#work with so he’s improving much more quickly than kevin

[amethystroselily]

You know what, Kevin seeming to not have a strong sense of morality makes complete sense with the whole recently escaped a cult he spent most of his childhood in thing. He probably doesn’t trust his own morals, and like… would you? In the nest he was expecting to let Riko do whatever even if he knew it was wrong. Anytime he wanted to be nice he had to do it secretly. Then he leaves and he’s seen as extremely callous, but also he spends all his time with the foxes most of whom are very maladjusted, so the lines are terribly blurred. Like yeah ok, the monsters drug people sometimes but hey it’s apparently for their own good and it has nothing on the shit Riko used to do, so not his problem. The foxes beat each other up bc apparently that’s still fine? Whatever he’s staying out of it unless it directly involves him. Andrew chokes him and it was bad enough that he was stopped but also people were still mostly on Andrew’s side for that? Moving on I guess. Like it’s going to take forever to get a solid grasp on what is and isn’t ok in that situation. I think that’s why he defaults to outwardly worrying about exy in stressful situations (Seth’s death, the drake incident, etc.), because at least that’s something he’s sure about.

[coraniaid]

I don't think there should be a Buffy the Vampire Slayer reboot and I don't have any reason to believe there is going to be a Buffy the Vampire Slayer reboot and I would not watch a Buffy the Vampire Slayer reboot.

But, that said, if there were to be a Buffy reboot I think a big (small) change that would improve the show a lot (especially in its first season) would be to have a much broader pool of recurring student characters from the very beginning.  Not just the Scooby Gang and Cordelia, but ideally almost all the students we see in the first season should appear in multiple episodes and, if they die, they should be talked about at least once afterwards.  As it is, Season 1 is full of ghosts: characters like Amy and Harmony who will go on to be somewhat recurring but aren't quite there yet, and characters like Jesse and Cordelia's boyfriend Kevin (remember him?) who only exist to die and are not mentioned before or after. Most of the show's recurring minor student characters will only be introduced in Season 2.

In particular, I think the characters most ill-served by this in canon are, in order of first (and often only) appearance:

Jesse

I actually think the concept of Jesse – as a sympathetic character who is killed in the opening episodes before we really get to know him – is a good one.  Beyond any possible shock value of his death, it's a useful way of establishing that people can and will die in this story, and of stating out loud the setting's rules for vampires ("you're not looking at your friend, you're looking at the thing that killed him").  On the other hand, the execution is pretty awful because it is immediately clear that Jesse is not the same status of character as Willow and Xander (he isn’t even in the opening credits), he is not actually sympathetic at all (he seems to exist to answer the question "what if Xander Harris but Worse?"), and large parts of the fandom (and later writers of the show itself) will decide to completely ignore what the show is telling them about how vampires as a concept on Buffy work and why Buffy is not only justified but morally obliged to Slay them.

But the most egregious thing about Jesse is, of course, that after his death in The Harvest he is never talked about again.  I honestly think that just a couple of lines of dialogue spread out over Season 1 (Buffy blaming herself for Jesse's death while worrying whether she’s making a positive difference as a Slayer, say, or Xander mentioning Jesse as a reason for disliking vampires, or Jesse being named as one of several mysteriously missing students by Principal Flutie) would go a really long way to fixing that.  

A brief cameo appearance in Nightmares wouldn't have hurt either.  (Just months ago Xander failed to save his best friend from vampires and was taunted by the demon wearing his corpse and had to watch him turn to dust in front of his eyes, so of course he’s terrified of … clowns.  OK.)

Amy

OK, for real, if I were in charge of creating a Buffy reboot I would be very tempted to just add Amy to the Gang after Witch.  She knows that magic is real!  She knows Buffy knows magic is real!  She seems to be on friendly terms with both Buffy and Willow when the episode ends! And yet she vanishes after her first appearance more quickly than Marcie Ross.  

But, failing that, having Amy show up more than once a year in the high school seasons would be a start (especially since the show implies so much is happening to her behind the scenes each year).  Let her be a friend of Buffy's who doesn't know anything about Buffy being the Slayer.  Have Willow at least think about asking her for help with Angel’s soul curse!  Pull the trick the writers used in The Wish (and never used again) of having Willow talk about her as if they're friends even in episodes she's not appearing in.  Show us Willow spending time with her rather than Buffy during Dead Man's Party!  Remember that this character exists even when she’s not on screen!

Lance (and his various bullies) from The Pack

Hapless victim Lance is basically a proto-Jonathan and, if I were remaking the show, I would just lean into that fully and simply replace him with Jonathan from the very beginning.  

It would be tempting to do the same thing with Kyle and Heidi and the others, too: rather than retroactively introduce multiple new characters who apparently used to bully Xander in Seasons 2 and 3 that we’ve never met before and never will again (how big is Sunnydale High meant to be?).  

The obvious problem with that is that the show tells us that the Pack remember eating Principal Flutie alive, which means rather than hanging out in school giving Xander and Willow a hard time when the plot requires it they should probably all be in therapy for years.  But you can fix that while fixing The Pack as an episode by just ... not having the fact Xander not only remembers assaulting Buffy but lies about it to her face presented to us as a punchline?  Have Xander forget what happened to him. Have them all forget what happened when they were possessed, and then Kyle and Heidi and the others can be conflated with Inca Mummy Girl's Rodney and School Hard's Sheila as and when required.

Owen

This requires slightly more work, but I think Owen and Scott work better if they're the same character too.  Rather than Owen promising to stay friends with Buffy and then never appearing or being mentioned again, or Willow telling Buffy she "wasn't ready" to date Scott before Season 3 as if he even existed then, just make Scott somebody that we've already met and who Buffy had previously briefly dated pre-Angel.

The challenge here is that Buffy breaks up with Owen because she doesn’t want to get him hurt and she’s still very focussed on keeping her identity as the Slayer secret and only letting a handful of people know.

But that fits into the wider theme of Season 3 perfectly.  By this point, Buffy’s let far more people know than just Willow and Xander.  Xander’s girlfriend Cordelia knows, and Willow’s boyfriend Oz knows, and Buffy’s own mother knows, and none of this has caused the world to end.  Why shouldn’t Buffy try dating a normal guy who knows she’s the Slayer?

(And I think everything about Scott works better if he’s somebody we’ve seen before – somebody we’ve seen Buffy be romantically interested in before – rather than suddenly appearing only to disappear almost as quickly. Scott is meant to represent Buffy trying to reassert her claim to a 'normal' life after everything that happened with Angel last year..  What better way to do that than to try to start things over with the one person we do see her trying to date on the show before Angel? How much harder would Scott's rejection of Buffy hit if we'd seen that the pre-Angelus version of Buffy really did get on well with him and would have expected to make things work?)

Kevin

The end of Season 1 features, back-to-back, two of its best episodes.  In Out of Mind Out of Sight, we focus on Cordelia Chase.  We're reintroduced to Cordelia's friend Harmony and we meet Cordelia's current boyfriend, Mitch.  (Who is attacked by Marice Ross, but survives.)  In Prophecy Girl Cordelia briefly bonds with Willow while talking about how much she likes her current boyfriend, Kevin, only for the two of them to discover him dead, killed by vampires on school grounds.

Wouldn't the death in the latter episode work much better if those two "current boyfriends" were the same person?  Wouldn't we care more about Kevin's death if he was somebody we'd actually met before? 

But let’s go further than that: at the start of Season 2, in Some Assembly Required, we meet Chris, whose brother used to date Cordelia but tragically died. Chris tries to bring him back, and his brother pursues Cordelia.  The show doesn’t mention – or doesn’t remember – that Cordelia already has a tragically dead ex-boyfriend, one who died only two episodes ago.  Why not fix that?  Why not identify Chris’s brother Darryl with Kevin as well?

Make Mitch/Kevin/Darryl a single character, and then we would achieve that rarest of sights on Buffy: a minor character who we meet an episode before they die and who is mentioned again in an episode after they died.

And wouldn’t that almost make a potential Buffy reboot palatable?

[elisysd]

5. We'll talk, then we'll cry, then we'll laugh 'til we're done

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Chapter soundtrack: TRUSTFALL - P!nk

Behind a Haas. Never in his career would he have ever thought he would end up behind a Haas. Not that he thought it was a bad team, he truly thought that both Kevin and Nico were fighting the best they could with the car they had. But struggling this much, in a car that was supposed to fight for wins, against one that was the worst of the grid hurt. It wounded his ego and the questions he had already answered hadn’t helped to ease the blow. So, seeing you, adjusting something on your microphone as you were talking quickly with a Spanish journalist, made him sigh. He was dreading your questions as usual but, a part of him was hoping that the chat you had a few days ago and your confessions had improved your relationship. He hoped that it changed something. He hoped he hadn’t been the only one to feel it. As he walked to you, he first noticed your apologetic and empathetic smile. 

“What a weekend for you Charles. Could you tell us more about what happened?”

“I don’t know, really. I feel like I’m repeating myself each weekend but… we have to truly sit and talk about the car and what we can do to improve because we can’t keep going like that. I had no feeling with the car, I was struggling in each corner. Truly one of the most painful races in my career.”

“Do you have any hopes for the situation to improve?”

“Thankfully, Fred already managed to build up a strong team spirit. We can all talk freely, that’s something that was seriously lacking before, so I trust Fred. We will bounce back and come back stronger.”

“Thank you, Charles.”

Getting out of the media pen, he was in a better mood than when he got in. It had felt nice to talk with you, even briefly and if Silvia had not pushed him to leave, he would have stayed. Your gentle smile had calmed him down. He shook his head, suddenly feeling very stupid. Now was not the time to start to develop a crush on you. He would only make a fool of himself, knowing perfectly that you would never reciprocate whatever feelings he could have. He breathed in and breathed out the hot hair of Florida before Silvia told him that he had to hurry to not be late for the meeting. He couldn’t wait to get inside, at least there would be AC. But he wasn’t excited for the meeting ahead. He knew it would be a long one. Fighting with a Haas was not supposed to happen in any way, shape or form. 

You were coming out of your post race debrief as the air felt cooler on your skin. You were tired. It had been a very stressful weekend between the race preparation and your nerve wracking interview with Charles. It had left you emotionally empty. Luc was a tough subject. One you hated talking about. You hadn’t much if you were honest. You had kept it bottled out inside of you, hoping that by not mentioning it, it would be easier to let yourself heal. It was stupid. And you were only seeing it now. You hadn’t been fair to Charles. He didn’t deserve it. And still, he had not judged you when you had explained what had happened to Luc. It felt good. But quickly, you felt scared. By talking about your grief, you felt a little lighter as if it was freeing you. But you didn’t want to be free. You didn’t deserve it. You wanted to keep Luc’s memory alive within yourself. You didn’t want to let go. You didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want to forget him. And talking to Charles felt like it. You shook your head, trying to get a grip and decided to wander the paddock, fishing for information. That was what you loved to do. It was quite easy, you were just walking from one end of the paddock to the other, trying to see if people were available for a little chat. You were doing that a few times. That was kind of like your working out routine on race weekend. It was how you would get little insides from the teams, new and useful information.  

Though, you were a bit hungry. You hadn’t had the occasion to eat lately, busy with everything that was happening around you. A few biscuits here and there had made their way to your stomach but that was all. You could feel a migraine coming and with the sun still high in the sky and the air still hot overall, your visions start to blur. You barely had time to lean against a motorhome wall when you felt two strong hands grabbing your shoulders and a voice that was feeling so far away from your ears. You felt yourself being forced to sit down on the ground as the voice screamed for water. You felt the tip of the bottle against your lips as the fresh liquid was being poured into your throat. It didn’t take long before you started to feel better and that’s when you saw a red cap and two blue green eyes worryingly looking at you. 

“Nothing good ever comes out of Miami.” you mumbled sheepishly, feeling your cheeks redden. 

“That’s something I can agree with you.” the monegasque replied.

You tried to get up and stumbled. If it weren't for Charles' quick instincts, your face would have met the ground. His hands around your waist, your face close to his chest and his eyes intently looking at you made you feel suddenly very conscious of your surroundings. Trying to avoid his intense gaze on you, you tried to search for a diversion, anything that could break the intimacy of the moment. 

“Nice pants.” you ended up saying. 

