#‘tis palomino season

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

A Palomino Christmas

Jack Daniels x f!reader

|| Palomino universe oneshot, out of chronological order as I haven't finished the series yet. Can be read as a stand-alone. ||

{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: You spend Christmas at the ranch with Jack. You thought the present you got him was inspired until you see him wearing it - the cowboy way.

Inspired by snowsuit anon and this adorable post (and a super cute nickname for a pony) sent to me by @aynsleywalker.

Warnings: !Ski suit action!, drinking, mention of food, gratuitous descriptions of the male bulge body, dirty talk, safe unprotected sex, feelings so fluffy. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!

Word count: 4.5k

Dedicated to @guiltypleasure-girl who I'm so grateful to have made friends with this year and who, imho, draws the best Jack in all the lands. If you don't already, follow her art page @guiltypleasure-art for the most gorgeous fanart ❤️

It’s always busy in the Stateman’s main kitchen on Christmas morning. The smokey burn of firewood warms the cozy space as the radio blares holiday tunes. Poppy presides over the operations at the head of the table - everything is planned down to the T and everyone has a role.

On any other Christmas day, Jack would be her sous-chef, the one she relies on to keep everyone on schedule and in their place.

But alas, today is not any other Christmas day.

The normally put together cowboy ambles around the place like a headless chicken, leaving a trail of half-completed tasks in his wake. Tequila, in uncharacteristic discretion, follows two steps behind.

He turns off the tap that Jack’s left pouring into the already full kettle, draining the excess water and putting it on the boil.

There’s one slice of bread in the toaster, while another lies forgotten on the table, which Teak slides into the free slot and pushes down the lever.

Jack pulls a jar of pickles from the fridge unseeingly, putting it on the table and walking away in search of a mug under three sets of watching, worried eyes. Teak replaces it with his friend’s favourite strawberry jam without a word.

While the oblivious cowboy’s back is turned, Teak motions his hand and forth across his neck in a slicing motion, mouthing nope emphatically at the occupants of the kitchen table.

On his cue, Poppy clears her throat and speaks up, ‘Jack, sweetie, why don’t you go check on the horses after your toast? The stable boys want to leave work early today after doing their morning rounds.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ he answers absent-mindedly, staring down into the empty mug in his grasp as if he’s lost his train of thought.

At that very moment, the toaster pops and Jack practically jumps out of his skin, stepping on Jameson’s paw where he’s lying on his rug in front of the fire, prompting an indignant yelp from the border collie and winces from around the table.

‘Sorry boy,’ he apologises and picks up his toast - burning his fingers - and stumbling over his feet to set his plate down. ‘Mornin’,’ he nods to the others without really registering who’s there.

Jack proceeds to butter his toast with such singular focus that he doesn’t notice when Tequila fills his still empty cup with coffee, only to knock it over immediately when a phone buzzes and his hand flies out to grab his. Ginger and Poppy trade concerned looks as he jumps onto his feet with another apology, snatching a tea towel to clean up the mess.

Eggsy, on potato peeling duty on the other side of the table, isn’t so diplomatic. ‘You’re jumpier than Bambi this morning, cowboy.’

Jack grunts noncommittally and chews on his toast, not rising to the bait.

‘Don’t be so nervous mate, we promise we’ll be on our best behaviour.’

Teak snorts from the kitchen counter where he’s making his PBJ. ‘I don’t know about England, but around these parts, lying on Christmas day is frowned upon.’

Eggsy replies high-handedly, ‘Can’t speak for you, Tequila, but I’ll be on my best behaviour.’

Ginger chuckles as Teak sits down at the table with his sandwich. ‘Ha! I’ll believe it when I see it.’

Jack points a forceful finger at the boys, one after the other. ‘I swear to the baby Jesus Christ, if you two don’t behave yourselves, there will be hell to pay.’

Eggsy snickers. ‘Never thought I’d see the day. Ol’ cowboy Jack falls heads over heels for a bird -’ he screeches when the coffee-soaked rag hits him in the face, which sends Teak into hysterical laughter. ‘Oi! What the fuck, man!’

Ignoring the ruckus, Jack dusts the crumbs from his hands and shrugs on his jacket, grabbing a thermos and filling it up with fresh coffee. With a hurried later, he strides out of the warmth of the kitchen and into the frigid morning air.

Thermos tucked under his arm, Jack rubs his palms together, warming his fingertips with his breath as snow crunches beneath his well-worn boots. The ranch is blanketed in thick snow, a picture-perfect postcard landscape as it is every Christmas. The morning mist has yet to burn off, but he can tell by the peek of blue through the clouds that it will be a fine day.

If your flight is on time, you should be on your way by now. He’d wanted to pick you up from the airport, but you insisted that there’s no point in him driving all the way there when you already know the way. Depending on the conditions, it shouldn’t be long until you arrive.

His list of chores isn’t long this morning - the stable boys will be on duty until lunchtime - but still, he wants to tick all the boxes before you get here. Striding into the heated stables, he says howdy to the grooms and whistles, smiling as dozens of faces appear at the doors, ears pointed forwards in attention, snickering and whinnying at him.

This never gets old.

‘Mornin’ ladies and gentlemen,’ he calls out, wandering down the stalls, rubbing a velvety nose here and pulling on a furry ear there. ‘Who’s ready to stretch their legs this fine mornin’, huh?’

Starting at the end of the stables, he unlatches Bourbon’s door and ushers him out of the stall, then crosses the aisle to let out Tanqueray, Champ’s elderly but still supremely poised Friesian, who clops leisurely towards the exit. Zig-zagging back and forth, Jack whistles, jostles and chats to the horses, all smartly dressed in warm rugs, as they file out down the corridor and into the courtyard for a bit of morning exercise while the stable boys mucked out their stalls.

‘No loitering, ma’am,’ says Jack sternly when Poppy’s mare, Pie, idles in the middle of the building. He gives her a firm pat on the rump to get her moving and whistles at one of the cheeky Shetland ponies who’s snuck into someone else’s stall. ‘Half-Pint! What did I say about stealing your friends’ treats? Shoo, now!’

The stables empty, the echoes of hooves on the concrete ground fading, with Scotch being one of the last to exit. Looping back to make sure there are no dilly-dalliers, Jack’s surprised to find the palomino, who would normally be leading the charge towards the grazing fields, still lingering at the barn doors.

‘Whatcha doin’, boy?’ he calls out.

Scotch tosses his head and steps to the side -

And you appear.

With the biggest grin, you run towards him and fly into his arms.

Your cheeks are wet, the spray of snow powder melting when it hits your skin. It drifts all around you as Scotch eats up the white ground, the thundering hooves muted by the soft cushion of the untouched, overnight snow. The mountain air is sweet and pure and stingingly cold, you can barely feel your face anymore - but it might just be from how hard you’ve been smiling.

You feel like you’re in the middle of a Christmas movie. The lush, green landscape you remember so well from your trip months ago is now all coated in wintry glory, but you still recognise the contours of the land and the mountains. It’s your first time in the saddle since - the whistle of the winds in your ear is a song you remember all the words to, the burn in your out-of-practice muscles all over a familiar old friend.

And you’re happy.

Slowing Scotch to an easy trot as you approach the end of the trail, your breath mists in front of your face as you look down over the ranch, a scene straight out of a classic snow globe, thin wisps of smoke drifting from the chimneys of the wooden lodges dotted across the property.

Gently manoeuvring the palomino to a halt and giving him a pat on the neck, you turn to smile at Jack as he walks up beside you on Whiskey. ‘I’ve missed this so much.’

‘Me too,’ he answers, warm eyes on you.

You give him a sidelong glance. ‘You’ve been here the whole time, cowboy.’

‘I know. I’ve missed you being here.’ He reaches over and pulls your gloved hand towards him, presses a kiss to the back. You want to shuck off the leather and cup his whiskered jawline in your palm, push the well-worn hat off and twine your fingers into his hair -

Later. There will be time for all that later, preferably in front of a roaring fireplace.

You break the moment with an eyebrow arched in a challenge. ‘Race you to the stables?’

Jack grins. ‘You’re on, darlin’.’

Christmas dinner is in the main lodge, which you didn’t use during your trip in the summer. The intimate space is exuberantly decorated in red and gold, a huge, freshly cut pine tree stands proudly by the antique fireplace, a merry fire burning. The table is beautifully laid, silverware immaculately polished and fine china sit alongside holidays-themed napkins. A magnificent feast lines the length of the mahogany dining table comfortably seating eight.

But any kind of decorum stops there.

As the hours tick by and bottles of wine and sherry are emptied, the meal has descended into what Jack warned you in advance as ‘typical Kingsman chaos’. According to the cowboy, the whole Kingsman team comes to the ranch every summer for their annual company retreat, but only Merlin, Eggsy and Harry fly over for Christmas. And while their contingent is small, havoc is an inevitable conclusion where any number of the Kingsman are involved.

Desserts are still being passed around the table - sticky toffee pudding, pecan pie and Yule log - when Teak and Eggsy start to raise their voices and slap the table about British and American Christmas songs. They’re currently yelling - not singing - carols at each other, with Jameson barking excitedly in the background.

Tequila throws his hands up in frustration at Eggsy’s rendition of Twelve Days of Christmas. ‘Why is there a partridge in a pear tree? What the fuck is a partridge?’

Champ and Merlin are having a more civilised but no less intense debate about pies - specifically mince pies versus pumpkin pie as a holiday dessert.

‘Next year, old chap,’ declares Merlin. ‘I’ll bring mince pies with me and you’ll be eating your words, just you wait.’

Jack whispers in your ear. ‘He says that every year, but never does.’

You chuckle and turn your attention to Harry, who’s now insisting that they should put Love Actually up on the big projector screen after dinner, whereas Ginger and Poppy are lobbying for Elf.

‘Why not The Holiday? It’s literally the perfect American-British movie,' you pitch in, which launches another furious tirade of debate at your end of the table.

Jack mumbles under his breath. ‘Because they’re idiots and pointless, festive arguing is a winter sport around here.’

His arm is warm around your shoulders as you giggle into your mulled wine. ‘Is it like this every year?’

‘Yup,’ he answers, really popping the P. With a mild touch of embarrassment, he holds your amused gaze and asks, ‘Too much?’

