#HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN SCHOOL OR PLAYING SOCCER PERHAPS

[wowa-bublord]

Scars

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: future smut. paring: smart!reader x himbo!rafe; ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school has incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him.

the verdict? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him.

outrageous, never done before.

for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

[samsalami66]

Don't Go Kicking My Heart

Another part of the soccer au, it is time for fluff and trauma! Enjoy!!

Read on ao3!

Today was the first day of a new era. A new age of football.

The world of sports would remember this day.��

The day Morpheus Ateleios, winner of the European Golden Shoe, first played for Fiddler’s Green, the highest ranking football club in all of Europe. 

Or, well, the day he first trained with them. His first match was still far off, the next season only started in a few months after all, but today was his first day as a part of the team. He would face the players for the first time not on opposite sides of a field, but as a teammate. 

Morpheus was about to be sick, standing in front of these unfamiliar training facilities in the middle of London, miles away from Wych Cross and Roderick’s now cold and dead body. The distance wasn’t enough. No distance could make up for the ache he still felt in his bones, in his muscles, for the bruises slowly healing on his back and chest. 

But thinking about the ghost of Roderick Burgess still being imprinted on his skin was not what really got to Morpheus’ stomach. 

No, it was the fact that he would face Robert Gadling for the first time as a colleague. A part of the team. 

Gadling was… well, to say Morpheus and him did not get along would probably be an understatement. They had a bit of a turbulent history. 

Said history might have involved red cards for both of them during their latest match, following a disagreement they had decided to solve with fists rather than words. 

It hadn’t been one of his proudest moments. 

There was just something about Gadling, something that set him off in the worst way possible. Morpheus wasn’t a pleasant person to be around, he’d admit, but Gadling would stare at him with such distaste, it felt entirely unwarranted. Jessamy would say it was jealousy, because Morpheus was clearly the better player between the two of them. But who knew, perhaps the Fiddlers’ star player was simply a homophobic asshole, like so many others in this sport. Maybe Roderick had a point when he said that nobody would want to play with him or share a locker room if they knew about him, about his fantasies. 

Perhaps he had been right to announce them to the world.

But god, was he really about to walk into a locker room full of people who would rather have him dead than anywhere near them? Would they refuse to undress before him, just like the Riggers had done? And what would Gadling do to him in the privacy of a training facility, where there was no referee to step between them, no cameras pointed in their direction? 

Fuck, all of this had been a terrible idea. He should leave, should tell Gilbert that he simply couldn’t play for this club, that he would have to find another player, that there was simply too much antagony and hatred and-

“You alright there, mate?” A voice, all too familiar, sounded from behind him. Morpheus couldn’t help the yelp that escaped his lips at the sudden appearance of Robert Gadling right in his personal space. He had been too caught up in his thoughts and didn’t even notice that the other man had approached him. It took every ounce of self-control Morpheus possessed to school his face back into something less terrified as he turned towards his old rival. 

“Why do you care?” He replied, venom dripping from his words. All it earned him was a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, you look like you’re walking to your death sentence. Mind, I don’t actually know what you’re doing here, of all places, but I’m pretty sure the death penalty was abolished in 1969 over here in the UK.” Robert Gadling looked thoughtful for a moment, one hand coming up to scratch at his beard, and Morpheus was left to stare at him. None of this answered his question. “Unless you committed treason of course, the death penalty for that was abolished in 1998 I think. Not that it matters much, both are in the past now, but the more you know!”

There was a moment of silence after Gadling stopped talking, one in which Morpheus contemplated if he should pinch himself for the unlikely reason that this was all a dream. Though surely not even his brain could come up with such impossible scenarios all on its own. After all, he knew nothing about English history. 

Perhaps if he didn’t answer, the other man would leave. 

But no such luck. Robert Gadling was not fazed by his silence. 

“Not a fan of history, eh? Fair enough, I guess it’s not everyone’s cuppa tea.” Gadling winked at him then, and Morpheus decided that perhaps pinching himself wasn’t the worst idea after all. A stab of pain shot up his arm, but, again, no luck. This really was no elaborate nightmare. Gadling was talking to him. “How about a joke, then? Something to wipe that mopey look off your face?”

He did not wait for Morpheus’ answer. He would not have gotten one anyway, but it was still rude. 

“Why’s Cinderella bad at football?” Morpheus was dreading the answer to this question more than he had dreaded entering the facilities in the first place. Robert Gadling waited for a moment, if for dramatics or simply to torture him, Morpheus didn’t know.

“Because she lost her shoe and ran away from the ball!” 

It was an awful joke. Really, it might be in the top ten of the worst jokes Morpheus had ever heard. And yet, he felt the familiar feeling of laughter bubbling up from deep within him, a sort of hysteria he simply couldn’t control, couldn’t stop as it was about to simply burst from his chest. 

Perhaps it was the whole situation that made him hysterical, the stress of the past few days that came crashing down on him that had sent him into delirium. Or, maybe, he simply wasn’t very sane to begin with.

Morpheus tried desperately to clasp a hand over his mouth in order to stop the horrible noise from escaping his lips, but it was a futile attempt. Waves of laughter shook his body and the sound, only slightly muffled by his hand, spilled into the air between him and Robert Gadling. 

Morpheus knew that his laugh was horrible. Back at school people had held their ears whenever he laughed, much later people had simply asked him to stop whenever he couldn’t catch himself in time. Roderick had had the cane. But Gadling did not do any of those things. 

Gadling was simply… looking. He looked… amused? Fond, perhaps? Morpheus couldn’t really see through the tears that were building in his eyes as he tried to calm down. But he had to be imagining things, nobody had ever looked fond when confronted with his joy. And Gadling… Gadling hated him.

Didn’t he? 

“Looked like you needed that.” he said, tone warm, and Morpheus wasn’t too sure about it anymore. “Come on, I’ll bring you wherever you need to go. And call me Hob, yeah? My friends usually do.”

Robert Gadling clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Morpheus had never felt so unsteady on his feet or in his world-view. 

It was minutes later that the two of them entered the training facilities of Fiddler’s Green, Gadling chattering away at Morpheus’ side as if they were old friends. He talked about anything and everything, topics seemingly unrelated to one another, though somehow Morpheus managed to keep up with the jumps in his stories. How he went from a camping trip the team went on last month to when he went fishing with his father when he was younger, to the anatomy of grasshoppers they had presumably used for fishing, and the physical differences between grasshoppers and crickets. 

It was weirdly familiar, so similar to how his own brain worked. Though he could never verbalise his thoughts like this, without overthinking every single word. Gadling didn’t particularly seem to care if he could keep up, just kept talking and gesturing as they walked. 

It was… calming. Morpheus found himself hoping that he didn’t stop any time soon. 

But, of course, they had a destination. And once they reached it, Gadling slowly came to a stop in his rambling. Before them were the doors to the locker rooms, through which Morpheus heard voices, broken up by laughter, louder than he had ever experienced a locker room to be at Fawney Rig. 

The Riggers hadn’t talked much to one another. Certainly hadn’t laughed together.

“Right, Gilbert should be with the other guys. Do you want me to get him or come inside?”

Considerate. Morpheus wished he didn’t have to go into this room. But there was no point, if he was supposed to work and play with these men in the future. 

“I would come in, if you don’t mind.” 

God, Morpheus hated how small his voice sounded. Gadling must be aware of what he was actually asking. The question Would you allow someone like me into your changing rooms? hidden somewhere between the lines. But the other man simply raised an eyebrow at him, smiled fondly and held the door open for him. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did.”

Morpheus remembered very clearly how the Riggers had once asked him to come inside the locker rooms after Roderick had outed him, just to close and lock the door in his face. 

It had been three years since he last stepped foot into a shared locker room. And Robert Gadling invited him, his rival, inside with a smile. 

Morpheus hoped the tears stinging in his eyes weren’t too obvious.

As they entered, member after member turned to look at them with an air of surprise and curiosity. One of them, blond, American, and with a devastatingly handsome smile, whistled and waggled his eyebrows in Gadling’s direction. 

“Did you finally have the guts to talk to Mister Dreamy without starting a fight, Robbie?”

When Morpheus turned to look at the other man, he could see that his tanned skin turned red around his cheeks, all the way up to his ears. Huh, Morpheus hadn’t known that Gadling felt embarrassment over their common disagreements on the field. He had always seemed very confident in his anger.

“Shut it, Cori. He’s here to talk to Gilbert.”

Just as Gadling said it, the man in question looked up from some papers he had been studying, with a smile spreading over his face. “Oh, Mister Ateleios!” Gilbert stood quickly to offer him his hand, which Morpheus took without much hesitation. The coach of Fiddler’s Green was a homely man, soft and welcoming in every way Roderick hadn’t been. “It’s wonderful to have you, son, just wonderful! I’m glad to see you’ve found your way just fine.” 

