#and like. he’s a good coach? he loves the team??? he has shown time and time again love and respect for all of the teammates

[coachbeards]

the way we never got beard properly having in depth relationships with any team member lile girl why was he there

[azzifudd]

possession

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: four times paige & azzi knew they belonged to each other

rated: teen

2.5k words

disclaimer: many made up events obviously

[AO3 LINK]

The ball swishes through the net, nearly soundless in the empty gym. Azzi has been taking shots for the past three minutes. She hasn’t missed yet.

She had arrived at the UConn campus only 15 minutes ago, to surprise Paige for her birthday, and after nearly five minutes of hugging, that Azzi is sure Paige would’ve turned into more if her parents hadn’t been there, she had been dragged to the gym where the other girls were in recovery after a strenuous practice.

Paige had left her in the gym, promising to be back soon with the others, and Azzi had picked up a ball to pass the time. As she takes another jumpshot, one of the doors bangs open and she flinches. Her shot goes wide, bouncing off the back of the rim.

Two boys have entered the gym, and Azzi vaguely recognizes them. One of them rebounds her ball and brings it over to her.

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I’m Andre. I’m on the men’s basketball team.”

She’s heard Paige mention him once or twice.

“Y’know if you want any pointers with your jumper, I could help you out.” His eyes run over her, from head to toe.

“What’s your name?” He asks, overeager.

“Azzi,” she replies, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Dude, that’s Azzi. Bueckers’ girl.” His friend has come up beside them, after hearing Azzi introduce herself.

Azzi feels a flush overtake her entire body. Part of her almost wants to be offended that this boy, on one of the top college teams in the nation, didn’t recognize her. She’s the number one high school player in the nation, and it’s not even close. But another part of her, a bigger part of her, loves that so many miles away from home, a complete stranger hears her name and knows she’s Paige’s.

“Oh shit, you’re Paige’s Azzi. Azzi Fudd!” Andre covers his mouth and groans. “I was trying to teach you how to shoot.”

His teammate cackles beside him, slapping him on the back. “She’s been in three point contests with Steph Curry, my guy, I think she’s good.”

“Damn, that’s embarrassing. I’m so sorry.”

She smiles up at him, now charmed by the whole thing. “It’s cool, I didn’t know who you were either.”

“Oh! She got your ass.” His friend laughs again before turning to her and introducing himself. “I’m James.”

“Azzi.” They shake hands.

“Like I said, I know. PB does not shut up about you.” He does a quick dribble behind his back before pulling up into a smooth jump shot that swishes through the net. “We’ll be shooting around after practice and it’s ‘Oh, Azzi never would have missed that shot. She’s the hardest worker I know.”

“You shoulda seen her a few months ago. Always tapping away on that iPad, putting together clips.”

Azzi remembers the video that Paige had so proudly shown to her family. How silly, and sweet, and how Paige it had been. It makes Azzi even more excited for dinner tonight, where she will finally get to tell Paige that she is committing to UConn.

The door pushes open again, and this time it’s Paige who rushes over to them, throwing an arm around Azzi’s neck.

“Hey, these losers bothering you?” Paige asks, laughter clear in her voice. But Azzi knows that it would only take one word from her to set her off if Azzi asked.

“No, they’ve been cool,” she says.

“Well, Coach heard you were here and wanted to say hi. See you guys later.” Paige leads Azzi deeper into the facility.

And if they’re a little late to meet everyone because Azzi pulls Paige into a secluded broom closet for some alone time, no one needs to know but them.

//

Azzi’s sprinting around the top of the court, rounding one screen and then another, trying desperately to get open. She’s open for a split second, and that’s all it takes for Paige to hit her with the pitch perfect pass. She rises to take the three that could tie the game when a body barrels into her legs.

She hits the floor hard. A whistle blows as the referee calls what Azzi hopes is a shooting foul. She stays on the floor for a moment longer, catching her breath, when suddenly the arena erupts in noise.

Whistles blow, and she finally looks up to see a furious Paige being pulled back by their teammates as one of the referees signals a technical foul. She is spitting furiously at an opposing player. Nika is at her side, simultaneously holding her back from causing more trouble for them and firing Croatian insults at the other team.

Azzi won’t find out until someone shows her the footage after the game, but Paige had stormed over the moment she was fouled and had pushed the offending player with two hands to the chest.

The referee points off the court. Paige has been ejected.

Coach has run over, screaming as the officials struggle to get everything under control. Aaliyah runs over to help Azzi up.

“Paige! Get your ass over here, now!” Geno’s voice somehow booms over the raucous Gampel crowd.

Paige throws her arms up, shrugging their teammates off of her. Satisfied that she has calmed down, everyone begins to back off. But instead of heading off the court like she’s supposed to, she makes a beeline for Azzi, who is still slightly shaken but standing.

Paige raises a hand as if to touch Azzi’s face, but she stops, recognizing where they are. She rests the hand on her shoulder instead.

“You good?” She asks, voice hoarse from shouting.

Azzi nods, still breathing hard. “Why did you do that, you idiot.” But even as she asks, she knows the answer.

Paige smiles crookedly. It is soft despite the noise around them, tender in a way Azzi knows Paige saves just for her.

“Bueckers!” Geno roars. They know if he could storm the court for her, he would have already.

“Go,” Azzi says. “I’ll see you after I win this game.”

“That’s my girl.” Paige leaves the court with a smirk on her face, cheers of her name following her.

Azzi sinks the free throws to send them to overtime. And when they end up winning by eight, even Geno can’t complain too much.

@bueckersbuckets35 it’s bullshit that paige had to apologize. they were targeting azzi all game. bet she’d do it again in a heartbeat if she had to

Paige Bueckers liked this tweet.

//

“That layup you had in the third!” Paige mimes a euro step, mimics taking a shot with her left hand. “Left hand, baby, bang!”

Hailey van Lith laughs at Paige’s antics, pushing at her playfully. “I mean, it wasn’t enough to get the win against you guys, but it’s always a good time pulling up against you.”

Even if they didn’t talk all the time, it feels like there would always be a special connection between all the girls who had played together for USA Basketball.

Hailey glances around. “How’s the wifey been? I didn’t get a chance to talk with her at the arena.”

Paige grins at that. She knows Hailey means it as a joke, that they are way too young to even think about marriage, but there is always something deeply satisfying for Paige to hear someone acknowledge that she is Azzi's and Azzi is hers.

“She’s doing aight. Her surgery went well. It’s just a shit deal y’know.” There have been plenty of tear filled nights for them both since Azzi had experienced the freak injury, but now Azzi’s ready to move forward, and Paige will be there every step of the way, like Azzi was for her.

Hailey smiles apologetically. “I was really sorry to hear about it. I remember you could never shut up about playing with her.”

“Thank you.” They both jump when Azzi pops up beside them. She gives Hailey a quick hug hello before turning to Paige.

She’s surprised when Azzi wraps her arms around her waist, tucking herself under Paige’s arm, pressing their bodies together.

They are no strangers to PDA. In fact, if Paige had her way, she would never stop touching Azzi. But the younger girl is usually more reluctant around people she doesn’t know, and with Hailey’s teammates around, it is a surprise to see her so affectionate.

Paige isn’t going to complain. She tightens her arm around Azzi’s shoulder and presses a quick kiss to her temple. She catches a whiff of alcohol on her breath. That explains the touchiness.

They chat with Hailey for a bit longer, but when Azzi begins to zone out mid convo, Paige excuses them both and walks them up to Azzi’s apartment.

“She’s so pretty.”

“Huh?” Paige pauses as she wipes the last of Azzi’s makeup from her face as they stand in the bathroom together.

“Hailey. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Paige shrugs. “Mm, I guess so.” She moves in closer, nose pressing into Azzi’s head, breathing in the scent of her. “Let’s go to bed.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything else until they’re tucked in together in her bed.

“You were talking to her for a long time.”

“Huh?” Paige groans into the back of Azzi’s neck, already half asleep. When she finally registers the words, she replies, “Who?”

“Hailey,” she replies, like Paige should know exactly what she’s talking about.

“We were just catching up. It’s been a while.�� Paige presses a kiss to the side of Azzi’s neck, ready to fall asleep.

“Do you miss playing with her?”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” Paige props herself up on her elbow, turning Azzi onto her back to face her. She softens at the look on her girl’s face.

She presses a soft kiss to the dimple in Azzi’s cheek. And then she kisses her nose, her forehead, and all over her face until she’s smiling.

“Hey,” Paige says, making sure Azzi is looking into her eyes as she speaks. “You’ll be back. Best player in the nation, baby.”

Azzi pulls her into a deep kiss that still sends Paige’s head spinning and heart racing even after they have shared so many. When they pull apart, they are both breathless.

“Me and you.” Azzi’s eyes are shining and clear.

“You and me.” Paige gives Azzi a roguish grin and lets her pull her down once more.

//

“Yo, where’s P?” KK asks, scanning the room. It’s Senior Night, and they’re all getting dressed for the game. Even Azzi has just slipped into a jersey, even though she isn’t playing tonight.

“The seniors are on the court already. I think they had to do a run through of the ceremony. Why?”

Azzi is suspicious. KK looking for Paige is always a sign of something potentially stress inducing on the way.

“Oh, no reason, I just wanna make sure I’m outta the way when Daddy Paige sees you in her jersey for the first time.” KK cackles, ducking out of the way of the towel that Azzi flings at her.

“Nah, we all know there’s no way this is the first time she’s worn it.” Ice chimes in.

“Shut up,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes, glad that the fluorescent lights hide her blush. Surprisingly, she hasn’t worn Paige’s jersey since they were in high school, and even though she’d never admit it to her teammates, she is very excited to see how Paige reacts to it.

The injured players head into the arena just before tip off. The place is packed with fans there to celebrate the players who have given their all for UConn.

Besides that though, the media presence is palpable. The entire basketball world is waiting to hear whether Paige is staying or declaring. Azzi has known for weeks that Paige has decided to stay at UConn for another season. She has unfinished business, and even if they won the title this season, her injuries have robbed her of too much time here.

Azzi feels eyes on her as soon as they get into the open. She has been linked to Paige since before they even came here, so everyone is clearly gauging her mood on such an important night. She could try to play it more coy, but she can’t fight the smile on her face when she sees Paige warming up.

She’s getting one more year with her person. One more chance to fulfill the promise they made to each other when she chose UConn. She’s so happy.

Azzi waves up into the stands where hers and Paige’s family sit together, all wearing Bueckers gear. Drew jumps up and down when she makes a heart with her hands in his direction.

She’s stepping onto the court when she feels it. Goosebumps pimple her skin and she turns to where the majority of the team is casually warming up.

Paige stands at midcourt, staring at her, slack jawed. Azzi smiles coyly at her when Paige takes a step toward her, only to be stopped by CD who is standing next to her with a clipboard and an eyeroll.

Azzi just laughs and goes to take a few shots near the others. She isn’t close to being cleared to play, but she misses it so much. Even just being on the court during game days can be emotional lately. Soon, she feels a heated presence at her back.

Azzi turns around and finds Paige standing close. Too close for such a public place, but she can’t bring herself to move. Paige runs her eyes up and down Azzi’s body, lingering on where the number five splays proudly over her chest.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. You tryin’ to get me in trouble?” Paige asks, voice low.

“Just wanted to support my favorite player.” Azzi looks up at Paige from beneath her lashes, and finds those blue eyes fixated on her lips.

“She must be pretty damn good if she’s your favorite.”

Azzi watches the muscles in Paige’s arms and shoulders flex as she links her hands behind her back, stopping herself from reaching out to touch.

“She’s not bad.” Azzi smirks. “Could use some work on her shooting stroke though.”

Paige scoffs. “I’ll show you my str-”

Two arms suddenly wrap around their shoulders as KK comes barreling into them.

“K, what the hell?” Paige pushes at her as they fight to stay steady on their feet.

“Yo, mom and dad, y’all have got to tone it down.”

KK smiles at them. “Media girl is on the way for some pics and P looks like she’s about to jump you.”

Azzi flushes as they all separate.

“What would y’all do without me though, seriously.”

KK strikes a ridiculous pose, distracting the media girl so Paige and Azzi can rearrange themselves into a more platonic pose.

Azzi hopes no one can see how flustered she is when Paige whispers in her ear to keep the jersey on for after the game.

They take a few quick pictures before it’s time for tip off. It’s an easy win, everyone playing with joy and anticipation of the celebration after the game.

For a moment, Azzi feels deeply sad. She wants to be out there, next to her girls.

But then the final buzzer sounds, and Azzi watches Paige bask in the attention of the crowd who loves her almost as much as Azzi does, and forgets everything but the beaming smile on Paige’s face.

[futbol16]

Back From Lyon  • Alexia Putellas

Word count: 2,1k

Leaving Barcelona wasn’t a decision you thought you’d ever have to make, but you had to. It wasn’t that the team or the manager didn’t want you there, no, they asked you to stay and although you would have loved nothing more, it simply wasn’t something you could do.

 You found yourself in Lyon  for the 2019-20 season winning the UEFA women’s champions league scoring two of the four goals against Barcelona. It was bittersweet having to beat your former team, a team you called home.

 All you wanted to do was wrap all of the Barca girls in a big hug and apologize to them but you knew you couldn’t, instead you watched with tears in your eyes as Alexia cried on the grass.

