#matheus messi

[50kgannamolly]

[joguinhoqueganhadinheirodeverdad]

¿Cuáles son los últimos fichajes y rumores del Barcelona para la próxima temporada?

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¿Cuáles son los últimos fichajes y rumores del Barcelona para la próxima temporada?

Últimos fichajes del Barcelona

El FC Barcelona ha estado activo en el mercado de fichajes para fortalecer su plantilla de cara a la próxima temporada. Entre los últimos fichajes realizados por el club blaugrana se destacan varias incorporaciones de gran nivel.

Uno de los movimientos más comentados fue la llegada del defensor central Eric García, quien regresó al equipo culé procedente del Manchester City. García es considerado una joven promesa en su posición y se espera que aporte solidez y calidad al sector defensivo del Barcelona.

Otro fichaje importante fue el del delantero neerlandés Memphis Depay, proveniente del Olympique de Lyon. Depay es un atacante versátil y con gran capacidad goleadora, lo que lo convierte en una pieza clave en el nuevo proyecto deportivo del Barcelona.

Además, el Barcelona también ha reforzado su centro del campo con la llegada del centrocampista brasileño Matheus Fernandes, quien regresó al club tras su cesión al Valladolid. Fernandes aportará profundidad y calidad al mediocampo barcelonista.

Estos fichajes, sumados a otras incorporaciones estratégicas, buscan reforzar al Barcelona de cara a una temporada exigente en la que el club blaugrana buscará competir tanto a nivel nacional como internacional. Los aficionados esperan que estos nuevos fichajes aporten su talento y compromiso para lograr los objetivos deportivos del equipo.

Rumores de fichajes del Barcelona

Los rumores de fichajes del Barcelona siempre generan gran interés entre los aficionados al fútbol y esta temporada no es la excepción. Con la llegada de un nuevo entrenador y la necesidad de reforzar la plantilla, los rumores se han intensificado en torno a posibles incorporaciones al club catalán.

Uno de los nombres que más suena es el de un delantero estrella, un jugador que pueda complementar el ataque liderado por Lionel Messi. Se habla de posibles negociaciones con varios jugadores de renombre internacional, lo que ha despertado la ilusión de los seguidores culés.

Además, se especula sobre la posibilidad de reforzar otras posiciones en el campo, como el centro del campo y la defensa. La directiva del Barcelona estaría evaluando diversas opciones para armar un equipo competitivo que pueda aspirar a ganar los títulos tanto a nivel nacional como en competiciones europeas.

Sin embargo, es importante recordar que muchos de estos rumores pueden resultar infundados y que el mercado de fichajes es siempre impredecible. Habrá que esperar para ver cómo se desarrollan las negociaciones y cuáles serán finalmente las caras nuevas que se sumarán al equipo azulgrana.

En definitiva, los rumores de fichajes son parte del entorno futbolístico y alimentan la expectación de los aficionados, quienes esperan con ansias ver cómo se conformará el nuevo Barcelona de cara a la próxima temporada.

Refuerzos confirmados del Barcelona

Ha sido un verano movido para el Barcelona en términos de fichajes, con varios refuerzos confirmados que han generado mucha emoción entre los aficionados. Uno de los más destacados ha sido el regreso de Gerard Piqué, quien tras un breve retiro decidió volver al equipo para aportar su experiencia y liderazgo en la defensa.

Además, el Barcelona también ha logrado asegurar la contratación de jugadores jóvenes y prometedores, como el delantero Memphis Depay, quien llega al club con un gran potencial goleador y la capacidad de desequilibrar en el frente de ataque. El mediocampista Sergio Agüero es otra adquisición importante, brindando al equipo una nueva opción en el ataque y una experiencia invaluable en competiciones de alto nivel.

Por otro lado, la llegada del defensa Eric García ha fortalecido la zaga del Barcelona, aportando solidez y calidad a la línea defensiva. Con estos refuerzos confirmados, el equipo dirigido por Ronald Koeman parece estar preparado para afrontar la próxima temporada con renovadas esperanzas de éxito tanto en la liga doméstica como en competiciones europeas.

La afición culé está entusiasmada con la llegada de estos nuevos jugadores y confía en que su aporte será fundamental para alcanzar los objetivos planteados. Sin duda, el Barcelona ha demostrado una vez más su capacidad para reforzarse con talento de primer nivel y promete dar espectáculo en cada partido que dispute. ¡Visca Barça!

Posibles incorporaciones al Barcelona

El FC Barcelona ha estado en busca de nuevas incorporaciones para fortalecer su plantilla en la próxima temporada. Con la salida de jugadores clave y la necesidad de renovar su equipo, se han barajado varios nombres como posibles fichajes para el club catalán.

Uno de los nombres que suena con fuerza es el del delantero argentino Lautaro Martínez, actualmente en el Inter de Milán. Su juventud, calidad técnica y capacidad goleadora lo convierten en un candidato ideal para reforzar el ataque del Barcelona.

Otro jugador que ha generado interés en el club es el defensor español Eric García, quien actualmente juega en el Manchester City. Con tan solo 20 años, García se ha destacado por su solidez defensiva y su buen manejo del balón, cualidades que encajarían perfectamente en el estilo de juego del Barcelona.

Además, se ha rumoreado sobre la posible llegada de Georginio Wijnaldum al Barcelona. El mediocampista holandés, actualmente en el Liverpool, aportaría experiencia, polivalencia y capacidad de liderazgo al centro del campo del equipo.

Estas posibles incorporaciones al Barcelona prometen aportar calidad y profundidad al equipo, reforzando sus distintas líneas y ofreciendo soluciones para afrontar con éxito los retos de la próxima temporada tanto en la Liga como en competiciones europeas. Los seguidores del club esperan con expectación las decisiones finales del club respecto a estos fichajes.

Novedades en el mercado de traspasos del Barcelona

En el mercado de traspasos del Barcelona, las novedades recientes han generado un gran revuelo en el mundo del fútbol. El equipo catalán ha estado trabajando arduamente para reforzar su plantilla y prepararse para la próxima temporada.

Una de las principales novedades es la llegada del joven defensor Eric García procedente del Manchester City. El Barcelona logró cerrar este traspaso con éxito y ahora cuenta con un prometedor jugador para reforzar su zaga defensiva.

Otro movimiento destacado ha sido la contratación de Emerson Royal, lateral derecho brasileño que regresa al club después de su paso por el Real Betis. Con su llegada, el Barcelona busca fortalecer su línea defensiva y aportar mayor profundidad por la banda derecha.

Además, el fichaje del delantero neerlandés Memphis Depay ha generado grandes expectativas en el club y entre los aficionados. Con su llegada, se espera que aporte su talento y experiencia para potenciar el ataque del equipo.

En cuanto a salidas, el Barcelona ha confirmado la marcha de jugadores como Jean-Clair Todibo y Matheus Fernandes, quienes buscarán nuevas oportunidades en otros clubes para seguir creciendo en su carrera deportiva.

Con todas estas novedades, el Barcelona se prepara con ilusiones renovadas para afrontar los retos que se presentarán en la próxima temporada, con la ambición de volver a conquistar títulos y competir al más alto nivel tanto a nivel nacional como internacional.

[stevenandino]

Los 5 mejores jugadores de futbol en Sudamérica

1) Lionel Messi

Lionel Andrés Messi Cuccittini nacio en Rosario-Argentina  el 24 de junio de 1987. mayormente conocido como Lionel Messi  es un jugador delantero-centro campista, Es tambien un jugador historico del Futbol Club Barcelona, club en el cual jugaria 20 años para despues en el 2021 integrarse al Paris Saint-Germain.

Actualmente tambien juega en la seleccion Argentina de futbol en donde es Capitan.

2) Neymar Júnior

Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior,  nacio el 5 de febrero de 1992 en Mogi das Cruzes, Estado de São Paulo, Brasil.

Conocido como Neymar Júnior, es un futbolista brasileño que juega como delantero en el Paris Saint-Germain F. C. tambien juega en la selección de fútbol de Brasil.​

3) Anthony Matheus

Antony Matheus dos Santos, nacio el 24 de febrero del 2000 En Osasco-Estado de São Paulo, Brasil.

Conocido mayormente como Antony, es un futbolista brasileño que juega como delantero en el Manchester United Football Club. Es internacional con la selección de Brasil.

4) Vinicius Júnior

Vinícius José Paixaõ de Oliveira Junior, nacio el 12 de julio de 2000 en  São Gonçalo, Estado de Río de Janeiro, Brasil.

Es un futbolista brasileño aunque con nacionalidad española, juega como delantero en el Real Madrid Club de Fútbol de la Primera División de España. Es internacional absoluto con la selección brasileña.

5) Luis Díaz

Luis Fernando Díaz Marulanda,nacio el 5 de febrero de 1992 en  Barrancas, Colombia.

Es un futbolista colombiano que juega como extremo izquierdo y su equipo es el Liverpool de la Premier League de Inglaterra.

Tambien juega en la selección de Colombia.

Steven Andino 2F2

[hs4hpel4]

PkCanadianGuy packs;;

save e reblog se usar/salvar! <3

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[allens-chocolate-dreams]

🌷 for the steps?

OH, I like that one! :D

Under a cut because it got long:

🌷 How much effort does your OC put into their looks? Do they care much about how they’re dressed or what their hair looks like or are they not bothered? Could they be considered a snob or a slob?