Morpheus couldn’t remember when someone had last called him son. Perhaps when he had last seen his parents… some six-odd years ago. Though, honestly, his father had stopped calling him son long before that. It made a part deep within him ache to hear it again, from a stranger nonetheless. But he couldn’t get emotional in front of all these people, not now, so he forced a smile and a nod, and hoped his voice didn’t break when he answered. 

“Yes, Mister Gadling was kind enough to lead the way. I am honoured to be here.”

The elder man patted his shoulder, fatherly, and Morpheus was a hair’s breadth away from breaking down. 

“Glad Robert could make himself useful at least, when he’s already never on time.” Gadling pouted at that, but didn’t otherwise react. Such a statement from Roderick would have had the entire room cowering in fear. But these men weren’t afraid. It was strange, but at the same time filled Morpheus with hope that this perhaps wasn’t a huge mistake. “And now that you two are here as well, it’s time for the big announcement, wouldn’t you say?”

Gilbert hadn’t warned the team of him? With all their history? Either the man had incredible trust in his men or he didn’t care much about Morpheus’ physical well-being.

Morpheus was about to be sick after all. 

“What’s the announcement, boss?” a raven-haired man asked from their right, curiosity in his voice. Or was it mistrust?

“Well, boys, Mister Ateleios here approached me a few weeks ago, asking to become a part of the team. And I signed him on, of course. He will take Paul’s place, since his spot opened up with the end of last season.” 

Morpheus closed his eyes, preparing himself for protest, for judgement, for insults. All of it would be reasonable, and he wasn’t stupid enough to hope for a better reaction. He had landed Gadling in hospital once, for Christ’s sake. He would be lucky if nobody resorted to violence in the face of what must feel like betrayal from their coach-

“Oh fuck yeah, we will kick ass this season with Morpheus on our team!”

Gadling’s excited voice cut through the silence like a knife through butter, and suddenly the whole room erupted into cheers. Hands found his shoulders and back, patting them with enthusiasm as Morpheus blinked his eyes open in surprise. The men were smiling at him, not a hint of malevolence in any of their faces. Robert Gadling was practically vibrating with excitement, his eyes shining like those of a child at Christmas. Nobody had ever looked at Morpheus like that, like his presence was a thing to look forward to. 

It would change, surely. They were happy to have his skills on their time, were looking forward to a successful season. That was all. 

It would change. 

Morpheus was sure of it. 

- - - 

The next day, Morpheus was the first ready for training. He was early, really. Dreadfully early. When Roderick said training started at eight, he had expected the team to show up at six at the latest. But apparently the Fiddlers were less inclined to begin a day so early. 

No matter, a few extra hours would not do him any harm. 

He could warm up already, set up a few exercises. Perhaps it would reflect on his conviction to be a valuable player for the team, so they would perhaps forgive his lack of character. 

It was as good a plan as ever. 

He started off with stretching his legs and feet, before moving onto his arms and neck. It was calming, to spend some minutes in tranquil silence, simply feeling the muscles in his body stretch and loosen for the day ahead. Just as he was about to start his last set of stretches, a voice came from the side of the field, which almost caused him to strain his neck with how fast he turned around to look at the source. 

Of course, it was Gadling. 

“Did you hear about the team whose back four was only two fullbacks?”

That. Didn’t make any sense. What was that supposed to mean? Had he been supposed to do preparations for today’s training? Research the teams they would be playing? Gods, if he had already missed such a vital task on his second day they would never tolerate him, they would put him on the bench and find a different player, they-

“Apparently they're double stuffed.”

It was another joke. A pun. A horrible, terrible, awful pun. 

Morpheus couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, half-delirious, his heart beating so fast in his chest he felt a bit faint. 

He hadn’t misstepped. No reason for punishment. He was okay. 

Except that he was laughing, freely, before Robert Gadling. 

He really had to get a grip on himself. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the laughter in, couldn’t stop, not even when tears were running down his cheeks and his stomach felt like he had done a hundred situps. 

Gadling was smiling when he came closer, as he seemed to do so very often since they had met in front of the facility. He sat down next to him, mirroring his current position, and Morpheus couldn’t help but smile back at him as they began to stretch together, Gadling once again regaling him with stories and anecdotes and seemingly random facts. 

It was nice. 

Morpheus had absolutely no idea how to deal with it. But he decided to simply accept it for what it was. 

- - - 

On Saturdays, the Fiddlers met for drinks. 

It was an unspoken rule, a tradition, and Morpheus had been invited during that first week of training with the team. Therefore, it was important to leave a positive impression. 

He arrived, dressed in a tux and carrying a bottle of wine, at the address Gadling had sent him. It was… not a real restaurant, nor another place he recognised. It didn’t seem to be a place where any of the other players lived either. The sign on the front of the building read The New Inn and from inside Morpheus could hear the same laughter and joy he had come to associate with the locker rooms of Fiddler’s Green. 

They were a loud bunch, almost irritatingly so, if it weren’t for the warmth their company provided. Spending time with them was easier than it had ever been with the Riggers. 

Upon entering Morpheus was greeted with cheers and whistles, and he realised very quickly that he was immensely overdressed. The team sat around a large table towards the side of the room, dressed in jeans, t-shirts and hoodies (except Ken and Cori, those two technically wore shirts, though Morpheus was not entirely sure that they could really qualify as such with how little they were covering.). Gadling sported a fading band-tee about two sizes too large and sweat-pants.

Gods above, Morpheus would stick out like a sore thumb. Why had nobody told him about the dress-code?

“Looking good, Dreamy!” Cori called over the cheers, a grin on his face. “Dress to impress! Robbie will look dreadfully underdressed next to you.”

The man in question kicked Cori underneath the table. 

“Ow! What, it’s not my fault you roll from your couch upstairs right down to drinks night!” 

The tips of Gadling’s ears turned red at the other man’s words, and Morpheus almost felt the need to defend him. After all, it was his being overdressed, not Gadling being undressed, that was the faux-pas here. 

But in the spirit of good impressions Morpheus simply sat down on the free chair next to Gadling and placed the bottle of wine on the table. It was immediately nicked by Mervyn, an appreciative whistle leaving his lips as he read the label. “Good stuff, Dreamy. Cheers!”

That nickname, twice already this evening. Morpheus wasn’t entirely sure if it existed to make fun of him or was simply a thing these people did. It had been there since day one, and apparently the team wasn’t about to stop anytime soon. It… did not bother Morpheus too much. He had never had a nickname. Roderick had only ever called him Morpheus, and he had only ever said it with hatred, disappointment or cold detachment. Never with humour, joy or fondness, had never used it to tease him. 

“Why did the winger miss the match?”

Gadling’s voice, quiet and right next to his ear, quickly pulled Morpheus out of his thoughts. It was a question. Had he missed a part of the conversation? Was he supposed to answer? Or, no, it wasn’t another one, was it…?

“He was busy chasing ball.” 

Oh, fuck, it was another one of Gadling’s horrible, god-awful puns. That was it. Proof that Gadling hated him, had just been nice to him to gain some twisted sort of amusement. Morpheus knew the laughter was coming this time, knew he was helpless against it bubbling up in his throat. He didn’t want to face the whole team as they were subjected to his laugh. Surely they would tell him to stop, to keep quiet, to leave the inn, laugh at him. 

But there was no helping it. With his face hidden behind his hands, Morpheus allowed the sound to spill over and mix with the laughter around them. Seconds passed by, and the noise around him did not stop. Conversations continued, drinks were drunk, and nobody seemed to react at all. 

Ever so slowly, Morpheus dared to raise the hands from his face and to peek into the group of people around him. 

Nobody was batting an eye. 

Stunned, and more than a little confused, Morpheus let his hands drop to his lap. Beside him, Gadling was nursing his beer, almost as if he hadn’t just tried to embarrass him in front of the entire team. Or… perhaps he really hadn’t tried to. Nobody was laughing at him after all. Nobody was shouting at him to keep quiet or to go outside. 

Almost as if it were okay for him to just… be. 

- - - 

About a month later, Morpheus sat in his apartment on his day off. A Sunday. The first of the month. 

It was a quiet day, warm and sunny and the only sounds were the birds chirping outside.

That was, until someone decided it would be a brilliant idea to abuse his doorbell. Probably some reporter, or an obnoxious fan. They would get bored soon. Very soon. 

Ten minutes later, the doorbell was still ringing and Morpheus had had enough. 

“Gamo to kerato sou. People nowadays have zero respect for privacy.”

Morpheus was ready to yell at whoever was standing behind the door, scare them off so they would never show their face here ever again. 

But behind the door was Gadling. And Cori. And Matthew and Mervyn and John and Ken and… even Gilbert was there. Gadling was holding a cake in his hands. Self-made, by the looks of it. 

The frosting read Happy One Month Anniversary!

Morpheus was about to cry. 

He couldn’t help it. He rushed forward, right into the arms of Robert Gadling. Because this must have been his idea, insufferable, incredible man that he was. Considerate. God, he was always so considerate. Cheering him up with stupid puns every single day, forcing him to relax, to trust, to breathe, to be. 

Forcing Morpheus to enjoy his company. Seek it out even. He didn’t do hugs. And yet, here he was. 

