#Award-Winning Trainers

[kagooleo]

here's a finished belated bday comm for @wyvernity of their soulsilvershipping :D!!! I was honestly really happy with the turnout for the piece so I did go a lil ham on their faves (～￣▽￣)～

i've still got 2 commission slots open on my kofi for both chibi and sketch pieces if anyone is interested :V

[coolpointsetta]

iwaizumi hajime (47) athletic trainer who publishes award winning research, becoming a pioneer in his field. he goes to conferences and presents said research for thousands of people. there are techniques named after him, he gets to write a textbook. his work is included in dozens of textbooks. he is invited for guest lectures at colleges and universities in nearly every country; including, but not limited to, his alma mater in california.

the topic of said research? knee recovery in athletes and recognizing the signs of the particular injuries before they start, stopping the injuries before they even happen. the goal of said research? to maximize an athlete’s performance and lengthen their career and limit muscle fatigue and surgeries even after they retire.

he is asked many questions about his research, but the one posed most often is why. why would he chose this topic.

“it is simple,” he always says. “i want to help others. this felt like the best way to do it.”

others, he says; he means it of course. he wants to help others and he has, he has helped thousands of athletes across the world. but to those who know him, they know it all ties back to one person.

in all of his published works, oikawa’s data is present. his x-rays and scans and initial prognosis, his routines and procedures and how the exercises made him feel. all of it compared to iwaizumi’s newly developed research and routines. oikawa’s name is omitted for privacy, but everyone knows it.

obviously, iwaizumi needed to gather data from hundreds of participants, but the same images and scans and quotes are all pulled from the same person.

iwaizumi loves his husband to the point of rewriting the story that oikawa would never make it as a professional athlete. watching tooru never give in to the critics was the whole he reason he chose this field in the first place, after all. hajime healed his injury with his own two hands and stood beside him every step of the way. iwaizumi loves him to the point of creation.

because all of it, after all this time, was for oikawa.

[maxarchive]

MAX-IMUM ATTACK 2017 Season Photos and words by Darren Heath

Monday lunchtime, Heathrow Terminal 5. Standing next to the slowly revolving baggage carousel, a fresh-faced, slightly awkward-looking - just out of his teens - young man is awaiting the arrival of his chattels.

Dressed in bland black trainers, similarly hued skinny jeans and an oversized hoody, this Young Turk ain’t winning any style awards. iPhone in hand, he’s busy swiping the screen in that head-bowed social media style billions of us now ‘enjoy’.

Max Verstappen doesn’t really do flash. He couldn’t look more ‘normal’. Yet put him in a racing car and he’s just about the most special talent to arrive on motor racing’s top step for decades.

Schumacher-esque – Michael of course! – is a term increasingly heard up and down the F1 paddock, such is the impact the Netherlands’ premier sportsman is now making.

I can see it too.

The fresh-faced 16-year-old boy who was, upon his arrival, so ignorantly dismissed by many within the sport is rapidly becoming a man. It’s amazing how quickly young sportsmen living life in the public gaze assume adulthood. Just take a look at Sebastian Vettel. The gawky kid of 2009 became the handsome dude of 2010!

What sets the potentially great apart from the mediocre? What makes Max Verstappen so, so much more special than, say, Carlos Sainz?

I guess it’s the whole package: the look; the mien; the steely character honed to be a racer almost from before he could walk; the utterly uncompromising way he dismisses any questioning of his racecraft; the toys-out-of-the-pram reaction to harsh penalties; the fast straight-out-of-the-box attacking style; and the rapier-like overtaking ability, the like of which we haven’t seen for many a year. Such was Max’s impact on the art of passing and defending, the rules had to be rewritten!

The way the car looks through the turns, the application of throttle, steering and immensely late braking. Metronomic in his blisteringly fast lap time delivery, this boy has the lot. He IS the future of Formula 1.

In so, so many ways – but let’s hope not all – Max is the new MSC.

Racing in an aggressive and forceful style often results in on-track contretemps with some of his more seasoned rivals. No matter, Max takes no prisoners, batting away questions about the legality of some of his racing moves with a dismissive arrogance that’s strangely appealing in its delivery.

Up to speed now and surely making Dan Ricciardo question his team-leading abilities, Verstappen is unquestionably Red Bull’s main man.

Off-track too, Max is sorted. Guided by his F1-experienced father, the young Verstappen has an able and well-qualified navigator at the helm. Learning from his own ill-advised 1990s F1 driving career decisions, Jos pays absolute attention so as to ensure his son maximises the opportunities on offer.

With top-drawer drivers in short supply, Red Bull had better make damned sure their 2019-and-beyond engine supply is top-notch. The bidding war for Max’s signature is already in full swing. Ferrari and Mercedes are enviously eyeing the Dutchman’s abilities with covetous desire.

It’s easy to forget that Max is only 20 years old. Way ahead in racing driver maturity - a relative term! – than so many millions of a similar age, Max has appeared mentally developed beyond his years since first he appeared in the F1 paddock at Spa 2014. It struck me then how entirely capable this 16-year-old boy was dealing with multiple language questions and untold camera lenses. Listening to his interrogator politely before answering calmly and intelligently, Max appeared born to the role…

Fast forward to now and Verstappen is a multiple grand prix winner and 2018 title-chasing challenger. Part of the new breed of F1 racers, Max leads the pack. Publicly respectful of his rivals, although privately dismissive of many, he well knows his place among the potentially great.

Michael Schumacher once opined – in an interview I photographed – that his father had advised him to heed well the arrival on the scene of the next great talent. The one who’d challenge and quickly replace the dominant male. Well, Lewis, Sebastian and Fernando, that man has arrived.

You’d best heed Herr Schumacher’s words well…

[ink-n-shadow]

https://www.tumblr.com/ink-n-shadow/757172339241811968/watching-mens-gymnastics-at-the-olympics-has-me

Go ahead right this for me dog 🫱🏻💵

bestie you don't even have to PAY ME (i'm obsessed with this trope)

gymnast!simon would be an absolute superstar on high bar and rings, the thick bulging muscles of his biceps and upper body proof of just how strong that man would be. like that man would be a world champion, with more gold and silver medals than most of the guys he competes with. but he's humble about it, rarely ever giving more than a few words during interviews and cheeks blooming red when interviewers and commentators alike praise him for his almost inhuman abilities.

teammate!johnny, on the other hand, would be everything but humble. both him and the rest of the gymnastics world knew he was an all-around champion, with multiple medals and awards tucked neatly under his belt. he would be leaner than simon, arm muscles not nearly as girthy but with thick hairy thighs the size of literal tree trunks to show just how much power was packed into his smaller body. johnny would love the spotlight (as any good team leader would), eagerly boasting about the strength of his team and just how easy it would be for them to win gold at that the upcoming olympics.

but both johnny and simon knew that they would be nothing if it weren't for you. you were at every practice, every meet, every team meeting—just like every other athletic trainer employed by their coaches, but you were just different.

they enjoyed the way you gently tended to their sore muscles and bruises, fingertips soft against their calloused skin as you wrapped their much bigger muscles in tape and gauze. they loved having conversations with you, listening to your ramblings about current standings, other opponents, or how well they were doing in upgrading their skills. it was never just ego-boosting with you—you would actually critique their work, giving them tips on how best to avoid injuring themselves and how to protect their bodies for longevity's sake.

it would be a competition between them of who could impress you more, with johnny trying desperately to learn the most intricate vault imagineable in hopes that you would tell him how amazing he was that night. simon, on the other hand, liked showing off his strength and endurance, noticing the way you seemed to never be able to take your eyes off of him when he would swing around the high bar or hang from the rings.

(and maybe they enjoyed watching you squeeze your thighs together every time you got too close to them, with rosy cheeks and glossy eyes peeking up at them like you were imagining them breaking you in half.)

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: The Real MVP

————————————————————————-

Summary: Flashforward. Joe wins MVP after an amazing comeback in the ‘24-25 season. In his speech, he has to thank the person who supports him like no other, the real MVP.

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

*NFL Honors for ‘24-’25 season*

After a hectic day of running the household alone, I settled on the couch with Tyson and Miles to watch the NFL Honors ceremony.

Joe had his name in the MVP running, and I couldn't be more proud of him.

Last season was less than stellar, with his calf strain causing him to miss camp and his season-ending injury serving unfinished business on a silver platter.

This season he showed the world who the fuck Joe Burrow was.

Not that he felt the need to, but Joe showed NFL viewers that he was worth every penny of his contract extension.

Throughout the ceremony, Tyson and Miles were scanning the audience for their Dad. They'd “helped” Joe pick out his outfit just a few days ago and were so excited to see him in it.

When it got to the MVP category, I held my breath and closed my eyes.

