#I have never found american football to be in any way interesting

[lil-shiro]

He's thriving ☀️🏈 (via F1 IG stories)

[so-so-woso]

i wanna be the one | part 1

Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.

Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol

Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.

Word Count: 3,284

London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.

Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.

You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.

It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.

You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.

You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.

“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.

“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.

“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”

“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”

You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.

Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.

The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.

By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“

“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”

A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three?”

“Two, McCabe.”

“Two and shots?”

“…”

“Two…and shots?”

“…one shot.”

“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”

A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.

“You always this quiet?”

You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.

“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”

You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.

“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”

That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.

“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.

The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.

“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”

You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.

“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.

“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”

“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”

Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.

You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.

Yep. You fucked up.

[lazycats-stuff]

can i request a scenario where the reader, who has been trained as a weapon for most of their life, struggles with expressing their emotions. The reader has been adopted by the Batfamily and is injured during a mission. They try to hide their injuries, but Dick or Jason (or both) find out and scold the reader for keeping it a secret. The reader responds by saying that they didn't think it was a big deal. it was a big deal. So it’s fluff and angst. The scenario can end with the Batfamily having a movie night after patching the reader up to help them feel better. If the scenario crosses any boundaries, please feel free to change anything necessary.

Don't worry, everything is well within my boundaries. And also, thank you for 500 followers! I still don't know how I managed that with what I call writing.

Summary: (Y/N) hides his emotions. After an injury, Jason and Dick can't stand it.

Warnings: medical inaccuracies, mentions of training before the batfam, Dick and Jason being good brothers, (Y/N) being emotionally constipated, Bruce trying to get closer to (Y/N), angst, fluff

Also, this is such a cool gif, (V/N)= Vigilante name

A weapon. That's all that he was taught. That's all he could remember. A weapon has no emotions, he remembers them saying. A weapon needs to fit in wherever they are. He was always told that his emotions don't matter, that the missions matter more. The goal was more important.

For a long time that's what he was told. His chances of fighting against his handlers are non existent. His chances at normal life were non existent.

That was until a mission in Gotham.

Batman and his birds somehow managed to capture him. (Y/N) still doesn't know how they managed to find him in Gotham. He blended with the shadows, just like he was taught. (Y/N) then realized why Batman was called the detective and why he was so respected and feared in their world.

(Y/N) also didn't expect to be adopted by Bruce Wayne, a man who turned out to be Batman. And more so, (Y/N) didn't expect to have choices. What to wear, what to eat, even when to wake up.

(Y/N) was never given a choice.

It felt nice knowing that he had some sort of control over his life. For the first time ever. And everyone introduced him to a lot of his firsts. Disney movies and cartoons, different kinds of candy since he wasn't allow sugar, books that are not literature classics and playing sports like basketball, football, but not American.

And it was great, but one thing that his new found family couldn't do was make him show emotions. (Y/N) still struggled with that. No matter how much he was told that it was fine and that it wasn't a sign of weakness, he couldn't do it.

One more thing they noticed how he was dismissive of certain things. They couldn't get him to rest, not even when he was sick. Not even the flu could keep him resting. Bruce had to put his foot down when (Y/N) said he wanted to go on patrol while he had a flu.

Bruce was going to maim the people who raised him in that way. Jason and Dick are going to help him too.

(Y/N) emotional unavailability hit a breaking point when he was injured. They were out on patrol and all of a sudden, they were ambushed by Deathstroke and some of Ra's assassins. (Y/N) see a fight from a mile away.

He still didn't know how Deathstroke managed to freelance for Ra's al Ghoul. Deathstroke watched him with his good eye, clearly interested in him for being a new member of the Batfamily. But there was also some sort of familiarity.

"Good job detective. You managed to adopt (V/N), a living weapon. " Deathstroke said, parading up on the railing. (Y/N) didn't say anything to that, but he could sense Bruce's anger rolling off him in waves.

Dick gripped his batons tighter and Jason gripped his gun tighter. (Y/N)'s eye were back on Deathstroke's and the two locked eyes once more.

" (V/N) is not a weapon Slade. " Jason jumped to (Y/N)'s defense.

" Well, the rest of the criminal world doesn't think so. (V/N) was known as the boogeyman, the one thing you don't want to find in the dark. " Deathstroke said, taking his blade out of his holster.

" I, up until now, never had a chance to fight against (V/N). But I will have a chance to kill him. " He finished, jumping over it. The other assassins followed his lead and jumped right after him.

(Y/N) had some experience with Ra's al Ghoul's assassins. Thankfully, Ra's had enough respect for (Y/N) and decided to leave him alone and not kill him. But it seems that the tables have turned on that matter.

The family tensed up and Jason pushed (Y/N) behind him a little bit.

" What does Ra's have with (V/N)? Why do you need his help to kill him? " Batman questioned, also moving to the front to cover (Y/N).

" It doesn't matter detective. What matters is that he is dead tonight."

Batman went after Deathstroke, not going to allow him to go after (Y/N). The young vigilante wanted to go after Deathstroke, but the two assassins jumped in front of him and (Y/N) was forced to deal with them. What a nuisance.

He fought alongside Jason, before moving to fight alongside Damian. Bruce and Slade still fought with all of their might. (Y/N) said screw it and jumped into the fight with Deathstroke and Batman.

He wasn't going to allow Deathstroke to win. And if he wants to kill him, why not give him a fair shot. Deathstroke's good eye locked with (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) went at it.

Batman wanted to stop (Y/N), but once (Y/N) got into a fighting mode, it was impossible to stop him. Bruce and (Y/N) worked together, but Deathstroke was just as equally good.

(Y/N) was thrown back with a nasty kick to the stomach, making him cough and spit out blood. He grunted, ready to strike back regardless. He was always taught to suppress the pain and just keep on going.

He dodged a punch before landing a punch on Deathstroke's mask, knocking off of his head. Batman swopped in and finished him off. (Y/N) got back into a fight Ra's assassins, dodging through their blades, helping others finished them off.

After it was all said and done, they called the GCPD to pick them up.

" Good job everyone, lets get home. " Batman said, gathering them all up.

" Thank God. We spent way too much time here anyway. " Jason said, already going out. (Y/N) couldn't agree anymore. He feels like something is off with himself. He could always tell, even before it hit him out of nowhere.

" Come on, (V/N). " Dick said, passing by (Y/N).

(Y/N) managed to sneak up out of the cave. He hoped that he was unnoticed. He knew that something was off. He knew that his ribs were fractured, but not broken.

He didn't want to do this in front of anyone and besides, he knows how to treat them. He has done it time and time again. He went to his bathroom and squatted down to get the tapes. Thankfully, it didn't hurt this really bad.

Then he opened the mirror and took a pill for the pain. He put a shirt on and was ready to go out for ice, but a knock on his door made him freeze.

" (Y/N)? We know you are here, you didn't get checked out by Alfred and you suffered a nasty kick to the stomach. " Jason said, voice muffled by the door.

" I'm fine, suit absorbed the kick. " (Y/N) lied, putting the tape away.

" (Y/N), I have a great bullshit detector and you just activated it. " Jason said, opening the door of his room, Dick following him. Jason and Dick looked at him before Jason pointed at the shirt.

" Come on. Off. "

" Nope. "

" (Y/N). Please don't tell me you are hiding an injury. "Dick said, hoping that it wasn't true.

" It's not a big deal. " (Y/N) mumbled.

" It is! I mean, we can patch you up! Is it a question of vulnerability? " Dick said, moving closer to (Y/N).

" Also, if it's the stomach or the ribs, you need to check it out. " Jason added, trying to deescalate the situation.

" Guys, I'm fi- "

" (Y/N), I swear to God, say that you are fine and I will manhandle you and patch you up roughly. " Jason said, rubbing his forehead.

" (Y/N), injuries here are a big deal. We patch each other up and that way we help each other out. I know it's not easy to forget the habits that were installed in you, Damian is a living proof of that. But you have to let others in. You are our brother and we love you. Some might not show it, but they do. " Dick said, putting his hand on (Y/N) shoulder.

" And when we patch each other up, we strengthen that love and trust. We protect each other and trust each other. And again, I know it's hard to go against everything that was installed in you, but this is a safe place. " Jason added, helping Dick with his point.

" Come on, lets get you checked out. " Jason said, opening the bedroom door.

