#football fucking football und so

[schnaf]

heute ist kein guter tag um über fußball nachzudenken. eher ein tag zum vergessen lol. aber damit eben doch wieder denkanstoß.

ich fragte mich in letzter zeit immer wieder.... warum ist es nicht so wie es früher war? ich supporte den verein immer noch, hab da immer noch die connection, das schon. aber... spieler. früher habe ich spieler gestannt. heute nicht mehr. und mir wirds immer wieder bewusst und dann guck ich mir unsere aktuellen spieler an und denk mir "hm joa ders ganz brauchbar" aber letztendlich stanne ich doch nicht, weil ichs nicht fühle.

und heute wurde mir sehr bewusst, warum. weil die aufm papier "ganz brauchbar" aussehen, aber dann.... stehen die aufm platz. punkt. ende. mehr nicht. dIE STEHEN DA RUM und sind so "uuuuh ein ball, wer geht da wohl hin, oooooh ich bin sehr gespannt" und keiner rührt sich auch nur n bisschen.

man kann spiele verlieren. oh junge, hätt ich n problem damit, würde ich woanders stannen. aber man kann halt auch spiele verlieren und trotzdem stolz rausgehen. aber nicht mit dieser mannschaft. das war schon letzte saison so, bis hin zum klassenerhalt nach abpfiff aka klassenerhalt dank h*ffenheim und jetzt? jetzt spielen die gegen ne mannschaft, die zwei klassen tiefer spielt........... und tun NIX.

also abgesehen dass die saison ein heidenspaß wird................

vor n paar jahren, als ich noch spieler stannte, war die mannschaft nicht gut. spielerisch gabs da nicht sooooooo viel zu holen. aber sie konnten kämpfen. sie hatten bock. sie konnten beißen. und dafür hab ich sie gestannt. heute? keinerlei stanmaterial.

[isalabells]

“Ich muss halt sagen, das hier ist Game of Thrones, das ist nicht Mia san mia. Das ist backstabbing, das ist intrigantisch, ein unglaublicher Dolch, den sie da in den Rücken gejagt haben.”

-------------------

“Ja, Machtdemonstration, Papa Hoeneß- Also, das hat ja wirklich was von Succession, das stimmt ja schon. Dass du halt den alten Patriarchen hast, der einfach partout nicht von der Macht lassen kann, weil seine ganzen Nachfolger einfach wirklich Idioten sind.”

[i4bellingham]

INSTAGRAM FILES: jude bellingham x reader x jamal musiala

SYNOPSIS: in which you and jude announce your break up and the events that soon follow after.

NOTES: please ignore the errors i made lol i freaking love doing social media au’s can you guys tell? 😍

twitter

yourusername

📍Bavaria, Germany

❤️ 💭 ↗️　　　　　 • •

Liked by alphonsodavies, jamalmusiala10 and others

yourusername froh, wieder zu hause zu sein ❤️ glad to be home again

tagged: jamalmusiala10

View all 2,456 comments

See translation

user1 YOU'RE BACK IN UR HOMETOWN !!!

user2 dortmund probably wasn't such a good place huh :/

alphonsodavies you should visit us at allianz arena soon!

yourusername will do phonzy!

user3 hasn't she just broken up with jude last month? 😟

user4 lmao she's been friends with musiala way before she even met jude 🤣

jamalmusiala10 lass uns bald mit den anderen losziehen ❤️ let's go out with the others soon

yourusername ja, lasst uns! yes, let's

user5 what on earth is happening 🙁

　

jamalmusiala10

❤️ 💭 ↗️ 　　　　　 • •

Liked by jobebellingham and 986,567 others

jamalmusiala10 herzlichen glückwunsch zum geburtstag an meinen seelenverwandten. du hast das grösste herz und die grösste liebe für jeden, aber es ist eine schande, dass nicht jeder das schätzt und sieht. denk immer daran, dass ich für dich da bin. ich liebe dich, nochmals herzlichen glückwunsch zum geburtstag ❤️ happy birthday to my soulmate. you have the biggest heart and love for everyone, but it's a shame that not everyone appreciates and sees that. always remember that i am here for you. i love you, happy birthday again.

tagged: yourusername

View all 5,729 comments

See translation

yourusername danke, bambi. ich habe großes glück, dich als freundin zu haben. cih leibe dich ❤️ thank you, bambi. i’m very lucky to have you as a friend. i love you

user1 JAMAL CALLED HER HIS SOULMATE AGAIN 😭❤️❤️

user2 atp i think we can say miss girl dated the wrong football player 😭😭

user3 he stopped calling her that (& vice versa) when she was still dating jude omfg my heart

user4 y/n l/n, through the eyes of jamal musiala 🥺

yourfriend lass uns bald zusammen essen gehen! let's have dinner together soon

　

footballwrld_ig

❤️ 💭 ↗️

Liked by yourfriend, bvbfangirl87 and others

footballwrld_ig What do you guys think? 🤔🤔🤔

Also follow us for more football-related updates, news and gossips!

View all 9,860 comments

user1 lmfao that's literally jude and y/n

user2 jude cheated? 😟🙁

user3 man i used to root for them to last too ://

yourfriend just shows you can’t trust most guys these days 😐

❤️ liked by footballwrld_ig

user4 that's so hypocritical of the girl lmaoooo 🤣🤣🤣 miss girl be upset that her famous and well loved man is cozying up with diff girls when she's out there flaunting her flirty ass relationship with her bsf 🤣🤣

user5 you're so fucking stupid harvard’s knocking at your door.

user6 the difference is that j*de did it while he was still in a fucking relationship. y/n on the other hand had been best friends with musiala since they were kids and continues to be the best of friends until now. if she decides to start a relationship with him why not? she's known him longer than she's ever known jude and truthfully, musiala acts more of a decent boyfriend than j*de ever was to her 😐

user7 user6 slay bestie. roast that fatherless bitch

　　　

yourusername

❤️ 💭 ↗️

Liked by hekitike, alejandrobalde and others

yourusername and i still ride with my day one ❤️

tagged: jamalmusiala10

View all 2,095 comments

user1 that caption though 😍

user2 date night 🙊

yourfriend looking stunning my love ! 😍💋

yourusername i miss you! we should get that dinner soon when you're back!

user3 after their breakup went viral more football players started following her oh my lord 🤭

jamalmusiala10 ❤️❤️❤️

user4 WAIT ARE Y'ALL TOGETHER OR WHAT ?????

user5 lmfao u forgot jude that easily? 🤣

user6 it's been 7 months bestie move the fuck on

yourmom beautiful 😍

yourfriend2 the audacity to have to look this beautiful 😩

[mommymccabe]

You could write about how nervous Steph was when she found out that she was captaining Australia at the WC because of sam’s Injury, you telling her that she’s gonna be great and so on and then she’s scoring the pen and is running to where you’re sitting to celebrate with you und just cute after the game how proud you are of her and so on🙈

Pairing: Steph Catley x reader

Words: 750+

Warnings: nothing rlly, little swearing

______________________________

Steph was called to a meeting room within camp as the rest of us sat around the general room doing whatever. You were sat on beanbags in a circle with Caitlin, Mckenzie and Alannah as you switched between making tik toks and talking about whatever.

The sound of the door opening rather harshly forced your attention away from the girls and towards the door, where a tense a nervous looking Steph stood, eyes searching the room for something.

‘Baby? you okay?’ You asked as she finally made eye contact with you. A calmer, relieved feeling visibly washed over her at seeing you and she immediately walked towards you and sat herself in your lap.

‘Yeah. I’m okay’ she whispers to you.

In response you rub her back and lean up to kiss her head.

‘You sure? you looked pretty scared before’ you pushed.

‘I’ll tell you about it at home, not now please’ she whispered again.

‘Okay darling’ you whispered back.

After some more sitting around and talking with your team, Tony said everyone was free to head home or whatever so you and Steph hugged everyone goodbye and made your way home.

As soon as we walked in the door, Steph pulled you into a tight hug and laid her head in your neck.

‘Seriously baby, what’s going on?’ you asked worriedly.

‘I’m captain. Sam can’t play because of her injury. I’m really nervous, I don’t know if i’ll be a good captain. What if i let everyone down?’ she nearly cries.

‘Oh darling, don’t ever doubt yourself. You’ve proved over and over just how amazing you are on and off the pitch. You’ve done this before, you can do it again love. I’m so proud of you, you’re captain!’ you hugged her tighter and jumped up and down.

Steph just giggled at you, your words having soothed most of her worries and finally allowing her to be excited.

‘I’m captainnnn’ she said and jumps around in circles.

You laugh at her and pull her into your arms and fall back onto the couch.

‘I’m so proud of you darling’

‘Thanks puddin’, I love you’ she mumbled into your chest.

______________________________

It’s the first group game of the Women’s World Cup for the Matildas. The score was 0-0 until Hayley had been taken out in the box. Penalty. This is their chance. You watched from the bench as Steph stepped up to take the shot. You prayed in your head that she had luck on her side. You knew she had the skill but any amount of things can go wrong in a football game.

You hear the whistle blow, see Steph run up to the ball. You watch almost in slow motion as the ball flies through to air and into the back of the net.

As soon as you register it’s gone in, you’re up and celebrating with the rest of the squad. You quickly turn around to the crowd and scream ‘That’s my girl!’ before turning back to your teammates. Next thing you know Steph is running at you full force. You hold your arms out for her and lift her up in the air as soon as you made contact.

‘You did it baby! You fucking scored!’ you yelled out overjoyed

Steph throw her head back and laughs at you as you put her down. Ignoring the rest of your team around you, you pull her into a quick kiss and tell her how proud you are of her.

‘You’re amazing Steph Catley. I’m so so proud of you love’

Steph, on the verge of tears from your words, pulls you into her again and whispers

‘Thank you baby, having you here has helped me so much. I love you puddin’ she says

‘I’m always going to be there to support you, you’re my girl. I love you so much Steph.’ you say as you hug her tighter.

You let her go and celebrate with the team and watch from a distance with a smile on your face.

______________________________

They won, and Steph’s goal is the reason they won. As soon as the game and celebrations were over and you were back in the change rooms, you pulled Steph onto your lap and whispered

‘I knew you could do it. You did amazing baby. See? No reason to be nervous, you smashed it love’ before pulling her into a kiss.

‘We smashed it, I couldn’t have done it without you darling. Thank you for being my number one fan, my girl’ Steph said while holding your face in her hands.

‘Always and forever, love’ you smiled at her.

