#tbh these were just warmups sort of

[areyoucheery]

COMING BOON (LOVE the retro vibes!!!)

[gamesetattach]

In Sync - Part 3

Jannik Sinner x Reader This doubles duo has their moment of redemption. Reader, no longer feeling the need to prove herself to Jannik, is free to prove herself on court. And she does—twice over, actually. And Jannik is her biggest fan, tbh. Part 1, Part 2

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The morning of the mixed doubles final began with a newfound sense of clarity. The sky outside the tournament facilities was cloudless and bright and, despite your very first semi-finals looming even after the doubles finals, everything felt light and possible again. 

Relishing your airy and blissed mood—a stark contrast from the day before—your easy smile grew into a wide grin the second you spotted Jannik at the practice courts for your scheduled warmup, his hood up, stretching with lazy movements.

He looked up at the sound of your footsteps and cracked a slow smile, one that made chest constrict a bit. You’d last seen him too long ago—slipping out of his room early sometime that same day, just a little past midnight—but you felt something in you ease when you saw that his face was just as bright in seeing you as it was then. Ease in knowing that he didn’t deem last night as a momentary lapse in judgement, in knowing that all he’d said still held true. 

“You look like you rolled out of bed five minutes ago,” you said, tossing your bag to the bench and reaching up to place a light hand over the crown of his head to rustle his hair with his hood. 

“I did,” he replied, unapologetic, but chuckling as he nudged your hand off of him. “I’m always sleeping to the last possible minute.”

You rolled your eyes in response with a slight smile playing at your lips as you moved to turn back to your bag, but he gently held you in place with the hand he still had on your wrist. He stepped closer and, in a hushed voice, added, “But I think I have good reason to sleep in after last night…”

You swatted his shoulder immediately, looking over both of yours to make sure no one heard, but you couldn’t help the grin growing on your face.

“Alright. Don’t start.” You muttered, flushing and shaking your head to yourself as you yanked your hand from his already light grasp. He just chuckled under his breath at your reaction, bouncing a ball off his racket and stepping onto the court.

Chris and Darren stood just outside the court fence, Chris nursing a coffee, Darren flipping through notes. Behind them, Simone stood further back on talking with both yours and Jannik’s trainers and physios. And all of them paused to just watch the way you and Jannik moved with each other—laughing, teasing, shoulders bumping during dynamic stretches.

They looked on in silence for a bit, amused and in shock at the stark contrast from how you both were just the day before. Sure, you two had got on well initially, but that dynamic had done an obvious 180 for the semi-finals. Yet now, it seemed there had been yet another full flip overnight and the energy between you very clearly read as something even closer than before.

A knowing look passed amongst all of them. Darren, Simone, and the rest of Jannik’s team chuckled with each other, turning away from you both to fully do so, and Chris shook his head with a smirk towards your physio and trainer.

“How’d you pull that off?” Darren nudged Chris, leaning in to ask, tone half-impressed, half-mocking.

“Just told her she had to talk to him,” Chris shrugged, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sort it out.”

“Well, it’s definitely sorted.” Darren chuckled down at his feet.

“And—yeah, I’ll say it—it seems like they did more than just talk.” Your trainer called out from behind.

Both teams flat out laughed at that, but schooled their expressions when you and Jannik approached. Whatever happened between you two last night—it wasn’t their business, and it worked. And none of them were about to mess that up.

The coaches briefed you both together, with you standing shoulder to shoulder with Jannik—as a unit, as a team. You hugged your racket to your chest, and your shoulder brushed against his arm. He seemed to lean into the contact, not moving to step away when you touched. You bit back a smile and just vaguely nodded at the directions Chris relayed your way.

The warmup went on without a hitch. Clean and fluid. No hiccups, no awkward pauses.

It began with your usual sequence—groundstrokes first, trading balls down the middle before easing into crosscourts. And, even early on into the prep, you could already tell you were working together seamlessly. In sync once more.

By the time you switched from start-up drills, your coordination was seamless. He anticipated your angles, and you read his pace. The small adjustments you’d given each other showed up right away—his net coverage tighter, your backhand heavier. You both moved around each other like there was no friction at all—like there never was.

After a long rally practicing strokes back and forth on opposite sides of the net, you motioned for him to meet you in the middle at the net. At this point, so close to the match, both your teams trusted you as players to work on whatever it was that you felt was needed. The last 15 minutes both your coaches had just been standing on the sidelines without any sort of intervention—there wasn’t any reason to today, you were both clearly in the right headspace and hitting well. Playing well, together.

So, you proposed the next phase of the warm-up to Jannik yourself.

"Wanna try drop shots? I’ve got a few tips I can teach you," you said, twirling your racket as you approached the net.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning onto the tape. "You’d give away your secrets to me?"

"Not all of them—don’t get too excited—just enough to help us get the win."

You demonstrated a few sequences, showing him how you shifted your weight on your left foot, holding the racket at a concealed angle, disguising the shot until the very last second. He nodded, studying your grip, your stance, before practicing a few dozen drop-shots himself. You stood beside him as Simone fed him balls to hit, giving him hushed pointers and adjustments every now and then. He picked it up pretty quickly, which was to be expected, but his delight was clear after he executed a handful of floaty volleys in a row—all of them clearly marked with your personal, signature style.

“Not bad, Sinner.” He turned to you beaming, and you placed a hand on his shoulder with a grin of your own. “Not bad at all.”

You both moved to the baseline to hit crosscourt forehands side by side after that, concluding the warm-up’s net work, walking back with lingering smiles. Chris stepped in diagonally across the net to hit balls for you as Simone did the same for Jannik, but after a few reps Jannik signalled for both of them to pause. 

“I show you something?” He asked, already walking over to you.

You nodded to him and so he stepped close, his hands landing at your waist to guide you back to a semi-open stance—not rough, but fingers firmer than necessary. His hands then dropped ever so slightly to hold your hips, and his thumbs brushed a little too slow at the top of your skirt’s waistband. 

“Try to get more power from here, like this,” he said, his voice lower now, the warmth of his body unmistakable against your side. He shifted your hips for you to come square to the net before pulling them back again to repeat the motion. “You’re already there and doing it, but just snap faster. Feel that”

Your brain was just a little delayed in filtering his words, focusing on his touch more than anything—you followed what he was saying well enough, but the contact had sent a spark skimming straight up your spine. And when he spoke, the press of his chest just barely grazed your shoulder. It was too much and not enough all at once.

“Feel that?” He asked. You finally turned your neck to nod towards him and saw, though his voice sounded neutral and matter-of-fact enough, he was smirking at you.

You weren’t about to let him have it, so you blinked away your dazed state and nodded sensibly. “All in the hips, got it.”

His grasp lifted just the slightest bit so you could practice the pivot motion without his guidance, though his palms still hovered over your hips, radiating a heat onto your waist that seemed to travel down between your thighs. He was close enough that you could feel his nod of approval.

“Just like that.” He said and you swallowed, but at the same time, you had to roll your eyes. He knew. 

He knew what he was doing—not that it wasn’t working… 

You glanced up and saw your teams weren’t looking in your direction at all, they were huddled around Chris’s phone watching something intently, maybe avoiding you both on purpose. So you decided it was safe for you to leave Jannik flustered now, and tilted just enough so that you grazed up against him. You heard his breath stall a little and smiled, arching back ever so slightly to apply just a little more pressure for a moment, teasing, before straightening to come up out of the open stance entirely.

“Just like that.” You said as you turned to face him, smiling innocently, his hands still on you. “Thanks Jannik.”

He smiled, but his voice came out dry. “Of course.”

You raised a goading brow at him, still smiling, and he shook his head at you as if to say well played. He lingered there for a beat longer before retreating back with a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth, just as the coaches stepped on court to feed balls once more.

“Your coaching methods may be questionable,” you called after him, smirking. “But it is good advice, I’ll admit."

His head stayed facing forward as the balls started coming towards you both again, but you heard him laugh as he shuffled to hit a forehand. “I try.”

Your grin mirrored his and, as you struck the incoming balls, you did actually try to implement the tip Jannik had so generously offered. You felt the momentum of the snap carry over to the strength of your ball-strike, applying the technique more and more effectively with each shot.

And then Chris hit over the last ball in the basket beside him. You stepped in, pivoted fast, and struck.

It cracked off your strings, sharp and clean. A textbook winner that seemed to span the length of the court in the speed of light, easily the fasted topspin you’d ever managed on a forehand

Chris whistled, loud and delighted from across the court. “That’s the one!” he called out. “Perfect!”

You barely had time to grin before Jannik’s voice came from beside you, praising and smug at the same time.

"That was great," he said, simple and sincere, his tone only slightly lilting with self-satisfaction as his hands ghosted around your hips again for the briefest of moments. “See? All in the hips.”

“Thanks for the lesson.” You shot him a look as you walked towards the bench, small smile gracing your lips both at the power you were able to generate and the way Jannik seemed to be matching your usual cheekiness.

He followed you off court so you could both wrap up the warm-up, stretching out and hydrating while listening to a few last technical notes from your teams. The sun had climbed higher, the buzz and the energy around the facility sharpening as the tail end of the tournament approached.

It wasn’t long before the time came, before you were called onto court for the mixed finals. Rackets bagged, extra grips tucked away. The coaches dispersed toward the stadium, and you and Jannik met up again at the tunnel after your individual pre-match prep in the gym—side by side again, you stood quieter now with less banter than during the warm-up, with the required focus of the match starting so soon, but the silence between you this time was comfortable and relaxed.

The final was set in the larger of the secondary stadiums, a much bigger arena compared to where you’d played the earlier mixed rounds on. The crowd was already buzzing, seats filled to the brim despite being before noon, an off time for the less popular category—fans were showing out for their favorite players, and their newest, favorite duo.

Jannik being the number one and playing as well as he did, as well as he always did, made it so the spectators started off in high spirits and large numbers. You were newer to the scene, but already a fan favorite with your trademark theatrics—so though your persona may have been polarizing, those who loved you loved you.

But the two of you together, that had become the show in itself. 

Your last few rounds playing together had amassed quite the chatter, seeing you mixed doubles matches had been nothing short of spectacular so far—even the disastrous semi-final was a spectacular failure that barely managed to end in a win.

So the noise of the crowd surrounded you, drowning out even your own, loud pre-match thoughts as you stood beside Jannik at the opening of the tunnel. But then his shoulder brushed yours and you looked up to find his eyes were already on you, gaze as calm as ever. It was like none of it touched him. The stable hum of his presence radiated off of him and washed over you, settling in your chest—steadying the thrum of your heart and deafening the spiral in your head.

“Ready?” he asked, his face was passive but his eyes and voice were warm.

You gave him a slow grin, nodding. “Let’s find out.”

And then your names were announced.

The cheers immeadiately peaked—sharp, layered, and overwhelming. And it wasn’t just a hum of excitement like other matches, but a full-force roar. Whistles, clapping, the deep swell of crowd energy moving in waves. The kind of volume that hit your chest before your ears, that buzzed through your sneakers into the bones of your legs. Flags waved in the stands. Cameras flashed. Your name and Jannik’s echoed in pockets of cheers as you stepped into the light.

You were ready for it though—taking it in, not in fear, but in scope. This wasn’t just another match. Wasn’t just some show. This was the finals. 

The word redemption flashed across your mind. Redemption for the last match, for your performance and for your poor sportsmanship. Today you were to play with Jannik. As a team.

The introductions, the photos, it all passed by you. Unconscious, routine motions as you readied your headspace. The coin landed in your favor, and you just nodded at Jannik—you were both on the same page. 

Your grip on your racket tightened by instinct as you walked to your place on the court, a flicker of healthy, familiar pressure curling in your stomach. Jannik placed a hand on your shoulder as he passed, gentle and brief, a silent message. We’ve got this.

Your breath evened out, all else in view but the court seemed to blur in your periphery and the sounds of the stadium seemed to dull as the ball was bounced for service. 

Then the match started. 

And that rhythm? Between you and Jannik? It was back. And it showed instantly.

---

From the first point, the crowd energy pressed in from all sides—constant, crackling, alive. Each bounce of the ball sounded sharper against the sea of low murmurs and rising anticipation. You could feel every collective breath held, every gasp when a rally extended longer than expected. When a point ended, the cheers surged so loud it felt palpable.

You and Jannik moved through each game like a sort of tide—a natural push and pull. Your first rally alone had the audience teetering forward in their seats. His serve snapped through the air, and you exploded forward at the first read of the return. You called your switches with sharp, clear commands. He responded with instinct. When he stepped in for a volley, you already knew which angle to cover. When you rushed the net, he anchored behind you, ready to absorb the return. Your communication crisp, your synergy undeniable.

The rhythm persisted—muscle memory and instinct compounding with chemistry and skill. His serve set up your poach, your drop shot teased out their desperation, his lob chased them back. Point after point.

And the crowd was loving every moment, and they were sure to let you both know.

Every now and then you’d tune in to their sound and it made your chest buzz, adrenaline rushing so fast you heard it in your ears. Then you’d look to Jannik, amidst whatever celebration you were doing that had the crowd shouting, and he’d smile—and that seemed to fuel you more than anything. 

You were playing as a pair again. A unit. Your teamwork unfolded in sharp, stunning detail.

And this time, it wasn’t just some pleasant surprise. You’d worked for it—lost it, then fought to repair what you could, ending up with a connection better than you could have ever hoped for. Maybe promise to be deeper than you would have ever thought.

When you’d come together to quickly discuss strategy and position—leaning close, words concealed behind your hands—you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered. The way his eyes flickered back and forth from one of your eyes to the other, taking in your expression, your concentration. The way they’d drop to your lips, for the briefest of moments, when you’d smile before breaking to jog back to position. And you were watching him carefully enough to know that he’d walk back wearing a smile that looked a lot like yours felt.

Those smiles carried over as you both walked over to the bench after dominating and winning over the first set. Towels draped around your necks, you knocked your knees with his as you took a long sip from your water bottle, still breathless, heart pounding. Jannik leaned back beside you, tipping water onto the back of his neck with a small exhale, facing towards you.

"Let’s keep playing this way, okay? For the second set?" He asked, nodding towards you. “Just need to keep it up.”

“Yeah, agreed—we’ve got that.” You grinned, wiping your face with the edge of your towel before turning his way to offer the slightest wink. "You’ve been looking good out there, by the way."

“Thank you,” Jannik only shook his head, turning his face forward and away from you though a small smile was beginning to grace his lips once more. “You've been playing great, too.”

“Thanks—” You said sincerely, before laughing to yourself at his infallible manners. “And same to you, but… your game play wasn’t what I was referring to…” 

“... I know.” He ran a hand over his face and huffed a quiet chuckle, one that quickly grew to join in with your ongoing laughter. "No, I know."

“Wow. You’ve really been media trained that well, haven't you?” You placed a hand on his shoulder, pouting with exaggerated severity. “It’s okay, Jannik. This bench is a safe space.”

Jannik rolled his eyes, but made no move to push off your hand and he was still smiling. “You’re wasting our two minutes—we should be discussing strategy.”

“Wasting is a strong word.” You cocked your head. “In fact, I would even say I’m enhancing our two minutes.”

He gave you a pointed look, though there was still that affectionate glint behind his eyes, and you shrugged with a smile—silently agreeing to discuss more pertinent things, giving in easily after having had your fun.

“Okay, next set—you take the baseline, I’ll take the net?” Jannik took advantage of your concession, jumping into game tactics immediately, stretching his arm out to rest on the bench behind you.

“Yeah, that can be our default position.” You matched his rationale easily, already on the same page. “But if anything compromises that arrangement, just go for what feels right. Does that sound okay, or is it too loose of a plan?”

“No, that’s good. We’re doing good reading each other already.” Jannik moved to stand, grabbing a new racket and nodding at the chair umpire as they called time. “If for some reason you can’t go for the ball, I’ll come for you.”

You split into a grin at his last few words, pausing your motions of lacing up your shoes for a moment. “You’ll what for me?” 

Jannik furrowed his brow, looking over at you in confusion as he repeated himself. “I’ll come for you?”

You flash him with yet another wink, leaning just slightly towards him as you reached for your racket. “Yeah you will.”

You shrugged and gave him one more flash of your smile, before jogging onto court, and Jannik groaned as he registered where your amusement was coming from, shaking his head with a smile for what seemed like the dozenth time within the short break itself. 

He followed you onto court, stopping by you to bump your outstretched fist. As you split ways, you to the baseline and him to the net, he heard you call out one more thing before the umpire spoke. “Don’t worry, Jannik. You know I’ll come for you, too.”

And he knew how you must have been grinning without needing to look back, and you could somehow see his smile even as he crouched for your serve—catching that unmistakable, charmed shake of his head from behind. You were beginning to love the reactions he gave you, the reactions you could get out of him.

“Love all.” The umpire called out and, feeling warm and encouraged, you tucked the thoughts of Jannik away to the back of your mind, trusting that the harmony you’d been playing with so far would kick in as the set began. 

So you bounced the ball—once, then three more times—and started the second set with a blistering ace.

You gave the crowd a little wave as they roared in astonishment, catching Jannik’s approving glance back in your periphery as you moved on to the next serve without much fanfare—aiming to capitalize on the momentum the ace gave you.

