#the back and forth joking with the journalists

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Besides a great interview round - they also filmed the moment with the big laugh from the photo

Starts at 40:25.

[hotchfiles]

hotch "representing the bau" hotchner x activist!reader who won't stand for bullshit

not like actual conflict cause we know hotch is a very principled guy

more like

"shit i can't shitpost about overthrowing the government anymore cause my boyfriend is the government" vibes

you have no idea how deeply i feel about this i've actually posted about this because i'm very much against all cops and he's a literal fed ! but

You met in the most conventional of ways, which makes the whole thing even funnier to the outside person. A bar. You noticed him the moment he walked in, too downright gorgeous to be ignored, you stare at him completely shamelessly and get a few shy awkward smiles in return while he sips on his first drink and talks to his companion, who you later learned was Rossi.

He will find it later on that you're not really up for games, but it takes him by surprise when you approach him, card in hand with your phone number and the red stain of your red lips on the other side. He's immediately smitten, being flirted with so openly at his age does wonders for his ego and he makes sure to text you as soon as he gets back to his apartment.

The texting back and forth goes for hours, a lot of flirting, you're much more outspoken than he is, but still you find him hilarious, you will be telling your friends he's the funny one between you two (none of them will believe you, but you like having this only to yourself as well).

You talk movies, plays, music, favorite drinks and by 2AM he asks you on a date. It’s perfect from the get go. He's flattering, compliments your choice of clothes, says he likes the lipstick (the same you used on the card he is keeping safe on his wallet), takes you to a nice restaurant.

You tell him since you made the very first move, he would have to be the one to kiss you, he argues he sent you the first text so you should be the one to do it, in the end none of you know who took the first move, you're just sure you were the one to unlock your apartment door, stumbling along with him as you two passionately kissed.

It's not common for this to happen for him, he's too much of a gentleman, sleeping with someone on the first date isn't the gentlemanly thing to do, you're not attached to those norms so even if he tried to argue, your lips glued to his neck as you worked on his belt took his mind off of it.

It's not until the next morning that he really notices your place: The types of books you had, some revolutionary art pieces and it's then he realizes he has no idea what you do for a living. Neither did he tell you he was a FBI agent. You two talked long hours and career wasn't even a topic (that may be why you caught his heart so fast).

You were a journalist, a writer, quite proficient and known for your progressive ideals and less than civil protests, so when you both realize the differences and the conflict it might bring, the first instinct was to pull away. Forget the whole thing. It was only one date after all.

It's a matter of days for the realization that being apart won't happen, your thoughts are filled with him and his voice and the way he touched you and Aaron can possibly detail every curve of your body and the way you smelled as if he was still in bed with you.

There's a mutual agreement of public discretion, you can't have your readers knowing you're falling for a fed, nor does the media needs any more reasons to write about the FBI.

His team knows though, and so does Strauss, she had to be warned of the possibility of your name popping up in some lists. She reads half of your writings after that, highlighting stuff you should not be writing about (you won't listen to her on it) and the compromise you make is to keep all of your opposition material completely professional, no tweets, no tiktoks, nothing of the sort with jokes about overthrowing the government.

"Did you... Did you just cite and use one of Stalin's books as a resource here?" He asks, he's in your bed, blue boxer shorts and white t-shirt on, completely comfortable with you already, his reading glasses sit on top of his nose like an old man and he furrows his brows, looking up at you. Aaron's interested in what you write, he truly reads whatever you hand him just to learn more about you, he's not the one to try to censure any of it.

"Well yeah... His writings are the easiest to comprehend on the topic." You shrug, not understanding the tone of his question at first.

"Honey... You can't just... Do you know how many... Forget it. Your editor will love it." His poor attempts to talk you down failing each time he looked over and saw your expectant eyes as his opinion is important to you. You smile at his defeat, taking the papers from his hand and throwing somewhere else in the room, his glasses go to the bedside table and soon you're kissing any of his worries away.

[vettelsvee]

I CAN BUY YOU SOME FLOWERS | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

redbull sebastian vettel x journalist!reader

word count: 1955

warnings: seb just being a flirt and then, a shy sunshine who just wants to surprise reader :) use of y/n.

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

After an intense race dominated by Red Bull, with Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber securing a 1-2 finish, respectively, it was Y/N Y/L/N's turn to interview the winner. With her notebook in one hand and a recorder in another, she quickly adjusted her attire to look as presentable as possible before the interview with who she considered her favorite person to interview started.

"Congratulations, Sebastian!" the girl began as the blonde approached her. "As always, an impressive victory. How do you feel about it? You've achieved, if I'm not wrong, a total of six consecutive wins this season."

"Thank you very much, Y/N," Vettel replied as professionally as he could. "It was a really tough race. We had to push hard and extract energy from the car where there wasn't any to maintain our lead," he explained, focusing his gaze on the journalist. "Still, I can't help but be happy with the result. The team has done an incredible job."

Y/L/N was nervous. She knew that, sooner or later, the world champion would start with the back-and-forth banter so characteristic of their relationship, punctuated with his... kinda romantic jokes.

"Let's talk about today's strategy," the journalist abruptly changed the subject, following the agenda outlined in her notebook. "Do you think it lived up to previous ones, or should it improve in any aspect for future races?"

Sebastian laughed, crossing his arms.

"I don't think I should tell you anything about strategies just in case the other teams hear us, Y/N. But for you... I'll say that strategy is like dancing in a nightclub," the blonde explained. "Sometimes it's crowded, and you have no space. Other times, the floor is all yours, and there are moments when you have to improvise to get the girl, and that's what I did today, trusting myself and my instincts."

She nodded, inwardly amused by the ridiculous comparison made by the current championship leader.

"So, you see," he continued, "it seems the strategy turned out to be a success. I hope Horner and Marko are proud of me."

"They surely are, Sebastian," the journalist affirmed. "And now, I'd like to move on to talk about your teammate, Mark Webber. Your ups and downs are known worldwide, especially among your team's loyal followers. Is there anything you'd like to highlight about him? We've never heard you say anything positive about the Australian, and I'd like to give that scoop to the world."

"You're right. If I don't mention Mark, he'll probably give me a good scolding as soon as I finish talking to you," Vettel commented in a mocking tone. "Okay, I'll be honest with you: if it weren't for them, I wouldn't have many great races. But don't tell Mark or his ego will skyrocket!"

The young woman laughed once again. She knew that, in some way, Sebastian was right, but she was also aware of all the great achievements he had accomplished as the three-time world champion.

"Don't worry, Sebastian," the brunette assured him, "your secret is safe with me."

"Call me Seb, darling."

There it was.

The moment she, deep down, had been waiting for. Sebastian the flirt Vettel had once again made a stellar appearance, and the journalist was sure he wouldn't leave anytime soon.

She didn't know why it mattered to her. After all, he had the same stupid behavior with the rest of the female journalists.

She wasn't special.

"Let me improvise a bit, Seb," she suggested, emphasizing the pilot's nickname.

Before he could utter a word, the girl was already formulating the question that had been eating away at her every time she saw the seductive side of the man in front of her.

"Everyone knows that you're quite the charmer. Why do you show this kind of character every time you have an interview, especially with people of the opposite sex?"

Vettel chuckled, somewhat surprised by the question even though he didn't want to admit it. If there was one thing he had liked about Y/N Y/L/N from the moment he met her it was how direct she was in each of the interviews he had had the pleasure of conducting with her.

"Are you seriously accusing me of being the greatest seducer Formula 1 has ever seen?" the pilot asked with a mischievous smirk. "What can I say: it's all because of the adrenaline of the races. I also quite enjoy female company, especially yours."

The woman exhaled, knowing it was one of his many tactics to charm women into bed, as she had heard from other colleagues.

"I'm just being myself, enjoying the moment, and speaking my mind, trying not to mess up too much because, as you may have noticed, I don't always come out on top," the blonde continued, now completely opening up to the woman.

"You have a natural charm that makes you very special. Now I understand why you have so many fans," the journalist clarified. "Sometimes it feels like a One Direction concert here!"

"Yeah, I've heard of them," Seb said casually. "But I think it's also because I enjoy the conversations many of them offer me, because they're very beautiful. But not more than you, by the way."

Sebastian Vettel was totally playing with her, but try as she might, she couldn't help but start to fall for his charms.

"Oh, wow... Thank you, Seb," Y/N whispered, blushing.

"I'm just saying the truth. I mean it."

The young woman was static, unsure whether to believe what the pilot was telling her at that moment. His eyes seemed sincere, and as her grandmother used to say: eyes never lie.

"Changing the subject, princess. What are your favorite flowers?"

"Tulips," the young woman blurted out without thinking, impressed by Sebastian's compliments. "If it's possible, yellow ones."

"Noted," the blonde replied, touching his temple with his index finger.

"But why are you asking me this...?"

However, Sebastian Vettel was already walking away from the girl accompanied by Britta, his PR. The last thing Y/N saw before turning around was Seb smiling at her as he waved with his left hand, and all the media astonished by the conversation they had witnessed between them.

It had been a few weeks, almost a month, since Y/N had her last interaction with Sebastian, and to say she missed him was an understatement. The summer break had allowed her to rest and, fortunately, disconnect from everything, although not as much as she would have liked.

Most importantly, despite her incredible memory, she didn't remember a part of the conversation she had with the German.

So, as soon as she returned to work at the Belgian Grand Prix and found a large and beautiful bouquet of tulips in her hotel room, along with a box of chocolates and an anonymous note, she was surprised. No one cared about her enough to behave in such a way.

The same thing happened the night before the qualifying session at Monza. When she opened her door to go to the buffet for dinner, her eyes lit up upon discovering a large bouquet of yellow tulips on the floor, arranged in a green vase. Next to them was a handwritten note that read, "For the most charming journalist. Enjoy these tulips and rest for tomorrow's race, you deserve it for all the hard work you're doing. With love, you're number 1 fan."

Curious and excited, she took, somewhat trembling hands due to nervousness, a small wrapped box hanging from the vase. Carefully, she began to open it, revealing a silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of a Formula 1 steering wheel, something she was passionate about.

A few weeks later, the Friday before the Singapore Grand Prix, Y/N was busy finishing preparing some questions and other different dynamics from the usual ones for the meetings she had with the drivers, including Sebastian. As she finished and made her way from her hotel to the circuit to do her job, she saw something that puzzled her: a figure that looked quite familiar was standing in front of a flower stall, casually choosing a bouquet of tulips and communicating with the vendor as best he could.

She stopped dead in her tracks, surprised, though not as much as she had expected, to recognize Sebastian as the cause of all those details that had been reaching her since last August. Although she was aware that she was running late and might miss the opportunity to speak with some other drivers, she couldn't miss the chance to see how the German was preparing everything.

Sebastian, after some indecision, chose a bouquet of tulips, but this time they were white. After exchanging a few words with the shopkeeper and having paid and thanked him for his service, he left with a big smile on his face.

So it was Vettel all this time..., the girl thought to herself.

When she arrived at the paddock, she found the German driver sitting in a corner away from all the hustle and bustle writing a note. The look of concentration he showed while writing, with his tongue sticking out slightly, melted the journalist's heart.

Undoubtedly, if Seb was doing this, she didn't know what to think about it. Maybe she had judged him too quickly, and he wasn't as much of a womanizer as she initially thought he could be.

After a few minutes, eaten away by impatience, she decided to approach him. As Sebastian looked up and met her gaze, she couldn't hide her nerves.

"Oh, hi, Y/N," he greeted, blushing. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Looks like I caught, huh?" she questioned. "You seemed very focused preparing another one of your famous surprises."

Sebastian laughed nervously; he was definitely caught red-handed. He knew it would happen sooner or later, but he still didn't feel ready to face the girl he loved.

"It seems so. Surprise?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me it was you behind all of this?" the journalist scolded. "You have no idea the headaches I've had these past few months."

"Well..." the boy started, playing with his hands. "I wanted it to be a surprise, and maybe... I was also a bit afraid of how you would react to knowing it was me. I know you think I go from flower to flower, like a sailor, and I thought you might have a bit of a grudge against me for that," he confessed.

Y/N felt weird, because that was exactly what she had been thinking all this time about the driver with whom she had had to spend so much time in interviews, press conferences, and other events.

Once again, life was teaching her not to judge people by their appearances or the comments of others.

"Sebastian," Y/N began, "I loved receiving the surprises you had prepared, but you didn't need to hide behind anonymity. I would have preferred them if you had been more direct."

"Really?" Vettel replied, looking at her intently. "I didn't think you'd like me showing up at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a box of chocolates, and singing you a song like some mariachis."

"In fact, I would have liked it a lot," she contradicted him. "It shows that you care about whatever you want to have with me and, above all, that you make efforts to make me feel special."

Was Y/N intimidating a three-time Formula 1 world champion?

"Then I think it's time for the surprises to stop being anonymous," Sebastian declared, doing his best to calm his anxiety. "Give me an opportunity and I'll show you how much you mean to me right now, and how important you can be in my life in the future."

[hobicakess]

PLAYING DANGEROUS — (teaser)

summary: It's been almost three years since Jack in the box was caught, and no one could make him talk. No one knew his story, and what drove him to become the monster he was today. That is until you're assigned your first story. What makes you so lucky?

