#It is also a reminder how the skipper are loved by his teammates and a lot of his fans

[duahauuoplanh]

does your captain score directly from a corner because mine quite just did.

[aggimaginary]

The Grinch 2: Happy New Year Capter 2-Agatha Galido

Somewhere in the big universe, the Earth is one of the planets of the Solar system, and our home planet or home world. The world of the Whos is quite different from our world, the world where we lived in. The world of the Whos is probably from other solar system or other galaxy. It's like a dimension. And in Earth, in the country called Philippines, there was a woman named Agatha Galido, a.k.a Aggie.

This human girl is born with large insect-like fairy wings and is the only human around with such wings. Ever since she was a child, she was always loved by her family and relatives, but never have good friends in school because of being so different, making her feel miserable and friendless. When she was almost old enough, her father invented an interdimensional remote control that can open portals or gateways to many different worlds in the whole universe. Using this remote, Aggie made lots of friends that are different and unique species than her. Some are also humans like her, some are animals, and some are like cartoon and animated characters from TV. Some are also super heroes and magical creatures that weren't exist in Aggie's world. When she started making friends, like when she was 10 years old, Aggie created a team, called the Imaginary team, a.k.a. the I team, that can spread love and friendship in different worlds in the universe, and showed to everyone how friendship is important to everyone and everywhere. Since Aggie made almost more than 200 friends, she created groups according to the respective worlds where her friends lived. Since there are 36 groups, she also divided the whole team into three division; Main, Honorary, and Back-up. 22 groups in Main, 10 groups in Honorary, and 4 groups in Back-up. Aggie became the leader of the whole I team, despite that her teammates themselves are her mentors. Aggie and her team became the new owners the most power elements in the universe; The Elements of Friendship. Each group owned just one element. Some group shared the same element, according to which they represented. As the leader, Aggie represented the leading element: Imagination. Because of her position, Aggie have to look out for her team, and she loved them all like a family.

When she was 21, Aggie received a family heirloom that was originally owned by a dark god of the Land of the Forgotten in Mexico, and it's called a wand staff. Aggie's family heirloom was protected and kept by five families; Galido, Borra, Resano, Mondejar and Besares. Aggie belongs to these five families, with Galido (at her father's side) and Mondejar (at her mother's side) as her major families. Even before she received a wand staff with different magical powers, Aggie already developed super and magical powers from her powerful friends by giving her half of theirs, like sharing powers. The wand staff has been a magical heirloom of the five families, required with a spell book that contained the histories of the previous owners and magical spells they have written in it.

For many years that the I team kept organizing, the team had increased their status that each group was called by their respective element to fix a friendship problem that is related to their element either in their respective world or in other worlds that they never visited just yet. So, Aggie asked her dad to make more interdimensional remote controls for her friends, but it's quite impossible since the remote needed more energy and power for the remotes. Since the team has magical wishing members, like fairy godparents, Aggie wished for a interdimensional remote control for each group, and the leader/s are in-charge to hold the remote.

Since it was so many years, Agatha Galido is now 43, got married with one of her friends from another world and her third-in-command, which is was a red bird named Red, when she was 24, got three children and one egg. Ever since she has the power to transform into any form, she was an albino bird when she got pregnant with her 4th child, and laid an egg. The egg was five days old, so it won't be hatch so soon. Today, after Christmas, Aggie was having a great resting time with her team and family in their secret I team HQ under her and her parents' house. Aggie's parents are not as old as we thought, so they are still alive. They didn't mind of their daughter taking care of her team and family under their house. Aggie and only the Main division were sitting on the meeting table that shaped like a big letter 'I'.

"Wow, that was the best Christmas party ever we had last night," Lily said.

"I know! I can't wait for another party next year," Blueberry Pie jumped up in excitement.

"That's too soon, Blueberry," Cubby chuckled.

"I thought this is called 'Hearth's Warming day'" Gemstone thought.

"Christmas, Hearth's Warming, they're the same," Poof corrected.

"Everyone's always excited for Christmas, including us," Jet added.

"It's a good thing you two didn't ruin Christmas again this year," Saltor scoffed.

"Because Jet and I learned a lesson that we should respect our holiday; Halloween," Jack Skellington stated proudly.

