#i looove drawing people just standing around its great

[pinnipedia-art]

delta runes

[thatbanjobusiness]

Ok so i was stuck in a rut for music to listen to while working (working form home man...busy season just gets to ya quicker) and as a follower of this account i thought “lets try out bluegrass! Haddock says its cool, and ive heard a banjo before, see what that does” so i find a version of foggy mountain breakdown and about keeled over when steve martin was in it (Fun fact for the uninformed such as mysef, steve martin plays the banjo lol) and i’m like oh that was fun! So youtube took me to one of those hour long compilations of flatt and scruggs songs and i was like oh that was fun! So i’ve been interspersing some bluegrass into my work playlist (thank you much for the introduction!)

Now the real reason i’m sending this message is because i finally got around to watching a video of the supposed original 1949 recording of Foggy Mountain Breakdown and

DUDE.

WTF.

ITS GLORIOUS.

Earl Scruggs in his prime is absolutely wild, i see why you keep yacking about him, ITS AMAZING🤩🤩🤩 like just, the energy and just like, idk man its simultaneously relaxing and energizing. How does that even work?? I dont know lol but yeah, thanks for sharing this corner of the music world with us, its been fun😁 lol

Hgnghgngngngngh oh m;y gosh. Oh my gosh. I’m sorry for taking this long to respond, but I want to say, from Day One when I received your message, I was STOKED. Thanks for making my day! I took so long to respond because I was trying to make sure I DIDN’T write too long an essay of excited babbling in return (but at least I should start our conversation, so here we go!).

The original Foggy Mountain Breakdown is so freaktastically good and I would love to write an analysis on why every musical element combines to a perfect finish. For instance, one thing I find perfect about Foggy Mountain Breakdown’s 1949 recording is that this arrangement is like a tense duel: the bass driving forward with repeated notes to add drama, while the banjo and fiddle square off against each other, and the banjo wins the fight (great fiddling by Benny Sims here, of course, too, but the banjo won the fight). That banjo sparkles, man. I want to emphasize all the more that Earl Scruggs in his prime in the late 1940s and early 50s was playing bounds ahead of most others, so just imagine how that would’ve sounded in context where people weren’t used to hearing a three-string banjo like that at all! The fact that seventy years later, after everyone’s figured out tons more techniques for the banjo, after we’ve gotten hundreds of new skilled professional musicians and better recording equipment... we’re still blown away by THIS MUSIC... speaks to how timeless the music is and how alluring Earl’s banjo playing truly is.

Now. I looove what you said about “simultaneously relaxing and energizing.” I feel that too when I listen to Flatt & Scruggs! For the high majority of their repertoire! And for that matter that goes for many first generation bluegrass artists. The reason I draw to first gen is that I find it the perfect combination of down-home heart and technical skill.

They’re performing music with simple lyrics, basic chord progressions, and easy-to-sing-along-with melodies. It’s simple, homey, and familiar there: these are songs we might sing at church, or old folk song recitations, or are just good everyday man songs about everyday human things. So it makes the music relaxing. But at the same time, these are musicians who brought a heightened caliber of technical skill, improvisation, and intensity to the string band format. They understand drive. I forgot where it was I read this, but someone said first gen bluegrass performers didn’t have to do anything more than stand onstage with a serious face and play their music, because their music alone was enough to excite audiences. And there’s truth in that. The music isn’t so rhythmically complicated it takes a music degree or a heavy-concentrating arts lover to parse what’s being played... it’s not inaccessible like that. But it’s SKILLED. The music is improvised with gripping skill, speed, technicality, musicality, heart, and genuine homegrown talent. 

And ergo, hearing a man tear through his banjo at eleven notes per second while hitting every note with machine-gun precision, separating melody from background, and adding a whole ton of gripping melodic motion, can’t help but be exciting. For me, a band like Flatt & Scruggs, of which extraordinarily talented instrumentalists like Earl Scruggs, Josh Graves, Benny Martin, and Paul Warren existed, has that perfect match of “whoa” talent and comforting homeliness.

ANYWAY.

If you are still checking out Flatt & Scruggs intermittently as you go about your listening life, but you’re not sure what to hone in on, the first album by Flatt & Scruggs I’d throw at anyone would be Foggy Mountain Jamboree. There’s an extended edition of it released in 2005, I believe, that makes it even better. This album is Flatt & Scruggs from their mid-50s period, and it alternates between some of their best and most well-known instrumentals, with a variety of damn solid and memorable sung tunes, too. It is the perfect representation of what F&S is as a band. For people wanting just instrumental, Foggy Mountain Banjo from 1961 is a godsend album for banjo pickers.