“Yeah? One of my friends is a designer. He gifted them to me. They stand out, I wasn’t sure at first but…”

“It was sarcastic.” you cut him. 

“Oh.”

“You make questionable choices in every aspect of your life as it seems.”

“Come on, they are not that bad.” he defended himself.

“You’re right. They are worse.” you chuckled, making Charles do it as well. 

“I will blame the heat. You don’t know what you are saying.” he softly smiled. 

As you were about to leave him to go back to your hotel you felt him next to you. 

“Let me give you a ride. I would feel better knowing you made it home safely.”

“You don’t need to act like a knight in his shiny Ferrari, you know.”

“I would feel responsible if something was happening to you.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“A big girl who faints when there is a little sun outside.” he teased you.

“I don’t want people to see us together. I don’t want anyone to imagine that something is going on between us.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked. 

“No.”

“Well, you will have to because I’m not letting you walk away alone.”

You were about to reply when he took your hand in his and forced you to follow him.

“I promised I would show you that some people are decent human beings. This is me proving it to you. Accept it.”

Reaching the hotel, you still look awfully pale and you didn’t even try to argue when Charles told you he wouldn’t leave your side until he was sure you would be okay on your own. You found it stupid but you were so tired you didn’t send him away. It would have been useless anyway.

“You know,” you began arriving in front of your door, “ I can manage from there. I’m going to order room service, take a shower and work a little…”

“Not even in your wildest dreams. You won’t work after almost fainting. You are going to rest.”

You glared at him. Who was he to try patronizing you?

“I’m going to do whatever the hell I want after crossing this door. I don’t even know why you even think you can allow me to do stuff or not. You won’t be there to watch over me.” you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Do you want to test me?” he replied in the same tone as you. 

“What if I do?”

Quickly he snatched the card from your room, hanging loosely between your fingers and threw you over his shoulder as he unlocked the room and walked in. You didn’t even have the time to protest as you were already sitting on your bed as he poured a glass of water from your carafe. He didn’t even ask you before ordering two burgers with double portions of fries for you from the phone. 

“You are truly something else, Leclerc.” 

“I know.”

“Very humble with that.” 

He laughed, making you roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. Understanding he wouldn’t go anywhere, you decided to still work on what you had planned. You took your laptop out of your bag and opened it on a blank document on which you typed Imola 2023. You prepared a few documents like the race recaps, the track history and started to write some notes and highlight the parts you deemed useful. You could hear Charles muffles and his breath down your neck as you turned around, your left hand closing your laptop. You both stared at each other, waiting for the other one to flinch and give up. 

“I said no work for you.” 

“You’re not my boss.” you replied. 

“I might not be him, but I’m sure Jean would be exhilarated to know that a member of his team fainted in the paddock because she doesn’t know how to take care of herself.”

“I didn’t faint.” you corrected him, gritting your teeth together. 

“Thanks to me. Listen, there is a little break before Imola, you can rest. You don’t have to work right now.”

“I feel fine! And I want to prepare some stuff now. I have the weekend in mind, I’m in the mood to work and I surely didn’t ask for your opinion on that. You can leave, I’ve never asked you to stay.”

“Maybe you didn’t but I want to.” he argued. 

“You’re so annoying!”

“Great, so now you know what it feels like whenever I look at you!”

You hissed and turned your back at him. Maybe if you ignored him, he would leave you alone. As you opened your laptop again, it was closed almost immediately by his hand and you barely had time to process the situation that he took it away from you.

“That’s it! I’m calling the security!” 

You didn’t have time to do so as someone knocked at your door and as if he owned the room, Charles went to open it, said a few words that you could barely make out and came back, the trail of food in front of him. 

“I don’t want to fight…” he sighed. “Let’s make peace around two very greasy burgers.”

“Is that allowed in your diet?” you arched an eyebrow. 

“Will you release an article about me not following it properly?”

You shook your head in his direction. 

“Then we are good. And after this disastrous weekend, I think I deserve a treat.” he told you before taking a huge mouthful. A little bit more shyly than him, you did the same. 

Surprisingly, he was easy to talk to. You talk about many things, the sport's history and he tells you how much he loved Senna and how much he meant to him. He talked about his brothers, his friends and how one of his best friends was the dad to an adorable daughter whom he loved very much. He even was keen on showing you pictures of her. He talked about his life with such ease that it threw you off. He didn’t really know you but yet he trusted you with so many private parts of his life. He felt like an old friend, someone you had met in another life. You were not one to believe in soulmates but yet, he could make you change your mind. Maybe in a past life you were friends. Maybe in a past life you wouldn’t have made all the mistakes you made in this one. Maybe in another life, you had a family. 

You started to feel emotional and he noticed it. 

“Anyway… what about you?”

“What about me?” you repeated. 

“Tell me something about you.”

You sighed. You were much more at ease with making people talk about themselves than you were with talking about your life. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Why is your job that important to you? To the point that you don’t even want to be my friend…”

You gulped, fidgeting with your napkin. 

“That's all I have left. My parents don’t talk to me, my best friend has her own life, I travel most of the time, you know how it is. My job is the only constant in my life, the one thing that truly makes me happy. I’m alone. And it’s fine. I’m not saying that for you to pity me. I made peace with it. I’m alone, it’s a fact.”

“Having a good support system is so important for me, it helps me, it grounds me. I’m sorry you don’t have that.”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine, you know.” you smiled. 

He scooted closer to you, snatching fries on your plate making you whine in protest.

“So, you studied journalism.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

“How was it?”

“Fun. Tiring. I spent a year in New York to study there. I used to cover the Yankees’ games and the Knicks’. It’s fun how it had nothing to do with F1. I was supposed to meet an old friend there in the next few days.”

“No way!” Charles laughed. “That’s a funny coincidence, I’m going to New York for a few days as well and I’m invited to the Yankees’ game!”

It made you laugh as well involuntarily. That’s too big of a coincidence for you to keep your poker face. It seemed life had decided to play you by throwing Charles in every aspect of your life. 

“I didn’t take you for a baseball fan.”

“I’m not. But I like to discover new things. It will be fun, I’m taking my brothers with me.”

“I could teach you a thing or two about the sport if you’d like.”

You didn’t know why you said that and from the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting it either. There was silence. Uncomfortable. You checked the time and stood up, almost running to your suitcase, pretending to look for something as you’re unable to look him in the eyes. 

“It’s… it’s late and I have an early flight tomorrow. Not that I’m forcing you to leave but…” you stuttered. 

“You need to sleep. It’s okay, I understand and you’re right it’s late.”

You could see in his eyes that you hurt him. You didn’t mean to, of course, deep down you truly appreciated what he had done for you today. He cared and it had been such a long time since someone cared for you that you didn’t know how to take it. You closed your eyes and breathed in before getting up and looking at him. 

“Thank you. For today. I haven’t told you and I’m feeling so ungrateful when you went out of your way to make sure I was okay. I haven’t been the nicest and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a good guy. Maybe you were right, there are still decent men out there.”

He smiled at you and took a step towards you, putting a hand on your shoulder. That was the first time he had ever been that close to you, willingly. No accident, no fainting, just a calm and steady comforting hand on your skin. You shivered and felt your cheeks getting hot. If he noticed it, he didn’t comment on it. 

“Maybe you don’t want to be my friend but I want you to be mine. And I’m always there for my friends. Whether they like it or not.” he chuckled. 

“Why?” you whispered. 

“Because you look like you need one. And I like lost causes. I’m a Ferrari driver after all.”

That time you laughed. A real, big and loud laugh. It made him smile wide. You shook your head, punching him lightly on his chest. You went with him to your door and as you opened it, you both jumped noticing Marion in front of you. She was as surprised as you were. Her eyes darted between Charles and you, making you both uncomfortable. You could already guess what was going inside her mind. Charles sent you an apologetic look and avoided Marion as he left you alone. 

“Marion, I swear it’s not what you might think it is.” you rushed to explain. 

“Y/N. I don’t care. I really don’t. I won’t judge. I know how tempting it can be, just be careful. If you want to play with fire, you will get burned. These guys are pure gasoline on dry wood under a heatwave. One small ray of sun on it and it’s wildfire spreading for weeks.”

“You don’t have to worry. Nothing happened, nothing is happening and nothing will ever happen between Charles and I.” you stated. 

But for an unknown reason, you had a hard time believing in your words. 

Author's note: It's progressing. Slowly. But don't worry, they will get there. For now, I really do enjoy writing their banters.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13

If you are tagged and do not receive the notifications, please take a look at your parameters!

[kotls-unveiled]

Chapter 2: I Temporarily Become a Ben 10 fan

I waited out the rain in another alleyway. After a few minutes of pouring rain, the skies returned to a pristine blue, a few white clouds floating happily along. The entire city seemed warmer now, touched by the rays of the sun. Human weather was weird. In the Lost Cities, it was the optimal temperature everywhere, all the time.

This time, after learning from my “ask around for a telepathic girl” experiment, I decided that perhaps informing humans that there’s a whole other species, similar to humans but better, who have been hiding in secret would probably be a bad idea. I needed another tactic, and fast.

I decided that scouring the busy streets of London was probably not the best idea, and that moving to a different location was probably the best one. I wandered on, and found myself in Holland Park. Even though it was much more crowded than the Lost Cities, it was an improvement from the main streets of the city. I relaxed my shoulders, glad to be away from from the bustling city noise. I even found a few kids my age, laughing with each other while tired parents found solace on the park benches.

“You have to be Kevin and I’ll be Ben,” a girl about my age said, adorning a shirt that said Ben 10 in white, black and green.

“No fair!” complained a boy, folding his arms and managing a pout that made his entire bottom lip stick out. “You always get to be Ben.”

“That’s because you started watching Ben 10 only after I told you to!” hissed the girl, and two proceeded to fall into an imaginary world. I chuckled to myself. Human kids and their make believe.

Wait. I gasped softly. Make believe! If I could convince one of them to play “mind reading” with me, it might reveal if one of them was the girl. I grinned like an idiot. If any ridiculous plan plan was to work, it would be this one.

I marched up to the group of five-year-olds, wearing my goofiest grin and most human expression. They seemed immersed in the world of Ben 10, whatever that was. But I was a five-year-old with a mission, so I greeted them.

“Hi!” I greeted, waving at them. They stared at me, bug eyed. I panicked, momentarily. Was this not how human children communicated? Did they use a more casual greeting? What greeting was more casual than hi?

“Who are you?” the girl tilted her head forward, eyeing me suspiciously. She had a face full of freckles and frizzy blonde hair tied back in two braids that reached her shoulders. “I don’t know you. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“I just want to play make believe,” I shrugged. The girl and boy looked to each other, as if their quick glance was a conversation. When the girl turned to me, she smiled.

“We love make believe!” She grinned. “I’m Ben, and Jordan is Kevin, so you should be Gwen.”

I didn’t know what a Ben or Kevin or Gwen was, so I shook my head. “I have another idea for a game.”

“But I love Ben 10,” she frowned. Jordan also frowned, but he just looked confused.

“This is a fun game,” I added quickly. “We all pretend to be mind readers.” She paused, as if she was waiting for me to continue, so I did. “I’ll think of something, and you can tell me what I’m thinking.”

I conjured up an image of a duck in my head, floating peacefully on the water, quacking with all its duck friends. The sky was pretty and the grass was green and they were happy and-

“You’re thinking of… doughnuts,” she squealed. As if the word was part of a secret language, Jordan started squealing too. But I sighed defeatedly. Either she was refusing to read my mind or she couldn’t do it, and I had a feeling it was the former.

“Nope.” I shook my head. She frowned.

“You’re not very good at make believe,” she pouted. “And you have weird eyes.”

My hand instinctively reached to touch my eyelids, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with them. “My eyes are perfectly normal.”

“They’re teal,” the girl said, peering at them curiously. “No one has teal eyes.”

I looked around, and sure enough, no one around me had teal eyes. In fact, everyone’s eyes were generally dimmer. Mine stuck out like a sore thumb. The girl turned away from me and went right back to playing make believe with Jordan. As if on cue, the rain came to further dampen the mood. I looked down to the ground as I walked to the shade of a convenience store, hoping to miss the showers. When I walked inside, I felt heat envelope me like a blanket. Vaguely, I hear a heater working its hardest to keep people from shivering. But, much louder, I hear some popular radio hit blasting through the store speakers.