(Warning for mentions of unsafe binding in Matheus' part.)

Ollie puts a moderate level of effort into their looks, but it's more for convenience than for the appearance itself. Most of the things they do are really just a comfort thing; soft clothes, soft colors, soft hair so they don't have any sensory issues around it, good hygiene so they don't have any health problems and such. But I wouldn't quite say it's an effort in their looks as much as it's an effort to have at least something comfy in themselves that they can fall back into.

Their looks are more like a layer of protection against their own skin, and their surroundings as well. So they need it to be as comforting as possible, otherwise Ollie might remember just how much they hate themselves and everything surrounding them. People, noise, stress... They need something to shield them from it, even if metaphorically.

I wouldn't say they really care about how they're dressed or how their hair looks like for other people, though. Even if the manipulation factor might be useful, they just can't be bothered, and honestly, it's fun to confuse people with the way they dress sometimes.

—

Chris puts a lot of effort into her appearance, and she enjoys doing so for the most part. She likes to cause a good impression and feel good about herself in this sense, so she always make sure to look neat even on lazy days. She tends to style her hair very carefully, wear comfortable but stylish clothes, make sure to take good care of her teeth, keep her nails cut (but not too much; it's always good to have some extra weapons, though she doubts she'll need it) and such. Might even wear some makeup if the situation is appropriate or if she just wants to look cute, but that's not that common.

She's not really strict about it, though, if she's feeling lazy or too annoyed to put in any effort into her looks, she just won't do it — which is why it's not that difficult to notice when she's having a bad day. But for the most part, she does prefer to look pretty other than messy.

It's also related to how she wants to be perceived and how she wants to control people's perceptions of her, and dressing up a certain way helps a lot with that. It makes her feel more in control. Plus, being pretty still gives her gender euphoria even on bad days. So yeah, she does care about her looks.

—

Nathane won't admit it, but she does care a little about how she looks like. The problem is that she can't do much about it right now. She doesn't have the energy or the motivation to look herself in the mirror and brush her messy hair, or brush her teeth frequently, or buy and wear clothes that don't look like she's living in a literal ruin (even though she is living in a ruin), or have enough of a self-care routine to at least avoid worsening her skin problems. They just don't have the energy or the self-esteem for that at all.

Nathane hates to even look at themselves in the mirror, so taking care of themselves is even harder — which makes them hate their appearance even more. So they force themselves not to care, not to bother with the scratchy and oily hair against their neck, their smell when they spend too much time alone in their room with no energy to get up and take a bath, the awful texture of their worn clothes... They just don't have the energy to actually care or do much about their looks right now.

She tells herself she doesn't care. Why would she care? She's not even a human anyway. Dressing up all alone is for people, not dolls. No matter how bitter they feel about it.

So, basically, Nathane is self-conscious about her appearance, but she can't change it much, so she just... Endures the discomfort. And tries not to think about it.

—

Matheus really cares about his looks and puts a lot of effort into them. Maybe a little too much. Matheus is someone who places a lot of value in the choices he can make; it's important for him to choose what to wear and how, considering how helpless his Fate motivation makes him feel. Plus, combining outfits is a hobby of his that he enjoys, so he's always putting a fair amount of effort into his everyday clothing and appearance; nice fabrics, nice cologne, good color combinations, accessories, wearing his hair in ways that compliment his clothes, even changing which chewable necklace he'll use that day depending on the outfit. He really puts a lot of thought into every aspect of his image, how he comes across, the impression he gives.

For Matheus, taking the time to take care of his looks is something that makes him feel good about himself, and that he cherishes. Style is one of the only things he'd actually feel comfortable showing off, because it makes him feel more human. Less disconnected. Less... bothered by himself, his lack of humanity. So he cares a lot about it... maybe to an unhealthy level sometimes.

It also relates to his dysphoria growing up. Because he felt so uncomfortable in his own body, he tried to make up for it as much as he could with what cheap products he could afford at the time. Even to the point of binding unsafely, enough so to cause bruises on his body. Because he needed to feel like himself, because he needed to be himself and his body wouldn't let him. He doesn't bind like that anymore, in fact he only binds sometimes these days since his dysphoria has gotten a lot better after being on hormones for a while — and even then he makes sure to do so safely, but still, those times... did do some damage.

And as time passes, I think his care for his looks is more and more becoming a coping mechanism for his self-hatred. Starting to become harmful, maybe. Even if his dysphoria is not as bad anymore, his self-hatred is growing every day with each trauma, each lie, each deception, each act of villainy. He's not dealing well with this at all, specially towards the end of Retribution. He's just so uncomfortable inside his own skin...

So yeah. He cares about his looks. Way too much. Please, someone tell him he's beautiful enough without trying.

—

Zenith doesn't care about hir looks enough to put any reasonable amount of effort into it. The way zie chooses what zie wears and what zie does with hir hair is mostly based on what zie feels like at the moment, no matter how random the combination may seem, and hir criteria for buying clothes and accessories is based on what looks the most comfy and sensory pleasing to feel in hir skin, and the most fun to look at. Once zie buys stuff, zie'll just wear it randomly and see how it goes, not worrying about whether it'll match or not. The fashion aspect of hir looks is not something that zie cares a lot about. If it's fun and comfy, that's the important part.

The only thing about hir looks that Zenith puts any effort into is hir hair. Zie has fun dying and styling it, putting extensions, making different hairstyles with it. It's a bit of a chore taking care of it so the pink color stays in good conditions, but it doesn't bother hir nearly as much as regular self-care stuff does. Like, if zie's not going outside, zie might not even remember to brush hir teeth, for example.

So no, zie doesn't really care a lot about how zie looks besides a few details here and there. It's something zie mostly doesn't think about.

—

Thank you for the ask, friend! <3

[palaugranetes]

FC Barcelona's INs and OUTs

Well, the summer transfer window has come to an end, and it practically ended us with it... But besides football, there was a lot of movement in the Club throughout the senior and reserve teams.

Let's see how the pieces moved this summer.

1. FOOTBALL

FC Barcelona First Team

INs

Luuk de Jong: Loaned from Sevilla until 30 June 2022 and the Club also has an option of taking the player on a permanent deal.

Yusuf Demir: Loaned from Rapid Vienna on a loan deal worth 500,000 euros until the end of the 2021/22 season with the option to make the deal permanent for 10 million euros.

Memphis Depay: Out of contract at Olympique Lyonnais, Memphis Depay has signed a contract with Barça until the end of the 2022/23 season.

Eric Garcia: Barça and Eric Garcia had reached an agreement for a contract until the end of the 2025/26 season once his time ran out at Manchester City. The defender's buy-out clause is set at 400 million euros.

Sergio Agüero: Sergio Agüero signed for Barça once his contract was up at Manchester City. The player has a contract until June 2023 and his buy-out clause is set at 100 million euros.

OUTs

Leo Messi: Something I never thought I would have to type in the OUTs section... Leo Messi was unable to continue at the Club. Despite having reached an agreement over a new contract it could not be signed due to structural and financial obstacles (Spanish Football League regulations).

Antoine Griezmann: Loaned out to Atletico Madrid, after what felt like an endless deadline day, for a season with the option of another. The Madrid club will play the player's wages and there is an obligation to make the deal permanent.

Rey Manaj: On the final day of the transfer window, he was loaned to Spezia Calcio for the fee of 300,000 euros. The Serie A club will pay the player's wages and have an option to make the deal permanent for 2.7 million euros.

Emerson Royal: After arriving this summer from Betis where he had been on loan for the last two seasons, FC Barcelona and Tottenham Hotspur reached an agreement for the transfer of the Brazilian defender for 25 million euros.

Miralem Pjanic: Loaned out to Beşiktaş for one season.

Carles Aleñá: FC Barcelona and Getafe reached an agreement for the transfer of Carles Aleñá. Barça reserves the right to 50% of any future sale of the player plus a buy-back clause and the right of first refusal.

Junior Firpo: Moved to Leeds United for a fee of 15 million euros. Barça reserves the right to 20% of any future sale of the player.

Francisco Trincão: Loaned out to Wolverhampton Wanderers until 30 June 2022. The Premier League club will pay the player's wages and have an option to make the deal permanent.

Jean-Clair Todibo: OGC Nice took up the option to make Jean-Clair Todibo for 8.5 million euros plus 7 in variables. Barça retains a percentage of any future sale of the player.

Matheus Fernandes: Contract termination

Barça B

INs

Sergi Barjuan: Signed as the team's first coach until June 30, 2023.

Guillem Jaime: He returned to the club after a year away to reinforce the squad at right-back. The player arrives on a free transfer and signs a one-year deal until 30 June 2022.

Antonio Aranda: Signed from Recreativo Granada, the Andalusian's B team, on a two-year deal until 30 June 2023 with the option of another season and a buy-out clause set at 50 million euros, rising to 100 million should he become a first-team player.

Jordi Escobar: Loaned from UD Almeria for the 2021/22 season, with Barça getting an option to buy the player at the end of the campaign.

Kays Ruiz: Returned to the Club on a free transfer and signed for three seasons with an option for another two and his buy-out clause is set at 50 million euros, rising to 100 million should he become a member of the first team.

OUTs

Ferran Jutglà: Signed as a free agent for one season through to 30 June 2022, with the option of an additional season. His buyout clause has been set at 50 million euros, and 100 million should be be promoted to the first team.

Abdeassmad Ezzalzouli: Signed from Hercules for 3 seasons + 2 optional.