You were called over for a quick interview, still on the field and you stood in front of the camera with a small smile.

“La Víbora and La Reina are rejoining their forces, what do you think about that?” the reporter asked you after your last match with the club. You laughed at the use of your nicknames, a piece of your hair flying in your line of sight due to the wind.

“I'd like to think it’s a good thing, you know Alexia and I grew up together, this had been our first time in different clubs, apart from her one season at Levante. Yeah, yeah it will be nice to get back home to Barca.” you nodded at your own words before confetti is thrown at you by one of your teammates who drags you away from the interview.

Your return to your hometown was well awaited by the fans and your teammates as you had promised your manager to only have one season away from the club. He was reluctant to agree but upon hearing your explanation for the sudden want to leave, he understood that it was more than football. 

You were just as excited to get back, though there was a nervousness sitting at the bottom of your heart, wondering if the distance helped resolve the conflict you once had.

The Barca team sat in the meeting room as their coach and manager introduced the new signings. It was secretly made into a game by the women, competing to see who could guess the player first, based on the introductory video they’d play. 

Three of the new players were brought up from the B team and as the last video ends, Mapi exclaims worriedly.

“Where’s Y/N?” she looks towards the manager who opens his mouth but is cut off by multiple of the women.

“Yeah, she promised she’d be back!”

“She’s not staying in Lyon, right?”

Coming to the conclusion that the only way he could silence them was to show the video, he types away at his computer before the cheering of the crowd fills the room as the video starts.

“RAS RAS RAS” the crowd chants as you make your way out onto the field.

“She's quick. She's smart. The take-off power she has, her speed with the ball.”

“We all know her strengths, she’s undoubtedly one of the best in the world.”

Your Barcelona and Lyon coach both speak into the camera, clips from interviews.

The Barca girls watch your skills shown on the video with knowing looks, smiles and the three new signings with looks of amusement and adoration for you.

“She became a role model, children all over the world love her. Y/N gets purple boots, then the whole world gets purple boots.” Ada Hegerberg, your now former teammate, comments with a laugh.

“She plays with flair, she plays with passion. Everything she does is for football.” Your best friend, Alexia says.

Alexia looks down to her lap, playing with her fingers and she feels eyes on her, no doubt Jenni or Lieke’s.

You soon enter the room with a blinding grin and quickly catch the two women that throw themselves at you. You hug Leila and Mapi once you’ve managed to set them down. 

Your teammates are quick to greet you, all trying to catch up with you and voicing how happy they were about your return.

“Please welcome back Y/N Ras!”

On your first match back with Barcelona you show the fans again just how good you are and it’s obvious that you still have the strong chemistry with your teammates that you had before Lyon. It’s like you never actually left. 

The game ends with a wonderful win to Barca, something that doesn’t surprise anyone too much. 

Sitting in the locker room you pull Mapi and Leila into you, laughing away at one of the comments the girls made. You don’t see Alexia looking over at you, or maybe you just choose to ignore it, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by Jenni who nudges the brunette next to her.

“What’s up with you? Normally the two of you would practically be sitting in each other's lap after such a win.” Jenni raises an eyebrow at the silence that follows her words, Alexia not daring to open her mouth. 

Jenni sighs at her. “Have you talked to her yet?”

Once again Alexia stays silent, though she shakes her head. Jenni pulls her into her side.

“Well promise me to speak to her during the next week.”

It’s now your turn to turn to them, eyeing their closeness with a frown, you knew they were close, they always had been but you’ve never seen Jenni look at the girl like that before. 

Throughout the next week every hangout soon turns into team bonding, the girls wanting to spend as much time with you as they could. Your routines and habits with Leila and Mapi continue to be, the two of them haven’t left your side since your return.

Jana, one of the girls from the B team approaches you, grinning and saying something about a wall with your face. You look at her confused and she directs you to one of the hallways of the training facility.

It seems that while you were away the club had turned it into some sort of hall of fame. Large pictures of former and present Barcelona players are painted onto the wall ranging from Lionel Messi to Melanie Serrano and your eyes widen as you stumble upon your own picture. 

Walking closer you read the Individual achievements listed under your jersey number.

Ballon d'Or Féminin: 2019

The Best FIFA Women's Player: 2018, 2019

UEFA Women's Player of the Year: 2017-18, 2019-20

UEFA Women's Champions League Midfielder of the Season: 2019-2020

World Soccer Women's World Player of the Year: 2017, 2018

Catalan Player of the Year: 2014, 2016, 2018, 2019

Spain women's national team Player of the Year: 2019

Fútbol Draft Best XI: 2010, 2011,  2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2018

These were only a few of the listed titles and you look up abruptly at the sound of cleats hitting the floor. You spot Alexia walking towards where you stand, she as well looking at your picture.

“Pretty nice, no?” she asks, but you don’t look at her, eyes still skimming over the list.

“I don't remember getting so many..”

“Well I guess it was hard to keep count of.” you look at her with distaste and with a click of your tongue you shake your head at her, turning and walking away.

“Wait, Y/N!..”

You weren’t going to have this conversation again. It was why you had asked for a loan in the first place and you thought the distance between the two of you would help, but clearly it hadn’t.

Alexia doesn’t manage to find you and she gets to the pitch out of breath, Jenni looking at her weirdly, She doesn’t pay Hermoso any mind though, her eyes locked on your form now leaning against Leila. 

The next time Alexia finds you alone is after your extra practice with her, something that had been a normal occurrence for the two of you since before Barcelona. 

Although your chemistry was undeniable and the two of you played better together than ever before, it seemed as though you had made it your mission to avoid the brunette whenever you could. 

She thinks you’ve already left when she takes a quick scan of the field but instead finds you sitting on a ball, already showered and wrapped in a hoodie, staring into space. 

She softly lets her training bag slide down her shoulder and fall to the ground with a soft thump and she gets her own ball, silently sitting next to you. She hopes you won’t leave as she scans the side of your face, but you continue to stare straight ahead.

“I’m glad you’re back.” she states honestly, but you only hum at her words.

“I missed you, you know.” you turn towards her at that, trying to figure out if she’s telling the truth. She gives you a small nod and you let out your own “I missed you too.”

You expect the next question even though you wished she wouldn’t bring it up in a calm moment like this when the two of you finally talking to each other.

“Why’d you leave?” you don’t answer her. “I mean come on Y/N, you were great here, the team was complete, there was no reason for you to leave!...Did I do something?”

The look of disbelief that crosses your face makes her almost fall off the ball she’s sitting on and you stand, fists balled in anger. She’s quick to follow you, ready to reach out if you were to leave her there again.

“You accused me Alexia! How can you forget that?!” she recoils at the hurt expression slowly taking over your features. 

She wants to reach out, to smooth out the furrow of your eyebrows but she knows this isn’t the correct time for that. 

So she listens to you instead.

“You accused me of one upping you in everything, in wanting to take away your glory or whatever. My last year at Barca was spent listening to your complaints about me getting each award before you, you didn’t understand why I was the only one getting the recognition when we came from the same clubs. You made me feel like I didn’t belong here, that I didn’t deserve it.” you take a deep breath, angry tears sliding down your cheeks.

“You called me selfish Alexia! That’s what happened.” you attempt to pathetically wipe away the tears, failing as more just keep appearing. 

She’s crying now as well and for a moment you feel guilty, but she deserved this. You both knew it. 

Your best friend has turned against you, forcing you out of her life for those few months. You didn’t only lose Alexia, you lost your family too. Alexia’s little sister, Alba, was also very close to you and their mother had practically raised you. 

Alexia pulls you into a hug, one you don’t fight as your emotions come crashing down and you grasp her jersey tightly as you hold onto her for dear life.

 She lets you cry, herself quietly crying into your hair. The two of you stay like that for a while, unknowingly calming each other and when you pull away from her, the defeated expression on your face makes her heart break even more. 

“I'm so sorry, God I’m so sorry Y/N I wish I had never said those things, I’m so sorry -” she’s ranting but all you can focus on is the way the lights of the pitch make her eyes shine even more and suddenly you’re back to your younger self who’s crush on her best friend was obvious to everyone, except to said friend.

Her words die in her throat as you reach out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear before your hand moves to cup her face and she leans into your touch. 

“Just promise me to never do it again.” you whisper, you had forgiven her the moment you left but she didn’t know that. 

Alexia slowly moves closer to you, your bodies flush.

“Never ever again.” she nods truthfully and you pull her closer, her own hands holding you impossibly close by your waist. You contemplate for a second, wondering if this is the right thing to do but as you gaze into her eyes, all your doubts vanish.

Both of you melt into the kiss and Alexia savors the moment, it had been something she wanted to do since the two of you were 16 and making your international debut together.

“I love you.” you mutter on her lips.

“I love you endlessly.” she confesses before pulling you into another kiss and the two of you stand in each other's hold under the few lights lighting up the pitch.

You were definitely more than happy to be back from Lyon.

[teex]

@tristealven veryvery kindly sent me this great article on roope from earlier in the year. it is in finnish, but the google translation was v legible. there was So much good stuff in it that while i’ve compiled some here, the full article is def worth a read.

+ roope was a “teen idol”. before and after HIFK's games, there was always a large crowd, sometimes hundreds of fans waiting.  --“We went anywhere, there was always a crowd. When I got off the bus, they wanted numbers, pictures, hugs and everything. It was pretty cool,” Hintz recalls now.

+ there used to be an assumption that roope was not a hard worker. --“I’ve always thought that you could come and watch my training and see what it's like,” he announces. --On why people think he’s lazy: “Maybe it's because I'm not the kind of person who stays at home for the rest of the day after summer training. I guess you can get an idea of that if you see me outside somewhere with friends”

--jouko myrra, an old coach, said: “His body language had the kind of relaxedness of a basketball player. It's a part of our sport that you have to be so damn tense. The whole time you have to tighten your face like a violin string. "”Hiipe”" came to the training sessions with a relaxed feeling and relaxed muscles. He did everything well, but in no way overemphasized it, but hustled through relaxation and fun. Then someone might think that the guy is not a top trainee. There was no way I was left with that feeling.”

+ he had and still uses a figure skating coach

+ an interesting note about an old team: At that time, Ilves was one of the bottom teams in the league. It has also been claimed that the club's own top talent would not have been allowed to breathe freely in the dressing room of the representative team, but Hintz has never said a bad word about Ilves.

+ he is very focused on performance  and thinks carefully about what to eat on game days

+ the scorpion tattoo on his left arm is for scorpio

+ about his nhl debut:  He doesn't remember anything about the match except the rookie lap with Miro Heiskanen . Not even the opposing team, which was Arizona.

+roope on the team’s chemistry: “Robertson didn't play then (2020 playoffs), but was already in the bubble with the team. They went on the ice with the "black aces" team at different times, but like Ty Dellandrea, for example, they were always involved in meals and other things. I bet that time brought our group and organization a lot closer.”

+roope on his style: “I basically don't care what other people think. Everyone has their own style,” Hintz says and mentions that he likes the style of Yankee rapper Asap Rocky and Finnish Mikael Gabriel , among others .

some quotes from different people on roope:

“Even then I got a really smart impression. Hine was really interested in all things culture, art and, for example, the music business even then. We had a lot of good conversations. And when we drove to lunch in Hine's Audi, the rap roared.” (TV host, Siim Livik)

“He spent the summer alone in Tampere and in that sense was a traveler of his own way. He had a tight court there. I think it's great how Roope wanted to get to know himself and find his own way.” (IFK coach, Antti Tormanen)

“I like Roope's tenacity, perseverance and not giving up. Roope has shown those who once doubted the hardness of his character. He has always had skill, but now he has also shown everyone his toughness. And it's not always remembered to mention that he has a hell of a big heart and love for hockey.” (old coach, Jouko Myrra)

“Roope is intelligent, has quick wits and a good sense of humor.” (Roope’s agent, Markus Lehto)

“He is always on the cutting edge of fashion. A genuine guy who loves the game and people. A very easy person. In the group, he was a bit quieter, but when I got to know him, he opened up to me.” (Texas Stars teammate, Sheldon Dries)

“A great guy. A bit quiet, but once you got him out of his shell, could talk about anything.” (Corey Perry)

“A really fun and relaxed guy, but when it comes to work, the overalls are on. He doesn't fuss too much.” (Sebastian Aho)

[oh-stars]

Grapevine

Love is giving them space when they need it.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1692 words | CW: minor character death mentioned | Rating: T

--

It wasn’t a spectacular day to start with, but Eddie really didn’t think it could get much worse than it had been. Steve had been late to work because of a phone call with their landlord that took too long and Eddie overslept because he never wakes up to the alarm, can barely hear it in his slumber so when Steve didn’t wake him up along with the alarm, there was no hope for him. They’d been panicking and scrambling to get out the door to the point they both forgot to kiss each other goodbye – which is the biggest red flag for an awful day. 

Eddie’s boss kept giving him the most impossible cars to work on, and the one time he had an easy fix, the customer was a dick. He kept nitpicking what Eddie was doing, from pointing out where the spark plugs were down to how much force he used to tighten the bolts. It was so bad that he had to work through lunch to finish on time, which meant he was clumsier than normal. And if he dropped his wrench on his face one more time, he was going to lose it. 