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Journalist!Reader x Criminal!JungHoseok x CEO!Kim Namjoon x Detective!MinYoongi.

warnings: smut murder, blood and gore, Jack In The Box Hobi, corruption, workplace abuse, yandere characters, possessive/obsessive behavior, dubcon, short hair namjoon (yes that's a warning), black/plus sized coded reader, violence from every single aspect, police brutality, mircoagression towards woc, lawyer kim seokjin, maknae helping cause chaos, manipulation, drugs and addiction, unhinged serial killer hobi (joker vibes tbh) , yoongi hates his job, namjoon loves his job (he gets to piss you off everyday)

authors note: howdy hotties! this fic was heavily inspired by this post, i don't think it'll be 30 chapters but something about it just spoke to me and itched my writer brain. even though the mc is black coded anyone can read ofc!! I can't wait to write for this series. if you'd like a tag pls comment below. Reblogs are appreciated and check out my other works (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)

part one

There was a manic laughter that echoed through the new station. The giggles caused shivers and goosebumps to pass through everybody in the building simply because that laughter was familiar. The sounds were admitting from the little black box that sat on your desk. In horror you and your peers that happened to be close by watch the little black clown that popped from graffiti painted the box swing animatedly back and forth. Everyone in Korea knew this clown and what it meant.

“Mr.Kim is not seeing anyone right-” you push the secretary out your way causing her to stumble on her kitten heels and she watches you stomp your way into her bosses and yours office. The door opens wide slamming against the wall causing the booksvon the shelves to tremble, some even tumbling to the floor.

There he sat Kim Namjoon. He stared at you with his eyebrow raised. Some of the buttons of his black dress shirt were unbuttoned, the glass at his side was filled with brown liquid and even more books and papers laid out messily on his desk. .

With as much force as you could you throw the giggling box at him. The impact smacking him hard on the chest but with his build you were sure that it didn't do a thing. He held it in his hands flipping it over clicking an unknown button, shutting the gut wrenching sound shut off.

“ You told me if I took this story I'd be safe,*

Namjoon sighs as if you were speaking nonsense and not about life or death. “Let's be clear here you agreed to take this story when I only simply suggested it. Besides what makes you think Jack sent this?” He was right.

Maybe your coworkers thought I'd be funny to freak you out a little more since taking on the Clown killer case, still it was a sick joke that you didn't really find funny.

“Jack is locked in a maximum security prison surrounded by guards, and guns. He's not getting out anytime soon.”

The door swung open again and there stood his assistant. “Mr.Kim turned the news on!”

Grabbing the remote he clicks on the TV that was mounted on the wall of his office. The screen lights up showing a familiar smoking building. Your heart began to speed up in rhythm as you stare at the headline

Serial killer Jack In The Box escapes from Hangsang Maximum security prison

The screen flicks again to the dark red writings on the wall that used to be his cell.

‘See you soOn honey bunches 🃏’

And that was the last thing you saw before you tumble to the ground.

©hobicakesss , please don't repost or steal my work. don't be a loser

[theemporium]

hiii, could you write a charles angry jealous smut with fluff at the end pls ❤️

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

You knew your boyfriend was a handsome man.

He was so fucking pretty that sometimes it was hard for you to believe he was human, and everyone who met him thought the same. Add in the fact that he was unreasonably kind and sweet, and you knew you were lucky to be with him. 

You loved Charles and you trusted him more than you trusted anyone else in your life. 

But that didn’t mean you trusted the people around him.

You hated the way the journalist was eyeing him. The way she was flicking her hair over her shoulder and laughing a little too hard at his jokes. You hated the way she playfully shoved his shoulder and the way she kept smiling at him. You hated the way her questions started to get a little too personal, which only made your boyfriend squirm a little before he politely answered the questions and tried to direct the questions back to his racing. 

You hated that you felt jealous at all when you knew Charles felt nothing for her. 

But you still needed—craved—that reassurance. 

“Fuck, cherie,” the garbled moans left his lips as he gripped your hips tight enough that you knew, without a doubt, bruises would form by the morning. “Just like that, baby, doing so good for me.”

You braced your hands on his chest, your painted nails looking so pretty against his skin. You threw your head back, wistful and pretty moans leaving your lips as you rocked your hips back and forth. You looked like a fucking angel and Charles loved it. 

He knew something was wrong on your way back to the hotel. You were quieter than usual and even his shitty little jokes weren’t making you laugh. At first, he was worried he had done something wrong but the second he closed the door behind you, you were on him. 

He had chuckled as you practically ripped his shirt over his head, making some remark about how needy you were, but it fell short when you pushed him back on the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist before kissing him so hard he thought he would bruise. 

“Baby—”

“Shhh,” you grumbled as your fingers made quick move by undoing the button on his trousers. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good, cherie,” he murmured but his words barely made you blink as you quickly undressed, barely giving yourself a chance to slip your dress off before you sunk down on his cock. 

Because this was what you needed. You needed to see Charles moaning and writhing beneath you. You needed to see him gripping your hips and begging you to move faster, guiding you up and down his cock as he moaned your name and fucked his hips up into you. You needed to see him become a complete mess just for you.

“Want you to come inside me,” you whined as you leaned down to kiss him. It was messy and sloppy and muffled the whimpers he let out. “Please, Charlie.” 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned as your walls clenched around him, as you scratched at his biceps as your orgasm washed over you, him following soon after as he spilled inside you. 

You couldn’t bring it within yourself to move just yet, laying down on his chest with his cock still deep inside you as he traced his hands up and down your back. He pressed soft kisses along your forehead before he let out a small chuckle.

“What?” you murmured sleepily, fighting back your yawn. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he murmured back to you.

You scoffed. “I wasn’t—”

“I saw you glaring at that lady,” he said in a knowing voice and you lifted your head to find him grinning at you. “Don’t be shy, it’s cute seeing you get so…” 

“Possessive?” you supplied for him.

His grin widened. “Exactly.” 

“You’re mine,” you said with a huff and Charles could only laugh as he guided your lips back to his. 

“Forever and always, cherie,” he murmured, a delighted smile on his face as he kissed you.

.

[middlingmay]

I've seen a few Hockey AUs around here.

And for someone who's never seen a game of hockey in their puff, I do love a good Hockey AU.

So whilst I'm 100% never going to write one, how about this? :

Imagine John is one of the biggest Hockey stars in the US. Mahoosive. And he's known for being the sweetest guy with no ego about it, too.

He constantly talks up his team mates and is the biggest team player. He's openly critical of the coaching team when he thinks it's called for. He tries the direct approach first, but when they won't listen, the next time someone shoves a camera in his face, something's going to go down. This is usually when there's been an avoidable injury.

He pops up at local kids club games whenever he has downtime, wherever he is, and spends loads of time with them and is really encouraging.

And Gale, being woefully ignorant about the land of sport has absolutely no idea who he is.

Maybe he takes Marge's kid to practice sometimes, and he sees John there and just thinks he's a friend of the coach, given how delighted the coach is to see him (and maybe how the coach hangs off him, too).

Gale lets himself look. It's been a while and John is cute. All bright, easy smiles and patience with the kids, even as they try scaling his legs and back like a jungle gym (but only when their skates are off).

And John notices Gale and keeps catching him looking and they both keep looking away and looking back and blushing like children. Idiots, I stg.

And Marge's kid - let's call her Andy - chatters a mile about about how great John is and Gale figures it's not an uncommon occurrence for the coach's friend to come around if Andy knows him that well, but he makes a note to ask Marge about it. And maybe offer to take Andy to more practices. Give Marge and Rosie some time to themselves after work (because fuck it, Marge is married to Rosie in this).

On their way back from practice, Gale sees a hoard of news vans going the opposite way and just thinks, "Huh. Weird."

So he asks Marge if she knows about John - she does, of course. Andy does not shut up about him - and she clocks right away that Gale has no clue who he's been flirting kindergarten-style with and elbows Rosie in the ribs before he can blab. Oh ho, she's going to enjoy this.

John isn't at the next practice, or the one after, and Gale is disappointed, but he can't focus on that for long because his car won't start to take Andy home.

Who arrives on the scene? John Egan.

He offers them a ride and Andy does not give Gale a chance to say no.

Gale is hopelessly, awfully flustered in the front seat. John talks almost as much as Andy and the two chatter and bicker back and forth, because yes John does argue like a 12 year old.

But, he also gesticulates, and his hands get everywhere and if they brush up against Gale one more time, surely his heart can only jolt like that so many times before it's not good for him??

And cute or not, Gale finds it difficult to talk to strangers. Maybe John notices, and asks Gale yes or no questions, offers him little jokes and pretty much doesn't demand any input from Gale which is...New.

He finds himself laughing and offering little bits of conversation unprompted which have John beaming.

John walks them to Marge's door (he thinks it's also Gale's because Andy has blonde hair, too). And when Marge opens to door and Andy says, "Mom, look who it is!" John's face falls - until Rosie appears and Andy calls him Dad.

Marge, seeing an opportunity for mischief, invites John in for dinner as a thank you whilst Rosie calls Ken to get Gale's car. She drops hints about John's work which sail right over Gale's head:

"All that travelling must be hard. And surrounded by all those screaming people?"

"Oh you're in just about every paper and news report on tv."

So Gale, obviously, comes to the conclusion that John is a journalist.

It takes a very, very, very long time for him to find out the truth. Far longer than it should. They've been dating for a while, but with John's travelling and Gale's studies and his work, it just doesn't come up much. When they're together, work isn't at the forefront of their minds. So Gale doesn't quite cotton on to the fact that the sudden uptick in photographers he sees about town are following him and John. And he doesn't really follow the news, so yeah.

I may post more thoughts about this, but I just love Sports AUs in general. I will read every fic any of you write, God help me

[peaky-shelby]

NEW ROMANTICS | MBAPPÉ [9]

» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.« previous chapter

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Taylor’s instinct was to dive in the water without saying anything at all. Kylian watched her as she tied herself around him so she could stay underwater. He heard the guard getting closer and looked up.

“Mr. Mbappe?” All Kylian could do was gulp and nod. “Party is inside sir. Pool Is closed”

He was struggling to come up with actual words, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, distracted by the skin to skin contact and her closeness to dangerous areas but this was not the time.

“my daughter’s a fan.”

“Really?”

“You don’t happen to have a shirt do you?”

“Not right now I don’t.”

Taylor pinched his thigh, not at all in a sexual way but only to remind him that she was about to run out of breath if she didn’t do anything. She closed her eyes trying to focus on her heartbeat, which echoed in the void of the water and would get quicker every minute that she didn’t let out the air. She could see her time running out right in front of her eyes. None of this was a good idea, definitely not for her weak heart which had already been through a lot.

“but give me five minutes I’ll get one for you.” Taylor could feel his entire body vibrating as he spoke. She couldn’t hear a response by the guard. Feared that if this took any longer she would loose all consciousness but suddenly she felt his hands underneath her elbows, pulling her up. She gasped for air, the second she reached the surface and jumped off the pool, getting up on marble and walking back and forth. Her hand always placed in her chest, over her heart while she was hyperventilating in attempt to stay calm. She put on her heels, quicker than any time before and picked up her phone as well. Kylian got off the pool reaching for his pants, jumping on one leg while walking so he could put them on at the same time. He wore his white t-shirt and snatched his jacket from the ground, attempted to put it over her but she slapped it away.

“are you ok?” he asked, kinda worried, kinda confused. She didn’t answer him, which only made him more anxious than before, trying to get near her and failing each time. He had followed her on the railings of the marine, for a second be thought she’d jump over them and into the sea. “taylor?” he tried again.

“this ends here!” it came out as an order. She was shaking in the cold while she said it and he thought she should be the one going inside. He attempted to put his jacket over her again, to warm her wet figure. She turned around abruptly, making him step back. “enough Kylian !” she yelled. “no more staring, no more insinuations, or jokes or following me. There are more than 20 reporters in that venue and im--” she laughed at herself, rubbing her face “what am I doing?”. If stars could speak they’d be doomed, both of them. It was the first time he noticed the sign of fear in her eyes, a woman fearless in most things was standing scared in front of him. Did he feel bad for her? Being the reason of the fear? “please.” She whispered “enough.”

He nodded, pressing his tongue on his teeth. “ok.” He raised his hands in defeat, still holding his jacket in one and made a step back. “I’m done. I promise.” He lowered his hand again, holding out the jacket for her “but take the jacket” Her eyes fell on it, looking at it like it was a gun that she’d put on her head later on. Like accepting would be accepting something worse, something like a curse. She snatched it away from him and put it on, leaving as far away from him as possible.

He started buttoning his shirt, looking up at the sky while doing so. Funny thing about stars, they see everything and don’t tell a soul.

“Ky!”

He turned around in the sound of his name, Hakimi standing behind him. There was this kind of disapproval in his eyes like he had seen everything but was too kind to say anything. He took off his jacket and gave it to Kylian.

“Go back inside.” He said “before people start adding two and two together.”

Taylor got back in her room. Changing away from her wet clothes as quick as she could. She had used Kylian’s jacket to hide how wet her dress was when going up to her room. She threw it on the couch across the bed and made herself a warm bath, her body sinking in the high temperature. Her heart finally finding a safe place to calm. No sort of shampoo could erase his touch from her inner thigh, another invisible tattoo by him. But she kept telling herself that’s all they were, tattoos. A simple addiction, she’d eventually get over.

Later, she laid on her bed, wrapped herself in her cozy robe and tucked under the blankets. She couldn’t sleep and she knew she wouldn’t. Not unless she found a way to get her mind off his dark eyes. Hey eyes were stuck on the ceiling, imagining thousands of stars starring down at her. Her phone buzzed on the table, the noise disturbing her but also giving her a way out from her thoughts. She sat better, reading the name on the screen. A sense of calmness she hadn’t felt in a while washed over her.