Tipping your face upwards, you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

‘Just enough,’ you assure him as the corners of his eyes crinkle in the warmest smile.

You didn’t have time to drop off your suitcase at Jack’s cottage, which is a short drive from the ranch, when you arrived in the morning. Instead, with Champ’s blessing, you commandeered one of the guest cabins, all empty in the off-season - which is just as well. By the time midnight rolls around, it’s clear that no one is in any state to make their way back to their respective off-site houses.

Harry and the ladies retired to their borrowed rooms a little while ago, leaving you and Jack to round up the stragglers. You check on Teak, lying face down on the sofa, bundled up in his winter quilts in an aborted attempt to leave. A few steps over, you drape a blanket on Champ and another one on Merlin, who are passed out on armchairs which look comfortable enough to sleep in, socked feet up on matching ottomans. Eggsy is cuddling with Jameson in front of the fire, and Jack feeds the logs to make sure it burns till morning.

It’s bleak outside. Jack shields you from the worst of the winds, tucking you into his side as you trudge across the snow, the early start you’ve had catching up on you. Thankfully, the heating is already on in the cabin when you get there, and he starts a fire as well while you get ready for bed.

When you pad into the bedroom in your pyjamas, teeth brushed and makeup washed off, Jack looks up to see you holding a neatly-wrapped present, a shy smile on your lips.

Standing up from the fireplace, he dusts his hands and reaches for you, palms settling on the small of your back, leaning down to graze his still cold nose against yours. ‘Is that for me, darlin’?’

‘Maybe,’ you reply coyly. ‘Do you want to do presents now or tomorrow morning?’

‘Let’s do it now, I have to feed the horses early tomorrow,’ answers Jack, pecking you on the cheek. ‘Give me five minutes.’

The bed is cold, and you have to steel yourself to burrow into the icy cocoon of the thick covers, missing Jack’s warmth. He doesn’t make you wait long, re-appearing in just boxers, and a big box in hand, switching off all but the bedside lights.

Sliding under the duvet, he yelps when your icy feet tangle into his longer legs, making you laugh. His bare skin heats you up instantly as he wraps one arm around you and pulls you into his broad chest. You feel him hum when he asks, ‘You want to go first, darlin’?’

Blinking up at him, you answer nervously, ‘No - you first.’

He pushes the box your way and you sit up, pretending to shake the package to gauge what’s inside. Jack chuckles, his strong forearms dark against the beige quilt wrapped around his middle. Only his fingers give away his nerves, picking at loose threads in the fabric as you carefully unravel the wrapping paper.

Lifting the lid of the box, your lips part and you stare wordlessly at what’s inside.

‘Jack,’ you breathe. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Gently, you pull out the cowboy hat in tan suede, the smell of fresh leather comforting as you turn it over in your grasp, marvelling at the craftsmanship in the dips and swells of the construction.

‘Try it on, darlin’,’ he says, his shoulders relaxing in relief at your reaction.

You do, and of course, it fits perfectly. Shuffling onto your knees, you crawl closer to kiss him fully on the lips, tilting your head to the side so that his face fits under the brim of your hat. ‘Thank you, I love it.’

Jack arches an eyebrow. ‘You might want to check the box again, darlin’.’

Sitting back on your haunches, you send him an almost accusatory look. ‘You can’t give me two presents, cowboy.’

He shrugs with an insolent grin. ‘I’m a grown man, I’ll do what I like. ‘

Your eyes alight on the black velvet case at the bottom of the box, and you draw it out with careful fingers as if it will break. With one last glance at Jack, you gingerly lift the lid, feeling the hinges creak.

Jack watches you closely, his own breathing suspended as you stare down into your hands, thoughts whirring in his head. Is it too much, too soon? Is he comin’ on too strong? Would you even like it?

After the longest ten seconds of his life, you look up at him with soft eyes and brows drawn, a crack in your voice. ‘Jack.’

He gives you a lopsided smile and reaches for the box. ‘I went back to the same silversmith who made my belt buckle and asked him to make this.’

The chain is delicate in his big, weathered hands. It takes him a couple of tries, but he eventually manages to pry open the hinge of the clasp and holds out the necklace towards you in a question. ‘May I, darlin’?’

Turning around, the bed dips behind you as Jack shifts closer, cool silver kissing your décolletage as he fastens the clasp behind your neck. Your gaze drops downwards, the tip of your index finger testing the weight of the solid sterling pendant in the shape of a flask, Statesman emblazoned in delicate lettering -

A much smaller but exact copy of his belt buckle.

His words draw you out of your thoughts. ‘You like it?’

‘I love it,’ you correct him, twisting around to tackle him into the mattress, your knees around his waist as you loom over him, knocking off your hat so you can kiss him properly. ‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’

The pendant dangles from your neck, tickling him on the chin as he winds one big hand into your hair, his eyes following as it sways. ‘It looks good on you, darlin’.’

The warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest starts to recede as your eyes land on the present you got for him on the bed. The giddiness you felt when you found it is a distant dream, instead, anxiety threatens to take root deep in your head. If you got something from Amazon tonight, is there any chance that they could deliver tomorrow -

‘Darlin’. You’re thinking too loudly,’ says Jack soothingly, chucking you gently under your chin. ‘What’s wrong?’

You shake your head. ‘I got you a really stupid present. Let’s forget about it - I’ll get you something else.’

His brows draw together in concern as he grabs your wrists and pulls you flush against his chest so that there’s nowhere else to look but at him. ‘Don’t say that, there’s no such thing as a stupid present. Whatever you got me, I’m sure I’ll love it.’

You inhale deeply, chewing your bottom lip. ‘You mentioned a few weeks ago that your leather jacket and fleeces are too bulky and it’s hard to move around in all the layers when it's cold.’

He nods encouragingly. ‘That I did.’

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you reach out and drag the package towards him. ‘Well, I saw this at my local shop, and thought it might help.’

Jack gives you a reassuring smile and leans back into the pillows, grabbing the present excitedly. He pulls you against his side, as if he’s trying to squeeze all the self-doubt out of you, the gift draped across your laps as he starts to unwrap it.

You’re a bundle of jitters when he rips off the wrapping paper with impatient fingers, and the lightweight and puffy blue fabric comes into view.

Jack shakes out the neatly folded one-piece. ‘Is it - a ski suit?’

You nod and point out the black contrasting detailing on the front of the suit. ‘It's light and it's warm. Look at the western design with the single point pockets - I couldn’t not get it for you.’

Jack chuckles, the sound warming you as his arm tightens around your shoulders. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. So simple, yet so clever.’

‘You like it?’ you ask in the smallest voice.

‘I love it,’ he grins, drawing you in for another kiss. ‘Thank you, darlin’.’

Finally assuaged, you sag against him, a yawn creeping up on you as the tension in your body recedes. ‘You want to try it on now?’

Tucking you in, he says, ‘I’ll try it tomorrow, it’s been a long day for you, darlin’.

Putting your hat and his ski suit on the bedside table, Jack turns off the light, his body immediately seeking out yours under the sheets, claiming every inch of you with a leg between your thighs, front plastered to your back, palms under your ratty pyjamas top, splayed across your naked skin.

It’s been too long.

Nose tucked behind your ear, his arms full of you - finally here after months of feeling your phantom weight in his embrace - the night slips away as the snow falls outside.

It’s too warm under the covers when you wake up, even though Jack’s side of the bed is empty. You stretch lazily, the clock reads 8am but the fire is still going strong, he must have stoked it when he got up.

You decide to make some coffee and wait for him to come back before venturing to the communal kitchen for breakfast. While the water boils, you smile as you fiddle with the necklace sitting on your chest, warm and reassuring against your skin.

The smell of caffeine fills the cabin as you sip from your mug, and before long, you hear Jack stomping up the stairs, humming a country tune in his raspy baritone as he approaches the door.

Pouring him a steaming cup, you say, ‘Hey, I made you some coffee -’

You trail off when you turn around.

Your morning brain can’t quite grasp the picture in front of you. Jack’s still wearing his cowboy hat, his nose red from the cold. Vaguely, you realise he’s wearing the present you gifted him - and you congratulate yourself on the fact that it fits him like a damn glove.

The ski suit accentuates his broad shoulders and tapers in at his waist in a flattering cut, the zipper drawn all the way up to the hollow of his throat. He’s replaced the detachable belt that came with the ski suit with his own, the flask bottle buckle popping against the blue.

But the bottom half - that you have trouble comprehending. It takes you a beat longer to realise why.

He’s wearing full-length cowboy chaps over it.

Chaps are essentially leather trousers with the seat cut out, and Jack's wearing them with his belt looped through the straps. You know he only uses them when it’s muddy, to keep his jeans clean. He didn’t wear them at all on your pack trip, but you’ve seen a peek on Facetime in the rainy months in between. And now that you're seeing them in person, you decide that like them - a lot.

Your gaze, slow as molasses despite being completely unburdened by shame, slides all the way down to the triangle of blue framed by the negative space in the brown chaps where - for the lack of a better expression - his prominent endowment hangs heavy at the apex of his strong thighs. Not that you’re trying to look, but you can see the very heft of him through the fabric.

Jesus H. Christ. It’s too fucking early to be sinning.

When Jack realises that you’re staring, he says somewhat apologetically, clearly oblivious to the merry tangent your mind has gone off on. ‘Sorry, I know I’m not meant to wear it this way, but I didn’t want to get it dirty -’

You shake your head hastily. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s - perfect.’

Something breathless in your tone catches his ear, and he tilts his head to the side, one large hand coming to rest on his hip, thick fingers spread obnoxiously wide over the side of the chaps. The beginning of a cocky smile lifts the corner of his mouth. ‘Yeah, darlin’? You like it?’

Leaving your mug on the counter top, you bite your lip and give him your best teasing grin. ‘Why don’t you turn around so I can take a better look, cowboy?’

He arches an eyebrow at your boldness, but decides to indulge you. Voice dropping an octave, he rasps, ‘Better take a seat for this, darlin’.’