_______________________________

an: ty for the request xx

[shat-on-the-dick]

So I was rereading Beautiful Carnage last night and it got me thinking about what Pauline and Reiner’s lore would be if they were in a Modern AU. 😼 (I live for their chemistry)

HI HI!!! TY FOR THE ASK AND FOR REREADING THE FIC!!! I have so many scenarios and HCS for them in a modern AU, ty for the ask again!!

In a modern AU, I always think about them in college, so I'll go with that. I imagine Reiner and Pauline meet after he transfers from his previous university to Paradis, due to mental health issues. He was the quarterback for the football team there (I literally know nothing about football, it's just a common HC that I adopted JDJSHS plus he's a player in the school castes universe so).

In his previous college, he was much like his soldier persona, smug, cool looking, everybody looked up to him, everyone wanted to be with him (we stan a bisexual king), he had a scholarship due to his role in the team, good grades, confident, handsome and generally seemed very well put together.

Tho, we all know even in canonverse that he kept his true feelings hidden under this persona, and it eventually cracked in this AU as well. He came from a low-income family (Karina raised him all alone, after all, after the fucker of his father left them), so he had to keep his good grades and his good performance in the team to keep the scholarship. Plus, Karina (like in canonverse) pushed him towards this constructed persona without caring for his true feelings and wishes. Tho, in this version, I imagine Karina didn't want to reunite with his father but rather, wanted Reiner TO BE like his father, even tho Reiner is much more sensitive and caring by nature. I imagine his father used to be this macho type, boisterous, hypermasculine and toxic af. So Reiner wanted his mother to like him more, so he adopted into his persona what he thought would make his mother care more for him.

ANYWAY, going back, his persona cracked after so much time shoving away his true wishes and personality. His grades plummeted and his performance as well, making him lose the scholarship, and you can imagine how good his relationship with his mom became. Depression and anxiety took over. He transfered to Paradis uni to start over from scratch, new people that didn't know him and thus didn't have any expectation of him. Also, I imagine he studies Business administration or physical education.

Enter Pauline: she's the class representative and studies Psychology. She is friends with Mikasa, Armin, Jean and the whole crew, apart from Eren. Eren is her toxic ex-bf (it's a divergence from canonverse, she and Eren didn't have anything there and they were just friends and colleagues).

Eren at some point WAS good for her, building up her confidence and helping her say "fuck it" to her parents who were always travelling for work and left her alone her entire life. At some point, he became toxic and began deconstructing every good trait she had developed, breaking down her confidence, her relationships with other people and her independence. They broke up, but Eren won't leave her alone, even tho there is no chance they get back together.

Anyway, Pauline is calm and collected like in canonverse, she cares deeply for other people (hence studying Psychology and bring class representative) but she's not very easy to approach, since she is really serious, at least in this environment. Other times, she's a party animal, horny on main and has a broken humor.

They meet when Pauline finds Reiner on his first week beginning to have a panic attack, new environment, people and fear or blowing everything up again. Pauline calms him down, and buys him a coffee. Reiner is embarrassed but grateful, he takes her number with the excuse to buy her a coffee in return.

Reiner starts playing for the Paradis football team, Pauline introduces him to everyone, and everyone warms up to him pretty quickly. Reiner sees Pauline as a really cool, interesting and intelligent girl, that hides her warmth under a nonchalant persona. Pauline sees Reiner as a kind and caring guy, really intelligent and capable, even tho he's had it rough. Reiner feels he can be himself with her, like she can with him.

Drama sparks when Eren sees them getting close and starts to bother Pauline even more so, and Historia has her eyes on Reiner, her being the queen bee, so she has to have the new handsome nice guy.

They kiss for the first time when Eren ruins a party for Pauline, she goes out crying and Reiner follows, he drives them far away in his truck and they spend the night, drinking, watching the stars and talking about everything and anything, until they finally kiss.

OOOOF THAT WAS A LOT. No titans, no war, so no betrayal and everything, but their personalities are the same from canonverse, just their relationship that starts off in a better note and doesn't have so many comings and goings.

TY SO MUCH FOR THE ASK AND IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE, ID LOVE TALKING ABT THEM!!!!

Didn't give much background about modern AU Pauline, but if you are interested, I can give more details!

[noandnooneelse]

btw we're currently losing so horribly at football they reported it in the evening news. 0-2 steht's grad - für die türkei natürlich! which is so fucking funny because we won a thing in the last round of matches. and then we immediately started with the hubris. wir ham uns schon im finale gesehen! which is somewhat stupid, because we're notoriously fucking terrible at football, und dann ham wir einmal was gwonnen und führen uns so auf! naja, nach dem hochmut kommt der fall! congrats to turkey!

[loveyouhomex]

Rules: go through your last 5 fics and share the first and last line. No context.

@schnaf tagged me - dankeschön ✨

Moods

First: Bea had told him before that Henry sometimes gets into these moods, where he vanishes into his mind for hours or days, not talking, barely eating, hardly existing.

Last: “Thank god, I thought I was gonna be homeless,” Alex breathes out dramatically, followed by a squeak he’s too late to conceal, when Henry pokes him in the ribs.

Lights out and away we go

First: The sun is hidden behind an ever gray sky when Bojan drives up the last few meters to the parking lot in front of the factory in Brackley.

Last: Yeah, maybe trying could actually be good.

It kills me just the same

First: Es ist spät, als Adam den Wagen über den Kies manövriert und vorm Haus zum Stehen bringt.

Last: Sein Leben, in dem es Leo gibt und in dem Leo ihn küsst und hält und “Gute Nacht, Tiger” ins Ohr flüstert.

Let me start a riot

First: The sound of heavy raindrops should be drowned out completely by the noise coming from the garages and the crowd, yet somehow Sebastian can still hear it perfectly well from where he’s sitting.

Last: "Ugh, fuck."

We call it football here, sweetheart (current WIP)

First: Alex has never been good at statistics, he’s got Nora for that after all, but when he steps out of his apartment into the fifth rainy day in a row he’s fairly certain that all those numbers about British summer are true.

Last (so far): There might or mightn’t have been comments from Nora and June but Alex simply let them wash over him without getting into that conversation.

I loved this! I unfortunately have no idea who of my mutuals is still writing, so if you are please feel tagged ❤️

[caltropspress]

DEBRIEFING: 5 August 2023 | Brooklyn, NY | The Nursery at Public Records

Armand Hammer’s We Buy Diabetic Test Strips Pop Up Party, featuring Fatboi Sharif, Cavalier, and DJ Haram

On the helix approaching the Lincoln Tunnel I saw a Virginia plate that read PHUNKE—its occupants seemed anything but, but who am I to judge? Not since I saw EGO DETH on a Volkswagen Kombi in the artificial light of the Holland while driving in to see woods’ Church release show at Baby’s All Right in early June have I taken a license plate as a sign. Fred Moten writes that “the sign works its terrible magic precisely from within a radical non-isolation,” but it’s a bit too early in the everyday struggle for theory, wouldn’t you agree? What I’m focused on is the WE BUY DIABETIC TEST STRIPS signs plastered over walls and poles. A sight as common in NYC as POST NO BILLS and CA$H FOR CAR$. We close our eyes to these signs, oblivious to their ubiquity. We’ve become blind to them. But I saw the sign with “Armand Hammer” appended to it, and it opened up my eyes. Life is demanding without understanding. So I overstand the signs and signals sent through wires and cables when I dial 1-877-ARM-N-HMR. I focus. I fixate. I study Alexander Richter’s photograph from the forthcoming album of a lamppost covered in taped and torn flyers. The edges fray and flicker in city winds. Looks like the tendons and flesh rotting from the bones of Death in Hans Baldung Griend’s Der Tod und das Mädchen (1517) painting. Looks like some real litter-ature. Gathering on August 5th, just six days shy of hip-hop’s much-heralded 50th anniversary, I think of hip-hop flyers of the past, specifically Kool Herc’s Back to School Jam at 1520 Sedgwick. But MC Debbie D—a flyerologist of the highest order—tells us that the index card flyer is a phony, a fake, a fugazi replica, a forgery. Fifty years into this thing and we’re still searching for authentic experiences. Fifty people at a rap show and one’s an informant. I’m here to inform on what felt—brain to bone—like an authentic experience.

3PM in the sun. I lined up with the other RSVPs (the show was free, in every sense of the word) outside the venue. Summer summer summertime. Fresh Prince via Juice shit. The temp on my dash read 90°. Kids walked down Butler Street mantled with beach towels from the Douglass and DeGraw Pool. Spotted lanternflies dive-bombed my legs. Thank god I lotioned my pale neck. When the powers-that-be finally allowed us entry, the musk of maryjane and malignant body odor was thick. Now I knew (it hit me in the fucking face) what that PHUNKE license plate was all about. “Funk,” from the French dialectal funkière: “to blow smoke on.” I’m not complaining, though—it was a communal fumigation. We were funky technicians, one and all.

“The Nursery” that Public Records has built falls somewhere between greenhouse and Zen garden. The square space is essentially an urban enclosure where pine and plane trees and fresh lumber create a private performance patio, a paradise just beyond the concertina wire, as woods might say. The stage is bedecked with potted cacti, while I spied A. Richter across the way with his Fujifilm GA645Zi amongst the bamboo stalks. ELUCID’s green Champion mesh football jersey (the Bo Jackson jersey in the laundry, apparently) matched the soundsystem monitors, and I found what little shade there was to be had and huddled close to the soundman’s booth, a shed of glass. I almost managed to forget I was cordoned off by beige shipping containers. 

It wasn’t long before I was entertaining the idea of going full Fatboi Sharif, i.e., shirtless. Sharif himself only made it through half his set before shedding his garb—there wasn’t even a hospital gown in sight. The heat was on as soon as he came out to Can Ox’s “Scream Phoenix”—rising from flames. El-P’s Phillip Glass sample could’ve easily made a Sharif beat (we’re only talking a single generation removal, really). Sharif made quick work of some of his most recent altered realities. “Static Vision” included a call [I ain’t scared!] and response [Motherfucker, I ain’t scared!]. He ran through “Phantasm,” “Dimethyltryptamine,” “Designer Drugs,” “Think Pieces,” and “The Christening” like a buxom blonde through an abandoned building, revving chainsaw in pursuit. At times, his speech slurred into a makeshift Swahili (word to This Heat). It was strange to see Sharif in daylight, sunstruck, as I’m so used to seeing him in blood-flooded cellars or Joseph Conrad’s heart of darkness environs, like he alludes to on “Dimethyltryptamine.” He barreled through ventricles, riding shotgun in Sir Menelik’s Space Cadillac. DJ Boogaveli (who hypes up Sharif like it’s a pep rally at Springwood High) shouted about family at the start of “The Christening,” which sounded sincere compared to the tone Sharif takes on Decay—there the family must be of the Manson or Duggar milieu. He finished the track acapella, exhausting the last of his energy, only to reinvigorate and reanimate for a rioting rendition of “Smithsonian.”

