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foundtherightwords · 10 months

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All Our Yesterdays - Chapter 1

Pairing: Ralph (Timewasters) x OFC

Summary: Thu, a museum archivist, only wants to escape her dull life in 21st-century Hanoi. The last thing she expects is to end up in 1929 Indochina via a time-traveling elevator and cross paths with Ralph, an Englishman on the run from the French Foreign Legion. Romance blossoms between them, but in a colonized country, unrest is always looming on the horizon, and Thu must decide if she wants to stay with Ralph in the past or return to the safety of the future.

A/N: In the show, Ralph ends up somewhere in Morocco or Algeria (judging by this photo - thank you, @quinnkeerys, for doing the Lord's work), but I'm more familiar with French Indochina, and a Legion regiment was stationed there at the time, so I transferred him there to make the research easier for me.

A few notes on the Vietnamese names/pronunciation:

- Thu is pronounced like "too", but with a softer "t" sound. - The "D/d" letter in Vietnamese is pronounced as "z", so for example, "áo dài" (long tunic, the national costume of Vietnam) is pronounced like "ao zai". "Đ/đ" is pronounced as "d". It's confusing, I know. - For easier reading, I left the diacritics out of the characters' names (Hoang instead of Hoàng, Phuong instead of Phương, Lien instead of Liên.) The place names and other nouns are kept intact though. If they are difficult to read or mess up the format, let me know and I'll take them out.

Also, I only watched the first 2 episodes of "Timewasters" (the ones featuring Ralph), so I had no idea what is canon about the time machine.

Warnings: outdated/period-typical attitudes, mentions of war, mentions of pregnancy and abortion (involving a supporting character), some angst (it's mostly fluff but you know me, I can't do without angst altogether), some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warnings: outdated attitudes about women/marriage

Chapter word count: 3.3k

Chapter 1

"Thu, are you even listening to me?" Hoang's irritated voice brought Thu out of her reverie. With difficulty, she turned her eyes away from the vendor selling tofu pudding—tào phớ—outside. The vendor's hand was moving in a blur, scooping silky tofu from the big container into smaller cups and pouring sugar water on top. She was remembering how, in her childhood, such vendors would use a big mussel shell as a scoop instead of the ubiquitous aluminum ones now, and how the tào phớ of childhood seemed to taste sweeter, fresher. Now she was struck by a sudden craving. It was the first of September, but summer was still holding on stubbornly, and the air-conditioned interior of the coffee shop felt close, stuffy. A bowl of cool, slightly sweet, jasmine-infused tào phớ would just hit the spot.

"You want some tào phớ?" she asked Hoang.

"What?" Her boyfriend stared blankly back. She nodded toward the vendor, and Hoang made a face. "No. And you shouldn't either. It's not sanitary, you know. I wish the city would just ban all street vendors. So untidy."

Thu rolled her eyes. "But they're such an integral part of Hanoi!" she protested. "It's been that way for hundreds of years and will continue to be."

"I doubt it," Hoang said callously. "Already there are fewer of them after the pandemic. People's buying and eating habits are changing. Soon they'll be gone, just you wait."

Thu sat back, chagrined. They had had this argument often enough for her to know it was a losing battle. She shouldn't have said anything at all.

"Anyway," Hoang continued, "we're good for this Saturday?"

"What's happening Saturday?"

"My parents coming to talk to yours."

"About what?"

"About the wedding, what else? Have you not listened to a word I said at all?"

The truth was that she had tuned out the moment Hoang mentioned his mother had been to see a fortune-teller. It was exhausting, the way his mother always consulted fortune-tellers before doing anything, so after a while, Thu stopped listening. But now, the mention of "wedding" sent a chill through her, as she realized what it could mean.

"Wedding?" she repeated, trying to hide her rising panic.

Hoang let an exasperated breath out through his nose. "Yes, our wedding. Mom is determined to have it before the Lunar New Year."

"Before the Lunar New Year..." Thu did some mental calculations. "But that's only five months away!"

"So what? Plenty of time to plan a wedding."

"But why the rush?"

"Because you're turning twenty-six next year, and it's not an auspicious age to get married," Hoang explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So let's wait until I turn twenty-seven then! Or twenty-nine!"

"Come on, we are going to get married anyway, what's the difference a year or two going to make?"

It makes all the difference in the world! Thu wanted to shout, before stopping herself in time. She and Hoang had been together for four years, and it had always been understood that they would eventually get married, though they had never officially discussed it. And now, when Hoang finally brought it up, she realized, with horror, that she did not want to get married. Not yet. Perhaps even not at all. There was so much she wanted to do.

"I want to get my Master's first," she said.

"You can do that after we're married," Hoang replied breezily.

Easier said than done. After they got married, there would be kids (When are you going to have a baby?), responsibilities, and more kids (Two is always better than one, you know!), and before she knew it, her life would settle into monotonous drudgery, rushing home after work to put dinner on the table, dropping off squalling kids at daycare and picking them up again, arguing about what primary school to enroll them in, and on and on and on. Try as she might, she could picture none of the marital bliss people often boasted about. She shuddered and reached for her pendant, twisting it between her fingers as she always did whenever she was nervous.

"Actually... my parents might have... plans this Saturday," she said, trying to stall.

"Really?" Hoang raised an eyebrow. "But when my mom called, your mom said it was all good."

Thu's stomach churned in anger. Her mother always did that, deciding what was best for her without asking what she wanted. "Looks like they got it all under control," she said coldly.

Hoang didn't hear, or pretended that he didn't hear the frosty note in her voice. He leaned back and took a sip of his iced coffee. "Yep, I figured, moms have a lot more experience in this kind of thing, so why not let them take charge? They're happy, we don't have to worry about all the trivial details; it's a win-win."

Thu clamped down a bitter retort. It wasn't that Hoang didn't make an effort in their relationship; he remembered her birthday and their anniversary and other important dates, but he was always very matter-of-fact about them. His gifts were the practical kind, and he never got her flowers, saying there was no point since they were going to die anyway. Anything else would just be a "trivial detail" to him. She appreciated his pragmatism, but once in a while, she wished they could have been a little more spontaneous. It was like Hoang was afraid of being seen as sappy. She knew if he had it his way, he wouldn't even have a wedding at all. They would just go to the city hall and sign the marriage certificate and that would be that.

"Where are we going to live, after we get married?" she asked.

"With my parents," Hoang said, the "of course" plain in his tone even though he didn't actually say it out loud.

"You know I don't like it when so many generations live under the same roof," Thu said. Hoang lived with his parents and grandparents. She knew it was still the norm, but the very idea set her teeth on edge.

"What's the big deal?" Hoang shrugged. "In your own words, it's been like that for hundreds of years, and it's much more convenient. You know, for someone who loves history, you sure are picky about which part of it you love."

His words stung. "Just because I love something, doesn't mean that I'm blind about it!" she snapped, then gathered up her things and stormed out of the coffee house before Hoang could say another word. A bit of an overreaction, perhaps, but she was looking for any excuse to escape further discussion of the wedding. She wasn't brave enough to tell him that she didn't want it, and even if she did tell him, she wasn't even sure if she could get through to him.

That evening, over dinner at home, Thu tried to broach the subject with her parents first. If she could get them on her side, then maybe she could convince Hoang to push the wedding back a few years.

Her mom wasn't having any of it.

"But you two are going to get married anyway," she said, maddeningly echoing Hoang's words. "I don't see why you'd want to wait."

"We don't have our own place yet," Thu said. In this, she knew her parents would support her. No parents want their daughter to have to live with the in-laws. "And I want to get a Master," she added hopefully.

"What's the point? It's not going to raise your salary at the museum, is it?"

"It'll allow me to get a teaching position at the university."

Her mom snorted. "And their salary is better, I suppose? Your dad and I can lend you the money to buy your own place."

Thu turned to her dad in dismay. "Dad?"

"Mom's right," her dad said, his face hidden behind his phone. "We won't charge you interest."

"If you don't want to be in debt, then take that job with Cousin Minh," her mom continued. "He's been calling again. He says they can really use someone with your English skills, and they pay very well. You'll save enough for an apartment in no time."

"Mom, he sells illegal IDs!"

"Nonsense. He runs a visa agency."