That first serve seemed to set the tone for the rest of the match, because you two played even sharper than the first half. Every shift in position, every decision to poach or drop back or switch—it all landed, you made virtually no mistakes. The few errors that were made, either you or Jannik gracefully compensated for the other in an instant. And both of you were showcasing skills like never before. New ones, too.

Midway through the set, Jannik executed a perfect drop shot—one you recognized instantly as a direct lift from the lesson you’d walked him through that morning. The disguise was flawless, the touch feather-light, and it spun just out of reach of your opponents.

But it didn’t come easy. 

The point leading up to it was a war of attrition—twenty-plus shots deep, both pairs scrambling, countering, resetting. You’d retrieved a deep overhead with a lunging slice that barely made it over the net. He kept you in it with a stabbing half-volley that stunned even the crowd into silence. And just when it seemed like the rally would never break, Jannik saw an opening. He pivoted on the balls of his feet, disguised his grip perfectly, angling his wrist to execute the softest, most devastating drop shot you’d seen from him yet.

The ball bounced once, then died. Before either of the opponents could even run for it.

Gasps erupted across the stadium, followed immediately by deafening applause.

You turned toward him, already laughing in disbelief. He wore a stunned look of pride, half-shrugging like he couldn’t believe it either. You met him at the center with both hands raised. He lifted his own hands to clap against your palms, clasping his racket-free hand with yours after, leaning into you with a grin.

“Incredible shot, Jannik. Incredible.” 

“What can I say…” he started, flushed and a little breathless, “I had a good teacher.”

“You’re too humble.” You nudged him with your shoulder, after remembering to untangle your hand from his. “As much as I’d like to take full credit, that was all you… Okay, maybe eighty percent you.”

He huffed out a small, pleased laugh, and gave one last shake of his head before turning back toward the net. “Eighty percent?”

“Fine, sixty percent.” And, as he laughed again, still walking off, you reached out and tapped his butt with your racket when he passed you.

It was brief, done out of reflex and adrenaline—affectionate, playful, almost thoughtless—but the crowd didn’t miss it. When they whooped louder at the contact, delighted, you stilled a little, feeling sobered by their reaction. Too far?

You glanced back at Jannik, trying to read him—only to catch that the action only had him smiling wider, hand brushing over his mouth as he laughed, shoulders shaking with amusement.

And when he looked back at you, his smile was wide and real.

Your relief rushed in even quicker than the initial doubt did, easing into something softer when you caught yourself smiling back—bright and uncensored. You didn’t have to shrink or temper yourself—not for him, not on court, not anywhere. Jannik liked you as you were, and so could his fans. It wasn’t worth your worry, you reminded yourself as you readied yourself for one of the final few games of the match. 

It was the other side’s service game, you focused in as they bounced the ball before their serve. You leaned low between your knees, shifted to the side in a semi-open stance. Then the opponent tossed the ball for their serve—flat, fast, and stinging off their strings. With such power that it should have made you back up. Maybe before, you would have given space and played safe. But, here, you didn’t.

Instead, you stepped forward.

Everything slowed in your head. You could hear your own breath. Hear Chris’s voice echoing from earlier tournaments about absorbing pace. Hear Jannik’s voice from just that morning, his hands guiding your hips. You’re already there and doing it, he’d said, just snap faster.

You exhaled.

The ball shot towards you, but before the bounce could even peak, your body reacted. You rotated through your hips, stayed low, let the racket swing with the momentum.

The crack was immediate—startling. The ball launched off your strings like a cannon, low and blazing across the net. A return so fast, it seemed to render the opponents motionless. They barely twitched before it landed and bounced again, untouched.

The entire stadium took a second of silence before erupting in audible shock. 

You stayed frozen in your return stance, arm still extended, eyes wide. You hadn't even expected to strike the ball that hard, that well. But it just came to you. The pivot, the contact, the follow-through. It was a textbook forehand, exactly what Jannik had taught you that morning—your form near-exact to the correction he'd made hours ago.

When you looked toward him, he was already staring at you in awe, grinning wide, hands on his hips. You smiled back, before looking to your box to see your entire team on their feet, clapping.

You had to yell. “Come on!” 

“Yes!” Chris shouted, his full upper-body leaning off the barrier. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

You pointed your racket at him in celebration, giving him a dramatic salute, before throwing your arms up in exaggerated triumph. 

Impossibly, the crowd cheered even louder. You spun slowly to engage with the entirety of stands, one hand to your ear and the other beckoning the crowd, as you made your way towards Jannik. 

He was still watching you.

Not just looking, but watching. With a kind of heavy gaze that was quiet and wide and still. Like he was taking a full snapshot of you in that exact moment—vibrant, ferocious, alive—and imprinting it somewhere deep and permanent in his mind.

When you finally approached, he took your hand to shake it with almost laughable solemnity.

“I think that return was faster than the serve.” He said, voice earnest, no trace of any teasing. “You’re unbelievable.”

“All thanks to your demonstration earlier.” You laughed, stepping closer, enjoying the hushed moment with him even amidst the continuous applause. “All in the hips, right?”

“Right.” His eyes practically twinkled down at you when he chuckled. “Just like that.”

You laughed, pointing a finger at him, because now it was your turn to shake your head. He grinned as you bumped fists one more time. “Let’s finish with this power, yeah?”

“Yeah. Let’s do it.” He nodded, before backing up towards the net once more. “Come on.”

“Forza.”

Every point seemed to build off the last, threading tighter and more assured. At 4–3, Jannik stretched into a full lunge to dig up a sharp angle volley. He was too far forward to cover the return, but you read the ball as it left the racket and sprinted across court just in time to send back the shot with a strong forehand. The shot landed just out of your opponent’s reach with a thud near the sideline.

You didn’t celebrate immediately—and Jannik just turned back and grinned at you, panting. “Thanks for the help—nice shot.”

You laughed, the sound quiet but bright. “You know I’ve got you.”

At 5–3, you took your time bouncing the ball before your serve, eyes flicking to his position in front you. He flashing fingers behind his back, and you called out an easy yeah just for him to hear—confirming his non-verbal plan. You served flat and fast, drawing the opponent’s return straight into his forehand zone. He met it mid-air with a well-placed swing volley, the ball just zipping past the net player’s shoulder.

The crowd exploded.

You jogged toward him, already smiling, and he met you halfway—his hand warm on the small of your back, murmuring praise and strategy back and forth.

“Okay, time to close this,” he said into your ear as you wrapped up your plan for the final game.

The last few points really spoke to your partnership, your team work. You both gave it your all, playing with instinct, aggression, and trust. You anticipated the angles before they unfolded, trusting his coverage behind you, and he trusted your reads at the net. You faked a poach to bait a lob, and he was already backing up to intercept it. You lunged and flicked your wrist for a short angled volley, and he followed it in to cover the middle.

At deuce, you both moved on the same breath. Your opponent fired a fast return down the middle, and both of you split your coverage—he cut left, you shifted right. The moment they made the next play, you shouted "yours" and Jannik pounced, slamming the ball into open space.

You turned with wide eyes and let out a sharp cheer, reaching your hand back without even looking. His palm met yours, and the sound of the strike cracked across the court. A current passed between you, though that was constant throughout the game. Thoughts understood with just a moment of eye contact, with every breath. It was almost like playing with a single mind split between two bodies. 

And the crowd continued to feel it. They rose with you, point after point, enthralled by the synchronicity.

At 30–15 in the final game, you two orchestrated one of your cleanest points yet. It started with a deliberately heavy return from you, high and spinning deep into the backhand corner. Jannik stepped in at the net, faking a dropshot that pulled the opposing net player out of position. The ball came back low, but you sliced it down the middle. Jannik rotated instantly, switching court sides with you like a sort of dance—graceful and precise. He got the short ball, angled it wide, and when the opponent’s desperate lob went sky high, you were already sprinting back to meet it.

Without needing to call for it, he peeled off to the opposite side, predicting your movement. He got out of the way just as you launched into a full-body overhead smash that rocketed down the line. The crowd lost it. Jannik turned, breathless and beaming, and held up both hands before waving them down as though he was bowing to you.

“Oh please,” You chuckled, knocking into him to block the motion. “I only got that thanks to your gift of a setup.”

He just shook his head and bumped your shoulder. “And you say I’m too humble.”

“We’re both saints, then,” you grinned, rolling your eyes but flushing with pride all the same.

Then at 40–15—match point—the crowd fell into that electric hush, the absence of noise somehow made the pulse thrum in your ears that much louder. Jannik served. You slid toward center. The return was aggressive, but you were already moving, already sensing where it would land.

Together, you closed it.

He sliced the angle of his wrist for a clean volley. You covered the opponent’s quick reply at the net, right beside him. He slid behind to cover you in the meantime, and dipped to drive a final backhand up the line—clean, perfect, final.

It was yours. The mixed doubles title. The two of you had done it.

​​But you and Jannik didn’t erupt right away. The final point so clean, the win so expected, that it almost didn’t make sense to celebrate with any sort of leaping or yelling—you turned to him, and he was already looking back. You smiled, tired and genuine, and just exchanged a slow, mutual exhale followed by a quiet nod.

"That’ll do," you said, voice light and warm, knocking your shoulder with his as you came together to walk towards the net.

He gave a quiet chuckle, nudging you back. "We make a good team."

You shook hands with your opponents, then the umpire, both interactions steady and respectful. Then, as you split off to your respective halves of the court, you looked to Jannik again—returning to court to receive the ongoing applause from the crowd.

Jannik waved up at his box, then his fans, before meeting your eyes with a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I’m serious," he said quietly, leaning in. "We make a good team."

You laughed, your fingers curling into the soft, slightly damp sleeve of his shirt to pull him in. The hug was short, but firm. And entirely gratifying. Your arms looped loosely around his shoulders, his palm pressing to the center of your back. 

“I know, and I agree.” You said as you pulled away.

And then you both drifted from each other, engaging with different sides of the spectators. You raised your racket toward the spectators, clapping slowly onto the strings with your free hand, and Jannik did the same, the two of you phasing through the different angles of the onlookers. They responded in waves, cheers swelling, people rising from their seats. 

Your eyes met, across the court this time, and you each raised your racket once more, this time to each other. A moment just for each other, personal and genuine—a quiet kind of triumph that seemed to celebrate more than just your win on court.

---

The crowd was still roaring when the organizers ushered you and Jannik toward the podium hastily placed onto court. The gilded cup and plate gleamed beneath the midday sun atop it, and the press camera circled around, their shutters clicking in constant rhythm. You stepped up beside him, leaving your racket on the bench, the residual adrenaline of the match amplifying your every sensation.

You stood shoulder to shoulder with Jannik while the tournament organizer began their speech—thanking the sponsors, the arena, the fans. You tilted your head towards the speaker—actively listening, or trying to, at least. You nodded at the right times, smiled when prompted. But your awareness was split clean down the middle—he was standing so close.

Jannik’s elbow was brushing yours, you could feel how even the fresh jacket he changed into clung to his still-damp skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the flex of his hand as he curled his fingers of one hand into the clasp of his other. 

It was only when your opponents stepped forward to accept their trophy that you broke out of your state to applaud warmly for them. The organizer’s introduction was long over and you, having zoned out of most of it, now listened in for the runner-up speech. They both took turns speaking into the mic, and their voices rang proud despite being a little labored from exertion. They took their loss in stride, and spoke of it with humor.

"We really thought we’d have a better shot," one of them said with a playful shrug, glancing over at you and Jannik. "After watching their round before this and seeing the, uh… the discordance between these two, we figured there’d be a lot of openings for us to work with."

Chuckles rumbled through the stands, almost drowning out the tail-end of the player’s words and only settling down when the other teammate leaned toward the mic.

"Yeah, we thought we’d be able to fight back a little better. Especially after seeing you both literally collide with each other," she said, emphasizing the word with a joking look and the stands laughed along with her, "Today, we expected to take advantage of a little… confusion."

The crowd cracked up again. You felt your face warm as you chuckled along good-naturedly, hearing Jannik’s own, quiet laugh rumble beside you. The other player nodded, sending a smile towards you and Jannik before speaking.

"I don’t know what changed overnight,” The player said, entirely innocently, but you smirked and ducked your head slightly because your thoughts were anything but casual at the mention. “But you played completely in sync—which maybe surprised us, yes—but you both earned this win. Congratulations."

Polite applause followed and, as you clapped, you exchanged a look with Jannik, catching the slight crease at the corner of his mouth, the subtle twist of amusement written in his eyes. You then stepped forward to shake hands with the opposing team once more with a gracious smile and Jannik, who knew the pair better than you did, even hugged them both.

And then it was your turn, you came forward to receive the winner’s trophy together—your hands brushing Jannik's briefly at the base, fingers curling inward as the cameras flashed. You nodded at him to speak first, but he gestured for you to go ahead so you smiled at him and stepped up.

"It’s true. We, uh... we definitely didn’t make it easy on ourselves. You all saw as much yesterday," you began, drawing laughter already. "I mean, at least now I can say—" you glanced back at Jannik with a smirk, "—I can say I was on top of the World Number One, so… Sure, it wasn't in the most graceful way, but how many players can say that?"

The stadium howled and Jannik let out a small, bashful laugh beside you, shaking his head.

"So yeah, there were some slip-ups along the way—on the court, and with the press, too, yeah… But today," you continued, smile growing at the chuckles around you, "I’m proud of how we came out of that. We played some good tennis out there, and we played that way together. And, of course, a lot of that is thanks to our teams—Our coaches set this up to begin with, and I’d say I’m very happy with how it turned out." You nudged Jannik with your elbow, and he stepped up to the mic.

He cleared his throat, blinking down at you and then up at the crowd. "I think... we learned a lot from each other this week," he said, voice steady. "About skill and technical things, yes. She made me better at the net. I think I helped her a bit at the baseline… But also we learned a lot about rhythm… and about trust. We might have looked a little bit—a little bit rough, for sure, but it’s really been nothing but progress."

He looked back at you, taking a moment to smile when you nodded at him before continuing. “We have come to read each other, we get into good positions together. Always switching, knowing when to give control and take control. Even if your close, as a partner, it’s important to be able to pull out at the right moment—”

You had begun giggling behind the palm of your hand soon into his words, unable to help it. If he heard you, he’d ignored it and furthered on anyway, but now a wave of laughter from the crowd cut him off. By the time he looked over to you, smiling but lost, your shoulders were shaking with laughter.

He hummed in confusion towards you, but his voice still projected into the mic. "I’m not saying good things? They’re true, no?"

The laughter of the audience escalated at that. Your hand could only move your hand up to clutch your bridge of your now, and you shook your head amidst your amusement. When you finally dropped your hand to reveal your expression, face flushed but grinning uncontrollably, he narrowed his eyes. He knew that look.

You could see him replay his own words, and you saw right when it clicked.

His neck flushed red, the warmth creeping up to his face . He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck before apologizing into the mic, words sheepish but bubbling with mirth. "I—Sorry, guys." 

“I guess maybe my antics are contagious.” You quipped, quickly poking forward to say into the mic before stepping back again.

The crowd roared, and you laughed harder, doubling slightly when Jannik joined in again. He took a breath, rubbing a hand down his face, you heard a muffled o dio slip past his lips to himself as he tried to compose himself once more before trying to recover the speech.

“Thank you to the great fans and to my team, and the organizers. And our opponents for making such a good match.” He paused for a beat, glancing sideways at you, and his voice softened just slightly and the look he gave you  was so sincere that your lingering smile faltered a bit . "Also, I have to say, I feel lucky to play with one of the fiercest players of today—always playing so sharp and unpredictable. All fire. And, of course, I’m wishing her all the best later today in her semifinal."

You blinked, brows furrowing with emotion as you looked up at him. You had no words, moved by his genuine, public expression of praise and support, though the applause of the crowd would have drowned out whatever you had to say anyways. Instead you mouthed thank you towards him as he stepped back in line with you, and he just nodded with a small, knowing smile.

The cameras flashed around you as you both hoisted the trophy above your heads, smiling at eachother beneath it. The ceremony transitioned fully into the necessary photo-op then, the organizers herded you first into formation with the runners-up holding their sterling plate. The tournament staff flocked around you, the poses all practiced and easy, though your lips twitched a little wider every time you and Jannik leaned in to murmur something under your breaths.

You nudged his side lightly with your elbow as you stood shoulder to shoulder once the others dispersed and the photographers pulled you two aside for duo photos. Now you were both kneeling on the court, the cup set on the floor by the tournament's logo between you. "Good positions? Switching and taking control?... Pull out at the right moment? It's like you were following a erotic script, honestly.” 

“No dai… Che figura," He groaned to himself, before sneaking a glance at you. “So much for media training… and it took me so long to realize.”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, patting him with your hand that already rested on his back for the photos. “It’s only right we both have a foot-in-our-mouth moment.”

“Smile please, smile.” A photographer called out, no doubt needing to pause their burst of photos for Jannik’s regretful and pained expression.

“Sorry,” Jannik replied back to them, before continuing his conversation with you from behind his smile. “I didn’t mean it like that, obviously—it’s like everyone has their head in the wrong place. Hanno tutti la mente sporca…”

You couldn’t quite catch the last bit that he muttered in Italian to himself—they all have dirty minds, he’d said—but grinned all the same. “That’s what I said. Now you know how I feel.”