Steve’s day wasn’t much better, with parents calling him so frequently about the upcoming field trip that he could barely teach. Of course his students picked up on that, too, so they were especially unruly between the excitement for the end of the week trip and the idea they could get away with it. Then he had to cover for Sheila’s pick up duty and had already told Ron he’d take over his afterschool program during his paternity leave 

So they were both already in sour moods when they met up at the diner after work. 

“I’m so glad we already made this plan,” Steve admits as he adjusts his glasses to read the menu. Why? Eddie has no idea. 

“It’s a standing date,” Eddie says with a laugh, fingers playing with their straw wrappers. 

Steve shrugs. “Still better than cooking dinner.” 

Eddie lets out a breath. “You got that right.” 

“I don’t know what I want,” Steve mumbles, tapping a finger against his temple from where his elbow’s propping up his head. 

“Want me to choose for you?” Eddie asks, hooking his ankle around Steve’s. It’s an unspoken understanding in the community that they’re together, but the less said and shown the better. It’s been years since anyone’s tried to invoke some kind of reaction, but Steve’s reputation as a coach for the basketball team at the high school does wonders. Eddie’s always amazed that a few good years of a sports ball thing could have an entire community turning a blind eye to a couple of “sinners” like them. Who cares if Steve’s a homosexual when he’s leading their boys to championships three years in a row? 

Steve nods and sets down the menu. He offers it to Eddie but Eddie really doesn’t need it. 

When the waitress comes back, he orders them both breakfast platters with extra sausages for Steve and a side of pancakes to share. The smile on Steve’s face is enough to know he chose right. 

“Breakfast for dinner?” Steve asks, leaning forward. 

Eddie just grins. “Felt like that kind of day.” He really means that today’s been shitty enough and they both could use the pick me up. It’s obvious Steve’s at his limit; he only has a hard time voicing his wants on really tough days, where the world expects him to give every shred of himself over for little in return. Eddie knew this was coming, had seen how Steve was having more and more days of quiet nights and clinginess as his brain begged him to take a break. It happens a few times a year, so Eddie’s prepared. 

Steve takes a sip from his pop and plays with the straw, foot twitching against Eddie’s leg. “Are you willing to reschedule Hellfire?” he asks softly, batting his eyelashes to sweeten the deal. 

“I don’t know, Stevie,” Eddie says, dragging it out. He will, for Steve. The others will bitch and moan, tease him for bending over backwards for Steve but rarely giving the same courtesy to the others. It’s not his fault none of them are in significant relationships right now. 

“C’mon, I just want to get away,” Steve says, there’s almost a whine to each syllable. 

Eddie collapses into his side of the booth, back of his hand held to his forehead. “Fine, if we must,” he says. Getting away sounds perfect, really. Going somewhere where they can be anonymous or just hunker down in a hotel room to themselves… Yeah, that’s just what the doctor ordered. Maybe they can find a hotel that has a big enough bath for the both of them or has a hot tub they can soak in – whatever would work to sooth his aching back and joints. Then his stress could fall away too. 

Steve’s smile is so wide, even as he laughs, it nearly melts away the stress he’s holding in his shoulders. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Of course, Stevie,” he says, sitting up. He’s about to say something else when a man calls out to Steve. 

“Yes, sir?” Steve asks, taking off his glasses as he sits up to face the other patron. 

It’s Mr. Seymour, he used to work at the bank before he retired. Now he’s down at Melvad’s, giving Eddie disapproving looks whenever he stops in for his smokes. He walks forward, cane snapping against the tile loudly, and offers Steve his hand. 

Steve stands to shake it. “How are you doing, Mr. Seymour?” 

He waves him off. “I’m doing about as best as I can be,” he says. Then shakes his head. “I won’t keep you long.” Mr. Seymour gives a great big sigh and shakes his head. “I just needed to give you my condolences.” 

Condolences?

Eddie tries to catch Steve’s eye, but he’s not looking at him. Instead, Steve’s brow stays furrowed as his lips form a question he doesn’t get to ask. 

Mr. Seymour continues. “I was about your age when I lost my own father. It’s never easy, no matter how much time you get with ‘em. And your father,” Mr. Seymour whistles, “he was something special. Always knew he would make it big and he did. Haven’t seen someone who knew how to make a deal since he left Hawkins. It’s a damn shame he passed so young. Just a damn shame.” 

A pen could have dropped in the bubble of silence that surrounds the three of them. Eddie sits up a bit straighter. Why didn’t Steve mention his dad died? He went on a three hour rant after Father’s Day when his dad sent him to voicemail all weekend and couldn’t let go of the passive aggressive self-help book his dad sent for Christmas and birthdays. He would have mentioned his passing. Right?

Steve’s expression is blank. A steely look of control and a practiced emptiness that sends chills down his spine.

Shit. He didn’t know. 

“Thank you, sir,” Steve manages to say. 

Mr. Seymour nods and claps Steve’s shoulder before he shuffles back toward his table of elderly men. He gets to live in blissful ignorance of the bomb he just dropped on Steve’s world, leaving Eddie to help pick the shrapnel out of their arms and piece it all back together. 

Steve drops back into his side of the booth and runs a shaky hand through his hair. 

Eddie knows he’s far, far away, stuck in his head as the words sink in. He thanks the waitress for the food and quietly nudges Steve into eating. He doesn’t press when Steve stops after a few bites, just eats his own food and grabs the ticket to pay. Steve doesn’t even acknowledge him as he guides him back to Eddie’s van, leaving the Beemer in the driveway. He’ll call Wayne and see if he can’t take him to pick it up later, after he makes sure Robin’s got Steve. Steve shouldn’t be alone right now, not really at least.    

He keeps his right hand on the center console, palm up in case Steve needs the contact. Steve doesn't take it through their drive back to the apartment, barely looks at him while they make their way up the steps. 

Steve wanders through the house in a haze until he ends up in their bedroom, door closed behind him. 

Eddie sighs and leans against the back of the couch. He can’t imagine how broken things have to be that Steve finds out his dad died through a stranger, off-handedly. They didn’t have a perfect relationship, not by far, but Steve’s mom was still alive and their relationship was definitely better. 

He shakes his head. Fuck the Harringtons. 

With a deep breath, Eddie takes off his shoes and heads toward the bedroom. He’s quiet as he slips inside and doesn’t bother turning the light on, using the hall and natural light to see. 

Steve’s just sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. 

Eddie kneels down beside him and carefully unties his shoes. He peels them off and reaches for Steve’s jacket. “Let’s get you comfortable, baby. Then I’ll give you some space,” Eddie whispers. 

That gets Steve to look at him for a moment, dark eyes shining in the dim light. He squeezes them shut but lets Eddie maneuver his arms to remove his jacket and swap his work polo for a sleep-shirt. Steve helps him take off his pants and slip his legs into Eddie’s pajamas, the old flannels ones with a hole at the crotch that’s noticeable but not big enough to toss yet. 

“There you go,” Eddie whispers. He leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. “I’ll be outside if you need me or want to talk, okay?” 

Steve just nods, slipping under the covers and curling up. 

Eddie creeps back out of the room. In a moment, he’ll call Robin and let her know. But for now, he’ll give Steve his space, let him process it all on his own time.

--

Thanks to @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

[sunshinechay]

His dad didn’t check in with Sprite a single time this entire episode. Didn’t ask how he was holding up. Didn’t ask if this was becoming too much. Didn’t ask if he thought he could keep going. All he kept asking about was Zee. How is Zee doing? How bad are his injuries? How are you doing with HIS volleyball practices?

Sprite may have volunteered to do it, but that doesn’t mean his own parents can go without checking in on him. Yet they don’t, and Sprite doesn’t even think about asking for it anymore. He doesn’t complain about the toll it’s taking on his body. Having to do both sports. He only complains that he isn’t good at volleyball like Zee is so he caused the team to loss. It’s ironic that Salmon is the only one to ask about this because she isn’t even Sprite’s friend, she’s Zee’s girlfriend. Sprite probably thinks she’s only doing it because she is concerned about Zee’s place on the team, not about Sprite and how soon his body is going to give out from under him.

To watch the hope and light die just a little bit more in Sprite’s eyes each passing day is hard. All anyone cares about is Zee. Zee is the one in the hospital. Zee is the one their mother pours all of her effort into. (I honestly have so much to say about their mother and none of it good). Zee is the golden child that their parents immediately go too when he’s sick or injured.

Zee is the one both of them finally listen to when he tells them to leave his hospital room. Neither can even show the maturity necessarily to hold back arguing about Zee as if he isn’t even there. And if Zee isn’t even there, where exactly is Sprite?

Both of their parents seem to only think about their children in terms of what they can do for them. Zee’s talent in volleyball out weigh Sprite’s talent in jiujitsu to them. Zee is the quiet one who did as they said without comment. Zee is the good child who suffers in silence and does not make trouble, whereas Sprite causes nothing but trouble.

It’s honestly no wonder Zee finally can’t take it anymore. His anger at Sprite might be misplaced, but I get where it is coming from. He can’t suffer in silence anymore. He can’t take the weigh of his mother’s disproportionate expectations and his father’s distance. He can’t take that his brother seems to have a carefree life, void of the constraints of the world. It’s no wonder he wants what Sprite has.

It’s also no wonder why Sprite does what he does. He mouths off to his teammates, not knowing or realizing that they are capable of such extremes (who on earth would want to believe that) and causes Zee’s hospitalization. He wants to do everything he can to get his mother to pay attention to him because for all that he might have come to terms with it, he is still a little boy desperate for his mother’s love and affection, even if it comes with strings as thick as rope for him to dangle himself over the precipitous. Even if in the end, she still won’t give it to him. He still want to make things better for the brother who hates him for something that isn’t even his fault.

Sprite has only been shown time and time again that his parents may take care of him, but they do it because they have too. They do it because he was the plus one to Zee’s birth. They might love him because he is their son, but they do not care about him.

So Sprite tries with the team. Tries to get on their good side and make friends and build something with them because he wants them to like his brother (always his brother, never him). Only to be forced back into the corner and belittled and ignored because he isn’t his brother. He doesn’t have the skills necessary to play like his brother does because it’s impossible to build those skills in only a few short weeks when Zee’s been doing it for years. And he can’t even tell them why he can’t play as well as Zee can because if he does that and one of them tells the coach then the whole team is screwed.

Sprite is walking a dangerously tight rope and he is going to fall one day. He is going to fall and he needs to learn about to catch himself because he knows in his heart he has no safety net. He has no one save a single friend who only knows half the story, who only knows what Sprite tells him. He doesn’t believe he has his family to fall back on. He knows he doesn’t have the team to fall back on. He only has himself because it’s been proven to him time and time again. So he tries his damnest to make sure nothing effects him. He tries so hard to get better at volleyball, to make his parents proud, to make sure he does his best for his teammate, to make sure that his brother has a life and a sport to come back too. He tries so hard NOT to think about the fact that his father doesn’t check in with him when he finally comes clean.

[keylozmi]

yellowjackets team (alive by season 2) rating and ranking

1. Misty - 9.5/10

i said she was annoying but like i get her now. in both the crash and adult timeline, she has the best story and characterization. maybe because her actresses are so great, but definitely her whole arc is unrivaled.

2. Nat - 9/10

her storylines in both arcs are extremely good. definitely the most important yellowjackets member along with misty, i love their little tandem. i just don't like her purple era but she did find a daughter there!

3. Shauna - 9/10

make up your fucking mind girl! one minute she's against lottie's weird cult shit, the next second she's chasing natalie so she can kill her for food and say the wilderness chose! however her craziness post-birth must be a sort of post natal psychosis. adult shauna makes up like 7 points of the 8.5, she's the better shauna for me because she's a straight up loser with an equally loser husband.

4. Coach Scott - 8/10

high ranking out of pure pity like i am so worried for this man. i hope he's still alive and he's experiencing time-traveling hallucinations or whatever, since time traveling is a pretty big theory. i wish he does survive and all the paul scenes are his present scenes but he's gone off the rocks and thinks he's still in the wilderness. this dude is the only one not extremely or supernatully fucked up bc he didn't participate in the cult thing hopefully. BURN THEM CABINS DOWN BAYBEEE

5. Lottie - 7.5/10

when your schizophrenic dreams are misinterpreted by the rest of the group and you're forced to be the face of cannibalism 😂😂🤣🤣. robbed shauna of her cannibal crown. was just being un-medicated then the rest of the team decided to honor her like a god. there were times were she was annoying but you realize she quite literally has done nothing but every single sidekick of hers decides to speak for her and it just goes wrong every single time.

6. Taissa - 7/10

tie. extremely curious about the bad tai and the man with no eyes, which serves as the only "supernatural" event in the series shown that is not in the wilderness or post-wilderness. it would be fucking crazy if tai was the one who bought "It" in the wilderness instead of it like actually already being there, like maybe that was their home? with all the cult symbols or whatever. sometimes i do just find her boring im sorry, she's just like shauna she's extremely indecisive and it's pissing me off! only 7 bc FREE SIMONE ❤️ joking

8. Travis - 7/10

i pity this man so much but sometimes he's boring and his season 1 arc had me skipping scenes. but his brother went missing, "died", came back, then actually died and then no one said "sorry we had to give up your brother to the wilderness, it was either nat or him and the wilderness chose him! we honestly could've atleast tried in helping him get out of the ice cold water but we were hungy". like can we please give this man a break? i wouldn't be surprised if him and natalie refused to hunt for them, if they're all just going to pick cards and eat each other, why hunt for deer, right?

