, they’ve got Targaryen blood running through them, so there’s going to be an element of madness somewhere."

"I think if they had a different upbringing and a different experience of childhood, things may have been different."

"If they had the treatment that Rhaenyra got, for example, their lives could be different."

"She was very much the golden child."

"She came first."

"She was the one whose picture was on the fridge."

"So yeah, I think that in many ways they’re a product of their history and their upbringing."

"But then again, they’re spoiled as well."

"They’ve never had to work for anything and that can have its effects."

"That’s probably a question for a psychologist, not for me."

WHY DOES HE DISLIKE HIS BROTHER SO MUCH?

"I don’t think he does."

BUT HE WAS SUCH A SHIT TO HIM IN THAT BROTHEL SCENE.

"That’s brothers."

"Aegon was pissed off that for weeks that Aemond has been in the small council and he’d been conniving and plotting with Criston behind his back."

"That kind of clique-ness and keeping Aegon out of the situation for Aemond’s own self-gain, knowing that Aegon would take over the position of King should he get the opportunity, Aegon needed to bring him down a peg."

"I don’t think it come from a place of disliking him."

It comes from a place of being like, ‘you are my little brother, know your place.’

"It’s dismissiveness and also, I’m from Manchester."

"From where I’m from, there are so many sibling relationships that are completely flawed and fractured."

"It’s very normal for me."

"I’m lucky I have a great relationship with my sibling, but it’s very normal and not out of the ordinary at all for you to see two siblings who actively want to hurt each other."

"It doesn’t come from hatred."

"That’s just the way people behave."

[kvothe-kingkiller]

okay I want to preface this with: I am Against gender testing in sports, I believe this whole trans panic thing is transphobic/intersexist/racist/etc, and I support trans women and trans people in general being able to do sports.

With that out of the way, I feel like people just....get the facts straight up Wrong on so many levels with all of this. Ledecky would not beat (olympic level) men in any of the competitions she does. Here are the men's vs women's world records on some of the swimming events

100m Free: Mens 46.8 (Zhanle), Womens 51.71 (Sjöström)

1500m Free: Mens 14:30.67 (Finke), Womens 15:20.48 (Ledecky)

100m Butterfly: Mens 49.45 (Dressel), Womens 55.18 (Walsh)

100m Breaststroke: Mens 56.88 (Peaty), Womens 1:04.13 (King)

400m Medley: Mens 4:02.50 (Marchand), 4:24.38 (McIntosh)

The story is the same if you look up running times, walking times, jump heights, jump lengths, throws, skiing times, skating times, etc etc.

here's the gender gap in swimming race speeds and then track and field events over the last century (courtesy of buzzfeed)

As you can see, they get better over time, then plateau. While it's certainly possible they might come down to 0, I doubt it will be any time soon (Nature actually estimated in 2004 that they could become more equal by 2156 but that was assuming an increase over time that has since leveled off). Those slight humps are from before steroids and other drugs became more rigorously tested.

These of course include the intersex and high T perisex women who have competed and will continue to compete so it's not just to do with testosterone, there are obviously multiple factors.

Ledecky beating men was during practice, idk who she was practicing against (it was a comment made by a teammate and didnt say who the men were) but it wasn't phelps or any of the other top male swimmers. Then when you have things like shooting etc, the main reason that's segregated by gender is simply because more men are in the sport. If you have (numbers arbitrary) 1000 men wanting to compete and 100 women and you take the best of all of them, chances are you'll end up with 9 men and 1 woman. Segregating it by gender ensures 10 men 10 women.

Tennis and other things like that are harder to score up against each other since men tend to compete against men and women against women, except for the occasional m/f double match. But I think it's safe to say that with the evidence from power and speed differences from the above stats, men would likely beat women if you're comparing the top vs the top. Yes, even Serena Williams.

Once again, I am against gender testing. I am against the racist and transphobic shit you see in sports nowadays.

But it is simply untrue to say that Cis men and Cis women are on the same level when it comes to top sporting events. I am not saying women are weak or women are shitty and bad at sports I am literally just showing people the Correct numbers.

I do not know the answer to this. I do not know how trans people should be included without excluding others. I am neither an athlete nor a gender scientist.

However, I do know the rhetoric around this on this site is unhelpful given it's entirely based around incorrect facts (that in straight athletic competitions, cis men and cis women are at equal levels) and everyone that tries to say otherwise is either actually transphobic or gets dogpiled as Being transphobic even if they aren't.