“Dad?”

“Hey lion. I saw your call from earlier is everything alright?”

She hesitated “yes. Just missing you.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Ah I was talking with Beth about that. I was thinking I’d fly to you next week. Stay for a couple of days.”

She smiled at the thought “that’d be good. You sure you can travel though? How were your exams?”

“they were fine, don’t you worry about it.”

“you might as well tell me, I’ll call Beth otherwise.”

“sweetheart. I’m ok. I promise you. What about you? You sound troubled.”

“The match against AL Nssr is gonna be the first that they know I’m assistant coach. Guess I’m scared about that”

“Mbappe still giving you a hard time?”

Her eyes searched for Kylian’s jacket, she looked at it like it was actually him. “Sometimes”

“don’t think about it too much. Keep being yourself, doing what you know best.”

“thanks pa.” A pause between the two then she asked “do you think I have a tendency of self destruction?”

“why would you ask that?”

“I fear I might be doing it again.”

WELCOMING EVENT VENUE – NIGHT

Kylian stayed on the even a while longer. He didn’t really talk to anyone or attempted to even look like he was enjoying himself. Taylor’s disappearance was talked about a lot. The boys would make theories about it and all the while he could feel Hakimi’s eyes staring at him. Still, he had made a promise to her to not talk about it with his friend, ever. He was going to keep it.

He Found himself close to a group of a couple reporters, it wasn’t intended. He just kept zoning out and unconsciously joining conversations, while being pushed around by members on the PR team or even Galtier himself. Hearing her name is what got him out of the zone.

“Taylor Wilock. She was on Chelsea.”

He made a step closer to the group, listening.

“she left very early on. Don’t you think?” asked one of the women. The man standing next to her laughed.

“Have we counted the footballers to make sure they’re all here?”

Kylian gripped tight on his glass. He didn’t like what the unknown man was suggesting.

“haven’t seen Neymar in a while.” Said the woman, laughing “god if I were her, I’d sleep with half of them as well.”

“Any other way for a woman in her 20’s to get that kind of a job?”

Kylian was fuming. He stepped in front of the two journalists, his posture strict and unwelcoming.

“She was 5 when she played her first game. She so good that her coach had to keep her benched in some games because she made all the other kids cry. When she turned 7, Birmingham city academy had already started making offers for her to stay and join the under 16s team. She would have, except she was picked out by Chelsea, as you also pointed out. Full scholarship. She was 10 at the time by the way. Starting eleven in every game and approached by national team for the world cup. She would have joined them at 16 years old, the contract was even signed. She could have had a bigger career than you could ever dream of if it wasn’t for her illness. But even then, she built a website from zero, with detailing and analyzing articles about player performances in ways that coaches in their 40s envied. That’s how she got the fucking job.”

Kylian was surprised of how much he had listened and remembered the things that Jude had told him about Taylor. His mind had kept all of the information without even realizing it. Perhaps, overhearing the things they said about her made him understand how much there was on the line for her, meanwhile he had been treating this as a game. A few weeks ago, and maybe he would have said the same things about her but now he knew she wasn’t underqualified, no matter how much he wanted to pretend like she was. Maybe this was a way of redeeming himself for the things he said and done after a much-needed wake up call.

“Do your fucking research.”

He left them after that. Didn’t stay to see their surprised or baffled expressions. He bumped on a few people while exiting the venue and going up to his room. He locked the door, changed into more comfortable clothes and started searching in his suitcase. He took out his tablet, sitting on his bed and opening his gallery. Scrolled down until he found the pictures he had taken of Taylor’s report. He stayed up reading that night. The taste of her skin lingering on his lips.

KHALIFA INTERNATIONAL STADIUM – OPEN TRAINING SESSION

Taylor was surprised when she realized Kylian was keeping his promise. During breakfast they sat on different tables, keeping their eyes on the ones around them instead of each other. The only time he got close enough to her was when he asked to speak with Neymar. Only for a couple of seconds before the two of them left to go talk alone.

In the bus Taylor sat on the front next to Galtier, repeatedly checking on her phone to keep herself occupied. She hoped he couldn’t see through her performances. Truth was that since the night before she had this constant ache in her chest and a sort of dizziness. She thought both things would die out after taking her pills but the exhaustion seemed to be getting bigger. She ignored it.

The team dressed in their new yellow and black kit, photographed in the hall and then out on te stadium. She watched in awe as the people that had come to see the training screamed and yelled when the team walked out on the pitch. Turns you never get used to that feeling, the thrill of listening your friend’s names yelled in celebration. It didn’t take long before she was approached by the first reporters, asking about her experience in the team so far. She gave short answers and excused herself, saying he needed to work. She spent most of the time studying attitudes and performances. She noticed Kylian training alongside Neymar, the two of them passing the ball to each other. Galtier had assigned her to mostly watch for this training and get back to him with a starting 11 and a final strategy for the next day’s game while the other coaches took the lead in the training. She’d walk in between everyone, writing on her notebook and sometimes blow her whistle when she thought the boys were getting out of control.

Sometimes she’d get this feeling on her fingertips like she needed to type out the thoughts on her mind. A article like the ones she used to write. She’d ignore it the same way she’d ignore the growing ache on her chest. She was in the middle of the field when Neymar kicked a ball at her and she realized that she had zoned out.

“You good?” he asked, getting near her. “You look pale.”

“Yeah.” She said quickly, she showed him her notebook and started pointing on her notes about him. While she spoke, she kept missing a couple of words or dragging out sentences. Ney noticed it, his head cocked to the left while watching her. He was listening at her pointers but also examining on her features.

“You sure you’re good?” he asked.

She closed her eyes nodding “I just need water.” She exited the field, looking at the benches for her water bottle. she went inside the building when took it so no one from the team would see her. She leaned against the wall and started drinking slowly, fearing that her stomach might not take kindly on the liquid.

“Ms. Wilock?” She opened her eyes to see one of the medics standing in front of her, a kind smile on her face. “I’m jo. Are you feeling alright?”

“Do I look that bad?” she tried to joke.

“Mr. Mbappe told me you might need help.”

Her expression softened, she cleared her throat as to not show her guilt and turned her gaze at the floor so she wouldn’t be able to see her eyes. “I’m fine, really. This is normal.”

“Could I check your blood pressure?” she asked, holding a monitor in her hands. Taylor nodded and held her arm out. The medic wrapped it around her arm. Taylor leaned her head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling “are you diagnosed with a condition?”

“Inherited Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy.” She answered, biting the inside of her lip “like I said. This is normal for me.”

The medic was focused on the monitor, watching the numbers getting higher. She shook her head “I need you to take a few deep breaths for me—”

“I need to get back on the field.”

“In a moment. Please, a couple deep breaths.” She obeyed; this was routine for her. Deep breaths and counting to 7. She had been doing it for most of her life. “You said inherited?”

“my father’s side.” She explained.

Jo unwrapped the monitor from her arm “you should take a break. Eat something.”

“I’ll take a break when the session is over.”

“Something wrong coach?” Kimpembe came in, jogging towards her. Taylor turned and looked at him, a little annoyed that this was turning into a scene.

“I’m fine—” “she needs to eat.” They said it at the same time, Kimpembe looking between them, confused. He narrowed his eyes.

“Well I was gonna go get a snack. You’re welcome to join.”

“Not necessary—”

“I think I’ll listen to the doctor!” he slipped his head around her arm and winked at the medic before dragging her with him to the cafeteria. She groaned, trying to move away but he was stronger. He had his signature smile plastered on his face while they walked and he was ignoring her threats and complaints. He ordered her a toast, since it was the only thing, she was willing to eat. They sat on the corner, the two of them. She’d cut small bites from her bread and chew on them slowly. Kimpembe laughed at her.

“You eat like a chipmunk.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry.”

He took a full bite from his banana, keeping her eyes on her and when he swallowed, he said “should have stayed longer last night.” She gazed at the toast, all of a sudden swallowing the whole thing in one go and chocking on it seemed tempting. “People were looking for you.”

She coughed on her own breath, looking up at him “who was?”

He shrugged “just people.” He laughed at himself “journalists are begging for an interview with you.”

“only so they can be sexists and annoying.” She bit on her toast.

“Kylian took care of that last night.” She stopped chewing. She lowered the toast, her big eyes focusing on the man across from her. “Someone made a comment about you and he set them right. Gave them your whole biography to shut them up.”

She blinked a few times, second time today that Kylian had tried to help without making any actual contact with her. “Why would he do that?”

“Trying to get on your good side? I don’t know.”

She thought about it. Imagined Kylian supporting her in a dispute, for some reason that sent a shiver in her heart, a shiver she couldn’t quite explain. She took another bite from her toast, zoning out while chewing on the food.

Taylor got back on the field with Kimpembe next to her. Kylian was occupied with a group of kids that had circled around him, asking questions and taking photographs with their idol. He had this smile on his face for the whole time. She remembered the first time he saw him with that little girl on campus. It was like he was a different person. He raised his head and looked at her, all of a sudden, he was pointing at her while talking to one of the little girls. Taylor looked behind her to make sure he wasn’t pointing at somebody else. When she looked back at them again, they were closer, walking towards her for some reason. She stood awkwardly while waiting for them.

“Hi—” she exclaimed when they got close enough. Kylian smiled and knelt next to the girl.

“She wanted to meet you.”

“Me?”

The girl nodded. Seconds later and she had tied her arms around Taylor’s feet. Hugging her. Taylor gave Kylian and a questioning look. She knelt so she’d be on the same height as the girl “what’s your name?”

“Sia.”

Taylor smiled “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Kylian says you’re the strictest coach they have.”

Taylor laughed “that’s true, I am.”

“I think you’re cool.”

“I am that too.”

Kylian took a picture of them together and the girl ran back to her parents. Before Kylian could follow her, taylor grabbed his arm. He stopped on his tracks turning around to face her. She let go of his arm quickly “I wanted to talk to you” she said and he nodded.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you as well.” Taylor expected him to go ahead and tell her about the events that followed after she left the venue or about what happened in the pool but what followed, left her with her mouth open “I checked your report again last night. There are some pointers, if you have the time, I need you to go through them together.” She thought she was hallucinating, that maybe her heart had really given up on her and now she was watching some weird dream. “I have some ideas for tomorrow I want you to speak to Galtier about if that’s alright.” She pressured her lips together, narrowing her eyes. She rubbed her head—

“Wai—wait, what?” she snorted “since when do you have a copy of the report?”

“I took pictures of it when I took it”

“Stole it” she corrected him. “And of course, you did.”

“Does it really matter?” he asked, letting both hands fall on his sides like he was tired “Do you have time to help or not?”

Her mouth hangs open while she was processing his request. She had to shake her head to get back on reality. “Yeah—” she murmured “of course—I—that’s my job Kylian.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s not what I wanted us to talk about though.”

“Why? Is there anything else?”

His question hurt but he wasn’t trying to be offensive or dismissive. If anything, he was keeping a promise that she had made him to, so she had no reason to be mad at him. Why did it still stink though?

She shook her head, puling up the corner of her lips “I guess not.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile and he left.

RESTAURANT / FAIRMONT HOTEL – AFTERNOON

“Why am I here then?” asked Hakimi, looking at Kylian, who was scrolling on his iPad to find the picture he was looking at last night. They were sitting on a circled table next to each other,

“Back up.” Mumbled Kylian.

“In case she tries to kill you or kiss you?” he picked one of the welcoming nuts the waiter had left on the table, smirking at his friend.

Kylian gave him the side eye and let down the tablet, ones he opened the pictures he needed “don’t make any jokes when she’s around. I don’t want her to think it was planned,”

“Since when do you care?”

“I really want to win tomorrow. If working with her is what it takes then so be it.” He glanced at the entrance of the restaurant and then back at his friend “I don’t want this to look like an ambush with you here.”

“she’s here—”

Kylian looked at the entrance. Taylor came in, holding her files and smiling to the waiters. She stopped for a second when she saw Hakimi sitting next to Kylian but then went and sat next to him, using him as a wall of separation from Kylian.

“Achraf,” she mumbled, while drawing the chair closer to the table. Hakimi smiled at her and gave her a quick wave “couldn’t take all the heat by yourself, Kylian?” she asked, opening her files on the table. Kylian leaned closer on the table so he’d see better at her writings.

Hakimi reached for his water, moving carefully in between them and staring at table, avoiding their gazes “this is gonna be fun” he mumbled and drank from his glass.

They ordered. They talked. They fought.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” complained Kylian

“that’s because you’re dumb!” she mumbled.

Meanwhile Hakimi was trying to enjoy his dinner in between their yelling. He was cutting bites of his dessert with his spoon, his eyes describing all the desperation he was feeling while being stuck between them. Papers were being pushed back and forth, he watched them with an empty expression until he reached his limit. He stood up abruptly, both of them watching him. “I need to go to the restroom.” He explained, any excuse to get away from this war zone. He pushed his chair back and walked away, leaving the two of them alone.

Taylor looked away from Kylian when Hakimi left and snatched a piece of paper that didn’t really say anything at all. She just wanted to pretend like she was reading something. Kylian started tapping on the table while looking at the screen on his tablet. “What about defense?”

“What about it?”

“you’re saying it’s weak.”

