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From: [identity profile]

Hello! Noticed one of your pics of Austin and Tom dancing together on [ profile] strictly_dance, and then hopped over here and you had another lovely Tom/Austin one on your Friends Only banner. I was wondering if you had any more pics of the two of them together that I could use for iconning/picspams etc please, all credited of course! Thanks =)

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2008-12-11 17:59 (UTC) - Expand

From: [identity profile]

Oh my...

These pictures have made my day... :D

From: [identity profile]

Ummm, I think we may be the only two people on the interwebz who 'ship the Tim/Graeme :S Can we be friends please?
ext_442766: (Weasley Twins - Devious)

From: [identity profile]

Hi! I found you through a directory search and we have a TON of interests in common! Along with three friends and loads of communities! So, I was wondering if you'd like to be friends? :-D
(reply from suspended user)

From: [identity profile]

Hey! I saw you had some Goodies slash icons, but I don't think I can see them unless I add you, hope that's ok.

Saw your profile, and I like the wall of ships - have to say I share in most of them.

Also, just out of curiosity, are you taversham off youtube - that put up the awesome Vranch/Slattery vid from Barf Bites Back. If so, i'm humbly indebted to you.

From: [personal profile] irishdf

Hi there. Just wanted to let you know that I've friended you, seeing as you are a font of Werder lore and pics, you talk about VL, and you basically crack me up. Hope that that is okay with you.

Also, thank you ever so much for sharing the screencaps from the Werder 2009 - 2010 DVD. You made my night. :)

(no subject)

From: [personal profile] irishdf - Date: 2010-09-04 19:04 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [personal profile] irishdf - Date: 2010-09-04 22:06 (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

I seriously want fic of Stan and Christophe having some sort of...~moment~, their relationship beginning or ending, or something like that after they've won their titles in Lugano 2010, and that's why they both lose in their first matches at Wimbledon.

This isn't like that, but I hadn't known they both played Lugano last year and I caught this random plotbunny from it. Of Stan sort of doing everything Christophe asks and that's why he left his wife so they could be together, but with Christophe's not so committed. I think it's not very good and I have experimented some with a new style. You might still enjoy it though.

Pairing: Christophe Rochus/Stanislas Wawrinka
Rating: PG

It's not his fault. He knows that. He never made any promises. Only mused aloud a little. It was a flight of fancy. Not a suggestion.

It would be nice. He can't deny that. To spend more time together again. Like before. Seems so long since they had the chance. Never in the same place. Never at the same tournaments. Unless they were to play only Challengers. They could do that. He knows he only has to ask. Lugano had shown that. So he also knows he shouldn't ask. Be the sensible one for a change.

It wouldn't be sensible. It would be stressful. And stupid. And not at all perfect. Saying it'd be perfect won't make it perfect. It'd be hard. There'd be questions. And probably they wouldn't like each other as much. Spending all their time together. Not just twenty or so days per year any more. They have responsibilities to think of. Families and children. People whom they have no right to hurt.

Most of all he knows he doesn't want it. He wants to want it. He likes wanting to want it. But that's all it is. A fantasy. Not a plan. Nor a reality. Something to dream about. Not to aspire towards. It wouldn't work.

So it's not his fault that he was taken too seriously. He didn't ask for this. He didn't ask for anything. He would be happy to just enjoy what they have. Enjoy each other. When they can.

But looking into Stan's face, he knows that's no longer possible. And no matter whose fault it is, it breaks his heart.

From: (Anonymous)

veldig bra

hvorfor ikke:)

From: (Anonymous)

Große Post. Kann nicht warten, bis die nächsten lesen:)

From: (Anonymous)

Lovely scharfe Post. Hätte nie gedacht, dass es so einfach war. Hinsicht auf Sie!

From: [identity profile]

Gosh, I’ve been looking about this specific topic for about an hour, glad i found it in your website!

From: [identity profile]

I don’t bookmark sites but i will bookmark this! LOL!

From: (Anonymous)


Slight AU, Kühnen is Kohli's coach, Kohli is 18/19 (set in the year he lost to Hewitt in Hamburg)

"You can't have sex during tournaments, Kohli. I know you're young, that feels like a tough ask, but it's important. Not necessarily for the physical aspect, but emotionally you need to be focussed on your match, not on anything or anyone else."