(Also, this is just at the top of the top. When we're talking about highschool and Especially elementary school sports, trans kids should absolutely be allowed to play whatever team they want.)

[amymbona]

more about the hate filled wife Tashi????!!! :333

Definitely 😼😼😼😼😼

She really debates about completely, abandoning you sometimes. Not really in the sense of divorcing you but rather driving away from the courts without giving you a chance to get in the car, locking the doors and pretending she's not at home so you have to stand alone outside, shivering in rain.

She wants to make your life hell, to really make you feel the pain that she's feeling, to give you the taste of that miserable life. It's quite ironic if you think about it, because you're the person who supports Tashi the most; spreading lotion over her injured knee, kissing the pink, scarred skin, holding her in your arms when she rolls onto your chest in her slumber. You are the last person who deserves such a harsh treatment and yet you've earned it, because you play tennis.

As much as it hurts to admit, Tashi is basically neglecting you. She doesn't hurt you physically, hell no, even though she could. You don't know that but Tashi dreams about causing you pain, after having read Stephen King's Misery fantasizes about playing the role of Annie and irreversibly ruining your lanky legs.

Every time you snuggle against her after a tough practice, she holds you, she runs her arms up and down your back in such a lazy motion that you begin questioning whether you're annoying her. What's wrong? Did anything happen? Is it about me? You keep asking so many questions, leaning in to kiss her and massage her shoulders and make her breakfast and run her a bath because, in your eyes, she deserves it. For what exactly? For having lost her career over a decade ago and still not being able to get in touch with reality and get a fucking grip? For dreaming about killing you? Oh, you love her too deeply to realise how hated you really are.

[koffeesfancy]

Sorrel Ch. 1 | Letitia Wright x Reader

Summary: An American in London, you have recently graduated university with no job prospects so you take up a gig at a Guyanese bakery and become enthralled in the world of a regular customer. (shy!reader) (nerdy!reader)

Genre: Romance, fluff, angst

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 618

A/N: I'm going back and cleaning things up. The formatting has changed and of course, chapters progressively increase in length and quality as I get a feel for the story. I don't particulary like this first chapter, but too many people have already read it for me to completely overhaul it or triple its length lol.

It's not everyday one meets a celebrity, much less an Emmy nominee such as Letitia Wright. When Kerry offered to hook you up at her aunt's roti shop, she briefly mentioned a few of the people who happened to come through on the occasion- mainly Guyanese British influencers and entertainers seeking a taste of home. Letitia's name came up and was quickly forgotten. Your mind was stuck elsewhere in a land of bills and visa issues.

Yet now it seemed unreal. She stood by the entrance, picking up a few caramels and bottles of channa from the shelf. At about 5'5, she was a lot shorter than you'd have thought she was, but she looked effortlessly chic nonetheless.

Kerry's aunt Sharmin bustled out of the back. "Eh eh! Mi nuh see yuh in long long time!" she shouted, making her way from behind the counter to hug Letitia. You watched them embrace behind the lowered frames of your glasses, pretending to tie bags of pine tart. Letitia was beguiling. She wore a black linen button down that teased a glimpse of her clavicle with a matching pair of shorts and white sneakers. A pair of expensive looking shades sat atop her shaved head. The gold jewelry on her neck and hands glimmered in the light.

At some point you must have have given up the ruse of subtlety, because when they hugged again, Letitia looked up from Sharmin's back, across the shop, and straight into your eyes, a cheeky grin across her face.

You gathered your senses in enough time to feel some shame and play it off. As you busied yourself counting napkins, a figure stood in front of the register. "Hmmm, what shall we have today," you heard. Letitia leaned against the counter, her hands and chest inches away from you and her gaze turned upwards to the overhead menu.

You glanced around for help. Sharmin was already headed out the door for her errands and you knew you'd be alone for the next hour until Kerry's cousin clocked in.

"What do you like?" Letitia asked, her voice syrupy with a slight rasp. Her eyes were on you again. There was something so disarming about her presence and it made you a clammy, nervous mess. You stuttered through some vague, everything is good, sort of answer while your hands refused to find a normal resting position.

"Oh, are you American?" she exclaimed at the sound of your accent, her brown eyes lighting up in intrigue. "What're you doing in London?"

"Sch-school," you mutter. You silently prayed to die on the spot or for the ceiling concave to make this embarrassing moment end. Unfortunately for you, no one died and the roof remained intact. What's worse is that Letitia kept asking questions. "What are you studying?"

"Is that program at King's College?"