"Yes, which includes selling illegal IDs. He's lucky he's not getting arrested. I am not going to work for him."

"Ooh, if you're getting married and moving out, can I have your room?" her younger brother, Tung, piped up.

Thu dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, frustrated. There would be no help from this quarter.

"Look," her mom said in a softer voice, "we just want you to settle down. Hoang is a nice boy. He has a good job. It's the right time to get married. If you wait longer, something else may come up."

Settle down. Get a job. Get married. Have kids. The same path as everybody else. Deviate from that, and you'd risk disapproval and pity. What will happen to you? Who will take care of your parents in their old age? Who will take care of you in the future? And of course, that was the sting. Hoang might be dull, but he was safe, stable, predictable. She could imagine a future with him, even if that future was not particularly bright.

Thu went into her room and took refuge in her history books. At least with them, she knew how the stories all turned out; it didn't matter if the endings were good or bad. Perhaps that was why she loved history so much. There was none of this worrying about the future in history.

***

Those gnawing thoughts were still going around her head the next day at work, grating on her nerves and making her snappish with everybody. It was a slow day. Usually, she relished days like this, when she could settle into the backrooms of the museum, going over the archives, or walking through the echoing halls, looking at the artifacts, pretending to be a visitor, but today, the quietness of the museum felt stifling, its familiarity stale. It probably didn't help that she was stuck doing paperwork, cataloging the findings of a recent dig just outside of Hanoi. Sometimes, this job felt futile, like there was nothing else they could discover about the past. Vietnam's history is a bewildering patchwork of myths and half-preserved facts, destroyed by centuries of war and natural disasters and just plain old bad weather, impossible to make sense of, and Thu had never felt the futility of that task more acutely than she did that day, while logging broken pieces of roof tiles and ceramics into the computer. She was glad when, near the end of the day, her supervisor asked her to leave off the work and deliver some invitations for the museum's upcoming seminar to the nearby Institute of French Culture.

Leaving her motorbike at the museum, Thu walked the short distance from behind the Grand Opera House down Tràng Tiền Street. It was rush hour; by the time she got her bike out of the museum's parking lot and found a parking space near the Institute, she would've already gotten there on foot. The concrete pavement still retained some of the day's heat, and the currents of roaring cars and bikes and their constant honking only added to the warmth, but already, there was a slight crispness to the air that whispered of autumn, of moon cakes and green rice, of lantern processions. As Thu wove her way through the traffic, she imagined herself as an office girl from the French School of the Far East, which used to be in the same building as her museum, walking to the IDEO Printing House, where the Institute now stood, on some errand...

Her phone buzzed, cutting off her daydreaming. She glanced at the screen and groaned inwardly. A text from Hoang:

Confirmed with my mom, we're coming to your house 10 AM Saturday. Prepare lunch. Something not too heavy.

The bossy tone of the text pricked at her. He couldn't even say "please" at the end! Was this a taste of how their marriage was going to be, with Hoang dictating the terms and Thu following obediently? To hell with that. And if Hoang and her mother refused to listen, then she would find a way to make them listen...

Without stopping to think, Thu logged into her mother's account, still remembering the password from when she set it up for her. She scrolled through until she found the string of messages between her mother and Hoang's, and fired up a text:

I'm very sorry, but we're going to have to cancel the plan on Saturday. There's an emergency.

Would that be enough? No. Better make it clear. She added, Also, to be honest, we can't afford a January wedding. It's too soon.

Better make it double clear then. And I think Thu and Hoang can benefit from having more time to think. They're both too young to—

No. She deleted the last sentence. It would be too obvious. Of course, it would become obvious who sent the text if Hoang's mother decided to call hers, but she was hoping, if nothing else, this would at least get their attention and allow her a chance to really talk about what she wanted.

Thu went into the Institute and dropped the invitations off at the main office on the fifth floor. Her head throbbed from the heat and the stress. While waiting for the elevator, she reached for her stash of emergency M&Ms in her backpack. She just popped a handful into her mouth when her phone rang, shrilly, accusingly. She glanced at the watch on her phone. Her subterfuge lasted a total of eight minutes.

"Hi, Mom," she answered, resigning herself to a dressing-down.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Her mom sounded furious. "You sent a message to Hoang's mother to cancel the plan on Saturday, didn't you?"

"I did, yes."

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to get married, Mom. Not yet. I've been trying to say this but nobody—"

"Do you have any idea how humiliated I was? I couldn't tell her that I didn't send that message! I had to say there was a misunderstanding and reschedule for Sunday."

"Mom—"

"That's final! I'm done discussing this with you!"

Her mom hung up. Thu sighed. Why won't they just listen?!

The elevator arrived. The door slid open. There was already a man inside, a Westerner. Thu eyed him curiously. He looked to be in his sixties and was terribly unkempt. Despite the heat, he was dressed in a long, dark coat. His pale, straggly hair stuck out from under a woolen hat, and he had a scruffy white beard. If she didn't know better, she would've said he was homeless, but she had seen plenty of backpackers looking far worse on the streets of Hanoi.

"Going down?" she asked in English, indicating with her hand.

The man grinned, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth. Thu recoiled slightly. But it was getting late, and she was exhausted. She just wanted to go home, avoid her mother, have a long, cool shower, and curl up in bed with her books. So she shrugged and stepped into the elevator, carefully reaching around the man to press "1".

As she stepped back, Thu noticed him eyeing her bag of M&Ms hungrily, practically bending down to sniff it.

"Would you, uh, like some?" she asked.

The man gave her another rotten-toothed grin and snatched the whole bag out of her hand.

Before Thu could even protest, the phone rang again. Hoang this time. "Did your mom just reschedule our meeting for Sunday?" he asked.

Thu wondered how he managed to make it sound so formal, like a business meeting. But she was in no mood for arguing. "I tried to cancel it, but she didn't want to," she said in a defeated voice.

"You did what—what the hell?"

"We're too young to get married! I'm only twenty-five and you're only twenty-seven, for Heaven's sake! Why is everybody in such a rush for us to get married? Is there an old relative about to die? Are you about to die?"

"Don't joke about that!"

"I'm not joking!"

She heard Hoang take a deep breath. "I don't understand your hang-up about the age thing," he said. "It's a perfectly reasonable age to get married. You know people got married in their teens back in the day—"

Thu wanted to scream. The fact that he thought this was about "the age thing" proved, all too clearly, that he didn't understand her doubt and her fear at all. "Stop talking about 'back in the day'," she hissed. "You have no idea what it was like 'back in the day'! If I could, I would go live 'back in the day' just to get away from all of you!"

"If this is how you insist on behaving, then maybe we should just call the whole thing off!"

"Good!"

"Did you hear me? I'm not just talking about our wedding, I'm talking about us! If you do this, it's over!"

"That's the best news I heard all day!"

She hung up, and, for good measure, turned the phone off and threw it into the depth of her backpack. She didn't want to give Hoang a chance to tell her that he didn't mean it, that it was just a heat of a moment thing...

Next to her, the homeless-looking man was munching on the M&Ms—her M&Ms!—and fumbling with the keypad. Then he turned and handed her a folded piece of paper.

Thu opened the paper and saw a few lines of Vietnamese scrawled on it:

RULES FOR TIME TRAVELERS

Don't kill anyone

Don't impregnate or get impregnated

Don't touch any animals

Try to blend in, and have fun!

Mystified, she looked up, but the man was gone. Before she could even wonder about his disappearance, a persistent beeping coming from the keypad caught her attention. The elevator was shaking.

Great. Just great. The elevator was breaking down, and now she was going to get stuck in it. Just the cherry on top of an already perfect day.

The shaking intensified. A flashing light made her look up, and she couldn't believe her eyes.

The elevator was not breaking down.

It was breaking up.

As in disintegrating. Above her and all around her. The debris was getting sucked into some terrifying vortex of dark clouds laced with lightning, while the beeping continued, piercing in her ears, and all the numbers on the keypad started flickering in a dizzying sequence. Thu had a horrible sensation, similar to when she was little and had a high fever, of being stretched long, as long as possible without snapping, while at the same time getting compressed into something tiny, tinier than she could ever imagine. She sank to her knees, wrapped her arms around her head, and screamed.

Then, as abruptly as it started, everything stopped. The elevator dinged and came to a halt.