I’ve yet to invest the necessary time into Cavalier’s work, though I know him from his association with Quelle Chris. With an album coming down the pike from Backwoodz, I found myself in the lucky position of witnessing his set incapable of discerning old material from new. He took centerstage, acting as his own hype-man and DJ (though he did high-five the invisible “DJ Light-skin” at one point), and his kineticism was immediately apparent. His floral button-down danced over his body as he rapped vitally. I felt vivisected by his exhortations and incisive observations. Keep in mind, my age prohibits me from becoming enthralled by any performer whose work I’m unfamiliar with—a sort of neuropathy of the soul. But he had me open and endeared by the time he implored, Put the tiger balm on it, put the tiger balm. As you wish, Cav. I lathered my chest.

“Y’all believe in magic? No? That’s okay.” Cav said it so quickly that he didn’t give anyone a chance to answer, but he assumed correctly, I think. Still, I was smitten by his conjurations—he made me a believer (no small task). “King me,” he rapped, “I’m trying to make it all across the board.” And, by the end of it, he had the entire crowd shouting “KING ME” back at him without a problem. MAKE SOME BLOODCLOT NOISE! he growled, and we didn’t need to be asked twice. IT’S VIBRATIONAL, AIN’T IT? With a seemingly innocuous phrase he was able to summon the spirit of the crowd. Over the course of his 25-minute set, I heard him rhyme epiglottis, brag of spitting a verse while performing cunnilingus, give a lesson on homophones, and regale us with stories of winking at cops in Whole Foods. “From the Tree of Life I smoke foliage,” he said, and the trees Betty Smith saw grow in Brooklyn circulated through his lungs. “We need to bring back weed spots—it’s not nostalgia.” Though he did rap nostalgically at times, letting us know he was born in BK, went to school not far from where we stood, and though he’s representing the 504 now, Brooklyn born-and-raised ossified his being into bone.

THIS IS CHURCH, YA FEEL ME? And I did feel him. I spent the week culling quotes about improvisation from Amiri Baraka’s Black Music (1967) for another self-assignment (I don’t work for anyone, son), and highlighted this passage: “...to go back in any historical (or emotional) line of ascent in Black music leads us inevitably to religion, i.e., spirit worship. This phenomenon is always at the root in Black art, the worship of spirit—or at least the summoning of or by such force.” [Peace to Kehinde Alonge—always at the ready with choicest recommendations.] Cavalier danced upon the altar and rapped his sermon relentlessly, tirelessly. I was raised up on tippy-toes, enthralled by the force of his spirit. THIS AIN’T JAZZ?! he asked. WHAT THE FUCK THEY TALKIN’ ABOUT MAN? I don’t know who’s doing that sort of talking, but they’d be hard-pressed to say such a thing in this public gathering. “Brooklyn, this is how it feels—all of us together: this is how it feels.” I believed in Cavalier’s magic by the end of his set. I was charmed by his satchel of High John de Conqueror. Let me know where to Venmo my tithe. 

The heat index had my vision tunneling. When Armand Hammer stepped on stage, sounds were moving in reverse, and the Class-A dynamite duo took us back (way back) in time, when ELUCID was in “fifth grade in [his] dad jeans” and he “played Game Boy in the backseat.” woods, with his first words of the afternoon, said he “rather be codependent than co-defendants.” This must’ve been “Landlines,” the lead-off from the new album, seeing as how they shouted-out JPEGMAFIA, ELUCID rapped “leave a message after the beep,” and a dial tone toned between verses. It was off the hook, as they say.

They seemed to be following the official We Buy Diabetic Test Strips tracklist, because next up was “Woke Up and Asked Siri How I’m Gonna Die” (a song with a title so long that it must’ve come from the magnum mind of ELUCID). She replied, she replied, she replied… they repeated, but I didn’t quite catch what that chatbotbitch said. woods refashioned a line from “Remorseless” with “Life’s a blip, I’m swimming under the radar.” Life’s a blip and then you die, that’s why we puff lye. Further deepening the uncanny valley, their third offering to the musty masses included “fake trees in the Apple Store.” I’m sensing something about the excesses of tech after a cursory listen to these WBDTS tracks, the detritus and pollution it produces. To quote my damn self, something in line with “...a cell tower with evergreen branches: / …a drone with seagull feathers.” ELUCID revived “a double portion of protection for [him] and [his] niggas,” explaining he’s “trying to only say what’s necessary.” By any means, sir. 

Cavalier was welcomed back to the stage for “I Keep A Mirror in My Pocket,” another new joint with Preservation on production. We the audience felt, collectively, like we were in the belly of the beast—those shipping container walls (a real Season 2 of The Wire sensation)—as Cav chorused and signified about the Big Bad Wolf. A cautionary tale, indeed. I can see clearly how Cavalier fits within the Backwoodz cadre. 

The content of the next number left no question of its title. “Niggardly (Blocked Call),” if I was asked to predict, will be the cynosure of the new album. (Yeah, you heard me right dog, I said cynosure.) Produced by August Fanon (who was in the place to be—a rare appearance from an elusive mastermind who would humbly demur if you called him such, I’m supposing), the song has an R0 = 15 infectious hook: “Admittedly niggardly, I won’t even give these niggas bad energy.” woods, what with his penchant for scales and measurements, boils everything “down to the last red cent.” How does he do it? Well, MY HEART PUMP KETAMINE, he yells. We find woods in one of his ruthless, no Vaseline moods: “I eat knowing I’m starving my enemies.” Revenge is like the sweetest joy next to spending time with your kids, and woods picked up where his verse from “As the Crow Flies” left off. He closed his eyes and rapped to the rafters and the sky:

I write when my baby’s asleep, I sit in the room, in the dark, I listen to him breathe, I walk him to school and then the park,  Hold they little hands while we cross the street, I think about my brother who is long gone, And this is all he ever dreamed.

ELUCID and woods repeated admittedly niggardly back-and-forth at the end, delighted with the wordplay. 

They kept riding the August Fanon beatwork like Thomas Sankara in the Renault 5 as the killer chords from “Smile Lines” crept in. The crowd response was screw-faced sneers and shouted lyrics. One youngblood knew the song front to back, beginning to end—ELUCID acknowledged him from the stage: “Peace to the homie out there—he knew every word, man.” I watched the dude beam from the compliment. Even after writing profusely—profusely (fuck Caltrops and his non-existent editor, here comes the predator…)—about woods and ELUCID, I still can’t memorize their lines. Chalk it up to some neurological incapacity that arrived in my 30s. I envy those who commit songs like “Smile Lines” and “Smith + Cross” to memory. My not-so-supple gray matter just can’t cut it anymore.

My expectations for We Buy Diabetic Test Strips were upended by the tracks they debuted. I’d speculated an abrasive noise event; a Sheet Metal Music for the new millennium we’ll never reach; a kind of Schoolly D “P.S.K.” FML swagger. There’s certainly elements of that, just not as much as I was anticipating. (And who knows what noise the as-yet-unheard tracks might bring.) I assumed the shared space with Soul Glo over the past several years, the screechings zapped through the receiver on the toll-free number, and their recent appearance on Shapednoise’s Absurd Matter would be an indication of the Shape of Rap to Come. Speaking of which, woods sludged through his verse from “Family” before DJ Haram’s scrapyard percussion ushered in “Trauma Mic.” 

Haram was at the helm for the entirety of Armand Hammer’s set, and she reveled and felt every ounce of her own beat. The buzzsaw sounds were like Baraka’s description of Don Ayler’s trumpet: “long blasts…in profound black technicolor.” ELUCID’s traumatized mic draped over his shoulder for the opening anvil strikes. He needed his hands free to clap in rhythm. The gesture was reminiscent, again, of Baraka’s analysis of the saxophone held by Albert Ayler (the elder Ayler), “a howling spirit summoner tied around the ‘mad’ Black man’s neck.”

The “Trauma Mic” video had me thinking on thematics of refuse and rubbish—you best protect your dreck. I thought back to the garbology Aesop sifted through, where I saw Bakunin’s barricades in the city streets and revisited the actions of The Motherfuckers in the late ’60s—they stood in solidarity with striking sanitation workers and dumped garbage at the doorstep of Lincoln Center. Armand Hammer—outfitted as scrappers, pitching barrels and coiling skeins of copper wire—are of the same spirit. They propose a cultural exchange of garbage for garbage.

woods bodied “No Hard Feelings” and was joined by damn-near the entire crowd. Had it sounding like a tenant revolt as we all screamed, LIKE THEY STEALING! The Aethiopes track equals, if not outright overtakes, “Asylum” and “Remorseless” as most affecting in the past year’s blitz of performances. 

ELUCID stood on the precipice, at the edge of the stage, as he rapped through “Barbarians.” He went swimming into the crowd with his free arm, astro-spiritually. The refrain of “Who the fuck are you?” evolved from the accusatory tone heard on Rome to an existential “Who the fuck am I?” ELUCID and woods bandied the question between them like two college kids in the dorms at 2AM, faded as fidduck. The “intelligent fist” of woods and the “mysticism” of ELUCID (to use an equation Baraka applied to Milford Graves and Sonny Murray) working together to produce a manic mix. They kept the marriage going through “Mangosteen” before turning to the heliocentric worlds they invented in collaboration with the Alchemist on Haram. “Black Sunlight” and “Falling Out the Sky” had me thinking of Baraka (again!): “It only takes two to start a group. If the two are maturely strong, and have a oneness, then the others will feel it and touch their own sound, voice, or whatever.”

ELUCID’s last solo number was “Spellling,” and by then he was spent but still perseverating in the dopest way possible. “This is a physical experience,” ELUCID said as the song began, asking the soundman to turn the volume up higher. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII been spelling, he spoketh [an ever ever elongated I and a shot-to-the-dome of “been”]. The I Told Bessie opener became what Baraka calls “an antiphonal rhythmic chant-poem-moan.” ELUCID’s voice was ragged by this point, a metallic scrape as he shouted about being “your momma’s favorite, since about ’88, ’89.” The down in “just got to heaven and I can’t sit down” was made malleable in how he twisted it around in his mouth. Split tongue heavy lifting.