And the 2024 Most Valuable Player is…

My heart was beating out of my chest.

Joe Burrow!

Tyson and Miles stood up on the couch and started jumping up and down, and for once, I didn't get onto them about it.

“Daddy won!” - Tyson

“Daddy won!” - you repeated

My heart soared when Joe walked to the stage, feeling slightly nostalgic when I got deja vu about when he won the Heisman in college.

Joe started his speech by thanking his coaches, coordinators, and trainers before he began tearing up thanking his family.

My eyes matched Joe’s misty ones, just like they did at the Heisman years ago.

“But- I uhm need to thank the real MVP.” - Joe

When Joe said those words, I shook my head, thinking he was going to mention Kid Cudi or Spongebob.

“She wasn't able to be here tonight because she's too busy in Cincinnati being the best mom ever, but I would like to mention my wife. Thank you for always being my biggest cheerleader, y/n. You've been one of my biggest support systems since I was a scrawny senior in high school. I will always be grateful for everything you’ve done and continue to do that has made me the man and player that I am today. I'll admit, I was super nervous for tonight, and I called y/n in the bathroom. Her voice alone calmed me down, but the words gave me enough confidence to leave my hiding spot in the bathroom stall. Thank you for being my best friend, y/n. I love you more than life.” - Joe

Tears streamed down my face as I listened to his sweet words.

“Oh, and thanks for this award. Who Dey!” - Joe

With that, Joe left the stage and walked back to his seat, more in love than ever.

He'd never felt so happy.

When I heard my phone ding, I thought it would be Robin to point out Joe’s sweet words, but instead, it was Mr. MVP himself.

Did you watch my speech? :)

Yes. Currently crying. I love you so much, Mr. MVP.

I'll only be Mr. MVP if you'll be Mrs. MVP.

I’m not a player, though. 🤨

His next text gave me butterflies, it amazes me that his effect on me hasn't changed even after all of our years together.

Most valuable person, baby. 😁

————————————————————————-

Authors note: short as heck but whatever

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed!

[kaisserin]

SCUDERIA

You met at a Ferrari event. You and your black stallion performed to the music from Formula 1 for the presentation of the new car Scuderia. Sebastian Vettel was there. You liked the German champion right away. Kind, friendly, sociable. He didn't even stop asking about the horse's condition after a long performance.

A couple of days after that, he texted you. You've been texting almost all night. The correspondence turned into friendly meetings. Friendly meetings in dating.You kissed wherever you were sure the cameras wouldn't catch you.

You were both professional athletes who didn't like noise. Quiet happiness was better for you.

That was until you were called up as a rider from your country for the Olympic Games. The program has been approved. You and your steed were supposed to repeat your performance from the Ferrari event.

Equipment, a faithful horse under the saddle, familiar music are the key to your success. But this competition was different from the previous ones in that this time your boyfriend was sitting in the stands wearing a cap and sunglasses to disguise himself.

The Olympics were your triumph. Thanks to your performance on the first day, your national team took the first place. And on the second day of the competition, you win the individual competition.

On the podium, you can't help but scream with delight and don't notice how you kiss the medal, repeating the gesture of celebrating your beloved. You look at the stands, wave at them and show the heart with your palms. So it seems to the cameras. In fact, it's all for one person who smiles and proudly waves the flag of your country, supporting you.

And then something happens that is not included in the rules of awarding. You turn to your horse, who has been standing with the trainer all this time, approach him, stroke his velvet nose, and then kneel in front of him and bow several times. One-on-one like Sebastian in India back in 2013.

You don't notice Vettel disappearing from the podium. And only after the victory lap does he come up to you. Without glasses and a cap, allowing the cameras to recognize him. You groan and smile at his open appearance. Sebastian strokes your horse's neck, and then gets down on one knee, being level with your ankle and pulls out a red velvet box from his pocket. Inside there is something you didn't dare to dream about.

He smiles slyly and asks in a light manner familiar only to him:

-Do you agree that both Scuderia (scuderia means stable from Italian) have Vettel within their walls?

I will be glad not only to receive your likes, but also to feedback💚💚💚

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Barney Ross

Dov-Ber Rosovsky was a world-champion boxer and injured World War II hero whose fierce Jewish pride made him an icon to American Jews.

Dov-Ber was born in New York in 1909, the son of a Talmudic scholar who fled to America after surviving a pogrom in Belarus. Dov-Ber grew up in Chicago, helping out in his father’s small grocery store in a poor neighborhood and studying to be a rabbi.

His life was changed forever when his father was shot dead resisting a robbery at his store. Dov-Ber’s mother suffered a nervous breakdown and the kids were farmed out to foster homes.

Dov-Ber became bitter and angry. He turned his back on religion, changed his name to Barney Ross, and took a job working for Al Capone. Barney’s goal was to make enough money to buy a house and reunite his family. He soon became such an effective street fighter, however, that he gave professional boxing a try. Strong, fast, and determined, “Barney” became a world champion in the three different weight classes. He was known for his exceptional stamina and his street smarts.

In the 1930’s, when Hitler was rising to power, Barney Ross became a hero to American Jews by showing pride in his heritage and taking a public stand against Nazi Germany.  He was determined to end each fight on his feet to show that Jews fight and don’t go down. In Barney’s final fight, he defended his title against fellow three-division world champion Henry Armstrong. Barney got brutally pummeled and his trainers begged him to let them stop the fight, but he was determined to stay on his feet. He’d never been knocked out in his career and wasn’t going to start now. He retired from boxing in his early 30’s with a record of 72 wins, 4 loses, 3 draws, and two no decisions, with 22 wins by knockout. He achieved his goal of having no career knockouts.

After retiring from the ring, Barney/Dov-Ber enlisted in the US Marine Corps to fight in World War II. The Marines wanted to keep him stateside as a celebrity morale-booster, but Barney insisted on fighting for his country. He was sent to Guadalcanal in the South Pacific. During his time in Guadalcanal, Barney became friends with Chaplain Frederic Gehrig. Father Gehrig found an old pump organ on the island, and Barney was the only one who could play it. On Christmas Eve, before Barney and his fellow Marines were to go to battle, Gehrig asked him to play “Silent Night” and other Christmas songs for the troops. Barney happily obliged, finishing off the concert with “My Yiddishe Momma,” the song he used to play when he entered the boxing ring. Father Gehrig would later describe Barney Ross as a “national treasure.”

One night, Barney and three other soldiers were trapped under enemy fire. All four were wounded but Barney was the only one able to continue fighting. He gathered his comrades’ weapons and fought 22 Japanese soldiers, killing them all. Two of the American soldiers died, but Barney carried the third man to safety, even though the soldier weighed 230 pounds, while the wounded Barney weighed only 140! For his courage, Barney Ross was awarded a Silver Star and a citation from President Roosevelt.

Barney was hospitalized for his battle injuries, and the pain was so bad that he became dependent on morphine. After the war, he returned to America and opened a bar lounge. However, his drug addiction intensified as he turned to heroin, which was easier to obtain than morphine. Barney became hooked on heroin, an addiction that cost him $500 a day, as well as his marriage, his business and his life savings. Finally he hit rock bottom, and checked into a veteran’s recovery facility. He kicked his habit once and for all, and became a public speaker who educated high school students about the danger of drugs.

In the 1960’s, Barney made his living as a celebrity spokesman. After a brutal struggle with throat cancer, Barney Ross died in 1967 at age 57.

For his wartime heroism and for modeling Jewish strength and pride, we honor Dov-Ber “Barney Ross” Rosovsky as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[smolwritingchick]

The Bangtan Gal Masterlist

Author's Note: Hey! I wrote this story back in 2016 on some fanfic websites and am bringing it back as I edit the chapters. I wanted to put my perspective and imagination on what if BTS had a black girl in their group from America. This'll be a long story starting from their debut so enjoy the ride!

I have so many chapters already written. I had stopped in the story around late 2016 before the MAMA Awards. As I wrote this story over the years I wanted this character to be relatable and grow as a performer as well as go through hardships. It'll be a slow start but it will get better as the chapters go on, I hope you give it a chance.

This will mainly start with friendship. Not just the character and the love interest. I didn't want to rush things and I tried my best to add a lot of bonding and cute moments. This is a SLOW BURN with my OC and Jungkook. The two will not become a couple until 2016.