Francisco Javier García Pimienta: Contract termination

Ilaix Moriba: Moved to RB Leipzig for 16 million euros plus 6 more in variables. Furthermore, the Club reserves the right to 10% of any future sale of the player.

Monchu Rodriguez: After a season on loan at Girona, the player left for Granada. Barça retains the right to 50% of any future sale of the player, a buyback option, and the right of first refusal.

Konrad de la Fuente: Moved to Olympique Marseille for 3 million euros. Barça retains a percentage of any future sale of the player.

Sergio Akieme: Almería took up the option to buy Sergio Akieme for 3.5 million euros. Barça reserves the right to 10% of any profit from a future sale of the player and the right of first refusal. 

Juan Miranda: FC Barcelona decided not to take up the option to extend his contract, and he stayed at Real Betis where he played last season on loan. Barça retains the right to 40% of any future sale of the player and the right of first refusal.

FCB FEMENI

Ludovit Reis: Moved to Hamburger Sport-Verein. The operation ensures that Barça, in addition to a series of variables, takes 25% of any future sales.

Gustavo Maia: Loaned out to Porto Alegre till December 2022

INs

Jonathan Giraldez: Promoted to Head Coach for the season, with an optional season extension.

Ingrid Engen: Signed for FC Barcelona from Wolfsburg, until 30 June 2023

Fridolina Rolfö: Signed for FC Barcelona from Wolfsburg, until 30 June 2023.

Irene Paredes: Signed for FC Barcelona from París Saint Germain, until 30 June 2023.

Claudia Pina: Back from a successful loan spell at Sevilla.

OUTs

Lluis Cortes: Stepped down as head coach after two and a half seasons at the helm.

Vicky Losada: After a life at FC Barcelona, Vicky Losada moved to Manchester City.

Kheira Hamraoui: Contract Expiration

Carla Armengoa: Contract Expiration.

Laia Codina: Season Loan to AC Milan.

Candela Andujar: Loan spell extended to Valencia.

Emma Ramirez: Season Loan to Real Sociedad.

Gio Quieroz: Season Loan to Levante.

2. Basketball

INs

Sertac Sanli: Signed from Anadolu Efes for the next two seasons until 30 June 2023

Rokas Jokubaitis: Signed from Zalgiris until 30 June 2025.

Nigel Hayes-Davis: Signed from Zalgiris until 30 June 2022.

Nicolás Laprovittola: Signed from Real Madrid for the next two seasons until 30 June 2023.

OUTs

Leandro Bolmaro: Drafted by the Minnesota Timberwolves of the NBA.

Victor Claver: Signed for Valencia Basket.

Artem Pustovyi: Contract Expiration

Léo Westermann: Signed for AS Monaco

Adam Hanga: Moved to Real Madrid

3. Handball

INs

Carlos Ortega: Will be FC Barcelona's handball coach for the next three seasons.

Ángel Fernández: Signed from Kielce for the coming season.

Leo Maciel: Signed from Ciudad Encantada for the coming season.

Ali Zein: Signed from Al Sharjah on a one-year deal with the option of a second.

Melvyn Richardson: Signed from Marseille for the next four seasons.

OUTs

Xavi Pascual: After 12 years at Barça, the coach will take charge of Dinamo Bucharest.

Raul Entrerrios: Retired after 11 years at FC Barcelona.

Jure Dolenec: Signed for Limoges Handball for the next three seasons.

Casper Mortensen: Contract Expiration.

Kevin Möller: Moved to SG Flensburg after his contract expired on 30 June.

4. Futsal

INs

Jesús Velasco: New FC Barcelona coach until 2023.

Carlos Ortiz: Signed from ACCS Paris until 30 June de 2022.

Jean Pierre Guisel Costa, 'Pito': Signed from Movistar until 2024

OUTs

Andreu Plaza: Contract Termination after 5 seasons as the first-team coach.

Jesús Aicardo: Contract Expiration, after 9 seasons at Barça.

Daniel: Contract Expiration

Ximbinha: Contract Expiration

5. Roller Hockey

OUTs

Pablo Álvarez: Contract Expiration after a decade in blaugrana.

[50kgannamolly]

[realmadridnews]

Squad

Real Madrid:

Goalkeepers: Thibaut Courtois, Andriy Lunin,

Defenders: Eder Militao, Nacho Fernandez, Marcelo, Alvaro Odriozola, Ferland Mendy

Midfielders: Toni Kroos, Luka Modric, Casemiro, Federico Valverde, Isco Alarcon

Forwards: Karim Benzema, Marco Asensio, Lucas Vazquez, Vinicius Junior, Mariano Diaz, Rodrygo Goes

Absent:

Injury: Daniel Carvajal, Sergio Ramos, Eden Hazard

Coronavirus: Raphael Varane

FC Barcelona:

Goalkeepers: Marc-Andre ter Stegen, Inaki Pena, Arnau Tenas

Defenders: Sergino Dest, Gerard Pique, Ronald Araujo, Clement Lenglet, Jordi Alba, Sergi Roberto, Samuel Umtiti, Junior Firpo, Oscar Mingueza

Midfielders: Sergio Busquets, Miralem Pjanic, Riqui Puig, Pedri, Frenkie De Jong, Ilaix Moriba

Forwards: Antoine Griezmann, Martin Braithwaite, Lionel Messi, Ousmane Dembele, Francisco Trincao

Absent:

Injury: Neto, Philippe Coutinho, Matheus Fernandes, Ansu Fati

[machinejuankelly]

Algo de lo que soy

“¿Vos querés ser periodista y trabajar en una radio? ¿Cómo vas a hacer eso? Si sos una plantita, ni mu decís”, dijo Mariana, la mamá de Juan. Ella estaba en lo correcto. Juan Cruz es un pibe introvertido, siempre le costó desenvolverse con soltura en ámbitos sociales. Matías, un amigo con el que compartió el banco toda la secundaria, contó que Juan no respondía a las preguntas de la profesora, aunque sabía las respuestas. También, agregó que muchas veces en los recreos o en las horas libres, se ponía los auriculares, abría la aplicación de la radio, clavaba el dial en la 95.1, y así pasaba el rato.

Desde chico, “el Pulu”, como le decían los abuelos, creció escuchando las anécdotas que contaban Matías Martin en "Basta de todo" o Andy Kusnetzoff y sus compañeros de "Perros de la calle". Muchas cosas no las entendía, ya que estos programas arrancaron en 2001 y 2002 respectivamente, y Juan nació en marzo de 1996. Pero podía estar horas con su papá, escuchando a esos grupos de amigos que hablaban y se reían. A medida que crecía, empezó a seguirlos por su cuenta, y se interesaba por las historias que narraban, las entrevistas, los relatos de los oyentes y los juegos entre otras cosas. Le parecía increíble que eso sea un trabajo, pero de ahí a pensar en dedicarse a eso había un camino largo.

Para el final de la secundaria, Juan estaba entre dos opciones para seguir estudiando. Una era periodismo deportivo, y la otra era psicología deportiva. El deporte no siempre fue algo que lo apasionara. Recién a los 10 años empezó a interesarse por el fútbol. Era de Boca, pero hasta ahí no le deba mucha importancia. Lo que despertó la pasión por el balón fue un joven rosarino, que era medio callado y zurdo como él, y que daba sus primeros pasos en el Barcelona. Lionel Messi dejó deslumbrado a un chico de Matheu que era fanático de los comics y lo impulsó a jugar a la pelota en la escuelita del barrio. Después creció y descubrió el atletismo por medio de los Intercolegiales. Para sorpresa de Juan, tenía muchas condiciones, sobre todo para salto en largo. Era un adolescente alto, muy flaco y con mucha potencia en las piernas. Ganó algunas competencias locales, e incluso clasificó para finales en Mar del Plata, Rosario e Imperia (Italia). Por esto es que la carrera que iba a escoger tenía que estar orientada al deporte.

Eligió psicología, un poco porque le gustaba a su madre, otro poco porque una profesora le dijo que tenía facultades. También era una ciencia que le parecía muy interesante. El amor por esa carrera duró hasta terminar el segundo año, donde decidió dejar porque no quería trabajar de eso. Entró en un mayorista de ferretería que no le gustaba, y con un futuro incierto. Hizo cursos de musculación deportiva, personal trainer, funcional trainer, y se fue a trabajar a un gimnasio. Dejó ese trabajo para empezar a estudiar nutrición, pero no terminó el CBC y volvió a abandonar. Terminó en la ferretería que tanto detestaba otra vez, pero ahí podía escuchar la radio y eso hacía el trabajo más llevadero. Estar en compañía con esa radio hizo que finalmente se animara y decidió meterse en la escuela de comunicación ETER a estudiar periodismo deportivo.

Juan le había escapado a esa carrera por miedo a no estar a la altura. Por su timidez le temía al micrófono y a las cámaras. Las personas que lo conocían se lo recordaban siempre. Pero eso no lo detuvo, y decidió seguir un sueño: trabajar en una radio. Actualmente, cursa el último año de periodismo deportivo, donde descubrió que podía escribir y, para sorpresa de todos, era el conductor en los programas de radio que hacían en la escuela. El sueño recién empezó y se lo nota muy entusiasmado de probarse a sí mismo de lo que es capaz.

[palaugranetes]

FC BARCELONA SQUAD TO FACE NASTIC

The first pre-season match is upon us. FC Barcelona host Gimnàstic Tarragona at the Estadi Johan Cruyff this evening at 19:00 PM CET.