As for my personal favorite period? I’ve got two. For recorded audio, Flatt & Scruggs’s vintage years are my favorite listens. All their Mercury Record releases are spectacular, their early Columbia stuff is GREAT. I listen to it constantly. But I have a huge heart for a specific band lineup that was consistent between the mid 50s to early 60s, I’ve seen a ton of videos of them (DON’T GET ME STARTED ON WHY I LOVE THE VIDEOS), and when I think of Flatt & Scruggs, I think of those six men. Those boys are my quintessential Foggy Mountain Boys. If you want to watch videos, seeing the black and white videos of them are going to be that period, and there’s a ton of personality and charm there because you can tell they all love each other and have a hoot playing with each other.

ANYWAY THAT IS ENOUGH BABBLING FOR NOW. Feel free to chat right back at me! I’ll be here, as you know. XD

[phinniasart]

Denna and Frey- Backstory and Supports

I was very productive today and actually translated the third part too!! Frey belongs to me, Denna to @soundlessroom !

Backstory: | Part 1 | | Part 2 | | Part 3 |

Teresa laughed about Denna: “That's what you dreamed?” Denna felt how, with every near desperate gasp of air between the laughs of her friend, her face heated up bit by bit. “I'm never going to tell you about my dreams ever again!” “No!”, Teresa interrupted her instantly, “Love is something wonderful! It surely happened because your room smells like those roses.” “It's not love! I don't even know the guy...”

“Denna is in looove, Denna is in looove~”, Teresa started to sing in a childishly mocking tone. To her fortune, Denna's performance was the next one and so she was able to flee from the mockery for some time. But Frey's words the day before made the others sing a song that they would rub under her nose for the rest of her days. Even after denying that something like that ever happened several times.

Looking up to you, when are you alone? When will the light of your room go out? as you finally stand in front of me and raise your finger to your lips.

We run hand in hand. The moon shines flat and looks down at us the place is empty not a single soul to be found, only the sea is wild, brought up by the wind that messed up your hair, I look into your eyes and am mesmerized. I don't ever want to go, let time stop here and now.

Once more, Frey stood up in the box in company of his master, once more he wore his usual smile. Last night had been one of the few nights that he had slept without any nightmares nor punishment to torture him. For a long time he had not felt as... alive as right now. “Milord, before the show is to start, do you plan to send a present for the dancers again?”, he asked carefully. It would be better to do so now than in the middle of the song, he thought.

Alden laughed. This was far too easy. “Well thought. But a woman of her class surely has enough flowers. Think of something worthwhile, it should impress her. And now go, I want to enjoy the show.” With a flick of his wrist he shushed Frey away, but instead of enjoying the show as he had said, he went through his ideas how he could punish that lass for her behaviour as well as Frey properly. Maybe … no. It was too early for that.

Frey nearly jumped outside to look around. Like a child filled with happiness standing in a candy shop. Just that it was buying the sweets for its dearest person, not for itself. “... What would impress her …? She doesn't get much pleasure from jewelery and dresses... maybe... parfume...? I would have to get it mixed, but it would definitly be worth more than something she would need her eyes for ...” He rubbed his chin while thinking. “... Parfume … And tea! Of course- smells and tastes! Two birds with one stone!” His grin grew wider and wider as he got on his way to the fitting stores. Hopefully it would make her smile. He really wanted to see her smile the way she did the day before.

Denna fell onto a chair as soon as she had reached the dressing room. Proper sleep seemed to have a sluggish body as a draw back. Love. What kind of moments are the ones you fall in love in? And why did she recall those moments when they mocked each other now? Wait, why were there even those moments to recall? After the first performance of a certain someone had ended, Frey made his way to the room of the dancers, a small, cutely adorned bag in his hands. He cleared his throat a little before knocking against the door. “Denna? Are you there?”, he called carefully, not loud enough to disturb the dancers on the stage but just loud enough for her to possibly hear him. He grinned from ear to wear, his eyes sparkling. His heart beat higher, and he hadn't been this nervous in a long time. Would she like his choices? “Frey?” Again? Two days in a row? Had she known that he would come then she wouldn't have changed her clothes alreads. She must have looked terrible. But she did not want to make him wait either. “Come in. There's no one here.” Why did she say that? Was it of any matter? She should at least tie up her hair fastly … Frey fixed the scarf around his neck before he entered and closed the door behind himself. His gaze wandered until it spotted her, and he walked over to her to sit down on the chair that he had already sat on yesterday. The fact that they were alone again calmed him a little. “You might be able to guess it already,” he started to talk, calm, but it was difficult to hide the nervousness, “I brought something with me again.” He still smiled brightly.

“You know that you visiting me is already gift enough?” She stretched out her hand into his direction. “May I touch you again?” She deliberately chose those words to remind him of his own from the day before. “Or would you rather describe yourself to me? We are surrounded by mirrors I believe. They reflect an exact copy of ones looks, isn't that a strange invention?” She pulled back her hand. “A gift from you master, or one that you picked?” Frey's cheeks burned a bright red as he was reminded of his failure of the past day. But in the end he just laughed about it. “I'm not very good when it comes to describing, even with a mirror at hand – feel free to embrace me if you want.”, he answered with a relaxed and amused tone of voice.