I'm also on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own

----

Profile Of Jennie

Chapter 1- The Foreign Trainee

Chapter 2- The Debut

Chapter 3- Rookie King Episode 1

Chapter 4- Rookie King Episode 2

Chapter 5- Rookie King Episode 3

Chapter 6- Rookie King Episode 4

Chapter 7- Rookie King Episode 5

Chapter 8- Rookie King Episode 6

Chapter 9- Rookie King Episode 7

Chapter 10- Rookie King Episode 8

Chapter 11- We're Proud of You

Chapter 12- They're My Family

Chapter 13- Boy In Luv

Chapter 14- Look Forward To White Day

Chapter 15- Going to SOPA

Chapter 16- Spending White Day With BTS

Chapter 17- Just One Day

Chapter 18- American Hustle Life Episode 1

Chapter 19- American Hustle Life Episode 2

Chapter 20- American Hustle Life Episode 3 (Yoongi Fluff & Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 21- American Hustle Life Episode 4 (Yoongi Fluff!)

Chapter 22- American Hustle Life Episode 5

Chapter 23- American Hustle Life Episode 6

Chapter 24- American Hustle Life Episode 7

Chapter 25- I Found It In Big Hit

Chapter 26- BTS China Job

Chapter 27- KCON 2014

Chapter 28- American Hustle Life Episode 8

Chapter 29- Personal Trainer? (Jungkook fluff at the end!)

Chapter 30- War of Hormone (Major Jungkook fluff! One of my favs)

Chapter 31- You Are Special (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 32- You're Easy To Mess With

Chapter 33- Mama Awards 2014 (Jungkook fluff and jealous Jungkook!)

Chapter 34- Let's Name It Iron Man (Namjoon fluff and Jungkook fluff)

Chapter 35- BTS Now

Chapter 36- My Ideal Type

Chapter 37- Running Man (Major Jungkook fluff! One of my favs!)

Chapter 38- I'm Lacking

Chapter 39- How Much You're Loved

Chapter 40- I Need U (Major Jungkook Fluff and Suga Fluff!)

Chapter 41- And What If I Don't? (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 42- BTS Now 2

Chapter 43- Our First Win

Chapter 44- He's Smitten (Major Jungkook Fluff & Bam Bam Fluff One of my favs!)

Chapter 45- BTS in Kota Kinabalu

Chapter 46- BTS Festa

Chapter 47- Two Different Pages (RM Fluff and Jungkook Fluff!)

Chapter 48- Don't Steal The Beef!

Chapter 49- Distressed (Jungkook Fluff!)

Chapter 50- Payback (Jungkook Fluff!)

Chapter 51- Dope

Chapter 52- One Person Won't Ruin This

Chapter 53- I Think I Love Her

Chapter 54- Rekindle (MAJOR Jungkook fluff and one of my FAVS!)

Chapter 55- BTS Run Episodes 1-3

Chapter 56- BTS GAYO Track 1 & 2

Chapter 57- Tension Escalator (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 58- Fan Sign (some angst but ends in fluff!)

Chapter 59- ISAC 2015 Chuseok Special (one of my favs!)

Chapter 60- Running Man: The Golden Duo (MAJOR Jungkook fluff + suggestive)

Chapter 61- Tense (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 62- Protection Squad (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 63- RUN (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 64- Sweet 18

Chapter 65- Karma (Fight! Flawless Victory!)

Chapter 66- BTS GAYO Tracks 3-9

Chapter 67- BTS RUN Episodes 4-9

Chapter 68- Under The Mistletoe (Jungkook fluff! Kiss!)

Chapter 69- GAYO Daechukje & GAYO Daejejun (Jungkook fluff!)

Chapter 70- Jungkook's Confession (Self Explanatory! MAJOR Jungkook fluff! Almost there! My fav!!)

Chapter 71- You Are In Your Feelings

Chapter 72- You Were Worth The Wait (Start of JenKook!)

Chapter 73- It's About Time

Chapter 74- King of Masked Singer

Chapter 75- Ejected

Chapter 76- White Day (Big Jungkook Fluff!)

Chapter 77- Fire

Chapter 78- Prom (Big Jungkook fluff and smol Jungkook Smut)

Chapter 79- Meeting Shawn Mendes

Chapter 80- Taking Things A Little Further (Jungkook fluff)

Chapter 81- BTS Festa 2016

Chapter 82- K-Con 2016

Chapter 83- I Need You On This

Chapter 84- BTS Bon Voyage Season 1 (Big Jungkook fluff)

Chapter 85- BTS In Dubai

Chapter 86- WINGS 8 (Jungkook fluff)

Chapter 87- Wild N Out (One of my favs!)

Chapter 88- This Is Not A Drill!

Chapter 89- Blood, Sweat, & Tears

Chapter 90- Idol Parents? (Big JK Fluff)

Chapter 91- Tub Big Enough For Two (Big JK Fluff! One of my favs!)

Chapter 92- Thank You (Big Jungkook Fluff! One of my favs!)

Chapter 93- Our First Time (Big Jungkook Fluff + Smut)

The Bangtan Gal Masterlist PART 2

[kamotecue]

stolen glances ✮ l. walti

pairing: lia walti x reader

summary: in which a certain midfielder couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. PWNT!reader

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you kept your eyes ahead, the captain’s armband worn around your left bicep. you took a glance at the other team’s line up to see lia walti turning her head away. you shrugged it off, thinking she was looking at something else when in reality she was looking at you.

you gently swung the arm of your mascot, who turned to you and gave you a soft smile. then it was time to walk out, you heard the filipino fans cheer for you. it was their first time the team has made it into a major tournament.

you watched as the fans sang the national anthem with pride, so with your hand over your chest you sang as well. once both national anthems were sung, it was time for both teams to take a picture for the starting XI. you pulled your hoodie over not realizing two things, your shirt got ridden up and you certainly didn’t realize the certain midfielder had her eyes on your exposed stomach.

as you successfully pulled off the hoodie, she averted her gaze turning to her team and unzipped the trainer jacket handling it to her team’s kit staff. she quickly joined her team, presenting their team’s banner.

as you headed over to your team, taking a spot in the middle of the back row. hali, your fellow co-captain, gave you a nudge before facing the camera. you presented the banner with a small smile, as the picture was taken.

“jusko, kinakabahan ako. [oh my god, i’m nervous.]” you said, as hali laughed and shook her head pushing you to the area where you had to switch banners.

you faced lia as she gave you a small smile, noticing your interaction earlier. you returned it, as you switched banners. then shook hands with the lineswomans, and the ref before heading back to your team for the huddle.

“remember, no matter what the result is we still have two games to change it:” hali said, before you went to your designated spots. you were up front with your fellow striker, sarina bolden.

then the kick off began, in the first half no one was able to score. until a penalty was awarded to switzerland, bachman one of their midfielder’s was the one assigned to take the penalty.

you watched olivia as she moved left and right behind the goal line. and as she ran, she swiftly shoots it, aiming it at the back of the next at the left post. the score being 1-0, the ref blew the whistle signaling the end of the first half.

you headed to the tunnel besides olivia who looked a bit crest-fallen.

“you did well, liv. it’s not easy to save a penalty, don’t blame yourself alright.” you said, as lia watched from the back. a small smile made its way onto her face, as she found you a bit sweet.

“what if we lose?” liv asked

“then we lose, liv, we win as a team and we lose as a team. football is a team sport, i have faith in my team.” you gave your goal keeper a soft smile, before heading into the locker room to receive more tactics from your coach, alen.

you had a water bottle in your hand, taking a few sips from time to time. then everything was a blur, in the 50th minute you received a cross from hali, and went for a header, you watched as it touched the back of the net, making you equalize with switzerland.

you ran to the section of the filipino fans, doing your signature celebration as they screamed. sarina jumping on your back, as you gently wrapped your arms around her legs so she doesn’t fall. sara and angie gently shaking you, which made you laugh.

lia watched as you celebrated the goal, it was philippine’s first goal of the tournament. you had the biggest smile, as she adored it.

but it was over as soon as piubel, swiss’s #17 scored their second goal. you lifted your shirt wiping the sweat of your face, as you turned to your team who looked a bit exhausted, why wouldn’t they be? the amount of shots on target were blocked and saved.

you analyzed the scene, and quickly made a plan. in the 87th minute, flanigan made a cross, delivering it to sarina who went for a header but a swiss defender quickly blocked it, yet it wasn’t enough to fully clear it. barker tapped the ball in, making it hit the back of the net.

you watched as she ran, the defenders chasing afterwards. you simply watched as they celebrated, a small smile making its way to your face.

“idol, pa-picture.” you yelled, catching the attention of sara who snickered at your silliness. you caught the eyes of lia, giving her one of your eyes smiles. but as soon as the game went into extra time, it took three minutes in before lia scored a goal earning making it 3-2, the game had ended as the whistle blew.

you sat on the ground catching your breath, as lia sat beside you.

“you played well.” lia said, as you gave her a small smile.

“you did as well.” you said, as hali called your name making you look at her. she tossed you a bottle of water, or gatorade before she went to the rest of the team.

“want to swap shirts?” lia asked, as you shrugged and gave her a nod. you watched when she played at arsenal. she tugged off her shirt, handing it to you while you took of yours.