I walked through the store to find colourful chip packets and weird snacks that admittedly look a lot better than what we had in the Lost Cities. A couple packets stood out to me, their bright colours and white lettering catching my eye.

“Lays,” I muttered to myself. It didn’t seem to make much sense for a snack company to name themself after whatever this was supposed to be called, but I chalked it up to humans and their weirdness.

I took the chip packet in hand and walked up to my counter, which was annoyingly taller than I am. The tired teenager behind the counter eyed me for a moment, before shrugging.

“That’ll be three dollars forty,” he said, bored. I handed him the exact amount of cash and left the store. The sky had cleared up by now, and even though I wasn’t planning on going back to that girl and Jordan, I decided that Holland Park was my best bet.

Before I began searching, I decided to take a bite of my snack. Sure, my dad said to use the money only if I needed it… but I considered this a being-a-good-child tax. The one you get when you help your father on secret, illegal missions. So I bit into the chip and was very surprised, and mildly disappointed. It was tangy and extremely salty and there were crumbs on my hands but of course, it didn’t match up to the elven food I was used to. Regardless, I devoured the chips. I held the packet up to the bin to throw away but my hand lingers. Instead, I rolled it up as tightly as I could and shoved it in my bag. It could be a memento for my troubles in London. Right then, I made the decision to do the same where ever I went, because, as luck would have it, I would be in the Forbidden Cities for a long while.

—Luna

[kariachi]

Who wants some fanfiction based on Kevin not actually being a great example of what an Ossy is capable of? It's not a 'okay but these fuckers are terrifying' fic, but still.

Kevin is put in front of a grown, trained Osmosian.

~~

Cringing as he went flying across the room, the team tensed against the urge to go check Kevin was alright. Instructor Lonin called something across the space in Imperial, and Kevin snapped back a response with words they hadn’t realized before this visit were stilted at best. For all the time any of them had known him he had been the resident expert on Osmosians- it was difficult not to be when you were the only one around- but here, watching him pick himself up off the ground with sharp teeth bared, they were reminded of just how isolated from his people he’d been. The language he only spoke just well enough, songs and stories he half-remembered, rules of etiquette he barely knew better than them. How quickly he was overpowered when he threw himself forward again.

None of them were used to seeing someone outstrength him, so few managed, but Lonin made it look easy. Lashing out to clamp one hand around his arm, they yanked him down and to the side enough that grabbing his other limb let them twist it behind his back. In a heartbeat he was on the ground, one arm pinned painfully beneath and the other behind, a knee on his hip and teeth around his neck. Still snarling, Kevin struggled once, twice, before the teeth tightened and he finally went begrudgingly still.

Rook reached over to lay a hand over Gwendolyn’s, a silent reminder against her tension that he was in no real danger. That she had been the one to recommend that he should do more than just visit the homeworld but try to learn. At her other side, Ben watched with interest that could only come from someone who had had to fight the species before and worried he would again.

For what felt like an age the pair stayed on the floor, Kevin glaring back as best he could as Lonin growled low. Slowly, once they were sure he wouldn’t continue fighting, they removed their knee. Released the arm pinned beneath his body. The one behind his back. Only after all that did they open their jaw and pull away.

Deftly dodge the elbow he threw back.

Grabbing hold, they cast him to the floor again. This time landing on his side, he only had a moment to twist and try to bite before they’d used his arm to pin his head to the floor, straddling his legs to keep them still. Kevin managed to get his free palm solid against the stone floor a moment before Lonin did. For a heartbeat it looked like he might gain enough strength to throw the older Osmosian off, but only succeeded in jostling the both of them before they also had a full mass. Still he railed against them, fighting enough to test their grip in the seconds before they encased his body in stone.

There was no careful slowness as they stood this time, just ease and the same impassive expression they’d worn for the past half hour at least.

“You really haven’t gotten any kind of training,” they said in a tone that edged towards disappointment. Pinned from knee to shoulder, Kevin glared up at them.

“Not exactly a lot of Ossys in my part of space,” he said.

“It shows.” They huffed, grumbling something in Imperial as they circled Kevin. For far from the first time the rest of the team regretted taking moments like this to try to improve their Galactic Standard. “Have you had any sort of proper practice?”

“I do use my powers,” Kevin grumbled, fidgeting as much as he was able. “Been mostly absorbing and manipulating solids for… a long time. I’m pretty good shapeshifting with them, and-” He threw a quick glance to the others, took a breath. “-I’m damn good at shapeshifting with copied DNA.” Lonin made a thoughtful sound.

“I suppose you would get a lot to work with, running with The Great Ben 10,” they said in a tone that implied they weren’t all that impressed with the hero. “If you’re a good shapeshifter, you won’t have any trouble freeing yourself then.” As simple as that they turned and walked away, taking a seat within Kevin’s view but a good distance to the side.

Again the team shared a look. A silent question whether they should intervene. The entire reason they had come along was to act as emotional support- for all he’d tried to hide it Kevin had been nervous to spar with another adult Ossy- but now they didn’t know what to do. They didn’t know if this was a normal Osmosian thing, or even a reasonable request. It certainly didn’t seem like one.

Still, for all their concern, Kevin merely took a deep breath and began shifting his shape again. Everyone watched as, with the tentative slowness of someone unpracticed in a specific act, he stretched out his arm. The team all but held their breath as it stretched farther and thinner, followed by shoulders, his other arm working its way free. He was able to get a grip on the distant floor, and used it to slowly drag his lengthened body out of it’s prison. Everything seemed to contract back into the proper shape as he did. Once everything was in its proper place, he rolled his joints with a deep sigh. Lonin made a purring, trilling noise at him.

“Not a bad job, for someone who didn’t grow up in the tunnels,” they said. Kevin’s cheeks took on color as he glowered at them. “So, you can do basic shapeshifting.”

“With solids,” he clarified. “With DNA I can do partial, full, and combined shifting.”

“And just how much practice do you actually have there?” Fidgeting again, Kevin threw another glance to his team, who tried to give him encouraging smiles. They didn’t seem to help.

“I’ve got access to at least thirty-four sapients, two non-sapients, and I don’t know how many plants. I don’t like using them if I don’t have to, but I can.”

Lonin froze, staring at him with wide eyes and dipped chin. They muttered, almost growled, something under their breath in Imperial.

“Alright,” they eventually said, just before things got too awkward, “let’s move right passed that for now, then.” A weight seemed to come off Kevin’s shoulders. “What about other forms of matter?”

And fell right back on.

“I’ve done demi-solids, twice,” Kevin said with some uncertainty, “and I haven’t touched liquids or gases.”

“Good,” Lonin said. “I still hardly touch gases if I don’t have to. Liquids are easier though, as long as you have a proper teacher.” Kevin nodded.

“Supposedly my dam was better with liquids than anything else, but…” He shrugged.

“They can be dangerous to learn, avoiding testing them was smart.” Head just barely tilting, Lonin threw what was almost a glance towards the rest of the team. “And what about energy?” Everyone tensed.

“He avoids it,” Gwendolyn answered before Kevin even got the chance, earning a sharp look from Lonin. Only once she’d sunk back in her seat did they turn back.

“Got addiction issues,” Kevin said, tense as a bowstring, “and I tend to get, nasty, when I’ve absorbed a lot of it.” With a curious noise, Lonin blinked.

“Are you prone to overload then?” Kevin blinked. Threw a look at the others. They all shrugged. More often than not he knew more than them about these things.

“Maybe?” Lonin rumbled.

“Do you become more violent when you absorb energy, or when you absorb large amounts of energy?” For a long moment the youngsters were quiet, Kevin chewing his lip as he considered the question.

“Both? I’m nasty when I’ve been absorbing energy, but I get worse the more I do.”

“Alright then.” They gave another purring trill. “Energy overload isn’t an uncommon problem, and there are plenty of ways to work around it and addiction both, but again it’s smart of you to avoid energy without someone to teach you such techniques.” Kevin let loose a breath as the team looked between themselves again. The concept that using energy safely was an option hadn’t occurred to anybody. Not with Kevin’s history, and not after Aggregor.

“So, I’m not doing too bad then,” he said with a little half smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes. Lonin made a noncommittal noise.

“Your solid matter usage is far behind others your age” they said, “you have no training with energy, no experience with liquids at all. You’ve clearly seen combat, but have no idea how to properly use your powers in it. I taught soldiers for two-hundred years and if I had ever been sent an apprentice in such a state, I’d have fought both their Clanhead and Packhead personally.” The smile slipping from his face, Kevin clenched his fists, dipping his head and flashing a glimpse of teeth.

“So…”

With an ease that belied their age, Lonin stood back up, dropping the stone they’d absorbed. They looked Kevin over, flexed their fingers, and made the purring trill again.

“You have until this time tomorrow to decide if you want to learn, and if you do, I suggest finding long-term quarters.” As Kevin relaxed minutely and Gwendolyn chewed her lip, Lonin spared him what almost looked like an approving expression. “You have a lot of catching up to do.”

[24worldnewsnet]

hester CityCharlotte CoatesBBC Sport journalistShamoon HafezBBC Sport football news reporter2 hours ago672 CommentsManchester City have confirmed the signing of AC Milan midfielder Tijjani Reijnders for an initial fee of £46.5m on a five-year contract.The Netherlands international is Pep Guardiola's fourth summer signing with Rayan Ait-Nouri, Marcus Bettinelli and Rayan Cherki having also joined.Reijnders, 26, was signed in time to be eligible for this month's Club World Cup in America and could make his debut on 18 June against Wydad FC."I am ecstatic to be signing for Manchester City," Reijnders said. "City are one of the biggest teams in the world, with the best coach, world-class players and outstanding facilities. "Under Pep Guardiola, City have won so many titles and I want to help keep that going with a lot more success in the coming years."The midfielder has been capped 23 times by the Netherlands but was left on the bench during Tuesday night's 8-0 thrashing of Malta.He scored 15 goals in 54 matches across all competitions for Milan last term and was named Serie A's midfielder of the season.With Kevin de Bruyne departing the club, Reijnders will strengthen the centre of the pitch for Guardiola as they look to improve on their third-placed Premier League finish last season.City boost squad for Club World CupA question being asked in the lead up to the Club World Cup was how seriously teams would be taking the expanded competition.Manchester City have emphatically answered that question by moving quickly to bolster a wounded squad that will now hope to go far in the competition in the United States.With De Bruyne departing and a hole left in attacking midfield, City were eyeing up Bayer Leverkusen's Florian Wirtz but decided not to pursue a deal.Instead, they have boosted the side with the signings of midfielder Reijnders and Cherki and left-back Ait-Nouri for a total of around £108m, which is less than the reported 150m Euros (£127m) asking price for the Germany international.All three, plus new goalkeeper Bettinelli, are available for selection for the Club World Cup with City facing Moroccan side Wydad AC in Philadelphia first on 18 June.'He will love working with Guardiola'Reijnders joins City in a period which feels like a revolution rather than a renewal, and one that may require a revolving door at the Etihad over the next few months.Attacking midfielder Cherki has already joined, while midfielders Kalvin Phillips, James McAtee and Jack Grealish have all been tipped to leave the club, along with defender Kyle Walker who spent the latter part of last season out on loan.The squad also includes Ederson, Stefan Ortega, Nathan Ake and John Stones, whose futures have also been the topic of much media speculation.Finding the right time to replace ageing stars like Ilkay Gundogan, Bernardo Silva and the injured Mateo Kovacic in City's midfield will also surely be in Guardiola's thinking.Despite the £50m acquisition of Nico Gonzalez in February, the lack of running power and physicality in City's engine room was exposed last season as they failed to win a major trophy for the first time in eight years.Reijnders, who turns 27 in July, is viewed as the man to help alter that dynamic.A powerful box-to-box midfielder, Reijnders ended last season with 10 goals and four assists in Serie A, with only one player in his position, Napoli's Scott McTominay (16), having more goal involvements.His performances were also considered one of the few positives in a disappointing season for Milan, who finished eighth in Serie A and missed out on European qualification.Reijnders was ranked ninth for forward passes in Italy's top flight last term and was fifth for through balls and carrying the ball.He also ranked seventh overall for carries of more than 10m in Serie A last season but more significantly, Reijnders, who joined AC Milan for around £21m in 2023, is capable of doing so all over the pitch, an asset that could be crucial in Guardiola's transitional play.He

[blowflyfag]

Pro Wrestling Illustrated: March 2024

A QUICK WORD WITH… MARIAH MAY 

Text By Kevin McElvaney

Photos By Octopus Stretch Photography

ON DECEMBER 29, 2022, at Stardom Dream Queendom 2, Cosmic Angels expat Mina Shirakawa introduced the world to Club Venus. Originally consisting of Shirakawa, Xia Brookside, and Mariah May, the glamorous group made its debut in the inaugural TRiangle Derby trios torment. With a membership that swelled to include Australian grappler Xena, former NXT talent Jessie (Elaban/Kamea), and another ex-Cosmic Angel in Waka Tsukiyama, Club Venus quickly became a favorite of international Stardom fans. And that was due in no small part to the efforts of one of its charter members. 