"Are you doing like a study abroad semester?"

"Where are you from in the U.S?"

"Wow, I was just there for a work thing! Have you seen the art museum downtown?"

The questions didn't stop and by the time she remembered what she came for, you'd already stopped breathing for a long time and filled your shoes with sweat.

"Hmmm, I'll take some tennis rolls and sorrel," she hummed. As you turned around to gather her order, you caught yourself thinking you saw her eyes slide down your body. You shook the thought out of your head and continued working. As if an Emmy-nominated actress would be interested in whatever pudge was hiding underneath your indie band tee.

Before leaving, Letitia stood at the door and asked another question across the room. "Oh, and what's your name, love?" If only the floor could swallow you whole.

Table of contents

Next chapter

[enbyleighlines]

I just started LoZ: Echoes this evening. I am very excited to get to play a more traditional zelda game again!

Spoilers below

It was an interesting beginning, having Link at full health, charging into battle with Ganon, as though it’s the end of another zelda game. They even had some energy ball tennis. Gotta love that. I was a little sad to see Link go.

Strange that Zelda doesn’t know who Link is in this game. It’s not bad, it just feels like it might give Zelda more motivation to go save this guy if she knew his name.

I was kinda bummed out to see they made Impa an old lady again. I just want Zelda to have a bestie her own age, okay? But despite this, I am still glad to see Impa here. I honestly wished that she would play a bigger role, considering her importance to Zelda.

I laughed out loud at the King’s closest advisors being named Wright and Lefte. That’s just some classic Zelda humor right there.

We learn that the rifts are not a brand new phenomenon, as I had expected, but rather a problem that has been plaguing Hyrule for many years.

Part of me initially suspected Minister Lefte as the person behind the rifts. I’m not sure why.

So far, I’ve been really enjoying the game. I made it through my very first Dungeon. The map design was confusing as all hell, but it was still fun to go thru a traditional zelda dungeon. The puzzles were at the perfect level of challenging where they made me think but didn’t frustrate me.

I am very much enjoying summoning monsters to fight for me. I have always been rather fond of keese, and I have been taking full advantage of the fact that I can summon a small army of keese to fly around and accompany me at any time I so choose. Other fun monsters I’ve grown fond of include an armadillo and the web-making spider. All of them are my precious children.

I am currently on the search to find Zelda a girlfriend (IE, a character that I can ship her with.) I’m not sure if it will happen, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

Link’s backstory in this game is actually really neat. He’s canonically mute this time!! And he was one of the only children to ever return after being stolen away by a rift. Very intriguing! I hope we get to learn more.

Overall, I am impressed, and I’m excited to play more.

[finitevariety]

have to say I really loved how Shiv brought up the waiter. Does she give a shit about him, or that Kendall killed him? Nah, not really. Will she weaponise it to appear more moral in the moment? Yeah, absolutely.

It's like she said to Mencken: she's flexible. She LARPed as progressive to get her career in politics and genuinely believed she believed all these things--it's easy to believe you believe nice things, when the shit you actually do care about isn't in conflict with those beliefs. But then she wrangled Gil and Logan into a handshake, and she played her card as a woman to silence a victim--and, by shooting the one with her head above the parapet, many more victims--of institutional sexual abuse. She has even hurt herself by sailing too close to the wind in her girlboss liberal lean-in shit sometimes, with her dinosaur cull comment at Argestes, or with overplaying the hand she thought she had at Tern Haven.

She was viscerally angry at having to take the photo with Mencken, and perhaps angrier still when ATN called the election for him. Not because he's a fascist, although he is, and not because she dislikes him--although she does! She was angry primarily because the photo nuked any chance of a political career for her going forward, and because the call for Mencken hurt her chances with Matsson.

Did she ever make any of that clear in the moment, though? No. She talked about fascism and morals and things do happen, Rome. It is easier to wear that cloak that sometimes helps her--the woman cloak, where she claims to care for the group that she belongs to and steps upon its members at the same time--than it is to admit personal rage or vulnerability. That would be hysterical, and grasping, and not CEO material.

Shiv's relationship with womanhood is like Peter Pan's with his shadow. She used to be able to cast it off, or feel like she could, and now it is sewn in to her very fabric: it's everywhere she fucking walks.