“and once everything is over, want to go on a date?” lia asked, as you felt a bit flushed.

“why not, it seems like we will be teammates after all.” you said, as lia furrowed her eyebrows. you laughed at her confused look.

[undead-supernova]

Right Here, Right Now / Masterlist

Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11

plot: corroded coffin's eddie munson agrees to an interview for the first time in three years, alongside a new album that is most definitely about you.

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: talks of familial death, depressing lyricism, angst

wc: 4.1k

note: I also wrote all of the lyrics in this chapter and made the images above of the album's cover and tracklist. I feel so proud of how much my hard work is paying off. DON'T USE THESE LYRICS ANYWHERE ELSE THANK YEW

Just one more mile.

You could do it. No, really, you could.

Tour really was coming up in the next six months and you had to build up your stamina now or else you weren’t going to survive. Things really were better now, though. You’d gotten rid of your personal trainer and switched to someone who did not suggest that you stop eating. It seemed like Sophia was a better fit anyways. If anything, she told you to eat more.

So here you were, on your poor attempt at a night run.

And you promised yourself that you wouldn’t think about him and how his album was dropping any day now.

Definitely, definitely not.

It was nearly midnight anyways, a few out from the witching hour but that’s not how it went for you. If anything, you were cursed with the threat of midnight being the worst hour of each day. It was like some switch flicked on and you were a mess of a woman, splayed out in bed and thinking. Furiously scribbling in a notebook as you lost to the thoughts in your head. Curled up in a ball in the shower, the white noise perfect for your never-ending thinking.

And who could forget sitting in your kitchen with a bowl of Kraft mac and cheese. Don’t forget the thinking.

Thinking about Eddie. His voice. The way he was willing to give you more than you deserved without any rhyme or reason. How desperate you felt to reconnect, to apologize profusely and beg for some semblance of forgiveness.

And now you were here, trying to outrun your problems while watching the headlights passing the windowpane.

Tried to stop thinking about how at any moment, Eddie could show up and you’d fall into his arms without any question. You’d tell him it didn’t matter. None of it did. And he’d say he wasn’t mad anymore and that he missed you and then you’d go on living like you once did.

Before you could lose yourself to wishing on headlights, a notification popped up on your phone.

         Spotify exclusive: Listen to Corroded Coffin’s new album now!

Without any warning, you lost your footing on the treadmill and fell backwards. Hit your head on the floor, stunned. Let the pain throb in your head for only a few seconds before you dragged your body upright and clicked on the album.

Your eyes scanned the track list, heart pumping incessantly as a bead of blood rushed down your forehead. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Quickly, you threw yourself into the shower to wash off before grabbing headphones and padding into your walk-in closet. Situated yourself in the back corner, your body fitting snuggly in isolation. 

And as you pressed that green play button, your grief washed over you at every line you called your favorite.

Welcome Home

         “Dad’s disappearing acts and the award-winning smile 

         saying ‘sure, I’ll be comin’ back’

         Well, I guess we’re both suckers for a little hope every once in a while

         And, mom, is that why you stayed? Waited up praying, decaying all alone

         Just so one day, you’d be able to say, ‘Welcome home’.”

Fever

         “How could you ever fight a fever? God dammit, she’s more than a flame

         Got her pinning me down, locked inside her heat wave

         Sweat dripping, flesh gripping, I melt from her gaze

         Just one more round, promise I’ll behave

         Come on, darling, why don’t you set me ablaze?”

The Cost

         “I ruined all the plans that hadn’t been made

         Loving you as the bellbirds erupted in a haunted chorus

         Rosy pink clouds turned into showers of blood and hate

         I’m trying, baby, I’m trying to find a way out for us

         But isn’t that the cost, darling? 

         Isn’t that the price of being with me?”

Tailor-Made

         “We’re the only ones walking through the neighborhood

         Sweetheart, don’t you think I know how to hide?

         I’d never speak it, but I’d buy every house if I could

         Marry you in secret, raise our kids benevolent and kind.”

Rose Petals (Interlude)

         “Take a boy-turned-man, crucifying himself at your altar

         Convince him your devoted infatuation will never falter

         Paint his skies a vibrant pink then turn him into sheet metal

         Leave him bleeding out, fractured, scattered like rose petals.”

As Good As Dead

         “What’s more cliché than a man saying he’d die without your love

         At least if I had an open vein, I’d feel something better than being numb

         ‘There’s no such thing as fate’ my thoughts screamed so fucking loud

         But there was comfort in blind faith, that ill-fated crowd

         Had a grip on your throat. Shit, maybe it always has

         But now that I’m as good as dead, I can’t help my bitter laugh.”

A Mirage of Lovers

         “There sat Elizabeth and Al,

         on the front porch of their first house

         Blind with momentary affection

         And I swear when I looked at you,

         I thought you were a lasting confection

         But I swear there’s a mirage of lovers

         Blurring in its reflection.”

Deluge

         “It’s all there in my head, all in disarray

         A cesspool of memories, a desperation for change

         Fought for my life, thought it was so I could see you

         Mother, I know that you’re not here, I’m still trying to heal

         But please tell me now that love has always been real

         Yet I wonder if you ever believed it yourself."

Hotwire

         “Al loved a nice Hotwire

         Pull ‘em apart, let them fray, twist ‘em till they go insane

         And, yeah, I guess everyone I love is the same.”

Fallen Hero (Interlude)

         “Every time I pick up a pen

         It’s destined to dry out

         And I refuse to go outside, refuse to call my friends

         What’s the point when they’ll never understand?

         I’ll leave myself behind just to have a pinch of hope

         But I come back down from daydreams covered in blood

         Just gotta learn to change, learn to change

         Learn to accept being the fallen hero."

Intangible

         “There’s beauty in the ways of intangibility 

         Like the touch of a woman in blushing gardens far away

         The curve of her hips blooming in shades of futility

         Laughter billowing like smoke lingering in the archway

         And there’s places she will never be able to evade

         A bouquet, a veil, a lover lying await in the shade.”

Out of My Hands

         “If I could hear your knock, brought back by my revery

         Each rap, each tap still committed to my memory

         But that’s up to you, darling, it’s all up to you

         And it’s the end I’m stalling, just for you

         And I love you, baby. I love you

         I hope you know I always will

         Even if it’s out of my hands.”

Wayne

         “There’s a new family in the trailer, I really wish I could believe it

         'Cause once I thought we'd buckle under the weight of all that labor

         No more scrounging up pennies for another first-aid kit

         And you’re not here, Wayne. No, you’re not here.”

Lighter

         “Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

         Let it flicker, sit by the flame from sunrise ’til noon

         Come running back, consider your exile foregone

         I choose you in the low glow of dusk, love you ‘til dawn.”

Makeup starting to smudge, an outrageously expensive crop top and skirt still on, you threw off your pumps and let your aching feet lead you to the kitchen. Your black, white, and neon orange plaid outfit reflected vibrantly off the refrigerator light as you decided instead to make crescent rolls. Why the fuck not? 

You were absolutely exhausted. Sleep hadn’t been an option for you in the last twenty-four hours, what with Corroded Coffin’s album keeping you awake and the promo you’d done all day. When you’d finally arrived back to your small California home, you were irritated and in desperate need of some food.

However, as the oven began to preheat, your jumbled thoughts kept piling on top of one another. The fog was too loud for you, having to rush to your living room to grab one of your many notebooks and pens. Sat at the island and just journaled.

It was hard enough knowing that Eddie had written all of that for you. About you. The disappointment, the self-loathing. The guilt of not feeling good enough. Searching through the past mistakes of his parents to make sense of the way you fell apart. As if that was the inevitable ending to any story he was destined to begin.

You felt sick.

And even though you ate every single crescent roll, your words just sunk into the page. You could’ve sworn a third of the notebook itself was smeared in grease and flakes and the intense shame rising in your chest. It was everything you’d hated about the last six months and more, all the goddamn childish emotions and wails of what was fair and what wasn’t. As if this hadn’t been your decision in the first place.

Enough was enough when you finished your plate.

“Okay,” you mumbled to yourself before letting out a sound of frustration. “Distraction. Now.”

Grabbing your laptop, you threw yourself on your couch and logged onto YouTube. Maybe you’d watch a deep dive on an amusement park. Catch up on some commentary. Look up that one video of baby sloths talking that usually had you crying from affection.

But there on the front page was an interview with Corroded Coffin on the new album. There’d already been over a million views despite being posted that morning. Something pooled in your abdomen as you saw the thumbnail, all the members posing together.

And you knew you shouldn’t.

But fuck it, what’s a little more salt to your never-ending wounds?

As you clicked on the video, some interviewer you hadn’t heard of popped up smiling before he spoke.