“But only if I am allowed to give you your present first. My master assigned me to bring it to you, but once more it was me that made the choice what it should be … It's very interesting to think about what you can enjoy and what not, you know?” He smiled on as he reached the bag to her. “All that closes it is a small bow- I think you will be able to identify the gifts yourself.”

Her fingers tugged at the end of the bow until the small package came undone. “You're the first one who says that it is interesting … most find it complicated and annoying … huh?” She pulled out another package at first. “If there is another once inside then you tricked me...” But it was made out of a different kind of paper this time. She opened another ribbon and a pleasant scent started to spread. “Tea? You brought me tea?” She felt a lump form in her throat and her eyes got watery. “I can't believe it... I will never be able to drink this tea! When it's ready, what am I supposed to do? Or can I use it as a trick to get you to come here to make me fresh tea?” “I wouldn't mind coming over more often to brew it for you.”, he answered with a grin. “If you want to I can make some while you feel the second part of the gift and try it maybe?” Above all else he was a butler in the end. If there wa something he was good at, then it was brewing tea and coffee. He carefully took the package away from her. He would have to find out where they had a kettle in here. “That would be wonderful! My throat his hoarse from singing … A kettle should be in the second room. I'll follow you- I can still feel up on the present here too.” “All right. I hope I made a good choice in regards to both presents.” While they went to said room, Frey , with his heart beating so fast he felt like it may burst, caressed over her palm in gentle circles. “Hm? A flask?” She let her fingers draw lines over the contures of the bottle while her other hand held Freys. Letting go of it didn't come to her mind at that point. “What's this … shape … I think it's that of a star, isn't it?” She started to smile. “Those are glowing dots on the night sky...” How much did she wish to be able to see them, maybe she would understand those hints he gave her a little more? Her fingers found their way to the cork and opened it skillfully. Parfume. It was parfume. It smelled like lavender and something sweet that she hadn't experieced yet- tender, and yet with a certain memorability. “This isn't fair … you always make me cry ...” She wasn't even able to warn him anymore as the tears started falling. She loved it so much- the way the stimulated her senses as if it was the most normal thing in the world when it was the first time in her life that someone but her mother did this for her.

“Stars aren't just dots on the night sky- They move above us, and people use them to find their way back home when they are lost. The brightest of them is called the morning star. It always stands in the north of the sky and all other stars turn around it.” Frey wished he would be able to show her the nightsky … and the clouds, and everything around them … He sighed a little. “And … I had to remember your scent from the dance back then. It was a little difficult, but I found that lavender, vanilla and a scent similar to that of the white roses from the garden of the mansion would fitting, but not overly tacky.” The butler talked in a calm voice- But as he saw that she started crying again panic took over. He was confused at first but ended up putting his arms around her and hugging her in a soft gesture. “I'm sorry... Making you cry was the last thing I wanted to accomplish ...” Denna shook her head. “No … I'm happy … Sorry … your gifts really are wonderful … it's not something that will catch dust or sounds nice … it's as if you are able to understand me. They really are great gift-” Her voice faltered as she noticed that she was lying in his arms, that she felt his warmth. “Frey...” Her pulse was frantic, her cheeks heated up and the tears dried up. She was sure that Frey was able to feel how her heart wanted to burst out of her chest right now.

“Then I fulfilled my task sucessfully.”, he reciprocated with a smile. They had never been this close, not even during their dance back then, and excitement flodded his body has he realized what was actually happening right now. But despite that, he didn't let go. Rather the exact opposite was the case: He pulled her a little closer, hid a part of is face in her hair. “Denna ...” Something about this embrace felt so terribly right. He wished he wouldn't have to go soon, back to his master, back to his duties, but that he would be able to stay with her. Follow her, run away from the cruelties of his house. Protect her. And not the heads of that disgusting noble house. A sigh fell off his lips before he slowly loosened his grasp around her. Right. He shouldn't get too attached to her. This wouldn't have a happy end. “To come back to the tea”, he changed topic more or less skilfully and looked around a little, “Where can I find a kettle now?”

Which- oh right, the tea. “In one of the upper cupboards. I'm only rarely in here.” As Frey loosened his grasp the memories of her dream last night returned to her. Should she apologize to him? After all, the last approach had ended in the worst way possible. Denna thought how to somehow counter the tension that was building up with a joke, a comment, maybe a gesture, but the longer she tried to push the dream away the more dominant it got. Hopefully Frey wasn't able to read faces the way her friends were.