Squad News

🛋 International players who came back yesterday are not included in the Squad: Frenkie de Jong, Memphis, Clement Lenglet and Antoine Griezmann.

🏖 Lionel Messi, Sergio Busquets, Jordi Alba, Sergio Aguero, Ronald Araujo, Emerson are still on vacation.

👥 7 first team players are available: Sergiño Dest, Gerard Pique, Miralem Pjanic, Riqui Puig, Neto Murara, Sergi Roberto, Samuel Umtiti.

🧒🏼 Gavi has been included in the first team matchday squad for the first time ever.

🏥 Marc-Andre ter Stegen is still recovering from his injury.

🏥 Ansu Fati is still recovering from his injury.

🏥 Ousmane Dembélé is still recovering from his injury.

🏥 Philippe Coutinho is still recovering from his injury.

🏥 Nico Gonzalez has not been called up due to a stomach Bug.

🔙 Sergi Roberto is fit to play.

Squad

23 players have been called up

Sergiño Dest, Gerard Pique, Miralem Pijanić, Riqui Puig, Neto Murara, Sergi Roberto, Samuel Umtiti, Iñaki Peña, Arnau Tenas, Alex Collado, Yusuf Demir, Santiago Ramos Mingo, Pablo "Gavi" Páez, Arnau Comas, Jordi Escobar, Alejandro Balde, Matheus Pereira, Igor Gomes, Peque Polo, Rey Manaj, Moussa N'diaye, Hiroki Abe, Nils Mortimer.

[50kgannamolly]

[notasapleasure]

Band AU + Joleta + 10?

Thank you for this! 10 is nightmare...everyone’s favourite nightmare child is having a lot of fun staying over with Mariotta Crawford.

Nightmare

Setting: The Band AU/1980sCharacters: Mariotta Crawford, Joleta Reid Malett, Richard Crawford, Kevin Crawford, Masterly the catRating: Mature (drugs and alcohol)Words: 4,090

Her husband is in London, her mother-in-law is away, so Mariotta Crawford is left holding baby, cat and teenager. The first two she can handle, the latter is the intimidatingly cool private school graduate Joleta Reid Malett. A fun girly evening goes quite wrong, quite predictably.

"Well, Kevin's asleep!" Mariotta rubbed her hands together nervously, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. A teenage girl was sitting at the glass-topped laminate breakfast bar, idly clicking the play/stop buttons on her Walkman. She wore a bored pout and swung her feet under the stool, making the legs of the chair squeak as they moved against the stone-tiled floor.

Why did the presence of this girl make Mariotta afraid to go into her own kitchen? There was an insouciant coolness about her: she wore the latest fashions, the in-colours of eyeshadow and lipstick, the perfectly wavy perm that all the glamour magazines were raving about. Her hair was apricot-gold, her dark-outlined eyes a haughty, chill blue, and Joleta Malett made Mariotta feel self-conscious and old, even at twenty-four.

"Is there anything you'd like to do?" she asked, and winced at the high-pitched squeak of her own voice.

Joleta looked up but did not stop clicking the buttons or swinging her feet. She shrugged.

Mariotta glanced at the bottle of rosé she'd left out on the side and made a break for it, striding across the floor with a semblance of purpose. She had been cool too, once. She could handle this. She opened the bottle with forced confidence and poured a messy glass.

Turning, she noted the girl's new interest. Mariotta raised the glass to her lips and drank, feeling the sweet liquid sting against her teeth. As she did Joleta watched her, sitting up a little from her slouch to peer at the bulbous bottle of the Matheus.

"Do you drink wine?" Mariotta asked her. It was allowed in pubs, with a meal, from fourteen. Why shouldn't this sophisticated little graduate of Swiss finishing school enjoy a glass of sophisticated Portuguese alcohol?

Joleta's perfect cherubic lips mustered a smile. Her round cheeks, lightly freckled below the dusting of blusher, rose with the corners of her mouth. "I love wine," she stopped kicking her feet and straightened her shoulders. The Walkman disappeared into the pocket of the jacket slung over her chair back and she became the picture of refinement.

Pleased that she had achieved this level of engagement, Mariotta took a second glass from the cupboard and carried it and the bottle over to Joleta. "Cheers! Here's to your first album!"

Joleta's surprisingly small hand stretched around the bowl of the glass and her smirk turned roguish.

Read on at Ao3 or beneath the cut

"Actually I've played on my brother's albums before. I didn't get credited because apparently it would have been complicated with my age, but I know what I'm doing better than some of the guys."

Settling on a stool opposite her, Mariotta blinked over the top of the glass poised at her mouth. "Is that so?"

She did not know that this was the first time such a willing audience had presented itself to Joleta since she'd arrived back in the UK. No one was impressed by teenage prodigies at Flaw Valleys, and they wanted to talk about harpsichords and clavicytheriums rather than synths and bass pedals. The men at St Mary's were equally nonplussed - Joleta suspected many of them didn't even believe her, despite the way she played.

So she began to talk about tracks and ratios at a clip that soon left Mariotta reeling, but Joleta was personable and charming and gave good cues for Mariotta to laugh in all the right places or raise her eyebrows enquiringly. She hadn't drunk much since Kevin's birth - any more than a single glass was really just for birthdays and holidays - so the alcohol rushed to her head quickly, leaving her neck warm and her head light.

The Matheus didn't last long. Joleta grew more expansive as the wine disappeared, her talk finally winding its way to fashion and bands that Mariotta knew well enough to discuss with her. Mariotta's hand, placed at a friendly closeness to Joleta's on the glass surface, tapped suddenly as Joleta spoke, rattling her silver bangles against the top. "Oh! Oh that reminds me, let me show you this!"

Mariotta, speeding from the responsibilities of her day to day life, bounded from the table and paused in the kitchen doorway. "Wait! There's a bottle of Lambrusco in there as well, do you want to open it?"

Joleta popped herself off the stool and made her own way to the fridge as indicated, striding with exaggerated dancer's steps. Mariotta giggled and ran upstairs to retrieve the memento she had recalled. She kept it in a box beneath the bed she shared with Richard: memories of a life that she had chosen to leave behind, but that she felt should be preserved, as though it kept the girl she had been then alive, still partying on O'Connell Street, still dreaming of her own fashion line or art gallery.

When she returned Joleta handed her a rather full glass and they clinked the drinks together. "Sláinte!" Mariotta grinned. "You can add that to the languages you know it in already!"

"Prost! Santé! Salute! Skål! Kan-pie! Na zdorovie!" Joleta chanted with a sparkling laugh. "Sláinte," she inclined her head and drank.

Mariotta took a bigger gulp than intended on a surprised gasp at the number of languages the girl came out with, and had to cough and bang her fist against her chest. "Mary, mother of God. Ok, I went to get this to show you." She put the photo album down on the counter and flipped past pages of her childhood. "Here we go!"

With an unfiltered, goofy grin, Mariotta turned the photo album towards Joleta, who tucked her apricot hair behind an ear to peer closely at it.

The photo had been taken with black and white film. Mariotta was a dark-haired slip of a thing, a Morrigan in sequined tank top, the same slightly daft, excited grin on her face, though the image was eight years old. She was surrounded by tousled party-goers and cheerful smiles, her thin shoulders hugged close under the arm of a very recognisable man: leather-jacketed, mop-haired.

"Is that Bono?" Joleta squeaked. Her eyes went very round, her face turned very pink, and Mariotta laughed delightedly.

"Yeah! I went with some schoolmates, saw them when they were just starting out. The craic that night was great, we stayed all night in McDaid's. It was the world's tiniest lock-in."

Joleta looked at the photo and then again at Mariotta. She picked up her wine and took a large gulp and finally intoned: "That is so amazing. Tell me all about it!"

They moved through to the sitting room, wine and photo album and all. Sybilla's Maine Coon cat, the luxuriously furred tabby Masterly, was displaced from the couch with no sentimentality. He regarded the two women laughing on his bed with a disgusted twitch of his ears and flick of his tail, and retreated to the armchair by the gas fireplace.

As the night wore on, Mariotta could not have said at what point the reminiscences turned into re-enactment - she did know that the vodka was hers and the cocaine was Joleta's.

It wasn't clear whether the fact of the latter had ever actually been a surprise. There was no evidence of drugs in the photos Mariotta showed the girl - just parties of fashionable Dubs and St Andrews undergrads, but Mariotta must have carelessly mentioned coke in one of her tales, eager for the younger woman's approval. Joleta simply returned from the kitchen at some point with her coat in hand, rummaging in a pocket. She cut the lines on the coffee table with practiced expertise using a pre-paid phone card, and Mariotta poured two shots of vodka and nodded with equanimity.

The conversation took whatever turns it took: bands, lead singers, tight trousers, right through, in logical enough fashion, to Mariotta's tight-trousered, lead-singing brother-in-law. Lymond was laid out before them like a centre-fold in a pop magazine, appraised from his thin, muscular legs up to the perfect wave of his hair when he tossed it from his eyes to gaze, piercing blue, at his audience.

It was a topic to keep them occupied for hours. When Mariotta finally slumped, fully-clothed, on top of her bedcovers, photo album clutched beneath her, she enjoyed very little actual sleep. It felt like mere moments after she had rubbed her face contentedly in a pillow smelling of Richard when she was woken by a hiss and a yowl.