You grin and do as you’re told, turning the kitchen chair around so that you’re facing him, running your eyes up and down his frame as he steps into your space, narrow hips swaying to a beat you can’t hear. Hooking his thumbs into his belt, he suddenly turns with a dramatic flourish and arches his back, granting you an unrivalled view of his behind framed by the chaps cut off at the top of his thighs, the ski suit tight against his pert bottom.

‘Enjoy the view, darlin’?’ he asks, grinning over his shoulder at you.

You swat him on one cheek playfully, and when he swoops suddenly into your lap in a classic burlesque move, you squeal, ‘Jack!’

Bending his knees, he grinds into your thighs as you laugh, the ski suit soft on your skin while the leather chaps scrape against your bare shins. Turning around, he reaches up to tug the suit’s zipper downwards in a slow, deliberate course, and he purrs, ‘What say you if ol’ cowboy Jack gives you a proper show, hmm?’

You inhale sharply as the white wife beater underneath comes into view, and you reach up to help him push one side of the ski suit off his shoulder, revealing the firm line of his left arm.

‘Thought that was more of Teak’s thing,’ you quip, licking your lips as your eyes skim down his front to settle on the weighty bulge now straining against the front of the suit, your eager fingers pulling him closer by his belt buckle.

Gripping the edge of the table, he traps you into your seat, his stare dropping to the matching pendant resting on your now heaving bosom, taking in your blown pupils as he grins. ‘Anythin’ for you, darlin’.’

‘Aren’t I the luckiest girl,’ you muse, taking off his hat and flinging it onto the table, his hungry stare alone pinning you in place when you drag him down to you by his lapels.

Warm lips part yours and he delves into your mouth, kissing you deeply. The promise of more leaves you chasing him as he draws back with a drawl. ‘You’re about to get a whole lot luckier, darlin’.’

The thick material of the ski suit is almost pillowy as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. It rubs gently on your nipples as you rock against Jack, arms wound around his neck while his desperate hands cup and knead the plump swell of your ass, dragging you up and down his hard cock.

‘That’s it, you’re ridin' me beautifully, darlin’,’ he growls into your ear, exhaling hot and heavy as he nips your collar bone. ‘Missed you so much.’

His chaps are slippery under your bare thighs from your slick, and you clench at the sensation of being completely naked on top of him when he’s still fully clothed, only his belt and zipper undone so that he can fuck up into you, the rickety kitchen chair groaning under the weight of the two of you.

‘Missed you too,’ you whisper against his lips, crying out when he hits a particularly deep spot inside you. ‘Yes, yes, harder, Jack.’

Leaning forward, he takes one breast into his hot mouth, one eye on your necklace that’s sticking to your sweaty skin before licking you between your tits and over the silver pendant, the salt sharp on his tongue. He hums, ‘You wear it so well.’

‘I won’t take it off, ever,’ you swear, throwing your head back when he scrapes his teeth against the column of your neck, so full of him that your knees quake.

‘Good,’ growls Jack, thrusting harder into you, making your breath stutter. ‘Keep me with you, darlin’ - always.’

You smile, fingers curled into his hair, stealing a tender moment as your noses bump and eyes meet with the easiest promise you will ever keep. ‘Always.’

Notes: Am I allowed to pick favourites? I'm not? I'm doing it anyway -- this is my favourite out of all the holiday fics, no question! I'm so soft for cowboy Jack and his darlin' 🥹 We've been spending time with just the two of them so far in the series, so it was really fun to explore the group situations, especially with the Kingsman involved!

I hope you enjoyed this fluffy interlude. Wishing you all a very merry Christmas and thank you so much for reading ❤️

#jack daniels x you #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x f!reader #kingsman golden circle #fuckyeahholidays #‘tis palomino season

[morallyinept]

A list of all my favourite PEDRO CHARACTER FESTIVE FIC RECS, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.

PART 1 | PART 2 HERE | PART 3 HERE

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

Includes festive themed stories from previous years, as well as current. Will be added to as more are released.

Happy Reading! 🖤🎄

MIXED PEDRO BOYS MASTERLISTS:

12 Days Of XXX-Mas Stories Masterlist - @morallyinept

12 Days Of Pedro - @hellishjoel

Christmas Countdown - @pedroshotwifey

A Merry Fic-Mas - @ladamedusoif

12 Days Of Pedromas - @yeollie-plz

Pedro Pascal Advent Calendar - @softpascalito

Christmas Writing Challenge 2021 - @musings-of-a-rose

Winter Writing Challenge - @nobedofroses

December 500 - @trulybetty

8 Days Of Christmas 2022 - @guess-my-next-obsession

Christmas Writing Challenge 2023 - @pintsizemama

SINGULAR PEDRO BOY MASTERLISTS:

Dincember 2023 - @dindjarindiaries Din Djarin

Cowboycember 2023 - @anabdaniels Agent Whiskey

Daddycember 2023 - @whiskeynwriting Agent Whiskey

Holi-Dave Masterlist - @wildemaven Dave York

Domestic December - @clawdeewritesfanfic Dave York

DBF!Joel Miller Holiday Masterlist - @joelsgreys Joel Miller

It's Consent Season 2022 - @fuckyeahdindjarin Dieter Bravo

Single Dad Frankie Christmas Series - @pintsizemama Frankie Morales

DIETER BRAVO:

Sleazy Santa - @morallyinept

Sweet, Sweet Icing - @palioom

Baby, It's Cold Outside - @theywhowriteandknowthings

Jingle My Bells - @joels-shitty-puns

I Crawl Home To Her - @chronically-ghosted

We Fall Like Snow Series - @psychedelic-ink

JOEL MILLER:

Foot Prints - @sin-djarin

A Very Furby Christmas - @proxima-writes

Traditions - @mandoisapunk

'Tis The Damn Season - @jksprincess10

The Tree - @bluestar22x

All I Wanted - @fhatbhabie

I'll Be Home For Christmas - @punkshort

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus - @thetriumphantpanda

DAVE YORK:

Meet The Yorks - @foli-vora

Christmas Affair - @absurdthirst

FRANKIE MORALES:

A New Tradition With Frankie - @nerdieforpedro

Coming Under The Christmas Tree - @undercoverpena

Secret Santa - @frenchiereading

Candy Cane - @cerridwen007

JAVIER PEÑA:

That's what I Want For Christmas - @heythere-mel

Kiss Me Till I'm Warm - @chronically-ghosted

Home With You - @sp00kymulderr

DIN DJARIN:

A Slice Of Life Day - @linzels-blog

Mistletoe - @boliv-jenta

A Sprig Of Silver & Blue - @all-the-things-2020

Competing For Christmas - @something-tofightfor

MARCUS PIKE:

Our Last Christmas Series - @supernaturalgirl20

Where The Love Light Gleams Series - @themand0lorian

AGENT WHISKEY:

A Palomino Christmas - @fuckyeahdindjarin

MISC. CHARACTERS:

If Only In My Dreams - @mishasminion360 Zach Wellison

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #dieter bravo x reader #javier pena x reader #marcus pike x readeer #agent whiskey x reader #dave york x reader #din djarin x reader #christmas stories #festive fic recs #jett's fic recs #fic recs

[blakeboldt-blog]

Best Albums of 2022

“Farm to Table,” Bartees Strange.

“Kingmaker,” Tami Neilson.

“River Fools & Mountain Saints,” Ian Noe.

“Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You,” Big Thief.

“Be-Bop!” Pasquale Grasso + "Linger Awhile," Samara Joy.

“Topical Dancer,” Charlotte Adigéry and Bolis Pupul.

“SOS," SZA. 

“Lucifer on the Sofa,” Spoon. 

“Un Verano Sin Ti,” Bad Bunny. 

“Angel in Realtime,” Gang of Youths.

“A Beautiful Time,” Willie Nelson.

“Big Time,” Angel Olsen. 

“Crooked Tree,” Molly Tuttle & the Golden Highway. 

“One Day,” The Cactus Blossoms.  

“White Trash Revelry,” Adeem the Artist. 

“Ashley McBryde Presents: Lindeville,” Ashley McBryde.

“Teeth Marks,” S.G. Goodman.

“Bummer Year,” Good Looks.  

“I Walked with You a Ways,” Plains.

“MOTOMAMI,” Rosalía. 

“Renaissance,” Beyoncé.

“Once Twice Melody,” Beach House.

“A Light for Attracting Attention,” The Smile.  

“Sometimes, Forever,” Soccer Mommy.

“Blue Rev,” Alvvays. 

“Blue Skies,” Dehd.

“ILYSM,” Wild Pink. 

“And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow,” Weyes Blood.

“View with a Room,” Julian Lage.

“Preacher’s Daughter,” Ethel Cain.

“Carry Me Home,” Mavis Staples & Levon Helm.

“Feel Like Going Home,” Miko Marks & the Resurrectors.

“It Was a Home,” Kaina.

“Dripfield,” Goose.

“Painless,” Nilüfer Yanya. 

“Natural Brown Prom Queen,” Sudan Archives. 

“Warm Chris,” Aldous Harding.  

“Humble Quest,” Maren Morris.

“Weather Alive,” Beth Orton.

“Bell Bottom Country,” Lainey Wilson.  

“Multitude,” Stromae. 

“Fossora,” Bjork. 

“We’ve Been Going About This All Wrong,” Sharon Van Etten.

“Just Like That,” Bonnie Raitt.  

“Dawn FM,” The Weeknd.

“This Is a Photograph,” Kevin Morby.

“Pink Moon,” Pink Sweat$.

"Born Pink,” Blackpink. 

“Gifted,” Koffee. 

“Kumoyo Island,” Kikagaku Moyo + “Gung Ho,” KOLUMBO.

“Optimism,” Jana Horn + “Classic Objects,” Jenny Hval.

“Pompeii,” Cate Le Bon.

“Wild Loneliness,” Superchunk.

“Scalping the Guru,” Guided by Voices.

“Palomino,” Miranda Lambert.

“Summer at Land’s End,” The Reds, Pinks & Purples.

“The Last Thing Left,” Say Sue Me.  

“God Save the Animals,” Alex G. 

“The Tipping Point,” Tears for Fears.

“Labyrinthitis,” Destroyer.

“Special,” Lizzo. 

“The New Faith,” Jake Blount.  

"In These Times," Makaya McCraven.  

“Ugly Season,” Perfume Genius. 