“Thank you, Hob.” he whispered, so only Hob could hear. The arms around him tightened, and the other man pressed his cheek against his own. 

“Anytime, Dream.”

[arcaneafterhours]

in which i try to cut the clark family some slack

did not proof read this bear with me

@womp-womp-waa gift for u

"I just don't understand what I'm doing wrong."

Jessica started therapy 4 months ago. She figured it were for the best, with how much she was working. Regular breakdowns, stress and work was really starting to get to her, and she concluded it would be counterproductive to continue to ignore her problems. Recently, however, she has come with a new issue.

See her son, Aiden, was growing increasingly distant. She supposed she should have seen it coming, with how often her and her husband were away on trips. Jessica had figured he would be fine, he had several things to do. She had made it out just fine with her parents being away, why wasn't he?

"He has plenty to do, friends to hang out with, every gaming console I could find---" She cut herself off with a sigh, bringing one hand up to cover her face. "I know I work a lot, but theres nothing I feel like I can do. I don't understand why he's so distant. Theres extracurriculars, sports, everything of the like."

She stopped again when she caught on to the fact that she had been talking without pause. It was always good to take a break every once and awhile, as she had learned the hard way. Jessica loved her son, he was so talented and smart. And yet he never seemed to be happy.

The woman before her nodded slowly to her words. "What extracurriculars does he do?" She asked, avoiding Jessica's gaze in favor of writing notes on her clipboard.

A mental list almost wrote itself in Jessica's mind. "He plays soccer, he takes violin and piano lessons. Oh! And recently he's started archery," She began, mentally counting off whatever she could. "Honors classes, chess club, the schools student council---"

"And how old is he?" "Aiden is 13."

"Doesn't that sound like a lot for a boy that age? When did he tell you he wanted to do all of this?"

Jessica took a moment to mull on that. Actually, when did he? Lots of them were originally her idea, he simply agreed to them. That was all she really took. A simple nod, a small agreeing hum. She took that and ran with it.

Her mind started to race before she could catch it. It was all for him, wasn't it? She wanted him to be successful, just like she was. She achieved it with hard work, and by taking advantage of every opportunity she got. That was all she wanted. She just wanted her boy to have a life full of potential she knows he has.

She shut her eyes.

"Am i overworking him?"

---

Jessica cried on the way home from that appointment. She cried often, but not like this. She always cried from stress, from how much she had to get done, it was all so much that she just broke down. But she got it done anyway, didn't she? This time she wasn't sure. She was the cause of her child's problems, and oh how she felt terrible. She needed to fix this.

As she drove home, a memory came to her.

She was young, perhaps a little older than her son is now. She came back to an empty home, only getting a note from her parents that they would be back at an unknown time. Her room was a mess. Thinking now, Jessica didn't know why she didn't think to clean it. Only, at the time she had just come home from a club meeting, and immediately had to get ready for her softball game.

She remembered how exhausted she felt. All the time. About absolutely everything.

And yet, she had done the exact same thing to her son.

Jessica was failing him.

---

It was nighttime. She didn't know if he was still awake. She stood outside his door. She had been for five minutes. Would he even want to see her at this point? She had barely seem him today.

One knock. Then another.

Aiden was sitting on his bed when she came in. She didn't know what he was doing. It didn't look like much. Slowly, she sat down beside him.

"How was soccer practice?" "It was fine."

He didn't sound enthusiastic at all.

Jessica took a moment to observe the boys room. It was a wreck. It ripped her heart in two.

"When is your next trip?" "We leave next Friday." She mumbled. He only nodded, looking away. Jessica took a heavy breath. She needed to fix this.

"Why don't you come with us this time?" She spoke slowly, as if addressing a frightened animal she was trying to keep from running away.

Silence filled the room.

"I can't. I have practice. And lessons. I might have club meetings too."

Jessica found herself grabbing the boys hand. It was that time he finally glanced at her. He looked exhausted.

"Forget all of that. You work so hard, you deserve a break."

He was confused. Of course he was. Jessica had always been a 'work til you drop' kind of person. And it was catching up to her now.

"I mean---"

Aiden paused.

"I don't know."

Jessica leaned down and gave him a kiss on the head. It was something she mainly did when he was little. "Think about it, okay? We would love to have you with us."

Of course, there would be the plane tickets. And the hotel rooms. And adding a level of actual tourist activities, instead of just visiting the area. Maybe they could stay for a bit longer this time, and actually enjoy their travels.

When Aiden didn't reply, Jessica stood.

Before she could leave the room, she paused in the doorway.

"Sweetie," She ended up glancing back at him. "Do you enjoy soccer? Honestly?"

Aiden stared at her.

After some heavy silence, he shook his head no.

"What about lessons?" More silent shakes of the head.

Aiden wasn't happy. And it was Jessica's fault. She was working him to the bone, and didn't even have the time to notice. She wanted to cry again.

"You don't have to go anymore, then."

That actually got something out of her son. Perhaps he perked up, or was just straightening his bad posture. Was she reading too far into this?

"Really?" "If you really don't enjoy it, you don't have to go."

Jessica's mind was screaming at her to stop. A mantra of her boy's future crumbling flooded her thoughts. If he doesn't live up to his full potential, he isn't going to have good opportunities in life. What will people say when he suddenly drops everything?

Her grip on his door handle tightened. Aiden was more important. She forced herself to stop thinking like that. Her son and his happiness was more important than anything.

She glanced at Aiden again. He seemed to relax. Like a weight slid off his shoulders in one fell swoop. And, ever so slightly, so did she.

---

Aiden wanted the window seat. Of course, Jessica got the good seats for them, so they were by no means squished. She still sat near him though, watching him as he switched from staring out the window in wonder, to playing some sort of game on his console.

She wanted to connect with him. How could she? Jessica felt lost. Was she doing the right thing for him? How could she even find an entry point to start a conversation? Her eyes drifted back into the game in his hands.

"What are you playing?"

He blinked at her, startled she even asked. "Uh, its called pokémon."

She tilted his head at him, waiting for him to elaborate. After a moment, he switched seats, coming to sit beside her. He showed her the screen, decorated in colorful pixels displaying what appeared to be two odd animal-but-not-quite-animals in what appeared to be a battle. Aiden started to ramble, telling her about types, and moves, and 'gyms'. Frankly, Jessica understood absolutely none of it.

And yet, she listened anyway. Aiden was smiling now, happily explaining every detail he could, showing her how the game worked and everything. To be honest, she had never considered videogames to be something that required strategy. Perhaps she was wrong.

Really, Jessica was wrong about a lot. But she was willing to learn.

[avonne-writes]

I’d love your thoughts on gales relationship w his father in any of ur modern AUs + how John reacts to/fits into it!!

Thank you so much ❤️ Great question! I will describe their relationship in the high school AU, because the others are not yet defined in my head.

In the HS AU:

Gale's dad is often drunk or at a bar in the evening and gets home in the middle of the night

If he’s drunk at home, he keeps Gale up, if he gets home at night, he wakes him up by being too loud

So Gale has sleep problems. Because of this, he sleeps at Bucky’s as often as possible, which usually means every weekend and sometimes during the week too

When Gale’s dad has a bad night gambling, he gets verbally aggressive, berates Gale and his mom, blames them for bad luck etc. Bucky told Gale to call him even during the night if this happens. Gale never does, but the thought that he could feels really comforting to him.

Gale's dad isn’t overtly homophobic and he doesn’t threaten Gale for being gay. But all Gale's life, he has been saying stuff about what a real man should look like and how he should behave. The older Gale gets, the more he disagrees with the man’s ideas. This is why he grows out his hair.

A few times, Gale’s dad hit him when drunk. Bucky helped hide the bruises with his mom's make-up.

Gale asks his mom to get a divorce multiple times, but she's always torn about it and if she tells Gale's dad she's going through with it, the man sobers up for a while and acts all nice and decent to keep them.

When he starts drinking again after a nice period, Gale goes to Bucky and just lies in complete, silent defeat in his embrace.

He tells Bucky he’s moving out as soon as possible and will never go back.

None of their friends know about all this, they just know he fights with his parents and spends a lot of time hanging out at Bucky’s place.

He goes to the school psychologist every week, and Bucky always waits for him, often kicking a soccer ball around in the schoolyard. If Gale had a session that shook him / left him drained, he sits on a bench and Bucky shows him tricks with the ball and plays around until Gale smiles again.

Gale's parents almost never attend school events / swim meets / competitions.

Gale's mom is so caught up in her own struggles that she uses him as a crutch too in dealing with his dad. Gale is used to taking this responsibility on his shoulders but as he gets older, and especially after meeting Bucky's mom, he realizes that this is not how it should be and he grows resentful. It’s perhaps unfair but he resents her more than his dad and then feels guilty for it.

Gale loves Bucky's mom and she loves him too. One day, when he has a crisis, she tells her that she'll always be there for him, even if he and Bucky break up.