She hates that there is not a play she can make that will separate her from the group of women-who-experience-misogyny. And still she makes use of that group, because it's one of an increasingly limited set of options she has. She was never allowed to gain experience--so she's inexperienced, and implausible, and shut out. It's the treehouse, again, Kendall up there playing king of the fucking castle. Shiv must have spent some holidays like that: Roman might have stayed with his mom in England on shorter breaks from military school, and Shiv was left to snotty, whickering horses and fucking tennis, throwing rocks up at Kendall whenever she saw a limb emerge from a window or doorway.

Anyway, if Shiv can't have the high ground, at least she can try to claim the moral one when it suits her. That's what I see as the context for her jab about Andrew Dodds.

[momoliee]

Finished Can Ci Pin, time for a review! [Warning: this review will contain some spoilers!]

Priest…that was brutal. You murdered me in cold blood. That was CRUEL. When was the last time a danmei had me crying this hard?!? I genuinely didn’t think you had it in you to do us all like this😭

To start off the review, I will first talk about the plot. The series spans 7 novels, two of the novels being split into two parts along with the extras, resulting in a total of 10 installments, making it one of the longest danmei novels that i’ve read, along with 2ha by meatbun and tgcf by mxtx. It takes place in a futuristic sci-fi society that exists in space, in a world run by technology and Ai with humanity inhabiting not one planet, but instead 8 whole galaxies (no there are no aliens in this series). I guess the reason why it’s incredibly underrated and overlooked, despite being one of Priest’s best works ever (literally on par with sha po land, mo du and lie huo jiao chou), would be its unique and niche genre, not preferred or sought after or appreciated by the majority of the danmei readers in both the chinese and english fandoms. Nevertheless, if you got some time on your hands, i would definitely recommend you give it a go! Priest makes it super easy and uncomplicated to settle into the world with her incredible world building skills (think of the steam punk universe of sha po lang), and the whole plot literally revolves around politics, war, and the struggles between different parties for power, which is smth that’s already pretty popular within danmei!! and the aesthetics are pretty cool too!!! think spaceships and astronauts!! also there are elements of mystery and comedy and action!! come on yall!!!

Now let’s get into the ACTUAL review. In a world where the Interstellar Union is constantly being tossed around like a tennis ball between the Eden Committee and the Military Council (think of the IU as the king/emperor/ruler, the Eden Committee as the prime minister of the government, and the Military Council as the marshal or commander of the military), the struggle for power led to centuries of underhanded and unethical and inhumane tactics and practices being brewed under the surface by all parties involved. On the surface, there was ‘peace’, peace that came at the expense of others, peace that was no thicker than a hair strand, ready to snap at any given second. Our main characters happened to be born in the century in which this fragile and delicately maintained peace is finally shattered, everything fell apart and no more secrets were kept hidden as all was exposed. The story follows so many threads that priest has managed to weave slowly here and there from very early onwards. The first two novels, priest spends them introducing several different plot lines and several different ‘problems’ and ‘issues’ that she later on ties together into one thick huge interwoven heavy plot in the fourth book. Most readers end up abandoning the story after reading the second novel, feeling that the pace is too slow, everything that’s happening is too random and left up abruptly without a satisfying conclusion, there is no one consistent plot line to follow, and the whole thing feels very overwhelming. However, after reaching the fourth novel, where the plot pace is suddenly picked up dramatically and everything becomes set to motion, it is clear the build up was very necessary or else the whole series wouldve turned into one big jumbled mess. There are time skips within the novel, one in the beginning and one in the middle, the one in the middle sort of splitting the series into a ‘before’ and ‘after’. The last detail i’ll mention regarding the plot, would be that the war doesn’t exist between just two sides, it exists between our main characters, the union, two other parties, and the internal strife between the split factions of the union. so you can….already imagine how complicated and intricate this is.

Now onto the characters. There is Lin Jingheng!!! The Man of The Hour. Aloof and cold on the outside, soft and kind on the inside. Ruthless and Merciless on the outside, a big mother-hen on the inside. A former commander turned mafia leader, his heart dead set on revenge, his body a weapon hes sharpened over the years, his life absolutely disposable to him. Keeping his distance, staying away from everyone, closing himself off to the world, he only ever had one goal in mind and it was to tear apart the union that took away his loved ones. Hes the best at what he does and he knows it, and he will absolutely use himself up to the max. He will not hesitate to make cold and harsh sacrifices, if it means he can logically get to his goal as efficiently as possible. Watching him grow as a character, watching him develop attachments and warm emotions, watching him slowly let out his inner child, was worth it. I absolutely love how the more he developed as a character, the more feelings he started expressing, the more bonds and attachments he started to form with those around him, the more he loved, the stronger he got. Unlike what he initially thought, love and affection and care did not hold him back or make him weaker, it only made him stronger and more invincible, ready to take on anything now that he finally has a purpose, now that he has people he wants to protect and more importantly, return to. An absolute favorite of mine, a true gem. His character is easy to grow fond of, and definitely enjoyable to be around.