“Because it is…” she murmured. Kylian’s head shot up at her, he bit on his tongue. He slid on Hakimi’s chair, moving the tablet with him. Taylor glanced at him, a little worried for his intentions but all he seemed interested in was to make sense of her writings. She couldn’t understand where all this came from but she kinda liked it.

“Where are you gonna place me tomorrow?”

“I don’t have the final say, you know that.”

“What are you going to suggest?”

“What do you think? Forward. Alongside Neymar and Messi.”

“What do you know about Ronaldo’s team.”

She looked at him. She took out a pen from her folder and started writing on one of the papers while talking “You’re basically going against Vincent Aboubakar. He’s forward and he’s good. Neymar will have his eye on him—”

“Why?”

“He was on Cameroon team when brazil lost this year. Make sure Ney doesn’t get carried away. Konan plays left back and his style is mostly dribbling and shooting from a distance. He is threat number two but he’s weak at finishing.” She paused, writing all the information she could remember about him on the paper “And then of course there is your favorite.” She wrote Ronaldo’s name on the paper “do I need to write his stats?”

Kylian smiled “no. I think I got it.”

“Listen. I don’t think it’s a hard win, which is why I’m gonna be extra disappointed If we lose. They’re not even a team yet. I doubt they’ve found a way to communicate with Ronaldo so quickly.”

“You think he is a liability?”

“I think he is a big change. And a sort of change like that takes time to adjust.”

Kylian moved slightly, his knee under the table unintentionally bumping on hers. Both of them freezing at the contact for a moment. She looked away without moving her leg away from him. “It wasn’t necessary to send the medic after me today.” She said.

“You gave me a scare last night.”

“I was fine” she whispered.

He nodded. He knew she was lying. He had spoken with the medic himself, but he didn’t pressure her. He lowered his head, his knee still laying against hers.

“do me a favor.” She hummed, getting a little closer “keep up the good kid act or whatever it was that got you so focused today for tomorrow.” He scoffed, smiling. “I saw you trying with Ney. It was pretty darn great.”

The waiter interrupted them, leaving down the bill for the dinner. Taylor went to reach for it, Kylian grasped her hand before she could even touch it. He dropped her hand seconds later, opening the envelope with the bill and putting in his card in a slick movement. The waiter left with it.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Just keeping up the good kid act.” He told her. She smiled and started collecting all her papers back on her files. Hakimi returned a while later, only then did they move their knees away from each other. Sitting straight on their chairs. So, touch deprived, both of them and it was coming out in the most sinful way possible.

“The boys are in the bar. You guys gonna join?”

“What the hell are they doing in the bar? They have a game tomorrow!”

The waiter returned with Kylian’s card and Taylor got up. She was pissed. Hakimi bit on his tongue, rubbing his forehead.

“I’m sure they are not drinking, right Haki?” Asked Kylian, standing up next to taylor. Hakimi filled his cheekbones with air, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m gonna murder them—”

“Wai-wait!” Kylian stepped in front of her before she could leave. “They are adults. You’re not their mother, if they wanna fuck up, it’s on them, right?”

“I’m sure they are responsible enough, not to wake up with hangovers.” Added Hakimi.

“Fine. I’ll go back to my room. Give them a warning though that if I see anyone with sunglasses tomorrow, I’ll shove them so far up their asses they are going to taste them.” She walked past Hakimi. Kylian snorted at her comment, for ones able to appreciate her evil remarks because they weren’t aimed at him. Hakimi glowered at him and his laughter came to a quick halt.

“You know I think I’ll go to my room as well.”

Hakimi was still glowering.

“See you tomorrow bro.” he patted Hakimi on the shoulder and followed behind taylor. He reached her as soon as the elevator doors opened. Both of them walking inside and laying on opposite sides.

“You’re not gonna drink?” she asked, scratching on her nails.

“Good kid act” he reminded her and she laughed, closing her eyes.

Silence. Their kind.

“You sure everything was ok with the medic?”

“don’t ask me again Kylian.” She ordered.

The elevator doors opened again and they walked down the long hallway. Kylian stopped in front of his door while taylor continued. She stopped, turned back around to face him. He could feel her eyes on him, so he turned at her direction.

“I know you are scared playing against Ronaldo. I know what he means to you.” Her voice trailed off while she walked back to him “but you’ll do great as long as you remember the things we talked about today.” She smiled “the fact that you came to your sworn enemy JW for help, says a lot.”

He laughed. She reached for his hand, squishing it two times. He wanted to turn his hand and take hold of hers, pull her to him and kiss her, fulfill his addiction. But she slipped it away before he could hold it and she walked to her room, opening and closing the door while he stood outside his own. His body aching to be next to her, to make her angry so she’d yell at him. He was used to it.

She shut the door, a part of her staying on the other side. She realized his jacket was still laid on her couch. Tempted to return it to him, she traced the expensive fabric with her fingers. She left it there and fell asleep looking at it, a reminder of why she should keep away from him.

KHALIFA INTERNATIONAL STADIUM / LOCKER ROOMS – GAME DAY

Chaos was one word to describe it. Yelling, heavy steps, thousands of people walking around the stadium, outside, in the halls, and in the seats. Taylor was just a small figure among them and if it wasn’t for her id card, security would probably have kicked her out already. She got down the stairs to the locker room, meeting Galtier in the middle, giving his pregame speech to this team. She closed the door slowly so she wouldn’t interrupt him but he turned to her anyway.

“Ms. Wilock. Wanna do the honors?”

She was caught unprepared. Looking around for some sort of hint of what he meant “the what?”

Galtier motioned towards the boys, who seemed to be waiting for something. She slowly began to understand, a soft ‘oh’ escaping her lips. She moved closer, studying their faces. Some of them still had little belief in her. One of them of course was Verratti. She went to him first. Knelt in front of him.

“I know you hate me so if you could use that hate into scoring tonight that would be helpful.” Verratti scoffed “for the record, I think you are one of our best advantages for this game. I always have. So, kick that ball like it’s my face if that’s what it takes. Ok?”

He nodded, half smiling at her. She stood up and looked at Messi.

“Let’s not kid ourselves half the stadium is here to see you against Ronaldo. Please don’t let me getting benched when I was 13 for punching a girl that said Ronaldo was better stand for nothing.” They all laughed, even Galtier cracked a smile. It went on like this for all the players but she very noticeably ignored Neymar and Mbappe, like she was saving them for last.

Galtier gave any last motivation he had, clapping for his team. When they were all out, Taylor called for Neymar and Kylian. The two of them turned at the same time to answer to the woman, she held on their shoulders. Looking in their eyes.

“Whatever you did at training, keep doing it here. Please.” She looked at Kylian “or I’m gonna bury you both. Get it?”

Neymar smiled and leaned in, pecking her cheek “don’t worry Princessa.” He left. Ones again, Kylian and taylor stayed looking at each other. She pulled on his sleeve before he could turn and leave.

“The only number 7 I wanna see lifting that trophy is my number 7— Our seven.”

“You will” he reassured her. Half smiling at the way she called him. Repeatedly reminding himself of the promise he made to her, to stay good and appropriate.

“Prove me right.” She requested “prove me right for all he the time I’ve spend analyzing every single detail of your playing and critiquing it. Prove me it was worth it.”

He had never though of it like that. That the time she had spent on him meant something, that it wasn’t just an excuse to be mean to him but an excuse to write about him.

“go” she whispered, coming out like a warning for both. He listened to her and left. The two of them walking on the tunnel. She zipped up her jacket, walking passed him in the tunnel. She stood next to Galtier for the beginning of the game. Rubbing her hands together. To shield them from the cold but also because she needed to keep moving otherwise, she’d explode from her nerves. The teams got on the field, on their respectful side. She felt her knees give out when she heard the whistle for the start of the game. She sat down on the bench basically cuddling herself but it 3 minutes later and she was jumping up yelling. Messi had scored the first goal.

She threw her fist in the air, her entire body shaking in excitement. She threw herself at Ektike who was still on the bench. The two of them celebrating together.

20 minutes later and Kylian scores but the flag for offside goes up and her heart sinks. She kicked on the foot of the bench annoyed. Galtier sat down, crossing his arms. “they’re ok” he whispers to her “they’ll make it through don’t worry.”

Christiano’s penalty was the first hit. Taylor already planned on giving Keylor a hard time for the foul. She huffed and sat on the ground, crossing her legs. Kylian spotted her from where he was. He gave her a thumbs-up and she nodded. The next hit came when Bernat saw the red card raised before him. Taylor stood up from where she was, yelling at the referee. Raising her hands. But minutes later Kylian kicked the ball to Marquinhos and he very easily scored what would be the second goal. The whole game continued in the same rollercoaster style. A win and a loss. A loss and a win. A lost penalty by Neymar before a goal by Sergio Ramos with the help of Kylian. When Sergio kicked the ball in the net taylor ran to him, jumping on his arms. He picked her up, Kylian joining in on their celebration. When Sergio lets her down, she looks at Kylian. She smiled at him, grasping his hand to congratulate him “Keep it up!” she encouraged him and he winked at her, running back on the field.

Perhaps the most scared she felt was when Kylian had to do a penalty, her heart pounding while she waited for him to score. Knowing what it’d do to him if he lost. She dropped herself on Galtier when he scored. Galtier didn’t push her away but he didn’t hold on to her either, reminding her that she had to keep a low profile as a couch. Funny because all she actually wanted to do was write for this game, every single detail. The way each team kept making a comeback, keeping the game entertaining until the last minute. Her fingertips were hurting by the lack of keyboards to press on. She closed her eyes, waiting for the final whistle and when she heard the sound, she opened them and looked at the score. They had won. She ran in Neymar’s arms who picked her up, spinning her around. Everyone else seemed to be celebrating as well. She hugged all of them, but the hug that lasted longer was the one with Kylian. He tied his hands around her waist to pull her of the ground just a little. Her lips brushed against his ear as she whispered “Proof of you.” Leaving him with a gentle peck on his cheek. And he wasn’t so surprised to hear her say it as he was by the fact that it actually meant something to him.

PLAY MUSIC

Taylor was out in the hallway, giving her first postgame interview. A woman holding the microphone for her.

“Do you feel like you had anything to do with today’s win?”

“I’d hope so. Although, I haven’t been part of the team for as long as I’d need to and we still have a long way to go. Hopefully my presence will bring more good moments like this.”

“Is it hard handling these men?”

She looked behind the reporter. Kylian standing behind her, his chest bare, watching closely. She smiled “sometimes harder than others.”

The celebrations continued on the locker rooms, with champagne, mostly sprayed on each other and silly dances around the locker room while they waited for the bus. Taylor was being pushed back and forth, unable to stay still for longer than 5 seconds before another of these big men came to pick her up and throw her back on their little celebrations. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. One gesture that stood out for her was Verratti’s, who came showed up in front of her, holding his hand out for her, a sign of truce perhaps. She took it with no question. Smiling.

Moments later and she had an entire bottle of champagne sprayed on her by Neymar. She tried to get away but it seemed everyone was part of the game. At least she got to taste a bit of it. She looked at her clothes with playful sorrow in her eyes but she was laughing at the same time. She chased Neymar, until she bumped on Kylian. His hands grasping on her bicep to keep her upright. She looked in his eyes, the darkness that she’d usually find in them had dimmed. So much so that she had a hard time recognizing him. He pulled on her arm and started dancing on the rhythm of the music, like everyone else had done. The two of them laughing while everyone around them was oblivious of their true thoughts and all their sins. He held on her one hand in a tango kind of pose and his other hand crawled on the small of her back. Moving her right and left and spinning her round, her laughter getting louder. Oh, what a happy picture.

The laughter’s died out when everyone started dressing up to leave, one by one exiting the locker room. She stood by the door, basically counting heads to make sure no one was going to stay behind. She had no idea if he did it, on purpose but he was last to go. Slipped in one of the private showers on the back while everyone else was leaving. She checked there was no one on the hall a couple of times before going to find him.

The door to the private shower was barely open. How ironic, she was the one peaking through doors now. She leaned on door frame, keeping her eyes on the ground.

“Planning on staying here?” she asked, scratching on the floor with her foot. She heard him halting on his movements. Mentally rewarding herself for catching him off guard.

“Are we alone?” he asked from his side of the door.

Taylor checked behind her, scratching the back of her neck. “Yeah.”

The door slowly opened, taylor peaked her head through the wall. He was just putting on his shirt when she walked in.

“You did good” she smiled, leaning on wall of the shower.

“Did you mean what you say?”

“I always mean what I say.” She said in a suggestive tone.

He fixed his hoodie, eyeing her up and down. Biting on the inner side of his cheekbone.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before.”

“Haven’t been very happy since you came along.”

“touché” she pressed her lips together, accepting the sarcasm. She looked at his bag, motioning at it with her head “do you have another one of these shirts?” she looked at her own, pulling it down “this shit’s been sticking on my skin. I hate it.”

“You know—” he laughed, searched on his bag for a shirt “If you wanted my jersey, you could’ve just asked.”

Taylor snorted dismissively at him, rolling her eyes. He held out one of his jerseys for her. She took it quickly “I’ll use this as a cleaning pad when I get home.”

“Want me to sign it?” he asked, making a step forward.

“No, I’m good. Think I’ll start an eBay account with just your clothes. I still have your jacket on my room.”

He hummed. Stepped back again and hanged his bag over his shoulder. He walked passed her, the kylian she knew would have trapped her in between the wall already—

“Kylian!” He turned to look at her. Holding on his bag “how long do I have left of this good kid act?”