Thu cautiously opened her eyes. She was still in one piece. She was still in the elevator, which was in one piece as well.

Perhaps it had all been in her imagination. There had been something wrong with the elevator, certainly, but in her stress and fatigue, she had imagined it to be something much worse. And the man... he must have gotten out when she wasn't looking.

Letting out a breath of relief, she fixed the straps of her backpack more firmly on her shoulders and exited the elevator.

And immediately realized that something wasn't right.

Chapter 2

A/N: This first chapter is just a setup, so please bear with me. Ralph will appear in the next chapter, which is coming tomorrow! Also, as usual, if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know.

#ralph penbury #ralph penbury fic #ralph timewasters #ralph x ofc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

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liroyalty · 6 months

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Since someone's got my head thinking about it, it's probably about time I revives some headcanon posts & lore about the Amaryllis Isles, as it is the country that has gotten the most attention & worldbuilding(outside of Camellia ofc). So this is all pretty much me digging up my headcanons from my old blog.

The Amaryllis Isles is considered to be 'The Elite of the Elite', as the luxuriousness & splendor of the archipelago & it's Golden Court are a step above other royalties & their courts. 'The Golden Court' in itself is a name that was given to the isle's court & it's royal family by other nations to reflex it's splendor, of which the Amaryllis Court decided to make official. The Golden Court is housed entirely in La Palais de la Gloire Dorée(The Palace of Golden Glory), this palace, along with it's garden, The Heavenly Yard, is known to be the second largest palace in the world.

The Isles enjoyed mild summers, but cold winters, being so far north in the Dark Azure Ocean. Thankfully, their winters are not so burial like that of Camellia, but cold enough to make additional layers a necessary thing. So popular winter fashion including that of the multi layers undershirts & skirts, or fur-lined coats for the very wealthy members of the Golden Court that could import such goods from colder kingdoms, like the Zedessa Empire & the Lareryth Empire. Summer fashions included single layered attires with wide brimmed hats to shield Amaryllians from the blinding light of the sun. Feathers & ribbons in the hair were also popular among men & women alike, & nearly all members of the court wore heels(only women wore high heels however). Ladies of the court were expected to also wear makeup everyday, usually lipstick, either a little eyeshadow or powder, & some type of perfume were the minimum for daily affairs, more was expected on special or formal occasions, & men were at least expected to wear perfume on the daily, with lipstick & powder on formal occasions(pale colored lipsticks or lipglosses are usually more popular among men's makeup).

As such a title would suggest, The Golden Court has no shortage of gold, & is it's most often used precious metal, jewelry, cups, furniture, you would find gold on just about anything, even the walls themselves. Amaryllians of the court were more then often, socialites that enjoys galas & banquets, or at the very least, were people who enjoyed good conversations & good food. None were more so that pinpoint of this ideas of party delighters then the royal family. The Golden Court is comprised of the nobility of the Amaryllis Isles, people who have married into such families, & of course, the Isle's Royal Family. It's name origined from, not just from the metal most often used by it's members, but also from it's members hair. Blonde hair is the most often found upon the heads of the court's members, with it's royal family's being a striking golden blonde. It's royal family also most often has large sapphire blue eyes. Because of this, blonde hair & blue eyes are prized physical traits within the court, with the royal family expected to have both. A popular secondary physical trait to have within the court is white or silver hair, as 'just behind gold, silver is the second most precious metal known to man'. Yellow or gold eyes are also seemed a popular secondary physical trait, as it matches the same ideals of blonde hair. Because of these prized traits, a large amount of members of the Golden Court have at least one of these traits, it has also become a prestige requirement that anyone who marries into the royal family, must have either blonde hair or blue eyes, if not both.

More often, it is the Queen of the Amaryllian Royal Family that does the forefront of entertaining & socializing with the court & the isle's guests, while the king handled the matters of the kingdom. This made the king's presence no less welcomed, of course, to have the king show at a ball as seen as a blessing, as his time was sparce with matters of the realm taking up most of his days.

Guests at the Golden Court are quite common. Popular entertainers, scholars of the brightest minds, artists of different trades, & royals & nobles from other lands. The range of guests that have been welcomed to the Golden Court's palace is wide indeed, but only the most noticeable guests have been invited again for additional stays, & allowed to dine with the royal family. Dining with the Ruling Family of the Golden Court, be it for brunch, lunch, dinner, afternoon tea, or just dessert, is one of the highest honors a guest can be given, as not even most of the Golden Court members have been allowed this.

Etiquette in the Golden Court was ridded, especially if you were born into it. There was a high expectation to be good at socializing & having excellent manners. Every member had to speak & write at least six languages(excluding Amaryllis's home tongue of French), know five styles of ballroom dances(with the waltz & tango being requirements), & partake of some type of artistical hobby. You were to know each member of the court's title & formal address, & to be able to preform to the low bow traditional of the court(to be able to lower yourself very low to the ground, without raising your rear, in the presence of one of higher rank, you would also lower your head to show respect).

And lastly, even if you are not a naive to Amaryllis, everyone knows of Amaryllian Delights. It is a brand name of sweets that has received the backing & even investments from the Royal Family. The brand has become a household name in The Golden Court, & across the isles altogether. It is believed, world-widely, to be the best brand of cakes & champagne created(think something similar too laduree). A true Amaryllian has a strong sweet tooth, they say, & only Amaryllian Delight can curb it. There most popular selling cakes are those usually the favorites of the royal family, macarons, eclairs & opera cake, with the classic champagne & pink champagne being their all time best selling champagne.

#musings [lore and ideas]#headcanons [a royal decree!]

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useless-catalanfacts · 1 year

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Other than Miss Putellas, do you like any other Catalan footballers? No idea if any Catalans went to the World Cup (would be cool if one day there could be a separate team for EH, Galiza and Catalan Countries like the UK has for Wales and Scotland, but that would mean the Spanish government having to recognize its national ethnic minorities as people so sadly it will never happen... until Spain dies ofc)

Personally I don't really watch football, I only go to the social centre (casal or ateneu, I don't know how to translate it better to English) to watch the important games for the women's Barça team because one of the players is from our social centre ☺️ we went together to esplai and casal (children's activities once a week during the year and everyday in summer) and summer camps when we were kids, it's amazing how far she's come and all the town is very proud of her.

Either way, I would boycott the Qatar world cup because of how it contributes to slavery.

As for the last part of your ask, yes you're definitely right. The UK accepts that Scotland, Wales, England and Northern Ireland are all countries. Spain denies any kind of recognition like that, so there's no way we can be allowed to have a team unless we're independent.

#ask #anonymous

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roobylavender · 3 months

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care to share the books lol ? i myself am trying to get thru my tbr … it’s not looking too good 😞

the mid: one night wife by ainslie paton / i am aware this sounds terrible but in fairness the set-up justifies it a bit lol. basically it's about a girl trying to get her charity program off of the ground and miserably failing until one night she catches the eye of this guy who's a professional grifter masquerading as a venture capitalist. he grifts rich people and redistributes the earnings to the poor. and he decides to help her out by using her as his "one night wife" to scam all of these so-called rich people by pandering to them together as a charming couple. except she doesn't know she's being used. and ofc they'll fall in love with each other. etc etc. the premise genuinely is very interesting but idk for some reason i can't connect to the characters. paton was a journalist before she went into fiction writing so everything is very fast-paced and to the detriment of really developing any investment in the characters

the terrible: the mis-arrangement of sana saeed by noreen mughees / so this girl is thirty three and unmarried (shame! shame!) which would not normally be a problem except that her mother won't name her as her autistic brother's future guardian unless she's married bc financial and emotional security or whatever. so she goes through your standard string of rishta meetings. all the while pining for her childhood friend whom she hasn't seen in like eighteen years bc their families fell out with each other and he moved away. except that at work she gets assigned to this new project with the deputy attorney general of the state and lo and behold it's said childhood friend. but she doesn't know that bc he changed his name and it's been eighteen years. but he knows who she is. and they're going to fall in love or whatever. i'm not very far through this one but the mc grates on me bc she's ridiculously immature for someone her age. some of it comes down to personal preference i suppose bc i'm kind of fed up with desi women's obsession with austen and finding their perfect darcy/wentworth adjacent prince who will sweep them off of their feet. not that desi women aren't entitled to that kind of love but the way the mc narrates it she sounds positively juvenile and i can't take it seriously. also i'm already getting inclinations that her autistic brother is barely a character and merely a plot device so that's swell. and the icing on the cake is ofc the full display of deranged and exaggerative desi family dynamics bc what else do we have to display of our culture but obsessive marital practices