Damn it all to hell.

Damn the tournament, damn the rules, and damn his thrice-cursed cock.

Nearly bursting with frustration, Philipp dropped his cramping hand from his sore cock, letting his arm flop onto the wrinkled bedclothes as he bit back a groan of frustration.

Not that Patrik wouldn't know what he was doing. He was only in the next room, and the walls in this hotel were paper-thin. It was times like this that Philipp wished there was a little more distance between them, and that Patrik didn't insist on adjoining rooms all the time. Philipp knew it was mostly to keep tabs on him, but then Philipp had never really begrudged him the contact, knowing well that he was fortunate to have one of the best coaches available. He had learnt more from Patrik than any of the other players his age had learned from their coaches, and although mildly embarrassed by his current condition, he knew that Patrik would never comment on it. The man was serenity personified, even if Philipp was well aware of the price his coach paid for that serenity. The emotional and toll it took upon him to maintain it hour after hour, day after day. Coping with what he perceived to be the failings of his own career, and focussing on ensuring Philipp far surpassed him.

Sometimes, though, he regretted his Patrik's serenity. It made him aloof, a very private man. They didn't have quite the warm, loving relationship Philipp would have preferred. Like Petzschner had with Lars. What he had with Patrik was a strong friendship, but not a close one.

But he banished such thoughts from his mind and returned his attention to his erection.

His poor cock was red, and angry-looking, drooling from the tip. Philipp had never seen how anyone could consider one of these things attractive, but it could certainly give pleasure. If he weren't so God-damn frustrated that it wasn't cooperating.

Closing his eyes, Philipp lay his head back on the pillow. The linen felt cool and clean.

He raised a hand and ghosted it over his chest. After a year with Patrik as his coach and the no-sex rule, he'd had to develop a keen awareness of what he himself liked.

Light touches over ribs ands flanks, harder on nipples and navel - twisting slightly, making them burn.

He burned with need.

His free hand closed over his cock, holding it with the same grip he used on his racquet - and he had heard those jokes, of course - and he stroked himself firmly, his hands still slick with vaseline.

The need grew quickly, but once again he found himself hanging at the edge of the abyss; desperate to fall over, but held back by something.

He couldn't define it, couldn't control it, and it was a terrible feeling, to be right there, on that edge, and unable to step over...

He moaned, deep in his chest, teeth gritted as he stroked harder, making the thin skin of his cock sting, but that wasn't enough. he needed something more... something...

About to scream as the frustration built, unable to stop stroking himself, Philipp writhed on his bed, heedless of the noise he was making, eyes tightly shut, teeth leaving deep white imprints in his lower lip as he fought to overcome his body's inexplicable reluctance to come.

From: (Anonymous)


So caught up in his inner battle was he that Philipp didn't notice the door opening, and didn't notice the form that loomed in the darkness of his room, that stood at the foot of his bed.

He couldn't help but notice the thick, blunt, warm finger that slipped between his asscheeks and pushed slowly into him, sending a searing spike of pleasure through his body.

Shocked, he stiffened, eyes flying open. His hand didn't stop. it was like it wasn't listening to his brain anymore, but his body was still.

The sensation was so new, so powerful, that he thought he might burst into tears.

It was exactly what he wanted.

He looked up, and saw Patrik. Wearing only a dressing gown, one hand at his side, the other between Philipp's legs, the older man shook his head, just enough to make his hair ripple, and then he added a second finger. Like the first, it was slicked with lubricant, and warm and strong, and Philipp nearly wept to feel it.

Patrik's eyes were on him. The Patrik did not look upon him with lust, but there was deep affection in his eyes, and an eagerness to his gaze as it stroked over Philipp's body, a near-physical caress.

The fingers moved and Philipp's body took over abruptly.

His legs came up, knees high, he exposed himself to that gaze, and shoved his body down on the fingers that touched him so intimately, and it was so close to perfect that he screamed with relief.


This was what he wanted, what he had needed so badly.

With his eyes on Patrik's, he fucked himself roughly on those fingers, one hand digging into the bed for leverage, the other pumping his cock frantically.