9. Van - 5/10

i feel like one of the only people with a dislike for van's character like. lottie dickrider, i get you "owe" the wilderness for letting you live like you're obviously the favorite but the way she treats the other yellowjackets pisses me off, especially when she straight up said to travis she wasn't ashamed for sacrificing javi? why is she a stronger indoctrinated christian than lottie? i wish they reveal more about her because to be honest her character's a bit of a blank slate, it would be amazing if they start showing a more deeper relationship between her and whatever's in the wilderness. i feel like, in both the show and the fandom, van doesn't have much to her character without tai. her only storyline without tai is with her mother, which we were shown barely 30 seconds of.

10. Mari - 3/10

i just need her gone

11. girl with the shoulder length hair aka pit girl contender number 56 - 2/10

i remember one line of hers and she was rude to shauna and i just didn't like it

12. lesbian w the cap - 2/10

rude to shauna! dye your hair black and i'll give you a bigger role as possible pit girl number 57

[0alanasworld0]

Dedication (Hakim Ziyech x reader) *request

Request: "Hakim Ziyech X wife!reader where everyone just loves them together and he dedicates his goal at the WC to her..."

Pt2 - Perseverance

Warnings: none

Hakim had no intentions of returning to the Moroccan national team. He loved his country and teammates with all his heart but couldn’t bear the risk of being so poorly treated as he once was. After everything he gave up the last time: his money, his time, his own wellbeing and all for Halilhodžić to treat him as a scapegoat for the losses. He never caught a break, not during the training in the build-up to the 2018 tournament nor during the world cup itself. It was hell and he had much less distressing means of making a living. 

He had to admit, there were moments where he felt drawn to return again. When he saw Zakaria score his first ever goal for Morocco during a friendly. When he saw little Ounahi come out of his shell and use the very tricks he had shown him. He could feel goosebumps on the comfort of his home couch when he saw the Moroccan crowd chant his name, hoping and praying for his return. Thousands of miles away, he could still feel it. And he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to come back. 

You always made an effort to hide your phone whenever you checked in on those games. He would tell you he didn’t mind but you knew that his national team was a soft spot for him. It broke his heart to leave, albeit with very good reasons, and the last thing you wanted to do was remind him of what he was missing. However, you weren’t always successful in this regard. You were cuddling together as you scrolled through tiktok and this was something you couldn’t control. Hakim happened to be looking over your shoulder for that one tiktok. A short clip of the chanting, followed by the commentary of some annoying armchair analyst about the goings on. He bit his lip, looking down. 

“I’m so sorry, my love I-”

“No no, don’t apologise! I’m fine, I swear!” he reassures you, giving you a tight hug and kissing your cheek. He continues to sit for a few minutes before opting to get a glass of water. He stayed there for a second to gather his thoughts, mind wandering to his team again. How are they all? Are they taking breaks between sessions? Are they being treated well? Did they celebrate after yesterday’s win? His thoughts are all over the place but he pushes it all aside. It's a rare rest day and he intends on spending every minute of every hour with you in his arms.

The national team fiasco leaves his mind soon after returning to you as you watch some of your favourite videos together.

He’s sleeping soundly, an arm draped around your waist as his head lays in the crook of your neck. The peaceful moment is interrupted by his phone vibrating on the bedside table. You shift and groan in confusion and he kisses your neck, lulling you to sleep once more as he grabs his phone. Which idiot is calling him this late? What stupid situation has Mason got himself into this time?

He’s utterly baffled by the name displayed on the screen. They talk all the time but the timing is utterly bizarre.

“Yassine, my friend. You’re treading on very thin ice.” hakim grumbles, looking back over at you to make sure you’re still asleep.

“Well thank Allah that I'm thousands of miles away (!)” Hakim pinches the bridge of his nose, Yassine is undeniably a wonderful friend but this is unusual behaviour from him and Hakim doesn’t like it.

“Great conversation. I look forward to our next 3am rambling session, bye now-”

“Wait no hold on. Look, I overheard a little conversation the coach was having with the governing body…”

“The ice is cracking, Yassine.”

“Okay okay look, I think he’s about to be replaced. Yesterday’s match may have gone well but they seem to think he’s not the right person for the job in the long-term.”

“It took those geniuses long enough to figure that one out.”

“You’re telling me. You should have seen coach yell at Abde after the match for joining that chant.”

“I’m assuming you yelled back?”

“Naturally.”

“Taking after me then? At this rate, you’re all going to be kicked off.”

“With that amoeba in charge, we’ve all been considering it anyway. BUT if there’s a new coach…”

“You all stand a much better chance!”

“Yeah I was hoping the ‘you’ could change to a ‘we’”

“Yassine, I can’t”

“You said you loved this team and coach was standing in the way last time. You were right to leave and we all understand that completely. What's stopping you with a new coach? We all still adore you, y’know?”

“Look, we don’t even know if this is real yet! I don’t want to get our hopes up.”

“Well when the news does come out, know that the offer is going to be on the table. We need you, Hakim. Tell me that you’ll think about it, at least.”

“IF the news is real, I’ll consider it.” Hakim can almost hear Yassine smile at that but furrows his eyebrows. He thinks he can hear some mumbling in the background.

“Yassine, are there people with you- wait Yousef?”

“Okay good talk, man. See you soon! Give the missus our my salam!” the dial tone sounds, indicating that Yassine has hung up the call and had put him on speaker for the rest of the team who were almost certainly sitting right there with him. A small smile makes its way onto his face at the thought of his own team anticipating his return. He turns to look at you, your mouth slightly twitching into a smile and eyes fluttering as you struggle to feign sleep.

“I know you’re awake, my love.” He whispers, smile widening as he tickles you. You shriek with laughter, moving onto your back as he moves to lay by your side, elbow propped up with his head resting on his hand. He can see the excitement in your eyes, not necessarily for yourself but you know that his mind wanders to question his decision. Could he have handled it? The answer was no and he did the right thing for himself but a new opportunity now hangs in the air, one that could return him to his beloved team again.

“It might not even be real, I don't want to get our hopes up.”

“You’re right but it doesn’t hurt to consider the outcomes, no?”

“I suppose…” He sees you struggling to keep your eyes open and smiles softly. Whatever happens, at least he has his beautiful wife there with him. You were with him when he quit the team, holding him as he stressed about whether he was making a huge mistake. You were his rock throughout those first few months after the news broke out. When some old fans turned on him for a perceived lack of loyalty, when his ex “coach” was mouthing off about him to the press, when he cried at the idea of his teammates being resentful of the decision. He’s so happy he married you. You were his oasis amongst all the stresses of his career. 

“We should probably sleep, my love.” You hum softly in agreement.

He lays on his back and carefully rolls you over so that you lay your head on his chest. His eyes fluttering to a close. Hopefully this time, the sleep will be without interruptions.

“I gave Walid your number by the way.”

“Of course you did, Nayef. I expect no less from any of you.” Hakim sighs. He pretends to be annoyed but secretly, everytime one of them indicates a desire for his return, he’s a step closer to booking a flight, walking into the stadium and training with everyone like nothing happened. But he holds off and waits. doubts still race through his mind and the memories of the last experience serve to continue his hesitancy.

Hours later, Walid Regragui himself has texted Hakim and organised a Zoom meeting to discuss future plans.

He genuinely doesn’t know what to think. Would the governing body just pick a Halilhodžić 2.0?  For all he knows, this could all just be history repeating itself

Hakim takes a deep breath, mumbling a prayer before entering the call. He’s met with a very friendly looking face with a beaming smile, already promising…

“Ah, Hakim! What an honour to meet you!” Hakim smiles at that, he feels good about this.

“Likewise! The team has said many good things about you already!”

“I’m glad to hear that, it's a promising team and I have real faith in all of them. Listen, I’m not going to beat around the bush with this. We need you on the team.”

Everyone’s prayers have been answered. Hakim makes his reappearance during one of the final qualifier matches, having trained with the team since mid-August. It was a huge relief for everyone to see him again and his friends were ecstatic to have their team feel complete after so long. The crowd went wild at his entrance. Of course they had known for a while now but seeing him in the flesh was a different experience. The electricity of the crowd only served to energise the team and allowed for a picture perfect victory. Hakim is ecstatic and the first thing he wants is to celebrate with you so he turns to forming a heart with his hands towards you. your friends are cheering as they tease you a little bit. you blush at the gesture and return it as the crowd cheer for the pair of you.

This was definitely the right decision.

He’s pacing around the hotel room.

“Anything could happen, habibi. Imagine if we lost to Canada!” The pacing clearly isn’t helping his mind when you stand, placing a hand on his back and guiding him to sit down on the bed. You gently turn his head so he’s looking at you and kiss him softly. He immediately relaxes as he cups your cheek with his hand. You pull away for breath but he brings you back in for another shortly after, his other hand moving to wrap around your waist to pull you closer. When he needs to pull away for breath, he keeps his forehead on yours and his eyes stay closed. 

“You guys had Croatia on the ropes, Canada is nothing. Yassine said no to them anyway.” He smiles at that but the worry returns once more.

“You see, that's how they trick you! And then you end up losing to Saudi Arabia in your opening match!” you laugh and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“Last I checked, the teams that care about every match as much as you end up doing exactly what's expected. So long as you don’t treat this match like a chance to poke fun at the other side, you’re gonna be okay, inshallah.” he hums in vague agreement.

“Do you think I made the right decision in coming back?”

“My love, I haven't seen you so happy playing football in a long time. This team clearly makes you happy and that's enough for me.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the one with the words.” so gently smack his arm at that. You have a good feeling about the upcoming days and that's all you can really say.

The hours have finally passed, after spending your time exploring the streets of Qatar, buying some gifts for family on the way while Hakim has his final training sessions with the team, you and hakim;s mother manage to find your seats in the stadium. You’re slightly concerned and hope that his worries in the morning have dissipated. Your seat is fairly close to the barrier so you can discern some faces, smiling widely as you see your husband in his starting position, focussed as ever.

It's a couple of minutes into the match and the Moroccan attack is already decimating the Canadian defence. The ball is passed to Hakim who performs one of his signature crosses and makes an extremely risky attempt. The angle is tight and the goalkeeper appears to be moving in the right direction. You’re frozen in place as you keep your eye on the ball.

Your reaction is delayed until you hear the crowd explode into cheers, chanting Hakim’s name just as they did upon begging for his return. You manage to make eye contact with him as tears begin to form and you blow him a kiss, the people around you are baffled by the weirdly intimate gesture. It all becomes clear as the giant monitors display the cameras which are all focussed on one player. Hakim makes eye contact with you to the best of his ability as he kisses his wedding ring and forms a heart with his hands. Hakim’s mother nudges your shoulder teasingly as you hide your face in your hands while the crowd relish a short glimpse into your love for each other. He can't hold in his excitement. And to think that without your reassurance and encouragement, he may not have even come. 

Once the final whistle is finally blown, the players are all immediately rushing to their families. Morocco have finally made it to the knockout stages, all while topping group F. 

Hakim can't wait until everyone has left, as he’s bursting with excitement. So, he jumps the barrier, making a beeline to hug his mum and then you in the tightest, most comfortable embrace. the crowd erupting into cheers at the sweetness of it all. Neither of you care about the cameras that have managed to capture the moment of intimacy you both shared. It's nothing unusual for the two of you from the glimpses Hakim shares into your relationship online. Its very clear that the two of you are made for each other. You feel your shoulder is slightly damp as the pair of you soak in the glorious moment.

“Everything okay, my love?” you whisper, a hand rubbing circles on his back.

“Just glad that I'm back.” you both laugh quietly, you can vaguely hear his friends whoop and cheer from the field and you swear you can hear Yassine thanking you for joining in with the pestering and you roll your eyes playfully. He reluctantly lets go, pressing a kiss to your cheek before making his way back to the bunker.

The journey back home in the taxi is in a comfortable silence, the smiles haven’t left your faces. Your hands are intertwined and your head is resting on his shoulder. 

The second you open the door to the hotel room, he kicks his shoes off and flops onto the bed dramatically. You snicker at his antics as you open the suitcases, looking for a shirt to sleep in. As you retrieve it, you look up to notice that hakim has already curled up under the blankets, scrolling through his phone at the edits he can't wait to show you. You quickly change as you jump in with him. His arms are immediately wrapped around your body, pulling you flush against him.

"People are quick with these huh?" you say, dumbfounded as you go through edit after edit. people have found and stitched old videos of you together, interviews, voiceovers from things he's said, photos from his instagram and you honestly commend the effort. Even you had forgotten about some of these, slightly embarrassed at how obvious the two of you were making the relationship. You at least remembered why the secret relationship was revealed so quickly.

"To say the least, it's only been a couple of hours!" you laugh as you continue to look through the hashtag people have created for you.

You grow bored of this so you put your phone back on the bedside table and turn to Hakim. You both admire each other for a second, gently tracing the other's features in silent admiration. The look he was giving you had your heart beating quickly, even after all this time. The softness they held made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Those edits really aren't that far off on the effect he has on you, as much as you hate to admit.