Next is Lu Bixing, aka, my absolute favorite. Starting off as the naive, charismatic, funny, hyperactive and handsome little engineer and scientist, neither the series nor priest are kind to him😭😭😭😭 priest, you’ve truly put our sunshine boy through a LOT. i’ve cried several times. tears were shed. Lu Bixing underwent a dramatic character development due to extreme pain and trauma (im still recovering from this) and was stripped off of many of his most endearing character qualities to become a sharp blade ready to take on the world. but despite everything, the seed of kindness in his heart wasnt gone, all it needed was a bit of rekindling and healing and by the end of the series, we had our beloved son back again!!! His character started off well, drifted off the rail due to the harsh circumstances, then came back again, stronger and more mature than ever but still retaining his flirty and bright and active spirit and personality. I absolutely LOVED his healing arc, i love how no one gave up on him even when he gave up on himself, and i love how he came back to us again. Priest truly did his character justice, and didn’t let him off to be this “forever cold and heartless because of my trauma” character, the way many other authors wouldve.

One more thing that i loved, is how priest gave detailed and thorough attention to the side characters in this masterpiece of a work. Priest has managed to make sure that almost every important character in the series had a whole backstory and arc going for them, making you care about all of them and get attached and grow fond, even if some of those characters were already dead years before the novel even started. Priest dedicated several extras to some of those already dead but important characters, and it was the best decision she couldve ever made, making you all nostalgic and sentimental while reading.

Now onto the romance, definitely in my top 5 favorite danmei parings. The commander and his engineer. If Lu Bixing was a crown prince, then Lin Jingheng would be his knight. If Lin Jingheng was a sword, Lu Bixing would be his shield. A relationship that is also a partnership, where theyre both standing on equal ground, where they both need each other’s strengths and talents, where they both trust each other endlessly both on and off the battlefield, whether it be with each other’s lives or with each other’s hearts. It’s like those countless queer quoted shows and movies where two generals or two soldiers go through everything back to back, except this is a danmei so they DO end up together and it doesn’t end up being dismissed as a ‘friendship’. I love their hot and cold dynamic, i love how well they complement each other and how they somehow complete and balance each other. i love how they bring out the worst and best in each other. i love how they always wanna live one more day to come back to each other. Also Lu Bixing’s attempts to win over Lin Jingheng in the beginning were a 10/10 entertainment, definitely had us all, readers and side characters, rooting for him and cheering him on to get that cold commander’s heart!!!

This series will make you laugh, make you cry. There are intense action scenes, complex war and politics scenes, brutal bloodshed scenes and extremely funny and light hearted scenes. Even the romance gets its fair share of attention, the relationship building up at a perfect and reasonable and natural pace, as you grow to love the characters individually then love them together. it was cute, adorable, embarrassing, sexy, angsty (oh the ANGST) all at once!

Would definitely be rereading this, would definitely be giving this a 15/10.

[Here is my favorite scene from book 2 (i hope the humor convinced yall to pick up this incredible series!!!)] :

[foxes-that-run]

Cowboy like me

CLM is a love story where 2 outsiders living a life as grifters meet at a wedding and fall in love unexpectedly. It's sweet, it can be viewed as a Haylor metaphor for 2 celebrities finding love when they weren't looking. Suburban Legends is very similar to this interpretation.

Lyrics

And the tennis court was covered up With some tent-like thing And you asked me to dance But I said, "Dancing is a dangerous game" Oh, I thought This is gonna be one of those things Now I know I'm never gonna love again

A marquee on a tennis court sounds like they are at a wedding. An alternative interpretation could be that Taylor is referring to when she had a Trampoline on her Tennis Court and wrote Everything Has Changed, 20 May 2012 when she and Harry got back together.

Dancing is a dangerous thing indicates they have chemistry and are trying to avoid being together. As in Delicate and So it Goes Taylor physical touch risks their relationship escalating

Taylor and Harry were both at Ed Sheeran’s wedding in a marquee, circus tent like thing in Suffolk, 7 September 2019. Taylor then went to Paris to record City of Lover 9 September, while Joe in Toronto. Harry MIA 2 - 12 September, other than wedding reports. Thanks @cntfightmydemonsthyknowhowtoswim for help with these dates

I've got some tricks up my sleeve Takes one to know one You're a cowboy like me Never wanted love Just a fancy car Now I'm waiting by the phone Like I'm sitting in an airport bar You had some tricks up your sleeve Takes one to know one

Similar to in Suburban Legends where she “Didn’t come here to make friends / we were born to be suburban legends / when you hold me it holds me together” Taylor feels she loves her muse is not reciprocated. But she is now waiting by the phone.