He had nothing left when the alarming squeal whistle warp of “Stonefruit” started to play. But the audience assisted, screaming with him I REALLY CAME IN ON A CYCLONE as his voice gave out. woods jumped in early when it was his turn, which proved a moment of levity. To err is human, and woods—despite the adoration he’s been receiving—is endearingly human. That humanity is probably why so many of Armand Hammer’s fans have become zealous collectors, showing up at the venue with cardboard boxes full of vinyl, willing to wait patiently for woods and ELUCID to write their names in metallic Sharpies on these their prized possessions. “First Armand Hammer show in the states in a while,” woods said at one point. “Small flex,” ELUCID noted, chuckling. But they brought it home on Saturday. It was “As the Crow Flies” made manifest. woods brought all the Backwoodz family on stage at the conclusion of their set. The family atmosphere afforded by the 3PM start time was embellished by the sight of children on shoulders. It had the feel of a triumphant affair. It’s winning, it’s winning, it’s winning…

Peace to the conversations that were had with Alex Richter, Willie Green, Max Heath, and Sharif.

Photos credit:  Rory Simms

AH setlist:

1.  Landlines 2.  Woke Up and Asked Siri How I’m Gonna Die 3.  [???] 4.  I Keep A Mirror In My Pocket 5.  Niggardly (Blocked Call) 6.  Smile Lines 7.  Family 8.  Trauma Mic 9.  No Hard Feelings 10.  [???] 11.  Barbarians 12.  Mangosteen 13.  Black Sunlight 14.  Falling Out the Sky 15.  Spellling  16. Stonefruit

[misterjauthor]

FULL-SERVICE MEN: BARBER

“HAVE a seat, bro.” The black man, built like a football player, gestured toward the cushioned bench against the wall. “I’m almost done with his haircut.”

Who’s this guy? Where’s Tony?

I closed the heavy glass door, which rang the bell above it, and went to take a seat.

The buzz-cut man resumed his work on a middle-aged white guy sitting in the shop’s only barber’s chair.

A small pole with red, white, and blue stripes spun on the upper left corner of the mirror.

Maybe Tony was sick and asked this guy to take care of his customers today.

At least the guy was hot. A welcomed change from seeing Tony’s fat ass whenever I come here.

The barber’s tight black wifebeater showed off his tattooed arms from shoulder to wrist. A thin gold necklace hung around his neck, contrasting his dark brown skin.

And, damn! The bulge in the front of his gray sweatpants was impressive.

While waiting my turn, I couldn’t help but stare at his crotch.

“Next.” the muscle-bound barber said.

I snapped out of my trance and got off the bench. “Oh, that’s me.”

“Have a seat. I’ll be right with you.” He shook the hair off the cape before going to the counter to process the other guy’s payment.

After sitting on the bulky barber’s chair, I looked at myself in the mirror and combed my fingers through my slick back hair.

At thirty-five, some gray has mixed with black. It stressed me out. But my wife loved it, especially the ones in my beard.

The bell on the door rang after the customer left.

“So, what can I do for you today?” The barber covered me with the black cape.

“A haircut and beard grooming. Look at this.” I opened my phone and showed him a picture. “That’s how Tony usually cuts my hair.”

“Are you a regular?” He started working on my hair.

“Yeah.” I sat still and looked at him in the mirror. “Where’s the fat bastard, anyway? Are you filling in for the day?”

“The shop’s mine now. He sold it to me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. I haven’t been around for a while. That’s why I needed a haircut.”

“He wasn’t able to tell anyone because he needed to move to Seattle to take care of his sick father.” The barber offered his hand. “I’m Omar.”

I brought my hand out from under the cape and shook it. “Miguel.”

Omar resumed cutting my hair. “Is this just a regular haircut, or are you getting ready for a special occasion?”

“My wife and I are having dinner at Chef Dino’s. It’s our thirteenth wedding anniversary.”

“Fancy. Happy Anniversary, Bro. I hope my fiancee and I will last as long or longer.”

“Thanks, man. Have you two set a date?”

“Nothing definite yet. But we’re thinking most likely after the baby comes. She’s seven months pregnant.”

My phone vibrated inside my pocket.

I brought it out to see if it was my wife with last-minute instructions before I went home to get ready.

It was from Jason.

The preview of the message showed an eggplant and peach emoji.

My heart thumped inside my chest.

Before the straight barber saw, I put the phone back under the cape.

After our first encounter at the house, I had sex with the plumber multiple times. I would usually go to his place or sometimes to his office on the pretense of delivering plumbing supplies from my hardware store. His employees had no idea their boss fucked me from behind while bent over the desk.

The phone on the counter rang.

“Bro, I’ll be right back.”

“Go ahead, man.”

Omar walked away.

While he talked on the phone, I replied to Jason’s message: ‘I can’t. Dinner plans with my wife.’

‘Don’t you rather want to eat this?’

A picture of the dick I’ve been sucking for the past few weeks showed on the thread.

Shit!

My dick came alive inside my boxers.

I turned the phone over and looked toward Omar.

He lifted a finger and mouthed, “One sec.”

After giving him a thumbs up, I typed a reply: ‘I can’t. Anniversary.’

“Sorry about that, Bro.” Omar stood on my right, holding a beard clipper. “I don’t have a receptionist yet.”

I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “It’s okay, man. I know what it’s like when you’re understaffed.”

My phone vibrated again.

But I ignored it.

“You have your own business?”

“I own Chavez and Son.”

“That big hardware store near here?” He whistled.

While running the device through my beard, something soft and meaty pressed against my elbow.

My whole body tensed at the unexpected contact.

Blood rushed to my dick, tightening my pants.

Oh, my fucking god. Was that Omar’s dick?

The bulge in his sweatpants lifted off.

I relaxed and discreetly adjusted myself under the cape.

“Did you see the basketball game last night, Bro?” He asked.

Pretending nothing happened, I said, “It’s fucking crazy, man. I lost a bet with one of my buddies.”

Omar went to my left while talking about the awesome plays last night.

I grunted and nodded to whatever he said, distracted by the phantom pressure of his dick on my elbow.

Stop overthinking it. He didn’t do it on purpose. It was just an accident. “Are you okay?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at him holding the beard trimmer. “Yeah, sorry. I just remembered something.”

“Don’t worry, Bro. All I need to do is shave the edges, then you can go home and get ready for your dinner with the missus.” He reclined the chair, making it almost horizontal, and went to the mirror.

I held onto the armrest in silence.

Omar returned with a small can of shaving cream and stood next to the chair, squeezing some on his fat fingers.

His massive bulge was inches from my face. An outline of his dick showed on the sweatpants.

Heat spread throughout my entire body, making my arousal more intense.

Good thing the cape hid my crotch, or he would have seen the teepee under it.

As he leaned over, his dick pressed on my arm and stayed there while applying the cream to my cheeks and neck.

My heart pumped faster, sending more blood into my raging dick.

I wanted to grab the straight barber’s meat and massage it. But instead, pushed my arms into his dick without making it too obvious.

Jolts of electricity traveled all over my body as more of the black man’s fat sausage touched my skin.

Closing my eyes, I gripped the chair tight and savored the feel of it, wishing it stayed on me longer.

Omar stepped away, taking his dick with him.

No! Don’t go.

I sagged on the chair and squeezed my hard-on under the cape while he couldn’t see.

He picked up a straight razor from the mirror, leaned over me, and started shaving the edges of my beard.

While trying to stay completely still, I avoided looking at his stubbled face.

The beefy black man moved closer to shave the other side of my neck, pressing his bulge against the back of my hand.

I gasped, and my whole body stiffened.

Oh, god.

“Are you okay?” He made eye contact before checking my neck. “It doesn’t look like I nicked you.”

“No, I’m okay. I was just surprised. That’s all.”

His dick stayed pressing on me as Omar resumed.

Sledgehammers pounded inside my chest.

My dick twitched, and precum leaked out, soaking my boxers.

Was he doing it on purpose? Does he want me to…? If I’m wrong, I’ll have to find a new barber when I leave the hospital.

Oh, fuck it! I’m doing it.

Slowly, I rubbed the back of my fingers against the meaty bulge.

Omar kept working, unfazed by my actions.

I continued but with more pressure.

“Miguel, if you tease the snake, it might get angry.”

Without moving my hand off his dick, I looked up at him.

My heart pumped a million times a minute.

“Can you handle the snake when it’s angry?”

“Y-yes.”

A smirk showed on his face. “Just let me finish this.”

I nodded.

Omar wiped off the excess foam with a towel when he finished.

My erection pushed against my pants like it would burst out like an alien from a movie.

He returned the chair to its upright position and removed the cape from me.

“What if customers come in?” I asked.

“Easy.” Omar went to lock the door.

While waiting in silence, I vibrated with excitement.

After pulling the blinds down, the muscular black man stood next to the chair.

I grabbed and massaged the sizeable bulge through the sweatpants.

He cocked his chin at the massive tent on my crotch. “Looks like someone wanted to make my snake angry this whole time.”

“You’re the one who’s been pressing his dick into me.”

“It’s because I knew you were a fag the moment you came in. And you’ve been staring at my crotch while waiting for your turn.”

“How did you…?

“The shop is full of mirrors. You think I wouldn’t notice the fag who keeps looking at my dick?”

Fuck! Am I that obvious when checking guys out? I need to be more careful.

“It’s a good thing you came in. With my fiancee pregnant, I need someone who can take care of my dick. You want to do it for me?”

“Oh, god, yes.”

“What are you waiting for?” Omar put both hands on his hips, showing off the muscular tattooed arms.

I shoved my hand inside his sweatpants and stroked him through his underwear.

“Look at you,” the straight barber scoffed. “Pretending to be straight by getting ready to celebrate your wedding anniversary with your wife. But right now, your hand is inside another man’s pants, holding his cock.”

“It’s a big cock, man. It’s not even hard yet.”

“You like big cocks?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“How about big black cocks?”

“Even better.” I inserted my fingers in the waistband of his sweatpants and pushed them down until they dropped to his ankle.

The shape of a meaty dick pointing down pushed the front of his white briefs.

I resumed stroking him through the cotton.

“Go ahead, fag. Show me how much you want it.”

I pulled the elastic and hooked it under his low-hanging balls.

A full bush of pubes surrounded the black, cut dick.

Using underhand, I wrapped my fingers around the fat shaft and jacked him off.

Omar pushed his briefs halfway down his thighs. “Yeah, that’s it. Make my dick hard.”

I leaned over the side of the chair, took his dick into my mouth, and started bobbing.

He gasped and gripped the hair behind my head.