Fashionable, charismatic, and athletic, Mariah May had all the making of a top star. May put in the hard work from the very start of her Japanese excursion, developing a notable chemistry with partners and opponents alike. Stardom’s competitive touring environs compelled the Tottenham, England-born wrestler to develop in-ring skills to rival those of her peer. And, in a massive vote of confidence, May was given the name “Foreign Ace” by no less than Stardom Executive Producer Rossy Ogawa.

With Shirakawa, May formed the impressie tag team Rose Gold, which reigned as Goddesses of Stardom champions for six weeks last summer. Her performance with the Club Venus unit in the 5STAR Grand Prix round robin tourney grabbed the attention of promoters worldwide. Indeed, after her Stardom contract expired in the fall, rumors circulated that May had inked a contract with All Elite Wrestling in the U.S. 

In mid-October, during a well-earned period of downtime, Mariah May checked in from her home country to chat with PWI Editor-in-Chief Kevin McElvaney about what she’s learned from her nine-month stint in Japan, the current U.K. grappling scene, and what she might be up to in the future.

McELVANEY: Your Stardom run has put you in the brightest spotlight of your career and earned you the moniker  “Foreign Ace.” Why do you think you connected so well with the fans of that promotion? MAY: I believe the reason I connected so well with the fans is because I love Stardom as much as they do. I’ve always held the belief the best training and performance for women’s wrestling is found in Japan. I think my passion, improvement, and dedication in moving across the world gave me their respect (And Ogawa-san’s when he named me the “Foreign Ace”). I know a lot of fans were happy to see how much fun I was having, too. I want my work to tell stories and make people feel something, and Stardom afforded me so many chances to do that.

McELVANEY: What did your 2023 excursion to Japan teach you? How did your craft improve?

[Mariah May holds out hope for a reunion with Rose Gold partner Mina Shirakawa, with whom she held the Goddesses of Stardom championship (left). A more surprising item on May’s wishlist: Facing Prominence’s Risa Sera (below, Bleeding profusely) in a deathmatch.]

MAY: My excursion in Japan taught me how important it is to take risks. Within a few days of being in Japan, I was offered to extend my tour, and I said I would stay there as long as they would have me. That chance and sacrifice allowed me nine months of dojo training, training at the Snakepit, touring a beautiful country, and more matches than any other woman up until I left! The repetition and grind helped me perfect my moveset, build chemistry–especially an amazing feeling when you don’t speak the same language. And being with Mina meant I had a mentor by my side who could give me advice. This is a chance for us girls to make our mark on history and prove ourselves.

McELVANEY: Speaking of Mina Shirakawa, Rose Gold was quite the successful duo. Do you think we could see the team get back together sometime in the future?

MAY: Mina Shirakawa and I have such a special bond. She’s the reason I finally got to wrestle in Japan. We said we wanted to wrestle teams all over the world. I’m hopeful we can reunite and do just that!

McELVANEY: I’d imagine one of the reasons you returned to England was to spend time with your loved ones. Do you have your eye on the current scene there? It seems to have evolved, with new stars in the making, even in the short time you’ve been away.

MAY: It’s definitely been nice to be hoke and spend some time with my family. I have my sights set on wrestling internationally. I have so many places I want to wrestle. I won four championships in the U.K. feel for the moment my time here is done and the next girls should come through! I’d love to wrestle on a big stage in front of my family in the U.K., though. Maybe one day!

McELVANEY: You’ve been accumulating more and more fans in North America, particularly here in the States. Anybody in particular you’d like to get in the ring with on this side of the pong?

MAY: It’s been incredible and humbling to have so much support worldwide, particularly North America has always been very vocal for me. There’s such a deep pool of talent in America. And I’ve only toured there once. So I have a pretty long list. I want to do intergender (matches) … there’s an open challenge!

McELVANEY: What’s next for Mariah May?

MAY: I am still deciding my next move. I love Japan, and I want to have a deathmatch there. (Risa Sera, if you’re reading this …) I also have a strong desire to travel more, as before Japan I had visited 5 countries in one year! There’s lots of opportunity and it’s really exciting.

[With some reports suggesting she is headed for AEW, the “Foreign Ace” tells PWI she is still considering her options. Looks for her to do quite a bit of travel in the future (And compete against some of the planet's top talent).]

[wolfsclothing6]

Tired of his average body, Kevin decided to see what it was like to be a bear for a day. He got a special ordered pair of Grizzly Undies in the mail, which promised you a beefy bear bod for a full 24 hours. He slipped them on in the morning after showering one Saturday and the changes were immediate. He gained a couple of inches in height, and almost a hundred pounds of mass. He had a huge bulging gut, thick beefy biceps, and claves that were almost as wide around us as old waist. Wiry hair exploded out of his chest, coating him entirely. Arms, chest, legs, back, groin…it seems like anywhere that could have a healthy covering of hair, hair was out in force. His beard was particularly impressive, nice and thick and well-maintained. as opposed to the dark brown of the rest of his body, it also had a bit of a reddish tinge to it, especially around the chin. His head hair started thinning a little bit, but overall he thought he looked great. Kevin was surprised that a couple of tattoos swirled and appeared on his body, but they looked a little faded and were clearly the remanence of a well-spent and adventurous youth. Kevin had made sure to order a special pair that left his mind unaffected, so he still had all of the cognition and faculties that he normally possessed. The label said he might feel slightly more relaxed and confident, but it suggested that was just as much a placebo effect of his new body rather than an actual change in thinking.

Having been prepared for the occasion, Kevin had purchased a few items to fit his new body, and he got dressed. He went to down to the gym that morning to see what his new form could do, and it didn’t disappoint. Despite the prodigious stomach, his bear body was exceptionally strong. He could easily surpass what he used to bench, and his squats were insane, easily going up to three full plates a side on the bar. Unfortunately, his new body did not improve his stamina to a great extent, so even though he was able to crank out rep after rep, he found himself getting tired rather quickly. As he finished his third set of dead lifts, breathing hard and sweating everywhere, a young frat boy walked over and complimented him on his form. Kevin looked at the guy and smiled. The young man looked like he had just woken up, with messy hair, a tank top with some Greek letters on it, and a pair of very baggy athletic shorts that were doing nothing to conceal the massive hard-on within. In fact, Kevin could tell the man before him was going commanding, and he felt his pulse quicken and blood surging to his dick. Kevin walked right in front of the guy and smiled, starting up a conversation with the frat boy. They The guy was on summer break, living at home while interning, but wanted to work off his beer gut he picked up over his last term. Chatted a little bit more, and wouldn’t you know it, both of them had just finished their workout for the day. Kevin suggested they relax in the sauna and share more tips, and before long young mr. frat boy was gagging on Kevin massively thick six inch dick. He joked to the man that it was almost as wide as it was long, but the challenge only semend to make the young man work harder to fit the wide piece of meat into his zealous mouth. The boy was a pretty good cocksucker, and it didn’t take Kevin very long at all to shoot. The frat boy tried to swallow his load, but Kevin’s huge bear balls were exceptionally full, and a few dribbles of jizz escaped, marking his face. They both laughed at this, since in the dark sauna it was indistinguishable to tell cum from sweat, and the boy thanked Kevin for the privilege of fooling around. It was already only four hours into the day with his new beefy bear body, but Kevin could tell he was definitely going to have to order a couple more pairs of grizzly undies…

[mcgnussen]

debrief with kevin magnussen - episode 3 out of 3 (by viaplay) part 1

lessons from the 2022 season

kevin’s big takeaway from the season is how to deal with the tyres. generally kev wore down the tyres much more quickly than mick, especially after the big upgrade, and he has tried to change his driving style to spare the tyres more. kevin likes to be very aggressive at the start since all the cars are close and it’s the optimal time to get ahead, but for some reason, the tyres did not like that. so he would get ahead and then just fall back. whereas mick is very careful at the start, but he did not lose as much momentum as kevin, and they discovered that the first 2-3 laps on the tyres were crucial for the entire stint. meaning that even after the start when k-mag tried to take care of the tyres then they never really wanted to go far. so kevin has been forced to actually hold back, which he has found quite hard since it goes against his instinct and he also finds it boring.  

he credits mark slade for making a big difference. mark is really good at spotting kev’s weaknesses (mai note: lmao it sounds bad but k-mag is very appreciative of it) and sets the car up to try and combat those weaknesses. mark is good at setting the right direction. it was kevin who did that before got mark, but as he says, an engineer does understand the car and the set-up better than a racing driver. 

highs and lows 

the best part of the season is that kevin felt like there was an opportunity to do something cool almost every race weekend. it has felt possible to get some good results. that motivation of knowing there is a small chance of getting a crazy result has been very joyful for kev.    

the worst part has been the frustration with the fia regarding the meatball flags. kevin points out that is mainly happened in the races where he had good pace and a good shot of points, it was never those weekends where haas was far off the pace.  

kevin believes haas is in a good spot right now. he feels like there is momentum in the team and the interest for the team - especially with the moneygram title sponsorship. it is a very big sum of money. he says that haas will still be underdogs even if they hit the cost cap since the big teams still have a lot of advantages elsewhere, but he is confident that haas will make good use of the money.

brasil pole 

the trick to getting pole was kevin’s outlap where he went much faster than he usually would to test where the grip was. usually you would not go that fast due to tyre degradation, but he thought it more relevant to judge the grip than to protect his tyres.    

haas did also think about choosing intermediates for kevin, but they decided on slicks and sent him out first. but his tyres did cool down a lot while he was out there which was the risk, but it all worked out in the end.    

kevin was actually annoyed by the red flag that george caused. because already during his in-lap, despite the fact he was driving slow, he was slipping around so he knew that quali was done. so when he is told that he is p1 then he is ecstatic as he knows no one will be able to improve. but then george brings out the red flag which is when he says “don’t celebrate yet” to the team as he was afraid the track might dry up again. so kevin would still have gotten pole without the red flag.

brasil sprint and race

the goal was p7 in the sprint. kevin knew red bull, ferrari and mercedes would all overtake him sooner and later, so he did not want to sacrifice the tyres in a futile effort to keep them behind. norris was a little faster than he hoped, so he also lost a position to him. but he was generally happy with the result of the sprint.    

kevin was pretty chill about daniel driving into him and there are clearly no hard feelings. they analysed the move on screen and he explained it from both point of views. kev said the move went wrong because daniel was too focused on the alpha tauri, but also because it seemed like a half-hearted overtake attempt. when they entered the corner, daniel did not try and get up beside kevin, so he was not in the right position to overtake, so kevin clocks that and then fully focus on the car in front. but then he is suddenly hit (mai note: the move looks even weirder when you look back at it in slow mo, i have no idea what daniel was thinking like there was no way it would ever be successful). one of the experts said it was a sign of a lack of confidence from daniel.  

during the race then he was stuck on the track, but he remembered that the same had happened with alonso, so he assumed the track maybe did not have the infrastructure to send a car to pick him up, so he decides to just chill and watch the race. he attempted to talk to the marshals, but they could not speak a word of english. he assumes after the race, he could just follow the marshals, but then he quickly realises that he is stuck. he waits another 10 minutes, but then decide to go back on his own. the marshals spot him near the startline, they cut open the fence for him and k-mag finds himself surrounded by a lot of fans, which he says was a little scary but he also said “oh well then i can say that i’ve had that experience!”