"Well, at least you survived. I almost cried when I thought you two were dead!" Aggie cried out loid.

"You're 13 that time. You always cry," Sally Skellington reminded.

"Thank you for reminding me," Aggie replied sarcastically.

"It's quite shame that Mom, Dad, Phineaks and Israbellra didn't spend Christmas with us," Marie Flynn said.

"Yeah, neither do Uncle Flerk and Ferb," Maren Flynnto added.

"Yeah, well, your parents had to go to back to your world and to Switzerland for the award ceremony next week," Aggie explained. "And even Ferb and Flerk are still in Camp David. Those guys are very busy. At least Vanessa, Varessa, Thomas and Themas attended."

Marie sighed dreamingly, "Yeah, Thomas is so sweet."

Frantis almost barfed in disgust, "Uh, you do know you guys are cousins, right?"

"Umm, their fathers are stepbrothers. So, their not related," Tootie corrected.

"I just still don't get why Basil wasn't in a mood to celebrate Christmas," Jerry said. "Sure, he attended, but he doesn't seem to have fun with us."

"You already know detectives, like Sherlock Holmes, Basil was not in a mood for Christmas joy. He's always been like that for years," Pilair replied.

"So, any plans for New Year? We only have five days left," Skenda asked.

"We can have colorful fireworks," Roo suggested.

"Fireworks can be nice, but no fountain, no firecracker, no harmful firework stuff. They might blow your fingers," Leia warned.

"She's right. We don't want to have fireworks incident in the team, just like what happened to Aggie's neighbors last year," Chet agreed.

"Yeah, lots of fingers blew up last year," Smantha added.

"We can use my Pixie dust Snow ball Firework Shower spell. That's safe," Aggie lifted her wand staff.

"How about the candles? You know, the sparking ones and colorful flame ones." Fred Figglehorn inquired.

"As long as they don't explode," Azul was concerned.

"But, where can we celebrate?" Lola questioned.

"Grandpa Leo and Grandma Bernadette invited us upstairs," Amaranth Red raised her hand. "The backyard is so wide, so there's enough space for all of us to watch the fireworks in New Year's Eve."

"Close enough. We didn't celebrate New Year with Mr. and Mrs. Galido for a while," Blossom nodded.

"Okay, so we already know where we will celebrate and what stuff we will use, any more ideas?" Baby Bugs asked as he listed in the what-to-do list about New Year plans.

"How about a song for New Year?" Chyna got up from her chair, and then, pointed Aggie, "And Aggie will sing!"

"What? Why me?" Aggie asked.

"Come on, Aggie, you haven't sing a song every New Year for years. You only counted on us. It's your turn," Miley explained.

Aggie sighed, "Fine. I'll try my best. I'll just find a perfect song."

"Great! All we have to do is to invite the Honorary and Back-up divisions here for the New Year," Perry said.

Just then, Crimson Red noticed his mother's element on her I team ID began to glow.

"Mom! Your element! It's glowing!" He pointed out loud.

The whole Main I team heard the half-bird as Aggie looked down at her ID where she saw her element glowing and blinking.

"Sweet Celestia, Aggie!" Rarity gasped. "You were called. This means there is a friendship problem!"

"How come there could be friendship problem after Christmas and before New Year?!" Red growled.

"Everyone has problems all the time, Red. Including you before you became a hero," Stella recalled.

"Yeah. Thanks for telling me that, sis," The red angry bird rolled his eyes.

"Kowalski, Kelda, activate the map!" Skipper commanded.

The tall penguin and his adoptive guardian or wife saluted as they pushed two buttons together, and the table showed the hologram of the Earth.

"Alright then, where the friendship problem could be in my world?" Aggie looked up at the Earth hologram.

"Let's see here," Kowalski swiped the hologram of the Earth to rotate it and find a friendship problem, "So, there's no friendship problem in your world, Aggie."

"How about all of our worlds?" Captain Jake inquired.

When Dr. Blowhole and Dr. Blest typed something on the keyboards, the hologram showed a live footage of every world that the I team lived.

"Okay. The New York City and Central Park Zoo is okay. No friendship problem," said the reformed villain dolphin.