Bucky's mom is a single parent and is away a lot due to work (which feeds into one of Bucky's problems, but that's a different story). But she's laidback about a lot of things and doesn’t try to hold Bucky back from exploring, so it's not really an issue when they start having sex. There’s none of that bullshit "open door policy".

Gale categorically refuses to take Bucky home with him. They've been dating for like two years or something already when he lets Bucky enter the house with him for the first time.

By the time this happens, Bucky is taller than Gale's dad. He’s gangly but he’s not intimidated by the man. Him being all protective actually makes Gale feel a mix of affection and arousal.

There’s definitely an altercation between Bucky and Gale's dad at one point, possibly close to graduation, but Bucky disengages when he realizes that it makes Gale upset.

Bucky helps Gale learn how to relax and enjoy things. Gale reassures Bucky that Gale is someone he can always count on and who won't abandon him.

[calltocupid]

some of my tim laughlin headcanons

he is incredibly good at art. (i know this is touched on in the book, but let me be.) he has cheap little journals that he can afford filled with various sketches of hawk. the tips of his ears and his cheeks always turn a dark crimson color when hawk catches him.

after meeting hawk, he has difficulty sleeping alone. he has to be at the brink of exhaustion in order for him to fall asleep without hawk curled around him.

he’s been wearing glasses since he was 6 years old. at first, he was embarrassed about it, especially with how mean kids can be. sometimes he still gets self-conscious about it, even in his older years.

he’s a morning person!! he wakes up every morning and either goes on runs or walks, especially in the summer time. he’s also a bit of an earth worm granola boy. in the nicer weather, he’s always finding little places to explore: hiking/biking trails, new parts of d.c./san fran that he hasn’t seen yet, etc,.

adhd tim!! it’s something he’s struggled with all of his life.

he loves to collect things. trinkets, pins, magnets, mugs. whatever it may be, he tends to keep it, as he’s hard time letting go of things that perhaps have a story to them.

he keeps every single card and letter he’s ever received from loved ones. it gets increasingly worse as he meets hawk, though. he holds onto everything hawk has given him.

all of the scrapbooks he has of his family are ones he’s made himself. one afternoon at fordham, he got really overwhelmed with studying, so he took a break to make some out of the pictures he’d kept in a box in his closet.

he was incredibly shy all throughout college. it was easy for him to make friends, but he was typically the one who had to be approached, otherwise he’d tend to keep to himself.

he loves the fall time. growing up in new york, him and his family would always do an immense amount of activities together as soon as september rolled around and the leaves changed. apple picking, hayrides, trips to salem, visits to the pumpkin patch where he’d always pick the most neglected pumpkin because he felt bad for it.

he’s been sensitive his entire life. he’s very in tune with other peoples emotions too, and he can very easily pick up on shifts in people’s behavior/moods.

he’d always tried to play sports growing up—baseball, soccer, even swimming—but he’s always been more creative than athletic. once his parents quit hounding him about it, most of his time was consumed with writing, reading, and art of various kinds.

he began to grow fascinated with history and government work when he was in 7th grade. he’d spend afternoons after classes in the town library reading anything and everything he could get his hands on if it was about those subjects.

the cross necklace he wears was a birthday gift when he turned 16. it holds immense sentimental value.

his first crush on a boy was when he was in kindergarten, back before anyone really realizes it’s a crush. but the one he really remembers was high school. it was a boy on the football team, about a year older than him, and tim can remember growing distracted in class from doodling him in the margins of his notes.

okay. i have so many more, but i don’t want this to be ridiculous. let me know if i should share more.

[justafriend-ql]

"i'm good for nothing" - kanghan's self-fulfilling prophecy

oftentimes, "rich asshole" characters are humanized in stories by revealing that they're breaking down and acting out due to the intense pressure their family's put on them to be the best in all ways. but in dangerous romance, kanghan is humanized in the opposite way - by showing that his carelessness and cruelty have stemmed from his father telling him not to try, not to apply himself, not to be the best. he says his father has never expected anything from him, and that itself is an expectation, in a way. it tells kang that he's "good for nothing," and over time, kang has come to believe that label, enacting a self-fulfilling prophecy in which kang behaves like the careless, self-indulgent jerk his father expects him to be.

"labeling theory" is a sociological concept that can help us understand kang's behavior. originally, labeling theory was applied to people who are labeled "criminals," with the idea that once society attaches a stigmatizing label to someone, they become trapped by it. for example, once someone is labelled a criminal, they are cut off from many opportunities that could help them change their status (e.g., jobs, housing) and thus find themselves stuck engaging in more criminal activities to survive. over time, they come to accept the label of "criminal" and incorporate it into their own self-identity.

applying labeling theory to kang, you can see how his father's comments about how pursuing ambitious goals doesn't "suit" kang have affected his own self-concept. his father - who is a successful, ambitious man himself - keeps telling him that he's not good enough to achieve anything meaningful, so why should he bother trying? instead, kang comes to believe he is a "good for nothing" and acts in accordance with that label by not studying, picking on other kids at school, and running the other way at the first glimpse of responsibility.

kanghan is trapped in a self-fulfilling prophecy (also called "interpersonal expectancy effect"), defined as "the phenomenon whereby a person's or a group's expectation for the behavior of another person or group serves actually to bring about the prophesied or expected behavior." he has ambitions (e.g., running for student council, playing soccer), but his father doesn't recognize them. when he catches kang playing fifa, he doesn't even seem to know that kang likes soccer. he doesn't really know his son, just the apathetic version of him he has created in his head.

we don't know exactly why kang's father treats him the way he does. kang tells sailom that he started not to expect anything of kang after his mother's death, perhaps seeing him as "too fragile" to undertake difficult work after this traumatic event. but coddling and lack of expectations can be just as painful as pressure and too many expectations. kang wants so badly for his father to look at him, to acknowledge him, to believe in him... but he just doesn't.

what's interesting is that since meeting sailom, kang is actively resisting the self-fulfilling prophecy his father has forced upon him. sailom takes kang's ambition to do well on his exams seriously and encourages him when he does well. he helps kang build new expectations for himself and see capabilities he never thought he had before - all because he has been trained to see himself as talentless, and thus, not to try in the first place.

sailom can help kang rebuild a sense of self-efficacy (an individual's confidence in their ability to exert control over their motivation, behavior, and social environment), because he, in contrast to kang, is told by his brother, teachers, and friends that he is smart, talented, and destined for a bright future despite his veritable financial challenges. with sailom's support, hopefully kang will continue to break out of his self-fulfilling prophecy.

not for his father. not for his grandma. not for sailom. for himself.

[phantoms-lair]

New School New You.

For @era-the-witchy-birdkid's Super!Conan AU

Elementary School was demeaning, boring, and it was taking all he had not to snap at the next kid who asked him what kind of weird name 'Conan' was.

Maybe he should snap? That might be more believable for his apparent age. Ugh, this sucked.

And while he appreciated the easier gym class to the Kishida-sensei's drill sergeant approach, it was perhaps too far in the other direction as the gym teacher had just set them up on a soccer field with some balls and left them alone??? That couldn't be legal. Still it was nice to be outside. He hadn't had much time for playing since he'd quit the soccer team to focus on cases and the sun on his skin felt good.

Still it was nice just kicking a ball around. It had always helped him think. And the sounds of being impressed from his new classmates were much better than jabs about his name and well...he had always been a bit of a show off, so why not give his new classmates a show?

He bounced the ball up and then kicked it as hard as he could. The ball whizzed past the goalies head - and kept going. It stretched the net to capacity and broke through, slamming into the oak tree of the other side before knocking it clear over.

No way.. Conan fell to the ground, staring at the damage he had inadvertently caused, the poor goalie sobbing on his knees. The gym teacher finally reappeared and ran to comfort him before shooing all the kids back in to get changed out of their gym clothes. His classmates gave him a wide berth and he honestly couldn't blame them.

Still, there had to be a logical reason. Old netting on the goal post, rot in the tree, something. He went back to the scene of the incident after school to gather evidence. Sure this wasn't a crime, but this was a case and he was going to solve it.

It looked like the net had already been removed, so he'd have to concentrate on the tree. Cursing his tiny legs he had to stand on tip-toe to see the broken area and-

"What are you doing?"

Conan almost fell over in surprise. He turned around to see three of his new classmates staring at him. "I'm trying to find out why the tree fell over."

"Cause you kicked the ball at it!" The larger one proclaimed.

Conan narrowed his eyes. "A kid can't knock over a tree with a soccer ball. Not even a grown up could do that. There must have been something wrong with the tree." Hmm, it looked healthy enough, but he couldn't say anything without looking at it under a microscope. He pulled a chuck of wood out and it gave way easily. "See!" He waved the wood around. "On a healthy tree I'd need a cutting tool or something to get that out." "Unless," The tall thin boy countered. "It broke because you have super strength. Obviously then you pulling it out wouldn't change anything because your hand are as strong as your legs."

Conan rolled his eyes. Kids. "Super strength isn't a real thing."

"The prove it!" The larger boy countered. "Prove you don't have super strength."