Dick told everyone about (Y/N) hiding his injuries and suggested a movie night to make (Y/N) feel better. The others didn't like that fact. How come they didn't notice it before? How many times was (Y/N) in pain and they didn't notice?

" How about a movie night? Maybe a Harry Potter marathon? " Jason suggested, already taking the blankets and extending the couch that will make sure to fit them all.

" Okay, bring more pillows Tim. " Jason said to Tim.

" Somebody can bring some snacks. Some chocolate for (Y/N). " Jason said, arranging the blankets. Tim got up and started walking to the kitchen.

" Damian, you are going to give him talk later about hiding injuries. " Jason said, making Damian huff.

" Don't huff at me. " Jason warned. Tim came back with the pillows and put them all around.

Dick, (Y/N) and Alfred came back a few moments later. Dick was all smiles as he led (Y/N) to the couch. " Now (Y/N), lay down. "

" They know, don't they? " (Y/N) said, looking at the all smiling Dick.

" We told them, but they are not judging you. " Dick answered.

(Y/N) didn't say anything, instead he laid down on the couch, taking a blanket, covering himself. Bruce laid down next to him and the other followed quickly. Even Alfred joined.

Bruce laid down next to (Y/N), moving his arm to put it behind (Y/N). Then he put his arm around (Y/N)'s shoulder, bringing him closer to him. (Y/N) was a but startled, but relaxed into the touch. Even more, he leaned his head down on Bruce's shoulder.

Everyone noticed it and everyone was happy. Maybe he will be finally be happy and less emotionally unavailable. Maybe (Y/N) will be able to let go of the demons hunting him.

[fbfh]

I don't know if your requests are open but if they are could you like write something with Leo Valdez and a child of Aphrodite who's like really athletic and badass like into martial arts, plays american football and everything like what would that be like?

YES. It's giving the end of mean girls where regina joins the lacrosse team. you're drop dead gorgeous and can judo flip better than Annabeth. Leo will be foaming at themouth from the minute he sees you, but when he watches you body slam someone and sprint across the field to score a touchdown in the game of pickup football you joined with some of the other campers????? he's dead. he's actually losing his mind. bc he's never seen someone as gorgeous as you AND simultaneously fearless????? it's hard to describe but I've noticed a lot of times you can tell when an actor is trying to be pretty to a point where it's sacrificing the integrity of their performance. and granted a lot of that boils down to toxic patriarchal standards so it's not their fault, but it's so rare to find someone so intrinsically connected to their inner beauty, their divine energy that shines through from the inside out. and you have not only mastered holding your divine energy and confidence in a death grip, but you've found a way to blend it in tandem with your ambition, your ability commit to anything you set your mind to and give it your all. Leo has truly never seen anyone like you, and in that moment of tackling Travis Stoll to the ground and covering yourself in grass stains before jumping up and cheering with your teammates, you've singlehandedly ruined any other love interests for Leo. No one can hold a candle to you. Just by existing, you set the standard too high.

[church-of-lilith]

Whatever you do don't think about young mid 20s Trent Crimm having been bullied so badly for being different and gay that he can't stand it anymore, shoves it all inside and marries a woman, tries to leave the gay life behind. And she loves him, but she doesn't know him at all, not the real him, and how can he risk losing her by telling her?

He grows more bitter and unsatisfied every day, and his articles show this. Soon, he becomes cruel- these athletes are strong and manly, it all comes so easy to them, people adore them, shower them with love, and then he goes home to an unhappy wife, and she's unhappy because of him, because he just can't make himself right, can't fit into this life, can't be who the world wants him to be.

So he tells her, and regrets the words as soon as they come out. But she chuckles, "Come on, Trent, you're not serious. I know we've been having some problems lately, but I love you, okay? We can work on it. We can be happy again." It's an out, an option to take the words back, and so he does. And they decide to work on their marriage. They decide to have a child.

And for the first few months, his daughter is all that matters, and he's happy. This precious human being, she deserves a good father, and he wants to be that for her, to give her a happy, united family. A mom and dad.

But the high highs are followed by lows lower than he's experienced in a long time. His wife's kisses leave him feeling hollow. His heart is weak and empty, and he yearns for something to make it beat again.

One day, when his wife is at the park with their daughter and he's reorganizing his closet, he stumbles upon the purple American shirt, the one he got from his summer boyfriend in university. His hands tremble as he picks it up, presses it against his nose. He hasn't washed it since. It still smells like him.

He sits at the edge of his bed and cries. He remembers his kisses, the days they'd spent together at camp; the nights, too. He longs to have them back, just for a moment. But then he remembers his father's face when he found out. He remembers what followed.

He has a family now, a responsibility. He's made his choices, and they're wise. His father invites him over for Christmas, congratulates him on his promotions, plays with his granddaughter. Respects him, despite his failures, his many mistakes.

He shoves the shirt back in the closet. He will keep thinking about it for a few days, but then he'll forget about it again.

He's had his job at the Independent for a few years, and he's grown a bit bored of it. But news come of a managerial change at AFC Richmond, and he knows it's about to get interesting. The new owner must be losing it after her very public divorce; why else would she hire a dumb hick from God-knows-where USA, who's never touched a real football in his life, to coach her Premier League team? This guy is uneducated, dumb, undeserving of this privilege. This guy is going down.

An interview is arranged, and he's the man for the job. He'll give the fans what they want. He'll eviscerate this clown in the papers. His boss will give him a pat on the back. His colleagues in the press room will look up at him with respect. His father will call him and they'll have a laugh about this clown together. Who does he think he is, to come all the way to England and take this job from someone who knows a damn thing about the sport?

But Coach Lasso is, to Trent's surprise, competent. He knows how to work with people. He wants Roy Kent to be a leader, and he knows what to do to get that result.

He's also kind, genuine, warm. He spends hours at the school, kicking a ball around with some kids. He stays there longer than any other coach would have. It's not just a tactic to come across as sympathetic in the article, to soften Trent's perception of him. He actually cares.

And then he invites him to dinner.

Trent is starving, of course. Hasn't eaten anything since his plain breakfast that morning. They walk to an upscale Indian restaurant. Interesting choice. He wonders why he picked this place, in particular. It all becomes clear when he introduces his friend Olly.

The food is too hot. He can't eat it. Curse his middle-aged stomach and his eating habits over the years. Now he can't even handle a bit of spice. And by the looks of it, neither can Ted, and yet, sweating profusely and gasping for air, he still eats both their meals. He can't embarrass Olly in front of his family, he says. He has to show his respect.

"To me, success is not about the wins and losses."

What a stupid thing to say, and twice in a day, no less. They were in his office hours ago when this dumb phrase last came out of his mouth, and Coach Lasso was getting changed, his shirt unbuttoned- but Trent can't think about that right now. The American just gave him exactly what he needed for the article- a reason to mock him.

"It's about helping these young fellas be the best versions of themselves on and off the field."

Oh, God. That's all he wants, to help these young men, and here Trent is, attempting to take him down. But this man doesn't want to destroy this club, he just wants to help. To help them get better. Most of all, that's why he's here.

Who has he become? The man in front of him has been nothing but generous, considering, inviting all day. Strike that, actually. Since he's arrived in London. And what has Trent done, besides being cruel to him? Hurting him? Bullying him?

"I really should go. Deadlines and all."

"Yeah, gotta do the work. I'll say this, though. I really enjoyed getting to spend this time with you, Trent".

And he actually means that.

He writes the article as soon as he gets home. He admits to himself how much he wants Ted to win. He probably won't, but he desperately hopes he will. Why shouldn't he? Why shouldn't a kind, good man like him prevail? Why was this world built for the Rupert Mannions and the George Cartricks of the world, and not for Ted Lasso? Why is Ted the one being called a wanker on national TV, in stadiums, on the street ?

Prove them wrong, Ted, please.

His wife and his daughter have already gone to sleep when he sends in the article. The apartment is dark, quiet, and a chilly breeze is coming in through the window that's been cracked open in the bedroom. He climbs into bed, careful not to disturb his wife. The rush of the interview has worn off, and he feels strangely at peace. He closes his eyes, allows himself to think about Ted in the office, getting changed. About his warm voice, about the gleam in his eyes in that Indian restaurant. About "What do you love?" and "I'm about to hallucinate from this heat here".