The photographers gestured for you to stand to your feet again, and Jannik shot you a look as he bent down to grab the trophy for you two. “You’re the worst one.”

“Hey—” You retorted and narrowed your eyes at him in jest, knowing that he wasn’t entirely wrong.

He stayed facing forward, but you could see his smile grow wider with amusement at the feeling of your stare. Your own lips pursed with an incoming laugh, but you had to peel your eyes back to the lenses at another prompt from the photographers for you to look forward and smile.

In front of you, one of them signalled to you both, rattling off quick instructions in his native language—no doubt suggesting another pose. You both stared at him, a little puzzled but trying to understand, before he waved a hand and switched to accented English. “Kiss, kiss.”

The photographer gestured between you two, as if to punctuate the request. Your eyes flicked to Jannik, not quite processing the context, and a smile teased at your lips when he met your eyes with equal bewilderment. “Uh…”

"The trophy—He wants you both to kiss the trophy!"

You both let out matching, breathy noises of understanding and everyone laughed at the deer-in-headlights moment. 

“Ah, yes. Okay.” Jannik smiled at his feet before shifting the trophy to be in between you, at your eye level.”

You nodded, chuckling a little before you both leaned forward and kissed opposite sides of the cup—flashbulbs went off in quick bursts, and then someone voiced that you’d done enough of that pose. When Jannik lowered the cup again, you both shook your heads at each other, sharing secret smiles once more.

Then your teams surrounded you, given the green light to join for a few shots. Chris clapped Jannik on the back with an exaggerated nod. "Beautiful dropshots," he said, eyes shining. "That one in the first set looked real familiar."

Jannik chuckled. "I just learned from the best."

Beside him, Darren and Simone both congratulated you with open arms.

"Your returns were ridiculous," Darren said. "I’m having a hard time believing you ever needed help on your baseline strokes."

Simone nodded. "I want to frame a still of that forehand."

You just laughed, a little overwhelmed by all the praise, but basking in it nonetheless. Everyone gathered in tight around the trophy for one wide shot—arms around shoulders, heads ducked into the same plane.

Through the smiling, Darren leaned slightly toward Chris and murmured, "Chris, we might have just orchestrated the best pairing to ever happen to tennis."

Chris chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "You’re not wrong."

Soon after, the photographers got all the shots they needed, and the organizers waved the court clear of most other personnel, leaving just the two of you behind. You and Jannik made your way toward the edge of the court, where the crowd had already begun to gather. Fans leaned over the rails, programs and giant tennis balls and visors outstretched in hopes of a signature.

You signed as many as you could, moving down the line beside Jannik, who nodded repeatedly in thanks, his autograph just as tidy and efficient in between posing for the occasional selfie. The two of you chatted quietly between fans, and with them—taking joint photos, exchanging light conversation as you signed.

But then your team caught your eye near the tunnel, Chris motioning subtly at his watch. You gave him a small nod before turning back to the remaining fans still holding things out, your smile apologetic.

"I’m so sorry," you told them, reaching out to sign one last cap. "I’ve got my semifinal soon—I have to go and prepare, but thank you all so much. Seriously."

There were good-natured groans, but mostly more cheers. You turned toward Jannik then, and your grin softened.

"Congrats again," you said, stepping in for another hug. It was brief and chaste, but the crowd collectively cooed at the gesture.

You laughed quietly into his shoulder, pulling out of the hug but stayed close, murmuring to him with a pointed look. "We’ll talk later?"

“Yes, of course.” He nodded, steady. “But don’t worry—you just focus on your match."

You smiled at him one more time—more than a little reassured by how easily he answered—before turning to jog to your team. He called out good luck after you, and gave him another wave, the cheers rising again as you disappeared out of the tunnel.

---

It was only a few hours later when you stepped back onto the court again—this time for your singles semifinal. Your first one ever. In fact, it had been a fair amount of tournaments since you’d even made it to quarter final rounds. There was something about this one that had you laying out all you had on court, it seemed.

You should’ve been tired. You anticipated crashing from the earlier high of winning, expecting the adrenaline from the finals with Jannik to wear out. But instead, it cooled off and transitioned into a productive calm and confidence.

So, as you stood at the baseline, ball in hand, scanning the crowd now gathering for the match, all you felt was ready.

More than that, even—for the first time, you felt complete.

This tournament had seen you every year of your pro career so far, and this time around had held some of your most thrilling wins laced with some of most hair-pulling errors. But something about the past week had undeniably changed the way you moved throughout the space. You felt sharper—more assured. Not just in your instincts, but in your presence. You'd been tested under a different kind of pressure, and instead of cracking—though you came very close—you'd expanded. Absorbed the impact, and learned.

Just as Chris had predicted, doubles had forced you into improving. It had done what endless drills or game planning couldn’t. You could feel it in the way you’d been made to adapt mid-match. React, without needing to overthink. To believe in your shots as they were happening, before they happened. 

That had come from playing alongside someone with rhythm and vision, someone who’s skills worked in tandem to your own. 

And now, standing across from one of the top seeds in the tournament—a player few expected you to take a single set from—you were hungry for more than just damage control.

You were here to win.

The first serve came hard. Your return came harder.

And then the match unfolded like a test of controlled chaos. From the start, your opponent tried to dictate pace with ruthless efficiency—striking hard, flat shots that skimmed the net and pinned you to the corners. But you absorbed them, letting your legs do the work, your core holding you steady as you stayed grounded, tethered to your intent.

At 2-2 in the first set, a thirty-shot rally unfurled like a merciless battle. You danced laterally, catching her inside-out forehands with crosscourt retrievals, then took over with a low-slice backhand that skipped just above her knees. She tried to fake you out with a surprise drop shot, but you’d already predicted it and you were there before she even moved forward. This return wasn’t particularly fast or hard—it didn’t have to be-–it was angled so tight that it kissed the very corner of the lines.

The crowd was up at their feet for that one. You gave them a twirl and tapped your tacket against your thigh, grinning wide, soaking in the energy before focusing back on the match.

Later, you drew her in with a deep looping forehand to her backhand, then lobbed her with feathery precision. She got there, barely, and you waited just long enough before wrong-footing her with a fake backhand and flicking a forehand the opposite way.

Your dropshots—already the most infamous ones on the tour—were working more in your favor than ever. Early in the set, you baited her wide with a backhand drive and then feathered one just over the net, so fine it rolled and died before she could even finish her sprint. You heard a gasp from the crowd before they even knew to applaud.

And now, you don't have to rely on light touches alone. You knew you could count on your other shots, too.

The very next point, you stepped in early on the return and rocketed a fast topspin off your forehand, inside-out, deep into the corner. The crowd thundered and you mimed a curtsy, before standing with a wink and a nod toward your team’s box. Chris shouted with approval, and you pumped your fist in his direction as you walked back to the baseline. Even your opponent paused longer than usual before resetting, as if stunned by the variation.

You continued to celebrate boldly. Pumping your fist. Yelling and twirling. Every time you hit something especially outrageous, you allowed yourself to let out a roar—and the crowd would join in with you.

The first set went to a tie break. Your chest heaved with every serve, sweat running down your back, but your head stayed in it despite the exhaustion. You countered three straight set points before finally clinching the set with a slicing forehand. Everyone watching was on the edge of their seats. You’d come far, sure, within this tournament itself—it was plain for everyone to see. The way you’d played with Jannik in the morning had proved you’d be able to hold your own with the top seed, but now you were winning.

There was no telling how long you could keep the lead, though. And the next set would be the most telling.

The second set was demanding, both you and your opponent weary from such a physical first one. She started hitting flatter, taking the ball earlier, pushing up into the court to steal time from you. You had to counter with everything—your footwork tightening, your court sense stretching to cover angles that seemed impossibly narrow. She served with venom, hitting her spots with expert precision. It was at this point that most players succumbed to her skill. But, somehow, you withstood it. 

You withstood it, and then some.

At 2-3, you played a deuce game that lasted nearly ten minutes. You saved four breakpoints. One with a drop shot that hugged the net, another with a backhand half-volley that skidded just over the line. On the final point, you chased down a short ball and flicked a forehand past her down the line, letting out a loud yell as the stadium erupted.

You scrambled for impossible lobs, chased lines, cracked flat returns with shoulder-loaded precision. And then the set was even, and you were matching the top seed at 4-4. 

She attacked your second serve with a blistering backhand return, stepping in to take time away. But you reacted instantly, blocking it back low and wide, then following it in—closing the net before she could reset. She tried to dip a passing shot around you, but you leaned left and knifed a sharp volley into the open court.

The crowd exploded.

“Come on!” You yelled, not holding back. You held a fist up toward your team before dropping your head back toward the sky. When you walked to your towel, you were still wearing a grin, a little breathless from the thrill.

You were still fighting back, and still winning.

At 5-5, she held two break points. You erased one with an ace out wide—your fastest serve of the match—then turned to the crowd with a dramatic bow, drawing laughter and cheers. Then came the next point, a return that caught the line by centimeters. She challenged and the crowd held its breath, so did you. The replay showed the ball just clipping the edge. You stood still, hand on your hip, heartbeat in your throat.

The call stood and the point was yours. You looked toward your box and pumped your fist.

She hadn’t come this close to losing all year, and you weren’t even in the top 20 yet—your opponent was rattled, and it showed. 

So you worked her corner to corner—match point was made up of a stunning rally made up of over twenty-four shots, most of them baseline drives that demanded precision on a knife’s edge. She tried to end it with a short-angle forehand. You sprinted, slid, got your racket just under it—and flicked the ball right by her. She lurched to return it, overextending as she slide, her back turned to the net. The ball came back your way, but it landed well out of the line…

And that was it. You’d won.

You fell back slightly on your heels, arms raised, chest heaving. But even as the crowd roared and your team jumped to their feet, you stood still, staring right by the baseline where the ball had just bounced out. Your breath caught—chest still heaving, limbs still braced for another point. For a second, you didn’t move. It didn’t feel real.

When it started to click, you let out a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a laugh. Your eyes flew wide, and you dropped your racquet, hands to your head as your mouth fell open. You staggered a step backward, overcome. And then, as the weight of the moment crashed over you, you spun once in a dramatic circle, threw both arms in the air and let out an exhilarated yell that echoed into the stands.

You’d done it.

You’d won, and it felt like the culmination of everything you'd been pushing toward. And, with all the improvements you’d made, it really felt like you earned it.

You earned your very first final.

---

The hours that followed your singles win passed in a blur of congratulatory handshakes, rapid-fire interviews, and many, tight hugs from everyone on your team. You moved from the court to cool-down, to press, answering the same questions with the same answers with a wide smile because, for once, you didn’t mind the repetition. You were in your first final. 

You hadn’t gotten tired of hearing that yet, of repeating it to yourself. You weren’t sure if you ever could.

Chris clapped you on the back every chance he got, often pulling you into his chest soon after. Your physio joked that you were banned from doing anything other than stretching and eating, and your trainer even agreed. You soaked in every comment, every cheer. It was the kind of dizzying joy that made your chest feel buoyant and your steps just a little lighter, like the ground had softened beneath your feet. Even as your body registered the exhaustion, the wear from two separate matches, your mind replayed the semi in vivid detail—the angles you'd carved, the points you’d clawed back, the crowd’s roar cresting with every bold shot. You tucked away all the missed opportunities in the match, forever remembering the errors more easily than the winners—you knew you and Chris would discuss areas for improvement at length soon. You knew to still be focused and grounded, yes. You wanted to start visualizing points for the final already, but decided that, for now, you should allow yourself to soak in the bliss of the achievement.

You carried that weightlessness through every moment after, floating on adrenaline and the unmistakable hum of pride. Because, above it all, more than any impressive shot you made, you felt uplifted with how you conducted yourself on court. You didn’t bother dulling your edges or softening your presence, and instead you doubled down on it—leaned into your instincts, your style, your voice. You felt like you won not in spite of your identity, but because of it. And, for that, you felt stronger. Fuller. The ache in your legs didn’t bother you—not when your head and heart were still spinning.

Your team was buzzing, too, matching your high. They’d planned a low-key dinner for you—and it was nothing heavy or fancy. Just enough to cap the big day and let you sleep early. You were laughing with them as you finally made it back to the hotel, still carrying your bag, having gone straight to eat after finishing up your obligations at the tournament facility.

And that’s when you saw Jannik again.

It seemed him and his team were leaving for dinner right as you and yours arrived back. Jannik was just outside the elevator bank, talking with Darren and Simone—smiling as soon he spotted you.

"There she is," Darren said first, clapping once. "Queen of comebacks."

"Incredible match," Simone added. "Great tennis."

You thanked them both, still flushing despite having heard the same sentiment dozens of times over already. They continued to share praise around you, relaying compliments to your team, and you listened idly—nodding and smiling along, your eyes flickering over to Jannik often. 

And his gaze never left you—face steady, intent. Darren and Simone clocked it instantly, and your team had noted your weighted silence from the get go; they all exchanged knowing. Chris, standing just behind you, smirked faintly and gave a barely-there shake of his head, like these two. Your physio turned just in time to catch your eyes returning to Jannik and bit back a grin.

Your team offered their own brief words of appreciation with Jannik’s, coming together with them and hanging back—giving the two of you space with a mutual, unspoken understanding. Darren and Simone shared a smug glance with Chris as you both noticeably took the opportunity to split from the group.  Quietly, the two teams peeled away even further, chatting amongst themselves and throwing the occasional not-so-subtle glance in your way, not that either of you noticed.

He walked you to the elevator, or you both sort of drifted in that direction, not rushing to get out any words. He just looked at you with that quiet clarity of his for a moment, and then smiled before saying, "Congrats. That game was just crazy.”

“Thank you, Jannik.” 

“That forehand in the tiebreak? And all the times the ball landed just a little bit in the line? I mean…” Jannik gestured the small margin by which your balls were in with his fingers, sucking in air through his teeth like wow. “And, the dropshots, of course—beautiful as always."

You blinked before chuckling, a little startled by the specificity. "Wow. You really watched, huh?"

“Of course.” He shrugged casually, like it was a given. "From start to end, of course."

“I—thank you." You ducked your head, flattered. "Really. That means a lot.”

Jannik smiled, shrugging once more, and there was a beat of silence. Not awkward, but full.

The elevator dinged behind you.

You glanced at the opening doors, then back to him, lifting your eyes. He waited quietly, sensing you had something to say and giving you time to get it out. "...I know you’ve got your semis tomorrow—and I’ve got the final still—but... I would really like to talk at some point… Because..."

You trailed off but his gaze held yours, only moving to hold the now-closing elevator open, patient as ever.

You shrugged, your lips curling ever so slightly, rushing the next bit out as fast as you could. "Well, because I think we’d work just as well off court as we do on it."

You held your hands up in mock-surrender. There, I said it, clear and light in your expression. A smile broke across his face—one that read like he knew what was coming, but that he was delighted all the same. He nodded once. "I agree."

You beamed at his words. “... Okay.”

"Okay…" he said, chuckling at how fast you brightened, leaning in just slightly before straightening when he saw your team approaching. "We’ll talk—but, for now, go rest. And good luck for the final."

"Yeah, I’ll see you." You said, biting down the full extent of your smile as you stepped away and into the elevator. “Good luck to you for tomorrow.”

He nodded again, bidding goodnight to you and your team as they filled the lift around you. When the doors closed, you were still giddy—unable to help your wide grin.

Chris threw an arm around your shoulders, nodding at your expression with an exaggerated squint. "You want to tell the rest of us what that was about?" he asked, already laughing with the rest of the team. "You look like you were about to float straight through the ceiling."

You shrugged, but your smile only deepened. “Can’t a girl exchange a few words with her doubles partner.”

“Oh, is that the cover we’re going with?” He chuckled, shaking his head and pushing you slightly. "Don’t ever forget I’m who got you the number one, okay?" 

You groaned, but your eyes sparkled. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

{{{

I fear, and also am excited to say, an Insinrection may be upon us. A sinvolution? Idk, neither of those quite work, but, all to say: What do you mean Jannik has a week before his ban is up, and all of a sudden he launches a girlfriend and a foundation for children. I mean those are the two greatest achievements any one man could ever have, I assume—beside being tennis number one, which… So yeah, be afraid. I am, and the ATP player should be and also I am so excited. Well not so much about the gf part but whatever.

Also, had a moment, because his new girlfriend allegedly went to the same uni as me, and I found that she follows my college landlord’s kid. Which feels like the most random connection ever, but like the fact that there’s any connection at all is just crazy to me. She prob was in the same year as them or something normal anyways, but my moment was me being like: Damn, we really can all be just a few degrees of separation from any given person. Crazy. 

Okay, also, back to the plot. Literally. This is technically the final part of In Sync. But I plan to expand on this specific pairing’s evolution in the future, I’ll put out more about that later. I really like this particular reader and you can prob tell by the way I lowkey write more about her herself than her with Jannik, whoops, and I’ve had a lot of you express the same. So, yes, I left it off on like an almost—mostly because only a week has technically passed since they met and that felt the most natural and right—but don’t fret, there will be more.