"How?" Conan asked dryly.

The three kids converged together and whispered, then turned to face Conan, ready to give their answer.

He crossed his arms. "Is it something that would get me hurt if, as I said, I don't have super strength."

The three kids looked at each other and returned to their huddle. When they broke this time the girl spoke. "You need to try and break something that we know isn't easily broken. Like a piece of metal!"

"And where are you going to get the metal? I'm not breaking the soccer goalposts."

"There's construction work going on around the Columbo restaurant. I bet there's something there!" the thin boy declared.

"Great idea, Mitsuhiko-kun!" the girl complained.

The boy now identified as Mitsuhiko-kun blushed. "Thank you, Ayumi-chan!"

Two names down, at least. "Let's go and get this farce over."

~

The site had already closed for the day, but it was easy enough to sneak inside.

The larger boy, who'd since been identified as Genta, tried to lift up and I-Beam and could barely budge it. "That should do."

"Anything to get this over with." Conan grabbed the beam with both hands and froze. He pantomimed trying to lift it, appearing to strain his muscles. "See?"

The three kids looked disappointed. "I guess there was something wrong with the tree after all," Mitsuhiko sighed. "Sorry for bothering you."

Once they'd left, Conan looked at the underside of the I-Beam. There were indents from his hand, indents he'd felt himself making. He looked over to where Genta had grabbed it. Nothing.

Almost mechanically he slotted his hands back to where the indents were and pulled in opposite directions. The I-Beam tore like tissue paper.

Conan stared at the twisted metal What did that poison do to me?

[quodekash]

ASDHSAGFHDGAFHGAHGFAS EPISODE 10

need I say more?

AND HE'S WEARING HIS SHIRT???

THE MORNING AFTER THEY HAD SEX (or perhaps just a very intense makeout session)

BRO THATS A POWER MOVE IF I EVER SAW ONE

AAAASFHDSHFDSAFAHSDHSADH

that's the first time ive heard someone refer to banging their boyfriend as "mind-blowing" and I honestly love it (I say through wheezing gasps of laughter that's hilarious kang)

dont gaslight him bro

we all saw it

and it was tender and beautiful and lovely and perfect

and I swear if they pull an akkayan episode 6/7 and reveal that kang imagined the whole thing, I promise I will track down the houses of p'lit, p'toh, p'pratchaya and p'bee and I will personally smack them (and then while im there ill hug them and thank them for their amazing directing and writing because they're all incredible and im so glad these series exist because of them)

THANK GOODNESS

IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED, PHEW

YES

YES PLEASE DO THAT

AND THEN WE CAN SEE GUYNAWA

because istg if they pull a soundwin and give us HEAPS of progression in episode 9 and then literally NOTHING in episode 10, I promise I will do what I said I would do if they pulled an akkayan episode 6/7

you better watch out directors and writers, your faces may be slapped shortly

so soccer is a video game now? and the sailom-scent-shirt is like a special equipment thing with magical properties?

honestly if someone made drts into a video game id buy it. and I dont even have a gaming console.

I would buy a gaming console entirely for drts video game

okay yeah I agree but I reckon it'll be fine, kang's dad has already paid a bunch of money so I doubt the coach will get too mad

but also I still want to believe that he got onto that team with actual skill and that the money exchanging thing just kinda happened, but it wasn't the reason he got on the team, you know?

so im hoping that maybe when they go to the training camp, the coach will explain everything?? maybe???

ALSO everyone on the team is gonna be IMMEDIATELY suspicious of kang and sailom. kang shows up several days late to training camp, and sailom is with him. theyll all be like 👀

my hope is that the first guy to figure it out will be the bloke in the red jersey because he was side-eyeing guynawa ALL of last episode

AWWW

and see, there's something about the difference between what coach says here, and what his dad says a few episodes earlier

"Don't worry. I understand how teenagers are. I've been through it all, I understand" where he's familiarising himself with Kang, relating himself to him, remembering how messy his life was when he was a teenager, and using the "I get how teenagers are" line to comfort Kang when he is grateful for being given such a great opportunity

as opposed to "I get how teenagers are, they never want to study, you should just relax all the time" where he's using his understanding of teenagers from what he's seen during his election campaign (this was in the same conversation where he saw his son playing Fifa and kang got hopeful that maybe he could bond with his father, and his father said "ive seen many young people playing it during my campaign". he relates everything back to himself, the election, and general teenagers as a concept rather than as complicated human beings that you should try to connect to if one of them is, oh I dont know, your son?). and the line is overlooking and dismissing the stress of school and being a teenager. and he never once asks his son if he wants to study. he assumes that he doesnt, because of what he knows about teenagers entirely from observing during his campaign. the man doesnt sit down to talk to his son and learn things about him and to help him and give him advice, like a father should. he's never around to do so.

but then coach says such a comforting thing and he words it in the right way and even talks about how he himself was once a teacher, and he understands what kang is going through, even if he doesnt know all the details

oh would you look at that I wrote an essay

I could actually turn that into an actual essay if I wanted to

the exam i have on king lear in less than two weeks can sit to the side for a while, kangsailom are far more important

GUYNAWA WALKED ONTO THE FIELD TOGETHER THEY WALKED ONTO THE FIELD TOGETHER AAAAAAA

PLS I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

hes like korn but... better

love korn but idk, he kind of asked the same kinds of questions and made fun of his friends in the same sense that guy is now, but he did it differently and it came off in a more intrusive/inappropriate/rude way than the way guy's doing it if that makes sense? idk

so you decided to go outside where name is?

what, are you planning to do him

(this is the second time in two episodes that ive made a joke about saifahname doing each other, what is wrong with me)

name is taking notesss

he's cooking up that robbery plan (??)

YOU COULD TRAVEL THE WORLD TOGETHER

HOW CUTE WOULD THAT BE

AND NAME LOOKS SO HAPPY HERE

ITS A TERRIBLE SCREENSHOT BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, YOU'VE SEEN IT, HE'S SO HAPPY AT FINDING OUT THEY HAVE THIS IN COMMON, AND HE'S SO HAPPY THINKING ABOUT THE POSSIBILITIES OF TRAVELLING THE WORLD GJIERKBGS

he remembers things about him

HE REMEMBERS THINGS ABOUT HIM

okay I know it seems like im pushing a romantic agenda on saifahname, but even if they have an entirely platonic relationship, I still love them and their dynamic so so so much

THATS WHAT IM SAYING

its been years since they were in high school, literal years since they last saw each other and literal years since they last had a decent conversation with each other, and yet saifah still remembers that one tiny detail about the guy

like what the hell

EVERYTHING????

IM CRYING

WHAT THE HELL MAN

is this the part where he professes his undying love for him that flourished when they were in high school and it faded into the background for a few years when they were apart, and then he reconnected with him and all those past feelings came rushing back at once?

(im like. half kidding about this)

okay, every line they say I become more certain that they must've had a thing in high school

like a "one-off, no feelings attached, experimenting" kind of thing

OH MY

JUST KISS ALREADY??? OR HUG??????? DO SOMETHING, PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU

IDC IF ITS ROMANTIC OR PLATONIC

START CRYING OR SOMETHING

AND HIS SMILE

I AM VERY MUCH NOT OKAY

ITS A CRAP SCREENSHOT BUT WHEN SAIFAH DOES THAT BIG WIDE GENUINE SMILE IT BREAKS MY HEART A LITTLE BIT BUT ALSO MENDS MY HEART A BIT AT THE SAME TIME

THATS WHAT IM SAYING

oh

so the determination for the robbery that's probably coming up isn't gonna be for entirely selfish reasons

its for wholesome adorable possibly-gay reasons

be gay do crime folks

Im loving the theme of debts in this series

and not just in the form of actual money debts

other debts, like the debt of gratitude that name owes this guy

or with kang's dad and his idea of "its my way of apologising" "its my way of helping you" and how those gestures were ways of forcing saifah and kang into owing him a debt

debt is such a weird word

but yeah. and like, even the debts have debts in a way

name, a debt collector, owes his employer a debt

ging is offering to pay all of sailom's family's debts, so long as sailom tutors kang and gets him into a good public university. so now sailom owes ging a debt of gratitude, and if he fails at helping kang into a public university, then he has not only his actual money debts, but he'll have the feeling of guilt on his shoulders for not achieving that goal

I just think its really interesting

OHHHHH

OH OKAY I GET IT NOW

that makes a lot of sense

man I hate this guy

YOU SEE, AND THIS WOULD BE VERY INTERESTING AND CRUCIAL INFORMATION THAT HE SHOULD'VE TOLD HIS SON, SO THAT HIS SON DOESNT FEEL ALONE??? SO THAT HE CAN TRY TO RELATE TO HIS SON IN SOME WAY???