“Emotional Creature,” Beach Bunny.

“Present Tense,” Yumi Zouma.

"Hypnos," Ravyn Levae. 

“Stumpwork,” Dry Cleaning. 

“Me/and/Dad,” Billy Strings. 

“MUNA,” Muna.

"CAZIMI,” Caitlin Rose.

“SPARK,” Whitney.

“Midnights,” Taylor Swift. 

“Stress Dreams,” Greensky Bluegrass.

“Only the Strong Survive,” Bruce Springsteen. 

“Wet Leg,” Wet Leg.

“Three Dimensions Deep,” Amber Mark.

“Experts in a Dying Field,” The Beths.

“Laurel Hell,” Mitski. 

“The Parts I Dread,” Pictoria Vark. 

"Take It Like a Man,” Amanda Shires. 

“God’s Work,” LeAnn Rimes. 

“Loose Future,” Courtney Marie Andrews.

“12th of June,” Lyle Lovett.

“Few Good Things,” Saba.  

“The Hometown Kid,” Gabe Lee. 

“Give or Take,” Giveon.

"Life on Earth," Hurray for the Riff Raff.

"Earthlings," Eddie Vedder.

“Giving the World Away,” Hatchie.

“The Man from Waco,” Charley Crockett. 

“Mr. Sun,” Little Big Town. 

“Gemini Rights,” Steve Lacy.

“Married in a Honky Tonk,” Jenny Tolman. 

“Pigments,” Dawn Richard & Spencer Zahn.

“Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven?” Tyler Childers.

“Dance Fever,” Florence and the Machine.

“It’s Almost Dry,” Pusha T. 

“Going Places,” Josh Rouse + “Heartmind,” Cass McCombs.

"100 Proof Neon," Ronnie Dunn. 

[twdmusicboxmystery]

5x03: Humbug’s Gulch

Hi everyone! I’m just gonna dive right in today. ***As always, spoilers abound in this post for FTWD 5x03. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

This episode of FTWD (5x03: Humbug’s Gulch) was awesome! I loved watching it because there were so many important symbols and set ups. I'm loving where this is going.

So, we start with our group traveling around, trying to take down all of the Red Rover walkers and marking where they are on a map. As they mark them, they realize that it's a perimeter of walkers tied up around an area of land in the center. They have no idea what's inside the perimeter of walkers. So, kind of an intriguing mystery.

One of the first symbols that caught my attention was that when they mark the locations of the walkers on the map, use Xs inside of circles. (X Theory.) It would only be that, if it had only been Xs. But they drew an X within a circle. Remember, we saw this exact symbol around Morgan on a tree in Coda. What that tells me is that 

1) whatever's going on in the season, we can connect it to Coda. That's number one. And

2) whatever they’re planning for Morgan in the season has been planned since Coda and S5. That's awesome.

Also, remember the X within the circle is sort of a skewed version of the coda symbol. A coda is more of a T, straight up and down over circle, but the X is like a version of it that’s been turned on its side.

This episode is called Humbug Gulch. 

It’s the name of the Western town they go to, which I’ll talk about more in a minute. But I looked up the meaning of gulch. It can be a V-shaped valley formed by erosion. It may be a small stream or dry creek bed and is usually larger in size than a gully. It just reminded me of the dry riverbed in 5x10, Them. If you keep looking at the definition, it means different things in different places, but is often associated with water. The actual definition of humbug is deception or something that's not true. Which is why Ebenezer Scrooge always said, “Bah, humbug.” It's his way of saying something is ridiculous or that's untrue. And of course, the most famous pop culture reference of the word humbug IS Ebenezer Scrooge saying it. Which makes it a Christmas reference as well. So, we have a reference to Christmas, and something that has to do with water and something we saw in Them.

In terms of the show, the phrase would literally mean ‘deceptive gulch.’ Something about this town they went to is deceptive. The meaning of the title, other than the fact that they went to a place called Humbug Gulch, wasn't obvious. But I’ll come back to this.

They mentioned a gas station when the group talked to each other over the walkie-talkies. John also mentioned their luck turning (Luck Theory). We saw a windmill at the Gulch, much like the one on Herschel's farm in S2. In most been a common symbol since then, and we usually see it in conjunction with Beth symbolism.

The intro was kind of interesting. It basically just showed a wind storm and a rolling tumbleweed. I wasn't sure what that meant. But as we get into the episode, John and June do have to wait at a windstorm. So, the reason for that became obvious as the episode progressed. Then we heard just a snippet of a voice on the radio. There was a lot of radio talk in this episode, and what happened at the end had a lot to do with speaking over the radio. When I heard that in the intro, it reminded me a lot of the phantom voice we heard at the end of TWD 9x16. I don't know for supposed to be connecting those, but I couldn't help but hear similarity there.

So, we had a heavy similarity here to 6X16. While attempting to take down one of the rows of Red Rover walkers, someone starts firing on John and June. They jump into their car and run for it. They ended up going to a little Western town called Humbug Gulch. This is one of those Western tourist attractions. Apparently, John used to work at one—not this specific one, but another one in a different city—so he knew what it was. Even though it was a tourist place, he knew they’d find real guns there.

I totally didn't register this on my first watch, but when the re-watch came on, I heard it, and my mouth dropped open. Right before he being shot at, John remarks that there must be some “serious people” behind these this perimeter walkers. June then says, "We’re serious people too." When they jump in the car, John says his line again about these being serious people. Obviously a Sirius/Dog Star reference, and it’s repeated three different times.

I’ll jump forward to mention that we saw Dwight in this episode. At this point we can't prove the Sirius reference isn’t about Dwight and Sherry, but I don't think the two of them necessarily qualify. They didn’t go out of their way to make the audience think either one was dead. In fact, they kind of went out of their way to set up this story of Dwight searching for Sherry, which suggests the opposite. I'm really hoping this means is that something about this arc will lead to the original character associated with Sirius symbolism. (Beth).

They get to the town, and we see some more interesting resurrection symbols. There’s a carousel with bright yellow horses with blue saddles that the camera focuses on for a minute. There’s also a light colored horse statue. (Looks like a palomino.) So, horse theory. And the light colored horse represents Beth and resurrection (“You’re still alive.”)

John leads them upstairs to a gun locker. June picks the lock. Inside, they find guns and ammunition. @wdway noticed little tins, two green and three yellow (both Beth colors) inside of it. Even more exciting, we see ammunition for .45 colt. Remember that issue 45 of the CBs is the one where Andrea is resurrected from the dead.

We also saw an “Exit” sign over the door, which reminded us of the one in Beth’s cell in 4x01. And the bag June carries out of the building has a B on it. Just saying. ;D

They had all kinds of fun with their Western themes in this episode. It was a really obvious old West/Outlaw/Sheriff kind of situation. So that alone is significant. John and June get the guns, but a windstorm picks up. June wants to wait it out, but John doesn't. He wants to make a run for their van and try to get back to the group. We thought John's bandanna looked an awful lot like Daryl's black bandanna from season four. An interesting callback, given all the other symbols.

When they make a run for the car, the phantom shooter starts firing at them again. John eventually comes face-to-face with him and June hits him over the head. Guess who? Dwight.

We've known we’d see Dwight this season, but I was still excited to see him. His first question to John is, "Where is she?" Naturally, John has no idea who he's asking about, but we, the viewers do. We know he's looking for Sherry.

Random detail, but I have to say I think it's adorable that John calls June, “June Bug.”

As I said, we saw something of a replay of 6x06, Always Accountable (major Beth symbolism episode). We had John and June doing their own thing, and then phantom people started shooting at them. That's exactly what happened to Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham at the beginning of 6x06. They were returning from Operation Lead the Walkers Away, and were fired on by unseen people. In that case, it was the saviors who fired at them, looking for Dwight. Then, in the same episode just a little while later, Daryl met Dwight. Here, it was Dwight (previously a Savior) who fired on John and June. Only a few minutes later, in the same episode, they met Dwight. Don’t tell me episode parallels aren’t a thing, y’all. ;D

In the next scene, we see a deer crossing sign. Yet another indication of possibly someone coming back from the dead. Again, this COULD be a Sherry and Dwight thing, but I’m not convinced of that. Unlike with Glenn, Rick, and Beth, they haven't gone out of their way to make us think either Sherry or Dwight died. They merely disappeared from TWD.  Also, keep in mind that this wasn't an actual deer that we saw get shot. It was a deer crossing sign. It may not represent an actual resurrection, not like the deer we saw around Rick in 5x12. But it's a symbol of the resurrection arc. I'm interpreting it as something about Dwight in this arc leading to a resurrection.

Another call back to 6x06 comes when Dwight wakes up. He basically has the same conversation with John and June that he had with Daryl in 6x06, protesting that he held the gun to their heads and he didn't understand why they would help them after that. 

He said that same thing to Daryl in 6x06, about how he tied Daryl up and put a gun to his head and kept prisoner overnight, yet Daryl still came back to help them. Lots of callbacks to a Bethyl-heavy episode.

We also see lots of infinity symbols here because of Sherry’s notes. And granted, we saw them between Dwight and Sherry before, so it’s nothing new. But still interesting, all things considered.

I also think it's interesting the way they set this up. Because John looked for June (they are also Bethyl proxies) John completely understands the lengths Dwight will go to to find Sherry. He's probably the one person in the world who would have given Dwight a break over this and even helped him find Sherry. I’m just saying the crossing of Dwight’s and John/June’s stories required a lot of planning and has probably been in the works for some time. I’m positive when the writers wrote John and June’s story for last season, they already knew the two of them would cross paths with Dwight/Sherry.

We noticed John and June played piano music to distract the walkers so they could escape. Not only a musical reference, but we can tie it to 4x01, in which they used music to lure the walkers way from the Big Spot. And of course Beth specifically played the piano in 4x13, Alone.

Rather than escaping to his car with June and John, Dwight ran to their van, which by then he'd shot the tires out of. They talk to him on the walkie and he finally admits that Sherry has left messages for him as she travels. The last one he found was written on the registration for a van that looks exactly like the one John and June were driving. That's why he opened fire on them in the first place. He thought that was the car Sherry one drove, which was why she left a note for him on the registration.

Okay, this gets super-interesting at this point. Look at this scene with Dwight in the van. Remind you of anything? 