He thinks about that press room, about seeing him up there, in the light. He falls asleep to one certitude.

He can't wait to see Coach Lasso again.

oh anon now you have me thinking about it!! so much!! how are you gonna casually drop this absolute masterpiece in my ask box?? I don’t feel that I’m even deserving of this, it should be on ao3 or something??

The way you put all the little bits and pieces of backstory James Lance has given us together to paint this perfect image of season 1 Trent is so incredibly impressive to me. Like this is exactly how I picture his journey and you put it together perfectly.

The little bit about him finding the Ashland University shirt in his closet and yearning to have that young love back again, despite repressing himself so deeply all these years… so incredibly heartbreaking and beautiful.

And then Ted comes in and suddenly Trent remembers what it’s like to find real, true joy in what he does. For once he’s not garnering his satisfaction from putting other people down, and writing scathing pieces about them. Instead he finds himself smiling down at his screen as he sends that first article in, Ted’s kindness and compassion for others lingering in the back of his mind. Ted’s undying enthusiasm leaves him genuinely excited to see what comes next, makes him go against everything he’s ever conditioned himself towards. And he can’t let anyone else know, not yet, maybe not ever. But he holds the beginnings of this change close to his chest, while he decides what to do about it. While he waits to see if Ted Lasso really can succeed with kindness alone. Maybe if he can, it’s possible for Trent, too.

thank you for sending this piece of writing in anon! honored that you chose to share it with me. if you don’t write fic on ao3 already you should!! I’d love to read more of your thoughts/ideas.

[squiddosss]

salutations fellow human being! if you are taking requests, may i suggest the aouv crew (there needs to be a better nickname for them) as children? idk just an idea

p.s. this is also a reminder that al had a bowl cut when he was 6-7 years old :) do what you will with that info :)))

I AM ALIVE! [insert 20 exclamation points here] ok but seriously sorry for dipping off the face of the planet :(

here’s the line up! i kinda forgot everyone’s exact ages. i’m going to go ahead and say the characters are in 3rd-5th grade right now. also isn’t elionor one of the oldest champions?? uhhh idk

additional headcanons:

we all know Reid is a huge nerd. he probably leaned into the nerdy-ness a lot as a kid. this kid wore starwars shirts every day. also glasses, (i believe this is canon)

Isobel was actually rather quiet as a kid. she preferred books over people, and liked talking to adults more than kids her age. she was still exceptionally clever and motivated, but she didn’t really learn how to be sharp-tongued and ambitious until she befriended Briony. she owes her people skills that got her through the months before the tournament and all the reporters to her best friend. 

Briony basically coerced Isobel into joining a thing called spell scouts. think like boy scouts or girl scouts or any other youth program but for a magickal world. things like nature and survival skills were taught, but also the basics of spellcrafting and ethics of spell using. (just imagine them in their little uniforms)

Finley was pretty athletic and played a few sports, but didn’t fancy working with a whole team. he attempted junior league soccer (wait… football??? i am american help) but found that he preferred scoring points for his team rather than with his team. he did summer swim at first and running, but wouldn’t discover fencing until he was older (i believe he is the team captain in high school) oh, he also totally did summer theater camps. 

Alistair TOTALLY had a bowl cut. unfortunately, he has curly hair. Marianne Lowe thought his curly hair (which he inherited from his father, whoever that could be) was unbecoming for an eventual Lowe champion, so Alistair’s mother would have to magickally get it to stay straight every day. this is part of why Al lacks freckles— whenever Al went outside, humidity would turn it back into a curly mess. so, under Marianne’s instructions, he just never went outside. he later stopped straightening his hair (and outgrew the bowl cut thank god) but the habit of staying indoors stayed with him. 

Elionor experimented with dying the ends of her hair when she was younger. the blues and pinks never really showed through because her hair was brown, but she liked it, so that’s all that really mattered. she also wrote fanfiction and posted it to online forums despite technically not being old enough to use them.

after losing their father and having their mother leave them, it was hard for Briony and Innes to feel noticed within the large Thorburn family. they went about trying to feel accepted in different ways. Briony, obviously, was loud and learned to announce her presence to feel heard. Innes preferred a more subtle approach, learning a particular relative’s interests and schedules to find a way to slowly do little things to win them over. stuff like doing their chores or completing their hair. 

Carby was like… basically a baby at this point. so… [insert toddler personality trait here]

Diya definitely did extracurriculars at school. she won the spell fair (like the science fair but… y’know… spells) three years in a row and was a member of the book club that included a tournament with other schools at the end of the school year (which she won, duh) she was pretty competitive with it, too. 

Gavin… thinking about his childhood makes me so not ok. he realized pretty early on he was basically a sacrifice to a tournament his family would never win. Gavin knew about the tournament, and realized he would be the champion, and had always seen how distant his parents were, but didn’t realize what that really meant until a bit later. 

OK BUT SERIOUSLY THANK U FOR REQUESTING THIS!

[thislovintime]

Peter’s application picture to Carleton College, 1959 (courtesy of Carleton College Archives).

“When I was in junior high school, I was a punk. I wanted people to love and admire me for my gentle wit, my talented music-making and my beauty of personality. Instead I was loathsome and irritating and quarrelsome and I didn’t know why people didn’t like me. But I began to think and meditate on it. Meditation is the only way the personality can be improved, and gradually I began to work things out and better myself. I like to give someone as many ‘different sheets of music paper’ as I can — behave differently toward him each time I see him. That is the only way someone can know what the real me is like. You can’t know the real me by only talking to me. I believe that you can tell more about people by the way they looking walking away from you than you can by what they say.” - Peter Tork, Seventeen, August 1967 (x)

“‘All of my early life was spent feeling out of whack. Physically I matured late and never was very athletic and always found myself on the short end of the stick. I was raised in a liberal family in the middle of the McCarthy era.’ Against those odds, Tork inevitably developed an inferiority complex that he carried into adulthood and his musical career. When he became one of four young men chosen out of 437 applicants to become what were supposed to be the ‘American Beatles,’ his self-doubt grew to mammoth proportions. ‘Half of the time I would think I didn’t deserve it and the other half I would think I was God’s gift to the children. I got my head turned around. It was the “arrogant doormat” syndrome low self-esteem combined with arrogance.’” - The Daily Oklahoman, November 7, 1983 (x)

“‘My life between then [moving from Wisconsin to Connecticut] and my senior year of high school was a total disaster,’ says Peter. ‘In fifth grade I started going downhill because I was unhappy. I was constantly trying to make friends and trying to be funny but never succeeding because I was so much younger. I did have a small circle of friends but that was at home, it didn’t have much to do with school.’ […] ‘When I was little I wanted to be an orchestra conductor. I remember a time when I was in Germany, I was about four years old, we went to a restaurant where they had an orchestra and the leader let me get up and conduct it. As I got older I began to love folk music, particularly the Weavers stuff.’ Around 1956, as rock ‘n’ roll was beginning to make its impact, Peter was pursuing rather different musical interests. Folksinger Tom Glazer […] became a friend of the family and presented fourteen-year-old Peter with a ukulele, which he mastered with disarming ease. ‘Then I took up the guitar and later I learned to play the five string banjo. Learning to play musical instruments always came easy to me. Other things I couldn’t learn no matter how hard I studied.’ Peter’s adolescence took a turn for the better around the time of high school senior year, when he was moved to the newly-opened University of Connecticut High School. ‘It was much more comfortable. The age difference ceased to matter and I finally got a chance to make some real friends. This is when I guess you could say I blossomed out. There were all kinds of amateur societies I could join, like drama and rifle shooting. I even started going to football and baseball games. […] I was very interested in drama but I was a late grower and because I was so short I never got any big romantic leads. My acting debut, at age sixteen and a half, was as a thirteen-year-old paper boy in Our Town. This was a bit degrading; it reminded me of the age problem, that had dogged me all through school.’ Peter also contributed to the school newspaper, submitting bizarre humor pieces illustrated by his younger brother Nick. Buoyed up by new confidence and security, Peter took a crash course in the French horn and was invited to join the University (not high school) of Connecticut Orchestra, as fourth chair French horn. ‘I really began to love music, just about every kind except opera. Sometimes I liked listening to classical music better than anything. My favorites were Prokofiev, Bach, Rachmaninov and Stravinsky. Pop music seemed kinda drab around that time. The hard core rock ’n’ roll era had ended and most of the excitement had gone. I was hung up on the orchestral music we played at school. About the only popular stuff I used to really listen to was Ray Charles.’” - Monkeemania (1986)

“A friend of the family, Tom Glazer, a folk singer, is the one who started it all for me. He gave me my ukulele. I had been taking piano lessons but when I got the uke, I found I could go plunk, plunk, and it was a sound I really dug. My mother wanted me to keep studying the piano, but I couldn’t make that plunk-plunk sound on it even after practicing. Knowing the piano helped a lot, though. I played other instruments too, like the French horn. I played that as a senior in high school in Connecticut and in a university band.” - Peter Tork, Seventeen, August 1967 (x)

[captainrayzizuniverse]

Yes! Thank youuuu @goldcrumble for this I truly need it now. I’m sitting in Kelowna waiting for the worst year of my life to be over in the most unremarkable way (binging on paw patrol with my nephew) and what better way to do it than this? Beware, long ass essay incoming. 