"Ah, Masterly, no," she groaned. "You can wait!"

"Mam! MAM!"

That was Kevin. That couldn't wait.

"Oh fuck," Mariotta said feelingly - and quietly - as she struggled to the edge of the bed. "What is it, sweetheart?"

She pressed her fingertips into her scalp and tried to listen past the roaring, thumping pulse inside her skull. Beyond the room there was definitely something else making a thudding sound of its own: a hollow, repetitive hammering on stairs and carpeted floors. The cat yowled again.

"Mam look at Masterly!"

Her tired legs took her in an unsteady path to the bedroom door and she squinted at the corridor. Kevin was standing at the stair gate on the landing of the second floor, fists wrapped around the bars like a tiny prisoner as he stared down the staircase.

"Look look look Mam, here he comes again!" Kevin shrieked, and Mariotta ground her teeth and clutched her head.

The thundering of feet grew louder, and sure enough the cat soon appeared on his way up from the ground floor, moving faster than Mariotta had ever seen him. He ran with his claws out, catching and ripping at the carpet pile as he went, splintering the surface of the skirting board when he decided to proceed along the landing on his side, his paws pulling him along the wall. Mariotta bent sluggishly to catch him and he howled with rage, springing away from her grasp, rattling between the legs of a plant stand so that the aspidistra atop quivered, and drubbing the surface of the stairs with his galloping paws all the way up to Kevin at the top. Behind the stair gate, Kevin screamed again: Masterly screamed back, turned around, and ran all the way back downstairs again.

"Oh my sweet Christ," Mariotta muttered.

She smoothed her clothes, reached inside the room for a bottle of perfume and doused herself liberally in it. She ran a brush through her hair and picked up her sunglasses.

"Kevin, give your Mam one second to catch Masterly, then I'll pop up and we'll sort your breakfast, ok?"

"NO," Kevin tugged at the stair gate. "I wanna play!"

"No child, he's not a happy kitty, I don't think he wants to play with you this morning."

Mariotta tottered down to the ground floor with a firm grip on the bannister, letting Kevin's predicted objections wash over her throbbing head.

The sitting room was remarkably tidy, considering the grimy, unwashed feeling in Mariotta's head, mouth and stomach. One half-drunk bottle of vodka, stuck to the coffee table with its own spillings, two empty glasses, similarly sticky. Barely any white powder at all.

With a feral growl, Masterly shot out from under a chair, hurtling past Mariotta's legs so close his fur brushed her calves. The shock of it made her scream, though she was immediately annoyed with herself for having done so.

Summoned by the sound, Joleta plodded out of the ground floor study, where the sofa bed was kept. She rubbed her eyes ostentatiously and yawned, and Mariotta didn't find it that convincing.

"Morning. What's up?"

Mariotta put her hands on her hips. "Did you give the cat cocaine?"

"What?!" Joleta laughed despite herself.

"Did you give the cat cocaine?" Mariotta repeated in the tone of voice she'd normally reserve for Kevin if he had drawn on the wallpaper with marker pen.

Joleta blinked. Maybe she was surprised that her pal from the night before was now acting like a grown-up in charge of her. But she shrugged and folded her arms and answered. "No. I might not have cleaned it up that well..."

Mariotta scoffed, but she was grateful for the honesty, and let a sympathetic smirk show through. "Come on, come and help me catch that bloody cat."

With the aid of a full double duvet and a willingness to suffer carpet-burned knees, they managed to get Masterly into his travel cage with minimal blood loss. He wailed his displeasure and tried to chew the bars; he batted at his surroundings with huge fluffy paws and hissed at his own tail. The two women stood staring down at the cage and it was Mariotta's turn to shrug at Joleta. "He'll probably be ok? If he'd OD'ed we'd already know about it, right?"

The teenager crouched to peer at the cat, her expression lit by morbid fascination. "I suppose so. Are you just going to leave him in there?"

"No, Sybilla's back this weekend, I'll not risk it. I'll call a taxi to the vet." Abruptly, Mariotta folded her arms and looked down at Joleta. "Can I trust you, just this morning, to look after Kevin?"

Joleta blinked up at her. She seemed tired at last, shadows under her eyes forming in response to the unforgiving morning light. Her make-up was smudged on her cheeks and her permed hair looked  brittle and tatty. She had changed into a baggy, long-sleeved nightshirt printed with the slogan I need all the friends I can get, and, incongruously to Mariotta's tortured brain, a picture of Snoopy and Woodstock.

Mariotta dropped her face into one hand. "I cannot believe I am asking this. Joleta, please will you babysit Kevin for me while I take the cat that has ingested cocaine to the vet? Will you please reassure me you will look after my son and not let him have any hard drugs?"

"The coke is finished," Joleta murmured a little dreamily.

Mariotta stared back, suddenly disgusted at herself for ever having been nervous of this child's opinion. "Good. I'm going to get Kevin's breakfast ready, then go up and get him, and by the time we're down in the kitchen, you'll have tidied up these glasses and put the vodka in the freezer, and wiped that table down properly, is that right?"

The girl blanched and looked like she wanted to object: public school entitlement was at war with public school discipline. Still, while she might never have had to clean her living area on a regular basis, she would certainly know how to hide evidence after a party, and she'd know how to do it better than it had been done last night. After a moment in which defiance subsided into a sulky resignation, Joleta decided she did respect Mariotta enough to listen, and she nodded as she stood.

When the taxi arrived the sitting room was spotless. Masterly had reduced his complaints to a revving growl that only escalated when his cage was moved, Kevin had been fed and most of the cereal had gone inside him or been caught by his bib. Exhaustion made Mariotta desperate and thorough: her ruthless impatience drove Joleta to obedience.

Mariotta stepped from the door, cat cage in one hand, chilled Irn Bru in the other, sunglasses firmly shielding her from the white light outside. Joleta lifted Kevin up to the big bay window of the study so he could wave at the taxi, and she told him they would watch a film together, which Kevin was very pleased about.

The veterinary nurses tutted; the vet herself simply pulled on a pair of thick gloves and gave Mariotta a disgusted look. Masterly was examined - carefully, through bars - a blood sample was taken - also through bars - and he was admitted to have the drug flushed from his system. Free of the yowling creature, free of the smell of disinfectant and warm lino, Mariotta decided to savour the fresh air and walk back to the house on Drumsheugh.

Despite the night's absurdity, Mariotta felt oddly proud of herself. The morning madness had called for leadership, for an adult who could sort things out and who knew what needed to be done. Mariotta had indeed sorted the mess out and got the important things done. She felt authoritative and confident. She would return home to find a clean house, a happy child, and a tired, well-behaved teenager, meek and apologetic, grateful for Mariotta's trust. The three of them might enjoy another movie together! Joleta's brother would be in touch later to pick her up, and Richard would phone in the afternoon like he always did. The day might actually be salvaged into a pretty good one, all things considered.

The house was dark and quiet, warm like a nest, all curtains drawn. Mariotta didn't know why, but she felt the lack of Masterly immediately, and shut the front door with a pang of guilt. In the sitting room, she could hear the TV, and she tip-toed across the lino floor to peer in on the children.

Joleta sat with her knees curled up beneath her, and her duvet slung over her shoulders. Kevin was curled under her arm, fast asleep against her body. It was only as Mariotta took in the wider surroundings that this peaceful picture began to give her doubts. For one, Joleta did not have a cup of tea to soothe her headache, rather she was holding a bottle of lager, its label distressed and picked at, peelings scattered across the coffee table. The second troubling thing was the movie: one Kevin had requested to watch many times, and each time found it too frightening to continue.

Mariotta had spent more nights than she cared to count soothing a sobbing toddler who did not understand why the minotaur in Time Bandits had to die at the hands of a man who reminded Kevin of his father. That the boy in the film shared her son's name always made it exponentially more terrifying for him, but periodically this was forgotten and Kevin would beg to watch his namesake's adventures again.

Now the film hurtled towards its denouement while the child slept on peacefully, which implied a series of events Mariotta simply could not comprehend.

Joleta turned and smiled up at her with the same innocuous, pastel-tinted glow Mariotta remembered from the previous evening. She wore her hangover lightly now, youth - and that hair of the dog she'd helped herself to - giving her an advantage. "How is the cat?"

Mariotta folded her arms. "He'll be grand. Where did you find that, then?"

"Oh, I saw them in the fridge last night when I got the Lambrusco out," she said blithely, taking a sip. "There's lots left, I only had a couple."

"And I see you've been watching Time Bandits?" Mariotta's voice was rising in pitch despite her best efforts. Better to ignore the previous response for now.

The girl grinned and cuddled Kevin, who remained heavily asleep under her arm, his tousled dark hair catching in his thick eyebrows. "Kevin said he liked it, so we put that on." She paused for a moment to drink her beer and Mariotta flinched and took a step forward when Joleta gestured with the rim of the bottle towards the sleeping child's mouth. "But he started screaming and it had barely started and I didn't know what to do. So I gave him some of my drink and it calmed him down. He got tipsy and then just fell asleep!" Joleta's laugh was like a cascade of notes from a mark tree, disorienting in its merriness.

Mariotta held her hands in her armpits, but she felt them quiver in time with the muscles of her neck and mouth. The anger was instant and cold, a primal and innate thing that almost frightened her with its force. "You did what?"