He gave her a short nod and looked around in said cupboards. He was tall enough to reach them easily – he knew very well how much his fellow servants cursed him for not needing a stool and for not having to stretch his body fot every single inch. As Frey finally held the kettle in his hands his gaze wandered back to Denna, and he felt nervousness rising again. What was that expression? Did he do something wrong? Was the embrace a bad idea? “Are you alright?”, he asked with care as he filled the boiler with some water from a nearby barrel, filtered the water through a small strainer and put it over a fire that he had lit with a match. Sometimes he wished that he was able to make use of fire magic.

“Yes, of course. I just had a conversation with my friends before my performance, and it came back into my mind.” She stepped a little close again, nearly enough that she would touch him if she took a deep breath. “Maybe you can teach me how to make tea some day? I'm sure you can think of a way how even I can do it.” For a second she could hear Teresas voice at the back fo her mind singing 'Marriage, marriage!' and that Frey should just cook tea for her forever. Even when her friend wasn't here she still wasn't safe from her comments. Frey opened the package of tea and measured the proper amount of tea with utmost care, nearly nitpicky. Habit. Good one or bad one? He didn't really know. He started to talk as soon as he was ready and had to wait for the water to boil. He wasn't able to talk while being absolutely concentrated. “Oh, of course! It would be my pleasure to make tea for you more often, as well as showing you how to do it.”, he answered with a vivid smile. Her proximity wasn't unpleasant to him in any way. It was rather the exact opposite. It felt so familiar, and pleasant. “I will think of a way how someone without eyesight can do it. I don't want you to burn yourself on the hot kettle after all.” Would they see each other more often? “Does that mean you will come more often?” Denna rose her hand and felt over his broad shoulder, up to his throat, felt his adam's apple and ended up with her index finger at his chin. She could very well have guessed where his face was by just the width of his shoulders, but that was far too easy and she started to enjoy Frey's reactions. “I like it when you are happy.”, she murmured while the back of her hand caressed over his lips.

Frey shuddered a little at her touch. No one else would he ever give the possibility to embrace such vulnerable parts of his body- some would have taken the opportunity to just crack his neck. Usually he would have snapped and turned the tables, but... With her, it was something else entirely. “I would love to, but I fear that my situation doesn't allow it. I haven't been as happy as I've been with you for a very, very long time.” He smiled again, felt her touch on his lips. The butler closed his eyes, just as he had done the last time, and took a deep breath. His heartbeat became regular, calm, and he found it in himself to relax. “You can't just say things like that, Frey.” Denna started laughing: “I don't fall for words like that normally, but I fear you are the exception.” Her hand wandered to his cheek, and her fingers started curling seperate strands. “Imagine if I fall for them and you never return? I would search for you and get my revenge... with overcooked tea that you would have to drink, the whole kettle!” Frey too started laughing and leaned against the counter behind him. “Then I would drink the whole kettle and never leave afterwards.”, he responded with a playful grin. “But last time I said we would see each other again I ended up being right. So why shouldn't I be right this second time too?” He imitated her gesture, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. Even after an exhausting show like this, even in simple clothing, she was still as breathtaking as on the party back then. It was sad that she wouldn never really realize her own beauty. “And then I will cook all tea in this world for you.” “Promise? Never again? I wouldn't mind a tall, nice man with pleasant voice taking care of me.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, a tall, nice child with the voice of a grown man.” Whenever Frey spoke she could feel the vibrations of his throat. Only few men were able to reach this pitch, and even fewer men that weren't singers. “That makes me think … Are you a singer too? It would explain some things.”

“And I wouldn't mind to take care of a warm-hearted, beautiful woman with a good character.” Frey's face turned a little red as he answered her. Why did these crossetings feel so natural? “And … I am in no way a singer. But I have the habit of singing when I am alone. As highest servant I am awake before everyone else and the silence in the whole building is unpleasant for me, especially since I fulfill most duties alone.” At some point his voice had become his only companion.

“In that case I have to write a song for you so you don't have to feel alone anymore. Then go ahead and tell me about your hobbies and thoughts so I can write the text to fit you.” The tea started to fill the room with a soothing scent. “What have you been thinking about lately?” Maybe she should tell him that it should be something beautiful. She didn't want to create a requiem after all, but rather a nocturne to raise his mood. “It would be an honor to sing a song that you wrote for me, so...” Frey cleared his throat. Was he even worth of something like that? Ah, butter by the fish, that didn't matter now anyways. “Would you be angry when I told you that it's you I've been thinking about?” Although he knew that she wasn't able to see him, he averted his gaze until it fell to the ground. All this time they had mocked each other without any shame, but now the warmth was starting to fill his cheeks.

Her fingers stopped swirling around his hair. “I hope they are beautiful thoughts. Of how gorgeous I look, and how my voice sounds like angels!” Athen she started to chuckle. “Songs like that are the ones I do best.” Though she just cited what she heard from the nobles. What did it mean to look beautiful? Who decided if a voice was pleasant or not? As long as those people weren't as dependant on it as she was. Why did he think about her? It had only been playful wars of words she had tried to fight with him. As highest member of the servantship he probably had a lot of girls and boys that were nice to him? Some that … were closer to his age? And why did she just try to talk his feelings smaller? Or weren't it his feelings that she tried to hide? What kind of moments are those you fall in love in … she had asked herself today. This was definitly one of them.