When did you become a Louie? (This is about to get loooong)

I love talking about this because it’s such an interesting journey for me compared to other artists I love. I used to watch British reality tv with my grandma every year and that of course includes x-factor and strictly come dancing (and the GBBO, sewing bee, BGT etc..it was unhealthy) which usually start around the same time. We started with x-factor when leona lewis won until the last season with Louis as judge. So yes of course I watched the one with 1D and I was rooting for them during the show (and Louis was my LEAST fav only because I’d watch the xtra factor and the video diaries and he was SO loud and obnoxious and basiclly everything I find annoying in a person. Sorry it was what it was. Anyway after that season I never paid them any attention but we continued watching x-factor year after year. I've mentioned this before but when Louis was announced as the judge in 2018 I remember telling my grandma that it’s probably to draw in the 1D fans because the show was so bad at that point. Obviously I said it with eyes rolled and thinking ‘they really think they’re gonna save this shit with a kid from a boyband?’. Little did I know this guy will ruin me. Anyway as a non fan and someone who really didn’t know anything about the guy I absolutely loved him as a judge..so like a couple of weeks in I read his entire wikipedia and was 100% drinking the ‘reconnected and in love with his long term gf and has a kid with a one night stand from LA’ koolaid. And I listened to his singles at the time, loved them, added them to one of my Anghami playlist and it was chill for a while.

I have never been in a music fandom before..I’ve been in the football fandom (esp livejournal) for ages and also several movies/tv shows and books. I think most of the music I listen to are either from bands who are dead or there just isn’t a fandom big enough to exist…or I haven’t found it. Dunno..just never got into one. SO on a flight from oslo in 2019 I was reading a fic from another fandom and in the author’s note there was something about being inspired by a Larry fic and I vaguely remembered who the Larry ship is about. So when I clicked it and saw that it was THE Louis T, I went into my second rabbit hole and saw all these news singles he has out and an album that was about to come out and a show in Toronto and wow so much excitement all at once. Booked the tickets for the show which were later cancelled due to covid and then never got to see the ltwt live (rip hearing defenceless live). After that I didn’t follow up with him, I didn’t even know lthq was a thing ffs. When people say that they need to promote things on his personal IG, it’s for people like ME! Anyhoo! I still never searched him up on Tumblr until one day by chance I saw a clip from a livestream on instagram of one of his earlier shows in Texas. I didn’t even know concert livestreams were a thing tbh. So I kept on monitoring to find the source until I got to finally watch an entire show (I think it was the 4th American one, a few before the chicken nugget incident) and then somehow that led me to Tumblr and slowly I started following very very few blogs. So when did I become a Louie really? Was it 2018 when I was like ok the dude is cool I like the couple of songs he has out? Or 2019 when I booked my first concert ticket? Or in 2022 when I found the fandom on Tumblr? Also I got into 1D when I read that wiki page and it said something about him having the most writing credits. It intrigued me and was like ‘fine! I’ll give them a go I guess!’

your favourite song? (one off walls and one off fitf)

We Made It. All this time (if you ask tomorrow it might jump between Saturdays or holding onto heartache or she is beauty)

your favourite music video?

Miss you! The hair, the song.

your favourite gig?

Toronto one because I was anticipating it for sooooo long and it fully lived up to it. Esp after spending the entire 2022 watching livestreams and being jealous af. The new york one was good too but my home show will always be my fav

your favourite louis hair?

X-factor hair. 

your favourite louis interview?

Oof man this is hard! They all kinda get mixed together so either a Zach lang one (probably the first one because it sticks in my memory more since I saw it right when it came out) or one of the buzzfeed ones like the snack wars or the one he did with the yellow background (man I’m lazy as shit, I can literally YouTube this).

suit louis or tanktop louis?

Suit Louis. Literally anything but tank top louis. I know I’m the only one in this boat but I just don’t dig tank tops. I think it’s also the fact that he almost always wears hideous shoes with them that kinda kill the look. If I had to be specific, I’d say tracksuit Louis. 

favourite louis tattoo?

I’d also go with the x&o’s 

favourite louis bodypart? (c'mon we all have one!)

I immediately thought his eye crinkles but realized that’s not a body part. Maybe hands or the veiny neck??I love a neck with passionate veins (what even am I saying??)

—-

I think my small Louis loving mutuals have either already done this or have been tagged, so it ends with ME!

And with that I shall wish everyone a genocide free 2024! A free Palestine! And an end to this fucking massacre!

Back to watching Marshall and Skye on PP. 

[victoriabyrnearth101]

My favorite animal when I was a child was a duck. My dad and I used to go for early morning runs on the Erie Canal and pass by ducks in the morning sleeping or just waking up. I love them because they are cute and just mind their own business unlike geese which will chase you if you come anywhere near them. Something I found out about ducks is that they cannot feel cold in their feet because they have no nerves or blood vessels in their feet.

During the fall for some reason I am always in the mood to listen to American Authors. When I played travel softball in middle school and high school, my mom and I would listen to their album “Oh, What a Life” on our way to my tournaments. For some reason, that album always reminds me of fall. My favorite fall movie is the Thanksgiving Charlie Brown movie. I am a big fan of horror movies, but overall that is my favorite fall themed movie. I love Linus dispensing his wisdom on everybody, Peppermint Patty making Charlie play football, and Snoopy and Woodstock trying to cook the meal. It just puts me in the fall mood!

The Sarbanes-Oxley Act was established in 2002, the year I was born. This is a very important act for businesses as it aimed to make financial statements more accurate and reduce fraud. It increased the standards for companies as the company leaders now are required to sign off on their financial statements, making them personally responsible if there is any material misstatement. This came about because of mostly the Enron scandal where the company was knee deep in fraudulent activities, as well as some other large companies that were doing similar activities. I found this interesting because this comes up a lot as an accounting Major, and these big accounting standards came into place the year I was born.

The song “You are my Sunshine” (the Norman Blake version) was my favorite song as a child. I absolutely loved this song and still do. I made my parents play it on repeat during car rides until they became sick of it. It really is a sad song, but I have always loved it. The lyrics “you make me happy when skies are grey, you’ll never know dear how much I love you” always made me feel comforted, even though it is a song about a man’s wife leaving him for another man. It is a song about unconditional love as the man is pleading to his wife to come home and he will spend the rest of his life trying to make her happy and love him. As a child I saw it as a happy and sweet song, and even though I now know it’s meaning, it still resonated with me in the same way when I hear it. To me it means unconditional love and not giving up on someone.

Attendance Prompt:

“Gold has always been the color of reverence and revered itself. Part of its allure lies in the mineral’s scarcity and uneven distribution. Although mines have been discovered all over the world, gold rushes mean that they are quickly exhausted and abandoned in favor of those that have been newly uncovered.” (Page 85, The Secret Lives of Color)

I chose this quote because it reminded me of the Taylor Swift song “Gold Rush”. It is one of my favorites of her songs because it relates to this concept of people flocking madly to something desired. The song is about a guy that all the girls are in love with, which is like how people treat gold. They see or hear that there is gold and they rush to make it theirs. The scarcity factor of gold also reminds me of the economic idea of scarcity. In economics we face scarcity of resources, money and time, so gold reminded me of that and how the limited supply of it makes it a good form of money.