the long, but good: the zoya factor by anuja chauhan / interestingly this one is the most wish-fulfillment aligned of all three of these but the execution of the premise is so well done and it clearly knows how to handle its whimsy so i'm genuinely enjoying it. the mc works in advertising and she gets roped into working on a photo campaign with the national indian cricket team. the captain of the team is ofc a surface-level ass uninterested in the campaign and intent for the team to focus on practice bc they've been on a bit of a losing streak. one day the mc ends up having breakfast with the team and she lets slip that she was born the very minute india last won the world cup so her family has always joked she's lucky. the very same day the team ends up winning their game. so word gets loose and suddenly there's this outcry from the public and the team that she has to become their mascot and permanent good-luck charm. except that the captain is obv still an ass and a very hardcore believer in "my results are only the product of my work ethic and never a concept so ridiculously amorphous as luck" so there's some head-butting involved. the fame is going to go to her head, the captain's going to try to keep her grounded all the while falling in love with her bc she is all things considered relentlessly charming, and there will ultimately be the question of whether it's entirely healthy to place so much self-worth in the idea of your own necessity to someone rather than relying more on the idea that they want you for who you are. it's very good stuff and to make things even funnier the mc constantly compares the captain's eyes to chocolate-flavored boost energy drinks which i personally think is a fabulous jab at authors' tendency to describe eye colors with food items. so i'm having a lot of fun

#outbox #feel free to share what you're reading btw!

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wosobronze · 5 months

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https://x.com/womenstransfer/status/1734275104391999495

Quite interesting on the back of the conversation we had about NWSL being a less hateful fanbase. Obviously a very different level for a World Cup vs a league but didn’t expect the US to be that far away from other nations in terms of abuse - i know they underperformed but still

gosh that’s so crazy, i think it really depends on what teams you follow in terms of who you see getting the most hate. like as i don’t follow any of the nwsl teams or players i don’t see it but ofc that’s not to say it doesn’t exist as it clearly does from that post. there’s so much hate everywhere in the womens football community and it’s so horrible to see considering what they all stand for and that they try to promote equality and kindness all the time :(

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mahashankh · 9 months

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FIFA Women's World Cup 2023 │ World Cup

FIFA Women's World Cup 2023 │ World Cup FIFA Women's World Cup Australia & New Zealand 2023™ The FIFA Women's World Cup Australia & New Zealand 2023™ is the 20th FIFA Women's World Cup, the quadrennial international women's football world championship contested by the national teams of the member associations of FIFA. It will be held in Australia and New Zealand from 20 July to 20 August 2023. FIFA Women's World Cup 2023 Winner List Of Fifa World Cup FIFA World Cup is the most prestigious international football tournament in the world The following 32 teams have qualified for the 2026 FIFA World Cup: Revenue From Fifa World Cup This will be the first time that the FIFA Women's World Cup has been held in two confederations simultaneously. It is also the first time that the tournament will be held in Oceania, and the first time that it will be held in a country in the Southern Hemisphere.

FIFA Women's World Cup A total of 32 teams will compete in the tournament, including the automatic qualifiers from each of the six confederations. The remaining 26 teams will qualify through continental qualification competitions. The tournament will be played in a single-elimination format, with the final to be held at Eden Park in Auckland, New Zealand. The defending champions are the United States, who won their fourth title in 2019. However, they will not be the favorites to win the tournament in 2023. The Netherlands, Spain, and England are all considered to be strong contenders, and Australia and New Zealand will be looking to make a good impression on home soil. The FIFA Women's World Cup is the most prestigious international women's football tournament in the world. It is a platform for the world's best female footballers to showcase their skills and compete for the ultimate prize. The 2023 tournament is sure to be a memorable one, with a wide range of talented teams vying for the title. I hope this is helpful! Let me know if you have any other questions.

FIFA Women's World Cup 2023

Fifa women's world cup There is no FIFA World Cup in 2023. The next FIFA World Cup will be held in 2026, and it will be co-hosted by Canada, Mexico, and the United States. However, there was a FIFA Women's World Cup in 2023. It was held in Australia and New Zealand from July 20 to August 20, 2023. The tournament was won by the United States, who defeated the Netherlands in the final. 32 teams qualified for the 2023 FIFA Women's World Cup, including eight debutants: Cameroon, Chile, Costa Rica, Ghana, Jamaica, Morocco, Panama, and Peru. The tournament was a record-breaker in several ways. It was the first FIFA Women's World Cup to be held in two confederations (AFC and OFC), the first to feature 32 teams, and the first to have a dedicated broadcast channel (FIFA+). The 2023 FIFA Women's World Cup was a huge success, with over 1.1 billion viewers tuning in around the world. It was a watershed moment for women's football, and it helped to raise the profile of the sport around the globe. History of Fifa World Cup The FIFA World Cup is the most prestigious international football tournament in the world. It has been held every four years since 1930, except for 1942 and 1946, due to World War II. The first FIFA World Cup was held in Uruguay in 1930. The host nation won the tournament, defeating Argentina in the final. Since then, the FIFA World Cup has been won by eight teams: Brazil (5 titles), Germany (4 titles), Italy (4 titles), Argentina (3 titles), France (2 titles), Uruguay (2 titles), England (1 title), and Spain (1 title). The most recent FIFA World Cup was held in Qatar in 2022. France won the tournament, defeating Croatia in the final. Here are some of the most memorable moments in FIFA World Cup history: - The "Miracle of Bern": In the 1954 FIFA World Cup final, West Germany defeated Hungary 3-2 after trailing 2-0 at halftime. This was considered one of the biggest upsets in World Cup history. - Pele's hat-trick: In the 1970 FIFA World Cup semi-final, Pele scored three goals to help Brazil defeat Italy 4-1. This was Pele's last World Cup tournament, and it was one of the most memorable performances in World Cup history. - Diego Maradona's "Hand of God" goal: In the 1986 FIFA World Cup quarter-final, Argentina defeated England 2-1. Maradona scored two goals in the match, one of which was scored with his hand. This goal is known as the "Hand of God" goal, and it is one of the most controversial moments in World Cup history. - Zinedine Zidane's headbutt: In the 2006 FIFA World Cup final, France defeated Italy 1-1 (4-2 on penalties). In the final minutes of extra time, Zidane headbutted Italian defender Marco Materazzi. Zidane was sent off, and France lost the match on penalties. The FIFA World Cup is a global sporting event that is watched by billions of people around the world. It is a celebration of football and a showcase for the best players in the world.

Winner List Of Fifa World Cup

As of 2023, the following teams have won the FIFA World Cup: - Brazil (5 titles): 1958, 1962, 1970, 1994, 2002 - Germany (4 titles): 1954, 1974, 1990, 2014 - Italy (4 titles): 1938, 1982, 2006 - Argentina (3 titles): 1978, 1986, 2022 - France (2 titles): 1998, 2018 - Uruguay (2 titles): 1930, 1950 - England (1 title): 1966 - Spain (1 title): 2010 The most successful team in FIFA World Cup history is Brazil, with 5 titles. Germany and Italy are tied for second place with 4 titles each. Argentina, France, Uruguay, England, and Spain have each won 1 title. The most recent FIFA World Cup was held in Qatar in 2022. Argentina won the tournament, defeating France in the final. The next FIFA World Cup will be held in the United States, Canada, and Mexico in 2026.