Does anyone read these post-fic notes? I can’t say for sure, but I do know I kinda go haywire in these so… And this one is especially long... it's been a while, okay Formatted with a new "bracketing" }}} --- {{{ system bc I was rereading a fic of mine and was like, wow I kind of bait readers into thinking there's more to the story but actually it's just a dump of my bullshit. So, I'm sorry if relevant info or story gets lost amidst all my other riveting? thoughts.

Anyways, here you are, the long-awaited part 3. Thanks for your endless patience!!!! xx

**Maybe some people can rely on Tumblr’s queue thing, but I simply am not the one. Prob def user error, but still. If you couldn’t already tell, this here is an addition I’m making after coming on here to see that my scheduled post did not in fact post. So sorry, because it was later than I said. Like for each time I said it, too there was many, hope you enjoyed though!!

[xnovicexofxreasonx]

THE FLESH

Techno Animal Bingo 2/2

so, yeah, well, welcome to an inauguration of languageshift reporting; little funky russian band man no more lol.

an occasion is wild: in pursuit of finishing my techno-animal-bingo (the start and the only entry was kevin THA BUG martin last year), mister jessie THA FLESH pinkman himself decided to skip the world capital city of CPH directly for over-the-pond-counterpart in swedish countryside (joke on him, this part of SE is not only dk-land of old, but also considered part of GREATER COPENHAGEN lmao). i say "over-the-pond" basically because "over the sound" gonna sound weird in music reporting. oh well. (for clarity: i'm talking about the GODFLESH gig here).

that's some no-cycling route if you ask: not only it's fuckfar away, but also whatever you need to do to pay for the goddamn bridge or something. famous bridge, tho; so we doing the industrial reenactment of bron/broen here (sans the crimes).

so, the train it is: the money for the only early bird ticket i ever managed to buy this year are well saved and invested, multinational journey lmao (let's dream of other potential crossborder gigs we can reach (im looking at you the yearly bigass dungeon synth fest in some damn belgian castle).

day's not ideal of course: the genius move to make the deep study focus days just before vacation and travels make its toll: karma damage for being a lazy ass i guess (the plus side - i'm on vacation ™️). nah, man, not gonna die about it (tho drinking the day before could've been skipped lol). you lose some, you win some.

*next part was composed on the go, so can be kinda incoherent, take brace*

alright, free land of sweden: cheap candies and apparently cheap flags flew by, as we (me) went fastspeed to the venue. it is obviously in the industrial zone (we can sense a theme here), so basically the back stage of a bread factory. almost lost i followed the flow (because address sends me to the middle of the road).

anyway, here i am, first band (what?), the drummer in GRIEF sweatshirt, irreal anarchopunk-vocalist saying "fuck the system or whatever", after the fact - cosy hugs all around (on a carpet). who they were (hmmmmm), what they played (hc sludge?) was little irrelevant to the seeming theme of the event.

was standing by the toilet, it's rocks, you can even listen to music from it!

all the kids went for warmup, olds went for a cold one (meat).

in brief awkward pause was thinking about "techno-animal" again: it's type of a round man (think the kool-aid, but with beard (ohhh yeeeeah)).

public at fist (the kidsss) was basically the malmo-vampire sort of kind of people, and half of them are roadies. and the carpet went away the last!

who are those dried boys? godflesh people, people (not, obvi).

merch check: people selling brighter death now, no wonder, we are on a cold meat territory. but only for sweden money, so that's a no (correction: that was ROGER KARMANIK himself and he gladly received my paypal-money, success$).

the second warm up (what??) was for the semi-olds, i guess (that explains the semi-dries on the stage), i was standing in a different corner - sound suddenly was much better (or was it dyi-punk shitnoise before? i'm kinda both ways tbh). some guys went playing space sludge idk, drummer sure is the high efficiency guy (he had the gloves on), and after losing shirt to the sweat he looks like mma-fighter. they had crusty guy on noises, sending kinda telephone sounds.

anyway, so that was SUMA (no K), local space and sludge, i guess (also doom and stoner), good guy kinda rock music, for serious people, no nonsense, no offence. fans, mostly - were that kind of a man (a male prolly the correct term), who for some reason does not smell like sauerkraut (or paper? or stacks?), kinda poor country probably (or further away from the german cabbage?)

and a carpet goes last again (it is sweden thing).

karmanik was next, apparently, today's line up i knew by it happening, so i grabbed the best damn cider this side of europe, it ain't no fucking galipette garbage back home for sure.

smelly boys left en masse to make place for even smellier duders - it's fucking industrial time!

karmanik brought cello - now that is proper bowel movement music. bring power back (in power electronics)!

aaand he lost power (a power, like electricity). well, that is some power move from veteran industrialist (it was not intentional). somebody call the electrician (nobody can see shit because of all the fog)... and we back up.

now that some cold meat if you ask me. idk man, in my childhood i listened to ATRAX MORGUE like it was nothing - that is the stuff that rocks (your guts and your morals).

to illustrate - entirety of karmanik's set was smelling like farts BIG TIME (no one to blame tho). there was some other dude in that fog that was trying to "play" guitar, i guess, i hope he did.

rockabilly dude and old-fart-iron-maiden (im still working on a proper translation for the name of the ultimate metal-fan) to the side both started to feel kinda dizzy, so they were replaced by extremist from first band (grief-boy) et al. well the set is kinda heart stopping, but for the wrong guys.

while karmanik churned some misanthropy on stage, there came some shady (sketchy?) looking Rost-lookalikes.

now karmanik brought another guitar in the mix - yeah dude, we kinda stretching definition of "rock" here ngl.

now, to be clear, noise not music.

and i don't mind noise but the ethics, so rather prefer more, hm, melodic death worship (sorry where is the train to gothenburg?). (edit: i ment rhythmic of course)

oh, now that's a banger (like it literally banging the air so the pants tremble).

that's kinda music that not looses its allure played on bigass systems wattwise, but also on a shitty speakers sounds great. 'cause you know, it's not music, so no worries.

yep, they (club) can invest in some anti-fart ventilation system alright, it is beer brewing in the air, come on!

also, kinda forgot the ear-plugs, so testing achievements in techno-industrial progress by using noise cancelling earphones (well, it cannot fully cancel that noise).

i admit, it was too much even for me, so i went (swimmingly) for some seat and fresh air and cold sweat yo the chill-out (bizarrely behind the curtain) (it was the same over there) - not gonna have that BRIGHTER DEATH NOW, sorry.

lol so seating and watching dancing glasses, even crust-Rost went for a smoke so yeah, noise. people's faces walking round are kinda confused tbh if not bored (filthy casuals).

once shrugged off the death, i went for another cider, kinda best part of the evening so far tbh lol. alright, time to live. karmanik went in ovation, time for some AI.

everybody knows evils of AI, but jessie pinkman justin broadrick knows it best.

im talking about aggro-industial of course!

recently saw docudrama about grindcore, so our guy was over there, so i was kinda prepared (on the web photos he's always the fresh looking bristol bomber).

i fr thought that GODFLESH went belly up years ago, but that was in my child years apparently, so mister flesh brought mister god (that other, green, guy) back to business (circa 2011) and did sporadic concerto and now here we are.

the man himself (JB) wearing cargo pants (with butt crack possibly (edit: confirmed)) and black hoody looking busy on a stage with cables (your friendly neighborhood cableman), for finer tuning (small letters) brought up the glasses (now that is some grindcore shit).

i me mine, us and them, all that juzz. im a streetsweeper alright, music for a man.

my man c. g. (i.) green looking his best techno-animal-ish - what a turning of tables im gonna say. now prepare yourself to some fine butt (crack) industrial rock metal action! (i hope for some dnb tbh, it's techno animal bingo after all).

most of the evil and/or young public left for doing some revolution or shit, strictly the old fart expo now (and some familiar photoguy looking round confused), so let's gooooo.

now is the awkward pause (justin got cold feet? rain check?), i would say we were waiting for kevin as much.

*alright, writing this much later, hope i remember stuff.*

been listening to -us and them- lately again by recs of great grimbeard boy (together with skinny puppy -rabies- lol), thought aloud "what a weak shit", where is aggro, where is what. would rather go with CURSE OF THE GOLDEN VAMPIRE again (never bad). and in spite i still have respect foe brodrick's shenanigans over all, he's like legend man! however, on stage that "break-bit with guitars" 100% fuckin rocksss. GODFLESH played all the (s)hits (i hope, i know only i me mine ofc), pure mind numbing baseballbatbashing industrial (rock) (metal). i headbang'd whole set along with some singalonging bald fan (it's a bald music after all) and rather-not-so-aggro proud industrial fan, was a good fun no notes.

at the end set seemed kinda longer than necessary, so justin and co just left without encore. well, good for them (time for the olds have some sleep).

after that was long ass walk back to the train in the search of fabled swedish crime (non found), but found some indigenous dudes (pair of wild rabbits).

kick ass.

[heyhellohihowareyou]

Day 14 of Maehara Shenanigans: Kanzaki

Ah yes, the two pretty best friends. Let’s forget the fact they aren’t best friends and haven’t interacted at all in canon 😆

Anyways here’s a funny scenario

One day Maehara decides to go to the arcade for two reasons. One, there’s a couple of games he likes and two, GIRLS!!!

While he’s roaming the arcade, a particular girl catches his eye. He tries to work his charm on her. Which obviously doesn’t work.

When he asks for her name, she doesn’t bother to tell him and he makes a bet with her. If he can beat her at any game in the arcade, she has to give him both her name and her number.

She confidently agrees to play against him and Maehara thinks he has a fair shot at winning.

Oh, how wrong he was…

Poor dude ended up suffering from crushing defeat after crushing defeat.

Maehara: “Look, LOOK, that was just a warmup, okay!?”

???: “Just like how the other three rounds were just warmups?”

Maehara: “YUP!”

Every time he loses, she gets him a bag of chips to compensate. Let’s just say he earned a LOT of bags of chips that day.

Anyways, it became a whole thing for Maehara to find her at arcade, challenge to a couple of games to find out her name, and get mercilessly demolished but get chips afterwards!

But down the line, the girl starts showing up less and less which almost makes Maehara forget about her. Almost…

Turns out, this mystery gamer girl was one of his female classmates. Yukiko Kanzaki.

He either finds out by going to the arcade and finding Kanzaki as herself, not the alter ego and it all just comes together there. Or, Kanzaki hears about Maehara complaining that he never got to know who that mysterious gamer girl was and she just straight tells him that was actually her (I like the first one better tbh)

Either way, he’s sort of surprised but not at all disappointed. Far from it actually.

Now he knows who this cool mysterious gamer was! It was one of his classmates who he thinks is even cooler now!

Maehara decided that he still wants to try his luck at beating her so he still challenges her but this time just for the fun of it.

Kanzaki: “I guess I gotta buy a bunch of chips for you huh 🤭”

Maehara: “Hey! Don’t get too cocky now 😠”

Maehara swears one of these days he’s gonna beat her and he will be the one to buy HER chips! (Even though she’s won so much already that the pity chips will be unnecessary 😅)

[2dkapsddr]

November 27th, 2023 - SDVX EG, PIU 2023 PHOENIX, IIDX 31, DDR A3

I'M BAAAAAACK

yesterday was a sort of test day to try out PIU PHOENIX unseriously, but today is the REAL DEAL!!! got my gamer dance shoes that carried me through perfecting my first pool at MOTL5, my water bottle from the garage that's been 40F for the past month or two, and made my way to round 1 via the bus to KILL IT!!!

but first, it's important to have a good warm up!! and i decided the perfect warmup game would be... sdvx!!! (it's a good idea trust me)

my first few sets weren't really anything to write home about, but i picked it up and got a sightread 15 S as well as... A NEW 17 CLEAR!!! AND ALMOST AAA AT THAT!!!! this is maybe, like, my 7th one...? 8th...? honestly don't even know... but it's a damn good one to get tbh like this shit is HARD

and then, of course, it was time to play the one true game i was here for. which is, of course, DANCE DANCE RE-oh wait no i mean PUMP IT UP PHOENIX!!!! oh how i missed you over the 16 hours that we were apart... and how i love that i can ACTUALLY HIT YOUR NOTES NOW

there's a lot here since i was mostly just excited to play phoenix for the first real time (MOTL5 and yesterday don't count L), but highlights include the following:

BATTLE NO.1 S20 Sightread AAA clear!!! (rough game lol)

VECTOR D20 upscore to 963k!! S doable if i don't mess up some hold stairs...

STORM D19 CLEAR AFTER LIKE 3 ATTEMPTS!!!! THE BEST SCORE OF THIS SESSION BECAUSE IT'S IN SUCH A BANGER CHART OUGHHHHHHHH IF YOU CAN BE BIGA DOEEO NAERYEOOOO

first time playing co-op on phoenix and getting owned!!

quite the fun session, ain't that right kaeps? it sure is, and now we turn to our reporter kapie by the iidx cabs to give us the rundown on the other scores there!

why yes, thank you, it appears this man got his ass kicked after all that pump gaming and decided to cool down from eating something by playing some iidx, where he ended up... actually doing quite well!!! a sightread AA on a 9, a sightread almost AA on a different 9, B4U remix moment, and ultra close to AAA on cinderella SPH-8!!!

okay okay, i got rid of the random news reporters now and can finally talk in first person again... so since i was already at the iidx cabs and still hadn't passed down what i ate, i said "fuck it might as well" and went back to the empty valk cab to play one more set of sdvx... where i got both an unremarkable score and a 981k on Absurd Gaff EXH-16!!

and last but definitely least... ddr jumpscare (survival at the end of the universe AAA finally!!! woohoo!!! i am so happy about this information)

[musicallisto]

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

🍭why did you start writing?

💎why is writing important to you?

📡why is writing and sharing your writing important for fandom?

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to?

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

💥 find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it. willingly ignoring the horrible horrible fics I wrote when I first started this blog, I think my fic with the least notes is for old times' sake (jaime lannister), which is a real bummer because I loved writing it and I'm pretty proud of the end result, actually. I think I succeeded in what I was trying to do with my writing, the setting, and the romance, and it's pretty evocative of a Northern winter night—and how the wilderness in the North reacts differently to Jaime (a stowaway, an uninvited guest) and the reader (a child of the woods). but alas, there seems to be no crowd for jaime lannister angst </3

🍭why did you start writing? there was no reason to be honest. I started writing the moment I learned how—probably no older than five. I used to devour children's books and my mind would swell up with so many stories and ideas I either acted out on the playground with my friends, or just wrote down exactly how people who wrote books did. When I found out about Pokémon Diamond there was no turning back, my brain had seized that fantastical world and made it its own already.

💎why is writing important to you? see answer above (i need to get it out of my system, it's my only exorcism, etc.) but also, selfishly, it's the only thing in this world that I (and everyone who's come in contact with my writing, one way or another) consider myself somewhat good at. It's quite literally my only "talent" (though I wouldn't attribute it to talent at all; like everything else, it's 99% practice), and at this point, especially being an engineering student, my gift with words and appetence for literature are my one defining characterstic among my peers. Me being a writer is quite literally the only notable thing about me tbh, and the only way I can get praised. Actually, nowadays I can feel my self-esteem deteriorating the longer I go without writing.

📡why is writing and sharing your writing important for fandom? I don't think sharing my writing specifically is important for fandom, insofar as I've always been clear about the fact I consider fanfiction a "warmup" of sorts for my personal projects. but writing in general is one of the most crucial parts of fandom and writers, as a rule of thumb, are paid dust. It infuriates me to see people copy-paste unfinished fics into ChatGPT to get a soulless AI-generated neat little ending, as if we were stuck vending machines and not actual people who spend weeks, sometimes months writing something simply for the pure joy of sharing it. Of expanding onto existing lore, of imagining characters in alternate universes and discussing possibilities with other fans, of evoking in the reader the same raw, honest emotions as we felt when we were consuming that media in the first place. Creation breeds creation, art makes art, interaction breeds community. Fandoms can only thrive as long as their artists are thriving.

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to? I personally don't care at all how "well" my fics do on here as long as I get Approved By The Mutuals. 90% of the notes we get are likes anyway so it's not like they mean that much to me either? From personal experience it's just super puzzling to have a fic get 300 likes and like zero comments or reblogs? Like did y'all like it? Did y'all even read it? But yeah no as I said I write primarily for me and for me only. I like the interaction that comes with sharing my work, but I never wrote for audiences, hence why I had no problem stopping posting. There are super personal fics on this blog (thinking of the door to heaven and hell) that flew under the radar but I don't mind it at all bc my writing is self-indulgent and catered to me. idk sorry I can't give more insightful advice but like,,,, don't take it too seriously I think? this is tumblr this is cringe fun

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited! unfortunately I have nothing to share today </3 I mean, no that's a lie, I still have my robb stark fic that's literally been sitting in my drafts since january of 2021 and which I love very much and would love to finish someday. I think I already posted snippets of it before? but here are some more lines, if anyones still a game of thrones fan in the year of our lord 2023 or whatever💔

: ̗̀➛ “Your horse is saddled, my Lord. You may depart whenever you want now, though I must reiterate my offer to ride with you.”

Robb would have laughed if the blood in his veins had not frozen from the furtive hallucination. The grounds near Winterfell had not been as safe in centuries — it would be as dangerous for him to leave the castle than to get back to his quarters. Even less so, perhaps. All of the North was haunted, but its most virulent ghosts wandered Winterfell’s cobblestone halls and flickering torchlight shadows.