He smiled an evil smile. “Depends how good that shirt will look on you.” With that he left her alone to change. Taylor looked at the shirt, holding it fro each side so she could see it whole, her finger brushed over his name and then his number. She grinned.

FAIRMONT HOTEL – NIGHT

When they reached the hotel, the team was still celebating, singing and dancing in their favorite tunes. Some of them even jumped on the pool with their clothes on. Taylor made sure to stay on the back, she wasn’t in the mood for another dive.

Kylian must have thought the same because while the rest were jumping in, sending the water in all sorts of directions, he looked at her from the other side. Their eyes meeting in the darkness. He noticed she had been wearing her coat, through the whole way back. Being the only one to know that she was wearing his shirt underneath did something to him. It was like a little secret between the two, that she had his name written on her back.

She was first to break eye contact, leaving to go inside the building while the boys were being boys. He watched her leaving, tempted to follow her. Something was holding him back and he couldn’t identify if it was the promise he made or pure fear.

He went to his room, leaving his prep bag on the floor and pacing around. Debating on what his next move should be. He rubbed his face, reminding himself of all the reasons they were a bad idea. Addictions were never healthy. The stakes were taller than LeBron James. Especially for her and did he really want to be the reason for her putting such a career at risk? Then again, would he be the one responsible if it was her that made the choice.

A knock.

Gentle. Low. But confident.

He looked at his door. Did he really have to guess who was on the other side.

His hand hovered over the door knob, his fingers barely touching it. He laid his head on the door.

Another knock.

He opened it. Her small figure standing on the other side. She was holding his jacket on her one hand, her shirt still covered by her own coat.

“Didn’t want you accusing me of stealing.” She said, her voice low. His fingers stroked hers as he took it in his hold. Both of them lingering on the contact, he made a step back and she mirrored his movements. Stepping in the room, both of them still holding on the piece of clothing like it was their lifeline. One last thread before oblivion. Kylian raised his hand over her, pushing the door closed. Hearing it shut while admiring her hazel eyes. Picking out on the details. She flinched at the sound, closing her eyes for a second.

“gonna give me the shirt back as well?”

“no.” she shook her head “I was thinking of keeping that one.”

He grinned finally pulling the jacket away from her and leaving it in one of the chairs so there would be nothing between them. “Does it look nice?” he asked making a step forward. She shrugged her shoulders, her expression indicating cluelessness. His thumb started playing with the zipper of her coat, before slowly pulling it down, revealing the black and yellow shirt more and more. Taylor stayed still while he did that, her eyes stuck on his lips which would slowly form a teasing smile. He let go of the zipper, his hand slipping on the shoulder, pushing the coat of her. So, he could see the whole shirt. He fingers trailed down her arm to her hand, holding on to it and gently spinning her the other way, his arm falling around and in front of her and trapping her in a way. He stood a little far from her only so he could see his number and then made a step forward. His lips ghosting her ear, his chin bumping on her hair, her back sticking on his chest. Her fingers crawled tighter around his. Like she was holding on so she wouldn’t sprint outside. Run for cover the same way that she ran the other night. Touch deprived, that’s all they were. She had to keep telling herself that, to make excuses for her actions.

“Kimpembe told me what you did. Defending me the other night.”

Kylian leaned closer, his lips now ghosting her cheeks that were starting to gain a rosy color. “That why you are here?” he asked.

She had to gulp so he wouldn’t hear the weakness in her voice “I don’t know” and somehow this was the most honest thing she had ever told him. Because she really had no idea.

“Do you wanna leave?”

“no.”

“Do you wanna stay?”

She hesitated “I think if you asked me to, I would.”

“do you want me to be a good kid?” he smiled.

“yes.” She answered quickly. He moved his face away from hers and placed his lips on the top of her head, speaking on her hair.

“Do you really?” he asked.

She closed her eyes. Falling backwards on him “no.”

He spun her around again; her eyes were still closed. His thumb grazed over her eyelids before his hand cupped her whole face from the back of her neck “then will you stay?”

She opened her eyes, he was so close and this was so wrong. Self destruction at it’s best. To hell with it. She got on her tiptoes, her hands finding the back of his neck and she pulled him to her, her lips finding his. He responded to the kiss in seconds, despite how surprised he was that she was the one that started it, his hands slipping under her shirt, fulfilling the skin to skin contact they both were craving while he deepened the kiss. He picked her up, laying her down on the bed gently. This time there were no lies between them, no hidden agendas. They both knew what they were doing, they were both to blame but ones again it didn’t matter. Not when they fit together so well.

She was the one that had come to him. She was the one that kissed him first and she was the one whimpering under his touch. It was different from the first time; first time was just hunger and lust. There was some sort of calmness between them this time. Like both of them had accepted their fate; meant to sink together. So when his lips made a home of her skin under her chin, she held him closer to her and when her hands searched for comfort in his body, he gave it.

Sloppy kisses, fingers travelling around dangerous areas and frictions that ignited electricity between the both of them. And he took care of her the best way he knew how. Taking off her shirt because the only thing better than his name on her back was her wearing nothing. Letting her straddle his waist while she helped him take off his pants. Their eyes meeting in the chaos, reflecting the consequences. Was it the thrill of winning? Was it the need to finish what they had started in the pool, in a room that no one would bother them in? She cupped his face with her hand, studying every line on his face. Like it was the last thing she’d see. “this ends here” she told him, just two days ago. But it had only just began. And there was nothing romantic about it.

We are on the final countdown. Can you believe it? I didn't think this story would reach as far as chapter 9 and still stay as popular. We have about 5 chapters left i think 😭 things we've still yet to find out: why is Taylor using the nickname jw? Is Galtier keeping her after the one month is over ?👀 Where the fuck is Ann? 👀 And is Taylor ok? Y'all always send me messages about how much you like her independence and I wanted to say thank youuu. The fact that you appreciate and love this character as much as me. See you very soon for chapter 10. It's gonna be the funniest one hehe, something @okayymochi has been waiting for a while 👀 i love you all, please keep comment with your thoughts, your comments make me cry laugh and most of all motivate me to keep writing. I adore you ❤️❤️

NEXT CHAPTER (9.1)

[leclsrc]

Heyyy, congrats on 2000! ❤️❤️

I have a request for Carlos + [ FIVE CALLS ].

what i feel for you – cs55

genre: fluff, 2k celebration, title from this

send for five times the receiver nearly calls the sender and the one time they do.

You’d told him the night prior about your date, gave him the usual crash course that came with these flings. He made a joke about how you should take advantage of the handsome men in Madrid, even if his heart felt like a giant foot had just smashed it. Because, Carlos reminds himself as he awaits your text again, he’s supposed to be a good friend.

It’s a weird label, friends. It’s a label for a relationship that’s something else entirely. Yeah, he’s your closest friend, but he’s here hoping you don’t pursue a second date. Yeah, you two are best friends, but you sleep in the same bed on cold nights during the season even if there are two in the hotel room.

His phone dings. Went like shit,you text. I’m in a pissy mood :(

Lando would tell him to take the chance while he can, like this is God or whoever giving him a sign to finally try and do it. And Carlos would say no, Lando, we’re just friends even if the younger guy would 100% be right. He swipes on your contact, hovers his thumb over the telephone icon, tries to picture how all this would go. 

You’d sigh, pick up in the middle of the third ring, be all I’m okay, Carlos in an effort to save yourself the sympathy, but he isn’t here for sympathy—he’s here to tell you he likes you. In the stronger way, in that way. What? I like you, he’ll insist. Come to mine and I’ll let you know how much.

Think I’ll go for drinks somewhere first Carlito, don’t wait up. He swipes off your contact, texts back OK, and waits for you all night.

—

When you’re a hotshot in Formula 1, you’re bound to be pushed into the face of a myriad of journalists. 

There’s clicking, flash, rehearsed questions Carlos still answers. They all ask the same shit, you’d think they all belonged to one magazine. But he braves through it anyway, tries to let the answers vary so he doesn’t sound as robotic as they do. But there are a few questions that have stuck to him.

“I imagine racing is the love of your life,” chirped the journalist, who he could barely see behind the shadow of the huge TV camera beside her. “Would you agree?” He’d hummed, gauging the possible answers: there was the easy yes, which would’ve made a good impression on racing fans seeing him in Toro Rosso for the first time; there was the no, which might’ve been a bit too dicey.

“It’s very important to me, but it’s not the love of my life.” Carlos decided finally, laughing.

“Playing coy, I see!” She exclaimed.

But the truth was, Carlos wasn’t “playing coy.” He really didn’t name racing the love of his life—because there’s only one thing that enters his mind when he thinks of the phrase, and he wished to save the phrase for that and that only. Racing is fast, it’s passionate and rapid fire, but that—it’s so different.

He almost tells you about it a few years later, when he’s exhausted from Ferrari media day and the memory replays in his head. You’re in Asia for work right now, so he hopes the call he’s about to place will go through anyway.

He’s smiling, walking to his car, and line is just about to ring when he realizes—how can he tell you the story, if it means admitting you were the answer?

—

Everyone has high tolerance until it comes to tequila. At least Carlos thinks so—the state he’s in is definitely not sober and Lando, across him, is in even worse shape. They’ve drained a whole bottle at this point, laughing back and forth and dancing to the music at the bar.

“I’m only serving tequila at my future wedding,” belches Lando, wearing a pair of sunglasses neither of them owns.

“Amen.” Carlos squints at the thought of marriage, pulls out his phone and finds your name under the Favorites section of his contacts. The cheeky little shit Lando catches on immediately, whistling a high teasing tune to get under Carlos’ skin.

“I say ‘wedding’ once and already you’re off calling her,” he quips. “I better be best man.”

“We’re just friends,” he slurs, smelling Cuervo on his breath. “You know.”

The line rings once, twice—Carlos opens his mouth and says “Hello? Did you know I…”

He passes out before he gets to the rest of it.

—

The drivers make a night’s trip around the city, and they stop at the Trevi Fountain.

“Throw a coin in and you return to Rome,” Charles says factually, like he’s their tour guide or something.

“Does it allow normal wishes?” Carlos, already amused, presses the phone icon near your name to tell you what he’s up to. The spotty signal slows the call. 

“Depends. What are you wishing for?”

“Her.” Lando points at your name on Carlos’ phone.

He hangs up. “A world champion title, actually,” he lies.

—

“Hey Carlito, I’m on my way to the room.”

“With pizza?” Lando hollers into the speakerphone. Carlos laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Yes, obviously,” you say, but your voice is laggy through the phone. You’ve visited them in Italy for the weekend, taking a break from work to meet your best friend again after weeks of being apart. And of course Lando and Carlos sort of came as a package deal these days, so you dealt with him, too.

Carlos takes you off speaker after you say your byes and see-you-soons, pocketing his phone. The Brit doesn’t miss a beat in teasing him. “Dude! Even your voice sounds so down bad, mate.”

“It does not.” Carlos doesn’t even know what down bad means. 

“Low it! You’ve loved this girl for how the fuck long and you’re never going to tell her, will you?”

“How do you tell a friend you love them?” Carlos sighs. “It’s—dios mio, it’s difficult. I’m in love with her but it’s a risk to think she feels the same. And”—Lando opens his mouth to protest—“yeah, yeah I know that’s love, I know that’s the whole point, but I couldn’t live with myself if I lost a friend because of these estupido feelings.”

Two raps sound on the door, and he gets up to let you in. “Okay? So shut up.”

Lando watches his friend swing the door open, and sees you on the other side holding up your phone.

AA Carlito, it says, signifying the call was never hung up. You smile. “The feelings aren’t that estupido.”

[bcyhoods]

cece oh em gee let’s talk about eddie brock pls. rivals to lovers as competing journalists and and he flirts with you to annoy you and “distract” you from your work but really he just has a big fat crush on you 🤭

YES let’s talk about this!!! there would be so much tension because you both find each other so annoyingly attractive. and he would totally say that flirting with you is just to annoy you, but that man is down so bad it’s almost pathetic.

like imagine both of you are on your way to interview the same company executive.

you’re going back over your notes, checking every single bullet point you’ve jotted down, practicing a few questions when you bump into somebody’s back and oh, great that leather jacket is too familiar.

“how did i know it was you?” he jokes once he turns to see your frazzled expression. and his smile is way too wide, the wrinkles on the sides of his bright eyes are too prominent, and how does he look so good with stubble?

“i think you were just hoping it was me.” you jut your chin out and stand tall, winking at him. “looking forward to seeing my face, brock?”

he so totally was. because despite being from a rival journal, he likes the back-and-forth thing you’ve got going on. the fact that he finds you attractive definitely helps, too. and you can see his ears start turning a bright shade of red before he’s patting his sweaty palms on the sides of his jacket.

“let me get the door for ya. i’m a gentleman.” he reaches for the tall, glass door in front of you and motions you inside with a tight smile.

“oh please, you just want an excuse to look at my ass.”

“i thought you liked when i did that,” he quips back with a smirk and your entire face feels hot.

meanwhile, venom is having a blast teasing eddie about his crush every chance he gets

[armoricaroyalty]

some dialogue tips

Okay, I expanded a bit on my thoughts from earlier and wrote...like 800 words? Here’s a collection of largely-unrelated thoughts about writing dialogue. I’m not an expert wordsmith by any means, but I’ve been doing simblr stories for about 2.5 years and writing creatively for much longer, so I hope some of this is helpful!