Of course they were beautiful ones. But if I started counting them they I wouldn't finish today.” Frey jumped as the kettle behind him started to whistle and swirled around within a few seconds to, with the help of a handkerchief, carefully pour the boiling hot water over the carefully dosed tea that rested in the cups in small metal eggs. The clear fluid started to take a warm, golden color in an instant. He would have loved to show her- the sight always made him excited. The tea would only need a short time. It was an Oolong with orange petals. Two minutes or it would turn bitter. “Good... everything went smoothly. When I started out I aciddently poured water over my hands or lap all the time.” He laughed about the memory, although there was nothing funny to it.

“That sounds terrible...” Denna's face lost color at the imagination. “Which hand was it?” “Both. Several times. On top of that, the punishments.”, he answered with a voice that sounded free of worry. He was used to the pain, and it had gotten so normal that he forgot that it actually wasn't. “I always wear gloves. That's why you weren't able to feel the scars.” And it was better like this. She should stay as far away as possible from his experiences.

“I understand.” Denna felt up to one of his hands, started to carefully take off one of the gloves. “I'm so sorry...” She lead the hand to her lips, gently pressing them against the scars she felt while she spoke under her breath. “If you need someone to talk to … or someone to kiss you wounds, I'll be here.” She laughed for a moment and kissed his hand. “My mother used to kiss my injuries all the time. It was like a magic spell and the pain was gone.” Frey smiled, but pulled his hand back and put the glove back one. “It's fine. They are just scars, and I have to deal with the pain of new wounds myself. May it be staff, bandage or kiss, I am not allowed to accept help or I will be punished for it once more.” He took out the tea eggs as he noticed that it had drawn and taken just the right color. “Tea is ready. Do you like it a little swetened? With milk? Or do you prefer it as it is?” “Hmm... I will drink it as it is for now. You chose it after all.” While she followed his reactions attentively the words for the song were coming together by themselves. “You should learn braille so you can actually read it. I don't know how I will have it sent to you, but is there a place that you have to go to more often? I could leave it there...” She accepted the cup of tea gratefully and let the scent fill her lungs. “Thank you, for you considerate presents.” The tea warmed her body and the taste was pleasant. Would she have to sort Frey's voice to a taste, it would be this tea. Rumbling applause was to be heard. Frey had to go. “The tea is wonderful.” “I'm glad that you like I-” Frey turned around the instant the applause started. The people called for an encord, but he wouldn't have a lot of time nevertheless. “Ah, my time is up … Denna, we will meet again. Maybe tomorrow, maybe only in a few months. I … I hope you'll attend the next ballroom dance. But in the end, the invitiation is not within my powers.” That wasn't fully right. His master usually didn't like to get his hands dirty, and if it was just ink. Not even the signum was made by him. Every word of the invitation was written by Frey. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to sneak one to Denna in. “I can't await the time to come. And don't forget, I'll come find you with badlyy brewed tea if you have me wait for too long.” Denna put the cup to her side. “Try the tea for yourself before you go.” Her hand rested on Frey's cheek as she pulled him down. Soft, but determined. And just as the drop of tea was barely held up by both of their lips the door to the dressing room opened with a crash. “OOOOH. We didn't want to dist- hm? Where are they?” Denna made a large step backwards in shock, thankful that no one had witnessed that she had just tried to kiss an adolescent … Why did she have to count as an adult today? Yesterday it would have been fine! Frey was irritated at first. but ended up grinning, licking the small drop of tea off his lips. He leaned forward, his breath against her ear. “I did well, the tea is perfect.” He cleared his throat once more as soon as he stood up straight again, bowed in front of her and placed a kiss upon the back of her hand. Oh gods, his heart was beating far too fast. He had to calm down as soon as he could. “I hope we'll meet again soon, Milady. I really wouldn't like to drink a kettle of badly made tea.” And with that comment he pressed another quick kiss to her cheek and left the room with quick steps- yet inevitably greeting the other dancers on his way. As soon as he was back in the box his expression was back to his usual smile and he brought Alden message that everything went smoothly.

Earsplitting squealing filled the whole room and before Denna could even comprehend Frey's words properly she had already been surrounded. By questions that she didn't have an answer for, or that she would love the hear one herself. Frey's face reminded him of when the boy had only just joined their... family. The time had come. “Frey, do you think she would visit another party?” Frey was surprised to hear Alden bring it up on his own accord. But he didn't mind it. Not in the least. After all, he had just thought about it minutes ago. “I think she would come should she receive an invitation, yes.”, he answered quite sure of himself. Past this day, he couldn't stop hoping that they might meet again very soon.