“And I must decline again. But thank you.”

She nodded respectfully and disappeared behind the door, no doubt already expecting the answer. Such a pilgrimage was to be undertaken by the King and the King only. The entire town knew as much.

Empty streets welcomed the King as he left the castle on horseback, a few minutes later. The early light of day pierced snow-laden clouds like a blade through a curtain of heavy cotton, and he tasted the wind’s gelid kiss on his cheeks before he heard his town’s eerie stillness.

Unwavering, Robb Stark guided his horse through the deserted main street, amidst drawn shutters and swirling snowflakes; and the steady rhythm of his breath and the horse’s hooves on the stones were the only sound in the whole of Westeros, their cadence an oh so lonely funeral march. ༊*·˚

*ੈ✩‧₊ writing asks!

[drabbles-mc]

Mans was also a solid 6’3 and like kinda buff 😭

They do get the aesthetic SO right. They look so sinful for some reason. And honestly also the whole knowing it’s wrong makes it SO good

I’ve been trying to go on runs everyday and I practically live next to Central Park so it just feels dumb to waste that. Plus I’ve noticed that if I don’t do it first thing I just end up not doing it at all because I don’t feel like it anymore haha

Tbh I think they knew what they were doing when they put that whole look together. I'm not exactly mad about it but I'm just sayin' lmao

I used to run every day, do a couple miles as a warmup before my boxing and lifting workouts, but once work got really crazy it started to sort of fall to the wayside. I don't even wanna think about what my cardio stamina is now lmao 😂😅

[geekyjoys]

Future Seido Positions (an Analysis)

So,,, it’s probably not going to happen for a WHILE in the manga, but I was just speculating with a couple of friends about what the future Seido lineup would be. You know, after Miyuki and the other third-years graduate (or at least retire from the team). I’ve been looking around a bit, and I haven’t seen another post quite like this. If there is one out there, I’m sorry!

So, just to give this a bit of structure, I’ll first go through all the positions in order. Maybe next, I’ll talk about batting lineups and/or Captainship. I have some cool theories about those.

This is very long and very analytical/technical. I would also like to add that this is very much speculation. 

This contains some light spoilers about the matches in the manga. If you’ve only seen the anime, read with caution. It’s not too bad—tbh, if you haven’t read the manga, you probably won’t even notice it—but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Pitcher:

Sawamura

Furuya

Toujou

Kuki

Asada

Kaneda

For the ace number, I honestly don’t know who it could go to. Both Sawamura and Furuya are nearing peak performance. I think Sawamura has a stronger chance because he seems like the “ace figure” and can inspire the team naturally. Though Furuya’s pitching is arguably stronger and more overwhelming, I just don’t get the same vibe. This is me looking at both the anime and the manga; Sawamura’s pitching seems to inspire better batting and base-running (like in the games against Norikane and Seihou where his pitching caused the batters to perform better).

Toujou is finally getting acknowledged by the coach as a pitcher and I’m so happy for him! As for Kuki and Asada, I’m thinking that something similar will happen to them—they’ll probably be put in the outfield due to their strong arms and dependable aim while they develop more as pitchers. Both left and right field are covered by third-years, so I can see Kuki and Asada taking over those positions, while also occasionally covering for center field whenever Toujou pitches.

Kaneda is currently #18 on the roster, and usually plays right field. We haven’t gotten much development about him, but he is on the first-string, and he has played a few innings as a reserve pitcher.

Also, just a note, we actually have enough pitchers to fulfill the six-man rotation system that is generally used in the NPB! Not pertinent by any means, but still kinda cool.

Catcher:

Okumura

Yui

Kariba

I don’t think Kariba is going to get #2 after Miyuki leaves. It sounds harsh to say, and he’s such a sweet boi (Season 2, episode 22 when he cried after Sawamura learned the changeups) but he doesn’t stand out at all. Neither the manga nor the anime are giving him focus, and he doesn’t have any special skills.

For Okumura and Yui, I think it depends on who becomes the ace. Okumura was developed as sort of the “next Miyuki”. He has the “thinking baseball”, with his ability to come up with intense strategies that utilize the whole team. He is also a very talented catcher, and can catch both Furuya and Sawamura’s pitches (usually) on the first try. I think he would be the perfect catcher to lead an Ace Sawamura’s wide range of numbers.

Yui, on the other hand, isn’t as naturally gifted as Okumura when it comes to catching. He struggles a bit with Furuya’s pitches and is considered “too short” to be a professional ball player. But his strength lies in his leadership. Not necessarily in game-calling, but over the whole team. He was the captain of Japan’s Representative team in the Little League World Series. He’s probably going to be the captain after the current second-years graduate. I think he’ll be the main catcher if Furuya’s the ace. Like I said before, Furuya doesn’t seem to have the natural leadership like Sawamura does. I think Yui’s talent in that aspect will make up for Furuya’s lack.

First Baseman:

Yuuki

Asada (??)

This one was honestly difficult. The first base is covered only by third-years, and none of the underclassmen (at least, from my memory, and from perusing the fandom Wiki) play the same position. I think Yuuki is a solid bet because his brother played the same position. Asada might also cover the position because he’s tall and throws with his left, which are both ideal qualities for a first baseman.

Of course, a new first-year might come in with stellar abilities who makes it onto first-string immediately, but that’s purely speculation.

Second Baseman:

Kominato (Haruichi)

Seto

Takatsu (??)

Haruichi’s got this position. Seto’s proven himself a capable batter, base-runner, and baseman overall, but Haruichi’s got those as well. Secondly, he’s the senior player, and already has trust built-up with the other teammembers. He’s proven himself reliable.

Takatsu plays shortstop but I just put him here for shits and giggles. He’s also branching out to other positions, like third (and I believe something in outfield as well??). Second isn’t too different from SS, though I don’t know if he’d be agile enough for it.

Third Baseman:

Kanemaru

Takatsu

Kanemaru’s the only player we really know of that can play third base reliably. There’s one first-year listed as a third baseman, but we don’t know much about him yet.

Like I said previously, Takatsu’s been branching out of playing SS. During practice fielding drills, he joined Kanemaru and Higasa on the third-base.

Shortstop:

Seto

Takatsu

Ok, so, I know Seto’s a second baseman. But from the way he’s being developed, it really seems like Terajima-sensei’s building him up to be the next Kuramochi. He’s a decent batter, a really smart and fast baserunner, and has amazing synergy with the catcher. I think he’d form a great cornerstone-duo with Haruichi, as well as be a great leadoff batter to replace Kuramochi.

Shifting from second base to shortstop isn’t too complex, especially with young teenagers who haven’t gotten completely used to their positions yet, and have an easier time learning how to do new things. SS requires someone fast, someone with a good arm, and someone with a good relationship with the second baseman. We’ve already seen Seto during a practice match, and he’s already started to develop a relationship with Haruichi. If you recall, during those “hangout sessions in Miyuki’s room”, Haruichi and Seto were both called “gaming gods/devils” and challenged one another to a video game match.

Takatsu is the upperclassman here, but he hasn’t gotten nearly as much development as Seto has—at least when it comes to relationships with other characters and overall play/style analysis.

Left Fielder:

Yuuki

Kuki

Yui or Okumura (??)

Yuuki’s the only one that currently plays left field besides the pitchers. I don’t think Seido would want to tire out the better part of their pitching relay before they even get on the mound, so the reserves will probably be filled by an incoming first-year. Unless I’m missing something.

Kuki is a pitcher, so he could probably use his arm really well in this position. And mostly just because I don’t have anyone else to put here.

I think it’s also possible that Yui or Okumura fill this position when they’re not playing catcher. The ball often goes to left field a little less than the other positions because batters tend to pull the ball the way they bat (ie, right-handed batters will usually pull the ball to right-field, and there are more right-handed batters than left). For this reason, left fielders don’t need to be the fastest on the team. They are usually good batters to supplement the batting lineup, and have decent arms to throw to the bases, or back home. Both Okumura and Yui have shown themselves to be decent batters (in Yui’s case, even prodigious) and Okumura has an exceptional arm (shown by his throw to second during warmups before the first-year vs senpai match).

Center Fielder:

Toujou

Kuki

Toujou’s already proven his worth as a center fielder. I think he’d probably continue to play this position unless he was chosen to be a closing pitcher for a game. If he was the starting pitcher, he could always be put into center field later in the game.

I chose Kuki over Asada here because Asada’s windup, pitching, curve, and speed are all very slow. The center fielder has the most area to cover, and has to have an incredible arm and aim to throw back to home from all the way in the outfield. I think Kuki, as a disciple of Toujou, would probably take to this role more than Asada.

Right Fielder:

Kaneda

Kagami

Kaneda’s the only one listed among the second-years that plays right field. Kagami is a first-year who I vaguely recognize. The Wiki says he’s a right fielder, though, so who am I to argue?

Any thoughts? I’m not a baseball expert, and I don’t remember all the characteristics of each second and first-year so please feel free to correct me on anything!

[happikattwuzheere]

the one where gansey befriends a deer: the au

hey remember that time ronan dreamed up a deer that was described with language suspiciously similar to how adam’s described, because i sure do!!! anyway

OK.

ok. so. this au’s actually evolved a lot since its initial already-pretty-fleshed-out inception one sleepless night, so me talking about it’s gonna be more than one post, but here’s the first one well actually the second technically yesterday’s warmup doodles were also from this au but i didnt talk about it at all so

and I’m gonna start with more or less the same pitch I gave to a couple people on discord

SO. starting out: it’s standard fantasy times, vaguely medieval but no specific time period because I don’t care enough to be digging into that quite frankly, but it is somewhere in England where this is happening. Story starts with just Gansey, Ronan, and Noah. Fey are very real and known entities and there’s been a conflict in England between the fey and humans, if not in the whole country then at least in the lands that the Ganseys are the lords of but probably the whole island tbh, and Gansey’s not inherited the lands yet but he’s going to and wants to maybe find a peaceful resolution to the conflict. It’s not open warfare by any means but it’s been a big problem. 

To the effect of solving that, he heads to some little village that I haven’t named but it’s right next to a known fey forest called Cabeswater. This village has avoided being stomped by the local fey because, despite witches not being particularly liked by the nobility of the time, there’s a big old coven (the psychics of Fox Way, essentially) situated right by this village that’s kept things in check. Gansey’s made his excuses to his parents about why he’s officially going there but really he wants to talk to the witches and get a better grasp of the conflict from the people actually dealing with it.  He and Ronan set out from home together, pick up Noah along the way--who is not a ghost in this AU, he’s a fey who owes Gansey a life debt, that’s a whole other post and THIS post is mostly about gansey and adam--but anyway they get to this village and NOBODY gives gansey the time of day. 

the witches don’t let him into their house because they don’t like the nobility right back thanks and the next time he tries to visit Cabeswater won’t even let him get to the coven’s dwelling, the one witch’s daughter who regularly stops by the village for supplies and to check if anyone needs anything has a big argument with him the first time he talks to her so that’s going nowhere, and, well, the villagers are polite, but they clearly don’t take him seriously. He’s just the lordling playing at things and potentially meddling in their business to them.

So he starts hanging out just barely within Cabeswater, even though he knows that’s not wise, because he finds this perfect spot by a stream, and he’ll sit out there and think and work on the journal he keeps of all his thoughts and plans, and one day while he’s there has a straight up Disney princess experience when a deer stops by the stream and seems incredibly unafraid of him. he cherishes the experience but accepts that it probably won’t happen again.

and then it does. several times. gansey’s losing his mind. this deer??? apparently likes listening to him info dump?? it’s very therapeutic and also very magical and he’s amazed 

a few times in, he names the deer “Pryderi” after a character from a welsh legend, because “such a handsome creature deserves a princely name,” [[muffled blue laughing and whispering “princely” in the distance]], and he tells ronan and noah about this experience but ronan doesn’t believe him at ALL. 

one time after gansey’s particularly upset at how bad his attempts at getting along with the villagers, Pryderi actually lets Gansey touch him for the first time and gansey cannot shut up about it to ronan who’s finally like “i think you’re bullshitting me about this deer thing. im coming with you next time” and gansey’s like “well he’s a deer he might not show up if a stranger’s around and he doesn’t come every time i go down there anyway” and ronan’s like “this sounds like a lot of excuses, dick, you’re not making me believe you any more with this” and gansey’s like “>8\” 

but pryderi does show up, and gansey is delighted, and ronan stares really hard at him and then goes 

and gansey’s like what? nooo. but ronan keeps arguing it for the duration of the visit and the deer actually starts to look annoyed and at the end ganseys like ok maybe but i doubt it. and then hes like “well since you are a fey apparently (/sarcasm) i ought to say farewell with respect” and bows very mockingly and then the deer makes direct eye contact with ronan and bows back and gansey loses his shit

gansey continues meeting up with pryderi but even while his infodumping still happens it does so now with the knowledge that He Does Actually Understand What Im Saying, he may be a fey but he seems like a friendly one and hey that’s way more than gansey thought he would get out here, and also this deer is his friend now thanks, 

he, ronan, and noah (who’s amused by Pryderi but keeps his main thoughts to himself for now) make some excursions into cabeswater, but the thing is noah’s not really native to england, he’s from the european mainland, again i’ll get to it in another post sometime, but. he can sort of help navigate cabeswater but not all THAT well so they get lost a couple times, and every time it does happen pryderi shows up and helps guide them out. there’s some very funny moments of a very jealous ronan getting into weird conflict w/ a very smug deer 

anyWAY one day there’s like a festival, everyone’s drunk because its the middle ages and there’s not really a drinking age, gansey’s making another effort to make friends with anyone, and this one guy about his own age is like “ok look here i’ll teach you the folk dance everyone’s doing ok?” and gansey spends the night dancing w/ a handsome stranger, yes he will recognize the irony in the morning, but for now it goes. well badly because they’re both drunk but it’s fun, and then the guy says “ah, fuck it, i’ll finish teaching you next time we see each other” and gansey’s like “thats a little forward but ok!” and the guy (adam. its adam) panics and leaves while gansey’s back is turned and gansey doesn’t remember that last snippet of conversation the next day nor can he quite recall the stranger’s face. ronan does, because he was watching and not sure which of the two he was jealous of, but neither of them has any idea who the guy actually was. 

and then like, 3 days later, gansey falls asleep at the spot he usually hangs out in in cabeswater and wakes up in the early evening just in time to hear people yelling and for Pryderi to burst into view with an arrow in his flank. he collapses in a bush. gansey snaps into “protect friend” mode and gets the hunters off his trail by being all “oh a strange buck? i saw it pass that way over there friend!” and then when they’re gone he comes back and is all “alright pryderi they’re gone, let me just--” except pryderi’s not a deer anymore. it’s a boy. 

(Adam. its adam. the deer is adam.) 

gansey takes him home, gets the arrow out, noah’s like “i mean he’s not a fey, i dont know what turning into a deer is about but if he were fey the iron in that arrow would already have him dead. he might be partially fey but so little that he’s human in the ways that really matter”, over the next couple days they figure out that pryderi is in fact from the village and is a young man named adam parrish who’s been labelled a changeling and is assumed dead since he was yknow shot, gansey decides for now its probably best to keep him that way, but adam’s not getting better--apparently even having had the arrow in him as briefly as he did has poisoned him, he’s desperately ill and on the third day is finally like “get persephone” so gansey tries again (he’s tried several times over these days, they’d worked out that to have survived this long he must have someone else with a small degree of fey blood teaching him the ropes and the most likely suspects are the witches, but he’s hoping adam specifically asking him to will grant him permission enough to go in) and runs into a very frantic blue en route who as soon as he makes it clear he’s got adam is like “move your ass over on that horse im climbing on too” 

they get persephone, who turns into a fox rather than a deer, she saves adam, everythings cool except adam’s pissy now because he cant go back to the village and he has to give up on the attempts he had in the works to get out of town by working his way out and he takes it out on gansey who doesnt deserve it because this friendship is a mess, he’ll feel bad and take it back eventually but thats yet more posts ANYWAY YEAH theres our starting point 

(also worth noting: due to cabeswater being Right There,  p much everyone in this village actually has a small degree of fey blood, adam just won the genetic lottery) 

tl;dr adam’s a fey-blooded witch’s apprentice and he’s been the deer the whole time and thats the start of this au ty for coming to this ramble 

[moldy-mold]

Diary Post: My Thoughts and Processes on Making “Silent Strength” It’s lengthy, taking place over long period of time. Mainly written for my future-self to remember what I went through, but also for anyone who is curious. Now that the project is over, I can post without reservations. There are certain things I need to keep secret though, so if I’m vague I do so intentionally!

Basically, a lot of number-crunching, physical labor, and psychological labor.

It started off as kind of a joke tweet I made. I had enough content to make a Tales Of art book and people were receptive to it. So… I thought maybe I could go somewhere with this. A few weeks later, I suddenly had a lot of Kratos art. Like. 80% of all my Tales art was Kratos. It didn’t make sense to make a broad Tales Of book when really most of it was Kratos.

I hadn’t made a book since I was in college despite it being one of my favorite things to do. They were never art books, just some editorial design projects that totally didn’t count. This book… would be my first-ever art book.