“Thank you all for pestering me so much about coming back.”

“It's what we’re here to do” you laugh quietly together before calling it a night and falling into a peaceful slumber wrapped in each other's arms.

idk how i feel about this one but i hope you enjoy anyway, my loves xx

[monstercampus]

Yessss I loved the werewolf gangbang so much <3 do you think now that we've fucked the entire team, the Balrog coach would be impressed? At least a little bit? Enough for some deepthroating? Or just some sloppy kisses if he's too big to get completely in there? 👉👈 🥺

oh of course >:)

(cws: balrog coach, demon/human, gn!student, dramatic size kink, lewd photos + sex tapes, fingering, limit breaking, mention of drugs/monster pills)

wc: under 1k

It might take a little while, but word will spread around the team. They'll chuckle and murmur amongst themselves in the locker room after practices, reminiscing on the cute, pretty human they got to absolutely decimate into submission. They share the photos and videos with each other but tuck their phones away when someone else comes in--but that only lasts for as long as it takes for one of them to accidentally leave theirs on the bench, right out in the open and unlocked for their coach to happen upon when he's doing a sweep after they've all gone home.

He just plucks it off the bench with one of those massive hands that makes the device look like a matchbox, casually flicks the screen up to see which of his boys it belong to, and bam--there's a picture of you pulled up in his gallery, hot and glossy-eyed and stuck like glue on a fat werewolf knot.

And it's not just that he recognizes you, or that you look so fucking enchanting in your obvious state of bliss, it's also the fact that he can hear a bathroom door swinging closed and a soft humming as the taps squeak and someone washes their hands in the next room. That's what has him erect in moments, the scent of you making his cock twitch like mad and strain a deep curve in his pants that he doesn't even try to conceal--because let's be honest, you've shown interest and you're clearly so sexually loose that you'll probably want to emulate those scenes captured on this phone with him. And he won't stop you if you do.

It doesn't even occur to him how tiny you really are until you're knelt between his legs, pawing at his cock under his shorts and smushing those soft lips against the curved tip. You're trying so hard but you just can't fit, you can't even open wide enough to get the tip in your mouth without breaking your jaw. How sweet. He's at least willing to commend your effort, if not by giving you what you want in the moment then lifting you up off the ground and pushing his hand down your shorts. The way you squirm has him growing even harder, even hotter, his fingers barely fit inside you but it's no longer a good enough reason for him to spurn you, even for fear that he'll split you in half. He saw a glimpse of what you could do, and you cum so easily--two or three times just standing there, getting stretched open on his fingers that must feel like cocks to someone as tight as you. You get so slippery that you might fit, he has to find out if you fit, so your shorts have to be torn off your body and you have to be picked up and held over his lap for him to finally find out.

Obviously he's a little mean. Murmuring about what the big deal is, how you're so pathetic when you whimper about him only pushing you down on the tip--but it makes you wetter, it makes you stupider, and he likes it so much his cock spasms again and you slide down further all on your own. He can tell by then you can't get much deeper than that, even though he's only fed a few inches inside and you're only warming about a third of his cock overall. It's cute that you can't stop cumming though, your precious body growing tighter at the intrusion and your legs shaking as they dangle uselessly off the floor. Maybe he'll have to swipe one of those pills from the Dean's office to help you with his size, because you've shown you can do all the work, no? You're just too small and cute to take it like a demon would...and his mind runs wild with thoughts about fucking you properly, of claiming you like he would a pitiful demon that he wanted to breed with.

You've got a long way to go from here to there, considering you're practically mindbroken just listlessly swivelling your hips, trying hopelessly to fuck something that's just too big for you. You can't even stand a touch from him, each stroke of his blazingly hot fingers between your legs makes you jerk and cry out and cum harder around what little amount of cock you can sit on. But maybe once he cums, your body will drink in that demonic seed and you'll understand your place. Even if he has to use you like a too-tight fleshlight, and wrench you off with one hand to jerk himself to his end all over your face, he'll get you a taste of what you've been missing so it'll get you hooked--and hell, maybe he'll even get to hear you seducing the Dean in a pathetically horny attempt to get those coveted pills....which would be quite the convenient way for you to find out just how good they work, and how far your body could really stretch if given the chance. And when you're done, and he kisses you so warm and deep that you're practically choking on his tongue, you can come crawling back to try and take him whenever you want. Pills or no pills--he can always try to stretch you out the old-fashioned way, and he's sure his wolf pack would adore helping you along.

[niemernuet]

Franaud - an introduction

Sooo, the genius of @ticiie willed the pairing Franjo/Arnaud into existence and while on first glance I was a bit 🤨 I am now fully converted and convinced they are skiing's next power couple. They have similarities, for example their tragic pasts, and they have differences that make them a perfect fit for each other. Because I have nothing better to do (I do but my hyperfixation doesn't let me...) I wanted to do a short introduction on both of them (it's just an excuse to post a few pictures).

First, there's Franjo

He is the blueprint of an average Swiss zoomer from the boonies, in the picture above visible by his stance. Born in 2001, he lives in a constant traffic jam in Boltigen (the town is on the only road to some of Berne's biggest ski places and is basically backed up with cars from Dezember-March). He loves speed in every form, not just on skis but also on motorbikes and in cars.

Because he is from the Canton of Berne and specialised in downhill he is hailed as the heir of Beat Feuz. With his third place in the second race in Garmisch in the past season he did nothing to mitigate these hopes. He was on the podium with Odi, and like Marco he is genial and easy-going and loves a good time with friends. But he has something not even Odi has: a drink of his own.

He almost had to give up racing though because his father died when Franjo was just 17 and in the middle of his apprenticeship as carpenter. Thanks to a crowd-funding however he managed to get enough money to keep going.

Btw I swear I read in an article that his name his an amalgamation of Franz-Josef but for the life of me I can't find it anymore.

On to Arnaud:

He is from Martigny in the French-speaking part of Switzerland and has the most charming accent when he speaks German or English. (also I listened to a radio interview and he could seriously work as the guy who speaks the dialogues on tape for students learning French; he's very easy to listen to) He joined the world cup for the first time in the past season together with Franjo. Unlike Franjo, however, he is already in his mid-twenties (only one year younger than Odi). The reason it took him a bit longer to get into the big league is that he was fate's punching bag for the past few years.

He showed passable results in the European Cup before the pandemic (this one's from the last season but there's Gilles too, so I was powerless) and was allowed to compete in the team try-outs for Wengen 2020. Back then, Lars Rösti (who lives not far away from Franjo) was the reigning youth world champion in downhill. Arnaud beat him in practice but despite his results, the coaches chose Rösti for the last starting place in Wengen. This threw big waves, especially in Valais where people (probably a teeny bit rightfully) assumed that head coach Stauffer, like Rösti and Franjo from Canton of Berne, had shown preferential treatment. Arnaud was promised a start at one of the remaining downhills that season but only one week later, he broke his knee in the European Cup and was out for the season.

(Small parenthesis: Judging by his social media he is a more talented hustler than Franjo whose charm is more...rustic. Here he is listening to one of his sponsors while having very petable hair.)

Once his knee was okay again, he broke his arm, and was out another season. He returned in 2022 and won that season's European Cup in Super-G, which meant he had a fixed place for the past season and no chance to lose it anymore. He was not nominated for Beaver Creek and the first downhill in Val Gardena. Because he won points in his very first Super-G in the World Cup though, he was finally allowed to start in dh too, and the rest is history. He won his first podium only a few weeks after Franjo when he came third in the Super-G in Saalbach.

Btw, a little added shit-dollop to that shitty decision in Wengen: Back in 2020 his father was still alive. He died in 2022 though, and thus never saw his son race in the wc. In the interview I read Arnaud doesn't explicitly talk about that but he mentions that he was very hurt by the decision, and also mentioned his Dad in the post before his first start in the wc.

Why they are perfect for each other:

On first glance, it would be understandable if these two would be nothing more than co-workers. All that is missing from Franjo's entire existence being a pure cliché of a proud Swiss hick is a cow in his profile pic, while Arnaud is more...cerebral. He studied economics and works part-time in a bank over summer, and one of his best friends is Tanguy (that is Dartmouth alumnus and expert-straddler Tanguy Nef to you). Their characters, however complement each other and make them a perfect fit. They are both popular and well-liked by the people around them, and they are both funny as hell. Franjo's humor is more of the straight-forward kind, he's a happy-go-lucky man like Odi while Arnaud can be a downright sarcastic little shit (evidence).

In conclusion, I think there should be 173 fics about these two in all stages of relationship. Thank you for your attention.

[canarydarity]

at another place in time, II

(Or, I wrote that one small limited life session 1 ficlet from Tango's pov and went "what if I just write a whole series of vignettes from Tangos pov as the season comes out, one for each session," and now have to do that by law. so. welcome to session 2's chosen tango reminiscing vignette)

[part I]

____________________________________________

He stood on the outskirts and watched everyone gather around, and Tango thought, well this is different; maybe it was the rule changes—their timers all counted down, but 19 hours was still more promising than not. It felt wrong to quantify their lives this way, hard to connect that number to the idea of the amount of time he had left to live; right now, it felt arbitrary. Tango was sure that would change as the numbers got lower. Their actions were still dictated by color, but yellow could now attack green and—

Yeah, that was probably it. The first free-to-fight was beginning to act, and this bloodthirsty crew wanted to watch it happen. That didn’t mean Tango wasn’t a little thrown off by the sight of everyone gathered around, a crude ring marked out on the ground. They all cursed the games when they ended, took time to recover from the violence they witnessed—but they forgot that it was violence they cheered for whilst they were playing; or, maybe they didn’t, and that was the problem; the part they struggled to absolve. 

Maybe it was why they all signed up again and again. 

He tuned out Bdubs explaining his rules, focused instead on searching who had shown up. He wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, he just thought he should take the opportunity to get a closer look at the teams that had formed while he had the chance. 

Tango had somehow ended up directly across the ring from the rest of TIES, Etho finishing up flattening out a somewhat-decent circular border, Impulse standing behind Skizz, acting every bit in his corner, patting him on the back and giving all the encouragement a good coach would. 

Scar was whispering to Cleo who had a hand to her forehead as if she were warding off a headache; Martyn and Scott looked properly judgemental and above all that was going on—surely they were too dignified for a fight so unrefined. He couldn’t see Pearl or Bigb, but last he’d heard they’d been taking their role as nosy neighbors far too seriously—if they were here, he was sure they were out of sight, giggling and whispering back and forth. 

He wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, but that just left—

“We’re all standing so close?”

He couldn't help the speed at which he turned his head, he really couldn’t. Tango logically knew Jimmy’s landing on this side of the circle was due to the direction of Bad Boy Mansion, but he’d take what he could get. Joel was further away, picking fights where he could and riling up Bdubs from behind and Martyn from the side. Tango hadn’t spotted Grian yet. Speaking of taking chances…

“Well, if anyone gets too close we’ll just punch ‘em.” He held his breath, but it didn’t take longer than a second for Jimmy to turn his head in Tango’s direction. He was already smiling by the time they made eye contact; Jimmy had a lotta smiles—this was the kind that predated his laugh. Tango decided to take that as a challenge. 

“Yeah, we’ll punch ‘em back in!” Jimmy said. “Just like in the movies.”

Tango nodded, “that’s right!”

“Keep fighting!” Jimmy added in a false voice he probably thought was gruff.

“Get in there and die!” Tango threw back; cruelty that was funny because it wasn’t real, the joke being that this was unlike their true temperament—settings-and-death-game be damned. 

Jimmy got it, he tilted his head back and—what success, because there it was—he laughed. Tango smiled wider and stared maybe just a little; he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sound. 

Such as with all things bright and lovely, there was a moment where that feeling—that light and feathered thing—threatened to break out of the cage in Tango’s chest, and he had to look down to wrestle it back under control. When looked back up, across the circle Etho’s eyes were heavy on his. He calmly slid his gaze to Jimmy and then back to Tango. 

Tango cleared his throat. Yup, that did the trick. He shuffled his feet, leaned his weight more to the right, and the distance it put between himself and that laugh was quantifiable in a way Tango felt much more than the numbers in his peripheral. 

Grain had shown up anyway, and the bad boys gravitated towards each other with an ease Tango reminded himself he wasn’t jealous of. He tried to tune back into the event, but the excitement had kind of dulled. 

“BDUBS! It’s you and me brother,” Skizz said, axe leveled in Bdubs’ direction. In a blink, Tango saw a different Skizz standing before him, weaponless and bare, my brothers left me to die. He didn’t dwell. Like he said, it was in a blink—one second there, the next gone; literally—he had the timer to prove it. 

“Yeah right It’s you and me, you want revenge? Here I am, on a silver platter!” Bdubs held his arms out wide, sword in one hand and shield in the other—the cockiest come at me that he could offer. He never knew when to quit, did he? Tango hoped Skizz put him on his ass. 

If not yet a harsh reminder of the time that he has left, the timer served the annoying purpose of counting the kind of seconds that ticked by in boredom. Every painstaking block in a build, every step he took on a long journey, every taunt Bdubs and Skizz sent back and forth that couldn’t be called anything but stalling; all of it cataloged and kept track of—it was the worst reminder that time doesn’t fly in the world (yet).