While holding onto his thighs, I sucked the barber’s dick harder.

His dick grew between my lips.

“Motherfucker! Your mouth feels so good.” He pulled his wifebeater up and hooked it on his neck, revealing more tattoos on his ripped torso.

I produced more spit to make the blowjob wetter and smoother.

“You’re fucking talented. Better than my fiancee or any bitch I’ve been with. Have you sucked a lot of cocks before?”

“Let’s just say this is not the first cock I’ve sucked.” I resumed sucking while sliding a hand up and down his abs, feeling the contours of the solid muscles in my palm.

Omar’s hard dick filled my mouth.

“Where were you the past couple of months? I could’ve used this amazing mouth when I needed it.”

I held onto the base and stroked the spit-slicked shaft. “If I knew you would let me, I would have visited sooner, man.”

He put his dick back in my mouth. “Don’t worry. You can make up for it by coming here whenever I tell you. Do you want that?”

“Mm-hm,” I mumbled with his dick in my mouth.

“Whenever I don’t have a customer, come over and service me. I may even make you when I have customers so you can service them, too.”

Fuck!

I moaned at the thought of being passed around by different strangers.

Omar chuckled, “Someone likes the idea. Let’s see if I can make that happen.”

As I continued sucking, I jacked the bottom half for added stimulation.

“Fuck, I miss getting good blowjobs like this.”

I took him out of my mouth and slid my lips on the side of the shaft, from base to head.

“Get back on that dick.” He gripped my hair and made me suck him again. “Take it all.”

Adjusting my mouth, I tried to take more.

With his hand behind my head, he pulled me into his crotch, burying his meat deeper.

The head hit the back of my throat, activating my gag reflex.

But instead of pulling away, I took more until it went down my esophagus.

A hand touched my neck. “Damn! I can feel my dick stretching your throat.”

While the big black cock plugged my airway, I looked up at him.

“Such a talented cocksucker.” Omar petted my head. “From now on, I’ll feed you my dick every chance.”

I pulled away to catch my breath and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

He pushed his briefs down to the ankles, stepped out of his sweatpants and shoes, and stood in front of the chair. His big black cock pointed up at an angle like a flag pole on the side of a building.

I wrapped my hand around it and stroked it.

Precum collected at the tip.

“Look at what you did to my cock, you fag. It’s leaking.” Omar swiped the clear liquid with a finger and shoved it between my lips.

I sucked the sticky man-juice off his fat finger.

He pulled it out and pointed to his meat. “Clean that up.”

Leaning forward, I sucked his leaking dick into my mouth.

More of the salty nectar burst inside my mouth.

“Fuck!” Omar leaned against the mirror’s counter.

I held the dick at the base and swirled my tongue around the head.

He gripped the counter tighter.

As my tongue ran the sides of the shaft, I slid my hand up his muscular torso until it reached his nipples.

“Yes, play with them.”

After taking the dick back in my mouth, I rubbed the erect nubs between my fingers.

Omar thrust his hips, burying his dick in my throat with each bob. “This mouth is the best. I wonder if the other end feels good, too. Do you get fucked?”

“Mm-hm.”

He pulled out. A long rope of spit stretched from his dick to my mouth. “Take your clothes off. I’m gonna fuck that pussy.”

I got off the chair and removed my clothes.

Omar turned me around, facing the mirror, and bent me at the waist.

I grabbed the counter and looked at him in the mirror. “Do you have lube?”

“We can use this.” He grabbed the bottle of beard oil in front of me.

“That would be better than nothing.”

After putting some on his fat finger, he pressed it against my hole and pushed in, stretching me open.

I shut my eyes at the intrusion.

The digit started slowly moving in and out. “I’ve never fucked a man’s pussy before. Can you take my big black cock, fag?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Just loosen me up first.”

Another finger went in.

“I bet I’m not the first black man you’ve had.”

“No.”

“You’re such a fucking slut for cock.”

Once he had three fingers fucking me, he pulled out and put some beard oil on his dick.

I looked at him behind my shoulder. “Please, put that big black cock inside me, man.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna stuff your pussy good.” Omar slapped my ass cheek and pushed the head through my hole.

“Fuck! That’s a big cock.” I gripped the counter.

His dick stretched my anal ring with each inch.

“You’re so fucking tight!”

“Tighter than your fiancee’s?” I asked.

“Tighter than any bitch I fucked.” He put one hand on my hip and pushed his length further in.

“Loosen it up with that big black cock. Wreck it until I walk funny while taking my wife to dinner later.”

Omar growled and started fucking slowly.

I wrapped my fingers around my dick and stroked myself to match his pace. “Yes, keep going. Fuck my pussy, man.”

“Look at you.” He grabbed onto my shoulder and fucked into me faster. “Trying to fool people you’re straight and macho, but what you really are is a faggot who wants real men to use your pussy. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Say it. I want to hear you say what you really are.”

“I’m a faggot who wants real men to use my pussy.”

Omar fucked me harder and faster until his dick bottomed out inside me. He would pull until only the head remained and slam the whole thing into me in one go.

I braced myself on the counter.

The slapping of flesh, mixed with my whimpers and his grunts, filled the barbershop.

He pulled out. “Get up on the chair and stick that ass out.”

I climbed up and knelt, facing the backrest, arching my back to present my gaping hole to the straight barber.

“You have the best pussy ever.” Omar stabbed his big black cock back inside me and started fucking again. “I can’t believe I’ve never had it before.”

“It’s yours now, man. Fuck it anytime you want. You can use me as your cumdump even after your fiancee gives birth.”

The chair shook with each thrust.

I grabbed on to keep myself from falling over.

At this angle, his dick rubbed against my prostate.

“Oh, shit! Keep fucking me right there.”

Omar bent forward, pressing his chest against my back, and grabbed my shoulder while pounding me from behind.

“Please, you’re getting me close.”

“Did you let Tony fuck your pussy like this, too? Admit it. The fat bastard has been fucking your ass for a long time.”

“No, he never fucked me.”

“I bet you wished he did,” he whispered in my ear.

“Oh, god, yes. I fantasized about him pinning me down with his massive body, helpless while getting fucked. Shit, I’m cumming!”

My dick exploded, shooting cum on the leather backrest and the seat until nothing more came out.

“Fuck, I’m gonna shoot, too.” He shoved every inch of his black cock inside me.

“Breed me, man. Make me go to my anniversary dinner with your load inside me. Mark me as yours.”

“Ah! Here it comes.” Omar let go, injecting his creamy load inside me with each slam of his hips. “Take it all.”

After draining his balls into me, he stopped thrusting but kept it inside me.

“That was fucking intense,” he said.

Our sweaty bodies pressed together while we caught our breaths.

Once we recovered, Omar pulled out and gave me the towel he used to wipe the shaving cream off my face.

I cleaned my jizz off the chair with it.

After putting our clothes back on, I paid him and walked toward the door. I need to go home and get ready for my anniversary dinner.

“Hey, Miguel.”

I looked behind me after grabbing the handle.

“If you need my services again, you know where to find me.” Omar grabbed his crotch and winked.

Miguel’s encounters will continue…

Previous Episode | Next Episode

---

Check out my other stories available on Amazon and Smashwords.

I truly appreciate the support. It inspires me to continue writing.

If you enjoy my stories, please let me know. Or at least Reblog it.

Mister J

[thommi-tomate]

The first column of Holger Badstuber !

Hello football friends!

Who will be the German champion, just FCB or BVB Borussia? The cup showdown is imminent in the Bundesliga and I am happy to be able to write my first column for you.

But before I present you with my prediction for Matchday 34, I have to think back eleven years, because these are the images that come to mind these days.

Absolute silence reigned around me, I looked at my feet in front of me, my thoughts were spinning wildly in circles. I felt bewilderment, humility, but at the same time an incredible challenge. On May 12, 2012, Borussia Dortmund beat us 5-2 in the DFB Cup final.

The defeat was so painful that it cheered us up. It was already clear to us in the dressing room in Berlin: the summer break would not be a break. We couldn't go on like that. We knew we had what it took to win titles, so we immediately felt the pressure and the desire to keep working immediately, on ourselves, on the culture, to be right there again at the start of the new season.

"The season was a season full of interference."

It was the great advantage of our team. Now it's the tenth anniversary of what we then achieved at Wembley, among other things.

Setbacks are part of professional sport, whether as an individual or as a team. It is important then to draw the right conclusions, make the necessary decisions and work hard.

That still applies and especially to the current situation at my former club, FC Bayern . The season was a season of interruptions that combined to become a conflagration.

There was no recognizable clear line in the management of the club, communication with the outside seemed inconsistent, there were too many off-field issues that caused unease. In addition, there were too many goals conceded. The result is a team that is not intact and does not deserve to win titles.

"Everything has to be questioned."

Coach Thomas Tuchel is the right man in the right place. He is hard on himself, hard on the team: this mentality is needed now, everyone at Bayern needs this mentality when reflecting on this season. You have to question everything: board, club management, transfers.

But it is also important to stay positive, to think positively. FC Bayern has always had a strong winning mentality, a good culture of debate and cohesion both internally and externally. That should be the focus.

Despite all the undisputed soccer quality in the squad, I could no longer recognize this mentality at FCB.

"Bayern just fucked it up."

So my prediction for Saturday is: BVB will be German champions because Bayern did so. With seven defeats, it really wasn't a standout performance of the season by Dortmund , while BVB completely fell behind. Bayern just screwed it up.

Actually, it's not bad for football in Germany that FCB's long championship era is coming to an end. Excitement until the last day of the championship fight means a big plus in attractiveness for the Bundesliga, a gain in charisma. This is urgently needed because it has suffered so much in recent years.

In 2012, BVB and FC Bayern were the two best teams in Europe. To re-establish them, regain international respect and advance back to world class, both the Bundesliga and DFB decision-makers will have to invest a lot of work in the future.

Winning the title for Dortmund could be a start in the right direction.