Several times, I came close to having enough art to print a book - the last time was my large collection of Yusuke Kitagawa, but the quality wasn’t where I wanted.  At that time, I was still experimenting with my iPad Pro and figuring out Procreate, so that was what I used him for.

NGL, I was pretty afraid of looking like a clown. After doing all this work, what if no one actually buys it? I was talking to some friends and they said they would buy it. It was enough for me. In the end, I’m creating something that I love. - The first thing I really wanted to work on was the cover. It needed to be epic but also mysterious (lol)… It was a good time to practice lighting and backgrounds. The cover had to be freaking Fantastic. I spent 3 days drawing nonstop. I was on vacation so I could spend full days just drawing. It was really intense. I would stop in the evenings to go for a run or else my legs would never get circulation again.

The hardest part was keeping it secret. I wanted to share it with the world right away bc I was so proud of it. Well, all I could do was show it to my parents and some close friends. They didn’t know who Kratos is, but it was obvious I was crazy about him.

Initially, I was doing some hand-lettering for the zine title instead of using a typeface. Tbh, I was so sure I was naming this zine “Blame Your Fate!” bc that is such an iconic line. But it just didn’t work with my cover, which looked… a little too serene for that. So… Silent Strength or Divine Strength? I asked around and got my answer.

But what size? All of my art has been on letter canvases. I wanted it to be large so you could see the details in the art. I’ll just start with that. - Luckily, I had all my Kratos-related art in one place. I started my InDesign file and threw everything in there just to see what it looked like. Man, I draw a lot of boxes… But I didn’t want them all next to each other. I also wanted to kinda organize it by the people Kratos hangs out with. There’s a Yuan section LOL… and a Lloyd section… and an Anna section. Idk, I tried to get some kind of order in there with a sprinkling of full spreads here and there to keep it fresh and interesting for the eyes.

I hadn’t worked with InDesign on such an intense level since college. I forgot all of the tips and tricks we learned in class. Spent some time reading on how to do things again… like adding page numbers. - I started drafting my pre-order form. It’s my first time making a google form like this. It’s kind of fun? I spent a long time on it, despite how simple it was. This was going to be my “Store” so it had to look and sound good. - My friend introduced me to charm-making. It seemed easy enough, and I wanted to give my zine more oomph. Besides, I’ve always wanted to make a charm.

I remember someone saying they’d buy a book of just the 4 Seraphim if it existed. I like them too and they lack art imo. In the end, I decided to do a polaroid charm. It’s not really that unique but I wanted Kratos to have actual friends to hang out with for once LOL.

She was going to do a group order to try to reduce the costs. I thought maybe 4 weeks would give me enough time. In the end she said I only have 2. I work well under pressure, so needless to say, I did make that deadline. I actually sketched the whole thing on the plane headed home. - After playing the game the second time, watching the OVA again, and reading “Offerings to a Star,” I have gained a real soft spot for Yuan.  My friend once said, “If you weren’t stolen away by Kratos, you would be in love with Yuan.” Lol. I’ve been in a “Kratos and Yuan hanging out” mood lately, so of course I needed something good for the zine. They’re so cute together! Now… what is the bro-est thing I can draw?

I was currently in Florida for my friend’s wedding. I was friends with the groom and his best man since high school, so that makes it 10 years now. Seeing how they’re still friends after all this time, despite living in opposite sides of the country, was really moving to me. Of course, me being me, I could see Kratos and Yuan’s long friendship being similar to this, if they had gone to school together. I just had to draw it. - When I got back from vacation, I did some research on zine sizes. Mine was HUGE compared to others. I just didn’t quite realize it until I held a magazine in my hands. It really is huge…

I settled for a medium size. 7x9. I really liked how it looked. Petite but not too petite. Unfortunately resizing my book had messed up my artwork placement so I spent hours rearranging all the text and resizing my images. I found out afterwards that there’s a way to retain the format while changing the document size. Gee, that would have been helpful 4 hours ago.

Sadly, choosing a custom size booklet makes printing more expensive. But I wanted it badly enough that I’d be willing to pay for it. Letter size is just too large… - I decided to stop dragging my feet and post a promo. I just really needed a deadline for myself to get this all done before July ended. I’m happy it was well-received. A lot of people like Kratos huh…

Anyway, the pre-order is due in a week and I still don’t know what all the costs are yet. I need a physical proof ASAP to weigh at the post office! - Something possessed me one day to do another drawing. I don’t usually do painterly style (mainly because it’s really difficult and takes 10x longer) but I just REALLY wanted to push myself on this Final Piece to the zine. I wanted it to be… radiant. Almost religious. I worked on it obsessively. From breakfast to sundown. The only time I would stop was at 7pm to go running or else my legs would give out on me.

Call me crazy, but I would save my progress on my phone so I could examine it for errors during my warmup. I also spend an hour examining it for errors before going to bed. It’s a miracle I hadn’t dreamt of the painting. - I sent my files in on Sunday in hopes that they start working on it first thing on Monday…. and it HAPPENED! They finished before I even woke up. I think they start work at like 6am…

Of course, I drove over there as soon as I heard so I can get a look. “Please… please let the colors be okay,” I prayed as I was driving. I barely remember driving there, I was so lost in thought. It would be another long ordeal if I had to fix all the colors.

Thank the stars. The press proof looked BEAUTIFUL!! I was screaming to the client coordinator how much I loved it. I mean, I worried for a looooong time that everything would turn out too dark (it usually does) but it was PERFECT. I was especially worried about the cover, which contained a lot of yellow and I def did not want it to come out mustardy… But it was great in the end!

The press operator is a quiet man. He’s got a scary face and never smiles but I think he’s secretly nice. He has done a lot of favors for me in the past without my asking. He was the one to print, bind, and trim the book for me. Obviously he had to have seen what I was drawing. I wonder what he thought of it…? He walked away before I could express how happy and thankful was. He didn’t need to hear it. It was like he already knew. So cool…

I immediately took it to the post office to weigh it. I needed as much info as I could get and plus, I was dying to know for myself. This is the week I was supposed to open pre-orders and there was still a lot I needed to do. Take pictures, create mockups, pricing, etc.

NGL, all of these costs were building up fast. It was so darn expensive to make a zine while also keeping prices down. But I wanted so much more for my baby. Extra glossy cover, perfect binding!! I knew by the end of this, I probably wouldn’t make much money. It hurt a little, but I tried to think that it was for the greater good. Learning experience and all that. And creating something beautiful. Especially something beautiful of Kratos. - Pricing was really the hardest part. I pretty much threw profit out the window. However, I definitely did not want to be losing money. My dad and I had worked together to create a spreadsheet of expenses to make sure my head was above water. I followed it… loosely.

My friend came to talk to me at the right moment. I was sort of panicking at the prices. She made me realize I was thinking way too hard about it and gave me some tips based on her own experience. It really put my mind at ease talking to someone who understands my woes.

The truth of the matter is, the book is wonderfully made and has a lot of pages - countless hours of drawing. There is only so much I can do about pricing. It is what it is… I just needed to come to terms with my own worth. - Boy, what am I going to do once the zine is done? My friend says that I’ll be so over Kratos that I’ll stop drawing him (but the love remains). It’s like… all of the intense planning, working, struggling nonstop will just suddenly… stop. TBH, I’m running out of ideas. I spent it all on the zine. - Photoshoot today. I had to paint my nails purple for this occasion. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the look I wanted in the apartment. It’s just so naked without props. I think I’ll take it to a cafe for some nicer backgrounds. I talked it over with my friend and decided to do a quick flip-through of the zine as a promotional video. I used the most professional video program I had on hand… Snapchat. It actually turned out pretty legit and of course I slapped stickers on there because it’s Snapchat.

I had to tape/hide some of the pages for the video because I wasn’t actually done with the drawings. I had the printers print it anyway so I could examine it for color accuracy.

I’m really stressed about pricing now. It turns out I had a lot more international fans than I anticipated. I wish I took notes on interest earlier in the game to cater to them. I had a list of “possible buyers” and I only just now decided to check where they live? Foolish.

I did another cost analysis on paper to figure out what my goal was to make up for the charms. Right now they’ve cost me a fortune for something that was supposed to be giveaway. Other things that rack up are packaging costs, PayPal fees, and some other supplies I needed for this project.

Maybe I shouldn’t have made it 40 pages. It is an impressive number, but no one is really paying for quantity. I think 25 is a better number lol. If I had done that, I could have had my super-gloss cover like I wanted. :’(

There is hope though. And I’ve placed it in the hands of my followers to come through for me. I think I’ll open pre-orders on Saturday or Sunday, depending on what I finish. - “Losing your cool will only lead to poor decisions.” 
Thanks, Kratos twitter bot. You always know what to say.

I read this post today on what makes people buy zines. Very interesting!
 https://twitter.com/andythelemon_/status/1141469048653398019 - Photoshoot part 2 today. My friend and I went to a cafe nearby that had some nice atmosphere in hopes of finding the right shots. I brought all of my Kratos merch just in case. I’m glad I did though, since the tables were pretty sparse and it was difficult to capture the backgrounds without getting a bunch of random people in it too.

I would have been the photographer, but I definitely wanted my hands in the shots. In a way, it was meaningful - to show that this was made by my own two hands. Plus, I wanted to depict natural interaction with the product. It made it feel real.

The photos were cute! I feared it would look a little amateurish with all the merch in there, but I think fun was what I was really going for, not “professional.” And plus the flip-through was a Snap anyway LOL. As long as the photos have good lighting and tasteful composition, you really can’t go wrong with “fun.”

Now that I’ve finished editing my photos, there really isn’t anything holding me back from opening pre-orders. I’ve pretty much come to terms with my pricing. If I fail to break even, I’ll just have to open commissions to try to make up for it. I was telling my friend on the way home, “I gave this zine EVERYTHING I had to give. So at the very least, I won’t be disappointed in myself.” No stone left unturned, no detail left unchecked. It was perfect according to my standards. I really love my zine okay?!

I thought I was crazy for not only choosing a small fandom, I narrowed it down even further by picking ONE GUY to make this zine about. She replied, “Even if it’s small, those people who love him now must be EXTREMELY LOYAL to still be in love with a character from a 15-year-old game. All of them will want your zine.” - I went to bed that night with the intention of making the pre-order post live in the morning. I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep. I was wide awake until at least 5 or 6 am. Luckily, I was able to doze off for a an hour or two before I would shake myself awake again. It was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. It was the moment of truth - to see if all my effort made a difference. Was it going to sell? - The pre-order post looked really freaking good. I’ll give it that. I even made a YT account just to post that darn preview video on tumblr lol. It was definitely fun seeing everyone’s excitement and we all just freaked out together.

I broke even! That’s what really matters. Honestly at this point, I couldn’t care less if I made profit or not. I now know how much people really like the zine and that alone made me so happy I could die.

I was particularly fascinated at Google Form’s ability to transfer all the data collected into a spreadsheet. That is extremely helpful. I spent hours organizing the data. It was really fun…?! Now I can tell who gets invoiced and who paid and separate them into categories. IT’S FANTASTIC!

Stayed up late researching how much adding tracking could be. I had a slight panic attack thinking “what if my books got lost in transit?” It would really hurt me to have to reprint books and ship them again. And then I realized I will need to fill out customs forms for all international orders. Yikes, I’m gonna be living at the post office lol. You can print them out at home if you fill out the form online but there are still some things I’m uncertain about. I may visit the post office later this week to ask all my questions. - This morning I sent out everyone’s invoices. I gave the international people the option to purchase tracking. It’s expensive… but I need to provide that option just in case.

I received a nice message from someone who offered to advertise for me on Instagram. Of course, I gave them the OK! I’m really so shocked they would do that… They said the liked the zine so much it deserved more exposure. My dude… I love you… T_T

I thought about advertising on insta myself earlier in the week. For some reason I felt it was going to be fruitless since I don’t have an art account on there with a following. So, I gave up on the idea. Hey it worked out in the end.

I’ve never been so organized in my entire life. I want this zine experience to be perfect. The people have placed their trust in me, so I cannot mess up. - Edited some pages in the zine. The typography must be perfect… It made me think back to undergrad days in graphic design school. Man, if only I can present this as a project - photos, videos, matching accessories and all. I’d probably get an A lol. - Orders slow down after the first day. The rest is just about getting new people to see the post and giving other people more time to decide.

I finished my Kratos stationery today. It’s going to be so cute. My friend said people would want to buy it but I don’t have it in me to do more products at this time. Plus, I want it to be a surprise.

Why make stationery? Well my real job (no, I don’t draw Kratos all day for a living) is a stationery designer! It would feel really wrong not to put into practice what etiquette I’ve learned in this business. Plus, I felt that it was necessary to properly thank all those who ordered. And it’s fun?

I started designing the shipping labels for the domestic orders since I don’t need to fill out a customs form for those. I wish I had sticker labels but… it’s okay. It will still look good in the end. - Every so often, I would get nervous at the amount of money I’m responsible for. Perhaps, if I had a store with existing products I wouldn’t feel this way, but the fact that the books haven’t been printed yet made me scared. I know, I need this money to even print the books in the first place, but I’m just baffled at my customers’ trust in almost a total stranger. I felt pressured that I could not let them down and lose that trust. It probably didn’t help that I watched a documentary on Elizabeth Holmes (Theranos) that day.

So, I prayed every single day that nothing would go wrong. I’d check my spreadsheet constantly for any mistakes. It was a little obsessive, but I would rather be that than overlook something.

I began collecting cardboard boxes. My plan was to cut them up to protect the books during transit. I would have preferred hard envelopes but they were a bit pricey. If I have to do more work myself, so be it.

I’ve been getting nice DMs from some buyers. I think my invoice due date scared them… I really did not intend to be strict, but I wanted people to pay now if they can rather than forget about it. This happens at work all the time, so the best thing to do is have it due immediately. It would not look good to have to wait on stragglers when I close pre-orders, so I’ll probably reach out when there is one week left. - My Kratos stationery arrived! Aww it is SO CUTE!!! My babies… I have a lot of notes to write so I got started right away. It’s going to be a lot of work trying to come up with creative ways to say “thank you,” but I don’t mind. I said I was going to put my all into the zine experience so I will.

At long last, the charm order has been put in motion. My friend said it could take a while… I hope it won’t be longer than 3 weeks. I really do not want to keep everyone waiting. I may ship out the ones who did not win a charm first. I mean, there is no reason to make those guys wait. I should ask the charm winners if they still want to wait and see if anyone wants to give it up for someone else who is more patient. Hm. - I finally stopped by the post office today to collect customs forms. I have my work cut out for me since I’m filling all of them in by hand. D:

I’m not used to international addresses so I think I’ll ask for help in checking them for spelling errors and typos. Heaven forbid I mess up on the very last part of the zine experience.

In my nervousness, I decided to reach out about invoices early on. If someone wanted to cancel, I would rather find out sooner rather than later. Everyone was really nice about paying and thank goodness they’re still excited.

Feeling kind of overwhelmed by all the things I need to do, but it’s a good thing. If I don’t know what to do, I can either: cut cardboard, write letters, type shipping labels, draw more Kratos for a… possible volume 2? Someone I talked to today already said they’ll pre-order a second book if I make one. Omg I think I’ll die. But we’ll see. It’s just a joke right now haha… - Preorders end today. I had another nightmare last night that the books could not be printed properly and there was nothing I could do. Why do I keep getting nightmares about the zine! I had one a few days before about people canceling their orders when I asked them about the invoices. I’ll take these dreams with a grain of salt. I’m probably just stressed/worried but everything is going to be okay. When I open my eyes, nothing is on fire.

I received my final proof a few days ago. With all of the artwork completed and changes applied. The book looks good, no doubt about it. There was only one thing I was nit-picky about but it can be fixed. The press operator offered to print another book for me to inspect. I’ll go see it on Monday and then submit the rest of the orders. I also asked to to have a meeting with the press operator so we are on the same page. It would be beneficial to have an understanding of how my book is made so that I may be more helpful to him.

I spent the day preparing shipping labels. I hate to admit, I am not too familiar with the format international addresses so I had an address validator open as I was typing them in. For the most part, everyone was helpful in already formatting their addresses in the preorder form! - My parents called me the day after preorders were closed. They wanted to say congratulations on my success. No one thought it would do this well. I couldn’t be offended by that since I was also guilty of it. I’m happy though. It feels like my love spread across the world and was contagious.

I tried to think of what advice I would give to others. Obviously, genuine love for the subject and hard work were a necessity. But it would be good to consider value. If I were selling it at this price, I had to make sure my pieces and presentation looked the part. I ask myself, if someone else sold it, would I buy it?

I sent out messages to all the charm winners in the morning. I wanted to apologize profusely at the ridiculous amount of time it has taken to get them made. But no, I’ve got to stop apologizing. I stated the facts and left it at that. Everyone was really kind and patient⁠—to which I was thankful for. I don’t usually get that when I’m working customer service. - All the books were done printing in one day. Wow! I went to pick it up immediately of course. I can’t believe all of this is coming to an end. I finished preparing the mailers. All that was left was to stuff and seal the domestic orders. They were the easiest to do so I’m going to ship those first. The rest will need customs forms, which I haven’t filled out just yet. It’s going to be a while for those…

The mailers were quite sturdy with the cardboard cutouts I slipped in them. I have nothing to worry about. I’m sure my babies will be okay! - I took a whole box of domestic orders to the post office today. Wasn’t sure what to expect. But my clerk had to input every single address one at a time while I checked for errors. Omg, why are the post office shipping labels SO HUGE. I thought it was going to be half the size. And they’re ruining my designer labels! Slight panic but oh well…

I had a long long line behind me. I’m so sorry, people. Luckily there were two clerks or I would be really sweating. Despite my intimidating box of zines, the clerk and I had Synergy and we managed to ship all of these in about 15 minutes. I received a very long receipt and quite the bill lol. - Shipped the international orders today. I was kind of a mess since I had no idea what to do. I keep wondering if I can help speed up the process in any way but I don’t think I have the option to ship first-class at home.