“Hi, my name is Marcus Sanderson and today I’m interviewing one of the most successful metal bands in recent history, Corroded Coffin. They have been hitting commercial success lately, after their incredible album, Fire Shroud, held electronic influences which have begun to redefine and evolve the genre for the modern age.

"Their most recent album, Elizabeth & Al, has only propelled them forward. I was given the rare opportunity to talk to Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie about not only their writing and producing process, but their personal lives. 

“First, we’ll open up with a cover of one of the band’s favorite songs of all time, ‘Solitude’ by Black Sabbath.”

It cut to the band and you couldn’t help a frustrated whine leaving your mouth at seeing him again. And, Jesus Christ, Eddie was fit like a daydream, donning a black Guns N’ Roses t-shirt with dark jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt tied at the waist. A shiny leather jacket, some custom-made Converse with Corroded Coffin across the bottom. Rings and bracelets galore, an obsidian choker hanging low on his neck. Black eyeliner that had wings along his lower lash line. 

You didn’t think you’d ever felt so fucking weak for him.

He stood without his guitar for once, his full attention on his singing. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie were all decked out too, makeup mirroring Eddie’s. All looking refreshed and well-rested. You noticed there was someone else there in the background playing the flute and as they started the song with a gentle solo, it sounded ethereal.

         “My name, it means nothing. My fortune is less

         My future is shrouded in dark wilderness.”

Eddie avoided the camera, eyes darting around the room. You could see his fingers shaking, white-knuckled around the microphone despite the stability of the stand. 

         “Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on

         Everything I possessed, now they are gone

         They are gone.”

Absentmindedly chewing on your lip, you couldn't help but let it sink in. This wasn't just the band's favorite Black Sabbath song—this was Eddie's. He'd told you how the song ripped him apart. How he'd rather die than to ever relate to it personally.

         “Oh, where can I go to and what can I do?

         Nothing can please me, only thoughts are of you

         You just left when I begged you to stay.”

He leaned back as he began to change the notes of the lyrics, his voice building into a belt. Like it was a wail, like he was the most furious man alive.

         “I’ve not stopped crying since you went away

         You went away…” 

The instrumental sounded, the flute having its own solo. Extending the moment, extending the devastation that was demolishing your soul.

Eddie was crying now, wiping the corners of his eyes in the background. Smearing his eyeliner like he didn't care, nose tinged pink through the makeup. And when he came back to the mic, you could see the pain sitting in his eyes. All glassy, all excruciatingly fragile.

         “The world is a lonely place, you’re on your own

         Guess I will go home, sit down and mourn

         Crying and thinking is all that I do

         Memories I have remind me of you

         Of you.”

The footage blurred, fading before cutting to Eddie sitting alone in a chair with the interviewer opposite him. Like they were in a house, all casual and at ease.

“We’re starting off by talking to the front man, Eddie Munson,” Marcus said to the camera, smiling before turning his attention back to Eddie. “It’s nice to see you, man. You look great.”

Eddie chuckled. “Great to be back.”

Marcus nodded. “That cover of ‘Solitude’ was incredible, by the way.”

You could see some color flood into Eddie’s cheeks. “Ah, thanks. Thank you.”

“Do you feel like you’ve been in a period of solitude?”

“Uh, to be honest, kinda. I know people are, like, freaking out just ‘cause I haven’t been in public.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Just making sure I’m focused on the work,” He gestured to himself before mimicking a pushing motion “and not on the external stuff, you know?”

“As we all should. Would you tell me a bit about your new album? Personally, I’m curious as to why you specifically named it Elizabeth & Al.”

“Yeah, uh, those are my parents’ names. My mom passed away when I was a kid and my dad…well, he wasn’t the best. But I just couldn’t stop thinking about what happens when two people who love each other just end up falling apart. Like, you just feel like you’re as good as dead, you know? And I wondered if my parents had that sort of crash and burn before she died.

“I don’t talk about it much, but my dad had a lot of issues with addiction and gambling and crime after my mom died. I didn’t grow up with the generic parent bleep. It was more like I was his friend than a son and sometimes I was a business partner. And, I don’t know, I grew up thinking that love could’ve been so simple if he gave just a little bit of effort. But I still thought he and my mom had a simple love.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, no. My dad was never really good at maintaining, like, any kind of control. And it’s so weird ‘cause all he ever did was try to have control over things. But it was self-sabotage, I think. He was never in control over his life. It felt so predestined.”

“What about your mom?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I think she just wanted love. Like, grasping for that shred of love that he provided every once in a while. ‘Cause it’s not like my dad was incapable of love. Just incapable of giving her everything. Maybe I’m projecting now, but you know what I mean.”

“So, is this album from the perspective of your parents?”

“Not exactly,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “They’re kinda just the reflection, you know? Like what I say on ‘A Mirage of Lovers’. Our parents end up being a kind of mirror we hold up to ourselves. And I think it’s up to us to decide if we’ll continue that cycle or not—especially in the face of heartbreak and loss. ‘Cause you can easily sit there and accuse yourself of being like your father or your mother. But ultimately, you’re just you. You’re not your parents.”

“And you wrote all of this within the last six months, correct?”

“Yeah, it was weird. Like, I just couldn’t stop writing. I was in such a dark place and the only thing I did was sit and write. And the band is so bleeping incredible. I showed them what I was thinking, and they were super, super receptive to it. And we got to work and got it done faster than anything else we’ve made.”

Marcus smiled, something genuine and real, shaking his head in disbelief. “That timeline really does shock me, just because it’s so seamless. There’s all these tiny details and every song just flows into one another.”

“Thanks, man. That means a lot. We kinda thought that having all the songs connect was sorta like, um, a stream of consciousness, essentially.” He started gesturing with his hands and you knew he was getting more comfortable. It almost made you smile. “Like, these thoughts all run together in a big loop. Like having one of those corkboards with all the evidence and red strings, you know? All of it just ends up running together and there’s no concrete answer. It just is.

“And, man. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie are just the best. They know me better than almost anyone and they seemed to automatically get what they needed to do. Just, like, boom, boom, boom. One after the other, we just got everything right. No one else helped produce this album and I think it shows just how much we’ve learned and evolved over our careers.” 

You felt something freeze inside you when the interviewer mentioned your name.

Eddie tried his best to seem unaffected, but you knew he was starting to squirm. You could see the top of his knee as it bounced.

“Are you two still together?” Marcus asked. “What’s the story there?”

Eddie’s eyes wandered the room, probably trying to calculate the best way to go. You selfishly wanted him to say nothing about the breakup, to refuse to confirm that it was truly over. 

He cleared his throat before scratching his temple. 

“My relationship with her is private and just between us. It always has. But I guess since I finally have a chance to say whatever I want to say, I want to make it very clear that the way the media has treated her has been just disgusting and unwarranted. She is not some plastic, shiny doll for everyone to point and laugh at."

Eddie then straightened his posture as he looked straight into the camera. "Oh, and let me be clear. If you’re sitting there talking about her bleeping body, then you are a piece of bleeping bleep and I hope you burn in hell.”  

Just like that, Marcus Sanderson moved on, the shot cutting away to a shot of the rest of the band sitting on a couch. But you weren’t listening anymore. Your head was swirling with a concoction of disbelief and epiphanies. Something…clicked.

Because you’d never had a partner mention you on a public scale. Never had a partner willing to scream your love from the top of the world and still retain privacy. Never had someone so willing to defend you despite your faults. Despite your arguments and downfalls.

And you were realizing that you…had done none of that for Eddie.

You’d sat there, in a dreamy haze because Eddie gave you everything he had. But had you really done any of those things back? Had you given him an ounce of what he gave you? 

You thought back to the AMAs, when you walked around your answers. Nearly yelled at him for standing up for you. Dropped his hand when he wanted to tell you how proud he was. Hell, you even broke up with him because of what other people said. He thought you wanted nothing from him, that you weren’t interested anymore. 

You never even said you loved him to his face.

You treated him exactly the way all your past partners treated you.

Eddie Munson had given you his world and you’d given him a fraction.

“I fucked up,” you whispered before you really processed what was happening. “I FUCKED UP!” you screeched, scrambling to stand up and check your phone. 

1:13am.

Immediately dropped it, watching it slide under the couch.

“FUCK!” you screamed again.

Dropping to your knees and enduring the carpet burn, you reached down and felt around for your phone. But you froze as you felt something else, something smaller in size. Pulled it out, recognizing Eddie’s lighter immediately. 

You flicked the lighter on, only encountering sparks the first two times. But when you watched it transform into a flame, something in your chest began to ache. It was the kindling of a once-wet fireplace, the first stroke of fire you’d felt in months. Teardrops fell freely down your chest as you found the will to fight.