FIFA World Cup is the most prestigious international football tournament in the world

FIFA Women's World Cup The FIFA World Cup is the most prestigious international football tournament in the world. It is held every four years and features the best national teams from around the globe. The tournament is known for its exciting matches, passionate fans, and global reach. Here are some of the unique features of the FIFA World Cup: - The number of participating teams: The FIFA World Cup is the only international football tournament that features 32 teams. This allows for a wide variety of teams to compete and gives smaller countries a chance to make history. - The use of technology: The FIFA World Cup is at the forefront of technological innovation. In recent tournaments, FIFA has used goal-line technology, video assistant referees (VAR), and 360-degree cameras to improve the accuracy and fairness of the matches. - The global reach: The FIFA World Cup is the most watched sporting event in the world. The 2018 tournament in Russia was watched by an estimated 3.5 billion people worldwide. This makes the FIFA World Cup a truly global event that unites people from all over the world. - The cultural impact: The FIFA World Cup has a major cultural impact on the host country. The tournament brings in billions of dollars in revenue and helps to promote tourism. It also helps to raise the profile of the host country on the world stage. The FIFA World Cup is a truly unique sporting event that brings together the best players in the world to compete for the most prestigious prize in football. It is a global event that unites people from all over the world and has a major cultural impact on the host country.

The following 32 teams have qualified for the 2026 FIFA World Cup:

- Host countries: Canada, Mexico, and the United States - Africa: Cameroon, Ghana, Morocco, and Senegal - Asia: Iran, Japan, South Korea, and Saudi Arabia - Europe: England, France, Germany, Netherlands, Poland, Portugal, Qatar, and Spain - North America: Costa Rica and Mexico - South America: Argentina, Brazil, Ecuador, and Uruguay The following 4 teams will play in the inter-confederation play-offs to determine the final two participants: - Australia/United Arab Emirates vs. Peru - New Zealand vs. Costa Rica The 2026 FIFA World Cup will be the first tournament to feature 48 teams. The qualification process is still ongoing, but the following teams are considered to be strong contenders: - Africa: Algeria, Côte d'Ivoire, Nigeria, and Tunisia - Asia: Australia, Iran, Japan, and South Korea - Europe: Belgium, Croatia, Denmark, and Italy - North America: Canada, Mexico, and the United States - South America: Colombia, Peru, and Chile The 2026 FIFA World Cup is sure to be a thrilling tournament with a wide variety of teams competing for the title.

Revenue From Fifa World Cup

The FIFA World Cup is the most profitable sporting event in the world. It generates billions of dollars in revenue from a variety of sources, including: - Broadcasting rights: FIFA sells the broadcasting rights to the World Cup to major broadcasters around the world. These broadcasters pay billions of dollars for the rights to show the matches. - Sponsorships: FIFA also sells sponsorships to major companies around the world. These companies pay millions of dollars to be associated with the World Cup. - Ticket sales: FIFA sells tickets to the World Cup to fans around the world. These tickets can sell for thousands of dollars each. - Merchandise sales: FIFA sells merchandise related to the World Cup, such as jerseys, hats, and flags. This merchandise can also sell for thousands of dollars each. The revenue from the FIFA World Cup is used to fund the organization's operations and to develop football around the world. FIFA also uses some of the revenue to pay the prize money to the participating teams. In 2018, FIFA earned a record $7.6 billion from the World Cup in Russia. This was an increase of $1 billion from the previous tournament in Brazil in 2014. The 2022 World Cup in Qatar was also a financial success, generating $6.8 billion in revenue. This was slightly less than the 2018 tournament, but it was still a record for a World Cup held in the Middle East. The 2026 World Cup in the United States, Canada, and Mexico is expected to be the most profitable World Cup in history. FIFA has already sold the broadcasting rights for the tournament for $2.7 billion, which is more than any previous World Cup. The tournament is also expected to generate significant revenue from sponsorships, ticket sales, and merchandise sales. The FIFA World Cup is a major economic driver for the host country. The tournament brings in billions of dollars in revenue and helps to promote tourism. It also helps to raise the profile of the host country on the world stage. Read the full article

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frauenfootball · 2 years

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OFC Nations Cup 2022 Final happening right now ▶️

#ofc nations cup 2022 #ofc women's nations cup 2022 #papua new guinea wnt #fiji wnt #png wnt #fijwnt #my nephew looked at the tournament title and read it as the 'of course nations cup' 😂

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calciopics · 2 years

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OFC Women’s Nations Cup 2022 - Papua New Guinea 2-1 Fiji

HFC Bank Stadium - Suva, Fiji Final

Meagen Gunemba 17’ Ramona Padio 27’ Cema Nasau 42’

#OFC Women’s Nations Cup 2022 #Oceania Football Confederation #Papua New Guinea WNT #Fiji WNT #Meagen Gunemba #Ramona Padio #Cema Nasau #football #fussball #fußball #foot #fodbod #futbol #futebol #soccer #calcio

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stoopidamerican · 10 months

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WAfCoN 2022 Quarterfinals

Things are heating up in my series on Women's International Football from July 2022. This report covers the quarterfinals of the Women's Africa Cup of Nations.

Women’s Soccer, July 2022: A SeriesThis is the eighth post in a series devoted to the 117 games of international women’s football played in July 2022, covering the Women’s Africa Cup of Nations Quarterfinals. If you’d like to start from the beginning (or to pick and choose your competitions), you can do so from my opening post. Next up is the group stage of the OFC Women’s Nations Cup. Women’s…

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aasmauk · 1 year

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The reason why Football is so popular? internationally

Football is certainly the most well-known sport around the world. It is the most popular sport in the world. Of sports are exclusively played in only one region of the globe. For example, baseball is very popular in America, the USA, Europe, and certain areas of Asia; however, American Football is only played in the USA. Cricket is usually practised in both the UK in the UK and Commonwealth.

Football is, however, played all over the globe. In official terms, FIFA has more than 211 members divided into six regional areas (CONCACAF, UEFA, CONMEBOL, CAF, AFC, and OFC). This means that every country on every continent can play in a FIFA World Cup qualification game.

Read Louis Saha Mattori

Why is it that Football is so famous?

Many people may feel the same satisfaction when they watch their local teams do as well in the same way they can while supporting their nation. There are numerous ways in which Football has advantages in comparison to other sporting events. For example, in the United States, an extensive league plays baseball, American soccer, and basketball. The huge large league in one country is comparable to leagues in other countries.

However, every continent has top-of-the-line football leagues. Most of the top football teams are, in fact, in Europe. However, certain leagues also receive more support from other continents, such as South and Central America, Asia, and the Middle East. Clubs help teams representing regions of a nation and assist fans in maintaining their love for Football throughout the year. Multiple leagues in various countries provide the potential for international club tournaments like the Champions League, which pits clubs from various countries against each other.

"Beautiful game "Beautiful game"

Football is often called "The Beautiful Game" for this reason. Football is an attractive sport. It is amazing to be a spectator at football matches because of the crowd's excitement, the roar of the crowd, the emotion, the natural grass, and all the others. A perfect slide tackle, stunning freekicks, and a roaring golfazo towards the top of the pitch are stunning. The game has an innate quality that can be entertaining to observe.

The reason Football is the most popular sport? It is an all-inclusive sport that everyone enjoys.

The truth is that there are no physical requirements to playing Football. Other sports, for instance, basketball and American Football, have particular physical requirements, such as being extremely tall and sporting a strong body. There is no requirement to be the same kind of physically fit to be a football player.

In reality, Lionel Messi, one of the top players in the entire world, is the shortest guy (about 1.70 meters). In addition, there are no gender restrictions in Football. The rules of this game are the same for both males and females. This Women's World Cup is a significant and perhaps the biggest female sporting event ever.

Also, Read Best football teams in the world in 2023

What is the reason why Football is the most adored sport?

The ability to connect with the ball from any place on the field makes it a simple and well-known sport. The sport is one of the few sports that do not change for both genders who play.

Where is football such a popular sport?

It is believed that the United States of America (USA) is where Football was invented and is most loved. The game has been part of American life for over 100 years.

Where is Football very popular in India?

Football is also considered a popular sport in the states of Goa, Kerala, Manipur, and West Bengal. Kolkata, West Bengal, is believed to be the capital of Indian Football.

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martynpng · 2 years

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Something to feel good about amongst all the negativity. Congratulations #PNG Lakatois for sailing to victory in the @OFCfootball Women’s Nations Cup! #football #ofc #Pacific https://www.instagram.com/p/CgojEevBG_h/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#png #football #ofc #pacific

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anjaelle · 3 years

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Heavy Weight

Pair: Boxer!August Walker x Black!OFC Warnings: Mention of Blood, Mention of Bruising, Mentions of Depression, Mention of Abuse, Mention of Self Harm; Some comfort. Summary: The various ways in which a man learns about vulnerability. Word Count: 1.5k a/n: This is some dark shit. Idk where this came from, and I’m sorry if it triggers someone. I tried not to be too graphic. More of the focus is on him than the relationship, if that makes sense.