Tango was sure he’d change his mind about that later, but for now, he suppressed a groan and snuck another glance to the left. 

Grian was offering weak cheers and ripping a loaf of bread to shreds then tossing the pieces around like confetti—or rice at a wedding. The area surrounding their little group was littered with crumbs and chunks of the stuff, and Tango watched as it attracted a chicken, pecking at the ground near Jimmy's feet. When it ran out of readily available food, it started picking at his shoelaces, and Jimmy tried shooing it away with little success; every step back he took, the chicken followed. Tango laughed under his breath as he watched Jimmy wave his hands at the bird again and then look around frantically hoping no one had noticed. 

The crowd suddenly shouted in unison, calls of disappointment and boos radiating all over; the group mentality was also new—Tango knew that wouldn’t last either; once the fight ended, so would their new-found camaraderie. He turned back, but he’d missed whatever it was that had caused the outburst. 

In the quick moment of silence that had followed, Scott said, “Skizz, did you eat an apple?” 

Skizz was the only yellow name amongst them—the only one licensed to kill—and yet, Scott's question charged the crowd and made them every bit the audience above the colosseum, a thumbs down all that was needed to determine his friend's fate.  

Skizz gulped, “maybe…”

The booing began again in earnest, and Tango had never before been so glad for the rules that Grian set. 

“That’s nearly a cheat there!” Jimmy called out. He was an easy target, which Tango knew meant he was always fine-tuned to the things that might warrant being teased—cheating was one of them. A chance to put attention on someone else was always welcome. 

Skizz spun in the bad boy's direction, “how is that a cheat?” Grian raised an eyebrow at the display, but he said nothing; he only liked to play admin when he chose to, not when others thought he should—especially if it was solely for their own benefit. “There’s no rule about not eating golden apples!” 

Tango saw Jimmy’s eyes alight with it at the same time as he felt his own; accidentally or not, they made eye contact. Skizz was technically right, there were no rules about not eating golden apples—at least, not anymore. But he hadn’t been in double life. 

Tango remembered when there were. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night to a knock on their door, answering Jimmy’s worried Tango… by telling him to stay where he was. There’d been no one there, but there had been a golden apple sitting on their porch—someone's idea of some kind of joke that neither of them had found funny. 

He’d been so mad…it wasn’t until halfway through shoving his feet into his boots that he’d heard Jimmy call his name for what he was later told was the third time. 

What are you gonna walk around in the dark ‘til you find who put that there?

He had been willing to if that’s what it took. Somewhere deep down logically he’d known—just like Jimmy did—that he wasn’t going to find whoever had left it, but it wasn’t really about that. He thinks he gets it, now, that it’d been about proving something. 

Maybe if he’d done it then Jimmy wouldn’t have flushed and looked away today. 

Tango was vaguely aware that the rest of the group had moved on around him, that he and Jimmy were really the only ones who’d hesitated at the mention of the apple at all. 

He should’ve gone out anyway, walked around until the sun started coming up—hell, he should’ve started knocking on doors; at least that way, he wouldn’t have had to lay back down and have the conversation he hadn’t stopped thinking about since. 

He’d known there was something coming, and he’d waited Jimmy out patiently to hear the slow drawl of;

If it weren’t against the rules, would you…

It is against the rules, Tango had replied. The wrong answer, he thinks now. But he hadn’t known why they’d been having such a conversation; it was against the rules. Tango would tell Jimmy he was sure as many times as he needed, but he wasn’t going to allow for the kind of negative feedback loop that Jimmy used to punish himself.

But if it weren’t—

No. He hadn’t needed to see Jimmy’s eyes to know that he didn’t believe him. 

He wished he could tell Jimmy that believe it or not his answer still hasn’t changed. 

“Fights over.”

“Hmm?” Tango turned toward Etho—now apparently standing in front of him—but he didn’t quite make it all the way. The scene had changed around them; sometime in his musings, people had started clearing out. The once rowdy crowd had begun to disperse, blood spilled and attention span exhausted. 

“Fights over,” Etho repeated. 

Tango blinked. “Who won?”

But his friend just let out a small huff and started in the direction of home. Tango looked down and kicked a pebble with the toe of his boot. He spared only a glance to the left where the bad boys were heading back towards their own base, donning leather jackets that must be sweltering in the day's heat. He couldn’t hear them, but he could tell Joel was arguing with Jimmy over something from here, watched as Joel reached around and smacked Jimmy on the back of the head, Grian moseying along beside them not caring to intervene. He sighed. 

Tango turned after Etho.

[itsclydebitches]

Hey Clyde can you elaborate on the “No because…Ted was so deeply traumatized” GIF please?

Of course!

Obviously that's Tomlinfonda's post/argument, so I can only speak to my own interpretation of things, but basically it's acknowledging the tragic implications of our finale. Ted goes back to his son, but far more than that he isolates himself from everything and everyone else. It's all well and good to make headcanoned claims about his life in Kansas --"He's Ted Lasso. Of course he'll make a ton of new friends!" -- but based on what we're shown on screen, AKA the canon, Ted has rejected everything but his role as Henry's father.

He is no longer a premiere league coach, he's a kid's league coach for Henry.

He's no longer keeping some distance from Michelle post-divorce/post-dating Jacob for his own comfort and mental health, he's closely co-parenting with her for Henry.

He's not BFFs with Beard anymore, attending pivotal moments like his wedding, he's spending quality time with Henry.

He's no longer a part of the Richmond community or the Kansas community (we don't see Ted happily chatting with some extra at the game, an easy way to show that he's forming new bonds, nor has the series introduced Kansas friends he's still in contact with) he's a part of the Being Henry's Dad community.

I'm going to talk about this a lot more in the giant-ass meta I'm working on, but the tl;dr is that no one (that I've come across) is upset that Ted went back to Henry, only that the show implied that he gave up EVERYTHING ELSE to do that. Instead of having Henry come to London, or doing the work to make Kansas feel like a place Ted wants to be in for reasons other than this being where Henry currently lives, everything we get implies isolation and discomfort. No one is there to greet Ted at the airport (a sharp contrast to Rebecca tearfully seeing him off, previously begging him to stay). Michelle's house is a dull, sad-looking color pallet compared to the vibrancy of Richmond. She keeps literal distance from Ted, remaining in the doorway while Henry runs to his side and watching him walk in with arms crossed. We know he's not comfortable with her dating Jacob (quite understandably). Ted is not shown to attend ANY of the pivotal moments of his found family: wedding, book signing, giant get-together, despite having the time and financial means to do so. There are no more Diamond Dogs. There's no scene of him baking. No details to remind us of why he once loved his home state, like sunflowers and BBQ sauce. Ted can no longer challenge himself with the complexities coaching a premier team, despite having just come off of a brilliant season that involved re-inventing a whole new strategy. He's back to giving Season One advice of "Be a goldfish" - AKA just ignore what's bothering you, work to literally forget it, rather than engage with it as a means of self-improvement. It's a fine bit of advice for a missed goal, but in the context of his final line of the show? It reinforces the reading that Ted has regressed. Significantly.

"That's not true, Clyde, he's stopped running away from Henry now!" Ehhh has he? I mean yes, he's literally, physically there, but how healthy is that going to be for either of them in the long run if Ted hasn't addressed the root of his anxieties and, as Tomlinfonda's post says, has "killed every part of himself" that's not fatherhood? Ted was happy in London, thriving, right up until his mom unexpectedly arrived and gave him a massive guilt-trip about long-distance parenting. After three seasons of promoting, fighting for, and fully embracing non-traditional relationships, the series end with Ted panicking, going back to where he's "supposed" to be so that he can be the Mid-Western Nuclear Family Father™ that his mother expects. Why? Because Ted lost his own father and he's terrified of doing the same thing to Henry. I've even seen fans talking about how Ted has successfully broken a "cycle" by going home, but what the show and those fans both fail to realize is that living in another country and dying by suicide are not the same thing. Ted never "abandoned" Henry and we sure as hell can't equate him taking a long-distance job/moving permanently to somewhere he loves with his own father's death. If anything, this ending feels like the OPPOSITE of breaking that cycle to me. Moving between parents in two different countries, or moving permanently to London might hold a number of challenges for Henry (even though this is a show where characters frequently make huge life changes without any of the realistic consequences and I don't understand why these challenges are suddenly relevant now... ) but is that really worse than growing up with a father who, based on these last ten minutes, does not come across as happy to me? Who's presented as comparatively isolated? Who isn't shown engaging with anything that's not related to his son? Who may be back here in part due to outside pressure and his own, panicked assumptions? Who, according to what's shown on screen (remember, everything else is a heacanon) he has no identity now outside of his role as a father? I wish someone had ASKED Henry what he wants because despite the clear excitement about Ted coming home, this is a kid who is emotionally intelligent enough to realize what's been making his dad happy. No, you can't put that kind of decision-making pressure on a real child, but a fictional one in a trope-heavy show? Let Henry decide to move/continue long distance because more than wanting his dad beside him 24/7, he wants his dad to be happy.

Because... seriously. If we're worried about Ted potentially repeating the cycle of suicide, I'd say removing him from the support system he's slowly built over three years, denying him major connections with his friends, removing the intellectual challenges he loved, plopping him back in a state he's outgrown, keeping him close to an ex-wife and former marriage counselor now dating said ex-wife and a mother he's harboring a lot of anger towards, plus leaving us on the implication that he's backsliding by trying to ignore his problems instead of tackling them because, you know, he hasn't seen his therapist in months and all the people who know him well enough to challenge him are an ocean away... that's all a bit more concerning than an ending that says, "Ted needs to figure out how to parent Henry from London long-term" or "Ted needs to figure out how to integrate Henry and Michelle into his London life."

Parts of the fandom: Thank god Ted went back to Henry :) All he needs is his son :) He's improved so much in his mental health :) I'm so proud of him :)

Me: I've NEVER been more worried about Ted than I am now :/

It's an ending that says your child is the only thing that matters. Your friends, your career, your hobbies, what you need for your mental health... give all of it up despite, as the rest of the show argues, the fact that you don't have to. The problem is 100000% NOT that Ted ends the series with Henry. I wanted and fully expected them to reunite. But Ted reunites in a way that has him rejecting everything about himself that doesn't directly support his son, all of which is based off of -- imo highly inaccurate -- anxieties about what a "real" father looks like and the presumed fragility of kids. Ted rejects three years of growth and family because he fears that not doing everything that's easiest for Henry -- be there 24/7, don't make him move, don't complicate things with his mom, etc. -- will somehow make him feel the same way Ted feels after the death of his father. In reality, these situations are nothing alike, Ted is feeding the very anxieties he's been working to overcome, Henry has not displayed any significant difficulties with an unconventional family unit, and a happy, supported Ted would ALWAYS be a better father to Henry than one who feels trapped and isolated. The show could have easily given us a reunion while allowing Ted to keep all that he's built -- Rebecca lays out how that can happen right on screen! -- and instead the show chose to have Ted sacrifice everything but Henry when it's oh so clear he never had to.

Which yeah, feels tragic to me. Or at the very least incredibly bittersweet, with a huge emphasis on the bitter. There's nothing wrong with those endings, but it's not a conclusion that I think fit Ted Lasso's genre, or served the rest of the series well.

[islndgurl777]

Roy coaching Jamie in how to be a great player and also a great team member

Roy confronting Isaac with compassion and care and giving him good advice about how to handle his anger

Roy increasingly using tedisms this season

Roy using a personal anecdote during the press conference to meaningfully drive his point home.

I’ve been thinking a lot this last week about where Ted was before he came to Richmond. Obviously he was well-known, had a good reputation as a coach… What happened to the team he left behind?

I think he was working at the college level, which is a lot different from the pros mostly (I assume) because there’s the potential for a lot more turnover. That entire team is changing every four years max, so any familial bonds and love and true camaraderie created between team members is gone sooo quickly. “The Lasso way” is not going to work long for a team that, four years down the line, doesn’t know Ted Lasso and hasn’t been personally coached or influenced by him. At most he will have left another coach or two behind who worked alongside him, and I don’t know what turnover for college-level coaches is like, but I think it would still be very difficult for those one or two coaches to continue a legacy of such goodwill among a team with no personal stake in “the lasso way”. Therefore, I’m not sure these teams do well without him there in the long run.

Richmond though. They’re pros. These guys, barring serious injury, could be on this team for another decade or more. That is so much time for the team to cement itself together as a force for good in their world. Team members will trickle off as they get older and retire or get offers for insanely lucrative trades (though I think the culture of respect and love in the Richmond locker room makes transfers out incredibly unlikely; why would you leave a place you feel loved and valued?), and younger players will trickle in. I think the rate of this would be slow enough at the pro level for ted’s legacy of positivity and kindness to cement itself again in newer players who’ve never met him; the greyhounds value Ted’s lessons enough to pass them on to the newer players, and the number of players at any given time who participate in and see the value of this culture are able to, in turn, keep passing it on to the next newbies.

Which brings me back to Roy Kent. He’s invested in Richmond in a way Ted and Beard are not. He played on the team. He lives there. He has family and friends and love there.

Now not only is he coaching at Richmond, but he’s slowly taking all the parts of Ted that make him a great mentor and coach and he’s incorporating them into his own coaching style. He’s become a damn fine coach and mentor himself.