[slothsaresleepy]

It's incredibly difficult to find meaningful friendships - especially with other men. When you grow older, I think you also know exactly what you like or dislike. You know what you're looking for in others. What's the problem? You have no time anymore. You need to work, you need to raise a family, you need to (oftentimes) handle bills, healthcare, etc.

There's a real cost/benefit analysis later in life. Do I want to potentially WASTE my time searching for connection with other guys to make meaningful friendships when, 1) we might not even like each other that much, or 2) all the work that goes into meeting people now (online?)

This is something that caused me to take a glimpse internally. Why have so many of my most meaningful friendships been with women? Why do I seek out the attention and friendship of women instead of other men? Am I THAT emotionally needy? Hah!

Well, thinking about earlier - there's a niche of what I'm interested in and it's pretty much any article that's about "top ten ways to make new friends as a guy" doesn't include what I want to be doing. I spent a lot of time chasing women and dating, though - I'm good at talking to women (or so I think!) Going back to the cost/benefit - I know how to talk to women, I know where to find them, and I am more comfortable talking about the things I'm interested in with them. I don't give a duck about a football lol

I love the work I do, for the most part. I do have some connections with guys from work. The problem, though? There's that extra layer of WORK! It's my livelihood and I'm the sole provider for my family. What I can't do anymore is shit where I eat - or risk souring my professional opportunities because of bad friendships or experiences at work.

This is a cautionary tale. I know I'm in the risk category despite never thinking about it. There are highs and lows we all go through - I think back at the peak when I was the most social. It was exhausting - it took up pretty much all of my time to grow and maintain a broad network of friends (both male and female). What man in their 30s/40s between work and family has the kind of time to build new relationships let alone maintain existing? I get it!

There's this saying with old military buddies that they can go for years without speaking to one another and then pick-up right where they left off as if nothing changed years later. Is that a good thing? I feel like part of it speaks to guys knowing everything sucks and just be happy someone remembers your name, but what scares me is ... how have you not changed!? I feel like I'm almost a completely different person every 3-5 years. Do people stay the same? I don't want to stay the same - I want to always find ways to grow and change.

My big fear. Your partner should want to be your best friend, lover, caretaker - but what if that want becomes a need? Is there a corresponding increase in codependency, BPD, and NPD that follows the decrease in male friendships? We really set ourselves up for disaster in this society!

The difference between "want" and "need" to me is like the difference when someone asks you to do something versus telling you to do something. I tie this in with the patriotic American exceptionalism propaganda non-sense we're all filled with as kids. "Freedom! Independence! You don't need anyone's help. Live free or die. Lead, follow, or get out of the way. Pick yourself up by your bootstraps." aka don't do anything anyone tells you!

I've absolutely found myself in a situation where I've been told to do something, I know it's the right thing to do, I know I need to do it, I was even PLANNING on doing it, but the simple act of being told makes me hate doing it. Why are we like that? I hope I'm never a burden!

I guess I have to put in the work to make everyone happy - even me!

Well, that's it.

https://www.latimes.com/lifestyle/newsletter/2023-10-10/more-than-1-in-7-men-have-no-close-friends-the-way-we-socialize-boys-is-to-blame-group-therapy

[spreadyourwingsc]

Sy and  Soirse. Prologue.

Disclaimer, this is the first story i’ve ever written and published., its not proof written, its not checked, nor researched, this was literally just words that came flying out of my mind. Captain Syverson’s character is not my own, he just lives 24/7 on my mind, Soirse, just came to me watching an Soirse Ronan’s interview, and again, I dont know her, I dont own her, this characters just shares her names, and maybe the hair, but she’s not the person i intend to portray here, i am also, not irish, nor know a lot about of irish culture, all this just came to me while watching these irish actors in a movie that have nothing to do with this, nor Sand Castle. 

Please do not copy it also, if you do youd be stealing, and what does that say about you if youre stealing fan fiction. 

If any of my content is similar to another person, it is not my intention, i havent read every fanfiction that there is in the world but i have read my share, and while ive had some influence on them, its not my intention to copy anybodys work, i admire y’all way too much for that, but the moment somebody points out that this is a copy of somebody elses work or that its similar, i will delete, because that is the last thing that I want. 

with that said please enjoy this little experiment, im going through some hard feelings right now, and i will probably delete it after i overthink a little too much. but i hope this bring a little joy to your day, also if somebody wants to help me better this or help me finish it, it would be greatly appreciate it. 

Prologue

Logan Syverson is from Alpine texas, born and raised to Betty and Joseph Syverson, only boy, had a fairly normal childhood, father was military man, honorary discharge when Sy was a teenager. Sy was star of football team at Smalltown Alpine High, was an all around boy, polite, strong, educated, his mom doted on him and made sure he was a true gentleman, he’d spend his summer working with his dad at his workshop, Sy wanted to follow his dad footsteps in the military once he graduated against his mothers wish. But she was not going to stop him and was proud of him nonetheless., 

His dad was his typical Texan rancher, doted on Sy’s mother, they were high school sweethearts, and like being in the military and missed Sy’s birth and was not home he decided one son would be enough and once he was discharged he was glad he could be there to help Sys mother, even though sometimes she felt he missed his war filled days. 

While Sy was growing up he had his fair share of ladies, and how could he not. He was a sight to look at, when preadolescent hormones started to kick in, and the models on the magazines were more interesting than the toy cars, there was no going back for him. Sy loved his ladies like the next man, of course, with the respect they all deserved, for that reason he never found himself in a steady relationship.

That is until Saoirse (Sorche) came in. 

With very strong Irish background both her grandparents on her father side, had migrated to the states while not even being married, and started a new life, that’s how then Saoirse's dad  Conner Walsh was brought to this world, grew up in another small town in the US , adopting the American life and ways, and eventually meeting Saorise’s mother in New York, a city girl by all means, who got swept away by this irish-american redneck.

When they were about to have their 5th baby, Conner, decided he’s had enough of the busy city life and decided moving his big family of 7 to country side, considering a small town upbringings, not wanting his kids to get lost in the hustle of the city, at least until they would be old enough to decide if they rather it, or not.

Soirse Walsh was born on a hot summer day at Marfa, texas local hospital, a screaming scrappy baby with blonde reddish hair and the brown eyes, she was soon to be a storm to be reckoned with. Being the youngest of 5 children, and the only girl of a boys clan. While she was growing up, her mother was happy to finally have a female company around the house, her dad was ecstatic to have a little princess to spoil and dote alongside his wife. But the brothers were having none of that, while they loved and swore to protect her dearly, the teasing and bullying was always present, not to create trauma, but to create character. 

So when she’s stepped on Smalltown Alpine smalltown high, the school of the town over since her town was small it didn’t even have a highschool, her brothers long gone graduated all gone too soon to face their own choices in lives, one became a parent too early, but honored his father roots and became a family man, the other preferred to move to the hustle city , and other straight up joined military forces, while all different they all had in common that they all succeeded in whatever their craft were, making their parents proud and making her lovely mother hang up pictures in her wall of every accomplishment, everyone in Marfa, knew about the Walsh’s boys and how great they were at life. Which left out little Saoirse with a bar really high to climb. 

At 13 started in the new school, Saoirse still didn’t know what she wanted out of life,  she knew she liked swimming, and even considered the Olympics from time to time, doing well in her competitions, but she also was on the rougher side, she loved to hang around in the fields, and had a big interesting In bugs, and all the things not considered “girly”. When she was the only one kid left at the house her father made sure she knew how to take care of herself and even though they were six of them, never be dependent of a man, so she learned how to change a tire, how to ride a motorbike, and how to change the oil of her car. Her biggest proud moment was how she learned how to drive shift. All thanks to her dad and the brothers.

--

Thanks for reading!

[alln64games]

Madden Football 64

NA release: 24th October 1997

PAL release: December 1997

JP release: N/A

Developer: Tiburon

Publisher: EA Sports

N64 Magazine Score: 92%

So, American Football. I know almost nothing about it and this is my first proper experience with it. While Baseball is quite easy to understand (especially based on Rounders and Cricket), American Football seems to have very specific rules and even my basic knowledge of Rugby did not help me out at all.

I can understand why sports games mainly target fans of the sport, but considering this game was released in Europe, I do find it odd that there’s no proper introduction or tutorial to entice new people into the sport. That said, I did learn some new things.