[zevons]

what are your favorite EVERRRRR football fics?

The first thing I did when I saw this in my inbox was zip over to my handy dandy excel doc of fics I like and filter for football rpf.

WOW, okay self. So I scrolled through and opened up the ones I remembered particularly adoring, trying to be selective and

…alright then.

So what you see here is a list, painstakingly teased out and compiled and highly angsted over! There are so many excellent fics out there, goddamn. These are the ones that I return to over and over, and I also tried to get a good cross-section of some of my favourite pairings, because honestly I have 43 gerlonso fics alone to choose from and wanted to get a wider selection. (Also hey, my excellent followers! Please add what fics I’ve forgotten/whack me over the head with a newspaper for leaving out your faves.)

As Far As You and Me Go - distira: Pep Guardiola/José MourinhoFULL DISCLOSURE: I AM SO WEAK FOR THIS ~NARRATIVE IT IS EMBARRASSING. It’s so trope-y it could have been scripted for television. And this is, imo, the best fic out there for them, and a brilliant read besides. Even if you’re not into the pairing I can’t recommend it enough, as by nature of the ship it’s sort of the opposite of a getting-together story. (Also Sharon refused to read it for ages and ages bc ew, Mou, but I broke her down and she agreed it was good SO THERE.) The slow collapse of their relationship, the underlying nastiness on both sides, the scheming, conniving…this is the perfect example of ‘like a trainwreck; it’s terrible but you cannot look away’. You just have to keep on reading in a sort of fascinated horror as they go about carving their way through to their various victories, and at the end it’s impossible to be sure that they’ve even lost anything of value. If someone asked me to explain José Mourinho to them, I would probably give them Jonathan Wilson’s excellent article in the actual, real life Guardian, and this fic. SERIOUS BUSINESS. 

Being Young and Famous is Not a Consolation Prize - synaesthetical: Thomas MüllerA lot of these fics are Spain/England-based, but do not be fooled. On my deathbed, when my family is gathered around my withered corpse, weeping as I slowly fade from this life, one of my favoured great-grandchildren will ask, ‘Sabina, did you lead a happy life? What was your finest moment?’ And I will gaze up at the ceiling through my cataracts and say, smiling with true joy, ‘Yes, my life was fulfilled. Germany won the World Cup in 2014.’ AND THEN I WILL DIE. This particular fic is not about 2014, it is about 2010, but the point stands. If you love Germany NT, or feel, y’know, not hatred towards them, then please read it because it captures so wonderfully the tone of that tournament and that squad. Old enough to know better, but young enough to have a second chance when the time comes. This is one of those fics that I think really exemplifies not only a good story, but a good piece of football writing as well. That World Cup feeling, deliriously, dangerously happy, and at the same time how deadly serious this is. How deadly serious football is. It’s light, lovely writing, and it hits hard. 

eDisharmony - ascience: Benedikt Höwedes/Mats HummelsI’m not even going to pretend like this fic doesn’t hold the massive cool award of being the fic that inspired me to get back into writing. I gotta love myself, yknow! It’d been five-ish years since I’d written any fic of substance (I think I only posted about 4,000 words in total in that time) and then wham, I read this fic, fell entirely in love, and decided to jump on the train. And just so you know I’m not entirely biased, I reread it like a week ago and yes, it’s still hilarious, 10/10 would restart my fic career again. The dialogue and the pacing bounce along so gleefully in this story, you really have to be eating popcorn while reading. There’s a wonderfully joyful irreverence and so many shenanigans. Sooo many shenanigans. The style of the humour is also just infectious. It’s fun, there’s no better way to say it. This is a fun fic. It also has the added pleasure of reminding me just why I love/hate forums. Ohhh forums. Bring back forums! I’ve lurked on ONTD-F too long to ever properly participate and r/soccer is full of manchildren. 

Filling Up the Space - luxover: Xabi Alonso/Steven GerrardThis isn’t exactly what you would think of as ‘traditional’ gerlonso (and forreal, it’s such an Institution by this point that it’s practically spawned its own subgenres. That’s when you know a pairing has really made it.) and so it’s always stuck out to me. It’s mean, in a way that this pairing usually isn’t, and I find it absolutely fascinating. I also love this Steven; a bit harsher, a bit harder, a bit more destructive than usually shows up in fic. I mention it later down this list in a different rec but fic!Stevie has a tendency to become a bit soppy, and this is a man who would kill for his club, grim but determined. This is a divorce fic, more or less, and the way that it pulls all the threads apart to show why they were woven together in the first place is…I don’t want to say chilling, because that makes it sound like a horror story or something, but it definitely gives you pause. Idk, I just really appreciate it. (By the way it does have a happy ending, if a lack thereof would have turned you off. On the other hand, if you’ve been jaded to gerlonso and are just sick to the teeth of them, this might be the thing to draw you back in! Incredibly compelling read.)