Read your dialogue out loud. In my opinion, the most important quality in dialogue is flow. Does the back-and-forth feel natural? Is the conversation stilted, or does it feel like something people might actually say? When you’re reading words on paper, it can be difficult to identify the rough patches. Your eyes are a different instrument than your ears and your brain processes speech and written text in different ways. If you’re stuck, read your dialogue out loud. The clunky phrases will jump out and be much easier to correct than if you left it on the page.

Different people talk differently. Dialogue is a tremendous vehicle for characterization, and I feel like I don’t see people discuss that point very often! What a character chooses to say and how they say it can tell us a lot about who a character is, where they come from, and what they value. You don’t need to strain yourself to come up with a completely unique voice for every single character, but if you remove dialogue tags and can’t tell whether a given line belongs to the 19-year-old stoner or their 65-year-old grandparent, you’ve missed an opportunity to imbue your characters with a lot of flavor and personality. Consider your characters’ personalities and ask yourself whether they’d use slang and profanity, whether they ramble or get straight to the point, whether they use complicated professional jargon or simpler and more accessible language, whether they hold back in conversation or say everything that pops into their head…

Most utterances are pretty short. In real life, it’s very rude to monologue or dominate a conversation without giving the other person a chance to reply. If one “line” of dialogue is more than one or two sentences long, the character will probably come across as if they’re delivering a monologue, not having a conversation. Break up longer lines of dialogue and include a bit of back-and-forth to keep the conversation flowing.

If a character is talking for a long time, spread the dialogue up across multiple screenshots. This is a personal preference thing, but if I’ve got a character who is talking for an extended period of time, I like to break the dialogue up across multiple screenshots. A screenshot with 4 lines of text is visually cluttered and makes it seem like the character is saying the whole thing in one breath. The same four lines of text distributed across 2-3 screenshots is visually neater and has a greater sense of pacing and rhythm.

Real speech is unpolished… There’s a joke among journalists that you can make anyone seem stupid by quoting them verbatim. In ordinary conversation, people often pause for thought, use filler words, and talk over one another. In my writing, I make heavy use of ellipses and em-dashes to try to give a sense of how the character is speaking, in addition to what they’re saying (perhaps I overuse them…) If you’re trying to represent ordinary conversations between ordinary people, including those kinds of verbal errors can bring a lot of life to your dialogue.

…but don’t strive for realism (strive for verisimilitude instead). Actual, real-life conversations are almost unlistenable (said the guy currently listening to a podcast). In real life, people often repeat themselves, interrupt one another, say the same things over and over, go on tangents, and say the same things multiple times in a redundant fashion. If you include too many of those kinds of markers in your written dialogue, your story can quickly become unreadable, even if it reflects a “realistic” manner of speech. In general, your dialogue doesn’t need to be realistic, it needs to feel real. (Verisimilitude basically means a sense of truthfulness [as opposed to realism] in fiction.)

People rarely address each other by name... This might be a unique-to-me issue, but when I reread my old writing, something that jumps out to me is how often I have characters use one another’s names in casual conversation. In real life, people very rarely use titles and names except in greetings and introductions. In general, if you have characters heavily using names mid-conversation, you should go back and eliminate a few.

...with some exceptions! In formal and workplace settings, using someone’s name or title is a verbal marker of respect. Characters in settings with formal hierarchies (militarizes, royal families) will be likelier to use titles and honorifics. Using a person’s name can also be a way to emphasize your point or express sincerity. You might also need to incorporate an occasional name or title in a heavy-handed way in order to deliver exposition or remind readers of the relationship between two characters. For example, I’ve got an upcoming scene where I have a character address their cousin as ‘Cousin’ in a very stilted way. I hate that it’s clunky, but I decided it was necessary because I thought readers would need the reminder that those two characters are related.

Conversations should build to something. In a back-and-forth, each new line of dialogue should move the conversation forward. Imagine this back-and-forth:    A: How are you doing?    B: Terrible! my car broke down.    A: It broke down? But you just took it to the shop!    B: I know, the mechanic lied to me about the repairs! The last line in that conversation has nothing to do with the first line in that conversation. If B had responded to A’s greeting by saying “the mechanic lied to me!” they’d seem slightly unhinged -- it’s an abrupt change of topic, but just two additional lines give it context and make it flow. When you’re writing these kinds of exchanges, you want to make sure that one character’s line makes sense as a response. If A had said “It’s good to see you!” instead of “How are you doing?” B’s reply would feel jarring, and you’d need to find a different way for them to introduce the subject of the broken-down car into the conversation.

I love to write guides. I should do that more, lmao.

[t1oui]

next gen oc intro: leilani parkinson-zabini

i've brought you deamus, perciver, and marcus x penelope oc kids. today i bring you scorpius's godsister/younger sister and albus potter's #1 fan.

so after the war (and a bit before it really gets going) pansy and blaise have a friends with benefits thing going on for years, i'm talking over a decade. when pansy gets pregnant with leilani they cut it off and decide to be just friends

leilani is a full ten years younger than scorpius, but that doesn't stop them from being a dynamic duo. leilani grows up being absolutely spoiled not just by her parents but by scorpius, who spends every summer taking her on walks around the garden

leilani is only 4 when astoria dies; she doesn't get why scorpius, who's always smiling with her, is so sad all of the sudden. she does everything she can to cheer him up, and it helps, even if just a little.

when leilani is 5, she meets albus, and he is one of her favorite people right off the bat. al isn't great with kids but she looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky anyway. (he comes to like it.)

leilani's always spent a lot of time at malfoy manor anyway, especially during the summers, but her dad officially moves in with draco soon after her 8th birthday. (scorpius helps her hang mistletoe all over the house. he's 17 now, but he spends just as much time with her when he's home.)

when leilani is 9, her mum joins her and her dad at malfoy manor, and she doesn't have to go back and forth between their homes anymore. the bed in the room down the hall is crowded with draco, pansy, and blaise in it, so whenever leilani has bad dreams, she drags one of them back to her room instead of climbing into their bed.

some would argue that she's too old, but at age 11, leilani jumps at the chance to be the flower girl at albus and scorpius's wedding. it's the summer before her first year, where she'll be sorted into ravenclaw just like her older brother, and she can't wait.

~ ~ ~

some more info about leilani:

she/her

closest next gen relation is alice longbottom ii (3 years older)

ravenclaw (i hc scorpius as a ravenclaw too so they were in the same house)

undecided if she plays quidditch or not but if she does she'd probably play seeker

sometimes secretly wishes she looked more like scorpius

loves having her hair braided (it's usually done by scorpius, blaise, or albus)

unsure how to refer to draco because she considers him one of her parents but he's always just been draco (she usually calls him dray)

has a secret handshake with albus

love of nature inspired by scorpius's garden walks with her when she was a baby

(she helps draco redo the gardens at malfoy manor. albus helps too)

draco, blaise, pansy, scorpius, and albus (her family) are her favorite people

extroverted but likes the quiet moments with her loved ones, too

has adhd

loves to swim. albus takes her to a pool in muggle london with him during the summers

does crossword puzzles with blaise and scorpius

likes going shopping, but loves making her own dresses even more (pansy taught her how. she made her own flower girl dress.)

when looking for a career, considers following in her parents' footsteps - she could be a hogwarts professor like blaise, a journalist like pansy, or a healer like draco - before opening her own boutique

(albus and scorpius recommend her business to all their coworkers)

she doesn't know many of the wotters well - many of them are, like albus, much older than her - but thinks rose and roxanne are cool because they look like her (they both have dark skin)

when leilani was younger, hermione sent her a book she had when she was little about women in history. leilani's probably read it 1000 times by the time she heads to hogwarts

struggles with calling blaise "dad" during class (he teaches charms) for the first few weeks, now she regularly calls him "professor zabini" as a joke

her patronus is a bay mare

talks about celebrity crushes with albus (scorpius is horrible with technology and therefore doesn't know any celebrities)

scorpius isn't the cool older brother, leilani is the cool younger sister

a mix of blaise's tall genes and pansy's abysmally short genes have left her pretty much average height, she's a few inches shorter than albus

i'll stop here but i love this girl, she's just so fun to write :)

[maria-rayro]

catboy!charlie x hector munday

The life of cat-people was not easy and serene. For centuries, they were a quite discriminated group: they had no voting rights, they were considered not full-fledged humans, but rather a supplement to the "normal" members of society, something like a very expensive pet, the ownership of which added some points to the status of the owner. In the twenty-first century, of course, the situation became better: cat-people obtained equal rights and continued to defend their independence from other humans; they began to be respected, and sometimes they even managed to occupy leading positions in different companies. But the world continued to be imperfect. Cats were still more exposed to domestic violence and other forms of violence based on hatred, they were more often victims of sexual abuse and so on, and they were often kidnapped in order to be sold into slavery. The protection of their rights has long been on the agenda of the UN and other international organisations, but few have felt the effects of the declaration of equality.

Charles was bullied as a child at the school he attended - he was teased, pulled by his ears and tail, given inappropriate jokes. All of this led to a lot of complexes in his adult life and a lack of affection for people. Even when he moved to the US and started working as an investigative journalist, it still didn't leave him. In addition, in the industry, he is occasionally treated as a second-class human being. Some would mock the 'cute little cat', and some would try to get him into bed with them, arguing that they had 'heard about the unique ability of cats to please'. In general, Charles did not like being a cat guy, and he had his reasons for that.

At the same time, it was a part of his life that could not be got rid of, and he was aware of that.

One day, after he had once again failed and found himself all alone in the city, with almost no money and absolutely no friends around, Lonnit just wandered the deserted night streets, ears pressed to his head and staring sadly at his feet. The rain was beginning to fall more and more heavily, and this depressed him even more, so much so that at one point tears rolled down his cheeks. He stopped near the street lamp and just sat down on the pavement, hugging his knees.

He had no idea what to do.

His hair was getting wetter and wetter from the noisy droplets falling from the sky, and his clothes were starting to get wet as well. At some point it was as if he couldn't feel any more drops on him, though from the sound of it, it was still raining. He raised his head in confusion and saw a quiet man standing nearby, opening a black umbrella over him. The man was wearing a beige coat and a black hat and looked like the most clichéd noir detective in the world. Charlie blinked confusedly, looking at him. "H-Hello," stutters the young man.

"Well hello there. Need any help?" asks the man, tilting his head slightly to the side, peering at the wet cat boy. Lonnit is about to say, out of habit, that everything is fine and there is no need to worry about him, when suddenly the man removes his coat and puts it over Charles's shoulders. He takes his breath away for a few moments and looks at him like… a kitten. Yes. A most suitable description, perhaps. "Come on, you need to warm up," the man says, holding out his hand to the Charles.

Lonnit quickly casts a glance back and forth between the hand reached out and the stranger's face. Perhaps he is about to make another stupid decision - is it the 30th for this month? - and takes hold of his hand, standing up with his help, and wraps himself a little more tightly in a coat that is too big for him. The man nods, urging him to follow, and carefully holds up his umbrella so as to shelter the cat boy from the rain with it. "And you are… um… and w-who are you?" asks Charlie.

"Agent Munday. I mean Hector," the man replies calmly, smiling faintly at him, and Lonnit just nods awkwardly, becoming silent. They walk a short distance, just a couple of houses, and finally walk into an entranceway, followed by a small flat. Munday shakes off the drips from his umbrella and carelessly lays it by the entrance, and then takes his coat off Charles and hangs it up. Lonnit staying tentatively in place, wary and faintly wagging his tail. "Gotta get your clothes dry. I'll give you mine for now. Go change, the bathroom's that way," he nods at the right door. Charlie continues to stand still, undecided, wondering if it's too late to apologise and run off shamefully with his tail between his legs. Eventually he does give in under the calm gaze of the brown eyes and, with a sigh, goes to the bathroom to take off his soaked clothes. "And take a shower. That'll warm you up quicker," Hector says after him, and Lonnit only nods awkwardly.

Taking off his clothes, he hesitantly climbs into the shower cubicle. The hot water warms him pleasantly almost instantly, and he exhales relaxedly, covering his eyes. It feels good. Very good. He just stands like this for a while, and then begins to wash his head, body and tail, wondering at the same time what kind of situation he's put himself in. He really went to a stranger's house. Really undressed in his bathroom. God, that's obviously not going to be good for Charles.

He gets out of the shower and suddenly notices a pile of clothes and a towel on a small table nearby. He doesn't even seem to have heard Hector come into the room and bring it all in. Lonnit sighs softly. Okay. Maybe it's just some pervert. He can handle a pervert. Just as long as it's not some maniac.

Once he's dried off, he examines the clothes the man gave him. It turns out to be a T-shirt that says "No one knows I'm a serial killer" and pajama trousers with ties. The whole thing looks a bit baggy on Charles, and the pants even have to be twisted up a bit. The T-shirt smells good, but not like some kind of laundry detergent - no, it's something else. Perfume? Charlie sniffs, but still doesn't know what it smells like.

Opening the door, he steps cautiously out of the room barefoot and, treading softly like a cat, goes in search of the man. He finds him in the kitchen. There is already a cup of tea on the table and something is definitely cooking on the cooker - Charles unconsciously sniffs and realises that it is chicken and rice. He licks his lips as he sits down at the table and looks curiously at the agent who has not yet noticed him. He continues to cook quietly, and Charlie takes a moment to examine his behaviour more closely while he thinks no one is seeing him.

Hector seems calm, so… ordinary. He's still in the same suit he was wearing before, just his gloves off. And he seems to be humming something to himself. Suddenly he turns around to put a plate of food on the table and flinches when he sees Charles. "Jesus! You scared me. How long have you been sitting here?" he asks, putting everything in front of the young man and wiping his hands with a towel.