Source:

[chameleon-on-lsd]

Polizeiruf 110 (Hildes Erbe) liveblogging

did a Hörk football!AU fic motivate me to watch this? yes, of course it did what a jazzy theme tune (ich lach mich kaputt falls irgendwer kurwa sagen sollte) lmao ja, die ross und schürk WG in berlin ist halt schon ne geile fandom idee lmao, ja biet nem cop drogen an :D is aber auch n verdammt abgesifftes treppenhaus xD god he is pretty lolll "jung, dynamisch, ausgeschlafen". honestly, warum isser SO abgefuckt 'leute ihr seit polen' 'und polinnen' schön kriegt polnisch wenigstens ein paar untertitel, nicht so wie das französisch bei Grandjean taking pills? shakes hands with Pia vincent sieht halt so gut aus the judgement about the 0000 pin xD ljstkesopafesjdsjgjkgjk< AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH am I just truly fucked up, but I couldn't watch that scene without my shipper heart soaring adkaslkdöaslk vincent's eifer und ausstehen nachdem checken wer adam ist? und dass vincent etwas grösser ist :3 "ihr dienst beginnt jetzt" bby die ring kette macht mir zu schaffen 'frisch aus dem polizei-kindergarten' aber auch geil dass vincent so lange nicht gesagt hat dass er ein kollege ist?? (i'm sorry but that polish accent for 'fingerabdrücke?' 'alles.' 'ugh das wird die hölle' killed me) vincent's augenbrauen xD ich mag den typen. sehr dramatisch xD awwwwwww adam's lächeln weil er solche shows schon kennt xD the fucking sitzpinkler kommentar xD aldklasödkdsaölköl who could be normal if vincent's looks at them like he looks after the 'das sagst du mir jetzt?!' lmao adam and the drug dealer kleines kurwa!! die ganzen blicke auf vincent's rock xD aaaah und sein fucking grinsen als er mit adam wegläuft "bevor ich mich deinem... regime unterwerfe" alter. was ne aussage und was ne mimik und stimme dazu xD die blondine sieht so sehr aus wie britanny von glee lmao lass vincent sein outfit lmao der einsame statist der über die brücke geht xDD KASJsklajsdlkajdlkasjdlka T H I G H S ja was n geiles vorbild, sms lesen und auto fahren xD der rock war einiges besser als die fucking capris xD vincent's salute!! 'is makaber, det is aber so' ooh. grandma has porcelaine figurines huh. and who had a whole box of them? yes, the guy. who thinks there's smth hidden in the figurines? (they also immediately clock that xD) mhh oxygen und rauchen, geil ah ein penner-heim in berlin? ja fahr mal hin vincent xD und du hast dein sohn Ulf genannt xD lmao die vierer telefonei xD ach er ist wirklich vegetarier sdalkdasjdslkjsaflk AAAAHAHHHHH the bonding time you had to drop 'sexuell unausgelastet' da rein ne? 'vielen dank herr hobby-psychologe.' 'hobby? ich habs immerhin studiert' .....why do you have to pee RIGHT THERE??? yells 'tschüss' at his cock xD of course vincent does yoga asdkjsalkd baby n hammer?? aw vincent bby 'nein lecken Sie mich' xD the. bike LMAO THE GUARD USING PAINT also yelling at adam that they have no space for more unhoused ppl aww Hilde :c was ne schmale kravatte xD very avril lavigne of you das transporter ding hast du immer noch nicht gemacht? lmao grandma 800'000 euro xD lmao das datensicherheit so ein wiederkehrendes thema ist xDD ja lass die sandra die kohle sehen xD wie sehr das rumspucken einfach in dem licht dargestellt wird AAAAH VINCENT'S BAMBI AUGEN natürlich kann adam nicht böse sein lmao die oma einfach so typische sprüche uff damn, this family is fucked up lmao wie oft der typ 'das weiss ich gar nicht' sagt und jemand immediately calls out his bullshit Ich fühl adam so. einfach mal aufm boden rumliegen? geil xD und wie er das handy wegstupst xD lmao oma auf rollator am randalieren xD hm blümchen crocs XDDD WARUM HAT ER JETZT AN DEN SCHUHEN GESCHNÜFFELT?? XD 'da war ein fahrrad!' vincent bby ..ist nur mir unklar ob die wissen dass die tochter dort drin is? <3 dass adam wenigstens zuhört so halbherzig das handgelenk dehnen wärend vincent sich räkelt xD ja was ne kamera einstellung xD the twirl¨!!! H E L P THE CHEST GRAB 'den ganzen privaten scheiss' also das war dein problem, dass es nicht beruflich war, nicht die geste an sich

aw das kleine wrist tattoo du bist SO von berlin gefahren? xDD die tochter immer noch auf rachezug AYOOOO we got a kurwa shout out to David Friedrich ‘den kleinen stinker’ xDD god the grandma/father scenes 'du bist so eine schlampe’ xD I’m guessing not that sense of schlampe “BARSCH!” xDDD einfach son ungekühlter fisch inner tüte?? xD und ja, so geht 'nicht trinken’ auch xD 'können Sie bitte aufhören sich die kante zu geben?’ xDD whooof the D R A M A “Sie hatten Ihre ersten beiden Tage mit Adam. Bleiben Sie trotzdem bei uns?” “hahahaha” xDDD lol the dramatic sound cues xDD hätte hätte fahrradkette ne xD d'awww vincent and the office dog 'cih muss morgen den sprinter zurückbringen’ kannst du die ganze kohle zahlen die du für zu spätes zurückbringen zahlen werden musst?? xD d'awww wie er der putze tschüss sagt radio: 'der erste morgen gruss kommt von peter mafay’ da würd ich mein auto auch vorn fucking baum setzen (adam’s actor hat gestochene ohrlöcher. warum fällt mir so scheiss immer auf xD ) tschüss oma…. das war ja keine überraschung xD wenigstens muss er sich von vincwent nichts anhören mh ja tschüss hilde natürlich n trekker xD VINCENT UND DER SCHEISS TRANSPORTER Xd 'wehr dich nicht, komm’ :c god yikes, just clumping the hair away 'meinem freundlichen kollegen hier’ xD das freundlich war wichtig xD aw emma kriegt endlich mal neue kleidung xD gott die ring kette asdlkasjldkjaslkdasjlk the clapping for the re-built statue 'knapp daneben is eben auch fürn arsch’ xDD actually laughed out loud at the 'das is eigentlich n labrador. is in der hitze geschmolzen’ it’s so corny just now noticed vincent’s helix piercing god vincent’s eye colour in dem licht ;-; vincent wie der typ mit zwei tüten voll geld davonstolpert AAAAAHH was ist das für ne szene? wie kann man das schauen ohne die zu shippen?? the drink sharing, the banter, vincent’s haar wuscheln, 'schön dass du da bist’ und das lächeln ?!?!?!? die pillen konfrontation!!!! the CHOKING AND PATS und wie er seine hand anschaut lmao yes finally drive the fucking transporter nach berlin (watching the making of and fucking screams. was Lucas da raushaut. ja warum fragt man sich nicht ob es eine erotische spannung zwischen den männlichen komissaren gibt. well you certainly fucking acted your ass off regarding that potential, big kudos

I’m rewatching it already so some more thoughts: - I honestly LOVE the intro of the episode. The voice over? The flashback? The music? The victim is SO nice, imagine if they’d been neighbours - I missed adam’s 'ja, mutti’ to marian xD - wie vincent auch einfach ständig mit dem täschi rumlauft xD da sind er und schürk einfach gleich xD - wie adam vincent als 'dieser junge mann hier’ vorstellt. thoughts. - was genau ist wiktor mit dem tablet am machen? xDD fotos durchswipen? - 'is meine familie. sehen gut aus. quatschen nicht’ (ömi über die figuren xD) - wiktor is saved as Viktor Krol in adam’s phone. interesting? - wie vincent’s hemd in der auto szene einfach wunderschön zu seiner augenfarbe passt - wie die den fucking vodka ohne mine verziehen trinken. vincent würd ich das echt nicht geben xD

[endearingjaemin]

enough for you | LEE MARK

the five times mark realized that he wasn't enough for you

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲

mark lee. the unattainable and incredible mark lee. the football team captain, the typical and cliché boy that dated the cheerios leader, the popular and untouchable mark lee. the shy mark lee that, somehow, ended up dating with you, an average girl unable to attract attention, to stand out from someone else. the same girl that started wearing make-up as soon as started dating mark, the same girl who wasn't like all the prom queens that her boyfriend loved before.

"mark, am i pretty today?"

the sunlight shined on your face, making you look like some kind of goddess. your pretty dress fitting perfectly all over your shape and your perfect hair that took away mark's breath. long short story, absolutely stunning. but he didn't had the guts to say it.

"you look... good", he said as his heart ran a race with his thoughts.

"just good?"

"i'm not the compliment type, actually. so, i don't really know"

that day, you felt a scratch in your being.

that day, mark thought that he wasn't enough for you.

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫

"so, you're literally calling me because you need help to order your girlfriend a goddamn coffee?"

"dude, just help me out"

he knew he should know you better. he knew he was making a mistake calling johnny. he knew that everything in that situation was wrong. but he couldn't help it. and the despair was killing him.

"how many times did (y/n) showed up with your favorite coffee? she didn't call me on any of those occasions, or any of your friends"

"i'm not for this. it's literally a thing as minimal as a fucking coffee, jonh, just help me out and let's over this stupid conversation"

"maybe it's just a minimal thing for you, mark. but she knows you like the fucking palm of her hand. mark, are you even sure that you're enough for her?"

that day, mark was a little more confident that he wasn't enough for you.

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬

"i mean, that's basic"

"maybe it is for you but not everyone knows it"

a beautiful night with you and your friends as special stars. the eight girls that would hold your heart through storms and tides, the eight girls that would put their hands on fire for you and your happiness, the eight girls who hold your back. your backup team.

"(y/n), call mark and ask him your favorite song"

karina and irene were talking about relationships and how they work differently for each person. for them, you and mark were the steps to follow. for them, you were mark's person.

"why would i?"

"because karina said that a boyfriend should know even your playlist because it's a basic, but irene said that not every boyfriend knows that. the rest of us just wants to know. go ahead and call him. i bet that he definitely knows", ningning explained.

with shaky and insecure hands, you dialed mark's number.

"put him on speaker", giselle said.

"hello?", mark said as soon as he answered the call.

"hi, markie. um, this might be a very random question but... what my favorite song is?"

your friends could tell your sadness when mark didn't answer, but your hope and teary eyes wanted to wait a bit more for him to finally say something. and before you could ask if he was still on the call, he cut. cutting, at the same time, the edges of your heart.

that night, seulgi had to cheer you up to not cry.

that night, mark fell asleep with his mind screaming that he wasn't enough for you.

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬

"explain me again why are we here, please"

"you don't actually have to be here, yeri, i'm the one who's reading"

"and are you reading for the worth of someone?"

no matter how hard you try, yeri would never understand. you just wanted to be something for mark, someone he would be proud to show up at the would, someone smart and diligent, someone interesting to introduce to his family, someone to walk down the street holding hands, someone right for him, someone... worthy.