When shipping international, keep the post office copy of the customs forms together with the package since they use that to type the address info into the system. Also, we get free tracking, which I did not know about. The other clerk told me that we did not get tracking for international first-class but I guess he was misinformed. It’s good to know for next time. - The charms finally arrived!! And THEY’RE HOLOGRAPHIC?! It was pretty awesome, but it makes picture-taking kind of difficult!! Anyway, I was a tiny bit disgruntled that they got my order incorrect, and I even asked for a reprint. But they said no, so I left it at that. Besides, it seems the holographic effect was well-received.

I like this size that I made. It’s really cute! Larger than your normal charm but not too huge. It’s almost like an Instax photo! - There was one customer who I found lives near me! I asked her if she wanted me to hand-deliver it to her in a public setting and she agreed (to my amazement). We finally met a few days ago and talked for hours and hours lol! I’m glad to have finally made a new friend here in this town but of course she’s moving away in two weeks. <:’3

We’re going to meet again to make the most of her time left. - I shipped the rest of the orders on the following Monday. I HAD to get these out. The poor guys have been waiting over a month! I think I picked a bad time to go because I had a huge line behind me and only one guy working. People in line were getting antsy or mad. The clerk at the other post office was super fast but not this guy…

For some reason shipping to the UK and Japan nearly doubled in price since the last time I checked. RIP. T_T - Omg I finally made a mistake. I wrote a letter to the wrong person. And the contents of that letter are too personalized!!! I am dying of embarrassment!!!!! Screams!! Had to apologize to both customers too!!! Luckily they were good sports about it but I’m seriously kicking myself AAAAAAAA!!!! - The most rewarding part after sending all my babies away is seeing the commentary on my project. It is so so nice to receive positive feedback. People are happy! Happy with something I created out of thin air. Everything was worth it 1000 times over. I can die happy!

I’m especially thankful to those who show understanding for how much effort went into it. It definitely wasn’t easy and I poured way too many hours into it… not that I regret that.

I don’t want to jump the gun but I would really love to make a volume 2. Because I know I can do better than last time. New and improved art and comics! But we’ll see if I make enough pieces for another book. I was against printing 40 pages before but now I kind of like it. It feels more worth it than a 25-page zine. If i’m going though so much effort, might as well bring in the entire package.

I’ll be printing more of this volume for Aselia Con 2020. Now I know people will appreciate it.

[theaterdisneynerdsunite]

Tony Awards Thoughts

So it looks like, at least for now, the CBS website lets you watch it for free (at least in the US). Here are my thoughts using those time stamps (be warned I have a long running commentary)

0:23 Oh is this going to be a parody of her playing the piano on last year’s Tony’s

1:05 How has neither one of them won anything? I mean I get if they said neither one of them one a Tony cause I mean, they both did shows that one time…but anything?

1:18 Is there anything more Broadway than saying the same rehearsed thing at the same time and pretending it was just part of the banter? Oh theater tropes I love you

1:36 That’s always been something that bothered me, people assume that just because something didn’t win the Tony doesn’t mean its not a great show, and the show that wins might not even be the best one that season (you know who you are). I love the Tony’s but its an award show, people don’t stop watching tv shows and movies or listening to artists that didn’t win or weren’t nominated, it makes me sad that so many shows close post Tony’s just because they weren’t the big winner. Anyways…

1:53 THEY CELEBRATED THE LOSERS LIKE ME, these A list celebrities that are totally not losers are soooo relatable ;)

2:40 A few years ago Something Rotten did what I thought was a brilliant advertising campaign listing amazing shows that lost the Tonys like them, so the fact that it was put into song gave me a fond flashback. See? SEE??? Oh it feels so good to be vindicated on tv

3:49 “If you make art at all your a part of the cure” :)

4:10 THEY HAD THE ENSEMBLE MEMBERS BE THE ONES IN THE OPENING NUMBER RATHER THAN THE LEADS THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY. If only my high school self could have seen this she would have felt so much better

6:42 I didn’t see any of the plays this year but I heard the most about Angels in America this season so not surprised. Looks interesting

7:45 Happy Pride Month

8:40 Bake a cake for everyone who wants a cake to be baked would actually be a pretty good diction warmup

14:10 Kinda surprised that they didn’t pick Rather Be Me or Apex Predator considering those are the really marketed songs. “Where We Belong” seems a lot like “Status Quo” from High School Musical. I mean you’ll get that about high school clicks in the lunch room with a blond queen bee but like, even the dance moves felt similar, and the lunch tray dancing, even the giant cat decal. But like, it's not as catchy? I didn’t expect them to win anything tonight but I really don’t think they’ll win anything now? Is that mean? Just cause it feels like it was supposed to be a high energy number and it didn’t have that energy I thought it would. Also come on, just cause you want the girls to be shallow and dumb doesn’t mean the lyrics have to be that cringey. This feels like a less good version of if Legally Blonde and High School Musical had a baby (I absolutely love Legally Blonde that was not intended to be an insult to either show).

15:00 Is it me or did Amy Schumer look like she wanted to say something but Rachel Bloom kept talking. But it didn’t really have any joke setup or serve as a good segway for commentary, what could she have wanted to say?

15:35 Later on I’m going to see if I can find the award speeches that didn’t get televised. most of the world doesn’t get broadway they get regional theater, I wanted to hear what they had to say

15:45 Nick Scandalious feels like a cartoon name you’d see in an Onion article about the Me Too movement. His face even looks like the generic celebrity that had a TMZ scandal five years ago. I thought I read it wrong at first lol

16:40 I was cracking up they know their brand so well. The air quotes on emotional, perfect!

17:10 Mini Sara and Josh are so cute!

17:50 Ok I missed the reference, what is the giant bird lady from?

18:10 oh

20:57 celebrity child picture counter: #3 Amy Schumer. Also guess which year the musical described as “a comedy about class and sexism” is from? Yup it’s My Fair Lady, the audience laughed like I did in that sort of this is funny but also sad kinda way

26:00 This was so overacted and hammy and one day I aspire to that level of loud printed robes. Coincidentally my name is also spelled like Eliza but my voice is not nearly that good. Also does it count as drag if they are clearly men in dresses with some comical makeup or is there another name for it when they aren’t actually trying to look feminine?

26:18 The twitter usernames were too small to see on my screen who were the twitter pictures of?

26:30 See above comment

27:00 What show did Billy Joel work on? Also Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, and Josh Groban maybe my mom will finally enjoy theater

29:12 Oh my gosh that picture of Titus Burgess is amazing as is that suit. And that intro is so Titus its great

30:07 Renee Fleming we’ve got the Opera world here too? It’s so many famous musicians from outside broadway on broadway, think of all the crossovers

32:50: Yes spongebob get Josh Groban to sing more thank you for your service. Ok I’m not a huge fan of spongebob but they have to win for sound design that guy is on overload

33:27 Lol it explains so much why the songs sound disjointed cause they got a billion people to write them. Also lol I was waiting for that joke

33:50 Also what I thought would happen would be a medley that way Spongebob who really is the driving energy of the show and Squidward played by the Broadway darling would both have a song. This wasn’t how I expected them to do it, but I was sort of right so I’ll count it. I’m not really a fan of Spongebob the musical (I’ve listened to it twice once when it first came out and once during Tony Season. I’m not one of the people who hate it off the sheer premise and won’t give it a chance, but I just thought it was meh and not worth having the most nominations.) But Squidward’s song is very me, not in terms of melody cause that is I find most of the melodies to be rather generic but the lyrics are 100% me trying to convince myself. Also all I will be thinking about for the rest of the will be what tap dancing must feel like its gotta feel weird how long do you think he spent practicing it with and without the extra legs. Or it might be nightmare fuel with the sea anemone contributing to it, who knows? Probably both,

38:07 still don’t know whose handles those are

38:28 ^^^

38:40 Ok when I saw the outfits I was expecting a Chorus Line Parody, but this Sia parody fits this every genre but musical theater theme of this Broadway season

39:20 Eight times a week, and all the subsequent puns

40:28 Can I just say I love this return to singing interludes over awkward award show banter?

41:44 I saw the Bands Visit a few month’s back and I still don’t know how to describe it. Normally I would guess it would be the second fiddle of the Tony’s but considering the “purists” it’ll probably win most of the awards

44:16 With all the previous reaction shots you knew it had to be Nathan Lane. I always forget how well spoken he is because of his typical roles but he is really well spoken and sincere rather than trying to wise crack and it was so sweet. It made me smile

47:43 His face saying “blow high” has got to be a gif right?

51:45 The entirety of the Carousel number was me thinking if I had a higher sex drive this would totally make me thirsty. They also used very creative ways to physically embody the shape and workings of a ship but then again I’m admittedly biased. Listen to that number you know their vocal prowess was not why they picked it

52:12 I mean, I know that crew gets less attention than cast and plays less attention than musicals but I would watch the full version stop cutting out the speeches. C’mon I love costumes

53:04 I know your joking but that hurts

53:19 yes #4 famous kid photo Uzo Aduba

55:49 Ari'el Stachel’s speech is made all the more poignant when you realize everyone else in his category were white. Despite this season’s commerciality you actually do have shows and casts with Asian leads and African American leads and Latin American leads and Middle Eastern leads somewhere between the sea of shows like Spongebob and Frozen. Show these shows some love, prove that Hamilton wasn’t the anomaly but the rule

56:55 They brought the Parkland teacher for the theater education award! Fitting 65 students into a high school teacher’s office for hours to protect them is not easy, she saved lives that day

58:17 I thought #5 Matthew Morrison was a girl in his child pic

58:40 They went to Parkland?!

59:35 OMG they’re performing!?!

1:00:10 Seasons of Love is the Perfect song for this, they sound so good too!

1:01:18 Girl has an amazing voice! Dang to get up there in front of all of these famous performers on live TV after the media has already hounded them and putting yourself out there is courageous

1:02:45 I can’t see the handles

1:03:11 Will they be able to top NPH’s Tony magic trick though??? Probably not but let’s see

1:03:31 So cheesy but tbh if I had a Harry Potter wand I’d be even cheesier

1:03:46 Was that line improved or was the tech delay intentional?

1:04:22 C’mon Squidward already pulled the same “trick” you have ensemble block the audience pov while someone enters from the back. Didn’t even come close to topping NPH

1:04:43 Little Patti Lupone I can’t believe she allowed them to include her picture of lil’ Patti

1:05:04 I just wanted to include Patti’s line about a “deep appreciation for outspoken women” cause I actually said “you go girl” out loud

1:05:35 Yeah, fun fact, Tony wasn’t a man but was actually short for Antoinette. They referenced it multiple times before, including earlier tonight, but it was stated most explicitly here

1:06:35 Is that a young or modern Claire Danes, I can’t tell

1:07:39 Also it’s really cool that an older woman won something, I feel like the stage gives more roles for older woman that other acting industries, also if people argue that she was political she served political office. Also how cool is it that apparently people were there from every recognized country?

1:09:27 so that’s how they do Sven, I knew Olaf was supposed to be an Avenue Q style puppet but the way they move Sven is really cool (it’s the technique they used on things like War Horse, I don’t know if it’s considered costuming or puppetry or what the official name is)

1:10:20 Anna looks exactly as I pictured her, and they changed a few minor lyrics for it to fit the stage

1:10:44 There are so many quick changes tonight

1:11:22 Elsa did not look like what I imagined her to be, but the costumes are on point

1:12:00 The chorus versions of these songs have beautiful harmony, but Olaf shouldn’t be there yet right? Isn’t he “born” in Let it Go

1:12:47 Alright I’ve been waiting to see how they’ll do the snow effects!

1:14:00 They got out of building the castle by already having it built at the beginning of the song, which is smart technically but I wanted to see how they do it, unless it’s one of those things that’s a surprise for when you see it live.

1:14:25 Never call it “Daddy’s Day” ever again. Never.

1:14:46 I can’t see the handles

1:14:59 How could you not show Chita Rivera’s lifetime achievement? I’ve been lucky enough to see her in more than one show and she is incredible.

1:15:13 And you also cut out Andrew Lloyd Webber’s?? You made the wrong cuts Broadway

1:15:25 It looks like they’re going to show a tribute I’m excited!!!

1:17:42 Two things: Andrew Lloyd Webber has written a weird collection of musicals, like when you see clips of them back to back you realize just how weird of a collection it is, and Josh Groban needs to be the next Phantom

1:18:08 That exchange was so physically awkward they haven’t even started talking yet and I feel the cringe

1:19:18 Is “I swore I’d never do something like that” shade against the La La Land debacle? In 2018? Or am I reading too much into it

1:19:21 I saw the Band’s Visit but I also saw Once on this Island and I thought that one would win Direction for sure but I guess I was wrong

1:22:36 I read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, it’s a weird read, but I haven’t seen it live so maybe it’s directed brilliantly, who knows? Who else thinks its a weird read?

1:23:56 He’s getting the Tony audience to sing his boyfriend "Happy Birthday" instead of giving a speech and that is both adorably sweet and such a power move. Also a rare occasion of Happy Birthday being sung on key

1:25:10 They’re having DEH perform? You cut out people who actually were awarded tonight for people who already were featured on the Tony’s last year? And that song is a weird choice for a In Memoriam considering that show doesn’t really…respect the deceased. Weird

1:28:17 Give the tech more time in the limelight! You cut out Chita and Webber’s speeches for a weird tribute and you have weird stunts with tech like the magic thing yet cut out all their stage time. I know this is standard Tony procedure but it is something I will comment on every year until it changes

1:29:20 That move for “work hard for the money mom” line was uncomfortable

1:30:30 They really do sound like the original singer

1:31:53 So that’s how the performers follow the conductor. They have a huge teleprompter-like screen in the back of the audience

1:32:52 This cast seems specifically tailored to gather different subsections of internet geeks and I will not tell you which categories I fall into

1:33:18 I never knew “the Jimmy’s” were a thing when I was in high school

1:34:54 THOSE are the great themes of Harry Potter? Really?

1:36:10 Aww look at little Cinderella

1:36:34 How are they going to build that stage for the Tonys? They built a river inside the theater for it before!

1:37:00 Well it makes sense that they’d only include part of the set, you can’t really recreate an entire building. Yes I’m so glad they included Mama Will Provide. That song is like the definition of a Tony performance song. Why did they include the Daniel bit, that was so awkward and broke up the flow

1:40:40 If anyone would be chill with the goat it’s Nathan Lane. Yup, there a live goat at the Tony Awards

1:41:21 Don’t joke about that

1:41:41 Are you going to cut out every technical award

1:42:32 Too relatable

1:43:16 Is this that song from Chorus Line in real life

1:44:10 English Major life

1:46:03 The angel from Angels in America is so Extra TM

1:46:54 That Tony Kushner line was forced

1:47:18 Awkward segway but REMEMBER TO VOTE

1:47:38 That Judy Garland line ties in perfectly with the Happy Birthday to the gay couple

1:48:04 That reaction to the word “money” is me. And also is a gif right?

Am I so much of a Tony nerd that I both knew and was shocked that the accountants weren’t the normal ones from Ernst and Young but instead were from Grant Thorton. Why do I remember what company normally tallies the Tony votes? Why did they change companies? Why do I care so much? But seriously what happened

1:49:00 That phrase just sounded so odd, just the way it was said “my television Daddy-O Tony Shalhoub”

1:53:15 I don’t have the accent and I’m about as white as white can be, but I really want to perform this song somewhere at some point. I have family in this area even though I don’t look like I would but and I just connect to it. The melody is gorgeous and the chorus reminds me of the lullabies of when I was very little.

1:54:15 Every time the young photos come up it puts a small smile on my face

1:54:37 Good on them for putting their money where their mouth is. They actually helped fund arts programs in places where they were cut

1:55:05 I wonder what the rest of the scenic guy’s speech for Spongebob was because this tiny clip seemed so passionate (and just has such an interesting aesthetic). Gosh darn it Tonys stop pretending the only backstage people that count are the directors and producers, you have all these other people who put in so much hard work yet you consistently ignore them. Even orchestrations, choreography and score?? Orchestrations, choreography and score are crucial for musicals to exist as unique entities from plays. You make jokes about people sitting through 5 hour plays but I would gladly sit through a five hour award show if you just included the technical awards.

1:57:10 me trying to open anything ever

1:57:14 Yes! I was so worried they would go with the super old school ones that get constant revivals. I mean, they picked the show that had “1000 pounds of sand, a 100 gallons of water, a goat and 2 chickens into his theater” when you have safer, more conventional bets. Everyone kept sleeping on Once on this Island this Tony season to talk about their feelings about the Spongebob’s and Mean Girl’s of the world but this is such a good show. Maybe this’ll get this show the love it deserves.