She identify’s the muse as Harry who has an expensive car collection, she often refers to him as driving. Taylor used Harry’s cars to differentiate him from Joe in King of my Heart.

You're a cowboy like me Perched in the dark Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear Like it could be love I could be the way forward Only if they pay for it

Taylor and her muse are the same, to me 'cowboy like me' is a metaphor for them having the same job.

As in many Haylor songs this has commodified their love life, here the Rich folk (executives and fanbase) pay for it

You're a bandit like me Eyes full of stars Hustling for the good life Never thought I'd meet you here It could be love We could be the way forward And I know I'll pay for it

Taylor has found love in this unlikely place of industry networking but here she knows she will pay for that love. This price is emotional and the backlash she described in Slut! She also sings about not coming here for love in Suburban Legends

And the skeletons in both our closets Plotted hard to **** this up And the old men that I've swindled Really did believe I was the one And the ladies lunching have their stories about When you passed through town But that was all before I locked it down

Skeletons are secrets, here they are sentient, able to plot to mess it up. This is perhaps people with secret dealings or relationships.

On reputation Taylor referred to her other lovers as older than Harry, the youngest. (Ready for it?) and older men as playthings (don’t blame me). Taylor is saying the older men she’s dated have never had her heart but his muse does/

I hear the ladies who lunch as fans and media, gossip about them both. In Now that we don’t talk and Is it over now? Hearing rumours of her muse dating others was a problem, however she’s now locked it down and she is not a problem. This may be that she and her muse have reached an accord on this.

Now you hang from my lips Like the Gardens of Babylon With your boots beneath my bed Forever is the sweetest con

There is no evidence Gardens of Babylon existed so historians question if it is real or myth. Similar to the You are in Love lyric “no proof, not much” that speaks to the hidden relationship.

Taylor is sleeping with her muse, forever is the sweetest con could have multiple meanings, I hear it as she will be with her muse forever, hidden from the rich folk (us).

I've had some tricks up my sleeve Takes one to know one You're a cowboy like me

Taylor and her muse are living the same life, hustling to reach fame and fortune. She sees that her lover plays the same games as her. In To be so lonely Harry also referred to agreeing when Taylor called him on a trick, his trick was to talk to her because he missed her.

Taylor also refers to tricks in Ready for it “you’ve been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks”

And I'm never gonna love again I'm never gonna love again Mm, mm, oh, oh I'm never gonna love again

Never gonna love again could have a double meaning, either she will never love again because this muse is her forever muse, or she's sworn off love forever. To me, the proceeding verses are leading up to the first, this muse is her forever muse.

[sollucets]

get to know me tag

as tagged by @ranchthoughts, @twig-tea, and @troubled-mind! thank u everyone 💜🥰

do you make your bed? literally never!

what's your favourite number? 52. i picked it as a child and i don't remember why, but it pleases me still

what is your job? i'm a humble lil grocery store employee

if you could go back to school, would you? if i could quit my job and go to school and still have my same money, then yes, i should think so, but that's super not happening! it might be nice to have a second degree. i think history would be fun

can you parallel park? yes i can! i used to have to do it every day to park in front of my last house. >:c

a job you had that would surprise people? i think all of my jobs have been either rather generic or right on the nose for what people would expect of me so probably not. i was a nighttime gas station attendant for a fair bit of college, which could be a surprise i guess? everyone always goes ":0 but werent you scared????" and like, no, not most of the time, but sometimes you do it scared yknow

do you think aliens are real? yes, but real in a way that there are many real things i can't see and don't understand (protons, gender, etc)

can you drive a manual car? i could do that once and probably still can, but it's been a long long time since i practiced

what's your guilty pleasure? as far as media goes, i do my very best not to have things like this. if i feel bad about liking it i generally do not like it for very long. i would say the closest is being into kpop, but it's not like i keep that a secret, i just dont really want to engage with kpop fandom, so i dont often post or talk about it publicly. a real guilty pleasure is that i like cherry pepsi too much