"Not even in Halloween town," Samuel checked on the footage of his and his family's home world or home town.

"The Hundred Acre woods is always peaceful," Rabbit said.

"Fairy world and Dimmsdale is fine," Timmy added.

"No monsters, crime or even quarreling happened in Townsville," Bubbles said about her world.

"Bird Island is still peaceful and happy community," Hal told them.

"Webster High and Z-tech is still good," Fletcher looked at the footage of his and his two friends' old and current schools.

"Our world is okay," Tom announced.

"So was ours, and Kat and Kit's home planet," Coop gritted his teeth, not wanting to mention his former enemy's home planet.

"Our world seems good too," Oggy said.

"So was Danville, O.W.C.A., and other countries," Pelry concluded.

"Including the 2nd dimension," Dofelia added.

"Pixie Hollow and the Winter Woods are still balance," Tinker Bell stated.

"Neverland is still clean," Skully scanned the footage of Neverland.

"Acme Acres in the future has no trouble," Petunia announced.

"Not even at our home," Baby Petunia added.

"Hollywood is still shining," Oliver made a thumb-up.

"My home town is also good," Fred Figglehorn nodded.

"No Devinos attacking in our town," Serio pointed.

"The Do-Jo and our world weren't affected by the master," Yin said.

Her brother, Yang, cleared his throat, "Umm, it's because there's no night master anymore, remember?"

"Shut up," the pink rabbit was annoyed by the blue one.

"Everything's fine all of the planets we visited years ago," Han mentioned.

"Starlight City has no trouble at all," Skidmark said.

"Equestria is also good," Twilight looked at the footage of Equestria.

"Did you guys check the worlds of the Honorary and the Back-up?" Aggie asked.

"Yeah, the chickens, the Kids Next Door, the herd of sheep, Pasadena, Transylvania, Zootopia, Mousedom, the garden gnomes in their world, Stork Mountain, and cars world are all okay and safe. No friendship problem at all," Clover Scarlet answered her mother.

"The Danger HQ, Smurf Village, the Lands of the Remembered and Forgotten, and the ocean where Marlin, Nemo and Dory lived are in peace too," Roy added.

"If none of our worlds have any friendship problems, then we have to search the whole universe," Aggie suggested as the whole team nodded in agreement.

When the hologram map extended, showing the hologram of the whole universe, there was blinking white light on another galaxy, just beside Aggie's home galaxy.

"There it is!" She pointed.

The hologram zoomed on the blinking white light, and showed a town with lots of houses.

"Wow, that's a pretty cool town," Bubs commented.

"And snowy!" Crimson Red exclaimed, then frowned that there's no snow in the Philippines, "Lucky!"

"Oh well, I think I have to go dimension travel again," Aggie stretched her hands and arms.

"You mean, right now?" Piglet inquired, "But what about the plans and New Year?"

"I'm sorry, Piglet, but this is very important." Aggie apologized. "But this is very important."

"Are you not going to celebrate New Year with us, Aunt Mom?" Rebecca made a sad face.

"Of course I'm going to celebrate with all of you guys. Don't worry. When I'm done with the friendship problem, I'll be home in no time."

"That's right, Rebecca," Ruby patted her daughter's head. "Your step-mom is going to spend New year with all of us. She does this every year."

"Thanks, Rubs. Now, I have to bring my wand staff and my interdimensional remote control." Before Aggie gathered her things, she was interrupted for a moment.

"Just a moment, sis," Joseline halted her, "It's snowy in that world and the town. You need to wear your winter clothes."

"Don't worry, I got this," With a smirk on her face, Aggie wore a gray jacket and warm gloves to prepare herself before going to that world where she was called.

"Is that all you have to wear?" Lumpy asked.

"It was never snow here in the Philippines, so this is all I've got. Don't worry. I'll warm myself when I get there." When Aggie opened the portal with her remote, she turned her wand staff into a sled.

"Since when Xibalba taught you how to turn your wand staff into a sled?" Periwinkle inquired suspiciously.