________________________________________________________

“Tell me... if I’m doing too much,” he sighed between kisses, “tell me if you need me to let up.”

She smiled against his mouth, placing a splayed hand on his firm chest, “I will.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

The very first time he touched her, he worried that his hands were too rough with callouses. It was something that weighed heavy on this mind, so much so that it may have affected his performance. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything about it. She was too polite to do things like that, so of course she wouldn’t.

Sometimes he questioned why she stayed with someone who couldn’t relax. She pressed her delicate fingers into the muscles of his back and joked that the tension could crack a diamond. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, allowing himself to fall deeper into the softness of her. This time, his hands tangled into her thick curls as he placed kisses along the curve of her throat. She giggled, and it sounded like a melodic bell.

He wanted to shield her from the world he came from. Women like her couldn’t handle the brutality of his life, and he wouldn’t blame them. It just meant that he didn’t spend much time getting invested. When she asked to see him fight, he shut her down immediately, claiming that it wasn’t her scene. It resulted in a small argument, and she conceded. But it was a hollow victory when he came home to an empty apartment. Eventually he offered a compromise: she could watch the match from home. It was the only way he could stomach it--he couldn’t bear to imagine her face in the crowd as he used the hands she loved for violence.

And then he lost.

And he came home bitter and tired. She reached up to brush his hair from his swollen eye and he flinched away from her before excusing himself to go to the bathroom. As soon as he found the strength to confront her, she pressed a bag of frozen peas to his face in an effort to bring the swelling down. He protested. She underestimated how much battering he could take, and he told her as much, forcing a grin on his split lips.

“I’m a big boy,” he semi-joked, “I’ll be alright.”

He wouldn’t touch her that night. He couldn’t. His knuckles were bruised, and his mouth was bloody. He was angry about losing, and he didn’t want to be held or kissed. Instead he spent the night on the couch, watching footage of his father in his prime. Every time she checked on him, he murmured that he’d be in bed soon, only choosing to go to bed when he was sure she was asleep and wouldn’t ask him questions.

The second time she watches him fight, she calls him as soon as its over. The high of victory doubles when he hears her voice, and he just wants to go home to her.

“You did so well, baby!” She exclaims, “I’m so proud of you. We have to celebrate!”

Instead the crew took him to a bar without her. He lost count of how much whiskey he drank, how many girls he ignored, how many pats on the back he received from strangers. And as the night progressed, and the alcohol wore off, the guilt hit him like a freight train.

When he finally arrived home, she was asleep on the couch, curled up in one of his gym hoodies that fit snugly in some places and baggy in others. For once, he was glad he sobered up before he came home. He didn’t want to forget this image. He picked her up, and she mumbled tiredly into his shoulder.

“You didn’t come home...” she sighed.

“I tried. I’m sorry.”

He removed his liquor stained shirt and jeans, and crawled into bed with her, placing kisses on her forehead.

“Don’t leave me behind, okay?” she said. He wasn’t sure what she meant. Maybe she was talking in her sleep. He swallowed hard and held her close.

“I won’t.”

The third time she watches him fight, he loses again. And she watches him shrink into himself, live on national television. He came home bruised and battered, but he forced a smile on his face when she greeted him at the door. It didn’t meet his eyes, and she noticed. She made an attempt to ask if he was okay, and as usual he brushed it off as just disappointment.

It was more than that, and they both knew it.

Once again, he refused to touch her. She reached out to rub his back as he passed her in the kitchen, and he flinched, his shoulders tensing up.

“What’s wrong?” She asked with pleading eyes, “Does something hurt?”

He hesitated and sighed, “A little.”

That was a start.

He held her hand as she led him to the bathroom, and he effortlessly lifted her onto the countertop so that they were eye-level.

“Let me look at you,” she gently commanded, which brought a small spark of amusement to his eyes. He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips.

“So you’re going to play doctor now?”

“Shush,” she cupped his face in her hands and kissed his crooked nose.

She applied ointment to the cuts on his knuckles and wrapped them up with a kiss. His heart melted. “Looks good,” he said, flexing his hand, “I might have to let you in the locker room before the matches.”

She smiled brightly at the compliment, “See! I can help, sometimes. You should let me do this more often. Y’know?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “Didn’t I tell you not to leave me behind? Let me take care of you, August.”

Something crossed his features. It was the first time she’d ever seen it.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” He confessed, grasping her face in his hands.

He pressed a long kiss to her soft lips. For once, he willed himself to forget the events of the night. He wrapped her thighs around his hips and sighed into her mouth. She felt his heartbeat thud rapidly against her chest, and his breathing picked up. Suddenly she felt the wetness on her cheeks.

“Babe,” she tried to pull away, but he moved to kiss down her neck, “Baby...”

He said nothing but pulled her closer to rest his head on her shoulder. Suddenly he hyperventilated and his body shook with sobs. Despite his comparatively massive frame, he felt so small in her arms as she held him and let him cry.

It took some time to open up. She made the suggestion based on her own experiences, but it was ultimately his decision to take the leap. He was uncomfortable. He didn’t really like talking. But he was tired of feeling angry all the goddamn time.

“Why are you a boxer?”

“I guess it seemed like the best case scenario? I’ve always been a good fighter. I might as well get paid to punch people in the face. It’s a better use of my time and energy.” And his anger. But that didn’t seem like something he wanted to admit. He didn’t want the guy to think he was a lunatic with violence issues.

“How do you feel in the ring?”

“I don’t know. Fine, I guess. Sometimes it just feels like a game. Like a strategy thing...I hate losing though.”

He scribbled something down on his stupid yellow notepad.

“Well, that’s understandable. Losing sucks.”

“Yeah, but it feels like an extra punch in the gut. I just really hate losing. It makes me feel like I shouldn’t even have my job in the first place.”

Doctor So-and-So raises his eyebrows behind his thick rimmed glasses.

“Why do you feel that way?”

“My job is to win matches. What the hell do I have to gain from losing them?” He chuckled bitterly, “I used to just let my cuts and bruises fester. Just so I’d remember how much the shit sucks and I won’t lose again. I feel like I only lose when I forget what losing feels like.”

There’s a heavy pause after that admission, and the therapist scribbles something else down.

“August, there’s no shame in failure. Why do you feel like you should punish yourself for human error?”

“How else will I improve?” He automatically said. Then he caught himself, dropping his head in his hands, “Fuck. Fuck that old bastard to hell. I thought that shit was normal,” he admitted. “I thought every guy dealt with this. It helped you build a thicker skin. I don’t think I’d have the career I do if it wasn’t for him. I always think, ‘whatever these guys hit me with, I’ve dealt with worse from my old man’.”

That was the first time he’d admitted any of this aloud. The feeling was strange, like a small weight lifted from his shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was something...

#august walker x black reader #henry cavill x female reader #august walker x reader #henry cavill x black ofc #henry cavill x black reader #august walker x ofc #ch: august walker #I'm so sorry auggie I'll be nicer to you in the next one I promise #jaelle writes #even if you are a dick

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

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Protection Chapter 4

Summary: Mia is deeply hurt by August, only she is the one with a slight problem now: her heater is broken.

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: I hope everyone had a lovely few days! please let me know what you think about this chapter. I love to read about it 🤗

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

That Saturday I had my second to last game and I scored not one, not two, but three goals. Some even said I might’ve set a record for the fastest going goals in the history of female soccer. That might have something to do with me being still so damn mad at August.

I mean, I know I said I was going to accept his hot and cold attitude, since there would be a kind man underneath that harsh exterior, but after being hurt like that, I just figured that I couldn’t accept it anymore. He was harsh and borderline mean to me.

I don’t understand him anymore, but what I do know is that him being like that to me, is probably not going to change. Maybe I’m being a baby and totally overreacting, but I decided that it is best for my own wellbeing if I not talk to him anymore and so far, it’s working. Despite August always being home, I only bumped into him once and that for being next door neighbors.