American Football is very stop-start. Every couple of seconds, with a bad pass or with a single tackle, the game stops, players regroup, discuss tactics, pick a plan and then wait for a new kick-off. You never seem to be able to play long enough to get used to the controls or actually enjoy the gameplay. I also found it interesting that wasting time by waiting as long as possible to choose tactics is a key part of the game, as the CPU player did it to me towards the end of the match.

American Football players also seem to spend most of their time just standing around, while the referee runs with the ball far more than the players. Even in this game (where you would expect that to skip these bits), I seemed to watch the referee more than the players. He’s clearly the most athletic person on the pitch.

It also seems that flopping over is a huge skill. Any slight touch will cause anyone with the ball to hit the ground instantly. Even if I barely scraped an opposing player (who does not make any kind of tackle animation), my player will pitifully fall over. I’m not sure if that’s the sport or if that aspect of Madden 64 is just broken.

N64 Magazine seemed to think it faithfully recreated American Football, though, rating it as one of the best games on the platform. I didn’t enjoy anything about this, but I found this more difficult to understand than any of the Japanese-only games.

But it’s the gameplay that counts, and Madden manages the difficult task of combining the complex strategic elements of American football that make it such a compelling sport, with the action packed athleticism and glamour.

- Tim Tucker, N64 Magazine #10

Remake or remaster?

These games evolve over time.

Official ways to get the game.

There is no official way to get Madden 64

[bisluthq]

I’m happy for Taylor and if she sees herself marrying Travis then I hope it happens. But I cannot get into Travis.

I have never found Joe attractive, at all, but I like a lot of British actors so I, at least, found him sort of interesting. I wouldn’t consider myself a fan and I never got why people liked him so much, but I didn’t have strong opinions for or against Joe.

With Travis though, everything about him gives me the ick. I know people have tried to say he’s toxic or whatever based on some stuff he’s done during games, and that’s not what I am trying to do here. But I do find him throwing his helmet (I think he did that once?) because something didn’t go his way extremely unattractive. Same with the way he treated the coach at the Super Bowl, but also the way he was screaming when they celebrated. There’s something about a manly man playing sports and getting so worked up over it that gives me the ick

So I’m happy for Taylor and I hope this works out for her but my god am I tired of seeing Travis on every social media I have.

I’m not someone who’s into sports but I don’t actively hate any sports other than actual, real, true football. So imagine how I feel about American Football…

Yeah lol look I get it. I wouldn’t date Travis either. But the good thing is no one is asking us to lmfao and I do think he’s a good guy overall (temper tantrums on the field aside but like they’re high on adrenalin when that shit’s going down so idk I’d not extrapolate what he’s like as a person from how aggressive he is on the field).

[tamerahardy]

Intro to Highschool

We ended up moving again into my grandmothers one bed room apartment, my first story I stated that all of us me, my three brothers and my mom in my grandmothers one bedroom apartment. I don’t necessarily remember why but I know my mom stayed close to grandma just in case of emergencies and we needed to return.

A long time ago my mom told me that if you return to my house you failed. So in a way each time my mom failed she returned to my grandmother and she took her in each time. Sadly I had no privacy we were beyond poor, stealing WiFi before you could even think to do it lol trying to make ends meet, I didn’t really go out too much, as you may know bad reputation at school, my mom calling a slut for how I dressed, being poor, not having much privacy at all ….

9th grade began I didn’t have all the popular clothes I looked like a bum,… by that time everyone was wearing Aeropostale, American eagle, true religion etc… I didn’t fit in at all. My clothes came from Walmart. I didn’t have air forces more like dirty chucks. I wasn’t fly at all. My first day of school I was alone and scared. Scared because I was now at the connecting school of McNair middle I was at McNair high. So everybody from middle school transferred over with me and back then things like this would’ve made me happy as I felt robbed of that experience but in this case I had been bullied from 7th- 8th and thats what I was remembered for crossing over. The girls that picked on me were even in my homeroom to make life worse, awkward stares whenever she would walk in because it was like wow there go the girl that bully you.

High school was different though because now you have older kids getting ready for college. Juniors and seniors and freshmens and sophomores, nobody outside of my class really payed attention to it but for me I did. Being bullied scared me it became another highlight of my life. Every day I went to school I was expecting the worst to happen to be embarrassed in front of everybody as it happened before.

In this case the popular girls from middle school made friends easy of course from extracurricular activities staying at school after hours or connected to the right ppl. For me my attempt to talk to one of the popular girls from my class just to get directions somewhere she walked right past me as if I didn’t exist to her at all. By this point I don’t even see value in myself I don’t even know what I’m doing…I’m just existing. I’m crying as I type this because this is root of it all. I was treated terribly in school without an accurate reason to it and it’s a deep pain I buried deep into myself because of it. Something funny about it all the girl that walked past me her name is Courtney Williams. She actually found me on social media and speaks and shares her admiration..funny how things change over the years.

Unlike middle school high school was bigger everybody migrated into different crowds. The people that hung out in middle school they were hanging with different people by then. The only time I saw the girl that bullied me was in homeroom I was beginning to meet other people who weren’t like the people in middle school.

I didn’t see Tomas anymore and that ship had sailed. Simeon would see outside of school I didn’t really see him like that but because of our history it was like a lil sexual passion whenever we saw each other, and because we never had sex that made it more interesting and intense to think about. The first football game to kick off the year was a BIG deal everybody was gonna be there I wanted to go so bad soooo bad that I even ended up telling Simeon I’ll suck his dick and his friend dick if they take me. That was the only way I could get a free ride there I was too broke and didn’t have any other friends. I didn’t necessarily plan on doing it but I just told them what they wanted to hear… so we get to the game Simeon and his friend walk off and I’m alone to go find a seat and watch the game. I don’t recall being too interested in the game but more so in the intensity of the crowd and the cheerleaders. I specifically shifted my attention the varsity cheerleaders. The popular girls from middle school that cheered JV were in the crowd right in front of them analyzing the girls they would be replacing and I was in the far back of them watching as well.

The game ended and I went out to find Simeon and his friend so I could go home. His friend found me and we waited in the car, Simeon not knowing I was in the car got in talking shit saying “we about to get our dick suck by this hoe” I say who are you talking about and it startled him so bad because he didn’t know I was in the back seat already. It was a very silent ride back from panthersfield stadium and I didn’t say anything to them. I told one of friends in the complex what he said and he initially felt bad and apologized. I would only see Simeon at the apartments I don’t know what happened to him but after we hardly spoke or saw each other.

There was this guy his name is Preston Smith I was standing in the lunch line one day and he just made a random joke that the girl that walked passed me Courtney and I looked alike. That became a thing that we looked alike and of course she shot that down out of embarrassment because of who I was. He made a joke tho and I liked his energy.I had a new crush Preston, now as you see my pattern with crushes hasn’t gone in my favor.

Preston was a senior at the time and I was Freshmen. Now you see why it was so easy for him to be comfy with making jokes in lunch lines? I became really obsessed with him. We use to talk on the phone sometimes. He was on the football team as well. I think I was of a toy (hmmm) to him, but I don’t care he would publicly show some type of affection to me because he didn’t care..I liked boys like that that just didn’t give a fuck RAW energy. Type of guy to grab yo ass in front of everybody and it’s like wtf are you going to do about it?

Yea I was very obsessed my freshmen year he’s all I thought and fantasized about. I started stalking him walking into classes he would be in. Figuring out all the girls he dated or was fucking. I wanted to see him because I know passing through the hallway he was going to openly express some type of energy to me and I liked it. His energy and the attention.

Again me with these love notes I wrote a love note for Preston that somehow everybody saw it was basically me saying I don’t care about age and I really like him …what a fucking joke lol. I became a laughing stock to his friends he didn’t really care I guess I was his lil freshmen bae lol.

Anywho I found out that Preston was getting his dick sucked by some chick that was like the water girl for the football team or whatever the fuck she did to support them her name is Minerva ppl talked shit about her but she didn’t care she still gave him head and when I found out or would see them walking downstairs together I would get so mad. He would come back upstairs like yea she sucked my dick and he would stop me from walking away from him knowing I was pissed. Talk about not giving a fuck that’s some sexy ass shit to me….