"He didn't. I made the spell myself. Hey, I'm the owner of the wand staff now, so it's my turn to create my own spell," Aggie explained to her wing sister, "Oh, that reminds me…" She grabbed a backpack, then her big spell book, and put it inside of her bag. "Can't use my wand staff without a little guidance from the spell book!"

"Are you sure you have to do this?" Red looked at his human wife in concern and worry.

"I have to, Red," Aggie answered with a sigh. "It's my duty."

Her bird husband exhaled in defeat. Red truly respected Aggie's duty. Then, he pecked her on the lips, "Just be careful out there."

"I will. Thanks," Aggie kissed him back and waved at her team and family, "Bye guys!"

"See you soon, Aggie." Bomb waved.

"Bye, Mom. I love you!" Amaranth Red did a flying kiss gesture.

"Be safe," Wands added.

Aggie waved one last time before she stepped into the portal until her body disappeared as the portal closed.

When the whole Main I team was left behind, they still felt sad for their leader and best friend that a friendship problem called her just before New Year.

"Man, this is a rough New Year for Aggie," Matilda said.

"I know. I feel bad for her, too," Screwball added, worried for her adoptive aunt.

[junker-town]

A timeline of Jalen Ramsey’s hatin’ ass trash talk

The NFL’s best young cornerback isn’t afraid to speak his mind, which makes things fun for everybody who is a fan of the game.

Jalen Ramsey is one of the NFL’s best young cornerbacks and trash talkers. Anybody can talk some trash, but having the skills to back everything up makes for a lethal combination.

That’s Ramsey, making him a big part of why the Jaguars have gone from a dud team for the past decade to one of the NFL’s most exciting teams to watch. And since he entered the NFL, Ramsey has showed no sign of ever biting his tongue. That’s good news for everybody — except perhaps NFL wide receivers and other targets of his.

Keeping track of all of Ramsey’s hatin’ ass trash talk can be a tough, however — there’s a lot of it. For that, we have you covered. Below is timeline of all of his best moments since he entered the NFL in 2016. We’ll be updating it, so that you can keep up with Ramsey, his trash talk, and everything else that comes with it for as long as he’s producing.

Sept. 25, 2016: “Who got in who head?”

We knew Ramsey was a dog early in his career, because one does not simply talk trash to or about Steve Smith. And yet, he did — just three weeks into his career!

Smith approached Ramsey after the game and got in his face. After the game, Ramsey told reporters about Smith: “The game over with. You still mad because I was locking you up? Alright, go sleep on that.”

Jaguars CB Jalen Ramsey on Ravens WR Steve Smith: "He's still a good player. I'll say that about him. But I don't respect him as a man."

— Mark Long (@APMarkLong) September 25, 2016

“Any time I lined up on him. Hmm. You’re done,�� Ramsey said. “Y’all go watch that. Y’all go watch that. Y’all tell me who got in who head.”

The fact that it took Ramsey just three weeks into his NFL career to give us a signature quote, “Y’all tell me who got in who head,” is perfect. If that’s not in your vocabulary, add it.

Aug. 16, 2017: “6 quarterback options to replace Blake Bortles”

Blake Bortles is high up on the list of NFL Starting Quarterbacks Who Get Shit On Constantly. Jokes get tossed around about pretty much everybody nowadays on social media, but things are bad when your own teammates start going in.

That’s basically what Ramsey did by liking an Instagram post of a Big Cat Country article on potential Bortles replacements.

Bruh pic.twitter.com/wZs1zPEFtQ

— Dilla (@E_Dilla) August 16, 2017

This is basically the NFL equivalent of openly talking shit about a coworker, but not knowing they’re around the corner. Bortles wasn’t exactly around the corner on this one, but the internet was there to relay the message.

Bortles got some love after not playing as poorly during the postseason, and Ramsey has backed him up since. But we can’t forget this one. It also serves as a great reminder that people can always — always — see what you’re doing online.

Nov. 5, 2017: When he got in A.J. Green’s head

A.J. Green is a fairly quiet and laid back guy, as well as a spectacular wide receiver. But Ramsey brought out a side of him we had never seen before when the Bengals and Jaguars met up in Week 9 of the 2017 season.