Good Timing - Ferritin4: Xabi Alonso/Steven GerrardI couldn’t even tell you how many times I’ve read this fic. I love future fic, love love looove it, and this is possiblymaybedefinitely my favourite of the genre. Xabi is managing Real Madrid and Stevie is a pundit and it is glorious. Their voices are so perfectly written, it’s the kind of fic where I have to set aside twice as long to read it as I usually would, because I inevitably end up reading and rereading almost every line, just to really savour the dialogue and the pacing. And the pining! Oh, the pining. Stevie and Xabi are so perfectly characterised, and in such generous characters. That’s really the only way I can think to describe them. Generous. The fic is warm and funny, and so comfortable. You can really tell that they’ve been friends for decades, and how deeply important that friendship has been to both of them. Also did I mention the pining? Oh god, the pining. It is delicious. 

look back in anger - neyvenger: Jamie Carragher/Gary NevilleIf you like rivalshipping and you haven’t read any Carraville fics, WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING. I don’t care if you’re only vaguely, guiltily fond of Liverpool and still haven’t forgiven Manchester United for doing All That Winning in the most formative years of your footballing life, filling you with the kind of simmering rage that probably won’t go away until you die. (What, talking from experience? Nah m8, this is a hypothetical. Haha. Hah. sigh) I don’t care!! It’s a great pairing that managed to escape the boundaries of being a crack ship and has somehow strayed dangerously close to being the best ship in the business! And if you like Carraville and haven’t read this fic, THEN I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY TO YOU UNTIL YOU SIT YOURSELF DOWN AND READ IT. There’s time-travel! There’s enemies-to-friends-to-enemies-to-friends! Bb!Carra putting in tackles! At one point David Beckham is described as having “the air of a lazy cat”, which made my deep and enduring crush on said David Beckham cry out for mercy. THIS FIC HAS EVERYTHING.

Sandbox - scheherazade: Michael Ballack/Alexi LalasDo you like nonsense? Do you like obnoxious Americans? Do you like obnoxious Germans? How about a lot of insufferability on both sides, a whole lot of pigtail pulling, and people being Wrong in football analysis? Then this pairing is for you! Micha was my first football crush and I will forever thank whoever decided that he would make a good analysis partner for Alexi Lalas. There’s something so great about that footage from 2012, whenever Alexi says something and you can actually witness the incredulity in Michael’s face as he prepares to utterly and irrefutably shoot down whatever ridiculous statement he’s just heard. God bless! I just love these confrontational ships. They deserve a mountain of fic but with ones as good as this, I’m satisfied. They dance the line between dickiness and idiocy with such delight, you almost find yourself rooting against them because they probably don’t deserve it, even if good-hearted golden retriever Taylor Twellman is pulling for those crazy kids. This is a funny fic, and they’re such a wonderful odd couple, but if you’re like me and are consistently being emotionally tortured by the 2006 World Cup/Euro 2008/Michael Ballack’s general life and career, then you will also appreciate the underlying disappointment of a man behind a desk when he just wants to be out on the grass. 

Supertyp - imkerin: Pep Guardiola/Philipp LahmLAUGHS WILDLY INTO THE VOID OHHHH MY GOD this fic exposed me for the wreck of human being that I am, because I seriously seriously did not mean to ship this beyond like, a thought experiment, and then this fic happened and I was forced to come to terms with the fact that wow, I am All About This. Pep and Philipp’s mutual appreciation society finds its beginnings, Pep is exploratory, Philipp is cautious, José Mourinho is a ruinous individual who knows just when and where to twist the knife, I am fired into the sun by the United Nations for being entirely not okay. I was vaguely keeping it together until this fic. And so naturally, I reread it like, every other week. Every word is perfectly placed and every exchange is shoot to kill. The characters in this fic don’t do anything out of the ordinary for their jobs, but you get the sense that if they were in politics or poisons they would be frightening. 

they were a long hallway - madanach: Bastian Schweinsteiger/Lukas PodolskiTen years for this shit, man. Schweinski is one of those long-term, rock solid ships that you can rely on to like, have made you dinner when you get home from a twelve hour shift and pour you a fourth glass of wine without asking if you’ve maybe had too much. It’s always gonna be there, even though they’ve had their shaky moments. Despite those shaky moments and a lot of awkward growing up, it’s also a ship that can somehow seem easy. It can somehow seem like they don’t have to work for it. This fic has them work for it. There’s messiness and idiocy and some amazing fun times and some shitty low times. This fic is like the Bildungsroman for schweinski. It’s not clear-cut and it’s not straightforward: in life you get all tangled up and are sometimes tempted to just chop your way out, Gordian Knot-style, but you just can’t do that, y’know? This fic does such a good job with the tangling and the untangling, I feel like it validates a lot of the nonsense I got into in my Youth. Even though I’ll probably never win the World Cup as payoff, but still.