Anywho I couldn’t stay mad at him for long it was really funny and I was really fucking horny too and wanted this man real bad…he’s really all I talked about. Me being young and naive of course. I started changing the way I looked wearing skimpier clothes doing my makeup finally so I could look like something. It started to draw attention from other guys sadly. I remember this guy name Tristan very weird guy he’s follows me on Facebook. He lift my skirt up in class one time. He was very weird and wanted to hook up with me. He was like an annoying class clown alongside with his minion that just took shit too far. I kept my distance from him he was just too weird.

Me and Preston never did anything I mean he exes that were seniors and he got back with, I forget her name but she was from New York and she dressed fly. I recall walking down the hallway and they kissed in front of me. She knew I liked him too. She was older and more experienced to her I was an annoying lil bug who shitted on. The seniors were always in preparation for getting ready for college, I tried out for the JV football team and I MADE IT.. I made the team I actually recall my dad coming to one of my games… being on the cheer team in 9th grade was okay I managed to get pretty close to one of the popular girls she looked out for me fr but I wasn’t fully accepted and on top of how inched outside of the squad (my crush on Preston) it didn’t do me much good…I had so many embarrassing moments on that team. All the girls had boyfriends except for me. I remember them doing a roll call cheer where they would call each other by their boyfriends or boo name and for me they called me “nobody” when I jumped for roll call… very embarrassing. I remember for our pep rally something I don’t even recall practicing for I messed up so bad in front of everybody because I didn’t know any of the cheers. This was more of a connect with a varsity cheerleader last minute I couldn’t make some of the rehearsals because of what I was going through…in between moving from the apartment at chamblee we stayed in hotels, we moved in with my grandmother and we moved into a townhouse until my mom moved into a home she deemed “her dream home” it became really hard for her to keep up with that house we ended up using a generator my older brother got from one of his friends it kept the power on but by night to save gas in it my mom would cut it off. Some days I just couldn’t stay after school some days I could and my mom or brother would pick me up. Preston was there at the pep rally and laughed at me I was so embarrassed. He actually ended up telling me to my face he laughed lol. Towards the end of the year being on that team I got to see the popular girls a bit closely they argued with each other like dogs they had cliques within their own clique that was interesting but the one that was nice to me she was able to talk to everybody in a way. For school pictures I wasn’t even included in my cheer pics I had forgotten a part to my uniform and ended up not being able to be in the pictures…So really it was more of an experience so to speak now that I look back. Preston was the first guy I cried to my dad about. I remember when he picked me up from school one day and I just cried because I didn’t understand why me and him couldn’t be together. My dad said it broke his heart to see me cry.

[sportsandideas]

A Thinking Fan in Qatar: Notes on the Narratives of Hosting a World Cup in 2022

When hosting rights for the 2022 men’s World Cup were awarded to Qatar way back in 2010, there were two major competing narratives. FIFA, for one, claimed it was about the opportunity to host a World Cup in the Middle East - one of the last major world regions to never host a sporting mega-event. Much of the Western media and Western soccer fans, for another, claimed it was about corruption and the absurdities of global sport. I’ve always wondered whether both could be true. 

Is it possible that even amidst all the corruption and inequality that comes with contemporary global mega-events such as the World Cup and the Olympics, the 2022 World Cup really is a chance to engage with the contemporary realities of a Muslim majority country in a region that is rarely engaged by the Western media on human terms?

In part as an effort to answer that question, in mid-October I took advantage of my university’s week-long Fall break to make a trip to Qatar. With my eleven-year-old son as my trusty side-kick and with the opportunity to connect with a few other “football scholars” who are working in Qatar (one at the Georgetown-Qatar campus and one at Northwestern-Qatar), I went to Qatar hoping to use this World Cup as a chance to engage my version of “thinking fandom” - the mix of intellectual curiosity and critical consciousness that I argue can enrich the game. 

[Photo outside the Aspire Academy with the '2022' building in the background]

I’ve read and watched all the stories in the western media about why Qatar shouldn’t be hosting this World Cup. I wanted to see for myself what it means that they are. And while I didn’t get any definitive answers in my week-long visit, here are three general observations that I found myself considering amidst the more pervasive and polar narratives.

One: Qatar is a relatively young country actively trying to figure out how to navigate sudden wealth and the complexities of being an Islamic country engaging with modernity and global capitalism. 

This struck me most vividly in a visit to the National Museum of Qatar - one of many architectural marvels in Doha that tells a compelling story of Qatar’s rapid journey from a sparse population of desert nomads and pearl divers to a country that has leveraged the ability to liquify natural gas into an oasis of wealth, power, and inequality. In just a few short decades the country has gone from a reliance on camels, knives, and desert tents to sovereign wealth funds, luxury shopping malls, and global cultural events. That kind of transition takes some figuring out.

[Photo from inside the National Museum of Qatar]

This struck me most forcefully when I was giving a talk about American soccer at the Georgetown-Qatar campus - a lovely building in the Education City complex that hosts a variety of American university campuses and one of the most interesting mosques you’ve ever seen. I was trying to explain how some of the U.S. soccer system’s idiosyncrasies derive from us being a relatively young country — at least compared to much of Europe. But then I realized that Qatar was a British protectorate up until 1971 — nearly 200 years after U.S. independence. And Qatar didn’t have its first university until 1973 — the U.S. campus of Georgetown was founded in 1789. If the U.S. is a relatively young country, Qatar as an independent nation state is an absolute baby.

Recognizing the relative newness of Qatar as a nation state helped me make sense of the feeling that the place really is trying to figure out how to be in the world. Multiple people we met on our trip referred fondly to Sheikha Moza - the mother of the current Emir, the co-founder of the Qatar Foundation, and the striking women who was in many of the famous images of the Qatari royals celebrating at the FIFA ceremony when they were awarded the World Cup hosting rights. Her family is full of complicated characters, sometimes using their wealth toward obnoxious extravagance, but she herself was an early graduate of that first University in Qatar and she does clearly care about education - having been a central figure in bringing Georgetown, Northwestern, and other major universities (including also Carnegie Mellon, Texas A&M, Virginia Commonwealth, and Weill Cornell Medicine) to Qatar. 

She has also been a prominent face for women in the Middle East, with the ‘‘face’ cliche being significant - Sheikha Moza does wear head coverings, but she has led most younger Qatari women in not adopting full hijabs or face coverings as a nod to a more modern version of Islam.

[Paintings for sale in the Souq, including one of Sheikha Moza]

The overall narrative I left with was about the relative youth of Qatar as a country, along with their significant investment in education, arts, and culture, making for a society actively working out how they want to be in the modern world. There are very real issues in Qatar around human rights, economic inequality, environmental exploitation, and more - but I took away a sense of a place actively learning, navigating, and negotiating how to work it all out.

Two: Qatar is serious about trying to create a healthy sport culture, and is making some worthy investments in sports infrastructure.

Doha often felt like a World Cup theme park. Every few buildings were plastered with twenty story images of iconic players from each World Cup team. Soccer themed murals, banners, and installations occupied most prime street space. Architecturally interesting stadiums loomed behind the skyline in every direction. 

And most people didn’t even call it “the World Cup” - instead, the common short-hand was just “FIFA.” As in, “we don’t know how busy it will be for FIFA” or “it’s really hard to get tickets for FIFA.” As if the event really was only for the global soccer aristocracy.

Which made it all the more interesting to me that there really was an accessible sporting infrastructure in parks and near stadiums that conveyed some genuine thought for the local population. On our day-long tour of all eight World Cup stadiums (it took about six hours including stops for lunch — try doing that for all the stadiums in 2026!) I was perhaps most surprised by the fact that the majority of stadiums had some combination of park space, playing fields, playgrounds, running trails, bike paths, and other sport amenities immediately outside the gates. True, many were still in the final throes of construction and security preparation - so I couldn’t see if they would actually be used by the community. And also true that it was 98 degrees during the day at the start of the cool season — so I could only trust assurances from our local guides that people really did come out at night and in the winter to use the facilities. 

[Photo of a bike path to Al Thumama stadium still under construction]

But I was still impressed. It made me realize that I can think of very few U.S. sport stadiums that actually include any publicly accessible recreation facilities. There are, I suppose, a few MLS stadiums and college football stadiums that are near to other playing field complexes. But most major sporting arenas I know of in the U.S. are either surrounded by ‘entertainment districts’ full of bars and restaurants or they are surrounded by parking lots. Neither does much to inspire a sport for life ethos. Qatar at least spent the money to try.