tattoos? i have one; he's on my left forearm & he's an abstract little spaceman with a fern for a head. i call him my cosmonaut. i have plans for more but i never have the time or money lately

favorite color? we know this one already surely. 💜

favorite type of music? ohh, i don't like to discriminate hehe. my very favoritest songs usually have fun harmony or funky rhythms, though, and it's best if i can sing along

do you like puzzles? sure! i used to have a book of fairy puzzles when i was a kid that i love dearly even now

any phobias? i am afraid of all bugs, but i can be a grownup about most kinds of them. i Cannot be a grownup about moths or centipedes, which i am terrified of (using those words will cause this post to be filtered for me on tumblr). i try not to kill them if i can avoid it, since it isnt their fault i'm like this, but i,,, i really can't, i'm useless if i see one. when id find centipedes in my room at my last house i wouldnt be able to sleep.

favorite childhood sport? i did tennis all of middle and high school, explicitly because of ryoma echizen prince of tennis lol. i was on varsity! i also figure skated as a kid. both are still fun when i get the chance

do you talk to yourself? oh yes all the time. i keep odd hours so i used to accidentally wake my roommate cause i just kind of absentmindedly chatter abt everything

what movies do you adore? i am not really a movie person if i'm perfectly honest; i don't watch them often as an adult. from my childhood my favorite movies were kenneth branagh much ado about nothing, the princess bride, pokemon 2000, and return of the king

coffee or tea? neither, i dont like most hot drinks. apple cider is ok now and again but i usually drink it cold, and im horribly picky about hot chocolate

first thing you wanted to be growing up? i changed this answer all the time as a kid and i have records of me doing so in my old notebooks lol! answers i know about include "pilot", "author", "dragon", and "eowyn"

this one seems like it might be a little personal so im shy to tag people hehe. go ahead and put me down if you want to do it though; i will be happy to know :)

[batsplat]

holgieee... *head in hands* i don't have anything to contribute but i remember the brief period when he was considered a better prospect than sinner (remember when he won paris masters by beating 50 billion top 10 players? was it 2022? rlly feels like it happened 50 yrs ago... anyways and then he made 2 masters finals back to back(?) like crazy stuff rlly) and ofc there was the also just as briefly the whole new big 3 marketing thing w/ him, alcaraz and sinner because this sport has an unhealthy obsession w/ the number 3 for whatever reason. And ofc as the easily influenced person i am i was fully convinced by the marketing, like this is the future + i can't end up hating all the dominating players like i did w/ the actual big 3 so i shld invest!! then ofc i invested in the flop one... oops. joining u in the failed glory hunter box ig.

also random unrelated dasha fan anecdote but i remember i was trying to defend her play-style once (unfortunately a common occurrence) and somehow at one point one of my arguments was smthing like well maybe some of us enjoy watching double faults at 130 km/h.. anyways love my double fault king and queen.

anyways as always i love your tennis posts (and motogp posts too ofc) so much because sometimes i'm srsly like why do i watch tennis? like watching sports is a choice! its supposed to fun! so why am i constantly screaming, crying throwing up over tennis when i cld just stick to recreationally playing it poorly and have a much less stressful time? but reading your posts about the uniqueness of tennis as a sport, the rivalries, the psychological drama of it all im just like yeah.. yeah! thats why i choose to watch tennis and suffer. anyways all this is to say is although i ofc love all your posts (reading ur revolutionary girl utena posts, nodding and being like i rlly need to start that show... its been on my to watch list for yrs but my inability to start a new show-itis also hit at arnd the same time soo oops.. but also ur posts abt it are so good and i rlly need to get arnd to watching it..), i get especially excited when i see a tennis post because the way you can somehow eloquently put all the feelings i have abt it into words, so much so i just start nodding like a bobblehead every time i read one of them.

anyways this was supposed to be a short holger commiseration ask, idk how it got so wordy... srry abt that lol

no no pls never apologise. apart from anything else idt I could ever reasonably accuse anyone else of being wordy