This Bitch of a Country - Rave: Xabi Alonso/Steven Gerrard[quiet wailing noise] nnngnggjhgn okay I said I was going to try and mix up the ships in this list but look!! look. Gerlonso is like, the ultimate holy fucking grail and there’re simply too many good fics not to throw more than one in here. Also it would be a crime not to include this one, which manages to be hilarious and heartbreaking, comforting and cruel, all at once. There’s something about mid-2000s Liverpool that will never fail to make my breath catch, this sort of tragic magnificence that achieved so goddamn much and yet…and yet. (Read this fantastic article from gone-too-soon Grantland, because this fic understands that atmosphere. Also I blame Thierry Henry entirely for validating my soft spot for this club. He set such a precedent!) There’s familiarity here, and anger, and the sort of hopeless love that makes you want to weep your goddamn eyes out. This fic manages to show the hurt on both sides without woobifying anyone out of recognition (and look…I love a good woobie as much as the next person but sometimes gerlonso gets skewed a bit too much in one direction or the other, with Stevie either being a helpless weepy ruin or Xabi being run out of everyone’s hearts on a rail, which can be great if you’re in the mood but a little bit of perspective is nice. And this fic has perspective in fucking droves.) 

tripas y corazón - Hyb: Iker Casillas/Sergio RamosThis fic will have you on the fucking floor. One of the inspirations behind football fic is, of course, the personalities and the relationships: who are these people, how do they interact, what ties them together. But another aspect is of course the clubs. Some of the best football fics are the ones that can really dig into the clubs, which are really sort of nebulous entities defined mostly by the players and the supporters. This fic uses the entity of Real Madrid to devastating effect. It’s a seriker fic, but it’s also very much a fic about the love affair between Iker and Real, and how thorny and complicated such a love affair can be. (Do you ever cry your eyes out about Iker Casillas? Do you ever wish you could throw yourself into a volcano as a sacrifice to make his life easier and happier? JOIN ME TODAY!) There’s something about the prose that brings everything out into a kind of harsh definition. As you read, you think that you can see what’s happening but then it does happen, and you feel winded, somehow. Blindsided. As a bonus, there’s also a cryptic and unhelpful Xabi cameo, in utterly classic style. Read and enjoy, read and die slowly inside because your life is a mess and you never even really supported  Real Madrid what has happened!!!!! here!!!!!!

und wenn ein lied - scheherazade: Philipp Lahm, Bastian Schweinsteiger, genThis is a difficult fic, okay. It’s not a nice fic, I guess, definitely not a happy fic, and it’s a tricky subject. It’s hosted on lj but if it had been written yesterday on AO3 there would be a lot of warning tags. Essentially it deals with homophobia in the sport, and whether or not players should come out or not. It’s a serious story and more than a little bit heartbreaking, but it’s a brilliant read and I can’t recommend it highly enough. Maybe I’m a little bit biased, because I love Fips and this fic can be seen as a kind of vindication for some disagreeable comments he made back in 2011 that got the fandom all a-spinning and it was generally not a great time. (On a side note, it is really interesting to read today and see just how much these politics have changed in the past- oh, fuck me, six years? Jesus I feel old) So definitely a huge YMMV warning on this one, but it remains one of my favourites. It’s beautifully written and really delves into various characters and the tightropes that they walk.

vainglory - anemoi: Raúl González/José María GutiérrezI blame two culprits for my complicated Thing with Real Madrid. The first is Iker Casillas and his unfairly beautiful face/hands, and the second is this fic. Because it’s fine to have a long-lasting crush on a player, but when you start delving into a club’s legends and becoming invested in the story lines? Then, my friend, you have a problem. There’s something gloriously sparse about the prose of this fic. It’s like a thin jacket in late fall that isn’t quite keeping you warm, so you just have to pull it tighter around yourself even though you keep shivering. There are so many descriptive passages that make you shudder: orange streetlights, oranges from a cart on the streets. There’s a sense of desperation in the bones of this fic, which is so stark against the backdrop of the club and the responsibility placed on the captain and vice-captain. Strength on the pitch contrasted with open vulnerability in quieter, more private moments. Breath-taking and just- ugh. This one really made an impact on me, and is always going to be one of my favourite Raúl/Guti stories amid a multitude of excellence. 

….

good grief, I know I’ve forgotten so many (and will in all probability wake up in the middle of night tonight in abject horror because how could I have forgotten such-and-such fic! And so-and-so!) but here you go, thirteen fics that I love and adore. All of these authors, too, have incredible oeuvres that are worth checking out! I could talk forever about fic and honestly, come ramble with me because yayy literary criticism! and also crying about footballers! etc etc

If you’ve read this far, I commend you. Thanks for the opportunity to talk your ear off!