[90363462]

Shutterstock

How To French Kiss, According To An Expert

After all, French kissing is an art.

Kiarra Sylvester

Apr. 16, 2021 02:55AM EST

K-I-S-S-I-N-G was supposed to lead to love, then marriage, and then a baby carriage. And though that clearly isn't how that works, I think we can all remember learning how to French kiss being sort of a big deal in adolescence. Still. It's one of those things that you don't forget. Truly, my first kiss is still the source of my anxiety when it comes to the most basic tongue action that we'll ever discuss as adults: French kissing. I was in eighth grade and the boy who I had been pining over for all of the fall semester was finally mine. It was after school in the hall as he was on his way to basketball practice when he leaned in for a kiss. I quickly called attention to the fact that I didn't know how to kiss in an awkward outburst. He ran off laughing and told the entire locker room.

To this day, I'm not all that certain I'm the best kisser, though I hopefully hope no one has me on their list of worst kissers. Much like when Hitch instructed Kevin to stick with a two-step in the 2005 eponymously named film, I coach myself to stick with the one-two step of tonguing. I let our tongues wrestle just a little and then when I'm not certain what comes next, I suck and bite a little lip. However, I'm certain that French kissing can be far more intricate than this. 

Thankfully, I know my strengths and weaknesses well enough to know that I had to use a lifeline for this one. I got in touch with Tyomi Morgan, ACS Pleasure Coach and certified Sexologist to pick her brain. Better yet on a few, much-needed pointers to achieve the much desired accolade of most improved French kisser. 

You'll be happy to find that she delivered, here's what was said.

Kissing With Tongue: How To French Kiss, According To An Expert

Shutterstock

Like I said, I'm not the best kisser so it always feels super awkward right down to not really understanding where my tongue should be and when it should be there. Morgan says, "The dance that tongues do during French kissing really depends on the people who are in the act. One partner may have a more dominant approach while the other is more passive. There are situations where both partners are dominant in how they approach the French kiss which could lead to awkwardness...it's all about creating a balance that allows the kissing to flow effortlessly." 

The Pleasure Coach adds, "One partner secedes to the other and allows the other to lead. Then, roles can be reversed allowing the submissive partner to take the lead. 

"Tongues can do a lot of different things in the French kiss. Partners can touch tongue tips or circle each other's tips while the tongues are poked out. One partner can suck on the other's tongue while it pokes in and out, or tongues can rub up against each other with the upper side caressing the underside of the other. Tongues can chase each other inside of their mouths, embrace like sword fighting or rub up against the inner lips. The tip of the tongue can also be used to flick or trace the lips as well. 

"Tongues are always moving in a French kiss — how they move is determined by the messages they want to convey to each other."

This actually provides relief in understanding not only what I'm "supposed" to do but also knowing why many of my kisses have probably been so awkward. In always feeling compelled to do something, and absolutely anything, I will dominate the kiss without offering space for my partners to do so. I do this to fill the "silence" so to speak and pose as if I know what I'm doing. When in actuality, the key is to let it flow!

Know That The Tongue Is A Muscle & Work It Like One

black and white love GIFGiphy

If practice makes perfect, then how exactly can we apply that logic to kissing? Me, personally, I visualize that scene from Superstar where ol' girl is making out with the tree. But Morgan recommends working out. Yes, you read that absolutely right! "The tongue is a muscle and must be worked out just like any other muscle in the body. Flabby tongues don't maneuver as well as strong ones, and don't have as much control. 

"Strengthening the tongue is the first thing to do to gain control over the tongue's ability to deliver pleasurable strokes. The techniques found in the book, Blow Him Away by Marcy Michaels contains several tongue strengthening exercises that are easy to perform on a daily basis. Using the tongue to eat treats from cups like applesauce, pudding, jello or even frozen desserts are great ways to practice using the tongue as well. Licking food from spoons also helps." 

As someone who will lick anything out of a cup rather than waste spoons, my tongue might be better off than I anticipated. And as far as technique? Well, watch and learn! Not me, of course. "Watching videos of people French kissing goes a long way in providing examples of how to move tongues when in a French kiss."

If you've already mastered the French kiss, the Glam Erotica founder gives us some additional tips that will help add to the sensuality of your French kisses:

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1. Keep it Slow and Steady

As my supervisor says "this is a marathon not a race" and thus it makes sense that Morgan suggests being mindful of our breath when we're kissing. "Breathing plays a big part in French kissing, as the noses are close together and the mouth is in action. 

"Slowing down the breath and exhaling gently through the mouth is a technique that can help with connection and controlling the pace of kissing. Letting out sighs of ecstasy and moans of enjoyment can also heighten the experience and communicate your desire for more to a partner." 

2. Touch and Go

Additionally, "Using your hands to grab, caress or rub on other erogenous zones while locking lips and tongues is an easy way to heighten arousal and take things up a notch. Rinsing the mouth before kissing or popping a piece of gum or a breath mint will go a long way."

3. Food-play for Foreplay

Big bonus game? Make your kisses edible. Yes. Expert Tyomi Morgan suggests integrating some food to up the kinky on your kisses. 

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[nugnthopkns]

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, little bit of asshole joel, alcohol consumption, slight innuendo, moderate depiction of injury, needles

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

a/n: i know figure skater/hockey player romances are terribly cliche but i couldn’t help myself. as an ex-skater hopefully i can make it a little less cringe. there’s probably an obscene amount of technical jargon in here and i sincerely apologize. the injury mentioned actually happened to me and let me tell you, it was not fun lmao. enjoy!

Joel swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Joel just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They kick the shit out of the ice with their toe picks and leave the ice in terrible quality. It frustrates Joel because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence. 

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Joel had those experiences as well, he clearly never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Kevin finally says something. 

“Christ Beezer, relax. It’s only for another month or so until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they so please. The grief Joel catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place. 

☼☼☼☼

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff are incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championships roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more. 

US Figure Skating had taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you’re going to get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit has been kind to you, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy. 

☼☼☼☼

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain. 

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you peel away from the boards anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by gaining speed. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your center of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground. The entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus. 

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and you hang your head as you skate over. 

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is up anyways. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at. 

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you realize it’s the Flyers. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks about your age is sending you daggers. You have no idea why. 

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is just over a month out, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck. 

A couple of hours pass with you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste. 

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it too.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness. 

☼☼☼☼

Joel doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong until Claude suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault. 

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” Claude says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes G, we need to be at the top of our games.”

Claude swats Joel upside the head. “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? And that things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Joel didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you at the rink he’s going to apologize. 

☼☼☼☼

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals. 

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic – every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your jitters settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things. 

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree. “You know, I don’t hate it here as much as I used to. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting. 

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Joel sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of your music from inside the pad. He had been worried that you were never going to reappear at the rink but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Joel immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology?

Joel knew you were a good skater. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, Joel knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically. Your scores reflect that. Regardless, Joel is blown away at how talented you are when he watches you skate in person. 

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than your all. The music drives you forward in a way Joel’s never seen before – you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed he holds his breath. From watching footage of this program from earlier in the season, he knows you’re about to attempt your hardest element. The quadruple salchow is one of the hardest jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season. You’re completing the jump before Joel realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program in awe. 

When the music stops and you take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else – the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances are he’s here to make another stupid comment, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that dosen’t have glass so you can hear him better. 

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water. 

Joel’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but recovers quickly. He deserves it. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t cool. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles. “And you’re like really good.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, “But we’re fine. I had just been kicked off the ice when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Joel!” he responds. “Joel Farabee.”

☼☼☼☼

A sort of truce befalls you and Joel. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither you acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Preparing for nationals is the only that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Joel is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands. 

However, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Kevin and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Joel swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, none of the guys believe him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Travis certainly tries. What Joel doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats. 

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program. 

“I don’t know why,” you sigh. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on single and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself as a junior, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their skating. 

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Joel, and he’s holding an ice pack. 

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you. 

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Joel speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked. 

Joel smiles and nods. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by Joel’s understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Joel notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything. 

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Joel doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Joel,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home. 

☼☼☼☼

Something shifts between you and Joel after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘King Beezer’, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it if for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. Once Joel’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days. 

Joel doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside you. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice. 

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Joel brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

Joel has been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but he’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs. 

“You’re fucking joking. Joel, you could be someplace warm enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Joel retorts. 

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Beezer,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes. 

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do yours. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Joel yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Joel’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly. 

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off – you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Joel to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight. 

“What’s up?” Joel says casually. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and you can’t get out a reply. His tone changes instantly and the noise stops – the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. Joel, I don’t think I can do this.” Now across the parking lot and at your car, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat. 

“Of course you can. Want me to bring dinner over and we can do whatever?” You agree, not wanting to be alone, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment. 

Joel must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Joel ignores them. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize Joel had stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Joel slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

The two of you eat in silence, but it’s far from awkward. Joel’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let Joel lead you to the couch and put on an episode of some crime show he’s currently watching. 

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the credits roll on the second episode. 

Joel sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “Don’t worry about it. This is what friends do.” 

Slowly, you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Joel listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he tucks you into his side. Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Joel’s words make it easier to believe in yourself. 

The two of you spend the night on the couch, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off. You can’t stay in the little bubble Joel created for the two of you – the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over your fantasy. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking is just one last thing you have to worry about. When you reach the airport entrance, Joel pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave Joel. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since becoming friends.

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Joel jokes, handing you your suitcase. 

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Joel a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting. 

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble. 

Joel wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.” 

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport. Joel says parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Joel’s hip-hop playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole flight.

☼☼☼☼

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing – Joel’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute – Joel watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just know he’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed. 

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Joel. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to Joel frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to. 

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Joel asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home. 

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate. 

Joel hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” Conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Joel recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year. 

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before ubering to the rink. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters. 

“It’s Joel,” Brenda says as she tosses you your phone. 

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Joel laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask. 

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Joel stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling in your stomach. The TV cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Joel about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping. 

☼☼☼☼

Joel tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat. 

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Joel’s beyond excited to be here. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches. 

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and gloves on your hands. Joel notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Joel sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors. 

☼☼☼☼

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. Only one other girl in the hall with you but it feels too small. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates. 

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s go time. 

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score. 

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had hoped for. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.”

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small T.V in the corner while you get undressed. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. Joel’s hip-hop playlist blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy there’s a knock on the door. 

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended. 

The door is cracked open, and the head of your best friend peaks out from around it. “Hey there rockstar,” Joel says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his embrace. Joel’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him. 

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated Joel is here, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah. 

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” Joel’s smile matches yours as you shake your head. 

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Joel into answering all your questions you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Joel. 

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Joel who lets you direct him out of the arena and into the uber he called while you were wrapping up. 

It’s a silent ride, Joel knowing you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom. 

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair. 

“Nowhere yet,” Joel says, “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Joel smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos Joel got and going down a conspiracy theory youtube wormhole. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap every time you landed a jump. 

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Joel pokes fun at you beanie and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Joel’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip. 

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Joel pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps. 

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Joel doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey. 

☼☼☼☼

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel comfortable for tomorrow’s event. Joel executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Joel pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed with Joel, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily then for the both of you. 

You wake before both your alarm and Joel. It takes you a second to get your bearing and realize you’re pinned against his body, though you don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Joel for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake. 

“Beezer,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Joel come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

Joel listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with him still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot Joel wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye. 

“Will I see you after practice?” he asks, voice still gruff with sleep. 

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Joel nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Joel, but you push the thought out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, making conversation about what you did last night with Joel before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of stroking to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Joel. 

Don’t want to disrupt your pre-comp routine, but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you. 

Included is a link to a spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing Joel regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before. 

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice. 

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Joel thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves. 

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates. 

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet. 

Joel is standing at the edge of the boards during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time really getting into the zone. 

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you do jog lightly to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your skating hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd. 

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Joel’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with Joel. As you strike your final pose the music fades out and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same manner you chirp Joel for doing while he celebrates goals. 

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your garment bag in the dressing room. You know Joel is the one who threw the Gritty toy – no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey Joel replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features. 

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda. 

“Come on,” she laughs, “Joel’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of Joel you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Beezer!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point. 