It looks exactly like the scene where Aaron and Daryl got caught in the wolf van in 5x16. 

Walkers all around trying to get in, him trapped with no way out, and then Dwight has a moment where he more or less gives up.

He basically tells John to go on without him, giving up both on the idea of getting out alive, and on his search for Sherry. This is a combination of a couple of things. We could compare it to Daryl in 5x16. They had no way out and Daryl insisted on sacrificing himself so Aaron could get away. He was willing to die right then to save Aaron. Maybe even wanted to die because he was still so down about Beth. Of course, Aaron insisted that they would work together to get out, and then Morgan—*clears throat* MORGAN!!!*—saves them.

Something similar happened here. Dwight is alone in the car. He gives up, even looking at his gun as though he might shoot himself, but John and June talk him out of it. June tells him that giving up his search for Sherry would be just as ethically wrong as hurting someone. I think it's interesting that it's June—the once missing woman—who convinces the depressed man not to give up. Very Beth-ish. Then they help Dwight escape the van by shooting the walkers and creating a clear path for him. Much like Morgan did for Daryl and Aaron in 5x16.

Some of the dialogue was also important there. June says Dwight doesn’t feel like he deserves to find her and find happiness again. Dwight says it doesn’t matter if Sherry is alive or dead, because he’ll never find her. Never be able to make things right. He says that’s “who I am now.” Making things right is a callback to what Daryl told him to do in 8x16. I also think this dialogue could apply to Daryl at various times after he lost Beth. Interestingly, “Who You Are Now” is the title of the first episode after Rick disappeared (9x06) so we have a connection between this arc and what’s happening on the main show.

The other thing that this really struck me is that Dwight gets a version of Beth’s suicide arc. It obviously wasn't as long or protracted as hers, but the difference between Dwight in this episode and Daryl in 5x16 is that Daryl tried to sacrifice himself for something noble (saving Aaron). He didn’t simply decide to give up and shoot himself. So, this felt a lot like Beth’s suicide arc in TWD S2. Back then, she really did just want to give up and die. Much like Beth, Dwight came through his depression with a new resolve to live and find Sherry. Again, very Beth-ish.

Another detail I didn’t catch until the second time through? Remember that colt .45 I mentioned earlier, which points to Andrea surviving her gunshot wound in the comics? It was that gun Dwight contemplated killing himself with. John gave it to him to shoot walkers. Coincidence? Yeah, really not. 

After rescuing him from the van, John tells Dwight he had the wrong car. He compared the VIN number on the registration to van’s VIN number, and they don’t match. Obviously, the make, model, and color of the van are exactly like the one Dwight was looking for, but he just so happened to find the wrong one.

I think all this car stuff is super interesting. Given that we think Beth was left in a car, and that we often see clues in car license place plates and car trunks, it’s just interesting that there's a car arc going on in this season of FTWD. Registrations have lots of numbers and letters in them. And the fact that he found the wrong car? I think that's significant. I wonder if something about this will end up playing out as part of Beth’s arc as well. They left her in the “wrong car” somehow. I have no idea, really, but it’s fun to contemplate the possibilities.

At the end of this episode, Dwight and Morgan meet and recognize one another. Morgan is instantly accepting of Dwight and he officially joins their group. One super-subtle thing I caught here was that Dwight went to Georgia before going to Texas. He just mentions it very briefly in passing, saying “Once she hit Georgia, everything seemed to drive her this way.” 

No way that’s a coincidence. They could spin it many ways. Maybe Dwight already ran into Beth in his travels. Maybe he was wrong about Sherry going to Texas and will eventually return to Georgia. Maybe she’ll head back to Georgia for some reason and he’ll meet up with her then. Either way, this arc is subtly pointing back toward Georgia. And Grady, which we can only assume is still standing.

He tells them that he's never been inside the perimeter of walkers either, but he's walked all around it. He takes them to one particular place where they plan to break through and see what's on the inside. Just before they do, they hear something on the radio.

I haven’t mentioned Alicia’s minor arc this episode because it has less to do with Beth symbolism. She hears the kids they met in the first episode on the radio and keeps calling out to them, promising to help them in asking where they are. At one point, she hears Annie and Dylan talking on the radio, with Annie telling Dylan to hide because she can see “them.” 

We don't know who “them” is. It's definitely interesting because it's the name of episode 5X10, so we could see it as another tie to Beth. It sounds like there are bad people that the kids are running from. In the end, the kids radio and ask Alicia to meet them at the truck stop where Morgan's group originally took them.

So, Morgan’s group doesn’t break through the Red Rover walkers right then, which means we can after little longer to see what's inside the perimeter. 

On the way back to the truck stop, they see the van the kids were driving. Inside, Dylan is laying on the seat. He looks hurt, or perhaps just sad. He’s covered in either mud or blood (probably both) so it’s hard to say how injured he is. But he’s alone. Annie and Max aren’t with him.

The most interesting symbolic thing about this is that we once again have Morgan finding someone inside a car who's hurt. It’s pretty much the biggest symbol of Morgan finding Beth in a car that we have, and we've seen it many times now. Alicia asks Dylan where his brother and sister are, but he doesn't really say anything before the episode ends.

Then it cuts to Max and Annie putting up Red Rover walkers. So, as it turns out, these kids are the ones tying them across the roads. I'm of two minds about what this might mean.

The show implies there's nothing inside the perimeter of walkers. The kids just put them up to keep strangers away from the area. But I don't know if I believe that's true. Maybe these kids are just super- smart, but I don’t see them going to this kind of trouble to protect…nothing. 

I also don’t think they could have put the walker heads up on the billboard by themselves last episode, and there’s still the question of who took Al. I don’t think it was them. In fact, Max says he wants to find out who took Alicia’s friend, so it wasn’t them. So overall, I'm not sure what to make of this yet. But it makes the mystery of this place intriguing and I'm excited to see where it goes.

So once again, we don't know if "them," is really a group of baddies, or just something created by these kids. I'm not even sure which one I hope it is. Having something crazy inside the perimeter of walkers would definitely be a cooler plot twist. But if there's really nothing there, the reference to Them becomes purely symbolic, which is good for us, too. Also, I’m wondering if the “humbug” in the title perhaps refers to the way in which these kids are deceiving Morgan’s group. Not sure how that will pan out yet, but it’s interesting.  

Some final symbols: we saw Max drawing on a map and I noticed it said, “Broken Bridge.” So, not only Bridge Theory, but I feel like that’s a connection to Rick’s bridge in TWD S9.

So yeah, I really loved this episode. Lots of fun set-ups and I'm super excited to see where this arc, both with Dwight and with this perimeter of walkers, goes. Because they used Xs within circles to represent the perimeter of walkers, I really hope whatever is within the perimeter will lead to Beth. Thoughts?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

[ssportsnews]

Solskjaer's luck, Atalanta met in the state of 'Defense collapse' 먹튀검증

먹튀검증먹튀사이트먹튀검증사이트먹튀 검증  먹튀 사이트 먹튀 검증 사이트

Manchester United manager Ole Gunnar Solskjaer has been sacked. The defeat of Atalanta was also thanks to Cristiano Ronaldo's comeback goal, but before that, the opposing defense collapsed.

Manchester United defeated Atalanta 3-2 in the 2021-2022 UEFA Champions League Group F match at Old Trafford, Manchester, England on the 21st (Korean time). Manchester United lead the group with 2 wins and 1 loss. Atalanta remained in third place with points tied with Villarreal with 1 win, 1 draw and 1 loss.

It was a great victory for Manchester United. Atalanta took the lead with goals from Mario Pasalić in the 15th minute and Merrih Demiral in the 29th minute. United took the lead in the 8th minute, with Marcus Rashford scoring in the 8th minute, Harry Maguire in the 30th minute and Ronaldo scoring consecutive goals in the 36th minute of the second half.

In the first half, Atalanta showed more efficient football, but there were unsettling factors. Football, in which the two teams frantically exchange balls, was Atalanta's specialty, but key player Merrih Demiral showed signs of injury. Demiral not only scored a header from a corner kick, but also made a perfect stoppage when Rashford and others entered the door with a fantastic tackle. But Demiral sometimes limped his leg by touching the back of his thigh.

In the end, at the beginning of the second half, Demiral was gone and the candidate centre-back Mateo Lovato was put in, and Atalanta quickly collapsed. Atalanta had already suffered a lot of injuries, but the problem was that they concentrated on the defense. The positions of left and right wingbacks Robin Gozens and Hans Hatevoor were filled well by Joachim Mele and Davide Chapacosta. However, as centre-backs Berat Jim City, Rafael Toloy and Demiral were eliminated one after the other, the three-backs were all destroyed. All that remained were Jose Luis Palomino, the least skilled center back among the starting-class centre-backs, Lovato, a promising youngster who had not yet been seen as a full-fledged player this season, and midfielder Marton Duron, who hastily changed his position to centre-back. Even if the number of center backs was insufficient, Hatevoor, who was the first to change his position, did not exist, so the defense of Atalanta was less than 2 bases.

The aftermath of Duron's move to three-back led to a weakening of control in the midfield. Duron is the best defensive player in Atalanta midfield. In difficult matches such as away to Manchester United, the weight is greater. However, as Duron moved to the defender, the midfield was formed by Remo Freiler and Tott Koffmeiners. In particular, the newly recruited Koffmeiners is an aggressive player who drives the ball for a long time and aims to score directly. He hadn't gotten used to Atalanta's frantic attack speed yet. Scenes in which Koffmeiners allowed a counterattack after being taken away while keeping the ball unnecessary, and scenes in which he could not take a defensive position in a conceded situation were repeated.

As Atalanta suffered their first defeat in the group stage, Group F had neither an absolute strong nor an absolute weaker. The difference between first place Manchester United (6 points) and fourth place Young Boys (3 points) is only one game, and Young Boys has directly defeated Manchester United. It is the group with the smallest point difference between the leader and the last among the eight UCL groups.