Ramsey was in Green’s head the whole game, and after a shove that sent Green to the ground, it was on. Green went from a seven-time Pro Bowler to a mixed martial artist:

Both players were ejected for the scuffle. Later in the year, ESPN’s Darren Woodson showed Ramsey a picture of him and Green, and asked what came to mind. “Soft,” Ramsey said. “Charmin Soft.”

Woodson then asked what he could have possibly said to Green to make him go off like that. “I told him he was soft,” Ramsey said. “I just kept telling him he was soft, he’s soft.”

“He just got fed up,” Ramsey added. “That was it.” Unfortunately for all of us, the Bengals aren’t on the Jaguars’ schedule this season.

Jan. 12, 2018: Ramsey doesn’t know who Mike Mitchell is

Ahead of the Jaguars-Steelers AFC Divisional Round game, Ramsey was asked about comments made by Pittsburgh’s Mike Mitchell. Mitchell told SI, “We’re going to play [the Patriots] again. We can play them in hell, we can play them in Haiti, we can play them in New England. ... We’re gonna win.”

When asked if that comment was dismissal of the Jags by focusing on Steelers-Patriots, Ramsey said, “Who’s focused on them? Y’all focused on them?”

What do you think about the Steelers vs Patriots match-up? pic.twitter.com/J46eDj4KfV

— MadeByTim (@MadeByTim) January 11, 2018

After a reporter clarified there had been talk of that matchup, Ramsey asked, “Who?” The reporter replied, “The one Leonard trucked in the game.”

Then, the memories came back. “Oh,” Ramsey said, “I don’t much know him.”

June 26, 2018: Ramsey says Jimmy Garoppolo doesn’t belong in the NFL’s Top 100 list

The NFL offseason can feel like a never-ending drag, which the league combats by putting out a list of the top 100 players in the game. Most of the time, athletes make headlines by being outraged over where they think they should be on the list.

But leave it to Jalen Ramsey to take a jab at somebody else instead, and start something that way. Ramsey told NFL Network that he felt Jimmy Garoppolo didn’t deserve to be in the Top 100.

“Not yet,” Ramsey said. “What he played five games? He has good potential, I think he’ll be a good player. But in my experience playing him it was a lot of scheme stuff, it wasn’t like he was just dicing us up. It was a lot of scheme.”

That’s not some super burn, or even his best trash talk by any means. But the fact that Ramsey is OK with putting that out there as opposed to giving the typical cordial answer and moving along says everything about him.

July 4, 2018: His NFL Mount Rushmore that was him, him, him, and.... him

Hey! Another fun offseason thing bored media outlets like to do is ask people to construct a Mount Rushmore. NFL.com asked that question with an NFL slant, and Ramsey had the best answer by far:

“My Mount Rushmore is me with four different expressions.”

When you’re Jalen Ramsey, that’s the only answer. It’s not so much “hate”, but when you have the chance to put some of the game’s greats on a hypothetical Mount Rushmore, and you just choose yourself, that’s worthy of being on this list. Ramsey is also the standard for confidence goals.

Aug. 15, 2018: He just... vomited hella gems to GQ Magazine

Shouts out to Ramsey for replacing your morning coffee with zinger after zinger in his GQ interview with Clay Skipper. Here are all of the best bits of trash talk, condensed.

On Bills rookie QB Josh Allen:

I think [Buffalo Bills draft pick Josh] Allen is trash. I don’t care what nobody say. He’s trash. And it’s gonna show too. That’s a stupid draft pick to me. We play them this year, and I’m excited as hell. I hope he’s their starting quarterback. He played at Wyoming. Every time they played a big school—like, they played Iowa State, which is not a big school in my opinion because I went to Florida State, and he threw five interceptions, and they lost by a couple touchdowns or something like that.✞ He never beat a big school. If you look at his games against big schools, it was always hella interceptions, hella turnovers. It’s like: Yo, if you’re this good, why couldn’t you do better? He fits that mold, he’s a big, tall quarterback. Big arm, supposedly. I don’t see it, personally.

On Ravens QB Joe Flacco:

And just being honest about it, [Joe] Flacco sucks. I played him two years in a row. He sucks.