Fight for what you knew you could never live without.

Fight for Eddie.

Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

Come running back, consider your exile foregone

Without any thought, you stuffed it into your top, found your phone, and popped up to search for some socks. Barely registered the color before yanking them on. You didn’t care how dressed up you were or how oily your face felt. How exhausted your body was or the residue of a crescent roll sticking to the side of your mouth.

You had to get to wherever Eddie was, and you had to get there now. If you didn’t talk to him tonight, you didn’t know if you’d make it to daylight.

But where was he?

The thought made you pause, hands shaking as you thought.

And before the panic could completely consume you, you called the one person who seemed to know everything.

“Woah, hello there.”

“Jeff.” 

“Hey, long time no see. Where you been?”

“Jeff, I’m sorry, but I really need you to tell me if Eddie is in California right now.”

“Uh, yeah, he is.” You tugged your white Keds on, breathing a sigh of relief. “He’s been holed up in his place for the last few days. Why?”

“I just need to talk to him,” you said, nearly out of breath as you started sprinting to the garage. “I need to talk to him.”

“Ever thought about calling?”

“Nope.”

Jeff’s laughter rang through the receiver. “You’re crazy, girl. I’ll give you that one.” A huff left your nose as you climbed into your car. “You gonna tell him you’re in love with him?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Finally.”

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, dreading any answer he’d give.

“Not at all. Just don’t leave him hanging this time, okay? He hasn’t been okay in a really long time.”

“Neither have I. I’m hoping to fix this and let it stay fixed.”

“Go get your man.”

As the garage door lifted, you noticed the pouring rain.

Of course it started fucking storming within the last hour and a half you’d been home. Of fucking course.

“Bye, Jeff,” you said quickly.

“Bye, girl!”

As you filed out of your driveway, a black SUV was already pulling out behind you. The protection was part of the job. You knew this. But sometimes, you just wanted to tell Scott that you had shit to do on your own.

But there was no time for this.

You just continued to drive, letting the soft hum of “The Long And Winding Road” by The Beatles lead you right back to the very place you knew you belonged.

“Scott,” James acknowledged.

“James.”

It felt like a showdown, Scott stepping in front of you at the gates. As soon as you’d arrived, you’d been prevented from pulling into the driveway. And it was James who’d crossed his arms over his dauntingly ripped chest, staring you down like you’d committed a crime.

You couldn’t blame him.

“What’s the situation?”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I need to talk to Eddie.”

“It’s two in the morning. Kid finally fell asleep for once.”

“Let her in, James,” Scott said. “They’re people. Just let them figure it out on their own without us.”

“I really want to fix this,” you explained, earning a lifted eyebrow from James. “He’s everything to me and I know I screwed up. I know that. But I want to at least try to mend this. I’m a fucking idiot. Just…please.” Your eyes began to water. “Please let me try.”

James gave you a hard stare for what felt like ten minutes. Like he was assessing the risk. 

But then he opened the gate, stepping to the side. 

“Thank you,” you breathed, rushing past him to the door.

You knocked quite rapidly, your heartbeat matching the pace. Heard it pulse in your ears. Teetered on each foot as the adrenaline continued to catapult you further into madness. Waiting and waiting and waiting until— 

There he was, barely visible in the glow of the front porch light, eyes squinting. Messy curls frizzing, wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. No accessories, no socks on his feet.

It seemed like he finally registered it was you when he straightened his posture. Eddie gazed down at your body and back up again, eyes widening with every passing second. 

“Hey,” you finally whispered.

“Hey.”

bless @strangergraphics for always having the sickest dividers.

[thatsdemko]

famous - w.nylander

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: William Nylander x famous!reader

warnings: none?? soft willy

a/n: requests are still open! to find who I write for click here

the cameras followed you everywhere. from downtown Toronto to your small little hometown, they couldn’t seem to get enough of you. so it was no surprise when the flashes of cameras began to appear outside of scotiabank arena attempting to follow you inside to watch your boyfriends hockey game.

“y/n, are you here for Auston Matthews?” “who are you here to see?” “is it true one of the leafs players is your secret husband?” and many other questions were being screamed at you as you tried to get into the arena safely. security was attempting to block the mob off of cameras when you successfully made it inside letting out a sigh of relief. so much for just trying to be a normal fan and enter like everyone else.

the questions were only partially true. you weren’t there for Auston Matthews, but you were there to see your secret boyfriend of four years, William. it was the only thing you were able to keep private about your life. you loved sharing your life with your fans and friends, but you couldn’t bare to let the world know this secret. not when things were just starting to get good.

“you attract one hell of a crowd, don’t you?” a security guard asked watching you remove the sunglasses from your face. you should’ve known better that sunglasses on a grey day were going to give you away.

“I try not too.” you smiled grabbing your things from the security bins posing for a quick picture with one of the guards that had his phone out. one thing about being famous was you could never turn down a photo. even if it exposes where you were this Saturday evening.

“should we have security escort you out after the game?”

you smiled shaking your head putting your sunglasses back on, “no that won’t be necessary, I’ll be leaving with my boyfriend.” you pressed a soft smile to your lips heading inside to the concourse being surrounded by people just like you. happy and excited leaf’s fans. being famous was always fun; seeing people recognize you and cheer for you to win an award, but nothing made you more excited and happy to see a ‘Nylander’ jersey on a leafs fan.

you moved at a fast pace to avoid being stopped to get to your seat. you noticed the stares, whispers, and jaws dropping as you moved by. you wish you could ignore them, but you knew what they were saying. just like every other page 5 tabloid was saying, “who is the lucky guy that got y/n to move from the sunny Los Angeles to Toronto?”

will always laughed at those articles because he never has to convince you once to move to Canada. you made yourself right at home in his apartment without any say from him.

when you finally found your spot you removed your sunglasses to get a better look at things, and there he was. tossing pucks to kids during warmups and skating with glee. he always called you his good luck charm, and he was right. every game you ever attended of his he played spectacular. that even went for tonight too.

you couldn’t wait to read the headlines of the morning newspaper tomorrow. you knew they were going to be about just how well he was playing. you knew you’d hang it on the fridge for him to read when he woke up first thing. you could just see the smile on his face.

once the game had ended and William was announced the first star of the night you, and security, made your way down to the locker rooms. you couldn’t wait to engulf him in the biggest hug and tell him how much you loved him.

when you got down there you spotted the mop of blonde hair in a blue uniform and you pushed your way through trainers, security, and other players to get to him, “there he is! my first star!” you practically jumped into his arms. you didn’t care for the hockey equipment smell and the scent of body odor. you were just too proud.

he didn’t want to let go, he loved how affectionate you were to him in private. even he never got to show you off publicly, things like this always made him realize how worth it was to be with you.

he pulled away from the hug, his hands moved from your back to your waist not wanting to let you go just yet. he knew reporters were coming soon and he’d have to pretend he didn’t know you were even here for the team.

“I heard you caused quite the stir outside of the arena? how are we going to sneak out of here?” he chuckled, he could only imagine if he ever went out with you after the game to his car. it would be a war zone, he’s seen you be mobbed before and he only wished he was there to punch the cameras out of your face.

you shrugged with a sheepish smile, “maybe we just don’t? maybe I get to show the world I’m dating the hottest hockey player.” your cheeks flushed with color, embarrassed, hoping he will say yes to your proposal. you knew he couldn’t resist, he finally would be proving to his teammates he had the hottest significant other.

“if it’s what you want,” he paused looking at the reporters starting to line up outside of the locker room. he saw the gaping mouths and the whispers at the two of you together, “then we can.” he nudged his head in the direction of cameras beginning to be pulled out to snap pictures of you both. turning around just in time, camera flashes began to fill your eyes and there was only thing you could think of doing before sending him off to answer questions about the game.

you turned back around deciding to press your lips onto his. you could feel him almost pull back, before finally giving in. he kissed you back. you could hear the shuttering of the cameras and the movement of the reporters. they were trying hard to ignore you both going into the locker room for questions, but it was impossible to not be drawn to you and him. he knew every question about the game was out the window, but he couldn’t wait to tell everyone about you. it was all he ever wanted.

he pulled away once the final reporter went inside, “time to go answer how I scored the y/n.”

you chuckled at his words, “you didn’t score me, I scored you.”

[doberbutts]

Looking for your opinion on raising a dobe as a PTSD service dog (trained to do things like deep pressure and body blocking/alerting to people behind me) because I'm looking into breeds. I've raised an Aussie Shepard and Border Collie before, as well as smaller dogs my whole life but you seem to really know what you're doing

I'll be honest- I think it is a bad idea. I do not recommend dobermans (or any guardian breed with limited exceptions) as service dogs for those with panic, anxiety, or stress-related disorders at all. For every one that you find will work well for such a job, you will find ten more that could not do it.