1:59:30 what did Robert DeNiro say on the recording the sound cut out. Did the mic cut out did he say something inappropriate, I’ve been avoiding Tony news what happened?

1:59:55 It’s got more than just a big cast, dancing, and a history lesson. You know that applies to, idk like 60% of famous Broadway musicals lol

2:00:06 when someone gives that pregnant of a pause you gotta wonder what the story is there

2:00:27 Truth

2:00:40 “Jersey Boy” that’s such a good one liner, actually, it might sound sarcastic online but that was a funny one liner in context

2:03:00 Is Bruce Springsteen really going to just do spoken word poetry the whole time? Also I don’t know why but this makes me think of Fun Home

2:06:05 Oh he’s going to sing after all. Though that story is about as Americana Fourth of July as anything I’ve ever heard on the Tony Awards ever and that’s saying something

2:07:39: who are these people?

2:08:00 Didn’t Kristin Chenowitz and Alan Cumming do this exact same shtick when they hosted, what 2 years ago? And there’s was much bigger I mean really go big like that Glinda the Good dress or go home.

2:08:23 Was there really no punch line? Also aww baby Kelli O’Hara is precious

2:09:07 The actor’s name sounds like his character’s name and I enjoy that

2:09:39 Well these actors are very different from each other

2:11:28 I am a sucker for genuine sincerity and that combined with some of the earlier moments like the Parkland moment brought me close to tears

2:12:45 Look at this award shows actual diversity, and not just using one show for diversity and nominating a bunch of actors you have 3 out of 6 female leads be people of color and none of them are a “token” and they all support each other. Hailey Kilgore is so young and such a good actress and I wanted her to win so much but she seemed so excited for the person who did win and they all seem happy at the result you don’t have any of that polite loser face they are all genuinely supportive and this makes me happy. I’m happy, look at those smiles I’m smiling, I love it when they show women supporting each other.

12:14:06 “my stupid little heart with so much joy” is me watching these people tonight.

12:14:27 Still can’t identify these people

12:15:00 Josh Groban’s reaction to Bernadette Peter’s name is me. Honestly Josh Groban is killing the potential gif game tonight

I’m sorry I just can’t take this description of them as “empowering stories” seriously when half of your nominations are Spongebob and Mean Girls

2:16:10 Tonight the Band’s Visit really swept. Honestly some seasons shows don’t win any awards that deserved it and other seasons shows that (while still deserving) probably wouldn’t have won win and it’s all kind of arbitrary, but I’m glad out of this batch it won, it was really the only show out of the four that would have gotten the Tony Award ticket sales boost and it got it.

2:17:35 “Music gives people hope and makes borders disappear”

2:19:08 yes another Josh Groan duet!

2:19:25 I love Miss Peters too

2:20:44 This number made me smile, this whole night made me smile. I was worried I would get frustrated by the night with Spongebob and Frozen and Mean Girls and all the potential for it to be a cynical snark fest or a capitalist money grabber spectacular. There are about 10 billion ways I saw myself not liking this year’s Tony Awards before it started and not only am I relieved that I was wrong about the mood of the night but I am elated. I love me some deadpan humor and some snark but you rarely see one of these nights just wholly be genuine and not tongue and cheek and it was such a breath of fresh air. Even the hokey bits like the stupid magic jokes and banter or weaker songs like that Mean Girls number, because everything was in such a kindhearted atmosphere, didn’t feel as bad as they otherwise would have.

[agent-houdini]

Drowned | pt. 1

in which i revisit this but... with lies and lessons. 

here’s your major warning for drowning, and ptsd?? tbh because i am sorry, whiskey, but you’re gonna get broken. 

part one of two.

Houdini was... a secret, to say the least.

A secret weapon, a secret lover -- 

Well, not that much of a secret. Not with the way Whiskey looked at her. Champ could read it a mile away.

It was why he had to address something... very seriously.

"Agent Houdini --" he started, that usual half-smile on his face as he leaned back in his chair. 

Houdini had warmed up to Champagne in the last year, despite most of her instincts telling her that he'd leave at some point or another.

"I have something that.. may be of importance for you."

"Huh?" Her nose wrinkled. She wasn't sent off on fancy missions, nor requested for fieldwork. She quite liked her office views and training lessons for agents new and old, and her days of surveillance were usually rather relaxing. 

"I need you to help us with the new recruits."

"Don't I already do that?" Houdini tilted her head, hands in her back pockets. Champ chuckled; she looked like she could be his daughter with the streaks of grey popping through her hair. Whiskey would about die if he heard his boss admit that.

"I did a little diggin' on ya, seems to me you used to be a lifeguard?"

She nodded; it was a job before things really turned sour in her life, before college and before... well...

"You need someone to watch the pool for their training? My cert's outta date but --"

"I know you didn't go through their training, but there's something we do a bit differently at Statesman. I'm surprised Whiskey hasn't told you about it yet, it's his favorite test for the large group," Champ explained, sitting up in his chair. "But we do a bit of teambuildin' with our large group. It's nice to shock them into workin' together."

"Explain, sir."

Champ chucked at the formality. "We do a bit of drownin'. Not real drowning, that would just be bad publicity. No one would ever want to join their ranks if someone died every time we went looking for new recruits. An' I understand that you used to do that sort of thing during your lifeguarding."

Houdini paled slightly; yes, she pretended to drown, but... "I was fully conscious the entire time."

"Don't sweat that part. We usually used one of our Seal friends, but seems to me they've been called away for their own work and can't help out. Ginger watches your vitals the entire time, you will never - and I mean, never - be in harm's way," he explained, elbows leaning against the desk. "I just know out of everyone in this entire organization, you're our best candidate."

She blinked for a moment; for once, Champ confirmed that she was good at what she did. Houdini nodded, chewing on her lip as Champ smiled softly.

"I don't mean to press you. But the timing falls just right; and don't you worry about Jack. I'll take care of him personally."

Houdini's paled face soon turned tomato-red; clearly, the secret was out. Champ had, in reality, known for months with the way Jack wouldn't shut up about their new 'find' and how she managed to drive herself into being better at just about everything.

"I -- uh --" she stammered, biting into her cheek.

"Don't you worry about a thing. If you're comfortable, go meet with Ginger down in the training center. She'll go over everything with you. I'll go make sure our Silver Pony gets taken out for a ride." Champ grinned, placing his hat back on his head. 

Houdini nodded and scrambled out, her cheeks hot as she made her way towards the training center. Hopefully, Champ did mean he'd take care of things with Whiskey... if he found out she'd be drowning, well...

--

"Darlin'! There you are. I was lookin' for you, what --" Whiskey said, bending down to press a kiss to Houdini's lips after checking the hallway was clear.

"Champ said he needed you for something!" she said, pulling back.

"I know, that's why I'm headin' this way, but what's the rush?" His thumb stroked her cheek and she felt her heart hiccup in her chest.

"He said it was urgent you saw him, that's why. I don't know much, only that it may be a day or two," Houdini said, looking rather worried. She hated lying to Jack but.. it was for his own good. He panicked enough when she was going out for surveillance.

"What? It didn't sound so urgent to me..." he objected, thumb still stroking gentle circles into her cheek.

"You should go see what it's about, Jack. I gotta go check on that video file I asked Ginger for." Houdini hopped up and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, her hand lingering against his forearm before skipping down the hallway.

Whatever Champ told Houdini wasn't sitting right with Whiskey.

--

In just under an hour, Houdini and Ginger had crafted an identity, a background, and even a file within the Statesman computer system as a potential trainee. 

"This way, everyone else involved will know," Ginger said, and Houdini nodded in agreement. "Speaking of knowing. Did you want to be alerted when the water would be rising?"

"No. I want to have as much of a genuine reaction as possible. Me knowing would just make things seem suspicious if someone in there knows what to look for," Houdini said, shaking her head. 

"You're giving these recruits way too much credit, but I know you'll be fine. We monitor trainee vitals anyway, so there won't be any reason to hide the tracker."

"Great! I'll go pack a bag --"

"No need, we provide everything for trainees. You just get to pick a color..." Ginger chuckled, "though I assume it'll be purple?"

"You know me so well."

--

"Listen, I'll be back sometime tomorrow night. Champ just wants me to fly out towards some area in Montana. Eastwood will keep you company tonight, okay?" Whiskey said, practically shouting over the sounds of the hangar.

"I've told you a thousand times. I'll be fine." Houdini retorted, putting her hands on her hips.

"Make sure you don't go too hard on those new recruits!" Whiskey added, chuckling. 

"I don't see them for a few weeks, Jack. Be safe."

"See you soon." 

With the chatter around them, the couple quickly shared a goodbye kiss hidden behind the wings of the Silver Pony.

Houdini prayed he'd be back after everything was said and done.

--

"Good evening, everyone. My name is Ginger Ale, and welcome to Statesman. You have been selected to be among the best in our nation, to serve and fight the unknown. This training will not be easy - for some of you, it may even mean death. Remember what got you here, your drive, and you will be successful. But know, only one of you can take the title of Agent Vodka..."

Ginger greeted the agents with a persona that felt right at home, her high-tech clipboard tucked under her arm. The expectations, as well as the procedures for failure, were also swiftly explained. Recruits of different backgrounds, ages and clearly from across the country relaxed as soon as Ginger left the room, moving to unpack their given belongings. 

"Quite the techie they've got --"

"I think the term is Quartermaster?"

"Oh, so like Q! I knew this place was James Bonds-y when we got here..."

Houdini had to restrain herself with her reply; "I think what you're looking for is Mission Impossible."

"You think they've got masks? I'm sure they have to, I mean, it is --"

The few male agents discussing what agency Statesman was most like were cut off by Ginger's voice over the loudspeaker.

"Wake-up is at 0700 tomorrow. Be ready for anything!"

Houdini chuckled at how cheery Ginger sounded. 

--

Morning came as quickly as the rest of the day had gone; Houdini wondered where Whiskey had flown off to and when he'd turn back around. Hopefully, it'd be another full day - late at night - when he would return. The recruits went off running as a warmup before heading to the firing range. In the back of her mind, she wondered when Ginger would trigger the button. While they were sleeping seemed to be the best case and really get them by surprise...

It wasn't until after lunch, when they were handed books and binders, did the other recruits quiet down. Tim, Jared, and David seemed to be unable to keep their mouths quiet about the theories and themselves. Amanda and Imani, two of the four female recruits, organized a small circle and welcomed Houdini into it, binders and books surrounding them.

"I think we should stick together. We all seem to have a good set of skills and good heads on our shoulders," Amanda smiled, glancing over at the group of three men.

"I think they're all former Marines. That's why they found themselves so easily," Imani commented, shaking her head.

"Well, let's get reading. I'd feel better getting a chunk of this work out of the way," Houdini smiled, opening her own copies as the other women agreed.

--

Whiskey, speeding along in the Silver Pony, noted some odd markings on his map along with some curious radio chatter. Something about 'Eden's Gate' continuously repeated, as if a warning. He quickly called it in before being given the command from headquarters to turn back; the phrase seemed questionable according to the few in the command station. It pinged a few searches with even more questionable material; Whiskey hummed to himself as a chill slipped down his spine.

"Good t'know, folks. Be sure to send Champ this info. Whiskey, out."

--

Ginger watched from the control room, tapping away at her clipboard. It was past dinner, and many of the agents were winding down in their beds. The day seemed to take a toll on them, meaning it was nearly time. 

--

"Champagne, sir, we've got a message for you pertaining the work you sent Agent Whiskey out for?" One of the radio comms said, paging in from the control tower.

"Go ahead."

"We're clearing him for landing now. We tried to reach you earlier, but that Montana business is much messier than expected. Key phrase 'Eden's Gate' popped up over radio chatter multiple times. Seemed better to return than to engage in their airspace."

"Keep him away from the training center. That is an order."

--

"Ginger, we've got a situation --" Champ had paged in just as the water began to rise. Most recruits were asleep, some with their arms and legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

All vitals appeared on one of the larger screens, beeping away happily. It was important to monitor Houdini's, given her role in tonight's production. Ginger ignored Champ's page as she watched carefully, waiting for the water to safely and completely rise before responding.

The water had reached the bottom of the mattress as the speed doubled. No one had reacted yet, many still fast asleep.

The door to the control room swung open and Whiskey wandered in, helmet under his arm. "Well, seems to me I'm gettin' a good show tonight!" 

Ginger slammed end on the pager and snapped around. "What are you doing back? You know you shouldn't be in here."

"Seems that our Montana problem is a bit bigger than expected. Works out better this way, now I can get a show before dinner! Where's Houdini? She should really see this for herself. Girl's lucky she never..." Whiskey dropped his helmet, staring at the screen where he saw Houdini's name and picture along with normal vitals.

"Ginger, what in the fuckin' hell is Houdini doing on this monitor?" His tone was harsh, sharp against the soft waves of the rising water.

"Whiskey, I told you, you can't be in here..." Ginger warned. 

"Ginger, you best not be playing any fuckin' games with me." His heart was pounding, matching the rate of Houdini's on the screen as she jolted upright, water up to her neck.

"Whiskey, listen --" Ginger pleaded, trying to pull his attention away from the window and the screens. "Listen to me. Everything is fine, this is just routine and you know that --"

"Don't you fucking do this! Stop the water right now. She can't be in there, she --"

"Jack."

He was getting frantic, pressing his hands to the glass, looking for any signs of his girl.

The water was rising up faster, soon swallowing the room up. The recruits struggled, and many only looked out for themselves as they swam towards the mirror. Houdini felt her own panic rise as she took one last breath, head bobbing against the ceiling before the room was completely filled. 

"Damn it! Give the controls to me, Ginger. I'm getting Laura out of there."

"No, you're not." The Quartermaster replied sternly, watching as Houdini was left on the other side of the room, her leg tangled in the sheets as she tried to swim away. 

Her hair had fanned out around her, dark and inky as Jack watched in absolute horror, unable to stop anything from happening. Houdini's vitals slowed, a cue for Ginger to prepare the draining system. No one managed to break the mirror, which would have dropped them into a smaller holding room; surprising, given a few of the recruits and their skills.

Jack clenched his fists so hard, his knuckles turned white.

Not again.

He couldn't watch the one he loved fade away - but he couldn't turn from the window. His upper lip twitched and he nearly bit the inside of his cheek off as the water level slowly dropped, Houdini's body floating back down. Jack felt sick to his stomach, watching as the recruits realized she had been drowned, and knowing that they did nothing did not help their case as prospective agents. He would have rushed in and grabbed Laura if he knew Ginger wasn't waiting with the tranquilizer hidden in their watches... instead, he kicked the lone chair across the room, leaving a dent in the wall.

“Fuck!”

"You can meet her in the medical wing," was all Ginger said before leaving the room.

[traviszajac]

wip tag!

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on. This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets, whatever.

i was tagged by the amazing @sagemb​ on my main but all of my wips are hockey fics so i thought it would probably be better to post this here lmao

i’ve been having a hard time writing stuff but uh.. here are my most worked on wips!

1. there’s something bout you that makes my skies blue (tentatively titled)

this is a self indulgent kailer/cody high school au lmao. just soft boys being soft and falling in love. it may also include cody as an artist and kailer accidentally writing a lot of poems about his hugeass crush on his best friend. also has some background nolan/nico, feat. nolan trying really hard to be chill around the cute new swiss exchange student and failing.

2. take flight

ive had this idea for a while tbh and i really want to write it. its like a weird urban magic au, with mitch as the protagonist, and no particular ship. i’ve been kind of rewriting it/rethinking it recently so im not exactly sure where im going with it, but basically, magic is sort of omnipresent in this universe. it’s sort of created/gathers around emotions, good or bad, so cities are sort of magical hotspots because they have lots of people, which means lots of emotions. magic is sort of intertwined with hockey, despite the nhl’s best efforts to separate them, because sports are where you feel the most intense emotions and theres really no separating magic from it. i dont really have all of the rules of magic figured out but it’s supposed be vague and unclear. a lot of weird shit happens. im bad at explaining things, so you can have a few excerpts:

(McDavid didn’t give his heart to Toronto, but god, Toronto loved him. Oh, it loved him. And it wanted him too, make no mistake of that.

But Edmonton… well. Edmonton was desperate.) 

Gretzky was a legend. Some say he made a deal with the devil, and that's why Edmonton went to absolute shit after he was gone. Because that's the thing with magic -- you can't gain anything without giving up something of equal value. Tit for tat. An eye for an eye. Equivalent exchange. 

You can't be a legend without losing something important on the way. 

Gretzky's on TV sometimes, and he looks pretty normal, usually. But he's got hollow eyes, and they look so, so old.

Erik Karlsson smiles at Mitch across the ice during warmups and his mouth is full of razor sharp teeth. 

3. and they were roommates

this is a basic mo/jake college au. i havent really worked on it that much but it takes place in mo’s sophomore year in college. basically all of the leafs are part of a frat named tau mu lambda (or TML in english letters). mo moves into the frat house and he rooms with jake, a junior. cue college shenanigans, and lots of pining when mo figures out he’s got a crush on his roommate.

i tag @yammermoto @heybernia @stevenstamkos and whoever else wants to do this!!