There, in his bed, before his coach's eyes, Philipp lost control. Gave it up; completely, willingly, eagerly.

He became a creature of sensation, and he reveled in it.

Patrik stood between his raised legs, and watched with appreciation, and approval.

It didn't last, Philipp wanted it to go on forever, but his body was determined now and he shoved himself down one more time, hard, and Patrik's fingers pressed the spot inside, the one Philipp had been told about but never felt, and he came so hard that his jaw snapped and his brain rattled and he thought he might pass out.

The relief was so great that he just lay there, unable to breathe, for as long as he could.

He felt his Patrik gently remove his fingers, wiping them casually on a tissue from the box Philipp kept by his bed.

The Patrik tenderly cleaned him off, and pulled the covers over him, and tucked him in, brushing Philipp's hair from his sweaty forehead, where it had stuck.

Philipp watched him, and thought that he should be ashamed, or at least embarrassed, but all he felt was grateful.

Grateful and loved.

Patrik bent over the bed and whispered into his ear, the first time he'd spoken since coming into the bedroom.

"Rest now."

His lips brushed Philipp's forehead and he straightened, and turned to leave, but the younger man reached out with a still-trembling hand and caught the sleeve of his robe.

"Patrik...?" He had to ask, to know.

Patrik turned back, and graced him with a smile. The small private smile that Philipp had previously only seen shared with others. People that he knew Patrik cared for, and respected, and loved.

"On occasion, Philipp..." He paused, and touched the hand that grasped at him, just a brush of fingertips across the back of it. Philipp shivered.

"On occasion, I'll help."

Philipp let his hand drop, and his coach left.

Sleep claimed him quickly in the wake of such a powerful experience, and his dreams were hazy, but pleasant. He was positive that there was something in them about a tall, aloof tennis coach that hid a soul of poetry.

Perhaps that was a cliche, but it was one he welcomed eagerly.

From: (Anonymous)


My favorite allways is Nadal.I thing, he can beat Djokovic, if hardest working...Nadal will first again in 2012.


From: (Anonymous)

You wanted a Jedi AU...

They were early for their appointment which wasn't all that unusual, given Patrik's propensity for excessive punctuality. Rather be early than late, he would say, so they would turn up ages before anyone else and sit around staring at empty spaces.

Naturally the Council Chamber was empty when they arrived. As the doors closed behind them, Philipp waved his hands about in mild annoyance.

"You see, Master, I'd told you we'd be early. I could have slept in another half hour at least!"

"Lazy, Padawan." Patrik walked over to Mace's seat and sat, tucked his arms in his sleeves. "You could always do some exercises while we wait."

"I suppose I could. May I say that you look good sitting there. I've always believed it's where you deserve to be."

The singled raised eyebrow was eloquent, and Philipp's smile widened. "Well, it's true. You know you deserve it."

"Deserve, how? Through age? Through having survived as long as I have? I think not. One has to be something of a politician to grace these comfortable cushion's with one's behind. I'd rather be out in the air doing things than sitting here wrangling with Jedi such as myself."

Philipp shrugged out of his robe and tossed it over to Yoda's seat before bending to stretch his leg tendons and do some quick warmups. "I think they enjoy it - you seem to afford them more emotional excitement than just about any other Jedi I've heard of. You have, if I may say so, a reputation."

"I do, do I?" The tone was mild and slightly amused. It sent a small trickle of pleasure along Patrik's skin, making him goosebump. Why do I always get excited when he does that? And does he know he does that? He looked across into the bright blue watching gaze and choked a laugh back. Of course he does. But why now, of all times??

"What else do I have a - reputation - for?" The tone was now definitely silky and Philipp responded by moving into slow motion, something closer to a dance than a training move.

"Among a very closed circle," he said, as his body spun slowly on one foot, "you have a reputation for wicked timing." He continued to spin and slid across the cool stone towards Patrik. His own timing was perfect; he came to a sliding stop on his knees in front of Patrik's legs. Breathing only slightly harder than normal, he stayed on his knees and rested both hands on Patrik's slightly parted legs. "And timing is so important, as you've told me many times."