#먹튀검증 #먹튀검증사이트 #먹튀사이트

[bancystudios2-blog]

Michael Igafo-Te’o here: I did this piece of “Phineas and Ferb” fan art showing Linda Flynn-Fletcher and Candace Flynn in their prototype 1994 designs and, to go with these two, I drew Jeremy Johnson in his (rumored) 1994 design and I imagined what Jeremy would’ve looked like if Disney approved Dan and Swampy’s “Phineas and Ferb” cartoon series for ABC Saturday Morning and Disney Channel and Toon Disney (now Disney XD) from Late June 1994 to Early July 2002 in four seasons just like the actual “Phineas and Ferb” cartoon series ran on Disney XD and Disney Channel from 2007 to 2015 in four seasons! However, about this fan art drawing, well, I did this drawing in rough construction lines on a sheet of letter-sized Acme-punched animation paper using some blue Prismacolor Col-Erase pencils, tied down the rough sketch with Palomino Blackwing Pencils then placed a clean sheet of letter-sized Acme-punched animation paper over the rough drawing to trace the drawing as a clean-up drawing using black PaperMate Flair non-permanent felt-tip ink pens and black ultra-fine Sharpie permanent markers then I scanned the clean-up drawing into Adobe Photoshop (nearly weeks after joining the Photoshop bandwagon in Late October 2017!) and digitally inked and painted the drawing in Photoshop and placed a pale blue-green backdrop behind the three characters and, viola! Here’s the completed Phineas and Ferb fan art drawing that I did, fellers!!

#Phineas and Ferb #Disney Television Animation #2D Traditional Hand-Drawn Animation #disney fan art #disney fandom #90s disney #disney xd #canderemy #linda flynn-fletcher #disney afternoon #cartoon fan art #cartoon fandom

[3one3]

The Sequel - 798

Memory Lane

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Pour the water in for him a little at a time. He knows how to whisk. Here, Munchkin. Stir. Remember how to stir? Do it slow so you don’t splash.”

“Watch your face. The water is very hot.”

Please don’t make a tremendous chocolate mess, Christina thought as soon as she turned around from the kitchen counter, eyes squeezed tight and fists clenched. Letting Lukas whisk boiling water and a great deal of cocoa powder had more than just potential to turn into a disaster. It was practically guaranteed. Leaving Juan in charge of the process was little assurance that it would go well. The Spaniard was hardly a baker, or babysitter for that matter. But the boys wanted cake. She pushed the button on the food processor to reduce her turbinado sugar to dust, and took comfort in the loud noise. Whatever accidents were happening behind her, she couldn’t hear them, so she could pretend they weren’t happening.

Juan came over to the house on Thursday afternoon to hang out because Christina wanted to see him but also wanted to hang out with Lukas after riding and teaching all day. She tried to think of something fun they could all do together because having coffee with the grown-up on the couch while the little one played by himself, or playing with the little one while the big one just watched and talked, wasn’t that fair to either of them. Cooking was something they could all participate in, and the minute she uttered “like a cake or something”, two blue-eyed boys got excited. The blonde one in particular loved making anything that sounded like cake. Pancakes, cupcakes, regular cake- all were fun for him because he got to crack eggs. Breaking stuff was his favorite. Picking shells out of the eggs was not his mom’s favorite, but moms have to make sacrifices. The brown-haired one was into the eating of cake, so everyone was satisfied.

“Do we add the flour in next?” that one inquired when the loud sound of the food processor ceased.

“No. Whisk in two teaspoons of the vanilla extract. Hang on- I’ll get it.” Christina left the sugar to get the little bottle of extract for him because she didn’t want him to have to step away from Lukas, who was standing on a stool. It was virtually guaranteed that he’d either fall on the floor or climb on the counter if left unattended. But first she had to stop to sing into the bottle of olive oil. Apple Music’s 90’s Pop Radio was playing throughout the house. Specifically, Natalie Imbruglia’s hit “Torn” was playing. The rider with vivid memories of hearing that song at the barn 900 times per day when she was doing ponies had to belt the first chorus in dramatic fashion. “Nothing’s fine, I’m torn! I’m all out of faith, this is how I feel. I’m cold and I am shamed, lying naked on the floor. Illusion never changed, into something real. I’m wide-awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn! You’re a little late. I’m already tooooorn.” The toddler with the whisk held his implement up to his face like a microphone too, and smiled and laughed at his mom’s animated singing and emotive dancing. The footballer laughed at her too when she slipped on her knee socks and almost went splat on her face.

“How are you a professional athlete? How are you one of the top ranked riders in the world? How do you earn millions doing physical activity?” he teased as she fanned her face, post-slip-recovery.

“I keep telling you people. It’s the horses. I don’t do shit. Mix this in there and bring him and the bowl over to the stand mixer, por favor.” The klutzy baker tried to remain stationary and stable on her feet for a minute while she measured flour. She hardly ever wore socks in the house. The appeal of the song and the associated nostalgia was too much. Christina had to keep dancing. It took her back to right before she first really blew up as an enviable and sought after pony rider. That was also right before she started to see riding as work instead of just fun, and before there was no free time anymore.

A specific memory stood out- reason unknown. She recalled being in the boarder barn at a facility about 40 minutes from home in after school traffic, Smith School of Horsemanship. It had been there for decades. Many of Long Island’s best professionals came up through there, and it was definitely the foremost summer day camp for kids who rode and even those who didn’t. In her day it wasn’t exactly a beacon of elite level training anymore. It was mostly a lesson barn, with a ton of school horses, and those lessons- for people who didn’t have their own horses- took precedence over the 10 or so students who boarded their horses there. That group included one of Christina’s good friends who had been to a lot of different barns with a bunch of different trainers. They met in the Hamptons because the other girl’s dad had a house out there and they kept her pony at one of the top places for a while, and Christina went out there now and then to ride a green pony for one of her trainer’s friends. The girl’s mother lived right by “SSH” and eventually they moved her pony there. That facility also had tons of horse shows. They had fall, winter, and spring circuits that were pretty well attended. It was one of the nicer local shows that even top people went to when they weren’t on the road. Because their summer camp was so big and they needed to have many lessons going on at once, they had lots of rings. Lots of rings makes for good horse shows. Christina showed there a million times.

She remembered being in the boarder barn up on the hill between the blue stone ring and trailer parking and the grass area where the food truck always set up. Her friend’s pony, Lily, lived in one of the two parallel aisles. Most of the other boarders were kids who showed too, and on horse show days their aisles somehow turned into a chaotic mess. There were no full service grooms there so the kids and usually their parents had to get the horses ready. All their stuff spilled out around the stall fronts. The barn wasn’t designed for everyone to be using the crossties at once. Show clothes were hanging on blanket bars, folded chairs were leaned up against the sliding doors, grooming boxes were haphazardly left anywhere, field boots sat out waiting for polish, exhibitor numbers were tied to the bars on the doors. Christina could see the details of the mess in her head. It was the opposite of her barn’s way of doing things. Eddie would have a coronary if he walked into an aisle like that, or if their temporary stabling at a show looked that way. His best pupil remembered standing in the aisle, listening to “Torn” for probably the 6th time that day between the car ride over and being in and out of the barn, and overhearing a girl complaining to her parents about how a class was placed.

Her name was Allison and she had a palomino quarter horse that lived next to Lily. His name was Buddy. Buddy was nothing special. He certainly didn’t move well enough to ever pin in a hunter class, and the girl wasn’t particularly great in the tack either, so expecting ribbons in the equitation was sometimes a disappointment. Allison was upset because a bunch of better riders with nicer horses beat her. None of the kids at SSH had an accurate perception of what is good and what isn’t, because they had some trainers there that were basically scamming them. The coaches didn’t have the skills or will to move the kids up and most of the kids didn’t have the money for better animals, so they kept them in low divisions forever and that kind of worked sometimes because the kids were too good for those divisions and could beat the younger and less experienced riders that usually inhabited them. Samantha knew better than that and the trainers there didn’t really know what to do with her as a consequence. She wanted to do bigger and better things. She wasn’t even eligible for some of the things they wanted her to do because she’d won too much at that level already. After a while she stopped going to shows with them and just went by herself.

Christina went with her a couple of times just for fun. She took Spike, and the little girls coached each other. Their moms were their grooms. Between the four of them they’d done the routine enough times to manage without a professional. The commercial shippers all go to the same shows every weekend and they all have pickups at most of the big barns, so Lily shipped with the others going from SSH even though Samantha wasn’t going to use those trainers, and Spike went with the horses going for other trainers from Eddie’s barn. Every time Christina went it was to a show called Country Fair, and they had a series there, meaning the people with the most points in each division at the end of the season got a special award. The funny thing about going to those little fun shows without coaches was that the two girls with the two bay Welsh ponies won everything.

They showed together in the various equitation divisions that they were eligible for, always against the “best” kids from SSH, and they were first and second every time. Usually Christina was first. She was demonstrably better than Samantha, and Spike was at least one class above Lily in terms of quality and movement. Then they did the Children’s Hunter Pony division. Usually Spike showed in the regular Pony Hunter division, but that isn’t offered at smaller shows because there aren’t enough people with nice enough ponies to do it. The jumps are a bit higher than the Children’s. The Children’s is split into Small and Medium ponies, who jump 2’, and Larges, who jump 2’6. Lily was a Medium and Spike was a Large. Sometimes there weren’t enough of each to split at Country Fair and Christina and Samantha had to compete against each other in that too, and again, it was always blues and reds for them. Another girl from Samantha’s barn, Jessica, had a Medium and never did well. It was actually a pony bought from Eddie. It was really difficult and Christina showed him a lot to get him sold. She could make a bad pony look easy. In the end, she went to about half of the shows in the series because they were the ones that fit into her otherwise very busy summer show schedule, and she ended up winning the series champion awards for two equitation divisions and reserve champion for the Children’s because Samantha went to more shows and got more points. She was able to win every time when her friend wasn’t there. This angered the other people at her barn a great deal. Christina and her mom always tried to be nice to those people and clue them into the obvious things they were missing out on, and help them see that their trainers were doing them a disservice, and a bunch of kids from there defected to bigger, better barns after that summer. Two even went to Eddie’s, and suddenly those parents could find the money for Eddie-type horses. Those kids and those parents were mightily irritated to find out when they got there that Christina had three other ponies and actually competed on a much, much higher level normally. They seemed to think they were going there to get on her level and be able to compete against her. They were well behind. One chased her through the ends of their junior careers and never caught up. A lot of it was down to their poor foundation rather than absolute talent.