Yesterday we both stepped into the elevator, but since I know him a bit, I was just sure he wouldn’t start a conversation with me.

I was right. However, I had to go against all my own impulses and you can almost say reflexes to not start a conversation with him.

August told me he doesn’t do apologies, so I shouldn’t be expecting one from him.

When I wake up that Sunday, a day after my game, I’m hit with a painful cold. Normally, Bobo sleeps on top of my blankets, but now he is securely curled up underneath them. Why is it this cold in here? I slip on some thick socks (that feels like two large ice cubs) and rush to my thermostat.

Only to discover it’s not working?!

‘Shit, shit, no,’ I whine. I really can’t use that right now. I mean, I can’t ever use it, but right now I really don’t want it. I check the card that hangs next to the thermostat and it informs me I can call the mechanic at nine on a Sunday.

It’s seven now, which is absolutely fantastic.

While my body is slowly freezing up and my nipples are the evidence of the cold temperatures (I’m really happy I’m all by myself now), I go to the bathroom to check if my shower can provide me with some warmish water. I grab the shower head and I wait until the water turns even slightly warm.

It doesn’t.

Great, so even a shower can’t keep me warm. I desperately need a shower, my sore muscles need some relaxation. I turn off the water and I walk to my bedroom. After I put on a bra and some more layers, I jump around, desperately trying to keep myself warm, but it’s useless. It’s what? Minus a billion degrees in here? I’m never gonna warm up, even if I wanted to.

I look over at the wall, the one that separates my apartment from August’s. I could do it, you know. I could just go over there and demand I can stay over at his place. I mean, that’s what he does and considers normal.

I can do that too. I can demand some shelter for a few moments. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Right?

Nah, it’s not. I’m too damn proud to do such thing.

The two hours go by really slow, but at least I got myself a good work out in, because I was desperately trying to keep warm. and I curled up underneath my blankets, but it was of no use. When I finally can call the mechanic, the shithead on the other line told me he couldn’t come in until three in the afternoon. Six whole hours in this freezing cold? That is something I simply cannot do. I want a hot shower and just chill in my sweats all day. I deserve that after last night’s game.

I grab some clothes, my shampoo and skincare products and pick up Bobo, who feels like a hot water bottle, but is not enough to keep me warm. I close the door of my apartment and with my elbow I knock on August’s door. It takes awhile before he opens the door, but when he does so, he frowns and looks visibly confused.

Probably because I’m holding Bobo and have a big bag with me.

‘What do you want?’

Always the gentleman. I should’ve thought this through, but I think the frostbite has reached my brain before I could do so. ‘I have a problem,’ I say. ‘My heater is broken and the mechanic comes at three.’

He leans against the doorframe. August looks different and I think it’s because of the grey sweatpants. I never really pecked him for a guy who wore something like that, matched with a thick hoodie. ‘Okay?’

Demand shelter, Mia, you can do it. ‘You should give me shelter,’ I say. Okay, that was’t exactly what I was aiming for, but it’s a start. ‘I cannot handle six hours in the freezing cold and I also don’t have hot water, so I can’t shower. Before you ask: ‘Why would I do this?’, remember, I did the same for you and I paid for the court side tickets.’

‘Tickets you bought before you even knew you were going to take me with you,’ he retorts. He sighs deeply. ‘Does the animal has to come as well?’

‘The animal is very sweet,’ I tell him and almost on cue Bobo starts to hiss. ‘Okay, maybe not to you, but please… Just let me stay here for six hours. If you do so, I might forgive you for being a total ass to me last Wednesday.’

‘I wasn’t an ass to you,’ he says, but when I cock my eyebrow, he looks kinda caught. ‘Okay, I maybe was an ass to you sometimes.’

‘All the time,’ I interrupt in.

‘Not the entire time. Just the ending,’ he tells me. ‘Okay, okay, please, come in, Mia and the creepy cat. Make yourself at home.’

At first I’m afraid he is being sarcastic (I mean, we’re talking about August Walker and it didn’t sound like it came from the heart), but when he actually steps aside, I realize he is serious. ‘Thank you,’ I say with a smile and I walk into his pretty boring apartment. I’ll let it slide for now, because he just moved in. I place Bobo on the ground and he struts through the apartment, avoiding August. Being here feels like I’m being wrapped up in a warm blanket.

August walks passed me to the kitchen and I decide to walk after him. ‘Are we going to talk about Wednesday?’ I ask him.

‘No.’

Figured. ‘Come on, August. Just… We should talk about this, to clear the air.’

‘I don’t want to talk.’ He places his hands on the counter and I don’t know where I’ve got the guts from, but I dare to step closer to him.

‘I bet there was a reason why you were like that this Wednesday,’ I continue. ‘You can talk to me, you know?’

‘I don’t want to talk about my feelings, especially not with you,’ he barks out.

Weirdly enough, this doesn’t hurt me, because I think he doesn’t mean it. ‘August,’ I whisper, ‘please. I just want to know why you continue to hurt me, when I’m nothing but nice to you, minus maybe the pedophile comment.

He clenches his jaw. ‘You want coffee?’

Why is he ignoring me? ‘Sure,’ I say, because I can actually use a cup. ‘Can’t you just try to be nice to me, without it being sandwiched in between insults? I’m not forcing you to go skipping with me in a park and make flower crowns with me, while feeding the ducks. I’m just asking you to cut the insulting crap and be nice to me.’

August actually turns his back to me and I let out a sigh. What was I even thinking?

‘I can try.’

Did I just hear that correctly? ‘What?’ I ask. ‘You can try?’

‘I can.’ He pours in some coffee for me and hands me a mug.

‘Thank you,’ I say with a gentle smile. I carefully place my hand on his underarm and he looks up, nearly snapping his neck in the process. ‘I really want to get to know you,’ I say to him in a soft tone. ‘But only if you allow it, okay?’

He nods. ‘Yes, okay,’ he says.

‘You want to get to know me?’ I ask with a chuckle.

‘Weirdly enough: yes.’

I roll my eyes. ‘August.’

‘Wait, wait, wait, I can do better,’ he says. ‘Yes, I want to get to know you too.’ He cocks an eyebrow. ‘Better?’

I laugh. ‘Yes, much better.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Since August’s shower provides me with hot water, I might overdo it by standing underneath the warm water for at least half an hour. Yes, I’m that type of guest. I quickly dry my hair, put on some moisturizer and get dressed, before I walk to the living room.

‘Did you clean up in here?’ I ask August, noticing the place is a whole lot cleaner than it was before I took my shower. ‘Are you trying to impress me, August?’

He scoffs, placing his feet on the coffee table. He looks like a mocking kindergartner, it’s almost endearing.

‘Where is Bobo?’ I ask him, when I sat down next to him and look around.

‘In my bed,’ August answers with a shrug.

That caught me a bit off guard. My cat is in his bed? ‘And you don’t mind?’ I ask. ‘Or are you too afraid to shoo him away?’

He doesn’t want to—I can see it in his eyes—but he smiles. ‘Maybe a bit of both. Besides, he was hissing at me, so I was too afraid to get him off the bed.’

I chuckle. I shiver a bit, as I’m slowly losing the warmth from the shower. August stands up from the couch and wanders through the place. Only to come back with a blanket. He drapes it over me and I’m genuinely surprised. ‘What is this?’ I ask him, though I know exactly what this is.

‘You were cold,’ he says, ‘so I got you a blanket.’

I feel my cheeks heating up. ‘You can be very nice, did you know that?’

August looks at me for a few milliseconds, before he averts his gaze. I realize this may have been too much of a compliment. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘You want to watch some tv?’

‘Sure.’ He grabs the remote and turns on his television.

Was August watching the sports channel?

The only channel that broadcasts the women’s national football league?

‘Did you watch the game last night?’ I ask him.

‘I might’ve,’ he admits, his cheeks a little red. Oh my, my brooding neighbor August Walker is blushing!

‘Next week I have my last game, before the winter break. You want to watch? It’s free and I can arrange a nice spot for you. Special VIP treatment.’

‘Really?’ he asks. ‘Even after I was an absolute asshole to you?’

It’s nice of him to acknowledge that. ‘Even after that.’

‘I would like that.’