“Hey golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked fucking great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Joel’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

 It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching her skate increases your anxiety – she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase. 

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash of the small T.V screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda letting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Joel, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him. 

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Joel’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and the places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Joel pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months. 

“You’re a national champion,” Joel says, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received. 

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper. 

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Joel. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen – you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about. 

☼☼☼☼

“J, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Joel’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list. 

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left Joel!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy – just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Joel’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for the organization to announce who they’re sending to the world championship. 

“How’s practice been lately?” Joel asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were shuttled immediately into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Joel’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them. 

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Travis told at practice that morning, and you giggle as Joel recounts it with failing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Joel play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights. 

Joel stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a fews in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.  

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whether or not you make the team. Joel’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop. 

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Joel corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with Joel.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.” 

Joel’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor has US Figure Skating made an announcement on social media. So you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience. 

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Joel’s ridiculous freestyle raps. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated – most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Joel included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time Joel won’t be around. 

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Joel lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door. 

Joel greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles. 

There was no reason for you to be nervous – everyone is incredibly kind. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you got together with Joel. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years. 

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and following Joel around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t anything about worlds assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement to this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut. 

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?” 

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Joel to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall. 

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, letting it stay chaste in fear of getting chirped by teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Joel sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as the two you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?” 

Having Joel be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Joel presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is. 

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer know you’re a world class athlete. 

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again kiddo.”

You do try again – fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Joel had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly. 

“Farabee!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Joel smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your direction. 

“I’m wounded babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I say whatever I want? Because I think you’re looking particularly good in those leggings.tum” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it.

Joel watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Joel to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted and since you’ve gotten together Joel has become rather fond of them as well. 

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Joel. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much. 

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal. 

Joel laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror. 

It’s almost a week later when you see Joel again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team wanting to push you too hard before taking off. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence – some of them no doubt wanting a comment from you about worlds. Joel has no idea you’re even there until long after practice, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger. 

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Joel obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates. 

“Fuck off,” he yells at Kevin, who’s hollering so loud people can probably hear him all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lie on the couch. 

“The chariot awaits m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city. 

Joel’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment – instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Joel’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Joel is playing you can’t help but smile. 

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Joel figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when Claude pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift. 

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Joel’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible. 

“What was that sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable. 

“Good morning,” he repeats. 

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Joel flawlessly – like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Joel has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities. 

For the first time in the final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off. 

☼☼☼☼

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition – off ice training, multiple practices a day, press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Joel, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Joel could be by your side like he was at nationals. 

As soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is – your skates feel they way they should and you didn’t forget any gear. It must be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you can almost convince yourself everything will be fine. 

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you – all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep. 

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front. 

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly. 

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay. 

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse. 

A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep. There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.” 

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Joel. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you. 

“There’s my girl,” Joel whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Farabee. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset Joel looks. “I’ll be fine J, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some pain meds before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring him for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself. 

Brenda holds you as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. Joel’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms. 

“Welcome home baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot. 

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down. 

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Joel drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Chuck and the rest of the management team were allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can’t exist on your own for a few hours. Joel’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so Joel keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Joel’s help. 

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Joel sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Joel’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there. 

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Joel reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater. 

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Joel smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention to the TV, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

☼☼☼☼

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Joel keeps you going. He insists you to your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain. 

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Joel pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength. 

“Ready to do this thing?” Joel asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. 

You nod enthusiastically and let him pull you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Joel steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Joel joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again. 

“I do believe you promised me a few laps lover boy,” you wink. 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Joel. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @boqvistsbabe​ @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice​ if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird:  The Hand of Andromeda Ch. 2 ( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) (New chapters will be posted first to patreon and then moved here)

The Ageis system was not what one would consider a pinnacle world of civilization in an age of interstellar travel. At best it was a backwater system deep in unclaimed space between the Rylon Collective and Havatal Republic the system with only one habitable planet, Ageis Prime.

The planet itself was largely barren, consisting of entire continents of jagged rocks and acidic seas. Only a small belt of land near the equator was remotely capable of sustaining life and supported small clusters of forests isolated from the harsh surrounding landscape.

First development of the planet was made by the Xlaxon Mining Guild when a remote probe of theirs scanned the system and found valuable minerals scattered around the planet. Shortly after a group of indentured laborers were imported to the planet and a mining operation was established, initially consisting of a landing pad, machine shop, processing facility, and several other living quarters.

Just as the operation was about to get underway however the Xlaxon Mining Guild found itself drawn into what is now known as the “Guild Wars”, which were a series of escalating conflicts fought between rival mining organizations. To put it mildly the Xlaxon’s did not last long and were quickly consumed by a larger guild. In the confusion of the guild wars the newly establish mining operation on Ageis Prime was lost in paperwork and quickly became further isolated from the rest of the galaxy.

With no overseers left and a semi functional colony all to themselves the newly transplanted workers began to form their own society on the planet and carved out a small patch of the planet they could call their own. It was nothing to brag about, but given their limited resources they made due. Several years passed before the planet would encounter a small group of mercenaries that would change their destiny forever.

A group of mercenaries calling themselves “The Fishermen” landed on the planet, which had now grown into a dense urbanized city, looking to finally establish a base of operations. There was initial resentment from the inhabitants as the established ruler of the planet, a self-proclaimed warlord known as “Kevin the Heartless”, ordered his enforcers to drive off the mercenaries. The battle was swift and the better trained and armed mercenaries easily overpowered the enforcers with the struggle finally ending when the warlord himself had his head bitten off and spit out by the mercenary’s Predatorian leader.

The inhabitants were surprised to find their new overlord was much more merciful than they had expected. While the mercenaries did establish themselves on the planet they also brought with them a vast amount of wealth from numerous sources. The normal baggage train of any military group flocked to the planet and set up shop. Bars, brothels, weapons dealers, mechanic shops, and even an official branch of the intergalactic bank quickly set up as the mercenary band began to sell out their services. As their fame grew the group not only enriched themselves but oddly enough began investing in the planets community’s as well.

Schools and hospitals were built for the growing population, a new police force and government system was established for official recognition and participation by the people of Ageis Prime, and most beneficial of all were several terraforming towers that were installed around the planet which began replacing the harsh world with an increasingly comfortable climate. With all of these improvements the general population lauded the Fishermen and heaped praise after praise on to them.

In the span of three years Ageis Prime had gone from a forgotten backwater to the galactic hub of the dead zone of unclaimed space; a pillar of civilization in the dark void of forgotten space.

Yet for all their generosity, the Fishermen still controlled everything from the shadows. It was an unspoken law of the land that nothing of importance was done without their leader’s approval. Even to run in an election a nominee had to first come see their boss and present him or herself to see if they’d amuse the Predatorian; if he didn’t find them amusing than they were expected to drop out, lest an unfortunate accident befall them.

At any given time the mercenary group was contracted out between ten to fifteen jobs ranging from basic security details for high value personnel and facilities, to waging wars on distant planets on part of an ad hoc detachment. This abundance of work was rather common as both the Rylon Collective and Havatal Republic lacked the means to enforce their wills in the unclaimed systems between their two borders. This didn’t even come close to the dozen or so different criminal groups that inhabited this unclaimed space who were always in need of additional muscle.

There were of course rival organizations to the Fishermen such as the Abvara Syndicate, Pelpens Pirates, the Brotherhood of Orion, and the Band of the Hig who each had their own sizable forces; yet each of them were constantly switching between periods of stability and bloody internal struggles for leadership. This facet was not seen inside the Fishermen thanks not only to their structuring, but also to the visionary leader that formed and continued to lead the group even now.

Sitting at the very top of the organization was the Predatorian, a massive mound of raw muscle, sharpened teeth, and with a twisted sense of humor only psychopaths could fully appreciate. Rising from a former slave he had first formed the Fishermen from the same slaves he was freed alongside during a bloody slave uprising. After taking control of ship that had once held them captive he steered it to the nearest port and sold it off, then used the funds to train and equip the slaves into a standard fighting force.

His name was Mr. B.

No one in the organization knew if that was his real name or not but what they did know was not to mock it. The last person that did had their fingers bitten off one at a time by Mr. B before they were thrown out on to the street. Mr. B later said that hearing all their jokes about his name had made him hungry for some “finger food”. He was ruthlessly efficient in his work and he expected that from all those under him. His combat experience was rivaled only by the commando units of the galactic governments. Yet for all his combat talent and training he was not as skilled when it came to logistics and the day to day operations common for such a large group. Thus he was greatly benefited by his second in command who was aptly proficient in such matters at such a young age.

A nine and a half year old human child named Lizzy Stalwart.

If there was little known about Mr. B there was even less known about his adopted daughter Lizzy Stalwart. Freed from the same slave ship Mr. B had been previously held, she had been by his side ever since. Rumor was she had been the one to trigger the mass unlocking of cells on the ship which led to the ship wide revolt of slaves against their captors.

While Mr. B handled the military aspects of the group it was Lizzy that managed the books. She had a keen insight for numbers and was always able to keep the group well-armed and fed as they went contract to contract. A common saying among the grunts of the organization was that you’d never run out of blood with Mr. B, and never run out of bullets with Lizzy Stalwart.

Despite his brutish demeanor, Mr. B had a natural soft spot for Lizzy and he had taken her under his fin so to speak and had come to see her as his daughter. The two of them were set to take on whatever the galaxy could throw at them, and they had an army behind them to throw it right back for payback.

The transport shuttle slowly descended to street level before killing the thrusters. The bus driver checked his systems and pulled open the door latch to the street.

“Fisher HQ!” they called out to the passengers behind them.

Vick grabbed his satchel bag and hefted it over his should as he stood up and made his way to the door.

“Let me guess,” the bus driver said as he finally reached the front; his eyes taking him in for a moment before he smirked, “trying to swim with the big boys?”

Vick smiled at the man as he got off but didn’t answer him. The shuttle thrusters kicked back on and the craft once again rose upwards into the air before speeding off down the road leaving Vick in the billowing cloud of dust it left behind.

He coughed several times and swiped the dust from his eyes before the cloud parted and revealed his final destination; the headquarters of the mercenary Fisherman.

It was a vast compound just outside of the city limits easily taking up nine city blocks in size. It held its own private landing pads, medical facilities, housing and training grounds, munition depots and manufactures... It was like an entire city itself dedicated to killing for money.

From the moment he had quit his dead end job as a dish washer of Veega Ce, Vick Novikov had thought of nothing but this moment. He had spent every credit he had ever saved to purchase his passage off world and the compact pistol strapped to his right thigh.

No longer would he be looked down on by those around him, no longer would people shove him out of their way as if he was garbage in the street, no longer would kids throw fucking rocks at him and laugh like the little shits they were.

Today Vick was going to become someone new, someone better, someone to be respected and feared.

Today, Vick was going to become a Fisherman.