I dont think this man has any idea how to be a father

he has no clue what hes doing and he's not even trying to figure out what he should do

he literally said last episode that kang just gets like that sometimes, and he just leaves the house because hes mad and angry and has a lot of emotions, and he comes back within a few days

maybe instead of just waiting it out, he could TALK to his son and say "hey kid, I know you're going through a rough time right now, I get it. I want you to know that you can talk to me if you want to or need to, because I've been through the exact same thing - I used to run away from your grandmother for weeks on end because I was angry with her. so I know exactly what you're going through, and I understand that its really difficult and scary being a teenager, but if you need it, you can talk to me about this, and I can offer what best advice I have" OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT???

JUST TALK TO YOUR SON BITCH

YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE PART OF HIS LIFE

THAT'S ADORABLE

SAILOM I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

Y E S

FINALLY

GOOD JOB BITCH

HES GONNA GO SEE THE GAME

TAKING INTEREST IN YOUR SON'S INTERESTS, GOOD, FINALLY, YOU'RE GETTING THERE

IT ONLY TOOK YOU 18 YEARS BUT YOU'RE FINALLY GETTING THERE

JKDFGBEDVFS

ITS LITERALLY HIS MOTTO AT THIS POINT

HES SAID IT IN FOUR OUT OF THE LAST FIVE EPISODES WE'VE HAD

I LOVE IT SO MUCH

that's the way he appears out of thin air? not sitting next to him, or saying anything? just silently handing him a bottle of water?

come on man, work on your dramatic flair

anyway, I so hope that while they're sitting there watching, kong does the classic "so you and my son have something special" line where its super unclear if the parent knows they're in a romantic relationship, or if the parent just thinks they have a strong everlasting bond of friendship

im thinking specifically of uther talking to merlin about him and Arthur in that one episode

"im not busy" but... the governor's birthday?

I mean I agree that the governor isn't important, but I didn't think he'd think that

OH WAIT

THIS IS DEFINITELY THE FIRST TIME HE'S PRIORITISED HIS SON'S INTERESTS AND DESIRES AND HOPES AND WISHES AND DREAMS OVER THE BLOODY ELECTION CAMPAIGN

HERKSJGDB

GOOD JOB MY GUY

THIS SHOULDVE HAPPENED A LONG TIME AGO BUT IT IS HAPPENING AND THE VERY DEEP WOUNDS ARE FINALLY STARTING TO HEAL SO THIS IS WONDERFUL

CRAP IM OUT OF IMAGES

30 images is really not many

[bookfanfic]

Letter from 1914 (world war 1 - imagine scenario)

Summary: Felix is a 25 year old, German soldier from 1914. He's never done anything in his life, for his mom to be proud of. And since his dad died (9 years ago), his mom have treated him even worse. He has an 11 year old sister (Lily), and a 32 year old aunt, Elise. When the war comes up it's super obvious for Heidi (Felix's mom) to send him to the war "to have something to be proud of for once". Little did he know that he would meet the love of his life during his time there.

About 1700 words.

Author's note: I had a school assignment where we were supposed to write like we were any person from 1914, from their POV, and I thought it would be fun to post it here. Btw, it is a gay couple in the story fyi (I can write both gay and straight couples so you know).

Hope you like it <33

Hello, Aunt Elise.

It's me, Felix. The war isn't like we thought at all.

You know Mother Heidi wanted me to participate in the war so badly, so she could finally have something to be proud of. And since it was obvious to everyone we would win.

But it wasn't that simple...

We are at war on both the Eastern and Western fronts now, which is where I am right now (The western front to avoid any confusion).

War is not what we thought it was.

It's bloody and cold. And I nearly died once. But a French man saved me.

His name is Nestor and he is only a year older than me.

He has dark hair and a mixture of blue and gray eyes. He could have chosen not to save me, since he could have received huge punishment for it.

When he bumped into that soldier who was about to shoot me.

The trenches were cold. Especially now during the winter.

It's so sad that everyone has to be here during Christmas. Think of all the families waiting for their father, or brother, or husband to come home again.

But anyway.

This Christmas was not as bloody as the rest of the war.

We in the German army started singing Christmas carols.

And despite the cold.

The bloody, silent cold. It felt like home in Germany for a moment.

After a while the French- and Englishmen started singing along.

It was a man from each camp who met up in the middle, between the trenches, and decided that we should have peace. At least during the Christmas night.

We all gathered in the middle after a while, and some people even played soccer. But not me though. I've never been much for soccer, as you know.

And then I met him again.

Nestor.

He also sat on the sidelines, while the others played soccer. And I sat next to him.

It was a little awkward at first. Because I didn't know how to thank him, or because of all the fine details in his face that I couldn't notice from such a distance before and that made me a little nervous now, I couldn't say.

I saw more detail now up close.

His hair was dark, like a crow's feathers. And his eyes, like two storms out at sea.

He seemed so brave and mature in the way he observed everyone during the soccer game. As if he had been through a lot, even though he's lived barely a year longer than myself.

But he also looked a little lost. As if confused. Or perhaps miserable.

He was also quite thin. From the slender shoulders to his slim stomach, and legs. It didn't look like he was sick, but..

It just felt like it wasn't enough, in a way.

When I realized that I had been staring at his figure a second longer than I should have, I cleared my throat and looked at the ground.

I was a little ashamed. But he didn't seem to notice. Or care maybe.

We talked for a while and he was actually very nice.

He told me about his family. About being an only child, and all the pressure that came with it.

After he finished talking, I told him about mine.

He felt oddly relatable though he's in the opposite family situation compared to me.

But it felt like he understood.

All the pressure that came with this particular war. What would happen if we didn't win? And what would happen if we did?

I got a strange feeling of nausea when we talked about who would win the war.

What if we won, and he died? Or vice versa?

The thoughts were too much at that moment, so I chose to push them away for the time being.

As the soccer game was coming to an end, Nestor looked much happier.

I told him some of your infamous jokes, and he loved them.

His laugh sounded so genuine. So inviting and warm, despite the cold night that surrounded us.

There was something about him that felt different.

Like home. But different from back in Germany. Like another kind of home. A kind I never knew existed before.

Like he filled a void in me I didn't even know I had. A void I didn't know needed to be filled. (please don't do me dirty here)

When the soccer game was over, everyone gathered in the middle of the field again, including me and Nestor.

I met some of Nestor's friends. He had to translate, though, since his friends and I didn't fully understand each other. But it went well.

Then we saw a cat pass by.

It was apparently a cat that had been in the trenches. The other German soldiers had named it "Felix" because they thought it looked like me (the same green eyes and blonde hair). But those in the French army had named it Nestor because apparently he was the one who found the cat in their trench.

Neither I nor Nestor thought it had to be named after ourselves. Nor that it had to be such a big deal.

We were a little embarrassed by their quarrel, to be honest.

So in the end Nestor and I decided to name the cat Felix as it's first name, and Nestor as it's last name. I actually wanted Nestor's name before mine since it sounded much more proper than mine. But Nestor insisted, and I couldn't deny that.

Besides, he looked so pleased after we decided the order of the names.

And he smiled that smile that spread a warm, slightly tickling feeling in my stomach.

The Christmas celebrations eventually ended and everyone would go back to their trenches.

I could see large masses of soldiers disappearing in three different directions, heading back to their camp. I looked at the German camp, and then at the French. But couldn't find Nestor.

I was afraid that I wouldn't have the time to say goodbye before the war would begin again. But then I found him.

He was standing a few meters away, and I got that feeling in my stomach again.

There he was, his head looking in every direction in a matter of seconds. Almost as if he was looking for something.

I walked up to him before he could notice me, and gave his back a hug. He was taller than me so my arms were under his.

He made a surprised squeak as he turned around to stare at me.

At first he was a little confused, but it only took a few seconds before he looked more comfortable and hugged back. He was so warm. A contrast to the winter air.

I told him how much he mean to me and how happy I am that I have met him. Despite the short time we spent together, it felt like we'd known each other our entire lives. And everything about him just felt…

Right.

He was quiet for a while. And I don't know if it was a trick from the night, or if his usually pale cheeks got a little color. But the red shade suited him. It complimented his features.

And then. He closed the distance between us, his lips on mine.

They were soft and gentle. It felt like he kissed me for an eternity, until the second it ended.

When he backed up a little, the red color had traveled all the way to his ears.

Almost as if he had been slapped hard across the face. Or as if his cheeks got so cold because of the temperature, and that that would be the reason for his cheeks to turn into this hue of dark red.

But it wasn't.

I knew that. Because his cheeks were warm.

He said he hopes we win the war and that he hopes I'll be fine when I get back home afterwards.

He hugged me one last time, extra tight. And that was when I realized how strong he actually was, though he was pretty skinny.

He almost crushed me. But it felt good in a way.

Like a proper "goodbye", unlike the one I got from my mother when I left. The look she gave me. The disgusted look. And at the same time a warning that if I screw this up, it's over for me.

He then hurried to his friends in the French camp, and I felt the warmth disappear with him as he left.

When I went back to the trenches that night, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

How he hugged me. Kissed me.

And how I would never get to experience that warmth again.

A week later, when the war was on again, I saw Nestor. But it wasn't the same warm and tickling feeling that I had experienced before, that now filled my body.