yeah that 2022 paris run was life changing... I need to go back and watch some of the matches actually, the wawrinka win was deeply deeply satisfying and yeah then all the top ten wins... the djokovic match in particular. incredible. just felt like until around 2023 rg he had all the momentum going his way. I've actually been a long time sinner believer in that I always thought he'd Make It, which unfortunately is a belief that has aged extremely well. with rune I just kinda looked at the game and figured that besides a nasty cramping habit, it was kind of too good to not come off? I kinda feel like with many of the nextgen players who have ended up not being what they were billed as, you can point to something quite firm that's just *off* about their game. zverev for instance you kinda knew even around 2019-20-ish that the forehand really wasn't what it was supposed to be... I just think with men's tennis unfortunately it's so optimised by now that if you have any major technical deficiency, it will come to get you. obviously there's still variance with the playstyles at the top but you kinda need your bread and butter stuff - forehand has to be a weapon (zverev), backhand can't be a major weakness (berrettini, faa, tsitsipas), serve needs to be giving you enough free points and the second serve can't be a liability (rublev), and quite frankly your return has to be elite (all of the above bar zverev). also your movement needs to not suck (fritz). obviously medvedev is in a bit of a weird zone on his own where he's arguably Made It but also not made it in that way, and you could say that he himself falls short in several of these categories... but that was always his magic, right

and my thing is with rune I STILL think he does have all the fundamentals in place. there's nothing *technically* off about the serve or return, the backhand's a thing of beauty and the forehand... well, it's not bad enough you feel that it should be terminal. in 2022 and early 2023, it felt like he had so much to his game that if anything he had too many options and hadn't really figured out what kind of player he needed to be to win. I still remember that rome 2023 final with med so clearly where you could see quite visibly and drastically how he completely reshuffled his playstyle every few games upon receiving coaching - and it was such a radical shift that it must have been really tricky to play against. and he was getting a lot out of his tactics to just hang in points for as long as he could!! especially obviously against an opponent not renowned for generating his own pace, in particular on sluggish clay. that day, he didn't have the legs to fight it out... but it also still felt he had that Magic Touch about him. that ineffable factor that allows you to take all those top ten wins in a row in a masters, that odd extra something that makes it feel stupid to bet against a player until they're actually down and out. that belief you have with the big three or sinner/alcaraz that they just will find SOME way to win a match, even when they have no right to. and I suppose my belief in that should have already been fraying given he'd lost two tight matches to rublev at ao/monte carlo but. well. idk you could still blame the legs, still conclude it wasn't THAT consequential a loss

and he did have that magic touch!! him plus medvedev were basically the only show in town in men's tennis for the clay season pre-roland garros that year. rune's match against sinner at monte carlo (take me backkkk), that crazy one against bvdz in the munich final, the loss to foki in madrid with the 'personally I have nothing against the spanish people' thing, that crazy djokovic match in rome, the crazy ruud match, the medvedev match... idk there was just something so FUN about that, this guy who clearly is extremely talented but also an incredibly obnoxious brat who keeps getting involved in these stupid matches involving stupid drama... it was fantastic! ultimately the most depressing way you can look at it is that he's too interesting for current men's tennis. he's not got the discipline on the court and then he keeps having endless endless coaching drama off it... his head isn't on straight enough for this sport, and also he's not been treating his body well enough. unfortunately, this might just be the sport of the sinner's of this world... extremely disciplined, hard-working, unemotional, robotic. lacking in personality. not interested in much outside of the sport. no angst. quasi-disinterested, which is how I'd also describe myself with him at the top of the sport

anyway yeah! tennis! tbh I've massively disinvested myself in men's tennis since the start of the year - I actually think that sinner quote about sitting in the aeroplane back from ao and thinking about what he could have done better in the first two sets of the final kinda helped because it just definitively broke something in me - but obviously I'll never stop following it entirely. and women's tennis has been amazing for me this year because the girlies who could give me med-level anxiety have completely fallen off the radar with injuries, so I've just been able to enjoy the top level of the sport in like. a partisan way but not painfully heartbreakingly so. and I do think it's a special sport!! and I mean... thank god it's possible for players like dasha to actually have a high level career in wta tennis, like man what if I want to watch ultra-pushers without a serve do well. what then. it'll always be MY sport in the way nothing else is. I wish that the actual current sport, the current professional state of affairs, would give me more to work with... but in terms of raw potential, I really do think there's nothing that's quite like it. I wasn't ever planning on talking about tennis on here... I mean god knows, I wasn't even really planning on talking about motogp on here, one thing just sort of led to the other. I have like... extremely extensive notes and essentially essays in my notes about some of these things stretching years and years back, which at most have in the past been at times shared with friends or put in extremely condensed form on twitter. it's cool to have gotten a small audience with this stuff!! I'm a big believer in sport being Not That Serious but also kind of extremely serious and a fun and worthy subject of analysis. maybe one day I'll be able to dfw this stuff and shoehorn it into more serious work, or maybe I'll just continue putting it on tumblr dot com