Nodding, his Master looked down, his features totally calm. "You have an excellent memory. I've noticed this about you. "

Greatly daring, Philipp ran one hand along the inside of one thigh. "Praise from my Master is appreciated." How far will he let me take this, with the Council due to arrive at any moment. He watched the small twitch of Patrik's nostrils as his hands reached the warm hardness between his legs..

From: (Anonymous)

Re: You wanted a Jedi AU...

"I sense you - want something - Padawan." A small catch in the voice, noticeable only to someone who knew him well.

"Hmm. Let me see." Philipp moved the other hand along the other thigh, pushed the legs further apart. He slid further forward, his knees up against the front of the seat, and bent down to press his face against the fabric of Patrik's leggings, right there where it was being pushed hungrily forward. "I'm not sure. I feel something - growing - in the Force."

He stroked his face back and forth, slowly pushing against Patrik's erection with his cheeks and chin. He moved one hand up, slipped it under the sash and belt and unsnapped the fastenings of Patrik's leggings, pushed his hand inside and touched his skin.

There was a slight indrawn hiss of breath as Philipp lifted the heavy balls and cock out from the confining cloth. As he stroked the large twitching penis with familiar affection, he cast a quick look up at his Master's flushed face. "I don't know what poor Master Windu would say if he came in now and found us like this. And in his chair no less."

"Mace Windu," Patrik responded placidly, "makes as much noise as a Bantha on heat. I can sense him coming a mile away."

It was irresistible. "While I can sense you coming right here.." And he bent forward, took the gold ring in his teeth and used it to pull the rigid cock into his mouth.

Two large hands stole behind his head as Patrik arched forward with a wordless moan, pushing himself into Philipp's throat. He loved making Patrik loose control, loved feeling the veneer of culture slip away from him, loved sensing the civilized Jedi turn into the impassioned lover. Only for me, you do this only for me.

He worked his lips and tongue, relaxed his throat so that Patrik could push deep inside him, so deep that he was lifted off the cushion with each push - and Philipp sensed something, heard a sound behind him and Patrik was grabbing him, hauling him to his feet and pulling desperately at his clothes.

The door opened just as Patrik pulled his tunic over his all-too-evident erection. Philipp still on his knees, mouth open in surprise as he heard the familiar shuffle of small alien feet.


Oh Sith, it's Yoda!

He turned slowly, schooling his expression, seeing the small green figure standing just inside the door. He bowed his head slightly.

"Master Yoda."

Old eyes watched him, inscrutable. "Padawan Kohlschreiber." He moved forward towards his seat, nodding up at the flushed face of his ex-Padawan. "Patrik. Flushed, you are. I hope it is no sickness you are coming down with."

He didn't see, Philipp thought with a rush of relief as he collected his robe so that Yoda could climb into his seat. Then he caught sight of Patrik's deepening flush and thought again. No-one would know Yoda as well as his one-time student. No-one would be better able to read that little alien's mind. He climbed to his feet, straightened his tunic and cleared his throat.

Before he could speak the door opened again and Mace entered, chatting to two other Council members. Patrik had already moved next to him and Philipp could sense his frustration, both physical and emotional. He couldn't imagine how Patrik had managed to control himself, but control himself he did, delivering his report in his normal dry, efficient and precise manner, calling on Philipp for supportive or ancillary information and otherwise being the perfect Jedi Master.

Yoda said little. He watched them both, tapped his gimer stick against his foot occasionally and Philipp thought, he's torturing us, that's what it is. Letting us cook slowly before he drops us into the pan.

When the intermittable meeting concluded Patrik stayed to speak to some of the other member's while Philipp stood twitching with impatience by the door. He watched Yoda walk toward him with trepidation.

"Master Yoda, I. . ."

Yoda tapped his leg with his stick. "When things are not improved by speaking, Padawan, often not to speak is better."

Impulsively, he slipped down to one knee, so that his eyes were level with Yoda. "Doesn't that involve - deception?" he asked quietly.

Re: You wanted a Jedi AU...

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-07-14 19:05 (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

Thought you could do with another distraction, what with today's news. Don't know who you ship Kristof with, so here's some Petzsche/Kohli pr0n. Set over any Davis Cup weekend that they win.