"reading makes you smart"

"but you are already smart, (y/n), what the hell are you doing with all this shit?"

and right behind the shelves, mark was hearing the whole words exchange, unable to understand how someone like you could still be with someone like him, someone... unworthy.

that day, the books' words kept telling him that he wasn't enough for you.

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝

"yuta came back from his japanese trip"

"cool"

your bones were freezing, your soul was dying. the only thing you wanted from mark was a hug, or a kiss, or a word. but any of that arrived. no hug envolving you, no kiss suffocating you, no words comforting you. you were a mess, a mental mess, a teary mess.

"i called him"

"what?"

"so he can join us. c'mon on, (y/n), he's one of my best friends"

"and i'm your girlfriend, mark. this was our date, no place for yuta or any of your friends. what, am i not that interesting for you? am i bored? yeah, maybe i don't have a whole japanese trip story to tell but this was supposed to be our time together. what are we even doing right now? what the heck is the fucking purpose of all this?"

before he could talk, the doorbell rang. now, it was a date for three.

that evening, mark could felt the eyes on him telling him that he wasn't enough for you.

"dear (y/n),

i know explicitly that this is not the way to end the things up. and i know explicitly that right now i'm acting like a coward. or maybe i'm not acting, maybe this is the way i have always been. and maybe this was our fate to fulfill. maybe we weren't meant to be.

this past months, you've shown me that your heart was truly committed into this relationship. this past months, i've provoked you nothing but tears and sadness. and i've knew it from way before, but... don't you think i'm not enough for you? 'cause i've saw you at the library reading all my self-help books so i think that you were smart, 'cause i couldn't tell you how pretty you are, 'cause i don't know what your favorite song is, 'cause i had to call johnny when you asked me for a coffee because i don't know your order, 'cause i left you in the exact moment i had the chance to. god, (y/n), you know me by heart. all you ever wanted was to be enough for me and i couldn't even reward you back. and i am so sorry. i'm sorry for not being able to protect your heart, i'm sorry for not being brave. and i know that you probably don't want my sympathy, but try to find yourself back. do not cry for me, you did nothing wrong. you're pretty, and smart, and so excited. i'm the one who couldn't take it, i'm the one who's not enough. but, maybe, if the life wanted so, we would see each other again. and, there, i would maybe be enough for you. stop trying so hard, (y/n), you're good being you"

"STUPID! EMOTIONAL! OBSESSIVE LITTLE ME!"

there you were, on the floor, heartbroken. you never wanted to believe yourself, but you knew from the start this is exactly how he'd leave. what was it? you weren't that interesting as the girls he had before?

god, he couldn't care less about someone who loved him more.

between joy's arms, you couldn't stop yourself from crying.

"hey, it's okay, just calm down"

"WHAT AM I NOW? i loved him too much that i feel used and discarded. do i deserve this? do i deserve nothing?"

"look at me", irene said, "you know what? he's gonna feel sorry for himself because, one day, you'll be everything to somebody else. and they'll think that you're so exciting, and they'll be able to tell you how wonderful you are, and he'll be the one crying. you wanted to be enough, right? well, he wasn't enough for you. you're so much for him to take, you know that? we're here, (y/n), let the shit get out of your soul. we got you"

later on, you realized that wearing make-up for someone wasn't the key, you realized that trying so hard was meaningless, that reading was a self-pleasure, that you were actually smart, that the compliment type do exists, that you are interesting. that you were enough. and maybe someone broke much more than just your heart, but now you were the one smiling. and, far away, mark was the one crying.

[1337wtfomgbbq]

Okay, because @f1yogurt is a fucking enabler (in a good way😘) Imma tell you about the gas incident at my school.

But Imma put it under a cut.

It happened in 2010

Fyi: I thought it happened in 2012 or something, but the articles all said 2010. Anyways.

It was a usual day. We were just having math when there was an announcement over the intercom that everybody was to remain in their class rooms and remain absolutely silent, the teachers were supposed to lock the doors from the inside and we should all stay put until further notice.

And, mind you, we don't do school lockdown drills or active shooter drills in germany. We do fire drills, and that's it.

So, right from the get go we were all on high alert.

So our teacher locks the door and we all remain silent and wait and wait.

Then we see the firetrucks pass by our class window. We think, 'okay, maybe it's a weird as fuck fire drill?'

But then there are ambulances, and police cars and a fucking rescue helicopter.

And it doesn't add up anymore.

Because, yes we had some fires at our school, so we're kinda used to at least one fire per year, and we weren't worried when the firetrucks and ambulances passed the window... but the police and helicopter didn't quite add up.

Also, there were so many of them. Like, way more than what you would need for a fire drill. The whole ass street was fully blocked by firetrucks, and ambulances, and police cars.

So, one of us writes on the chalk board, cause we're still not allowed to talk, 'fire drill?'

But another shakes his head and writes, 'school shooting?'

But we dismiss that, as we didn't hear anything, AT ALL!

So we wait and wait and wait, until there was finally another announcement telling us to leave our classrooms in an orderly manner and head to the school's football (soccer) field.

So we do that, and as we get to the outside we can see just how many firefighters, and policeman and EMTs there are. The whole school grounds are full of them.

Anyways, our teacher, who was the vice principal at the time, leaves us to go and find out what the bloody fuck is happening.

Well, turns out some kid sprayed irritant gas into the schools ventilation systems. (He told us it was pepper spray used against animals)

We had a bunch of students getting reactions to that gas (about 132 if the article is correct) and five even had to be taken to the hospital.

Later on we learned that the kid was the cousin of one of our classmates.

Anyways, the student apparently also threatened a school shooting (just for fun) and was kicked off our school. And about one or two years later he was on the german tv show: „Die strengsten Eltern der Welt“ (the world's striktest parents).

Our biology teacher got so excited about that that he made it our homework to watch that episode so we could talk about it in class.

Here are some links so you don't think I'm making this up. We made the news, and Bielefeld exists.

(I'm pretty sure you can find the episode of "Die strengsten Eltern der Welt" on youtube)

[elenyafinwe]

Hi! 💜

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language?

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem?

❤️❤️❤️ Thank you!

18. Do you speak with a dialect of your native language?

Sächsisch my beloved. Or to be precise it's more Mansfelderisch. Both belong to the Eastmiddlegerman dialect group and to speak of Sächisch is also not very accurate. What most people understand as Sächisch is rather called Meißnerisch. It differs a bit form what I speak. If you want to know how Mansfelderisch sounds, listen to this:

The typical Sächsisch aka Meißnerisch sounds like this:

Yeah, sorry, I only know silly stuff to illustrate this 😅

And to speak of a dialect is also not quite correct. I don't fully speak it (unless I actively want to) and my daily speak is only colored by it. I mostly speak Standard (which is technically also a dialect of the German) with a local color to it.

This is probably super confusing for people not versed in German dialects or dialectology in general o.O Because yes, I studied that shit! 🙈 I once had a course about this topic.

19. Do you like your country's flag and/or emblem? What about the national anthem?

This is a tricky question to ask a German. Because we have history 😬 Short answer: no.

Long answer: Nationalism sucks. Hard. Fuck Nazis. Kick patriots in the ass.

I don't know if any other country in the world has the same difficult relationship with their national symbols. (Certainly not Americans lol.) But for Germans it always has a certain taste to it. And that again is difficult for many. "Am I not allowed to be proud of my country?" they ask. Yes, you are, but ... Do you want yourself outed as Nazi? Uff.

I see people with the flag of Germany in their profile, look into what they tweet and it's always some AfD Neonazi bullshit. That's the kind of person who runs around with the flag of Germany. It was ... weird in 2006 where the football world champion ship was in Germany and suddenly you saw the flag everywhere. On cars, in windows and people bought silly hats in the colors of the flag.

(Brings back memories of the Hutbürger. "Sie hab'n mir ins Jesicht jefilmt!" 🤣)

So I see someone running around with the flag and it makes me sooo itchy because those people are always conservatives.

Neither am I particularly proud of being born German (rather indifferent to it) nor do I feel represented by the flag and what it stands for. "Einigkeit und Recht und Freiheit." Neither are we truly one nation, we still have a BIG gap between East and West, nor is this truly a just system, and freedom also is debatable since we still have transmisic laws like the TSG and shit. I don't have the freedom to be who I am in this country. I'm still discriminated by the law that doesn't allow me to transition as the person I am. To name just one example.

Besides, the anthem sucks, it's lame. There is also history™️ to that thing. The text is the Deutschlandlied by August Heinrich Hoffmann von Fallersleben and has three verses. We only sing the third (or rather play the music and some may also move their lips), because the Nazis used the first verse for their hymn and interpreted it according to their ideology. See, history 😬 So it's only the third verse now you hear during football and the rest was cutted in 1949.

I have to be honest: I like the hymn of the old GDR Auferstanden aus Ruinen 🙈 That slaps and the text resonates a lot more with me. But that was canceled after the reunion, because it was stuff from the East and that's apparently bäh bäh wether it was good or not 😑

"Hi, I'm not from the US" ask set

[schnaf]

Sieben, zwölf und dreizehn für die Fußball-asks? 😊

7. Is anyone in your family a football fan? my mum doesn’t really like football but she tries to stay a little bit informed. my dad is kiiiinda interested in football but he sticks to the stuff he hears on the radio. he does keep an eye on live tickers when augsburg plays, though, for me and my sister. which brings me to the actual football fan in my family - my sister. she got into football a while after i started going to the stadium and after a while, i took her with me. stayed that way until, well, corona. but we still follow the matches together.... most of the time. she preferred to watch the bts concert thingie today. good for her tbh.

12. Your personal “best moment in football history”? liverpool. it’s maybe a bit basic bcs that’s also the biggest success in my club’s history, but.... it was so, so special. when the match was over and we were still there, at the famous Anfield Road, and the Liverpool fans were gone but we were still there, still singing and we were so far away from home and I had to go to work on the next day, but right at that moment, I was in fucking England, at a stadium I’ll probably never visit again, and I was there bcs of my team, bcs they did such a good job, we all were there bcs of this team and it was............................. incredible.

13. What’s your most prized possession in regards to football? priced as in “I could sell this for a bunch of money”? my matchworn jerseys! i guess they’re not that valuable anymore bcs both players left the club quite a while ago but... they’re matchworn and stuff. prized as in emotions? my memories. the love i feel for this fucked up mess which is called my club.

dankeee! ♥

football ask game

[chungledown-bimothy]

Trust Me: Chapter 7

Hey look! A timely update! Consider it a preemptive apology to everyone who loves Logan. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 6 AO3 Chapter 8

Warnings: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF TORTURE and JD is a high schooler. It’s relatively short, and marked by ******* before and after. But it’s for sure there. Oh, and some swearing.