[palmett-hoes]

per your post "every single one of the monsters is autistic and/or adhd" will you elaborate on that?, if you do i will love you forever (not that i wont if you dont do it)

oh boy i would love to!!! unironically nothing brings me more joy than writing long, convoluted character analysis posts

---

okay so i’ve written several posts before about why andrew is autistic. his moral code, the roundabout way he communicates, his body language, his stimulation-seeking behavior, his strict adherence to transactional deals, the emphasis on honesty, and a dozen other details. at this point i just take andrew being autistic as fact, not just an interpretation

h o w e v e r  i also hc that andrew is dyslexic, which is also a neurodiverse condition

- - -

similarly, i’ve seen more than one person interpret kevin as autistic, and i absolutely agree that it fits. not just the hyperfocus on exy but mostly the way he communicates. he’s very indirect, especially in his affection but very direct with his opinions. he tries to be helpful in a material way to the people he cares about, even if he comes off as negative. he wants the people he cares about to be safe and successful so he pushes them to work hard and reminds them in measurable ways how to stay healthy. he doesn’t factor in a lot of room for emotions, so instead he focuses on quantifiable things that he can improve. i personally act very similarly. approaching someone emotionally is hard for me, so when the people i care about have problems all i can think to do is try offering solutions, check up on their well-being, etc. practicality instead of conventional sentiment is extremely common with asd

- - -

so now let’s talk about neil. i had to think on this one for a WHILE but ultimately came to the conclusion that neil is adhd, probably hyperactive type. 

like obviously neil is high energy. i would say he probably does the most exercise of anyone on the team. morning run, morning practice, afternoon practice, night practice with kevin and andrew, plus he doesn’t have a car so he runs to class (on a BIG ass campus), and goes for an extra run when he feels stressed. that’s... insane, honestly.

neil reminds me SO MUCH of this post that goes:

“Was just informed by my mom that I do in fact have ADHD and the reason I thought I didn’t was because ever since I was seven whenever I got super energetic my mom would have me go chop wood so now when I’m feeling The ADHD I go chop wood”

(phenomenal post) and that’s neil to a t. tell me this isn’t exactly how neil handles his problems and also exactly what mary would have had to do to keep her unmedicated and very energetic son focused on the task of staying alive

neil also definitely has that ADHD on/off switch with his interest. the obvious being exy which is like the definition of a hyperfixation, but you can see it in other things: the way he runs totally hot or totally cold with people, his complete disinterest in his schoolwork, the way he can’t seem to sit still long enough to follow movies. but then there’s also the hyperfocus. doing the same drill for hours on end. watching exy game after exy game. staring at andrew until time falls away

what’s more, neil on many occasions shows racing thoughts, both in an anxiety way (and anxiety often goes hand-and-hand with adhd) but also as a way to quickly and accurately take in details about people to build a character profile of them. this is what allows him to connect with the foxes, how he manages to get through andrew’s puzzles, and even how he knows what to say in order to knock riko down a peg. his brain just works so fast and it takes in a lot of very specific details and disparate information to make connections.

but also like,, neil has a HUGE problem with time blindness. like the instant he didn’t have his mother around to manage and direct him anymore he lost all sense of time. he stayed in Millport for a YEAR. and what did he keep telling himself during that time? basically “i really need to move on, but not just yet.” for a YEAR! then he gets to palmetto and he’s like “i’ll cut and run in a month or two” then he doesn’t “i’ll be gone by halloween” wrong again “i’ll leave by the raven’s game” nope. like,, the boy just has NO sense of time and he can’t seem to make himself DO anything outside of an externally enforced schedule. and even then,,, HE HAD 48 FUCKING DAYS TO FIGURE OUT SOMETHING TO DO TO NOT GET MURDERED! 48 WHOLE DAYS. he didn’t make a plan, he didn’t write down any letters with goodbyes, he didn’t GO TO THE FBI LIKE HE’D INTENDED TO THE WHOLE TIME! nah he just made out with andrew and when he finally got to zero he was just like “ah shit, that was fast. oh well guess i’ll die” and that’s time blindness, babey!

---

let’s move on to nicky. 

now i think it would be really easy to say nicky is just adhd because he’s high energy and forgetful but tbh,, i don’t think that’s all of it. like if you really look at nicky’s character and especially at his problems, he has asd problems just as much as he has adhd problems.

so nicky is dual diagnosis asd and adhd. also nicky reminds me a lot of a girl i used to know who was autistic/adhd

so, adhd:

very generally speaking, ppl with adhd will struggle with sitting still, listening to and following instructions, planning/organization, following a schedule, and some social boundaries like “appropriate” times and topics of conversation

i would say you see hints of this with nicky. he’s definitely a rambunctious personality, constantly on the move, constantly stimulation seeking. he’s very tactile. he likes to dance, he likes to party, he complains about it but he’s an elite-level athlete. he’s also decidedly very chatty, and doesn’t seem to really pay attention to what he’s saying. he distracts himself and the people around him have to keep him on track. he has some trouble with boundaries. he’s a little all over the place. he’s almost a bit of an adhd stereotype

also one thing i find interesting is that when neil sees him in the library doing work neil is surprised to see he’s capable of that, especially bc when we see the upperclassmen doing work they generally do it in their dorms or on the bus and/or with other people around. that hyper-social nicky would be alone in a quiet place is weird. but this is like the most common tip for dealing with adhd. don’t do it in a familiar space. have a designated space and time to do work. limit distractions. just a lil detail

so now, asd:

in all honesty, most of nicky’s actual problems in the narrative could be viewed as stemming from asd symptoms. his number one issue being that he has a lot of trouble with nonverbal cues (and tbh, verbal ones too). the twins are mostly quiet. andrew especially (when he’s sober) communicates primarily nonverbally, and nicky seems to have a lot of trouble with this. despite knowing them for the longest on the team, nicky honestly seems to have the least insight into the way either of the twins actually thinks or processes things. he loves them, and he’s very forgiving of them, but he fundamentally doesn’t understand them. 

the twins, andrew especially, put up a LOT of nonverbal boundaries, and nicky sort of inadvertently keeps trampling all over them. he’s touchy in a way they don’t like. he talks a lot about their personal lives to other people. he treats them like they’re joking when they’re serious. etc. and like,,, you kind of get the sense that the upperclassmen feel similarly about him. beyond the homophobia, beyond the fact that he’s loyal to andrew, the upperclassmen still treat him with this sense of,, bafflement, i suppose? it’s clear that they don’t really understand him and he doesn’t really understand them. although, nicky IS curious about the upperclassmen, while the upperclassmen are pretty dismissive of him. it reminds me of when my sweet, floppy dog tries to play with my cat. their body language is different; they’re each receiving different signals than they believe they’re sending out

only,, nicky loves people!! he likes being around them, he likes talking to them. he’s interested in their lives and stories, but it’s very clear that he can’t read between the lines on people. he has an incredibly hard time with people who expect their actions to speak for them, which is most people, but is especially his cousins.

actually this is very much also an issue that i have: things need to be spelled out for me. the way i deal with it is i ask a lot of questions. ‘how do you want me to react to this potential situation?’ ‘what are specific things that make you most comfortable?’ ‘please explain to me exactly how you feel and what has prompted those feelings?’ and i’m always communicating vice versa like that with other people. a lot of specifics in both questions and answers

and the interesting thing is, when i was skimming through the books reviewing dialogue styles for another ask, i noticed that, actually, nicky DOES do this. with neil and the upperclassmen, nicky asks a LOT of quick, clarifying questions. things that ask after tone, that ask after intent. it’s kinda sad that he does this for communicating with acquaintances, but with the twins, the people he’s closest to, he makes a lot more assumptions. and i’m really proud of nicky for having this coping skill, because i can’t imagine it’s something he grew up doing. there’s no way he was raised in an environment that fostered this kind of open communication so it must have been something he learned about much later, probably in germany with the kloses, which would also explain why he’s a lil imperfect about it

---

now last but not least, aaron

this is another one i had to think through for a long time before it felt like it fit

much like how i felt that it would be easy to read nicky as simply adhd rather than also asd, i think it would be easy to say aaron is autistic simply because he is quieter, less rambunctious. however, i actually think he’s adhd, likely primarily inattentive type

in all honesty, aaron’s #1 character trait for the first two books is basically that he’s disconnected. detached. separated both from his family and his team. not in the same forcefully apathetic way that andrew is, more,, spaced out. he’s just kind,, there. not really paying attention to what’s going on, tuning in every once in a while only if something really catches his eye/ear then tuning right back out again. just sits in his corner and plays on his phone. and the thing is, from the moments when he does tune in, you can tell that he actually does care. he backs nicky when seth insults him in tfc, and we know he cares deeply about andrew even if he’s become disillusioned with their fraught relationship. he even hangs with his family, doesn’t seem to really try and slip away to other friends besides katelyn, he’s fine spending his leisure time with the monsters. so it’s not totally apathy, he’s just,,, tuned out most of the time

and, yea, that sounds like adhd. it’s not the type that most people are familiar with, and for a lot of people this causes it to slip under the radar. it can make it hard to get help or a dx because it doesn’t fit with how adhd “should” look or how someone “should” act, but difficulty focusing your thoughts and staying in tune with the current moment is absolutely part of adhd

addiction is also a huge problem for people with adhd. a lot of stimulants affect people with adhd very differently than neurotypicals, especially in small doses, and an adhd kid who’s struggled their whole lives with the disorder might try speed or god-forbid meth or fuck even coffee and suddenly find that things are a lot easier for them. they start to self-medicate, they don’t actually know what they’re doing, and then they’re addicted, and everything spirals out of control. we don’t know too many details about aaron’s addiction other than that his mother enabled him, but wouldn’t this fit? it’s also an explanation for aaron still taking drugs at eden’s, given that cracker dust seems to be a mild amphetamine. (aaron talk to betsy about the neurocog and get an actual prescription please)

(total throw away but aaron plays videogames and videogames are like,, adhd culture)

[leia-imogen]

aaron & the family he's found all by himself; vol. 2 // vol. 1

( ft. short jokes, a belated birthday shopping trip, & an ultra-chaotic winter break )

( for @criswisstuff & anyone who enjoyed the first one <3 )

savannah, who is 5'9, is constantly teasing aaron and cleo for being short. katelyn's good at 5'6, and also a bit impossible to tease bcs she's the actual best, so she gets to escape this

cleo ( 5'2 ) is perfectly delighted to have someone shorter than her for once in her life, even by only 2 inches

aaron: guys, just try and see this from my point of view

sav: [ collapses ]

katelyn: [ crouches down ]

cleo: [ sits cross-legged on floor ]

aaron: dude you're literally 2 inches taller than me

cleo: 2 and a quarter

sav is so smug about this but in a good-natured way, in that she and cleo call aaron "kid" or "kiddo" or "pipsqueak" and he doesn't mind bcs they always say it w such a huge smile and he likes to respond to sav with "how's the weather up there, tall-ass?"

and katelyn thinks it's ridiculously adorable how tiny aaron is and obviously she uses him as an armrest all the time

katelyn, petting aaron's hair: guys guys omg he's like an angsty mini blond kitten and i would kill for him <3

sav, popping up between them: mini-yard :))

before i get super distracted, i just wanna mention that aaron met sav and cleo towards the end of november, so they missed the twin's birthday

but sav still insists that she must take him shopping bcs sure his fashion sense is fine but there's always room for improvement, isn't there, aaron??

he relents, so long as she and cleo and katelyn ( who already gave him a birthday present?? why's she doing this??? ) don't spend too much money

sav drags him all around south carolina to the best thrift stores she can find and cleo and katelyn are amazed that she can get such fantastic deals on the supermodel clothes she wears

fr she's literally a fashion design major ( + minoring in business management ) and she shows up to class in skilfully done drugstore makeup and an absolutely killer outfit for like 15 bucks

she grew up poor, and she's still poor now, even if she ( thankfully ) managed to scrape a cheerleading scholarship

sav, flicking through a rack of dresses labelled $4 apiece: RIP to little miss rich bitch reynolds but i'm different ;)

no hate to allison she's awesome but she grew up in the lap of luxury surrounded by designer brands so she knows NOTHING about thrifting and rationing money in general

oh and sav and allison have kind of a frenemies thing going on bcs they're both fighting for the top spot of their fashion design course

they spend the whole day shopping and aaron ends up with a highly upgraded wardrobe that contains a lot of cute pastel stuff and sav's promise to do his makeup

aaron insists on paying for dinner at the really nice pizza place a short drive from campus even tho they all protest

and andrew knows he's found new friends, but has no idea that it's the vixens and he's dating one of them. nicky does tho, but he's sworn to secrecy

nicky thinks his new clothes are adorable and is stunned when aaron tells him the total cost

"oh my GOD that girl sounds like a genius."