Now it was pure panic.

I made eye contact with him for a few seconds. But then he was shot by someone from the German army.

He looked into my eyes as he fell dead to the ground.

I couldn't help the tears that flooded my eyes, down my cheeks the second his eyes closed.

His soft cheeks against the hard, dirty ground.

I hid my head behind the path of the trenches and wept as I had never done before.

It hurts so bad.

And not like a wound that goes away after a while. Not like the wounds mother gave me every time she got ashamed of me.

This was something much deeper, and that hurt a thousand times more.

This was an indescribable pain.

The reason I'm now writing to you Elise is because I don't know if I'll live another month, another week, or even another day here.

You're the one who's been there for me the most during my time in Germany after father died. And the one who understands me.

I don't want to die without you knowing what happened. And I want you to be able to explain all of this to Lily one day if I don't come back.

I wish for you to say hello to Mother and Lily, and for you to tell them that I love them.

So much. And that I always did.

Even though she hasn't treated me very well, I will never stop loving Mother Heidi.

Nor you.

Thank you for always being there when I needed you. Take good care of yourself and the rest of the family.

Be well, much love

// Felix

Author's note: This is my first story and I hope you all like it. Idk if it's good or not. I tried to have some facts in it like the peace during Christmas and the cat, but idk.

Lmk if you'd like it from Nestor's POV or if you want me to write it as if they are living it, and not as it was written now (like a letter).

Thanks <33

[moonperished]

The Sun and the Moon

Mikey and Jinwoo have been inseparable since Mikey was five.

He can remember being a very easy-going seven-year-old with a bunch of little sisters that he was worried about. The youngest was two at the time, so of course one very trained eye is on his sisters. Growing up in that big mansion, he was always running around with his cousin Sunny and so when Sunny told him that she was going to have a new little brother, his mind went everywhere. That meant a new friend, someone to play soccer with and go to school with.

He was so excited, he ran to tell his mom about it who told him gently, "He's going to be coming in very scared, you can't just run up to him and ask questions." At this point, he learns about what a foster child is, making him even more careful to learn how to help.

Seo Jinwoo is a helper. That's what his mom said. And he feels powerless to help when Mikey is brought home for the first time. Could someone be that small? He was five, but he looked so much smaller. The bandages wrapped around his tiny arms, he looked like he might break. The new boy doesn't talk either, he wails. He reminds him of his youngest sister, and he wants to help soothe but he doesn't know how. He's worriedly tugging on one of his uncle's hands, quietly asking questions. "Is he going to be okay?"

His name is Mikey, that's what they said. Oh Hyungseo at the time. And he hears a lot of words from his uncles and parents. A lot of big scary words about Mikey. He doesn't know what any of them mean yet, but is a seven-year-old supposed to know what an abuse case sounds like or abusive ex-wives and divorces?

Mikey approaches him on his own a year later when his dad's mental health has started to decline. His dad's emotions are all over the place, he can see the stress on his mom's face when a medicine suddenly doesn't work. His dad isn't a violent man, not at all. But the medicine isn't working, and it's one day that his uncles pick him up from school and tell him that his parents are 'at the doctors and will be back in a few days', while he's picking at his nails on the back step, does Mikey sit with him.

"I like soccer." It's said after a quiet moment, and from then on they were best friends. Cousins, perhaps. But best friends. Mikey was the sun, Jinwoo was the moon. Jinwoo's presence began to bring out Mikey's personality to his family's happiness. A friend, that was all Jinwoo needed to even out his anxiety at eight years old.

For a mid-twenties Jinwoo, it's a weird memory to think of while he sits with Mikey at the tattoo parlor. They've gone from being wild eyed kids running around the mansion backlot to professionals. Hell, Mikey is married. When he'd gotten married, Mikey had voiced his concern about his ex-husband, saying that he didn't trust someone who spoke so wildly about people without care. He should have listened to him, but Mikey didn't ever say he told him so. When his mental health took the worst turn, it was Mikey who slept on the floor of his room, who woke up every hour to make sure that he was okay and if he needed anything; whether it was a snack or someone to cry on.

He didn't deserve him, and yet he couldn't deal with not having Lee Hyungseo around.

His best friend's warm cocoa eyes flash to him, a laugh in his chest. "You look like you're going to combust. It's just a needle."

"You're braver than I am, Mikey. Sheesh."

[sendaidivision]

Takumi's Thoughts on Kanazawa Division

Wataru Sasaki

"Ah, a police officer! He seems to be a very stern-looking gentleman. To tell you the truth, I see a lot of my father in him. Both of them obviously didn't have it easy. Between their work life, losing their significant others, and taking care of their children, I know that it was difficult. ...I regret that I wasn't able to thank him or apologize for all the trouble I've been when I had the chance..."

Kyler Aaron

"Another American?! And he seems well-built, just like the one from Okinawa! Apparently, he had quite a career in high school as a football (soccer) player! If that's so, maybe I can ask him to stop by here for a couple of days and show the students a thing or two about kicking the ball around!"

Joey Kurusu

"Hmm... no offense, but he seems a little scrawny and nerdish to be a police officer. Perhaps, he should spend less time playing video games and reading comics, and more time out on the race track with his peers building up his muscles! I wonder if Wataru-san will give me permission to take him under my wing and train him for a bit!"

Justice Shield

"Like Ryūzō mentioned, having a team of cops in the D.R.B... it is hard to tell whether to be happy or worried about that. I'm a bit at a loss as to who exactly it is they are searching for. I mean, I won't claim to know everyone participating in the D.R.B., but no one here seems all that bad. ...But of course, I have been wrong before..."

[surveysonfleek]

1664.

When was the last time you did clay work/pottery? literally 2020, i ordered a clay kit during lockdown and made this weird pen holder lol

Do you like art, hate it or just not mind it? i thoroughly enjoy it. im a sucker for an art gallery. i dont understand ‘all’ art but its still fun to check out

If you had to choose would you prefer dull pain for 12hours or sharp for 2? dull pain

Koala or Kangaroo? koalas are way cuter

Do you know the words to the national anthem of your country? yes

Is your country ruled by a president, prime minister, queen or other? pm

Does blue occur in your national flag? yes

Talking of flags. Do you like football/soccer? If yes, do you play and what position? no... hot take but i think soccer is so boring to watch

Would you rather be a Model, Famous Scientist, Singer or Chef? singer

Would you rather be a pilot, crime scene investigator or estate agent? pilot i think!

Does making others happy really make you feel happy? yes! it certainly makes me feel good, thats for sure

What colour literally doesn’t appear in your wardrobe at all? i think i should at least own one of each colour in my closet bit i guess i rarely wear yellow

Do you actually read the answers others give to your surveys? i dont make surveys

Did you ever swear at a teacher in school? Why? nah

Have you ever pricked your finger on Holly or another ‘sharp’ plant? yea, probably 

Speaking of Holly, do you adore Christmas or does it bug you? i enjoy xmas but i really hate consumerism and the tradition my family and my partner’s family has with giving semi expensive gifts. i feel pressure to have to give them something back just as expensive ugh

Have you ever wrote your own short story? What about a novel? Or perhaps you started and couldn’t finish? only for school

Do you prefer SciFi/Fantasy/Action/Horror or Rom/Com/RealLife? i have a really short attention span so its been awhile since ive sat down and watched a ‘serious’ movie. the most recent movie i watched was a romcom

What do you have a lot of faith in [note: can be anything]? idk sadly

Think of a material thing you want. Name it here (material, made or bought). Would $100/60 be enough for this item? How about $1000/600? i want a new iphone. i think they go for like $1500ish

Would you rather have a big house, a lot of kids or a high flying job? high flying job as long as im happy with it

Have you ever been to a creepy/haunted/abandoned place? What did it look like and what were the circumstances? no, im too much for a scaredy cat to do that What’s your favourite dip? french onion

Chocolate Cookies or Fudge Brownies? brownies

I give you a little baby puppy. What do you name him? oh man, idk. id be spending a lot of time thinking of a name

Is crime a big problem in your area? not really tbh

What’s your town/city most well known for? white people lmao Do you know a Jack? What’s he like? How about a Lisa? What’s she like? i dont know any jacks personally. or lisas haha.

Are most your friends older, younger or the same age as you? theyre all around the same age

Do you subconsciously hang out with those with the same star sign as you or as each other, perhaps due to certain personality traits? haha no

Name 5 objects that you don’t have but would like right now? a new phone, new clothes, a handbag, a new car and more candles. i basically just need an upgrade of everything i currently have

When you have children, would you like twins? my partner wants twins sooooo badly. id be happy to have them but defs fine with one baby too hah Do you know any twins? If so, what are they called? i work with a twin, idk her brother’s name

If you were given the choice to choose your child’s gender, would you? id choose a girl first

What instrument would you love to learn how to play? piano properly

Does the sound of knocking/tapping startle you? yes

What’s the scariest story/urban legend/creepypasta etc you heard? haha i really cant think of any from the top of my head

Do you miss someone currently? yasss

When was the last time you were in hospital? What for? i forgot! which is a good thing

When was the last time you went to the dentist? last year

Do you get along well with your family doctor/your doctor? pretty well. which reminds me, i need to grab a script soon

What personality trait does nearly everyone in your family seem to have? i think were all pretty good listeners

[verratensduo]

A drabble based on my rp with @the-silver-peahen-residence for Terry and Eren (I will try to reply to our threads soon I promise)

—-

Eren ran out onto the field with the rest of his little league team. One of Terry’s friends had to drop him off here, but Terry had promised to be there after his business meeting. He had promised to be sure that it did not run long or at least that it did not run overtime. Eren was excited to show his skills to Terry. The boy had been surprised how easy it was to get Terry to agree to little league soccer, but then again his anger management had been coming along great. So perhaps it had been to reward him.