Joleta's blue eyes went round, and her cheeks grew red, so something of Mariotta's feeling must have been visible. She opened her mouth to explain, but Mariotta was already holding one shaking finger out at the end of an outstretched arm. "Go to your room."

"It's not my room-"

"Go to your room!"

"But it isn't-"

"Joleta I said get into that room right this instant, or I will call your brother and tell him every detail of this."

Joleta had untangled Kevin from her arm and tucked the duvet around her shoulders, but still she stayed on the couch, pouting up at Mariotta. "But you did it too. I'll tell him that if you say anything. I'll tell Sybilla and Richard."

Mariotta, fired up with the kind of adrenaline that knew only a single purpose, flung herself instantly on this threat. "Fine. Tell him what you like. You were the one who brought drugs into this house and that will be made amply clear to him. I will speak to my own husband, thank you very much, and if you think he won't take my word over any lies you try to tell then you are gravely mistaken."

Joleta's golden brows lowered and she scowled and reached out for her beer bottle. Mariotta swiped it from the table and pointed again at the study. Dishevelled and deflated, Joleta stood with the duvet wrapped around her, and she paused to gather herself, arranging it with all the dignity of a diva in a fur coat before leaving the sitting room in silence.

Mariotta was on the couch before the study door had closed, cradling Kevin close and examining his breathing, his temperature, his colour. Muttering apologies and affection into his hair as her eyes misted up with tears, she rocked her son until he woke complaining, his voice hoarse and grouchy and his displeasure only rising as she peppered him with wet kisses and salt water. His breath smelled a little beery, and he did not want to drink the water and juice she got for him, but his tiredness remained such that she was able to win him over, and shortly had claimed the whole couch for herself, a mug of tea on the coffee table and the far less controversial Robin Hood cartoon in the video player. It didn't matter that Kevin was asleep on her chest and she was the only one watching it. Mariotta smiled to herself at the spectacle, hummed along with the songs, and listened to her son's peaceful breathing.

It was the best part of an hour before Joleta emerged and quietly asked if she might have some fresh batteries for her Walkman. Contrite and now clothed in double denim and a colourful t-shirt, her hair brushed and face cleaned of make-up, she presented herself beside Mariotta like a penitent and spoke with a flourish of pleases and thank yous when instructed where to find the batteries.

In the afternoon, Joleta's brother picked her up, and Mariotta struggled through Kevin's hangover and her own. They went to the park, but the park was too bright. They tried to watch more films but Kevin got bored and the sound hurt Mariotta's head. Kevin played with his toys, but his co-ordination was sluggish and it made him angry. Mariotta tried to read but the page kept blurring before her eyes.

She threw herself on the phone when it rang at last, and the warm, familiar burr of her husband's voice reached her. Gathered in her arms at the kitchen counter, Kevin even mustered the energy to yell "PA!" down the phone.

"Hullo champ, how's it going?" Richard asked.

Mariotta moved the handset away from Kevin's reach and greeted Richard with relief. "Hi darling, it's so good to hear from you."

Richard laughed, and the sound of it nearly made Mariotta cry again, she was so tired. "Are you all right, Mari? One day looking after a teenager enough for now?"

"Richard don't even joke about it. It was a nightmare."

His tone instantly switched to one of concern, and Mariotta berated herself. "A nightmare? What happened? Do you need any help?"

She made herself chuckle, though it felt raw and dry in her throat. "No, no...It's fine. I just thought teenagers would be easier to entertain than toddlers."

"Oh darling. I'm sorry. You know it will happen to Kevin some day, too?" She could hear the breadth of his smile, imagine the creases of humour at his eyes. "Do you want me to see if we can get him sent back before it's too late?"

Perhaps, on this occasion, Richard Crawford was fully justified in his confusion when his wife burst into exhausted tears.

[wildroseofarran]

Barnacles || Tristan, Oliver, & Ronan

Oliver: The day was hotter than he'd ever felt before from Edenton. Sweltering, nasty heat like he'd felt on his deployments.

Oliver felt in the cooler for something to drink. How were they out of everything? He could swear he could see the water evaporating from the goddamn ocean.

Off came his tattered gray shirt, tucked into his jeans.

"At this point I fuckin' pray for another hurricane," he called to Tristan.

Tristan: "Bite your tongue, Cole," Tristan called back. He too was shirtless, hair piled into a messy bun and sweat pouring down his forehead. "Unless you wanna put in another few days of ship maintenance."

Oliver: "So long as this thing don't have a breakdown. I'll get under the boat right fuckin' now if it got me a drink."

Tristan: He poked his head around the corner. "That a serious offer? Feel like scraping barnacles?"

Oliver: "Get me some fuckin' cold drinks n'I'll dive right now."

Tristan: "Is there any more ice in the freezer? There's a case of water in the cabin but it's at room temp. Probably hot as fuck just like everything else."

Oliver: "S'more like a slushie at this point. Toss it in the cooler n'I'll get started."

Tristan: "Done. Grab the goggles and tool belt."

Hell, maybe he'd join him, he thought as he went into the sweltering cabin to get the water.

Oliver: Back to following orders, tossing his shirt into the cabin, along with his necklace he'd forgotten to remove. He didn't need a tan line of a cross on his chest.

"Hear 'bout that tropical storm brewin'?"

Tristan: "Yeah. If it turns into another full-blown hurricane I'm gonna lose my goddamn mind. I tell you my dock at home took a beating? Gonna have to take a weekend to fix it."

Oliver: "I'll help with that, man."

Ronan: Tristan would feel his phone buzz. It would be a message from Ronan, a picture of him and the stranger from far away.

{Text} Send me $1m or I'll kill ur daughter. I have her hidden away & I've got eyes on u RIGHT NOW

Tristan: "Seriously? Thanks. I'll pay you in beer and margaritas. And actual money."

He felt in his pocket for his phone, squinting at it for a moment before laughing.

{Text to Ronan} Are you creeping on me over there?

Oliver: "Ya had me at beer." The laughter had him turning, body beginning to bead with sweat. The house tattoo on his arm was given the illusion of being rained on with his perspiration. He wiped his mouth and pointed.

"Someone ya know?"

Ronan: {Text} Bitch I might be. Whos the guy???! U have other friends??? disappointed

Tristan: "Yep, sure is. That's my friend Ronan."

{Text} The guy is Oliver, he works with me

{Text} Take a break from creeping and come meet him

Oliver: "Now that's a name." Over the side of the deck he went.

"Can he help with the barnacles?"

Ronan: {Text} I dunno. Whwt do i get in return?

Tristan: “Is he physically capable? Yes. Will he? Highly doubtful.”

{Text} My company and everlasting platonic love

{Text} Also pizza later

Oliver: "Great. What's he, a Northerner?"

Ronan: {Text} u had me at pizza.

He'll be over shortly, eyeing up the stranger the closer he got.

Tristan: “Irishman. One who’s not all that crazy about manual labor.”

{Text} Deal. Be polite, okay?

Tristan put his phone away and waved as Ronan approached. “Hey, renaissance man.”

Oliver: "Renaissance man? That your official title?" Oliver called.

Ronan: "Actually my full title is Renaissance Man De La Miguel Rodriguez the Third."

Ronan: He hadn't seen that last message, so he doesn't have to be polite. That's the law.

Tristan: Tristan chuckled and shook his head. “It’s his nickname. Ro, this is Oliver, my first mate. Oliver, this is my friend Ronan.”

Oliver: A stained rough hand was brought out for Ronan to take.

"Sup, man?"

Ronan: Gross. He smacked Oliver's palm with his own by way of greeting. "Hey. What's goin' on?"

Oliver: Uh, the fuck? His gaze remained steady despite his desire to glance at his captain.

"Anyway. Gonna start scrubbin'."

Ronan: Ronan finally looked at Oliver's face properly, having to drag his eyes away from those gross hands. He smirked. Where has Tristan been hiding this fucker?

"Or you guys stop workin' for the day an' we go out for some drinks?"

Oliver: "M'at the whim of my captain, but also wherever the beer flows."

Tristan: “The beer can flow after we scrape those barnacles.” Tristan gave Ronan a look. “No distracting my crew, you.” My straight crew.

Ronan: Ronan gave Tristan a wink. Suuuuuuuuuure thing, Captain.

"Stop bein' such a killjoy, your little boat will still be here tomorrow."

Oliver: "Could help n'get it over with? I'll buy ya two rounds of your favorite drink."

Tristan: Tristan grinned at the suggestion. Ronan doing physical labor was a delightful thought.

Ronan: "My clothes are worth a bit too much t'start... what did you say? Fuckin' scrubbin'?" Yeah, no.

Oliver: "Yeah. Ya take those off." He gestured between himself and Tristan, very much shirtless and sun baked.

Tristan: “And if you’re particularly attached to your pants, you can take those off, too. We won’t judge your choice in underwear.”

Ronan: Why is Tristan gesturing like Ronan hadn't very much noticed........ He may need to make a point of walking this way every day from now on.... What time do you start work, guys? Which days? Asking for a friend.

"I've got silk underwear on, so I'd have t'take those off too."

Oliver: Oliver's smile returned with a mischievous show of teeth.

"Tris, ya still got a scuba suit in the cabin?"

Tristan: Tristan grinned back. “Ya know, as a matter of fact I do. Goggles and everything.”

Ronan: Ugh fuck. "How 'bout I jus' support you, like, emotionally?"

Oliver: "Gonna miss out on free shots."

Tristan: He chuckled. "Go on then. You can heckle us while we scrape."