Petzsche stared at his toast, he hated having breakfast alone. Usually at tournaments there would be half a draw's worth of other players up at this time, but Davis Cup was different, meant he wasn't sure when, or even if, he'd have company. There weren't even any other hotel guests up yet, just him and the server all alone in the dining room. He sighed. And then smiled, as he saw Kohli come through the door, holding a number of envelopes and an intriguingly large package.

"Morning. Getting your post delivered here now? What've you got there, anyway?" Petzsche leaned nosily across the table as Kohli dropped everything and sat down.

"None of your business," Kohli retorted tetchily, putting it to one side and opening a letter instead.

"I bet it's something embarrassing."

"Is not."

"Is too. Verbotene Liebe anniversary DVD or something."

Kohli looked briefly pained. "Is not."

"So show me it then."

Kohli sighed and dropped the rest of the post, unopened on the table. "I'd forgotten how annoying you were in the mornings."

Petzsche grinned, and sat back with the complacency of one who knows surrender when he hears it. It had been a while since the last tie, and they never spent so much time together otherwise - they had their own friends on the tour. But he hadn't forgotten at all how grumpy Kohli was in the mornings, or how easy it generally was to get him to do whatever Petzsche wanted. (He'd never really dwelt on this, naturally assuming that everybody should do as he wanted.)

"You won't be interested," Kohli said, tearing at the brown paper. "It's only an experimental racuqet handle. I was watching Battistone play and wanted to have a try."

Petzsche smiled. "Gonna take up a jump serve too? Not sure your knees will take that. What?" He frowned, as Kohli, having opened the box, had gone a funny colour.

"Nothing," said Kohli, in rather a strangled voice. "There's just been a mistake, that's all. Not what I asked for. I'll, er, send it back." And he got up, scrunching the wrapping together hastily.

Petzsche, curiosity well and truly piqued by now, made a grab at the box. Kohli didn't let go and it tipped, whereupon something rolled out onto the table.

They stared at it in silence for a long moment.

"It's - bloody hell Kohli."

"I didn't order it!"

"It's enormous!"

"I didn't - " Kohli emptied the box upside down and scanned the packing note frantically. "There. Look. Lionel Burt. Custom racquet - not - not - "

"Not big purple plastic cock?" Petzsche supplied helpfully. "It's okay Kohli, I believe you." Petzsche was laughing so hard by now he had tears in his eyes.

Kohli sat down again, heavily, and started to laugh himself.

"You know what's really funny?" he said, after a second. Petzsche looked enquiring and he giggled. "Well, presumably somewhere, there's a person that's paid for this. And they're probably going to get - "

"A tennis racquet!" Petzsche started laughing again. "Oh God, you're right. They're going to be so confused. I mean - maybe they'll try and use that -"

"Both ends!" Kohli exclaimed, and they laughed helplessly hard.

From: (Anonymous)

The offending object lay between them on the table. Kohli seemed unwilling to touch it, so Petzsche promptly picked it up and brandished it at him.

"Put it down!" Kohli waved him off, looking vaguely alarmed.

"It won't bite," Petzsche grinned. "So, what are you going to do with it? Hey, you should give it a name."

"Get off! I'm sending it back, obviously."

"What! Why?"

Kohli looked at him, bemused. "What do you mean, why? What would I want with a fucking great dildo?"

Petzsche waggled his eyebrows. "Well. Y'know."


Petzsche stared. "No. You really don't, do you. Well, what do you think?"

Kohli's eyes widened, and he made a face. "Ugh."

Petzsche shrugged. "Whatever." He looked at his watch. "I'd better be off. Kasi asked me to wake him for a run. See ya." He stood up and picked up his jacket.

"Are you saying you'd - " Kohli was still trying to come to terms with the idea that a man might have a use for such an alarming implement.

"Noo. But then, I'm not a poof," said Petzsche cheerfully, disappearing out the door.

"Neither am I!" yelled Kohli after him, but the only answer was a snigger and an enquiring look from the waiter behind the breakfast bar. He hastily tried to hide the dildo from sight under his post, and sighed.