And even away from the World Cup stadiums, I was impressed by the visible presence of park spaces, running paths, bike routes, padel ball courts, fitness centers, and other resources for engaging with sport and fitness. I particularly enjoyed visiting the “3-2-1 Qatar Olympic and Sports Museum” — which was surprisingly expansive, and included a whole floor devoted to an “Activation Zone” that included interactive opportunities to track physical literacy skills and scheme out more healthy lifestyles. It was like a free fitness consultation for the eager museum goer. I expected there to be some standard-issue FIFA / Olympic style pablum about the wonders of sport — and there was a bit. But there were also very substantive exhibits about the history and anthropology of early sport cultures around the world, and well curated information about the sports history of Qatar (including everything from modern efforts in global football to traditional desert sports such as falconry).

[Photo from inside the "3-2-1 Qatar Olympic and Sport Museum"]

I’m very conscious of the fact that much of this may have been for show — a PR effort to accompany the festival of marketing that is the men’s World Cup. But even if the biking trails and playground equipment and soccer fields were being used as props, they really were available for use and play. My son climbed to the very top of the rope tower to prove it.

[Photo from outside Al Janoub Stadium]

And in all the scholarly work I’ve done on sport and development, I still genuinely believe the best thing a government or NGO can do is give communities spaces to play. 

Three: Global capitalism weaves a tangled web.

The most common critique of the Qatar World Cup is that much of the infrastructure has been built by poorly paid and poorly treated migrant labor. The most extreme version of the critique derives from a 2021 Guardian article implying the 6500 migrant workers died building the World Cup stadiums — in fact, that is one estimate of the total number of migrant workers who died in Qatar since the World Cup was awarded. Out of a population of about 2.7 million people, about 2.4 million are guest workers of varying types from manual laborers to teachers to oil executives and over the course of ten years several thousand of those people have died - most of causes unrelated to their immediate working conditions. It is the case that the conditions for construction workers in Qatar are brutal, and it does seem true that at least 37 have died building World Cup stadiums — 37 too many. But the ease with which the western media perpetuates assumptions of base malevolence — selling stories of “corrupt Arabs” who have contempt for basic human rights — is itself a story worth unpacking.

Here’s the story I heard multiple times in Qatar: yes, working construction in Qatar is a rough job. It is brutally hot, and the companies are under intense pressure to build things quickly. The migrant labor camps often pack large numbers of men into tight quarters, and compel them to work long hours. 

And, importantly, the World Cup has actually made many of the conditions in which those men (and other guest workers) labor better.

The World Cup has brought intense global attention to work conditions in Qatar, I was told, and while there is a long way to go things have improved significantly. The rules associated with the ‘kafala’ system, for example, have been dramatically shifted to allow workers the autonomy to leave companies and leave the country if they want. There have been, I was told, crack-downs on recruiters who made false promises to poor laborers in poorer parts of the world such as south Asia and sub-Saharan Africa. It is now much more likely to be the case that guest workers in Qatar have consciously agreed to work in conditions that are objectively bad, the local story goes, and yet still better than those many of the workers would find in their home countries. There are official minimum wages for different types of labor that add up to more than could be earned by uneducated workers in places such as Bangladesh or Nepal or Sudan, there are no income taxes in Qatar, and there is decent quality health care. Is the way it was explained.

It was, unfortunately, nearly impossible to actually talk with manual laborers so my sources were mostly their compatriots from Pakistan or India or Uganda who worked in hotels, restaurants, or as drivers. They are not, I am aware, a representative sample. But they told a compelling story that is rarely given a hearing in the western media - a story that is a moderate version of the defensive and aggressive story in the local Qatari press — attributing oversimplified critiques to pure “racism” and “Islamophobia” in the European and American media. 

[Screenshot of the Doha News with headlines focused on racism, politics, and the need to keep "English fans in check"]

Who, after all, are the companies and contractors that hire all the guest workers in Qatar? Quite often, I was told, they are American companies, British companies, Korean companies, Australian companies, French companies, and other major players in the global marketplace who are happy to hire cheap labor for the simple reason that it leads to big profits. The Qatari government does not actually build stadiums, this story goes, they simply try to regulate the global capitalists who do. As is the case anywhere in the world, there is a push and pull between the companies and the regulators. The regulations have gotten better, enforcement has gotten better, but profit still makes the companies look for “efficiencies.”

The migrant worker issue is just one of many, but it illustrates the problem of simple narratives of blame. Is the problem the Qatari government? Global inequality and global capitalism (that makes human labor cheap)? Corporations and their rapacious need for profit? FIFA and its European aristocratic roots? Tourists and academics like me who equivocate on how to think it all through? All of the above?

One last example drawn from another contentious issue in Qatar, the question of free expression, may help illustrate my ultimate sense that narratives of Qatar 2022 are more complicated and multifaceted than it might seem. The Education City campus of Northwestern-Qatar had an exhibit in their ‘Media Majlis’ (with a ‘majlis’ literally being the Arabic word for a ‘sitting room’ but figuratively meaning the space where important discussions are had and decisions are made) titled by the question “Is it a beautiful game?” It was a small but nicely organized exhibit, a mix of football history, media, technology, and politics with commentary from serious people. There was a reality-show style recording of Qataris debating the good and bad of football as a general cultural form - is the game rife with discrimination, for example? It was not directly critical of FIFA or the World Cup, but it was also not uncritical of FIFA and the World Cup. 

The exhibit was interesting, thought-provoking, subtle, and seems to have actually closed in mid-November just before the World Cup starts. At least it suggested the possibility that more than one thing about Qatar, and about the World Cup, can be true.

[aplacebetweensleepandawake]

from the nsfw asks - 4,14, 62, 72, 78

Damn, you chose some "complicated" questions, because I'm not really sure what to say to some of them haha. Will try to do my best. 4 - I am not in a relationship atm, and I really don't have plans to be in one in the near future. 14 - I do not have any crush on anyone. Actually it's been a long time since I don't have a crush (Since my 15 yo approx) at least not IRL because if Chris Evans or Logan Lerman count as crush then I have a lot of them haha. 62 - The sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to me? It depends. The things I normally find most attractive are not "sexual" per se. I could find sexy of my partner to share pictures with me, not hiding me from the people they know for example. I also find so sexy when someone is unapologetic about the way they are (Not like being evil and proud haha) being like "I'm a guy, but I would love to wear make-up or go out in a skirt" or "I'm a girl, but I would love to play US football" then do it, I LOVE and I find it so, so sexy. I also find really hot for my partner to be both in a sofa (for example) talking about trivial things with friends and then feel their hand in my higher thigh. 72 - I am a really "common" person with this matter. It all depends on my partner and the moment, but I think I'm a little bit basic here... "Babe" "Honey" "Good Girl" "Bratty" pretty much the standard basic pack, but again, at the end it all depends on how I feel with my partner and how much I trust them to try new things or new words etc. 78 - Lastly, and probably the most boring answer I will give you... I don't really have an interesting "Dirtiest secret". I have been thinking about it and all I come with is the song "Dirty Little Secret" by The All-American Rejects haha. If we talk about "sex" my biggest secret was that when I had 12 yo I cried alone in my room because I started realizing I may like Emma Watson and I was so afraid of not liking boys because "It was the normal" and I loved Daniel Radcliffe so I felt like I was bretaying him? I don't know I had 12 yo hahaha But ey, I just found not so long ago that I'm bisexual so... Thanks Emma Watson. And if we talk about a "Dirty little secret" in the way The All-America Rejects talk, then I have a few. - I was sexually abused in a New Year's Eve like 6 or 7 years ago. - I have wished for my male progenitor to die several times, never out loud, just in my mind. - I fear about a memory of my past. I remember something that it is impossible that happened, like 100% impossible, so I'm afraid to discover the real memory this one is hiding. - I'm not a bad person, I could never hurt someone because I know how it feels when people hurt you really bad, but I know that if I had the power to go back 50 years, I could kill 3 persons. Maybe I don't have the most interesting answers, but they are all honest. Thank you so much for the questions, it feels like a game so I had fun! <3 Hope u have a really great week ^^