Ronan: "Heckle?" Hm... but the free rounds... "What would I have t'do if I helped?"

Oliver: "Ya take this here - or this brush - n'ya remove the shit on the sides of the boat." He'd deal with the bottom.

Tristan: Tristan was riding the same train of thought. "Just the sides, don't worry about the bottom. We'll take care of that. If you decide to help, that is.'

Ronan: He inspected the boat from where he was stood.

"Gimme your pants." He gestured to Tristan.

Tristan: "You wanna wear my pants instead of the scuba suit?"

Ronan: "It's gonna be fuckin' tight an' shit."

Tristan: "Have you ever been in a scuba suit? It's designed to be mobile and comfortable in the water. Especially this one since it's me sized and not you sized."

Ronan: "An' clingy. You tryna catch a glimpse of my cock size?" the question was directed at both Tristan and Oliver. "Jus' gimme your pants. You can wear the suit."

Oliver: Gayyyy. "They won't fit ya anyway. You're already fuckin' wearin' pants." And he was removing his own in favor of the new black, red, and blue board shorts in the cabin. The door creaked halfway shut behind him. If Ronan was determined, he would catch a glimpse of perfect swimmer's tan, accentuating the pale firm muscle of his ass.

Tristan: “It can’t cling if it’s too big for you,” he chuckled. “Also, it’s not silk. Silk clings. And Oliver’s right, my pants are too big for you, but if you insist. Just tighten my belt all the way.”

Ronan: "Yeah but mine are fuckin' clean an' nice. This is what clothes are meant t'look like. Must be a shock." Ronan would glance but nothing else... even if the image would linger with him for a moment after looking away.

"Uh huh. You're so lucky I'm even doin' this for you, you likkle prick."

Tristan: "Aww, you cut me to the quick." He grinned and kissed Ronan's cheek. "Yes, I'm very lucky. Thank you."

Tristan proceeded to strip out of his jeans. Unlike Oliver, he already had his trunks on underneath as he'd been vaguely planning to tackle the barnacles before the ungodly heat forced his hand. "Here you go. I need to get my tank on."

Ronan: Ronan was clearly very proud of himself! He smiled to prove it. The kiss helped.

"Don't start fallin' in love with me, 'kay?" He takes the jeans. Yeah. Pretty huge. He'll need to swap one pair for another... where... should he change...

Oliver: Oliver widened the door to the cabin and stretched. It seemed his favorite boss caved.

"So how pale are ya, Irish? I wanna see veins. Ya better bring honor t'Ireland," he smirked.

Tristan: "I'll try my best," Tristan chuckled, gathering his goggles and scuba tank from a storage compartment.

Ronan: Hm. He steps towards the cabin, putting a hand on Oliver's chest in order to guide him out of the way.

"I grew up in Italy an' have been around America for years. I'm tan, thanks."

Oliver: Touchy feely. Not new by any means, and not a surprise. What little he knew of the man, the touch was accepted.

"Italy, huh? Ya like the Mediterranean?"

Ronan: "Nah, fish kinda freak me out. Why the fuck do they move like that? Eugh, yikes." He stepped into the cabin to start changing. He'll have to message Matheus and let him know, too. Ronan'll also send a picture of his shirt folded up neatly and ask if he's proud.

Oliver: {Text via Matheus} Very tight fold. You've learned well.

Tristan was given a smile, humored by this random piece of information. A phobia, maybe?

"What about, ha, octopus? That do anything to ya?"

Tristan: Tristan was laughing as he strapped his tank on.

"He'd have told me, wouldn't you, Ronan? He would've freaked out every time he saw the one tatted on my arm. Speaking of, think I'll get another. Maybe a giant squid on my leg somewhere. Or a Kraken."

Ronan: "You should let Conor do it. You won't find any tattoo artist with as much experience as him." He smirked. It was a joke only he and Tristan would get.

He emerged changed, shirtless, and with the belt keeping Tristan's trousers up. "I'm fine with them. They don't move like-" he gestured the wishy-washy movement with a hand.

Oliver: The thirst which had nearly suffocated him had been quenched. Quietly, he got to work, tethered to the boat with rope and carabineer.

"I shoulda been in the Navy," he muttered, disappearing behind the port side with a wink.

Tristan: Tristan hummed thoughtfully. He actually hadn't thought of that. "Maybe I'll pop by his place and ask him," he said, smiling at Ronan. "See what he'll charge me."

He grabbed some gloves and a scraper for Ronan. "That's seriously the only thing that freaks you out about fish? The way they swim?"

Ronan: "I'll get him t'do it t'you for fre- actually you're makin' him do this, so I'm gonna tell him t'charge you double." the gloves and scraper were snatched. He put the gloves on far from gracefully. "They look weird an' move weird. An' they're wet ALL the time, or they die. It's fuckin' weird. Weird!"

Tristan: “You will not be present during price negotiations,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, I pay well. Just ask Oliver.”

He laughed again. “Ain’t their fault. They’re just trying to live their lives. All right, into the water, Renaissance man.”

Ronan: "... Are there fishes around here?" He shuddered. "Talkin' about 'em freaked me out..."

Oliver: "Get in the fuckin' water!" came from the other side of the boat.

Tristan: "Nah, not in this area. The noise and activity from the ships scares them away. Come on. Oliver will show you how to do it."

Tristan adjusted his oxygen and his goggles and lowered himself into the water. A few moments later he disappeared beneath the hull.

Ronan: "Fuck you!" He casually called back. He watched Tristan disappear into the water and... shuddered. "Ugh. Gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Oliver: "You'll be fuckin' fine! C'mere n'start scrapin' with me."

Ronan: "You come HERE!" grumpy grumpy.

Oliver: A head peeked from the edge a moment later. "What d'ya want, an audience?"

Ronan: No, he just wanted to be a brat.

"You're on thin fuckin' ice."

Oliver: "That was easy," he smirked.

Ronan: "What was?"

Oliver: "Gettin' on thin fuckin' ice." Beads of sweat and ocean were wiped from his brow. "If ya can't swim just say so."

Ronan: He scoffed. "Can't an' won't are different."

Oliver: "The result's the same." He held out his hand. "Come on. I'll help ya down."

Ronan: He squinted at the hand. "I thought you weren't a pansy."

Oliver: "Says the man afraid of fish."

Ronan: "What's that got t'do with bein' a pansy?"

Oliver: "You're a fuckin' pussy."

Ronan: "People wanna fuck me? True."

Oliver: "People wanna fuck you?"

Ronan: "Yeah. Like a pussy." Is there a fish somewhere he can throw at this fucker?

Oliver: "You're alright with that?"

Ronan: "Are YOU?"

Oliver: "I ain't into all that gay stuff. N'I ain't wantin' a conversation. Just get in."

Ronan: He gave the other a dirty look.

"You sound like-" me not that long ago. "Make me, nigga!"

Oliver: "If you were any less black you'd be clear." A splash followed his disappearance from view.

Ronan: Eyes rolled. Yeah. He's not gonna help. He'll find a place to sit and smoke some weed instead.

Tristan: It was a few minutes before Tristan's head popped out of the water again.

He looked around. "Ro?"

Ronan: "Mm? Your friend's a piece of shit. Wanna smoke?"

Tristan: "Ro, you're supposed to be helping!"

Oliver: "He's just gonna keep tellin' me why people wanna fuck him."

Ronan: "Go back t'your fish friends!"

Tristan: "Jesus Christ. Ro, if you weren't gonna get in why take my pants?"

Ronan: "I was gonna get in 'til he annoyed me, now I don't wanna help him."

Tristan: "You're not helping him, you're helping me."

Ronan: "Ughhhh why you gotta pull that shit?"

Tristan: Tristan flashed his best smile. “Is it working?”

Ronan: "Bitch it might be." He threw his joint into the water and below and shuddered. He hadn't even smoked enough to calm his nerves yet, but apparently here he goes... "How do I get in?"

Tristan: He laughed. "Nice to know I still have my charm. There's a ladder on the side there. I'll catch you if you need."

Ronan: "Uhhhh huh." he just had to... uh... do some stretches first...

Tristan: Tristan swam over to the ladder and offered up a hand to Ronan. "C'mere, renaissance man. I've gotcha."