Eventually, spurred on by the reasonable fear that Patrik - or, unreasonably, his mother - might appear and see it - he forced himself to pick it up.

"Pull yourself together Philipp, you're not a bloody nun," he muttered, wondering what the hell to do with it. Putting it back in the package it had arrived in, he decided to take it back to his room, and wondered if he just left it in a drawer whether it would magically disappear like so much of his other stuff that he'd left in drawers in hotel rooms over the years had done.

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From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-07-15 00:37 (UTC) - Expand

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From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-07-15 00:38 (UTC) - Expand

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From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-07-15 00:39 (UTC) - Expand

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From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-07-15 00:42 (UTC) - Expand

From: (Anonymous)

The Tucker Vacation Destinations and hotel places that you can away to.

thank you - #servername is the best site
מורנגה ( נני מקפי 2: הקסם חוזר (
אקזיט דרך החנות ( ג'נטלמן קטלני (

From: (Anonymous)

The Support potty away to Vacation Destinations and supplementary zealand provincial places that you

thank you - #servername is the best site
הסיפור שלא יסופר ( מת לצחוק (
אוהבת, לא אוהב ( התמוטטות (

From: (Anonymous)

When the first Whirlpool Duet album was released in December 2001 came as a surprise to the public

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From: (Anonymous)


Just a start, will continue another time.

"I was thinking, maybe we could play some doubles together sometime? Jurgen's having a couple of weeks off next month, but I want to play through..." Petzsche trailed off as he realised Kohli was no longer even pretending to pay attention to him.

Kohli has breathing a little heavily, his mouth partly open, and his eyes were unblinking as he stared across the room. Petzsche followed Kohli's eyes and saw Michael Berrer sat reading a newspaper. He sighed.

"I'm thinking of becoming a woman." Petzsche exclaimed a bit louder than he'd intended to, as it attracted some attention from other players in the players' lounge. Only not from Kohli. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so he slapped Kohli round the head.

"Hey! What was that for?" Kohli tried to glare at Petzsche, but it wasn't very effective as his eyes were still on Michael.

"You really like him, huh?" Petzsche questioned gently, looking down at his own hands.

"Ye- What, no! I only have eyes for you." At least Kohli gave him his full focus now.

"Sure, seems that way."

"I'm sorry," Kohli lifted Petzsche's chin so they were eye to eye. "I love you."


"But...just look at him." Kohli's eyes flickered back to the hundred and ninety-four centimetre tall, one hundred kilogramme man sat opposite. "Imagine him holding you. Wouldn't you feel safe in those arms?"

"So you don't feel safe in my arms?" Petzsche moved back from Kohli, wishing he'd never started this conversation.

"That's not what I meant," Kohli sighed. "Forget it. Doubles? You want to play doubles."

Petzsche nodded, not sure whether he was grateful for the change of subject or not.

From: (Anonymous)

Sometimes it was all he could do not to scream when Jürgen pounded into him like that. Philipp would bite pillows, blankets, his own hand. Anything to help him stay quiet. It would be unfortunate if anybody discovered them fucking during a tournament.

Jürgen didn't seem to care about that though. In fact, he seemed to try his damnedest to make Philipp scream when he knew very well that he shouldn't. Every long deep stroke into Philipp's body hit his prostate. Jürgen reached around for Philipp's cock and stroked it steadily. When Jürgen ran his thumb over the head, that simple move pushed Philipp over the edge. He moaned and thrashed as he came, trying to muffle his groans into the pillow.

Jürgen leaned forward and pressed his chest to Philipp's back. He gripped Philipp's hips tightly and thrust into him a final time. Philipp felt his partner spurting inside him. Jürgen groaned softly into Philipp's ear as if to show how easy it was for him to keep quiet. They collapsed onto the bed together, breathing heavily.

Once Philipp's breathing returned to normal, he turned toward Jürgen. "Why do you always have to do that? You know I have trouble staying quiet."

Jürgen smiled and ran a hand through Philipp's hair. "I think it's one of your more endearing traits."

"Well how do you do it? Isn't it hard not to make noise?" Philipp almost pouted.

Jürgen's smile widened."It just takes practice."

You can pick which Philipp it is ;)
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