Author’s Note: The German translates to “I speak German too, and I know you killed them.”

Word Count: 2190

Tag List: @ccecode​ @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn​ @ren-allen​ @ilovemygaydad​ @bloodropsblog​ @funsizedgremlin​ @raygelkitty​ @roxiefox23​ @thomasthesandersengine​ @spookyingarbageisland​ @band-be-boss-blog​

15 minutes passed before Logan broke the silence. "I understand that two members of the football team committed suicide two weeks ago. I know that you are new to the school, but it must be difficult nonetheless."

"Not really. I bounce around so much, I don't bother learning names or faces, let alone care about anyone. Besides, I heard they did it because they were gay and too homophobic to deal with it. No major loss there, in my opinion."

"That is… an interesting perspective, JD. I am almost afraid to ask about your thoughts on Heather Chandler's death."

"Sometimes even the shiniest of ivory towers are prisons, I suppose. One has to wonder, though, how much the bullying rate has dropped since she kicked the bucket. I mean, sure, one of the other Heathers is trying to take her place, but even she knows that she'll never measure up." He looked out the window and then back to Logan. "Hang on, I never told you where I live."

"I know where I'm going. What do you know about how Heather, Kurt, and Ram died?"

"If you say so," JD began, hesitantly. "Only what everyone knows. Heather drank drain cleaner, and Kurt and Ram shot each other. I heard someone saying that they used some special kind of bullets called ich lüge."

"Ich spreche auch Deutsch und ich weiß dass Sie sie umgebracht haben."

"H- how could you possibly know that? No one knows that. I was careful. I was perfect."

"Obviously, you were not. If you were truly careful, you would not have said anything about the bullets. You wanted to applaud yourself for being so much smarter than everyone else. You also would not have chosen such an emotionally-driven accomplice. I understand the appeal. We have a lot in common, JD. We both understand that emotion and personal attachments are nothing more than hindrances. But there is that one person who changes all of that. Who makes you want to know how to feel things. But ultimately, they will always choose their emotions over us. I was not completely certain that you killed them until you bragged about the bullets. Killing people who had been cruel towards your person, Miss Sawyer, aroused my suspicions. Rule number one of getting away with murder: only kill people to whom you are not linked."

"It's you, isn't it? The killer everyone's talking about. The Park Puzzler."

"That is the first honest and correct thing you have said all evening." Logan paused, considering JD's words. "Is that really what they are calling us? Disappointing, but not surprising. The best and brightest certainly do not go into journalism."

"You aren't gonna kill me. You said yourself, the first rule of getting away with it is killing strangers." Logan was filled with a savage glee, seeing the terror in his student's eyes, his desperate attempt to save himself.

"In most circumstances, yes, killing you would be a mistake. However, your father is known for leaving town and taking you with him unexpectedly. You have attended 10 high schools, I believe, and it is your senior year? Everyone knows that the killer is punishing people for their unpunished crimes, and how would a simple teacher know what you did? Especially one who does not interact with other teachers, let alone students. No one was around when you got in my car. No one has ever seen us interact outside of the rare occasions you showed up to my class." He sighed when he saw JD reach for the door handle. "Don't be stupid- there is no point in trying to escape. I engaged the child-lock this morning. You cannot open the door from the inside, and breaking through the window is difficult with only a fist for exceptionally strong individuals. Looking at you, I estimate that you have slightly below average upper body strength for an 18-year-old male."

"Well that's awfully rude, teach. So, I'm gonna die. Why? Why not just turn me over to the cops?"

"You are a young, white man who, when you want to, can be quite charismatic. The American justice system is skewed to protect people like you. Even that is predicated on the assumption that a prosecutor would take the case, which is unlikely, given how well you were able to convince everyone that they were suicides. Your kills were cold-blooded with very little motive outside of bloodlust, and you left very little to no evidence. Truthfully, I am rather impressed."

"And we're back to my question. Why do I have to die for doing such good work? You're a killer too. Why should I die, when you're no better than I am? If the papers are accurate, killing me will even up our body counts, so you aren't even better than me on that front."

"The quality of your work was admirable, but it was still wrong. You took three innocent lives, simply because you wanted to. I only kill those whose crimes go unpunished by the corrupt justice system. We are both killers, but my crusade is a righteous one."

"I still don't buy it. I trade in half-truths, straight-up lies, and manipulation, teach, and there's more to it than you're saying. You're gonna kill me anyway, and clearly we aren't to wherever it is you're taking me to do the job. Why not pass the time with a good old-fashioned villain monologue?"

"All will be revealed in due time. I have been reliably informed that people tend to dislike 'spoilers'."

"You're absolutely nuts. You know that, right? You're even more delusional than I am. And that's my self-harm of choice is fucking Slurpees."

"I find it interesting that you truly believe that your obsession with what is colloquially known as 'brain freeze' is less sane than your manipulation of Veronica Sawyer and the cold-blooded murders of your peers."

"Peers? That's bullshit. They were, at best, vapid instruments of the system."

"And for that, they deserved death?"

JD shrugged. "I would do anything to protect Veronica from assholes like that."

"As I would do anything to protect my sibling from a world that turns a blind eye to the crimes of assholes like you. We are at an ideological impasse. That impasse, however, is rendered irrelevant by my superior intellect. Ah, here we are." Before JD could respond, Logan reached across the car and emptied a syringe into his arm.

-

The first thing JD noticed when he came to was the rope around his wrists tying him to a chair. Struggling revealed that his ankles were bound as well, and the chair was bolted to the ground. He was surprised to find that he wasn't gagged. Looking around, he reasoned he could only be in a warehouse, and it was empty except for him and a video camera. He continued to struggle against his restraints, barely noticing when the rope burn broke his skin. He was also hungry, and his mouth felt like sandpaper.

"How long was I out?" JD croaked, unsure if anyone was there.

"Approximately eighteen hours. It is 2pm on Saturday." JD jumped, not expecting Logan's voice to be so close behind him. "You are in luck. Normally, Patton would take a turn with you before I do anything, but they are… otherwise occupied. You should thank me- you will be useless to them once I have started with you, let alone finished. I am saving you potentially weeks of agony. The last one took a week and a half to learn his lesson. Only then could I begin my experiments."

"Experiments? What the fuck are you going to do to me?"

"As many things as you can endure."

"Why? Why not just kill me and get it over with? Satisfy your 'righteous crusade' without wasting time."

"And waste the opportunity to study how much the human body can endure? I think not. In all honesty, I care about the cause far less than Patton does. As I said, you will be spared their particular brand of torture, both physical and mental. I can only imagine what they'd do to you, given the fact that you murdered children, despite being a child yourself."

"We were all 18. Technically not children. Why, may I ask, won't I have the pleasure of making their acquaintance? They sound absolutely delightful."

"I am not surprised that your listening skills are subpar. They have other business to attend to."

"They're with someone, aren't they? That's why you've got such a big bug up your ass about emotional attachments and me and Veronica. It's rebellious child 101, teach. Lash out to get their attention. You aren't the center of their universe any more, and it's eating you alive." Logan flinched, and JD smirked; he'd hit his mark.

"Those who speak of what they know find too late that prudent silence is wise. This is doubly true for children who know nothing." He raised a hand, cutting JD off. "No more talking. Feel free to scream, however. Your responses will be recorded on that camera," he pointed, "and further analyzed later. I tend to get… distracted in the moment."

Logan briefly returned to the shadows of the warehouse before returning with a tank that seemed to be smoking. "This, JD, is liquid nitrogen. You mentioned your fondness for cold-induced pain. Let us see how you feel about it in the extreme. And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest."

****************************

He put on thick gloves and an apron before opening the lid and pulling out a ladle full of liquid nitrogen. Very carefully, he stepped forward and slowly emptied the ladle onto JD's arm.

The first drops hit JD's skin with a sizzle, causing JD to flinch. That flinch quickly turned into convulsions and a scream he didn't know he was capable of making when the stream grew thicker. It burned. Every second was more painful than the last. He was on the edge of unconsciousness when the agony stopped getting worse- Logan had stopped pouring. JD didn't know how long he sat there, face contorted with pain, before he was able to open his eyes and look at his arm. He immediately wished he hadn't. From wrist to elbow, his arm was mostly violently red and blistered. What truly horrified him, however, were the areas that weren't red at all, but were an unnatural grayish-yellow.

***************************

"That is third degree frostbite. Those uniquely discolored areas should turn black over the course of our time together." JD tried to scream, to swear, to cry, but he couldn't. He was hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea when he tried to open his mouth. "Ah yes, that would be the shock setting in. Breathe with me, JD. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight." Logan led him through the breathing exercise until he returned to a slightly more normal temperature. "Well done. Keep focusing on your breathing; I will be right back with some first aid."

"Wh- why bother?" JD asked when Logan returned without his gloves and apron, carrying a first aid kit. "Why not let me die from this?"

Logan gently began heating the frostbite with a warm, wet towel before responding. "There are more experiments to run. Even if this was the only one I had planned for you, seeing how it heals is a crucial part of the process. My goal isn't killing you. My goal is observing how the human body reacts to and recovers from various extreme stimuli. Letting you die would be extremely counterproductive. For now, at least." Logan began wrapping JD's arm with bandages. "There we go. That should be adequate to keep you alive and will hopefully prevent gangrene. The point is to study frostbite, not gangrene."

"Why thank you." JD smirked the best he could, but even he knew that it was, at best, a pitiful attempt.

"You certainly are strong, JD. Most people would not dare being sarcastic in the face of their torturer. Drink this." Logan demanded, holding a water bottle to his lips. "Good. I suggest you get comfortable. I will be back tomorrow to change your bandages and check on you. Can't have you dying before I allow it."

-

Sunday

"Oh Logan, he's absolutely wonderful. He's so smart, kind, and handsome. He didn't even blink when he learned my pronouns! And he said the most beautiful things about Monet and Impressionism. Aahh, I wish I could stay and tell you all about it and him, but I have to spend some time at the coffee shop- between our work and Virgil, I haven't spent nearly enough time there!" Patton got to the door before turning around. "Oh, and I'd love to know what you were up to yesterday- I called, but you didn't answer or call me back. That's why I had to come check on you before going to work. I'll be back around eight tonight, okay? See you then!" Patton was out the door before Logan could respond. Eleven hours. Plenty of time to tend to JD and come up with a convincing lie.