“Now what?” Juan questioned, drawing her from memory lane back to chocolate cake baking. Her trips down that old road were pretty frequent since making the moving plan with André on Tuesday. His wife kept thinking about how her life was broken up into phases. That summer in her “Torn” memory was the end of the very first phase. The next one stretched through her junior years to the point where her dad went broke. That was her spell as a “professional junior”, really, and where she made her bones in the industry. In a way, that period set the tone for her whole future. After that was the shorter spell between bankruptcy and London, marked with change, sadness, conflict, and then mostly apathy. The London period was full of those things too, but on the whole it was the best period by far. Christina kept thinking back and then thinking forward, and hoping that she wasn’t about to go through another bumper period like the one in which her family went broke, she had to sell her horses, she had to leave college, she struggled to replicate her success as a real professional, her father “died”, and everything grew empty and boring. She kept hoping there wasn’t a pattern- lengthy period of good stuff and happiness, shorter period of the exact opposite, lengthy period of good stuff and happiness, shorter period of the opposite. It was her fear that Dortmund would be that shorter, icky one. And then she began to wonder what the good one would be after that. That was where Juan entered the equation, literally and figuratively.

“I’m going to add eggs, sugar, and olive oil in the mixer and let it run for a few minutes. Luke likes to watch it in there. Actually, you guys can pour the stuff in if you want,” she suggested absently, watching her son already trying to get his face into the empty bowl of the standing mixer. He thought it was a big toy, and he liked the noise it made.

“Are you okay?” her friend asked with a little frown.

“Yeah.” I’m just thinking about whether or not you are going to be the next good spell after the impending bad one, Christina added to herself. What if Dortmund is awful and it leads to the end of me and Schü? Then Juanin’s faith is completely justified, because we all know what would happen next. He’d get that future with me he says he knows is coming. It would all make so much sense, she concluded, thinking almost like one of those apocalypse hysterics who believes society goes through cycles of devastation and mass death. But the rider didn’t want to think like that. First of all, it was simply depressing, and exhausting, and she’d been doing it for days already. Secondly, she wanted to give herself the best possible chance to be happy when she moved. Expecting unhappiness was a bad way to start. She smiled at her friend, made sure all the ingredients were within reach for him, and then started singing again. Ace of Base was on, and she knew every word to “All That She Wants”. That took her back to horse showing too, a few years before her earlier memory, when she was showing Eddie’s niece’s pony at the Hampton Classic. It almost didn’t happen because he got kicked by his turnout buddy right before shipping out there. There was an ugly half-a-horseshoe shaped black mark on his hindquarter in her show pictures. She made sure to draw the line on the memory there, and not drift away in her mind again.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” her Spanish kitchen assistant asked over the sound of the Kitchen Aid and the small child’s nonsensical singing that went with it. He put an arm around her waist and patted the front of her hip on the other side. “You go back and forth between happy and carefree and completely lost in your own world of not happy and carefree right now faster than-“

“Faster than the Chelsea counter attack? Yeah, I know,” she chuckled. “I’m fine. Promise.”

“You can still order me around a kitchen, cariña. It doesn’t have to change that much.” He pecked her cheekbone and definitely thought she was pensive because she was thinking about how they couldn’t hang out as much or in the same way once she moved. There was already a promise made that she and Lukas could stay at Casa Juan whenever they wanted to visit, if the house wasn’t going to be available, or if there wasn’t going to be anything in it to make it inhabitable for visits.

“I knooooow. I was thinking about what to make for dinner though,” Christina fibbed. “Cake is a fine afternoon snack but we can’t eat it for dinner.”

“Says who?”

“The scale.” She poked the player in the meatiest part of his arm and returned his cheek kiss. Getting to the non-Brillo part required standing up on her toes, which wasn’t easy in socks on the slippery floor, and resulted in her kind of leaning on him too. Oh no don’t! Her alert level hit 5 as she felt that hand on her hip start to curl under her shirt, as if Juan were going to take advantage of her momentary loss of balance to tickle her. Her brain made and acted on a plan of self-defense about two seconds after it detected the danger. She used a proper kiss on the mouth to distract him, got her feet under control, and turned back toward the mixer to keep an eye on Lukas. It wasn’t moving fast enough for him to lose a hand if he reached into the bowl, but it sure wouldn’t feel nice for him. What did feel nice was the hug she got from behind from the footballer, and his face over her shoulder next to hers. One small smooch flipped the affection switch.

“I can eat cake for dinner. I exercise for a living.”

“I really wanted to make skirt steak pinwheels with spinach and cheese and sundried tomatoes and yumminess, but they’re best on the grill outside and it’s so cold and it’s fucking snowing.”

“Make them when you come down to Spain, on the charcoal grill. You’re still coming, right?”

“Yeah, I told you that yesterday. Gothenburg to Mallorca to Dortmund. That’s another reason I wanted to stay in tonight. Five more days in this house. That’s it. Then I’m away and strangers are here to put everything in boxes.”

“It’s just a house, cariña. A house that for months and months you have been nothing but sad in. Be careful with how much you get upset about leaving it, or people might think you like having this place to yourself...having a whole life here separate from him...having what you and I have here...”

Christina stepped out of the Spaniard’s clutches and told Lukas it was time to put the chocolate in the mixing bowl. What he said hit too close to home. It was too plausible. For the first time, she had to actually consider what it was about London that she was clinging to. The life she knew there that she kept thinking and saying she was afraid to give up was already largely over. There was no life with André there anymore. For 7 months it was already a different thing. The last thing she wanted her delegates to get in a fight over was what exactly she dreaded leaving behind. A fair number of them would surely argue that it was the autonomy of living alone and being able to spend as much time with Juan as she wanted, indulging in their special relationship- the freedom to stay with him, and to have him stay over, and have him around to do things like bake cakes with her and her son. There was no way her day to day would be the way it was if André were still there, nor would it have ended up that way if not for all the fighting.

Next came the almond flour, and showing the littlest chef how to push the batter down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula while the mixing paddle swirled around in the middle. After that the product of their combined effort went into a springform pan and then the oven. Cake was an hour away. That left plenty of time to clean up the child and the kitchen, and completely ignore everything the footballer said about what Christina was really leaving.

“Now I need a nap,” she declared when everything was wiped and put away and the wire cooling rack was out by the stove for the cake. She plopped on a stool and leaned over to put her head down on the clean counter. Lukas rumbled behind her on his tricycle. The noise made by the wheels on the tile floor made her cringe.

“Lukas and I can’t be trusted to figure out when the cake is finished. You can’t have a nap,” Juan told her. He was ensconced in one of his phones- the “work phone” phone.

“Whatcha dooooing?”

“Looking at my calendar. Which day is your World Cup in Sweden?”

“No idea. Why?”

“If I could come to watch, would you want me to?”

“Mmmm-I dunno.”

“If it’s on Saturday, would it be in the afternoon or in the evening? I was going to go straight to Palma that night since we have the early kickoff. I could go to the horse show, though, and then get on your flight on Sunday.” He glanced up from the very large iPhone screen and cocked one eyebrow at her, as if “I need a nap” wasn’t warning enough that her brain probably couldn’t handle that much critical thinking that quickly. Not only was there a lag in processing exactly what he meant- that he could go keep her company or be her cheering section at the qualifier in Gothenburg instead of enjoying an extra day at his beach house- there was also a lag in determining if she wanted him there or not. Kyle and Stefanie were both showing too, but Lukas was going to be in Germany, so in some ways her entourage was big and some ways small. Dirk’s last good weekend was a small entourage weekend, and his rider took that into consideration when she made plans. If the best thing she could do for her riding was not have Lukas and/or André and/or Juan around, then it was worth going alone. One event wasn’t enough to prove that to her, however. Gothenburg was her last chance to qualify for the final though, so it wasn’t a great weekend for experimentation. “Or I could just keep my plans and see you Sunday night,” the Spaniard chuckled in lieu of a response from the pensive girl.

“Sorry, I was just reviewing what all I have going on there. Let me look at the program,” she muttered while feeling around at the end of the counter for her own phone. Sitting up to look was too much work. He was there with me in Gothenburg last year and I won the Final, so how bad could it be to have him there for a qualifier? Granted, I did all the hard parts before he got there, if you don’t count having to ride the last round 5 seconds after being told via the public address system that my other horse just died as one of the harder elements of that week. “It would either be Saturday night or Sunday afternoon, so you could probably make it either way. And there’s other stuff. I definitely jump on Sunday. I know that for sure. You know wha-“ Christina finally did sit up, and she took a sort of impatient, deep breath, like a reset. “Don’t take this as a complaint about you specifically,” she warned once she was ready to continue, phone in hand. “I don’t get why everyone thinks it only matters to be there for me for the big classes. Like...do you feel any different about having friends or family in the stands for Chelsea/Arsenal than Chelsea/Burnley?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Only because it’s a bigger occasion for them,” Juan smiled. “It’s more special if I score a goal or play well in a derby, or against a top team, so I feel extra proud and happy to do that when people are there to see. It matters for you too, cariña,” he insisted. “I have been with you for less important competitions and when I congratulate you, you brush it off and say “it’s just a whatever, it’s easy and doesn’t count for anything”.”

“Yeah but I don’t necessarily care about showing off in big classes either, to be honest. I don’t think I care at all anymore. I used to really look forward to making everybody proud, like Schü, and the trainers. Then I won everything so regularly that it didn’t feel special anymore. But anyway, that wasn’t my point,” the reigning World Cup Jumping Champion shrugged, unwilling to delve deeper on the subject of what personal success really meant for her just the same as she was unwilling to examine what she thought she was leaving behind in London. “I appreciate when you or Schü are at a show with me because I enjoy the companionship. I like having someone to do stuff with when I’m free, who doesn’t work for me, coach me, train under me, or want to beat me. Support to me is holding my water when I’m busy and sitting with me when I want to watch the others. Let’s seeeeee. Saturday at 6 is a meter-55 thing, and the accumulator at 9, which is fun. Sundaaaaaaay...9 am meter-45, aaaaand...yeah, CSI5*-W Longines FEI World Cup qualifier, 3:30.” Christina read, formally, the last bit of the Gothenburg Horse Show Schedule in her posh and snooty English accent, for no particular reason other than she had a habit of doing accents when she got overtired. “SEK 1,700,000. What’s Swedish money in Euros?”