Are we having a moment now or is this me hallucinating? August looks into my eyes and doesn’t turn away. His light orbs are obviously hiding so much and it breaks my heart to think he has been through so much. ‘What are you thinking about?’

August shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’

‘Liar.’

He smiles. It makes him look beautiful, approachable and absolutely breathtaking. ‘I was thinking about giving you a compliment about the game last night and whether or not I should add an insult to it.’

I laugh. ‘Well, you can ditch the insult. I’m not sure if I can take it right now.’

‘You are by far the best player on your team,’ he says. ‘Maybe this is an insult to your teammates, but I think you would be the only female player that could actually beat the best male players.’

I bite my bottom lip, as I feel my stomach twists and turns. ‘That’s really sweet,’ I admit. ‘I bet you don’t want me to give you a hug as a thank you, right?’

August leans back in the couch. ‘Why would you want to hug me?’

That’s not a no, which is an improvement. ‘I barely got hugs when I grew up,’ I say. ‘I don’t know if you are aware of my sob worthy backstory. It’s pretty much all over the internet.’

‘I might’ve looked up some bits, he admits in all honesty, which I appreciate. ‘Lots of foster families.’

I nod. ‘I mean, it was mostly me. The families were nice enough, but I was simply afraid, because I knew that there was a chance I would leave again. What if I attached, you know? Saying goodbye would be harder.’

He nods, almost as if he understands.

‘However, my soccer team was pretty much the same team for years. I grew attached to them and hugs were totally normal. It was a way of communicating, really. Since that moment, I appreciate them. It’s a way to let someone know I appreciate them. If that makes sense.’

August nods again. ‘Back when I grew up, I never got hugs.’

For some reason, I see a young and pouty August in front of my eyes. Desperate for some human contact, only to be deprived by it.

‘I just never was in a setting where hugs were acceptable. Not when I was younger, not now.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize for stuff you had nothing to do with,’ he says and he sounds like the same old August I have come to know. He lets out a deep sigh, one that nearly sounds like a growl. ‘You can give me a hug.’

‘That doesn’t sound very sincere.’

‘I am very sincere,’ he says. ‘I mean it.’

This is adorable, I think to myself. ‘Well, you have to know that once I hug you, you are in it for the real deal. I may or may not hug you every chance I see you.’

August laughs. ‘Then I just have to live with that.’

I push the blankets off of me, before I nearly jump him. I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and while he is slightly awkward, he places his hands on my back and actually engages in the hug. ‘You are very huggable,’ I say.

‘You too.’

I pull my face back, so I can look at him. ‘Remember,’ I say, ‘you can put your walls down around me. I would even really like that, to get to know you.’

August moistens his lips, before he whispers: ‘I would like that as well.’

◎ ◎ ◎

After the mechanic fixed my heater and left, August and I ordered pizza. Now, we sit on my couch and watch some YouTube compilation of me playing soccer. That wasn’t even my idea.

It was August’s idea.

Ever since our hug, I notice he is trying his best to be nice and to me, that’s what matters the most. While I don’t understand his struggle, I do appreciate the effort.

I just shouldn’t be attracted to someone who hurt me twice within a week of knowing me, but I can’t help but feel a little something deep inside of me, when I look at August sitting this relaxed on my couch.

‘You want my crusts?’ I ask him, holding out my plate to him.

‘Of course.’

I can’t help but scoot a little closer to him, so I can hand him the plate a bit better. Maybe it’s because I’m touch starved, maybe it’s because I never had this much male attention (insults or not) before. It’s just really nice being around a man, especially August. I didn’t want to admit it, but I enjoyed every moment of him being overprotective of me in the stadium and how he wiped my hands clean in the restaurant.

That never happened to me before.

‘You want my last piece?’ August asks me, holding up his slice.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask, already taking it out of his hands.

‘Postive.’

Before I take a bite, I say: ‘You can have this crust again, though.’

He smiles. ‘I was hoping for it.’

We eat in silence, staring at the television, but I’m not even paying attention. My mind is full of thoughts about August and the questions I want to ask later on when we get to know one another better. ‘Here is my crust,’ I say.

‘You know, Mia, you eat shockingly fast.’

I scoff. ‘I do not.’

‘You totally do,’ he argues. ‘And you are also the world’s messiest eater. I don’t know how you do it, but you got sauce on your forehead.’ He leans over to my coffee table and grabs some napkins. ‘Sit still, will you.’

‘I am sitting still!’

‘You’re not. You are fidgety.’

I roll my eyes. ‘First I’m a fast eater, then a messy one and I don’t sit still. I was about to offer you some dessert, but now I’m not so sure, since you are being so damn mean to me right now.’

‘I’m not mean to you,’ he says, his voice all of the sudden a lot lower. He places his hand in the back of my neck, before gently cleaning the corners of my mouth and my forehead, letting out a tsk in a process. August is so close right now, I’m nearly going cross eyed. His rough thumb slowly caresses the delicate skin in my neck. I can feel his warm breath against my lips.

‘You want dessert?’ I ask him after I cleared my throat. ‘I have some chocolate pudding. We could eat that.’

August nods. ‘Yeah, I would like that,’ he says, letting me go. ‘Let me help you.’ He stands up as well, holding the plates in his hands. Together we walk to my kitchen and I start preparing the pudding for the both of us.

However, I still feel his hand in my neck. Back when I was in high school in the Netherlands, I was never really in favor of the boys. Besides, I moved a lot and I was pretty much invisible. There was this one time, where it took the teacher almost three weeks to notice me.

Being touched like that, it is a rarity in my dating history. Sure, I’ve had a few kisses, but other than that, I never engaged in anything. Now I’m twenty five and I want it.

So badly.

I look up, only to discover August was already looking at me. ‘What?’ I ask him.

He shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’

We eat the pudding in silence and when it is eight ‘o clock, he decides to leave. We may barely spoken to one another and when we did, it was pretty shallow, really. But I do feel like I got to know August better and he is willing to open himself up to me.

I walk him to the door and I say: ‘Are you willing to hug me goodbye?’

‘I’ll probably see you tomorrow, Mia,’ he says. ‘It’s not like I’m leaving anytime soon.’ Then he seems to realize what he is missing out on. While he rolls his eyes, I spot a grin on his face and he spreads his arms. ‘Come here.’

I let out an excited squeal and I jump up, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He laughs and wraps one arm around my waist, holding me against him.

‘You happy now?’ he asks.

I pull back my face. ‘Delighted, August Walker.’

He places me back on the ground. ‘See you tomorrow?’

‘You bet. Now you’ve hugged me. let me in your place and allowed Bobo in your bed, I think I’m gonna be over all the time.’

◎ ◎ ◎

The entire Monday morning I spend baking. I want to thank August for yesterday and I figured to see if the saying “nothing says loving like something from the oven” is true. I think it might be. I know I always appreciated when mister Toriello made me a pie.

I walk out of my apartment to knock on his door, only to discover his door is slightly ajar. I push it open and peek inside. ‘August?’ I ask with the steaming pie still in my hands. I walk inside, but he isn’t here. Maybe he is out and didn’t close the door right, however that seems so out of character. Leaving his door open like that… That’s weird.

I place the pie on his kitchen island and find a piece of paper to write something on it.

I place the note next to plate and I want to leave the apartment, but my eyes fall on something. It’s one of those yellowish files, you see in programs like NCIS. I know you shouldn’t peek in other peoples stuff and usually I don’t do such thing.

However I can’t help it right now, as the file is like a magnet that pulls me in.

I pull out the file and it confirms my suspicions. That was my name indeed I saw from afar and this file has my DMV photo attached to it with a paperclip.

Why does August have this? I mean, I don’t even know what he does for a living, but why would he have this? What kind of job would require all this information about me?

Oh my, is he a stalker? I know that’s not a profession, but still…

I open the file and see an entire timeline of my life. The car accident, transcripts of my interviews with specialists, my football career. He is even up to date on my Instagram account… I even see he figured out the name of the man who was gawking at me during the game.

What is this?

‘What are you doing here?’ I hear August’s voice behind me. I look over my shoulder and see him standing in the doorway. He looks tired and a bit sweaty. What has he been doing? ‘What do you have there?’

I turn around, as I hold up the yellow folder. ‘Is there a specific reason you have my entire life compiled in one file?’

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