Please understand, the breed's temperament is designed to work against you here. These are dogs who are meant to guard their owners from assaults. If you are broadcasting down the leash that you are nervous about that guy who just came up behind you, even if he's minding his own business, what do you think you are telling your dog to do? What do you think will happen if you have a meltdown in public and Freak The Fuck Out and start seeing everyone as a potential threat? These are dogs intended to intercept threats before they reach their owners- so if an innocent person walking down the street towards you triggers you, that is now a threat in your dog's mind. This is a potentially very dangerous situation you've just put yourself, your dog, and other people in.

Can you find a dog to do it? Sure. That dog would be worth more than gold. We call this unicorn hunting in the service dog world. You are looking for a relatively uncommon dog to find, and if you have never done the service dog thing or the guardian breed thing before, you are going against pretty strong odds.

Whenever this sort of thing comes up, I always think of @millenniallust4death's post on one of her past blogs, about how her late husband's dog went for her in defense of her husband as he was ailing from cancer and she had moved towards him to help him. He was able to call the dog off, so she was unharmed, but still. This was a German Shepherd from lines intended for intense protection work. He saw his owner in distress and acted without thinking when someone- someone he knew and loved and trusted- made too swift of a movement towards his vulnerable owner.

I am not saying every doberman will do this. But I do think you would be playing with fire.

I had a doberman service dog. We actually just passed the anniversary of him winning an award from the national doberman club for his service work. We did a lot of work to try to prevent this from happening. He was neither the first service dog I trained nor was he the first guardian breed I trained. Prior to my current vet job, I was a dog trainer that specialized in aggression. I loved him very much and he was well suited to the work. But, also, there is a reason I deliberately did not get another doberman as a service dog when I needed to retire him due to his failing health.

[pokemoncenter]

On Badge awarding

Every Pokemon League has eight full-fledged Gyms in its circuit at any given time. Sometimes, which cities those Gyms belong to, and who leads the Gyms, will change. It is common, but not required, for Gyms to specialize in a single type, as well. Trainers who become strong enough to become Gym Leaders are usually those who seek the pinnacle of their chosen favorite type, after all.

To challenge a Pokemon League's Elite Four, generally, the region's eight badges are required. And generally, the badges are acquired by defeating a Gym Leader in a battle. This has caused a great many misconceptions, especially in those who do not battle.

A Gym Leader's purpose is not to win. It is to acknowledge a Trainer is worthy of recognition. To facilitate this, Gym Leaders will rarely, if ever, use their personal team against challengers, instead using ones raised for the purpose of the Gym Challenge. They match their ability to the challenger. They test if a Trainer is capable of overcoming someone their equal, by strategy, or by training. Furthermore, these battles will often give insight into what kind of a Trainer, and what kind of person, the challenger is.

As a result, Gym Leaders are often seen as 'jobbers', whose purpose is to lose, and often believed to be much weaker than they really are.

However, the truth is that Gym Leaders using their personal teams are often able to give Elite Four members a run for their money.

It is also important to note that a Gym Leader is not obligated to award a badge just because the challenger won, nor are they obligated to not give a badge if the challenger loses. What matters is if they feel the challenger deserves acknowledgment. If a Trainer pioneers a new, creative battle strategy but still loses the battle, a Gym Leader may award the badge regardless in recognition of their skill and potential. And if a Trainer wins their battle, but does so through abusing or risking their Pokemon, the Leader will usually refuse to award the badge.

A Gym's purpose is to encourage the growth of a Trainer, and encourage the bond between them and their Pokemon.

That is all there is to it.

[mickimagnum]

Devin's Dude Ranch A Bachelorette Challenge

Meet Devin Delaney | She/her | 25 years old | Straight | Chestnut Ridge | Horse Trainer & Nectarmaker

Horse Lover | Loves Outdoors | Rancher

Devin Delaney is a successful entrepreneur who made her wealth crafting award-winning nectar that sells up to $40k a bottle. However, she says her real passion is training horses, and she only started the nectar business as a way to fund it. Running a thriving business and training horses doesn't leave much time for looking for love. Devin has agreed to let 5 potential matches move into her home at Echo Valley Ranch for the duration of the challenge with the hopes of finding her soulmate. When asked what she's looking for she said, "Well, he's got to like horses first of all, and I want someone who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Someone who is also gentle, and smart. And kind. Someone who wants to share all the adventures this life has to offer...and share this ranch life with me. I guess, really, I want it all."

Likes: Anything Horse Related | Teal | Camping | Fishing | Gardening | Country Music | Spicy Food | Rain | Cowboy Boots & Hats | Rustic Style | Animal Lovers Dislikes: Video Games | Mischief | Egotistical People | Pink | Classical & Pop Music | Early Mornings | Cold Coffee | The Phrase "It is what it is"

Some Fun Facts About Devin:

Has a Quarter Horse named Gale

Teaches horseback riding lessons

Frank and beans is her favorite meal

Wants to learn how to play guitar

Barely uses her computer

Thinks of herself as a tomboy

Wants 1 child, but not for a while

Has never been in a long-term relationship

Contestant Entry Guidelines:

Young adults or adults only

Because Devin is straight, please submit male Sims only.

No occults; humans only.

Give them any 3 traits you want.

They should be a well-rounded person, so please provide them with likes/dislikes.

You have 25 skill points to distribute however you would like. Again, I'm looking for some developed, believable dudes.

Please include as much information as you want in your entry! The more you can tell me about them (within reason of course) the better.

CC okay for genetics & first everyday outfit; the rest should be EA based.

Must be comfortable with me changing skin overlays, eyes, outfits, etc., to what fits my gameplay. (If I have to change anything I will stay as true to your vision as possible, fyi)

I will be choosing only 5 contestants and I plan to start posting the challenge gameplay Dec 4th.

Please be sure to tag me (@mickimagnum) and/or use #devinsduderanch to ensure I see your entry. Please send me an ask if you have any questions!

Be sure to post those lone cowboys by 11/20!

Contestants 🖤

Handra Diaz - @bloomingkyras

Houston Bloom - @invisiblequeen

James Stanford - @natolesims

Albert Robins - @bakersimmer

Milo Penn - @belsasim

Will your cowboy be the one to win Devin's heart?

[pokemon-card-of-the-day]

Pokemon Card of the Day #3091: Dark Gengar (Neo Destiny)

Dark Gengar hit far less hard than you'd normally want out of a Stage 2. Despite that, it was one of the scariest Pokemon to face as it could just pick what it wanted to hit and even had a stronger version of Sleep to work with. While the low damage output did cause problems, it was just enough to make using Cleffa or any other Baby Pokemon a giant risk, which changed the way people had to play against it. That alone was enough to make something a dangerous threat.

70 HP was very low for a Stage 2. Rocket's Hideout could help with that, notably getting the number out of Magcargo range as long as the Stadium was in play, but the bulk still wasn't winning any awards. At least Dark Gengar didn't have a Weakness to worry about. The Fighting Resistance could be nice when something like Giovanni's Machamp or Donphan showed up. It also blocked damage from Tyrogue, but you probably wouldn't want to use Tyrogue in a match-up against this for other reasons anyway. The Retreat Cost was 2, which was doable sometimes but having Warp Point or the like was nice if you could fit it.

Deep Sleep was the one Pokemon Power that made Sleep worth it. If any Dark Gengar was in play on either side of the field, 2 coins had to be flipped for a Sleeping Pokemon between turns. It only woke up if both were heads, which was just 25%. It was also only 44% to wake up within 2 turns of flips, which meant Dark Gengar made Misdreavus somewhat usable. This was good since Dark Gengar itself struggled to damage certain Pokemon even with the free turns it got from Sleep.

Pull In was one of the wilder attacks of the era. It only did 30 damage for 3 Psychic Energy, which wouldn't have been enough without all the extra effects. The first one was that you could switch in one of the opponent's Benched Pokemon with their Active Pokemon and damage that instead if you wanted. The Baby flip only counted if the original Pokemon was up front, so if someone had a Baby Pokemon on the Bench it could just be taken down without that check. You didn't have to force the switch if there wasn't a great target or wanted to fish for Sleep on whatever was up there, because either way the Pokemon you hit was now Asleep. This had the potential to take Prizes off Cleffa and Pichu and the like, and the hope with other things was to wear them down and hope coin flips went well. Odds were solid due to Deep Sleep.

The issue with Pull In was that is was rather weak, giving the opponent a lot of turns to try to break through. Originally people paired this with Slowking to mess with Trainers that could help with switching out of Dark Gengar, but Slowking now gets the errata so Noctowl is the modern take on the idea. Darkness-types, as well as anything with Metal Energy attached, didn't really care much, and having just one or two of those in play with nothing else could be nearly impossible to break through without going for the lucky Misdreavus play. That meant that despite being devastating to some things, Pull In wasn't going to do a lot against others, making back-up a necessity.