“Significantly less money,” her friend winked.

“Bummer. Hey. You know what else is a bummer? I feel like I complain about this every year but it’s true every year, so- anyway- I have only done 5* qualifiers for this and there will be people at the Final who qualify from only 1* events. I don’t even know what a 1* event looks like. How is that fair? North America doesn’t even have a 5* qualifier on their calendar for either of their two leagues.”

“What are the stars based on?”

“Concours de Saut International,” she began, switching to a French accent, “is based primarily on prize money, but also maximum jump heights and even the speed at which the courses are designed to be ridden. For example, 4 and 5* outdoor courses are meant to be ridden at 400 meters per minute, 3* are like 375, and 1 and 2 are 350, which mean they’re way easier. When you see me do indoor courses, those are 350. Imagine a big outdoor course at little indoor pace? Bleh. So if you’re in a league that only has 1* shows, you’re qualifying for the Final by jumping stuff that doesn’t get over meter-40, at glacial pace, while I’m jumping meter-60 at max difficulty. Now, I know what you’re gonna say!”

“What am I going to say, cariña?” The Spanish player was smiling at her, and patiently absorbing her rant.

“I win a lot more money doing it the hard way, and I’m also more prepared for the Final, because that’s meter-60 and really hard too. Obviously those people who take the easy route aren’t used to jumping that, so I have the advantage. BUT! My league is not only the hardest. It’s also the most competitive. To get through Western Europe you have to get through the likes of, well, me. And Daniel, Marcus, Christian, Scott, Kevin, Penelope, Ludger, Marco, the Whitakers, Luciana, Lorenzo, Steve, Bosty, Simon, the Philippaerts’s, Meredith, Nick, Ben. And only 18 get to go. That’s already more than 18 that I’ve named there. Granted, 1-18 might not all decide to go, so some people outside of there get in, but still. Bosty is 18th right now on 34 points. I’m 24th and I only have 4 less points than him.”

“This sounds suspiciously like an argument about competitiveness and quality of La Liga versus the Premier League and the Bundesliga.”

“It’s not, because the other leagues are objectively easier. Were you not listening?” Christina whined. “You can’t prove a La Liga matchup is easier than a Premier League one. The FEI literally rates its classes by difficulty. A 1* class by definition has to be easier than 5*, and if you look at the computer list, there are more Western European riders at the top than people from any other league. We get more prize money at our shows but we don’t get more points. There are 5 North Americans in the top 25 and one Australian who only shows in Western Europe. Everyone else is Western European. So there. AND the Final has only been won by non-Western Europeans 7 times in my entire life. So by any measurable and rational metric, it is more difficult to compete in this league and harder to qualify from it.”

“I really love to hear you talk so passionately about something that has to do with your riding and isn’t a complaint about how it isn’t going the way you want. It’s been a long time.” Juan stacked his two devices atop one another and let his swinging foot bang gently into her stool a few times. He really did look like he really did love to hear her speak. His eyes are happy. Not entertained, or challenged, or engaged. Just happy. He’s so exceptional when he’s happy, she sighed inside. It wasn’t just that the Chelsea man looked hotter, or cuter, or more handsome when he was happy, though he did. He looked special to her. Looking at him when he was happy made her sort of happy too. It felt nice. “I’m wondering why you know the rankings and numbers so well right now, though. Did you just make them up a little to prove your point- which by the way, is good too. It’s good to hear you argue something for real instead of just quit and give up. But why are you so aware of the rankings? I’ve never heard you speak of those things other than to say you’re now top, or second, or in the top 5.” Those gorgeous blues narrowed ever so slightly, and Christina momentarily rued just how close their friendship was, and how adept he was at reading her. Very little slipped by his one-two punch of observation and intuition.

“I’m a little behind,” she admitted. “I haven’t had pressure to qualify for anything in this part of my career. Last year I didn’t decide that I wanted to go to the World Cup Final until I was pretty much qualified to go anyway. I didn’t worry about qualifying for the final of the Global Champions Tour. I worried about going into it in first place. We qualify for the Nations Cup Final every year pretty much as soon as it’s possible to do so. Pressure to get into teams like for that, for WEG, for the Olympics...that’s a little different than looking at rankings and points. I’m behind on something I want right now because A) I prioritized non-riding things over riding and didn’t go to all the shows I could have, and B) was so bad at so many of the ones I did go to that it eliminated that flexibility I used to have to be able to do that picking and choosing of events. If you win every time you do go, you can afford not to go so much. I don’t have that luxury anymore. So qualification isn’t in my hands now. I have to win and hope that some of the people between me and 18 do poorly, or don’t show up. I feel like this must be what it was like for Steven Gerrard in his last season at Liverpool- like you have to work so much harder than you used to because you don’t have the talent to rely on anymore.”

“Bullshit. I call bullshit, cariña. Gerrard didn’t lose his talent. He lost his physical sharpness because of age and miles. You didn’t give up your talent and you’re not old enough to be making excuses like that. Don’t give yourself that kind of crutch. Your talent has not gone anywhere. And also, I think Lukas is peeing on your plant.”

What? The rider swiveled around on her stool to follow Juan’s nodding gesture. Her son was standing next to a tall potted fern in the corner of the dining room, diaper around one ankle, and the other leg lifted up toward the plant.

“Lukas!”

There was a small puddle on the floor by the time she got there, and because the curious child didn’t know anything about how to aim or how to pee anywhere but in his diaper, there was also a wet streak down his leg, and on the ceramic black pot. Mom had no idea how he managed to get his diaper off, or where his sweatpants were. That alone was worrying because it meant that while Juan was relishing her passionate discourse on the state of World Cup show jumping, her passion on that subject led to a lapse in vigilance and Lukas got up to something he wasn’t supposed to because she wasn’t paying attention. The grownups assumed he was trying to copy the dogs. They couldn’t really get upset with him about it either because nobody had ever told him he wasn’t allowed to pee on things. Christina tried to explain that to him while she cleaned up the mess. He had no idea he’d done anything wrong. It wasn’t like she could punish him and withhold the cake about to come out of the oven. And on one hand, she kind of wanted to count the incident as a plus, because it meant he was becoming aware of when he had to go and had a motivation to go somewhere other than in his diaper. Mom thought maybe that meant they could start potty training sooner rather than later. Juan laughed at that notion and suggested that she figure out how to get Spencer and Lucky to go in a kids’ potty or she would forever be fighting their example. She really wanted potty training to be André’s job. He did a great job with the dogs, and he had a penis and thus, presumably, a better idea of how to learn to operate one. For example, Christina had no clue if boys learn to use their potty standing up or sitting down, or if dads are supposed to demonstrate and set an example. Lukas accompanied her to the bathroom sometimes but he was usually more interested in inspecting the contents of the trashcan than trying to copy her and sit down somewhere. One part of her current life that she was ready and willing to give up in moving to Dortmund was the general feeling that she was parenting on her own.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

question is, since we may be getting some palomino holiday fics, will we be seeing the ski suit 👀

Oh anon, sweetest anon, you're giving me ideas. If the snowsuit does end up making an appearance, I'll make sure to give you full credit 😘

#fuckyeahasks #palomino series #‘tis palomino season

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

I would have to sit down too if I saw jack in that snowsuit 😮‍💨

Bestie, not really a spoiler but putting this under the cut just in case:

There will be, shall we say, something extra on top of that snowsuit 😏

#fuckyeahasks #‘tis palomino season #snowsuit supremacy

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

I'm so sorry to bother you like this honey but I absolutely cannot access your palomino holiday durables everytime time I click on it it just redirects me to your main master list is there a hashtag you have for the drabbles that I can look through :(?

Please don't apologise, it's TUMBLR that should apologise for messing up everyone's links! Here it is lovely, will update the masterlist too - enjoy 💙🤍

P.S. if anything else isn't working please let me know so I can fix it!

#fuckyeahasks #palomino series #‘tis palomino season

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

so it’s x rated you say 👀👀

I said what I said 👀

All the holiday fics are E lmao I went all out

#fuckyeahasks #‘tis palomino season #it’s consent season

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

snowsuit anon reporting for duty!!

I did know it was a sleeveless turtleneck and I swear it somehow made me swoon even more because arms.

it also just feels like such a jack thing, like of course he’d own and wear sleeveless turtleneck lol.

I love love love it

That is top-tier snowsuit knowledge, snowsuit anon, your moniker is well deserved 😉

I can only say that now I’m getting more ideas for A Palomino Christmas 👀💪🏼 I mean, we need to see what those arms look like with the snowsuit pushed halfway down his waist, right?

… Right?!

#fuckyeahasks #snowsuit supremacy #‘tis palomino season #palomino series

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

“better take a seat for this darling” I am screaming, I am crying, I am throwing up

Merry X-(rated)mas indeed 🫠

Sorry that was terrible. But I will say this - A Palomino Christmas is my favourite out of the holiday fics. I can’t wait to share it with you guys ❤️

sneak peek

#fuckyeahasks #‘tis palomino season

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Palomino Christmas next week?!??

🤩🤩🤩

- snowsuit anon

Next week sweetest snowsuit anon!! The sneak peek is coming 😘

#fuckyeahasks #‘tis palomino season

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Cee, look, I found some footage of the inside of my brain, where my die-hard Halloween soul is getting ready to celebrate Fuck Yeah Holidays ’22

Because I’m a ho ho ho for your Bulge compilation posts, Palomino Jack and Consent Dieter (sorry, I’ll see myself out of your ask box) (truth be told I’ve been sitting on that terrible joke for a while).

lmao I love that gif Maddie! We can be ho ho hos together this holiday season 😘

Happy to report that I have only Consent NYE left to write before I go on holiday in a couple of weeks. Javier's bulge will be posting this week! ❤️

#fuckyeahasks #it’s consent season #‘tis palomino season

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

snowsuit action you say 👀👀👀👀 I’m looking forward to it

That's what I said 👀👀👀

#fuckyeahasks #‘tis palomino season #snowsuit supremacy