"Three minutes," confesses with an innocent smile Lonnit. Munday shakes his head slightly.

"Eat" he simply says.

"Thank you," Charlie replies awkwardly, picking up his fork and starting to eat. For some reason he's not at all worried that the food might be poisoned. Hector, meanwhile, goes on with his household chores, washing the frying pan and wiping the crumbs off the cutting board. "Ah… you're not a maniac, are you?" inquires Lonnit, and Munday turns around somewhat bewildered at him, before smiling, clearly amused by the young man's words.

"You're a very careless kitty, aren't you?" asks Hector, leaning his lower back against the tabletop, and Charlie twitches his ears slightly. "And no, I'm not a maniac. I already told you - I'm Agent Munday. I work for the FBI."

"Can you… um… can you not call me that, please, Agent Munday?" awkwardly dares Lonnit to ask after all. "It's a bit rude, actually."

"I'm sorry. I don't know your name," replies Hector calmly, and the young man smiles.

"Charlie. Charlie Lonnit".

"And how did you end up in this situation, Charlie?" asks Munday, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Lonnit sighs, lowering his gaze to his plate. "Well… long story short, I'm a journalist, and I've been duped by a man who promised to give me important information regarding an investigation I'm conducting…" he sighs, sadly shaking his tail. "And now I'm in an unfamiliar city with no money and no acquaintances. And also without any information for an article."

"And what's your article about?" inquires Hector.

"About the Beast of Arkansas," Charlie replies. "'Thought no one could write about these murders better than me. Well, and I kind of feel… like it's my duty, you know. To speak out. After all, he's killing people like me."

"He kills people like you, and you thought it would be a great idea to go to the town he's doing this?" asks Munday, and Lonnit shrugs awkwardly, smiling.

"I'm a silly cat, what can I say?" he jokes. "Curiosity killed the cat and all that, but life never teaches me anything. That's why I'm in this situation," sighs Charles, and his ears droop a little. Hector, looking at it intently, tilts his head sideways with interest, thinking.

"Well, maybe fate has been kind to you this time after all," he says suddenly, and Lonnit looks up at him bewildered. "At least you weren't kidnapped and killed in an alleyway somewhere. I'm willing to provide you with a warm bed, and… maybe - just maybe - I can answer some of your questions about the Beast, since I'm the one investigating his case," Hector explains, and Charles' pupils suddenly dilate towards the end of his speech. It looks a little funny and cute, and Munday even smiles a bit.

He's always been a cat person.

"Really? You're not kidding? Oh, thank you very much, Agent Munday!" Charlie smiles, and his tail starts twitching excitedly from side to side. "I… don't know how to thank you for this opportunity."

"I think you've already repaid me enough for everything with your charmingly grateful smile," Hector smiles slightly, trying not to flirt too bluntly so as not to embarrass the young man; he smiles back sweetly. "But I'd still prefer you to eat and sleep first. All right?" offers Munday, and the young man nods hastily.

A little later, Hector watches him as he falls asleep on his bed, curled up in a ball, and thinks to himself that he should probably really get himself a cat.

Or a lover.

Or Charles.

[writinginfinite]

imagine part iii

imagine: form a mental image or a concept

plot: you didn’t know what you were getting into when you turned your hobby into an actual career on f1. based on Lewis’ “imagine” tweet.

Tuesday March 15, 2022

"they already accepted me, so why not ask?" 

It was the afternoon when you finished packing and cleaning up your apartment because you were leaving for Bahrain later that night. There is a noteworthy time zone difference, so you wanted to get to Bahrain a day early in order to adjust. After all, this was your first race weekend as an accredited journalist and you wanted it all to go smoothly.

You were tired, so you laid on your couch because you had not had a complete night's rest since Saturday after receiving the email. You reflected on the past few days and tried not to get emotional (again).

You did not tell anyone the same day because you wanted to be 100% sure it was not a sick joke. So after some back and forward, it was indeed true. They gave you details on how to retrieve your media pass and also sent in an ID photo. You were grateful you did your hair into butterfly locs the week before so, that was one less thing to worry about. 

Deep down, you wanted to know why they had denied you for the 2021 season so, after having everything set in stone you asked the correspondent why they constantly denied you. You knew the rules were tough because you read the guidelines from cover to cover and met all the qualifications plus some. You thought to yourself, "They already accepted me, so why not ask?" 

You sent in the data traffic from your website, showing how you constantly had written at least 4 days a week for the past few years. You had videos; you were the whole package. There was no reason for them to deny you. 

They tried downplaying your body of work, but you could back up everything. You even kept tabs on other journalists and creators who started around the same time as you while putting in half the work. You worked twice as hard as them because it was just you, not a team. There was a lot of beating around the bush in the correspondence, but when you broke it down and read between the lines, it all made sense. The FIA media and paddock weren't ready for someone like you. 

You were someone who questioned decisions and called for accountability throughout the 2021 season. When you put two and two together, they all had something in common you didn't have. It was something you had no say in when you were born. The color of your skin. You saw the flack of another journalist who works in F1, but she had the racing qualifications; you not so much. You were very vague about your previous career. After all, you didn't need viewers and outsiders questioning your qualifications because your background wasn't in motorsports or journalism. Although it was close enough that you were more than qualified to know what you were talking about. 

You are a Black female with no racing background, but a fan who was always wanting to learn. You had the education, determination, and skills but you knew you'd have to work twice as hard and with caution. One wrong move and they could get rid of you quickly and with ease. 

So you kept your feelings to yourself and just responded, "Thank you so much for the feedback. I'll take that into consideration and work on my production and writing." Smirking and laughing the whole time typing that because you knew you were lying through your teeth.

The first people you called were your parents and siblings, then Ashlyn. You told them all but had one condition - don't tell anyone or post until I share it with others. You kept your private and public life separate, almost like two separate entities. You kept your public social media strictly F1 (and other motorsports) related. You never posted your family, friends, outings, relationship status, and so forth on there. That's what your private social media was for, even though you kind of kept your relationship status (nonexistent as it may be) from almost everyone. It was the same answer when they asked, "I'm working on myself and I'm too busy to dedicate myself to someone. " You never thought you'd be the woman whose job took up a lot of her life but that's how the cards played out.

You were watching those close to you get married and have children, but that currently wasn't for you. You heard the occasional "Don't you wish that was you?" "Wouldn't a mini you be so cute?" "Aren't you lonely?" You knew they meant well and didn't take it personally. You were finally in a good place in life because you had everything you dreamt of. 

The sound of your 18:00 (6 pm) alarm woke you up out of your thoughts. It was time for you to call an Uber to get you to the airport. Next stop Bahrain, and this time you weren't entering the gates through the fan entrance. You were an officially accredited member of the media. 

// parts

author's notes: another slow burn, sorry. i wanted to break this up. part iv sunday (or earlier)

[kazuma-asogi-blog]

All right, here I am, I got dragged through hell and fought my way back out and that's why I'm late - sorry, Kazzy, they didn't even sell tshirts at the gift shop so I couldn't bring you back one, I know, I'm a terrible friend and you should get to stab me somewhere nonfatal about it - but I promised you a story about your sister, and now I shall give it to you!

As the joke goes, our dear friend and defendant Rei Membami, an inspector, a famous author, an assassin, and a hitchhiker walked onto a beach... And unsurprisingly, someone got murdered, and somewhat surprisingly, it was the assassin who died!

But because Jezaille Brett was a hot potato of international politics, no one wanted to take Rei's case, so your dear sister Miss Susato stole some of your clothes, put up her hair, and decided to do her very best Ryunosuke impression and defend her. And so Naruhodo Ryutaro was born! (Hope you don't mind she borrowed your clothes. If you do mind, the complaints box requires you to stop hiding from Yujin.)

So Miss Susato went up against Auchi, who grew back some hair and was swearing up and down he was going to take out a Naruhodo. He opened with a summary of the case: Jez was found facedown in a beach hut with a knife in her back and a pen in her hand, and Rei was alone in the hut with her corpse. Figures, right? She was allowed to visit the beach because they were shipping her off to be tried in Shanghai the next day and they were letting her continue her research in deadly poisons under supervision, which somehow didn't backfire on them. He figured Rei stabbed her because she was working under Johnny-boy and since Jez killed him, Rei wanted some revenge.

He even had two witnesses, who surprise surprise, were Hosonaga and Soseki Natsume. (Please imagine Hosonaga with beach clothes and a turtle on his head. I can also get you pictures if you don't believe me.)

Earlier in the day, Natsume had an interview with Yujin for the press, and joined Hosonaga and Jez for the beach, and Yujin sent Rei in his place since she's working under him now. They heard a scream while they were there, ran to the hut, and there was Rei with a bloodstained knife and Jez on the ground, so they figured she'd been stabbed multiple times.

Miss Susato picked up on that and went "huh, that's funny," because the post-mortem said she'd been stabbed once. They argued back and forth about why the knife was bloodstained when she had it, and whether or not she was trying to just pull it out of her (despite knives generally keeping blood in the body, which does not happen when they are removed), before eventually finding out that hey, wait, Jez's eyes were real messed-up, was she poisoned too?

Spoiler alert, there wasn't any poison on the knife, but there sure was in her drink! And the poison was a fancy one Yujin had been developing alongside Rei and Jez, that had been stolen earlier that day! Rei thought Jez had done it and gone to confront her, and Jez had refused and then collapsed with a knife in her back, because dying is a great way to get out of unpleasant conversations.

Interestingly enough, it turned out Auchi had another photograph, this time of Rei holding the knife that was very much still in Jez's back. But of course, for that photo to exist, someone must have taken it, and that someone had to be there to do it. Some sleuthery on Miss Susato's part brought the reporter who had taken Soseki and Yujin's interview to the witness stand, and why he'd snuck along on their trip.

'Course, this reporter, Raiten Menimemo, swore up and down Rei stabbed Jez, and that he'd gone there to interview Jez for the press, and then she hadn't said anything of actual journalistic value. Yujin thought it was pretty interesting he never reported her death to the press, and then Miss Susato was able to identify the pen Jez had when she died as his. Funny, that.

Raiten wouldn't testify without Soseki also testifying, and Soseki did catch Jez just before she died, and asked her who killed her. She pointed to the back of the hut, not quite where Rei was, but pretty close. Miss Susato theorized that Raiten totally could've stabbed her through the reed wall, but he cut back with "hey but she was poisoned first!" and that he couldn't have done it even if he totally did stab her. Which he did.

Miss Susato was able to prove pretty easily that Rei wouldn't have poisoned Jez with a poison only from Yujin's lab, because it would have immediately implicated her and she isn't that stupid, but the article Raiten had written about the interview with Soseki and Yujin included details that absolutely came from Rei's argument with Jez over the stolen poison. So he could have poisoned her, realized it was too easy to track, and then stabbed her to hide it.

Pretty classy for someone who didn't study Jez's methods, I'd say. Or maybe I just don't trust any autopsy or post-mortem at this point because those love to just be wrong, all the time, always.

'Course, Raiten's last argument was that he couldn't have stolen the poison, because he didn't have any way of getting it out of the lab, and maybe that would have worked, but you know. Jez had his pen when she died, and Miss Susato had it tested for poison. He totally dunked it in poison and then dunked the poison in her drink when he interviewed her. So mostly what we've learned here is that if you kill someone, you will die in the exact same way and that is what we call consequences for your actions, although there's another term for that I'll teach you later when I've worn you down enough you let me teach you all the fun English expletives.

Miss Susato wins the trial, she gets a tearful reunion with her best friend, and when Raiten loses it over Japan's willingness to let Jez loose because Britain asked them to, Susato and Rei hit him with a good ol' Ryutaro Takedown. To top it off, Auchi cut off the hair he grew back after you gave him a good ol' shave so he wouldn't have to live on in shame. Because we needed to see his bald head, I guess.

And that's the story of your sister getting to be the first female lawyer in Japan! I figure it'll take her two years to make that legal so she can just be a lawyer without stealing your clothes, but hey, she looked good and you weren't using them anyway so it isn't a problem.

Shame you were off convincing Ziekkyboy to let your amnesic butt stay at his place so you didn't get murdered at the time, you would've loved to be there. I know no one's let you set the Japanese legal system on fire and tapdance on the ashes yet, but it turns out 'sixteen year old girl with a vendetta armed with her believed-to-be-dead older brother's clothes' is a pretty good substitute, so congrats, my dear Kazzy- you got them anyway from beyond the grave! Now we just need to teach her how to make a molotov cocktail and then we'll really have this party in full swing.

Well. That's quite the story. You have my thanks for taking the time to explain it all. I won't stab you...for being late. But I believe you also agreed to start calling me by my actual name, didn't you?

It's frustrating Jezaille Brett was given such leeway after the trial. But I suppose I was meant to benefit from the same treatment had I gone through with the assassination mission.

Ha! Prosecutor Auchi still thinks he can take down a Naruhodo, does he? It sounds like he just needs a little haircut from time to time to remind him which clan is superior.

So Membami-san really didn't do anything; she was just a victim of circumstance. Still a bit foolhardy, confronting a murderer alone, but not as reckless as I feared. It's an unfortunate situation with having no lawyer to take her case. It was a need I was passionate about filling as a defense attorney, which now Ryunosuke will fill in my stead.

A Ryutaro Takedown in the courtroom...nothing in the history of Japan's Supreme Court could ever compare.