Dark Gengar had its problems, but the positives were so good that it was generally viewed as one of the better cards to build around. Without something like Steelix, Mewtwo, or Umbreon you really were going to need some luck to get through all the coin flips while being worn down, and even Cleffa became a liability. There was always some hope when facing Dark Gengar with a strong attacker, however, as the bulk wasn't great and one free turn could wipe a Stage 2 out. These things simply kept Dark Gengar in check, and this was something you probably did not want to face due to all the luck needed to actually beat it.

[daisiesonafield-blog]

Louis Tomlinson is sequestered in the executive boardroom of a swanky hotel in suburban London, and is treating it the way a pupil might a classroom when the teacher’s popped out. He’s leaning back on his chair, feet up on a radiator, hands clasped behind his head and a cigarette on the go. “All right?” he says, grinning impishly.

Despite huge global success with One Direction (70 million albums sold), which prompted a fanaticism that made Beatlemania look tame, he seems remarkably unaffected and far more normal than one might expect from someone with 35.8 million Twitter followers. He’s a 31-year-old so unassumingly bloke-next-door that the bloke next door wouldn’t look twice.

“I’ve always had a problem with ‘ego’,” he says, “and I’ve always been worried about being one of those people in the public eye who just loses all sense of reality, and becomes an arsehole.” As if by way of explanation, he adds: “I’m from Doncaster.”

And so while his former 1D bandmate Harry Styles, a superstar, floats through life like the fashion world’s favourite clothes horse, Tomlinson kits himself out in JD Sports: Kappa T-shirt, black sweatpants, Adidas socks, scuffed trainers. When he tells you he often frequents his local pub unmolested, you believe him.

“If someone does come up after an hour to ask for a selfie, I won’t say no and I won’t run away,” he says, “’specially if I’m three pints deep!”

Of the five members of 1D, Tomlinson has had the slowest start to a solo career. There are compelling reasons for this — family tragedy for one — but he’s also had to figure out who he is without the band around him. “With this job,” he says, “there’s so much room for overthinking, you know? Someone from the record label will tell you they like your stuff, but you find yourself thinking: yeah, but do they? It’s the fans that help you really believe in yourself.”

In the band, Zayn Malik had the best voice and Styles had the best everything else. While the other three — Tomlinson, Liam Payne and Niall Horan — were hardly driftwood, each has nevertheless had to dig deep to carve out a solo persona that would compel beyond the bubble.

“I do miss the boys,” he says, “and I do definitely miss being one of the five, but I like doing my own thing too. It was time.”

It’s a bright winter’s day, and the man in sports casual is enjoying special dispensation here in the hotel: permission to light up. Had this been denied, there might well have been a problem, for Tomlinson chain-smokes with the wild abandon of Mad Men’s Don Draper.

After the release of his second solo album, Faith in the Future, in November, he adds another necessary notch in the belt of any self-respecting pop star next month: the documentary. All of Those Voices is a routine behind-the-scenes look at 21st-century celebrity but stands out for the multiple crises of confidence Tomlinson feels any time he’s not on stage.

“This is a confidence game for anyone,” he says earnestly, “and there’s been plenty of moments of vulnerability throughout the entire process.” An overriding concern of the documentary is not just whether people would be interested in him, but whether they’d take him, someone discovered on a TV talent show, seriously.

When Styles won his Grammy awards this month — he collected two and won four Brits — he used his acceptance speech to say that “this doesn’t happen to people like me very often”. This was swiftly ridiculed across social media because of course white men tend to win quite a lot. But what he likely meant was that it doesn’t happen to the product of manufactured boy bands, many of whom have the use-by date of a pint of milk.

“Only Harry knows what he means there, it’s hard to speculate,” Tomlinson says, “but we all came from relatively humble beginnings, and now we are where we are.”

But while Styles is a once-in-a-generation talent and knows it, his erstwhile bandmates — and this one in particular — need convincing.

Louis Tomlinson comes from a big family — his mother, Johannah Deakin, married twice and had seven children — and was a hopeful child actor before in 2010 auditioning for The X Factor. This is where 1D were created, “masterminded” by Louis Walsh. Deakin, who had Tomlinson when she was 19, was his biggest fan and they’d always been close. When, for example, Tomlinson lost his virginity, it was she he told first, not his friends.

In 2016, a year after One Direction split, she died from leukaemia, aged 42. Two years later, his 18-year-old sister, Félicité, who’d been struggling to get over her mother’s death, accidentally overdosed on cocaine, painkillers and an anxiety drug. The combined loss hit him hard. Aside from the single he wrote about his mother’s passing, 2020’s Two of Us, his mourning has been largely private.

He squints through a veil of cigarette smoke. “Some of the things that have happened recently have been quite drastic, yeah, but then so much in my life seems to have been pretty extreme, one way or the other.” In 2016, at the age of 25, a brief relationship with a Californian stylist, Briana Jungwirth, resulted in a son. “There’ve been challenging times, definitely. It’s funny, but I couldn’t even tell you how many years ago my mum passed, I just blank it out. But for the first 18 months, I’d take any form of bad luck personally. I’d feel every tiny thing. But now I genuinely feel I’ve come out the other side. I feel more empathy for everything and everyone these days.”

After his 2020 debut album, Walls, failed to set the world alight, Tomlinson called time on his relationship with Simon Cowell. “It was mostly amicable,” he says, nodding. “Simon always had my best interests at heart, and I liked him. He had his faults of course, like all of us, but it was always inevitable I’d have to go off and do my own thing.”

His new record, then, was a leap into the unknown and he elected to write not with professional songwriters but rather fellow creative artists: Theo Hutchcraft from the band Hurts, Joe Cross from the Courteeners and the singer-songwriter James Vincent McMorrow. “And that was a big difference, huge. These are people who live and breathe music. It’s the first time I felt really comfortable doing my own stuff, you know?”

Previously he’d been encouraged to sing like a nice young pop star should, without regional inflection. “When I was in the band,” he says, “working with professional songwriters whose entire aim was to write the hit single, they’d tell me that singing in my natural accent wasn’t commercial. Sorry, but what a shit idea! Who wants to sound like everybody else? I dumbed down a little bit in the band, because you do, but I’ve learnt who I am now.”

The album, which has its inspiration firmly in early Noughties indie, sounds more Kaiser Chiefs than One Direction. A risk, then. But when it came out, it debuted at No 1. While this did wonders for his confidence, it’s clear from the documentary that he still needs people — a support group — around him. He actively courts the friendship of his touring band, not necessarily a given among solo pop stars, and he seems almost always sociable. It’s when he’s not up for group activity that people worry. There’s a revealing moment in the documentary of him having just appeared on James Corden’s US talk show. Backstage Corden, an old friend, pleads with him not to go quiet on him afterwards. “You vanish, you change your number, no one knows [where you are],” he says.

Until recently Tomlinson lived in London with his long-term girlfriend, the model Eleanor Calder, but recent reports suggest they’ve split up and he’s dating another model, Sofie Nyvang. Life, clearly, is complicated. Perhaps that’s why he smokes so much. He says, though, that he feels finally relieved of the myriad pressures that once clung to being a pop star whose fanbase was predominantly teenage. Such as?

“Well, being a role model for one. I never wanted that. I always had to worry whether it was OK if, say, I was seen here or if I could get away with smoking a joint there, before concluding: hmm, probably not. But I never wanted to be the perfect pop star, especially in the climate of Instagram. I don’t want to put an artificial world out there. I think it’s important that people see your scars, your flaws.”

It’s never easy growing up in public and Tomlinson had no choice. “When One Direction split up,” he says, “I was mortified, I was absolutely gutted. I was a bit bitter, I suppose because it just felt like another loss to me. But I’ve a better understanding of things now, and there’s not as much anger. It is what it is.

“Getting back together at some point is hard to imagine right now,” he continues, “but I’d be surprised if we lived out our lives and didn’t have a moment where we had a reunion, or whatever you want to call it. I’d be up for that.”

When I ask what it’s like watching Styles’s ascendance into the biggest star of his generation — something that might delay such a reunion — he blows out a long plume of smoke.

“Well, it’s not a surprise is it? We were always aware that Harry fit that mould, and it’s been an amazing thing to watch. Envy? At the start maybe, when I was trying to find my feet, but it’s never healthy to cross-reference your own success with others is it? These days I’m learning to elevate myself in those moments when I have to. I didn’t know how to do that before, but now? Now I know I f***ing can.” All of Those Voices is in cinemas from March 22,  allofthosevoices.com

-Full article. Feb 23 2023. Link here. Free link here.