Eren looked to the stands expectantly, but his heart sank. He couldn’t see Terry anywhere. He looked back to the field somewhat bitterly. He should have known, that stupid company took Terry’s time, even when Terry had promised it would be a day for them, they called him in. He didn’t know why he bothered getting his hopes up. He would just be playing soccer, and albeit with his friends, he had so badly wanted Terry to be there. For them to have something to share being proud of Eren over, yeah he did good in school, but that hardly made him proud. School was easy. He hardly struggled.

Sports on the other hand, those where hard. And Terry had missed his last two Karate tournaments. Two, and those were all day. He sighed and shook his head depressed. He better focus on the game. He could see the look on coach Hans’s face. The man knew how Eren had looked over there and for who. He gave him a thumbs up to let him know he could still play.

His friends Armin, Connie, Marco and well, his rival Jean were all counting on him. They where a few wins away from the play offs. Then they could very well be in the county finals. That would be exciting. But they had to win this first. A tie would not do. Nor would a loss, only a win for them qualified. Especially since their record would not justify a spot in the wild card tournament.

The instant the whistle sounded, Eren was game. He had learned to tone down his aggression a lot since he started playing, but he was neck and neck with the other team’s captain, the older Reiner Braun. The two where in some heated completion for the ball.

The two teams went back and forth, winding up tied at half time. Eren said nothing as he sipped his Gatorade and munched on his healthy snack.

“Eren get your head in this, we need to win, and you are our best goal kicker!” Jean hissed at him. “We only need one more goal to win!” Well that was easier said than done of course. But Jean was being Jean.

“Stick it horse face.” Eren said not looking up at him. He was still upset that Terry was not there. He definitely was not in the mood for Jean being Jean.

“Eren you should be nicer.” Marco chastised and then looked to Jean. “And you get off Eren. He is just having an off day. It happens to the best of us.”

That was when a new, yet familiar voice joined the fray.

“Come on Eren, a tie? I know you can play better than that.”

Eren’s eyes widened as he stood up and turned. Sure enough, there stood Terry, with their dog Ace on a leash. When had he gotten there?

“Terry!” Eren ran to him and hugged him after Terry picked him up and spun him around. “When did you get here?”

“Tail end of the half. Sorry kid, stopped at home to change and Ace just had to come, then the dang car broke down on the way here. So we had to run the rest of the way.” Okay that last part was a lie. He had to stop and become Batman and stop a crime real quick, but Eren was still important, so he made it there on time. “Now, I know the field sides have changed, going downfield gives you the advantage. Get back out there and show them who Eren is.”

Eren nodded. “Yes Terry, can we get Ice Cream in the way home?” The boy asked as he looked up at him.

“Of course. Wouldn’t be a sports day without it.” Terry nodded and ruffled Eren’s hair.

“With sprinkles?”

“Only if you win kiddo. Sprinkles are for winners.” Terry knew it would give Eren the extra motivation he needed to win.

“Then sit back and watch me get three goals!” Eren declared and hurried back onto the field.

Ace then looked up at Terry with a whine.

“I know Ace, but I believe in Eren. He is a good boy, and excellent soccer player.” Terry assured the dog and petted him as he watched Eren take the field and lead the charge. With any luck, he would owe the boy ice cream with sprinkles soon.

[gabegoodmcn]

Gabe (full name Gabriel) Goodman, who has just turned eighteen, is an intelligent, ambitious, and charming young man. He seems to have everything going for him; popular at school, a great group of friends, dashing good looks, and top grades. He is on the soccer team, playing the center midfielder position with dreams on playing professionally one day. Gabe is also in jazz band and is part of the key club; a club that does a lot of volunteer work in the community.

However, Gabe has undiagnosed bipolar disorder (which will become diagnosed in time) that is inherited from his mother, Diana. This paired with the stress of maintaining his "perfect life" causes Gabe to go out partying. A lot. He's able to hide it for a time but then his parents begin to notice. He doesn't care, though. Things get worse. He tries drugs during one of these parties and ends up passing out. His friends worry, carrying him home. This sets his mom off, her own mental illness worsening. His dad is angry, thinking Gabe will destroy their normal, perfect family despite the fact that their family has never been normal or perfect. His younger sister, Natalie, feels ignored and overshadowed by her brother — a frequent occurrence.

Once Gabe recovers, he promises to never do it again. Does he keep that promise? No. He does it again. His bipolar disorder (which he still doesn't know he has at this point) makes him feel like he's losing his mind. He suffers the symptoms and believes he might end up tear himself apart just to get inside and fix whatever is wrong with him.

On one terrible night out, Gabe goes completely off the rails. In a fit of mania, he climbs on top of his school. While up there, he hallucinates. He believes he's on a stage, that he can hear rock music playing! There are happy shouts! An audience cheering for him from below. Like he's a rock star. And what do rock stars do? They crowd-surf! Which is exactly what Gabe does. He leaps into the crowd, arms out like he's flying.

He's free.

But there is no happy crowd. Nobody to catch him. He isn't flying. In reality, those happy cheering, are screams of horror, shouts for help, please someone call 911! Gabe isn't a rock star on a stage. He's just a young boy in desperate need of help. He plummets to the concrete. The emergency services arrive and rush him away. Gabe goes into cardiac arrest. The ambulance staff perform CPR all the way to the hospital, keeping him alive but only barely.

They treat him, managing to restart his heart and save his life. However, Gabe falls into a coma. It's there he remains for the next ten months. During this time, he becomes what is essentially a "coma ghost" and is able to follow his family/friends around. He is angry, vengeful, and hateful of the world. He is a sinister energy that only grows darker the more he believes people are forgetting him. But deep down, he is remorseful and desperate for a second chance at life. When he finally realizes how loved he is, Gabe stops blaming others and looks inward. Looks at the things he can change. That he will change if he can just get one more chance.

Thankfully, he wakes up after those ten months and doesn't have any lasting brain injuries. Of course, he needs to relearn how to walk as well as other basic actions such as how to use cutlery and tie shoelaces. He is able to speak the same only needing help with a few words he temporarily forgets. His voice remains quiet and tired for a few weeks following his return to consciousness. This gradually sorts itself out.

He apologizes to his loved ones for the grief he put them through. They vow to help him and his mom admits that she thinks he should be tested for bipolar disorder. While he was in a coma, it gave her time to think and she came to wonder if he perhaps inherited it from her. This is what leads to Gabe being properly diagnosed and receiving the help he needs. Slowly, his life starts to look better than it ever did. He continues with his classes but recognizes that he doesn't have to push himself so much to be perfect because perfection doesn't exist. He remains on the soccer team but attends extra training with his coach and captain to help him get back on track. He hopes that with their help and his own tenacity, he still has a shot at making it into college on a soccer scholarship.

[dweemeister]

By Matias Grez

July 23, 2023

(CNN) — Football has consumed much of Cedella Marley’s life. But perhaps that should not come as a surprise.

As the daughter of global reggae icon Bob Marley, who was a renowned lover of the beautiful game, Cedella was never far from a soccer ball growing up. Had he not been a musician, Cedella recalls her father telling her, he would have wanted to be a soccer player.

“Daddy played every day,” Marley told CNN Sport. “He would play anywhere he was: on the road, you’d find a field, you’d find a team.

“Sometimes, it would be the photographers who were out there, you know; sometimes, it would be the journalists and it would be the band against the journalists.

“I watched him growing up, I also watch my brothers, Ziggy and Steve. They played football growing up, too, and it was just always something that I loved. I love to kick a ball and was super competitive when my brothers would challenge me.”

Recalling advice given to her by Pelé, Cadella smiled broadly as she repeated the words the Brazilian all-time great told her: “The ball is round and always take the penalty.”

“So everything to me was a penalty,” Marley laughed. “I’d be like: ‘I’m just going for the goal,’ and that love is just something that is just in my DNA. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Though she has loved soccer for as long as she can remember, for many years, Marley’s involvement in the game didn’t extend beyond kickabouts with her father and brothers.

But that all changed in 2014 when one day her son came home from school and handed her a flier, saying that his soccer coach had asked him to deliver it to her.

“I’m reading it … I’m like: ‘Wait, Jamaica has a women’s football team? Where did this come from?” she said.