@susato-mikotoba-blog: That is a remarkable thing you did for your friend. Not only would it have taken an extraordinary amount of cleverness, but also great bravery to take such a risk. Well done, Susato-san. I am proud of you.

[saffronapplemanga]

Gene Bride - ジーンブライド

DRAMA, SCI-FI, MYSTERY

Gene Bride by Takano Hitomi

(2 volumes, ongoing)

JP only - English summary in this post

Links to my other manga posts here

I can't remember where I first saw this manga (the bookstore some time ago probably) and tbh I kinda forgot about it. But Colleen's Manga Recs made a video recently that reminded me I wanted to check Gene Bride out. So here we are.

This series won second place in the オンナ編 (Female Category) for the このマンガがすごい！ 2023 / Kono Manga ga Sugoi 2023 / “This Manga is Amazing! 2023″. (My post about the first-place winner here!)

Another blind read and all I knew about it was that it had sci-fi elements. After reading the two currently out volumes, I think we have yet another manga to throw into the "publishers, please license this" pile.

This manga has so many moments that made me go, "Mood."

Spoilers for volume one will be labeled and my thoughts will be after that. There's a twist at the end of volume one that I will label if you just want to know the premise without getting spoiled for the twist. Twitter reading thread here. Twitter link to this post here.

***SPOILERS FOR VOLUME ONE***

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Isahaya Ichi is an entertainment journalist interviewing a director about his new movie. Literally, on page one, from the moment the director opened his mouth, I immediately disliked him. I'm not joking when I say from the first two words I already knew where he was going. The 「ね、君…」 "Hey, you..." gave me the ick and I groaned. I'm not going to Japanese language deep dive to explain but briefly — using 君 in this context is kinda rude and he should've referred to her as Ms. Isahaya. A more polite version would've been like 「あの/すみません、諫早さん…」 "Excuse me, Ms. Isahaya.” Anyway, the director proceeds to talk to Ichi in a way that many women are unfortunately familiar with, essentially not taking her seriously and being inappropriate. And Ichi is rightfully PISSED.

In the very next scene, she's going for a jog and... some creep is waiting for her to pass through her running route and... jacking off in public to her running past... Apparently, this isn't the first time that guy has done so. Yikes.

Back at her office, two men with an appointment come by. Opening the door for them, one of the men presents her with a box of chocolates and says, "Isahaya Ichi. Do you remember me? I'm Masaki Makuhito. I was your soulmate." He proceeds to mention something about "Gene Bride." Ichi doesn't remember him but finds out that he was a classmate at the academy she went to. After some funny and awkward back and forth, we learn that Masaki had tagged along with the other man, Takechi, to see Ichi so he could give her chocolates and thank her. But thank her for what?

That night, Ichi dreams of her school days and we see some images that raise a lot of questions. Young Ichi in uniform, teachers, a "Life Plan" survey for students to fill out (NOT a "Career Plan" survey), multiple bridal couples at a "Gene Bride" event, and a girl calling Ichi's name. She wakes up in a cold sweat.

Ichi's boss, Hibiki, gave Masaki extra tickets their office got to a viewing of the director's movie which causes them to run into each other there. After the viewing, they see the director and the director proceeds to sexually harass her again.

Ugh..........

Ichi notices that when Masaki was talking to the director, the conversation was... well, normal and relevant. They actually discussed the movie and its references instead of... her looks and the fact she's a woman. The two share a taxi when they leave and Masaki tells her that he wanted to thank her for something back in their school days. They were told to not eat or drink anything because the school was going to take saliva samples so they could pair up the students for "Gene Bride." However, Masaki accidentally ate chocolate and was afraid to tell the teachers about it. When he was trying to figure out what to do, Ichi stood up and told the teachers that she accidentally ate chocolate herself which gave Masaki the opportunity to hightail it out of there. The two of them ended up getting paired together for "Gene Bride" as a result meaning they weren't technically soulmates since their saliva tests couldn't be done properly.

I love them.

Understandably, Ichi starts wondering why Masaki showed up all of a sudden seemingly out of nowhere, why the academy and "Gene Bride" business came back up. She starts to remember her friend from the academy and it seems like something had happened to the friend, haunting Ichi. Essentially, she works herself up to the point where she thinks Masaki came to say his thanks because he's dying and he's wrapping up loose ends. But, uh... he's fine. He's not dying lolll.

Had me hollering tbh.

She later has a job for other interviews with men, and Hibiki doesn't want to send Ichi alone as the number of times she's been harassed on the job is just disgusting. So Hibiki considers asking a male friend to accompany her to ensure Ichi is safe while doing her job (LOVE Hibiki!!!). Just then, Masaki happened to be visiting their office and they ask him to tag along on the job. Unsurprisingly, the interview went smoothly, and Ichi was taken seriously and respected — all because Masaki was silently sitting next to her. He tried to excuse himself to use the bathroom but Ichi refuses to let him get up as the last time a male colleague left her for a moment, the harassment started as if a switch got flipped.

After the job is done, she looks at some rings in the window of a store, considering buying one. She walks away and Masaki asks if she didn't want to get a ring but she says she just wanted one to use as "bug repellant," which leaves him confused as to what she means. Ichi has another interview to do right after this and tells Masaki not to come. He asks why and she doesn't give him a straight answer and tells him to figure it out for himself while he waits for her to come back. At first, he says, "Whatever, I don't wanna know that bad anyway. I have other stuff to worry about." So Ichi replies with, "How nice it must be. You guys can just think about yourselves and only yourselves. Meanwhile, we have to think about you. Otherwise, we risk getting ourselves killed." She walks away leaving him, and the questions he's left with annoy him to the point he makes it his mission to find the answers.

Truly, what a concept.

It turns out the reason he couldn't come to this particular interview is because she was going to meet a voice actress who had been harassed so badly, she almost completely left the industry. She was thankfully able to make a comeback but now surrounds herself with only female staff.

When Ichi comes back to meet with Masaki after her job is done, he starts rattling off all the research he did and talking about all the questions he now has answers to. He also knows why Ichi was looking at rings and offers her one he bought for her while also acknowledging how ridiculous it is that she even has to consider such measures in the first place. She's thrown off by the whole interaction and Masaki himself. Turns out the ring was not actually a ring, but a hook he got from a craft store. He says something along the lines of, "It's really handy. It looks like a ring but if you flip it over it becomes a weapon with the pointy end, which is perfect for you because you're so aggressive. And! You can use it to hang something on your wall."

I love it. 10/10 scene. I was laughing, crying, screaming, kicking my feet.

The chapter ends with the sentiment that things can change for the better little by little, eluding back to a conversation she had with Hibiki at the beginning of the chapter.

Breezing through the rest of the volume, Ichi asks Masaki to help her find her friend, Enami, from the academy. He tells her that his mother can probably help as she had been working for the academy for a long time.

The principal and some "inner circle" students from the academy are traveling for an exchange event of some kind, but their plane is delayed because of thick fog (btw the fog is an element that is constantly brought up throughout the volume). A few of the students sneak away to a nearby movie theater to kill some time. The way the students talk raises a lot of questions. They seem to be special students, they've never been to the movies, never ridden the train, call their phones "communication terminals," and seem to seldom leave the academy.

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***SPOILERS FOR THE TWIST AT THE END OF VOLUME ONE***

Ichi and Masaki happen to be meeting up at the same movie theater the students go to. One of the students drops her "communication terminal" on a ledge and tries to reach for it, almost falling over the railing in the process. Ichi grabs her and pulls her back to safety and Masaki retrieves the device for the girl. While handing it to Ichi, a voice from the phone says, "Facial recognition confirmed, device unlocked... Greetings, Isahaya Ichi." At that moment Ichi looks at the girl who takes off her face mask to reveal that the girl looks exactly like Ichi but younger, and has the same name but spelled with different kanji characters.

And the volume ends there.

In volume two we spend time with student Ichi and see adult Ichi and Masaki try to figure out what the heck is going on, as well as some adult Ichi flashbacks to her academy days with Enami. I'm super glad that the two Ichis each have their own personalities. While they might look exactly alike, they very much feel like different people.

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***END OF SPOILERS FOR VOLUME ONE***

From the very first page and throughout the story, there are multiple instances of misogyny, sexism, harassment, etc. that women are not strangers to. I'm sure a lot of women can relate, but for those of you who don't, I still would recommend you read this. If you don't relate, to you I say, "Empathy is sexy."

Seeing other perspectives, learning from them, and trying to understand people is very attractive guys. It's science, I don't make the rules. That's why Masaki is best boy. Be like Masaki.

Ichi is hitting her breaking point, exasperated with all the bullshit she, and others, have had to deal with for being women. Multiple times, she says あたしたち "we/us (women)" when she's faced with yet more bullshit, expressing her exhaustion and anger at all the hurdles women face.

I have some theories about how these themes play into the plot but I'll hold off because of spoilers.

This manga has sci-fi elements that are slowly revealed to us. At first, everything seems rather normal and mundane. But once we do get bits of info and clues, you quickly notice something weird is going on. And the reveal at the end of volume one really doubles down on that feeling. I really enjoyed how things were slowly unveiled.

Our main duo, Ichi and Masaki, both have strong personalities, and their interactions are highly entertaining.

Masaki and I are kindred spirits.

Ichi is professional, but you can tell she's seething inside when she has to deal with harassment. Outside of work, she's got more of an edge and can be quite curt, but all in polite Japanese of course lolll. Masaki is just... hilarious. Everything he does has me going like, "omg that's me." Every scene he's in is a good time while simultaneously being torture for Ichi. The two have a fun dynamic, bickering while somehow clicking at times as a team.

Read it for Ichi and Masaki, they're great.

I'm interested to see what Gene Bride does with its themes. I can already tell some messed up stuff is probably happening, but I just have so many questions. Along with the intriguing plot and mystery, we have characters with distinct personalities and lovable, humorous moments throughout! Please license this...

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If there's any Japanese-only manga you want me to check out, let me know! No promises, I'll only read what I'm interested in, but I'll take suggestions into consideration. Preferably, shorter manga or newer manga with a few volumes out since I like to take breaks from longer series I'm reading :)

[whereareroo]

A NOBODY FROM SWEDEN

WF THOUGHTS (9/18/23).

Once upon a time in New York City, a few minutes after midnight on April 1, 1953, a sleeping diplomat was awakened by a phone call from a journalist and told that he had just been nominated to be the Secretary-General of the United Nations. Believing that the call was an April Fool’s joke, the diplomat hung up the phone and went back to sleep.

A good story needs an intriguing opening paragraph. The two sentences set forth above are the start of a good story. It’s a true story.

I learned the story in 1982, when I was attending law school in New York City. I was doing some research on some obscure international law issues. Thankfully, there were folks at the United Nations who were experts on these issues. Because I wanted my research to be perfect, I arranged to interview the experts. Over a period of months, I met with the various experts at their offices at the headquarters of the United Nations.

To get to the United Nations, I had to walk through a park called Dag Hammarskjold Plaza. It’s right next to the United Nations. After a few visits, I decided that I’d better learn something about the strange name for the park. That’s how I learned about the 1953 phone call and the subsequent events.

The man who received the midnight call was a Swedish diplomat named Dag Hammarskjold. He honestly believed that the call was a joke. At the United Nations, the top boss is called the Secretary-General. Hammarskjold was a nobody. He was a low level diplomat at the United Nations. By the time he was awakened for the third time, Dag figured that he better stay awake and find out what was happening.

In the aftermath of WWII, the UN started its operations in 1945. Originally, it didn’t have an official headquarters. The permanent headquarters in New York City didn’t open until 1952. From 1945 until 1952, the Secretary-General was a diplomat from Norway.

Late in 1952, the Norwegian announced his retirement. Who would be the next Secretary-General? That was a hotly debated issue for the next few months. Nobody thought that it was going to be Dag Hammarskjold.

The United Nations is a very political organization. Its nominating committee works in total secrecy. For months the committee considered, and secretly rejected, a series of candidates. As midnight approached on March 31st, the committee settled upon Dag Hammarskjold. He was acceptable because he was so unknown. Nobody had any reason to object to his nomination. When his name was first thrown into the ring, the officials from the U.S. had never even heard of him.

Because of the secrecy and his obscurity, Dag never knew that he was being considered for the top job. He was totally surprised by the phone calls that he received during the very early morning hours of April 1, 1953. By sunrise he was convinced that the calls weren’t a joke and that he was going to be the second Secretary-General of the United Nations.

Dag stayed in the top job until September of 1961. He built the UN, which was still in its infancy when he took the helm, into a serious and powerful international organization. Many say that he was the most important U.N. Secretary-General in history. He was particularly focused on maintaining world peace. Now you know why the park near the U.N. is named for Dag Hammarskjold.

This week, world leaders are meeting at the U.N. for the big General Assembly meeting. Today- -September 18th- -is also very important for another reason. On this day in 1961, under suspicious circumstances, Dag Hammarskjold died in a plane crash. He was on his way to the Congo to negotiate the settlement of an armed conflict. Many think that Dag’s plane was shot down by his enemies. There’s always somebody who is opposed to peace. Later in 1961, Dag Hammarskjold was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his outstanding work at the U.N. and his many contributions towards wold peace. He is the only person to ever receive the Peace Prize posthumously.

If you ever think that you’re a small person who can’t make a difference in the world, think about Dag Hammarskjold. It’s easy to remember his name. The nobody from Sweden made the world a better place. RIP, Dag Hammarskjold.