[freelance-informatique]

L'Atlético renouvèle le prêt de Griezmann

Antoine Griezmann passera la saison 2022/23 en prêt à l'Atletico Madrid. Les Colchoneros auraient activé une clause dans leur accord avec le FC Barcelone. Cela signifie que l'attaquant français restera au Wanda Metropolitano en 2022/23 avant d'éventuellement rejoindre définitivement les Rojiblancos l'année prochaine. Il devrait bénéficier du départ de Suarez Selon une information de Catalunya Radio, Antoine Griezmann va passer une nouvelle saison en prêt à l'Atletico Madrid. Les Colchoneros ont activé une clause dans leur accord avec Barcelone. Le champion du monde français a connu pas mal de difficulté au cours des dernières années. Il est passé du statut de l'un des meilleurs joueurs du monde à une coquille de sa meilleure version. Le vainqueur de la Coupe du Monde de la FIFA 2018 était autrefois classé au même niveua que Cristiano Ronaldo et Lionel Messi. Mais son niveau de performance a chuté de manière drastique depuis qu'il a rejoint le FC Barcelone en juillet 2019. Après deux saisons marquées par l'inconstance avec le FC Barcelone, Griezmann est retourné à l'Atletico Madrid en prêt l'été dernier. Mais le joueur de 31 ans n'a marqué que huit buts et délivré sept passes décisives en 39 matchs toutes compétitions confondues. Cependant, cela n'a pas suffi pour dissuader l'Atletico Madrid d'ajouter une année supplémentaire à son contrat de prêt. L'international français devrait prendre de l'envergure à l'Atletico Madrid après le départ de Luis Suarez du Wanda Metropolitano en tant qu'agent libre. L'ancien attaquant du FC Barcelone était l'un des candidats pour les deux postes en attaque dans le système de Diego Simeone. Lire aussi : L'Atlético Madrid cible une pépite belge ! Les prétendants ne manquent pas Griezmann sera désormais en concurrence avec Joao Felix, Matheus Cunha et Angel Correa. Ce dernier aurait un avenir incertain à l'Atletico Madrid. Le joueur prêté par le FC Barcelone souhaiterait rejoindre les Rojiblancos de façon permanente.  Mais il faudra attendre la fenêtre des transferts de l'été prochain. Pour l'instant, les Colchoneros ont activé une clause dans son contrat de prêt. Cela leur permettra de bénéficier des services de l'attaquant de 31 ans en prêt pour la saison 2022/23. Et si Griezmann réussi à convaincre par ces performances, il pourra rejoindre définitivement l'Atletico Madrid pour 40 millions d'euros. L'international français a également suscité l'intérêt de plusieurs autres clubs de Liga. L'Athletic Club de Bilbao et la Real Sociedad souhaitent le recruter. Mais le joueur du FC Barcelone restera à l'Atletico Madrid et devrait passer la saison 2022/23 au Wanda Metropolitano. Lire aussi : Antoine Griezmann : La Real Sociedad en fait une priorité ! Read the full article

[the-amour-scientia-series]

Stark-white, Cathy noted, glancing over the unfinished paint job of the Premingers' old picket fence. The former pale yellow was still peeking out from under the the few hasty coats, like a lookout being caught before detention. It made their white-and gray mini-manor look like a hospital lab complex. Even the small front lawn was trimmed and dotted with new patches of grass. It was still early afternoon. Mr and Mrs Preminger were both on separate work trips, but Desiree's senior semester wasn't starting until a few weeks from now, and Andrea was busy helping her with her art thesis. But when she rapped on the door upon reaching the final step, she was surprised that it hadn't been either sister. Eric mirrored her shock, his new glasses sliding slightly off his nose. There was the mark of the frame on his temple, as he fell asleep on a table. The crumple on the sleeves of his pastel button-down confirmed it. For a moment he just stood there blinking, as if he just stepped out of the closet and into the morning. Cathy regarded his half-combed ebony hair, no long enough to sweep past his ears and brows. Like curtains coming to a close after a show. She resisted the urge to touch it. Eric never left home with ungelled hair. Over the weeks of her coming over to the Premingers', Eric had always been strangely asleep. Whether in the morning, or lunchtime, or even when she took a chance one 2 am. Andrea would find him crashed on the couch, or a kitchen stool, even after he'd just finished his coffee, minutes before Cathy would arrive. And Cathy would stay nonetheless, watching him dream of things she would never know of. Was he having nightmares too? Regaining composure, he cleared his throat. "Cathy. It's great to see you." "Great to see you too, Eric," she smiled, and without realizing it she had reached out a free hand and touched his arm. It felt desperate, needy, as if he might collapse again at the mere sight of her. It was meant to be a handshake, after all. Catherine Imogen and Deric Preminger always meant business. Eric gave a confused start, but didn't resist. "Just making sure you're really awake," she joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Were you expecting me?" He still hadn't moved. "I was . . .  reading a book. I was getting sleepy but your knocking startled me . . . " Cathy's heart lept, and her hand eased off his elbow. Had it worked? "Care to come inside? I think there's still some pesto bread from lunch. I could toast us a few." "Don't---" she quickly ran through decisions in her head. Stay, and she would have to risk answering his questions. Leave, and she might not see him awake again for months. He noticed her delay, and added, "Des and Dea are on a shopping trip til tomorrow. I was hoping we could . . . talk." Of course, the questions. Eric may have slept for months, but he was still the Eric she knew. Charming enough to satisfy his inquisitive curiosity, yet too headstrong to realize his vulnerabilities. She pushed towards him the novel she was holding the whole time, fingertips slightly brushing as he took it and regarded the cover with a strange look on his face. "I actually just came by to give you this," she finally said, folding her hands behind her back and playing with a lock of long hair. "It's a good fantasy-romance. But it's still realism anyway." He leafed through the pages, thumbing a few occasionally. The long-ish black locks stubbornly made him look like a different person. "Have you been the one returning books to me these past weeks?" She sighed. Leave it to Eric to piece everything together. "What have your sisters been telling you?" "An old friend was returning the books she borrowed from me since she was starting to pack for college. But given the amount of fantasy-mystery hybrids I've been getting, I figured there was something going on." "I thought you liked fantasy-mystery hybrids." He crossed his arms. "I'm not so sure. I've been reading them for a connection, and so far there's been none." "None at all?" Cathy felt her smile fade. "Barely anything to keep me keeping volumes of it on my shelf, that is. Listen, if you don't wanna stay inside, at least have a snack while I change. Let's go for a walk." With five simple words, Eric was already alive and inviting. Cathy had spent so much time seeing him curled up so vulnerably, free from the regrets and consequences of the waking world. She wondered if she had preferred he stay that way, rather than his energy, his enthusiasm, set the unpredictabilities of her formerly routinary days. "You're not gonna read the book yet?" she asked, testing the waters. "I can still do it later. Besides, the house is getting stuffy." ========= Eric immediately led her to the kitchen, as if it were the only place she could remain in the house. But Eric's sisters had taken her to the family room, library, and even in Eric's room where he would sometimes sleep through morning and noon. She'd kept vigil over his sleep, stroking his soft hair and wishing for the calm that had stolen him away. That was all she could ask for comfort. Their kitchen was all polished metal-gray and white tile, but the Premingers rarely made their own meals. Andrea was still learning, but she was learning fast. The garlic pesto bread was as good as gourmet. Cathy was on her second roll when she heard the bedsprings give a sudden loud creak. Panic rising into her chest, she shoved the rest of it into her mouth and ran up to his room, crossing the dining hall where Desiree's eccentric paintings hung. She could feel the stuffiness rising from the canvases, an odd sickly heated scent. But Cathy shoved it away as she reached the top of the stairs, breathlessly, where she could see the half-open door, her former rival passed out. He had managed to get into socks and cargo shorts. But the buttons on his polo hadn't been buttoned, and his half-fetal position told her he was doing that just then. He even still had his glasses on. She deliberately avoided creeping. No, she let her heavy footfalls shake the trophies on his shelves, and dropped herself by his knees when he didn't even stir. He was breathing quietly, a hint of frown on his thick brows. And he was warm, so warm. She straightened out his legs and leaned towards his face, shaking his shoulders and calling out his name. He was murmuring and groaning, but didn't wake up. Disappointed, Cathy crumpled to a heap on his arm. His blue shirt-sleeved polo was crisply-clean, but slight perspiration had built up on his skin and formed a scented atmosphere on him, chasing the nausea out his open door. Cathy looked up at him, startled. "Mmmm...hmm..." he was murmuring indulgently. Did he enjoy this...escape? Cathy's nights had been filled with visions: strong ones that left her in cold sweat as she forgot about it in the morning. For the rest of the day, she would be walking on eggshells. Eric's sisters had confirmed his melancholic distance over the past weeks, but whether it was also because of nightmares, she never knew. But he was sleeping like a babe, oblivious to the past the shared and the consequences they had to deal with. It wasn't fair. Cathy cupped his cheek and ran her thumb under his eyes; weeks of oversleeping had erased nearly all his dark shadows. She carefully removed his glasses and set them on the bedside table. Then she saw it. A small stack of portrait sketches, all done in messy but scary-accurate black ink. She recognized every one of them. How did Eric get his hands on these police evidence? Eric shifted position until his arm fell on top of her waist. Cathy dropped the papers in surprise. His breath was warm on her neck, despite the collared cotton shirt she wore all the time. He was embracing her --- in bed, for goodness' sake. Hot and embarrassed, she made to got up. But as if sensing her intention, Eric gave a sudden jerk. He clutched her, burying into her skin. She gasped. She could feel the strangeness of everything, as if she was wearing a new uniform for the first time. Her skin was receiving signals from everywhere: the crumpling of their clothes, the shoulder under her cheek, the coarseness of his legs. Why the hell did she choose to wear shorts today? She felt herself falling off the side of the bed and thought that the noise would wake him up. But she caught sight of the fallen sketches on the floor, and Lorelei half-turned to her with her usual pensive, yet sad expression. She was the one who wanted this. Lorelei had been so madly in love with Eric that she bet on her life just to keep Cathy and him from rivaling. A wave of nausea hit again, this time carrying with it the metallic scent of blood. Cathy turned and buried her face into his chest, where his scent and sweat were so strong thoughts of the past flew from her. Was this how he forgot? Almost in reply, he gave a slight nuzzle on the nose. Yes, it was. Cathy looked at him in awe, imagining how his big brown eyes would open to find her here, exhausted and escaping, just as he did. And when that happens, he'll be a new person, and so would she. ========== (Photo by Matheus Vinicius on Unsplash)