"yeah, her name's sav. you guys,, would get along, i think."

okay now for the winter break part!!

i think that you can get permission to stay at dorms if you're an international student or something??

anyways since sav's super upset bcs her father straight-up told her not to come home bcs he has a new girlfriend ( god i hate sav's father )

katelyn would stay with her, but her dad can finally have her home in new york for christmas and she really doesn't want to miss it

cleo, the only one with a properly functional family, is going back to her big family house and loving parents and grandma and aunt and siblings and cousins. love that for her.

so aaron and sav are stuck at psu for 2 weeks and aaron's surprisingly cool with this. and sav's excited bcs for the first time since her mom died, she can spend her christmas with someone she actually wants around instead of her shitty-ass father and his constant stream of bitchy girlfriends

they spend a lot of time together, stealing food from the athlete's dining hall to make their own weird combos, which usually ends with aaron making something Cool and Interesting and sav gagging and spitting out whatever strange concoction she had previously insisted would taste good

i literally can't bring myself to give a shit about the twinyards' deal bcs andrew literally became best friends with renee?? and hooks up with guys at eden’s??? idk what's going on there but it's like andrew is trying to control aaron's life while he can do whatever he wants??? and honestly wtf????

also let me just make it clear that i ADORE andrew so so much he's one of my favourite comfort characters ever but i'm not gonna make excuses for his shitty behaviour. i fully believe he heals and puts away his pride to apologise to aaron, nicky, and kevin for his treatment of them

that's definitely not to say that aaron's internalised homophobia isn't eww, but with so many important people in his life gay, he makes a huge effort to get over it

so andrew just thinks that aaron is spending a lot of time in the library or out with nicky or something

and when aaron tells sav about this deal, she's kinda horrified, but it's pretty clear to her that aaron so desperately wants to fix his relationship with his brother, and she's not in any place to discourage him, is she?

the only thing she can do is hope that he won't come out all the worse for it

and stare at the boy curled up on the other end of the pale pink sofa cleo's parents had gotten, wonder just how much shit he'd been put through, and decide she was going to be his best friend

aaron's face has gone entirely impassive. sav nudges his fluffy-socked foot with her own, then reaches out to smooth the crease between his eyebrows. "careful, you'll wrinkle your pretty little face."

aaron is very caught off guard by this, and very promptly flushes bright red, which contrasts with the pale teal hoodie he stole from katelyn

"okay, enough talk about depressing crap. wanna go make christmas cookies now?"

"yeah."

so they make christmas cookies. well, it was supposed to be christmas cookies, but it turns into double chocolate fudge cookies somewhere along the line. neither of them knows how

them baking together is the definition of chaos. they're still blasting songs, and sav is singing along terribly

"yOu'Re A mEaN oNe, Mr. GrInCh," while poking aaron's cheek as he tries to mix something. he throws a handful of flour at her. "yOu ReAlLy ArE A hEel."

anyways obviously sav retaliates and that ends in a flour fight. it only stops when aaron deadass cracks an egg on sav's head and she smears chocolate into his hair

she also tries to make him sing along to baby, it's cold outside

"i'Ve GoT tO Go `wAAyyy~" she holds a spatula up to his face

"go away."

they video call katelyn, who takes one look at the mess in the cramped dorm kitchen and sighs so loudly and dramatically that her dad pops in and asks if everything's okay

aaron freezes up at the sight of him and sav quickly turns off the camera, bcs they both want to make good impressions on him, and being covered in various cookie ingredients just won't cut it, ya know?

the cookies turn out delicious and sav sends all their group chat various photos of the process, most of which consist of selfies with her making goofy faces while aaron is simultaneously baking and flipping off the camera

plus a several videos of sav enthusiastically dancing and mouthing the lyrics of, as follows, all i want for christmas is you, let it snow, and santa claus is coming to town and aggressively pointing a spatula at aaron

"c'mon aari, just sing! please??? please???? please you can do it i believe in you!!"

finally he just. gives up. "okay, you know what? fine, i'll sing to ONE and then you will STOP bothering me you insolent dumbass."

sav beams. santa baby starts playing. aaron is very clearly going through five stages of grief in 0.5 seconds

"go on," sav says sweetly as she slides in next to a pouting aaron, "i'll sing with you."

sav slings an arm around his shoulder and sways with him, so it's just her doing that and him grumpily mumbling the lyrics

and when the cookies are cooling down, they start cleaning the kitchen up. aaron rubs some spilled egg yolk into sav's hair but it goes pretty okay otherwise, since they're just listening to more christmas songs and chatting about light stuff, like aaron's biochem course, sav's fashion course, and their dumb classmates

aaron mostly listens tho, and learns that sav kind of hates allison reynolds for giving up her inheritance when she would do ANYTHING for even the tiniest fraction of that money

but she still thinks allison's gorgeous bcs c'mon

and that sav's dream is to one day open her own boutique!!

aaron spends most of the actual christmas day with the monsters at eden's bcs nicky and andrew wanted to

he spent a lot of the time texting on their group chat

doessavvyisgay: so u just go to a nightclub every week??

unaliveme: i mean yeah, i literally worked here for a while. we needed money and nicky was already working 2 jobs night and day

actualblessing: babe ur backstory is so tragic

unaliveme: i'm a fox for a reason ig

cleo.magda: Yes but-

doessavvyisgay renamed this conversation "aaron miniyard support group"

unaliveme: oh ffs

unaliveme: sav subject change go

doessavvyisgay: i'm at the clothes store what should i get?

actualblessing: something pretty :)

doessavvyisgay: sorry, i can't buy the cashier

cleo.magda: Wow.

doessavvyisgay: I DID GET HER NUMBER THO

unaliveme: lmaooo what's her name?

doessavvyisgay: uh

unaliveme: savannah istg u don't even know her name??

actualblessing: s a v

actualblessing: damn u really do be turning on the Charm tho

actualblessing: respect i didn't even talk to aaron till i asked him for notes bcs he has rly pretty notes and also a rly pretty face

actualblessing: and even then i was like :0

unaliveme: IT WAS CUTE I PROMISE

doessavvyisgay: u 2 = the only valid heterosexual couple

actualblessing: rt

unaliveme: oh shit i'm getting super drunk

cleo.magda: Aaron, you drink? That's not legal, get out of there right now. Kids these days-

unaliveme: cleo u have literally seen me get drunk af,, the first time we met,,, and anyways this is how my family bonds ✌🏻

doessavvyisgay: that's. so damn weird kiddo but go off ig

actualblessing: no go find better things to bond about other than alcohol and weird sweaty dancing

cleo.magda: Yeah, go watch some Christmas movies!

unaliveme: nicky makes us watch die hard every year

doessavvyisgay: see u in hell, kiddo ;)

cleo.magda: I meant things like The Polar Express and Home Alone.

actualblessing: merry christmas ya filthy animals!!

doessavvyisgay: merry xmas y'all i'm gonna go to that christmas party bcs i'm super bored

unaliveme: merry christmas mothers and fuckers

cleo.magda: Merry Christmas, you guys!

[kariachi]

Sorry, following this up- We know that Kevin's armors reduce the damage he takes. We also know that he still feels shit. We don't know if this is because he can feel via the surface of the armors he makes or of it's because force travels through them, but we know that's the case. We know he feels shit enough for shit like blaster fire to still hurt. We can also assume that the level of protection offered changes depending on what material he's using and how his armor is utilized in that specific instance (we have reason to believe he may be able to convert his body into material rather and instead chooses to go the 'thin outer layer' route, for instance, and the effects are likely different)

I say this because we do have to take into account that he is utilizing armors that do improve his durability when discussing topics like this.

And the entire topic comes up to add to the original post- percussive force exists. If you're shot while wearing a bulletproof vest, you can still die from organ damage- the vest prevents the bullet from entering your body and doing even worse damage, but it can only absorb so much force before the rest of it has to be transferred into your body. There's simply only so much armor can protect you against any sort of attack, especially when you, say, don't have added padding between the armor and your body. Or even any gaps between the two.

All that to say, Kevin, when he's got an armor going, probably doesn't have to worry about cutting or shearing damage* but would likely still be vulnerable to various forms of blunt or percussive damage, with all the potential injuries that result. Due to his increased baseline durability and the armors these injuries are probably far lessened compared to what a normal, unarmored human would be dealing with, but given his shit includes being put through walls? Boy is still going through it.

Especially since we know that he canonically isn't impervious to damage. See, after all, his canon scar, and the non-canon scars that more than likely go with it given how he got the scar as compared to all the shit he's been through.

(*We know Kevin can repair damage to the materials he generates for his armors, understandably since he's generating them, but we don't know whether he has a proper healing factor or in fact how this translates to his own body. Hence, in the prior post, the note that a healing factor is an option. In which case, boy still goes too much fucking through it, but is recovering quickly enough to keep on trucking on rather than necessarily being durable enough to reduce the damage taken to something he can work through.

Either way, a slashing or shearing blow is likely to do less damage to his actual body compared to the armor, as compared to direct impacts.)

Random: Logically Kevin needs to either have a healing factor or perpetual cuts and bruises and shit through the UAF era

Like, yes, I know, animation constraints, this isn't a criticism just, a thought. Boy is the team tank, always in the thick of shit, and he gets knocked the fuck around. I mean, you guys remember The Gauntlet? An episode where hours after a fight he still had chunks of armor up (despite normally dropping his armors pretty much immediately after fights), had barely managed to move from where he'd been left, and hours after the guys find him is still stuck there, presumably in the same condition? Sorry but that boy was fucking injured.

Understand the limits of the medium, but looking at it from the Watsonian angle that boy either has a healing factor or the medium and target audience are keeping us from seeing that this boy probably looks like he got into a fight with a combine harvester at least 60% of the time.

[24worldnewsnet]

Manchester CityCharlotte CoatesBBC Sport journalistShamoon HafezBBC Sport football news reporter1 hour ago472 CommentsManchester City have confirmed the signing of AC Milan midfielder Tijjani Reijnders for an initial fee of £46.5m on a five-year contract.The Netherlands international is Pep Guardiola's fourth summer signing with Rayan Ait-Nouri, Marcus Bettinelli and Rayan Cherki having also joined.Reijnders, 26, was signed in time to be eligible for this month's Club World Cup in America and could make his debut on 18 June against Wydad FC."I am ecstatic to be signing for Manchester City," Reijnders said. "City are one of the biggest teams in the world, with the best coach, world-class players and outstanding facilities. "Under Pep Guardiola, City have won so many titles and I want to help keep that going with a lot more success in the coming years."The midfielder has been capped 22 times by the Netherlands but was left on the bench during Tuesday night's 8-0 thrashing of Malta.He scored 15 goals in 54 matches across all competitions for Milan last term and was named Serie A's midfielder of the season.With Kevin de Bruyne departing the club, Reijnders will strengthen the centre of the pitch for Guardiola as they look to improve on their third-placed Premier League finish last season.City boost squad for Club World CupA question being asked in the lead up to the Club World Cup was how seriously teams would be taking the expanded competition.Manchester City have emphatically answered that question by moving quickly to bolster a wounded squad that will now hope to go far in the competition in the United States.With De Bruyne departing and a hole left in attacking midfield, City were eyeing up Bayer Leverkusen's Florian Wirtz but decided not to pursue a deal.Instead, they have boosted the side with the signings of midfielder Reijnders and Cherki and left-back Ait-Nouri for a total of around £108m, which is less than the reported 150m Euros (£127m) asking price for the Germany international.All three, plus new goalkeeper Bettinelli, are available for selection for the Club World Cup with City facing Moroccan side Wydad AC in Philadelphia first on 18 June.'He will love working with Guardiola'Reijnders joins City in a period which feels like a revolution rather than a renewal, and one that may require a revolving door at the Etihad over the next few months.Attacking midfielder Cherki has already joined, while midfielders Kalvin Phillips, James McAtee and Jack Grealish have all been tipped to leave the club, along with defender Kyle Walker who spent the latter part of last season out on loan.The squad also includes Ederson, Stefan Ortega, Nathan Ake and John Stones, whose futures have also been the topic of much media speculation.Finding the right time to replace ageing stars like Ilkay Gundogan, Bernardo Silva and the injured Mateo Kovacic in City's midfield will also surely be in Guardiola's thinking.Despite the £50m acquisition of Nico Gonzalez in February, the lack of running power and physicality in City's engine room was exposed last season as they failed to win a major trophy for the first time in eight years.Reijnders, who turns 27 in July, is viewed as the man to help alter that dynamic.A powerful box-to-box midfielder, Reijnders ended last season with 10 goals and four assists in Serie A, with only one player in his position, Napoli's Scott McTominay (16), having more goal involvements.His performances were also considered one of the few positives in a disappointing season for Milan, who finished eighth in Serie A and missed out on European qualification.Reijnders was ranked ninth for forward passes in Italy's top flight last term and was fifth for through balls and carrying the ball."He will slot in very well at City, he runs a lot, he's very willing to improve and he will love working with Guardiola," said Italian football journalist Daniele Verri."He improved a lot since his first season at AC Milan."Related topicsPremier LeagueManchester CityFootball