All this to say, this season has shown Ted being torn more and more between his job and his son, and we know if it comes down to a choice he’s going to choose Henry. This season has also shown that Ted has made a deep impact on the team, once that has the potential and likelihood of carrying on in the lives of these men and any new players for years to come. Top that off with damn fine coach Roy Kent sticking around Richmond for years to come? And I think the team will do alright without Ted.

[foranpo]

ੈ˚★ five times kyoutani found out about love.

synopsis: kyoutani wasn't very wise when it came to feelings, but thank god he had you to teach him a little more.

fandom: haikyuu.

character: kyoutani kentarou.

reader: gn!

genre: long-shot.

content: fluff, soft kyoutani.

word count: 3k.

cole's note: recycled post #yup (@.kashika/@.sam-writs). i am #1 kyoutani defender, bye.

 ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading <3 ──────

The first time was an impulsive act of yours.

Although you weren't the team's manager, your presence in training and games became something quite common and, as such, all the players and coaches were looking forward to your good mood and words of encouragement, whether during training, games or a simple meeting; the reality is that wherever the team went, you went too. In jest, many of them started calling you their mascot, an affectionate nickname that quickly made its way into the mouths of every member of the volleyball club, all of whom saw you as a younger member of that family in need of protection.

So, it was normal for you to be next to the coaches during training, your perception of that sport improving visibly and, as such, all your comments were welcomed by the various players and coaches. You did a great job cheering up the team; your good disposition and your incessant encouragement were part of your, all the players esteeming you and your effort –you really liked that little family and wanted to take care of them.

Now, as much as you told them not to work so hard, or to rest, and as much respect they had for you, the reality is that most of them didn't listen to you, especially Kyoutani Kentarou.

Kyoutani has always been a complicated boy for you, someone you couldn't get close to for nothing, the few words you exchanged being out of pure courtesy; that's why there wasn't a strong connection between you and him, your coexistence being only obligatory due to the club; however, Kyoutani was still part of the volleyball team and, as such, in a way, he was still important to you.

So it was almost instinctive for you to run to him in that practice, the headbutt he'd landed on the net post looking painful; your feet ran rapidly until you reached Kyoutani, your knees quickly finding the ground in such a violent and drastic way, your eyes searching for some visible wound on his forehead while your lips, almost in a cry of anguish, asked “Are you okay?”.

Kyoutani's reaction was no surprise: the absence of any gesture or word shown that he wasn't expecting you to come to his aid so worried; his eyes could not leave your delicate figure while your hands quickly found his face, searching minutely for any wound, any redness in his face; Kyoutani was static, without reaction, his lips wanting to say something, but without any result because, quite simply, Kyoutani Kentarou was not used to displays of affection.

But what really surprised him, what really made Kyoutani realize that it was something more than affection, was when you got closer and closer to him, your lips following an invisible path to his forehead, depositing a small, tender kiss that caught everyone off guard.

“What are you doing?” Kyoutani had finally uttered more than two mere words, the aggression in his voice trying in vain to camouflage the strong pink tone that grew at an extreme speed on his cheeks.

And you just straightened up, your hands resting on your legs while a wide and strong smile shamelessly ripped your face as you repeated that phrase that you insisted on repeating to the other members, now only addressed to him:

“I’m kissing it better.”

The second time was pure coincidence.

Winter has always been a season that gave you constant struggles: the school uniform being too thin to withstand the cold, the incessant snowfall, the icy wind that cut your face, the constant evaluations at school, the long hours at the club; winter was a season of the year that never stopped challenging you.

And that day was no different.

You had stayed late at school, helping teachers and students prepare for the winter festival, a pile of tasks piling up with your breath, the end of your suffering coming with the first stars of the night.

It was late, you knew it was late, but you couldn't help but stop by the gym on the way home, the curiosity to know if you were alone taking care of your steps and dictating your path. You walked carefully, your feet afraid to step on the ground due to the heavy and thick layer of snow that covered it, the school lights illuminating so shyly and awkwardly your way to the gym; you warmed your hands close to your mouth, the scarf you wore was of little use when the strong wind insisted on laying it on the ground.

So it was a relief when you reached the gym, a small figure closing the building door after turning off all the lights.

“Are you the last one?” your smile was tender, delicate, embellished by the soft snowflakes that colored your hair; you stood in front of the gym, waiting for him to just close the door and come to you –hoping he would come to you.

“I stayed late,” it was rare to hear Kyoutani's voice; even though he had already stopped avoiding you, even though he now really listened to you as you spoke, he was still the same, distant and cold, not wanting anyone to approach him and not wanting to approach anyone –but that didn't make him any less important.

He took out the gym key and stuffed it awkwardly in his pants pocket, starting a path unknown to you, his footsteps trying to take him home; and you quickened your pace, running a little after Kyoutani, only slowing your speed when you finally caught up with him.

Silence settled between the two of you as the sounds of the city began to snuggle your footsteps into the icy snow.

Kyoutani was looking at you carefully, without you noticing that you were being the focus of his attention; your steps were toasted by the delicate sound of the snow, the strong lights of the city managing to obstruct for a moment the sweet and delicate stars that tried to show you the way; and you remained beside Kyoutani, a strong and true smile on your face, your hands incessantly fixing your scarf.

And he kept looking at you, not being able to understand what you were doing, or what you intended with that walk.

You intrigued Kyoutani, you were someone he just couldn't understand or unravel because you always seemed so genuine it seemed like a lie; so he couldn't help but think that you had secondary motives for your actions, especially when it came to him, because Kyoutani just couldn't believe that you really cared about him –he could only doubt you.

“What are you doing?” he stopped pacing and stared at you, confusion and doubt fully exposed on his rosy face from the cold.

You shrugged your shoulders, looked at the stars and let the icy night air scratch your throat when you so naturally and genuinely let words of affection and tenderness penetrate Kyoutani's heart:

“I’m walking you home.”

The third time was a courtesy of yours.

The exams before summer were always the most difficult; as such, there were several sessions scheduled by the club in an attempt to improve academic performance. The location always varied, no specific place to be claimed by you, the sessions always to be booked at the last minute; cafes or own houses, each day was different and, on that day, it was up to you to offer your house for a small study session.

It was an intense Saturday afternoon, surrounded by books and notes, discussions of topics and mutual help filling the living room of your house, food and drinks disappearing at a surprising speed. It was a productive afternoon, something quite rare with such an eccentric group, so the feeling of accomplishment was visible in your broad smile as you lazily said goodbye to your friends –after all, night was coming and the exams started early the following Monday.

You were at your door saying goodbye to the last boys, Iwaizumi and Kyoutani looking too tired to hear you properly, Oikawa being too noisy to hide his tiredness. And you could only smile; despite your extreme tiredness and your desire to close your eyes to get a good night's rest, you could only smile with Oikawa's eccentricity, Iwaizumi's hoarse words, Kyoutani's shy looks.

It was with a big smile on your face that you said your last goodbye to your colleagues, your words coming out in a slurred whisper when you asked them, with affection and kindness, to let you know when they got home –since it was already dark and the scenarios that could happen were infinite.

So, taken by your affectionate gesture, the boys went on their way, Oikawa and Iwaizumi texting you almost at the same time after ten minutes, Kyoutani still walking his long and lonely way home.

Kyoutani's mind wouldn't stop working.

Your kind request continued to resonate loudly in his mind, haunting him during the dark journey he took home; your sweet words continued to vibrate strongly in his mind, intrigued him even more with every step he took –after all, did you really want to know if he got home safe? It seemed impossible for Kyoutani someone wanting to care about his well-being, and the fact that that someone was you only made the whole scenario more unlikely. Therefore, it was only natural for Kyoutani to come home and throw his body onto the bed, totally ignoring your request, totally forgetting about his cell phone.

That is, until it started ringing.

Kyoutani was about to fall asleep when his cell phone started to vibrate loudly inside his backpack, a small melody coming up soon after; the boy got up from the bed a little reluctantly, all the tiredness he was saving for sleep dissipating from the moment he got up –and Kyoutani just wanted to sleep.

With short, uncertain steps, he approached the corner of the room, crouching down and taking out the cell phone where the bright colors of the screen played with each other, forming your name with some enthusiasm and joy.

And Kyoutani, quite confused, decided to answer.

“What are you doing? It's almost one in the morning,” Kyoutani sat on the floor in utter defeat, his free hand being placed behind his head as he let himself fall back, his back feeling the warm wood, his eyes closing with the tiredness.

You didn’t hold your reply for long.

Since he had left your house almost three hours ago that you waited patiently for his message, or for him to enter some social network and make his existence known; but Kyoutani had just gone to sleep and he didn't deign to answer, to make a small and simple gesture. The scenarios that had run through your head were countless and all violent, each worse than the last, Kyoutani's explosive nature being your main source of concern.

So when you heard his voice, so sleepy and slurred, you breathed a sigh of relief and let your body fall comfortably on your bed, your eyes closing as your lips, so slowly and lazily, replied to Kyoutani:

“I’m checking on you. You didn’t text me.”

The fourth time was a mistake of yours.

Monday mornings were always difficult for you; it was impossible to wake up early or on time on a Monday and, as such, your whole process of getting ready and getting your things for school was done in an extreme rush, your mind never being able to accurately process everything that was happening. Thus, on that particular morning, it was with great surprise that you sat down at your classroom desk on time, your hands rummaging through your suitcase and discovering a little mistake of yours.

Throughout the morning classes, you kept thinking about that mistake of yours, your mind trying to make excuses for what you did.

You were so confused, you couldn't remember the exact moment you screwed up; I mean, you perfectly remembered waking up ten minutes after the alarm, your uniform being so inhumanly dressed it was a wonder it looked good on you; your hair was combed with your fingers while your elbows pushed books and pencils into your backpack; after putting your lunch in your bag, you ran out of the house and got to the classroom on time. So… where did you go wrong?

The fateful lunch hour has arrived and with it the exposure of your mistake.

You sat at your table with a blank stare, while your backpack rested carefully on your legs, and after taking a deep breath, you decided to take your bento box and set it down on the table, a second box appearing inside your backpack.

You sighed.

Would you have to eat it all by yourself?

You started to hear little laughs in the room, your friends pointing out your mistake and offering to eat your second lunch –after all, your cooking was coveted by the entire school.

However, just as you looked up to confront the various requests, you saw a Kyoutani lost in the hallway, a small sandwich from the vending machine remaining intact inside the plastic in his hand; and you smiled.

“Kyoutani!”

Your call quickly caught his attention and as soon as he saw you smiling and calling out to him with your hand, he approached you with slow steps.

From the moment his feet stepped into your classroom, absolute silence was felt, all the students eating their lunch with unnecessary attention to Kyoutani, the boy feeling pressured by the people's shameless looks.

“What do you want?”

You just pointed to the empty chair in front of you and the second lunch box, your smile so wide and sincere it managed to infect Kyoutani for mere seconds. He held the chair and placed it next to you, his hands nervously holding the second box while a sweet and faint smile began to shyly appear on his face when Kyoutani heard your words:

“I made an extra lunch and I want to share it with you.”

The fifth time was constant.

Kyoutani knew you since the first year of high school. Although you didn't attend the same class, your paths crossed constantly in the halls and, later, in the volleyball club; as such, a small bond began to emerge between you, a tenuous and fragile bond that was held by you –until Kyoutani realized the four times you showed affection.

Kyoutani was never a boy of positive feelings, anger and disobedience constantly driving his actions, never questioning the side effects he could cause. Kyoutani never believed in love, or friendship, or anything else, because, quite simply, Kyoutani never thought he was capable of being loved.

But everything changed with you.

Your arrival in his life came wrapped in a thin paper of warmth, a fiery ball of affection exploding under the wrapping, the strong and positive emotions you provided Kyoutani being completely alien to him. It was all new to him, your small gestures managing to break down so incessantly the high, thick walls he had created over time. And Kyoutani didn't care at all; your vulgar effort touched him in a surprising way, your good and genuine nature managing to bring some clarity to Kyoutani's life.

And he could count how many times you showed him that he was important, that he was capable of being loved.

“Good morning!” your voice echoed down the hall as soon as you saw Kyoutani, your footsteps rushing towards him and stopping in front of him, a big and tender smile beautifying your face when, so excitedly, you said the same words again, this time just for him. “Good morning, Kyoutani.”

And that was when Kyoutani realized: seeing you so close to him, the repetition of your words being carried out in mere seconds, your smile being formed instantly, he realized.

“Five times,” he muttered those words under his breath, his mind taking him back to all the mornings you wished him a good morning, not a single day passing you by in those two years. You used to take some of your time to say hello to him every day for two years now, mere seconds of your day that, in a certain way and that he only now realized, made him happier.

And you smiled, realizing what he meant with those little words.

You thought it was obvious: Issei constantly thanking you for your little daily reminders, Shigeru not being able to have a good day without your sweet words; but you knew that with Kyoutani you had to give him more time, you had to be patient; you knew that eventually he would realize –and he finally did, the rosy color in his cheeks fooled no one.

So it was with great relief that you spoke before going to your classroom, your words hovering in the hallway and taking time to dissipate, wanting, above all, to deliver the message correctly to Kyoutani; your lips moved clearly, his smile expanding with every word:

“Love is in the little things, after all.”

 ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated <3 ─────

[acesofspadess]

Endless Love 6

a/n: sorry if I make you cry :) 2 more chapters after this

The Finale pt 1

Being the only one on Team Niall added a lot of pressure. You were sad that you were the only who made it on your team, but that just made you work even harder to win for Niall. 

You were singing twice tonight, one was a ballad, and one had to be uptempo. You knew Niall would pick out good songs for you.

You were sitting next to Niall and Carson to do a little segment. “Bleu, congratulations. You're a finalist on The Voice.” Carso congratulated with a smile. “What did it feel like when I called your name?”

You shook your head before you spoke. “I died, just a little. But only because I didn't think I would make it that far to begin with, and being told I was getting even further. It's just a surreal moment.”

“What do you remember about the blind auditions Niall, about her voice?” Niall looked at you before answering. “It was so unique, it was. And Bleu, self-admittedly, was very nervous.” you nodded in agreement. “But she's got one of those voices.The Elli Goulding, the Adam Levine. Those unmistakable voices when you hear it, you know exactly who it is. I was so lost in her voice that I almost forgot to press my button.”

You giggled a little as he had told you before. “It was something that you said, ‘there's an already made start in there’ and i think it was then i was like, ‘i guess he might onto somethin’.” he laughed with a sarcastic ‘thanks’ and you poked his shoulder. 

“And then you do ‘Someone You Loved’. When you sang that, I mean I think they really started to hear how special her voice was.” he directed towards Niall and you looked down with a small smile. “I just realised that this is the world she lives in; these kind of raspy, wanty songs that we continue  to pick.”

“So for your playoffs song you sang ‘Halo’, which I think you had had in mind for her?” he asked Niall. “That was actually one of the first songs I had in mind. And that was the best performance.” 

You put your hands against your face again and Niall poked your cheek through your fingers. “Are you gaining more confidence at this point?” Carson asked you. “I'd like to think that I am.” you spoke playing with your rings that laid against your tattooed fingers. “I just repeat what Niall said the first time i saw him which was, ‘i only get nervous when i don’t know what I’m doing.’” Niall chuckled a bit and Carson joined. “It really saved me though because I know that I know what I'm doing, I just get shy and nervous when it's all over and I'm done singing…”

“Because she never believes a thing we say.” Niall came in when you trailed off causing you to look at him in  false offence. “Heyy.” you pouted. “But that's what the show is about, and now we're in the Top 5 and she's the one to beat.” you shook your head at him unbelievingly. 

“I don't think anybody in our Top 5 has grown as much as you have.'' Carson told you honestly. You thanked him softly as he spoke up again. “So what do you do? What's left?”

“Tonight we're going to do Diamonds by Rihana. I feel like it's a type of song I haven't really shown off yet.”

I think this is a perfect song for Bleu because Bleu’s always wanted to have her little pop moment.

“We had to add some pop to our lives.” you giggle with arms outstretched in the rehearsal room. “And what better song than miss RiRi.” you laughed at him and he joined at your laughter. “So watch out. We're coming for ya.”

“Don't say that, they're gonna think I'm mean.”

“As mean as a teddy bear.” he laughed throwing his head back.

You talked for a little longer before he joked,

“As you would like to say. ‘We're gonna slay.” you laughed at his mockery of you. “We are gonna Slay.”

You practised a few more times with Niall coaching you through it. “Bleu Wilson everybody, Voice Finalist.” he announced to the band and shied away. ‘Oh hi,” you waved softly as they clapped.

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

You were standing at the back of the stage in darkness as the song started

Shine bright like a diamond

Shine bright like a diamond

The lights went up softly highlighting you

Find light in the beautiful sea, I choose to be happy

You and I, you and I, we're like diamonds in the sky

You're a shooting star I see, a vision of ecstasy

When you hold me, I'm alive, we're like diamonds in the sky

You walked forwards slowly down the ramp to make your way to the centre stage

I knew that we'd become one right away

Oh, right away

At first sight I felt the energy of sun rays

I saw the life inside your eyes

You held onto the last note as the back up singers came in

So shine bright, tonight, you and I

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

Eye to eye, so alive

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shining bright like a diamond

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shining bright like a diamond

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

You went back to singing on your own as you walked around the stage

Palms rise to the universe as we moonshine and molly

Feel the warmth, we'll never die, we're like diamonds in the sky

You're a shooting star I see, a vision of ecstasy

When you hold me, I'm alive, we're like diamonds in the sky

At first sight I felt the energy of sun rays

I saw the life inside your eyes

You lifted your hand in time with the lights display that made it look like shining diamonds were now surrounding you

So shine bright, tonight, you and I

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

Eye to eye, so alive

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shining bright like a diamond, yeah

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shining bright like a diamond

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

You and the beat slowed down a bit for the crescendo

Shine bright like a diamond

Shine bright like a diamond

So shine bright, tonight, you and I

The audience cheered again as reached your vocal climax again

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

Eye to eye, so alive

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shine bright like a diamond, oh-oh, yeah

Everyone stood up and cheered after you nailed your note

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Shine bright like a diamond (whoa)

Then it was just you and the piano

Shine bright like a diamond

We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky

The last notes played and you took a deep breath as Carson came over to you. “From team Niall, Bleu Wilson ladies and gentlemen!” you waved to some of the audience who were cheering for you and turned to Carson, “good job, really good job.” he told you and you thanked him with a head bow. 

“Alright, Chance, let's hear some thoughts from you. “Amazing performance Bleu, as per usual. You just have a very distinct tone of voice, but seeing you do something a little more pop reminds me that you are your own artist and I'm excited to see what stuff you come with, as in original works when the show is done.”

“Thank you Chance, Niall.” Carson moved on. Niall clapped for you over dramatically. “C’mon Bleu Wilson!” he screamed. “That is ridiculous.” you mouthed a ‘thank you’ as he kept talking. “Um you are a superstar, like it's incredible. There’s nothing you can't do. When I think of all the performances you've done and how wanty and tear jerking they've been. The fact that you wanted to do a pop song, this was the perfect song for you. You got to show the otherside of you. And again, I'm like Chance. I can't wait to hear what records you make. This- this is incredible, i'm so proud of you as an artist and as the person i've grown to know.”

You waved at the cameras as Carson shared the information on how to vote. You didn't see Niall get up so you walked down the stairs and hi fived some fans that held their hands out for you. When you looked back up, Niall was there and you fell into arms. He hugged you softly while telling you ‘great job’.

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

“I know i'm going to cry.” you were sitting with a note in your hand from a surprise sender. 

To my beautiful B,

You read the first line and knew who it was from.

I wanted to write you a letter to tell you how happy and proud of you i am. Youve taken the courage and tenacity to pursue your dreams in a way that I am in awe of. I will always remember the first time we met and the first time I heard you sing in person. How hard you worked to make a living out in the city and how everytime you sang you brought tears to peoples eyes. In a cool way of course. I am beyond blessed to be able to call you my best friend and I'm lucky to witness your exposure and confidence as you show the world what I’ve always seen in you. The band says they love you and they all promise to throw you a party when you win. 

All my love and respect,

H. xx 

“Jesus H. '' you wiped tears from your face as you folded up the note. “H is one of the people who has believed in me by himself. He's always been there as a mentor and as an idol, and most importantly my best friend. He was the only one there for me when I moved from Ireland and I could not possibly thank him enough. I always want to make him and the band proud and I think they are,” you laughed watery, “so that makes me happy.”

“H, this ones for you. Love you.”

~~~~~~~~~

You took a deep breath and strummed the first note of best friends song and you sank into the music.

Put a price on emotion

I'm looking for something to buy

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

I don't want to fight you

And I don't wanna sleep in the dirt

The audience cheered softly at the unexpected riff

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

Your stage background was a bunch of TVs which appeared to be broken. Some TVs then turned on showing different facial features.

Test of my patience

There's things that we'll never know

You sunshine, you temptress

My hand's at risk, I fold

Crisp trepidation

I'll try to shake this soon

Some TVs then played you singing with yourself

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

The audience cheered as you vocalised in the music break

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

You lifted your hands as the trumpets came in

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright

We'll be alright

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright 

You held onto the note as long as you could with a riff in the middle. You'd never heard the audience cheer louder.

We'll be alright

We'll be alright

As you played the last note you closed your eyes and did a whistle note to match the beginning background vocals

When you opened your eyes you saw that everyone in the room was standing. You watched Niall and Kelly wipe tears from their eyes and you wiped some of your own. 

Carson came next to you as you took the guitar off your shoulders and congratulated you. “Not a lot of time left, but Niall I know you must be proud.”

He shook his head with a smile. “B, I'm so proud of you. You've brought tears to peoples eyes. I'm so happy we chose that song to send you out before the votes. This is uh- that was a special moment for me. I won't be forgetting that one anytime soon, and I'm sure everyone in this room can agree. America! My girl has something special. You know it when you see it. Get on that app, or get online, do whatever you need to do and vote for my girl. She is incredible and she needs to win this.” You thanked him and sent kisses to the audience as you walked down the stairs and into Nialls waiting arms. “You girl?” you questioned knowing he would understand. “My girl.” he whispered back.

niallhoran posted to his story

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Niall Taglist:

@youcan-nolonger-run @ravenclawdirectioner

@luxiorchive @maeflowers653

[the-celluloid-correspondent]

Next Goal Wins Movie Review

Dutch coach Thomas Rongen attempts the nearly impossible task of turning the American Samoa soccer team from perennial losers into winners.

After years of delay, Taika Waititi’s latest film, Next Goal Wins, is finally having its wide release after its premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival in September, in which it received mixed reviews, just like Jojo Rabbit. But those reviews didn’t deter me as I enjoy Waititi’s unique comedic style with his meta commentary and humor. However, I am left disappointed with Next Goal Wins. Yes, it is an entertaining comedy primarily due to its classic underdog story and the ensemble's performance. Still, there is so much left to be desired as Next Goal Wins is an amalgamation of Waitit’s worst qualities as a filmmaker.  

As previously stated, I love Waititi’s comedic style, but here he and co-writer Iain Morris can’t help but throw in a joke every five seconds into the screenplay. These jokes ruin many serious scenes that would have been incredibly compelling if the jokes didn’t force themselves into the room.  Moreover, it becomes incredibly tiring to see the same five jokes being repeated over and over again. It was funny the first time, but after a while, it got old very quickly. It’s similar to the screaming Goats joke seen in Thor: Love and Thunder. Waititi needed to pull the reins back and allow the story to flow naturally. He has proven previously in Jojo Rabbit and in The Hunt for the Wilderpeople that he knows when to be serious in tone and not put in a joke. I am wondering where that person is right now. 

However, that is not the end of Next Goal Wins problems. The biggest problem that plagues this movie is its narrative focus. It’s a mash-up between the classic “fish-out-of-water” and “sports underdog”, that follows these narratives almost beat per beat. However, with these two story tropes, the narrative clashes as it can’t decide who to focus on. Thus causing the characters, their relationships, and their struggles to feel shallow and emotionally manipulative. If it had focused on one of the three points of view it introduces, the coach, the team, or their relationship, this feature would have been much more engaging and impactful. However, because it is a mix between these three, it movie never feels like it has a central focus. 

But the movie's biggest crime is that it’s acting a lot smarter than what it actually is. It states in the very beginning that it’s going to subvert the white savior trope that is common in many sports films. However, it falls right into the trope it sets to subvert because that is what happened in real life. When American Samoa brought in Thomas Rongan to coach their team, he changed their team forever in his single year. He gave them the guidance and knowledge they needed to change their team around, as well as providing him wisdom he desperately needed. Yet, the movie underscores his influence as all the team needed was to have fun to win in the movie.  This could have worked if the team was shown to be somewhat organized before Rongan’s arrival, but instead, they are shown as comically disorganized. Thus when they finally get the speech telling them to have “fun”, and they become an entirely different team, it's incredibly unearned. This could have worked if it had been properly set up like in Ted Lasso, where the team and the coach both needed each other to achieve their goals. That would have been more wholesome and closer to reality. 

With all of that stated, the movie is still very enjoyable and this is primarily due to the performances from the ensemble. Michael Fassbender breaks his dramatic and dark type casting in this oddball comedy. For the most part, his comedic timing works for me even though he does feel out of place at moments. But when it comes to the dramatic parts, he delivers the goods. Oscar Nightley does bring in some great comedic moments and has some great chemistry with the ensemble. However, the biggest standout was Kaimana playing Jaiyah Saelua, the first non-binary trans-woman on a FIFA team. She is the emotional heart of this film and should have been the movie's main focus as she has a very interesting conflict.  Her conflict is a very relevant one with trans athletes on whether they continue to take hormones to feel like themselves or stop taking hormones so they can continue to play the sport they love. It���s a fascinating conflict that I wish was explored more. This was a massive missed opportunity and is especially shocking coming from self-proclaimed gay icon, Taika Waititi. 

Overall, Next Goal Wins is an entertaining classic underdog tale that is heavily reliant on its feel-good story and the performance of the ensemble. But, this movie could have been so much better if there had been several more rewrites to help focus the script's narrative. As well as Taika recognizes that he needs to stop forcing humor into these stories and let them flow naturally again. He has proven it before and I know that he is better than this. Hopefully, with his next feature film, he will finally learn how to do his unique comedy right again. 

My Rating: C+