On how 49ers QB Jimmy Garoppolo might not be all that great:

They were like, “He beat the number one defense.” It was all schemes. He didn’t beat us. It wasn’t like he diced us up. It was literally all schemes. They were doing flat routes to the wide open fullback, and he’s running for 20 yards down the field four times during the game... So he didn’t really dice us up. It was their fullback and their tight end on over routes. But if you know how to work within your scheme then it means your good. I guess you could say he’s good.

It took a lot of him to call Rams QB Jared Goff good:

Jared Goff, he’s average to above average. He reminds me of Jimmy Garoppolo a little bit. Year one, he wasn’t good. He wasn’t even good enough to earn his own starting role. Like, if you the number one pick, you expected to start now. Period. He wasn’t ready to do that. He wasn’t able to do that. Then when he did get in, he didn’t really do that good. But in his second year, they got a new offensive coordinator. Your offensive coordinator is just your brainiac. When we played them, it felt like his offensive coordinator was drawing up perfect plays and then he was hitting the open man. For what his team ask him to do, yeah, he’s good.

On Giants QB Eli Manning:

Eli [Manning]... It’s not really Eli. I think it’s Odell [Beckham, Jr.]. I won’t say Eli’s good, I’ll say Odell’s good.

On Steelers QB Ben Roethlisberger:

Big Ben [Roethlisberger], I think he’s decent at best… It’s not Big Ben, it’s [Antonio Brown]. Big Ben slings the ball a lot of the time. He just slings it, and his receivers go get it. He has a strong arm, but he ain’t all that. I played him twice last year, and he really disappointed me. He’ll be in the Hall of Fame and all that.

On Colts QB Andrew Luck:

Andrew Luck—I don’t really think he’s that good.

On Falcons QB Matt Ryan:

I think Matt Ryan’s overrated. You can’t tell me you win MVP two years ago, and then last year, you a complete bust, and you still got Julio Jones? There’s no way that should ever happen. I don’t care. You know what that tells me? That tells me [Offensive Coordinator Kyle] Shanahan left, went to San Francisco, got Garoppolo, made Garoppolo this big thing. And now Garoppolo is a big name—and now [Matt Ryan] has this bad year? Alright, well, was it really you, or was it your coach? He was doing what was asked of him and it was making him look really, really good.

Aug. 30, 2018: More players who aren’t good!

In an interview with ESPN the Magazine’s Mina Kimes, Ramsey added people to his extensive list of players who Aren’t Good.

Danny Amendola:

In general, Ramsey continues, fans underestimate the effect that quarterback play has on wide receivers. For example, he says, look at Danny Amendola, who just signed with Miami. “Or is it Edelman?” he asks out loud. He mulls it over. No -- he’s thinking of Amendola. “He just got a brand-new contract and he is terrible,” he says. “People think he’s so great. No, he’s not. Tom [Brady] made him look good. Tom could take me as a receiver and I’d be a first-team All-Pro.”

Rob Gronkowski:

When I mention that the Patriots still have All-Pro tight end Rob Gronkowski, he makes a face. “I don’t think Gronk’s good.” Registering my involuntary blinking, he course-corrects. “Let me say -- I don’t think Gronk is as great as people think he is.”

[...]

I ask him what Gronk did in the AFC championship. “Literally nothing. He may have had, like, one catch,” he says. (Ramsey is correct, though Gronkowski left before halftime because of a concussion.)

Sept. 13, 2018: He’s not worried about Rob Gronkowski

“I don’t fear no man, period,” Ramsey said Thursday before the Jags’ Week 2 game against the Patriots. “So he’s going to have to come out there and line up on me. Or however it goes. He’s got to play us this year.”

Ramsey’s comments from GQ were brought up as well. He was told that Jaguars defensive coordinator Todd Wash said that anyone who believes Gronkowski is overrated is crazy. He said in response, “Might be crazy.” He added, “I don’t care.”

”... He’s good. He’s good, now. We ain’t going to get it twisted. He’s good, but, you saying this to me, is this supposed to bring fear to me or something?”

Oh, and he also said he would hit his grandma on the field:

Jaguars CB Jalen Ramsey says he “definitely would” hit his grandma on the field. “I love you, but you know that.” pic.twitter.com/9fQoHCAuxJ

— Mark Long (@APMarkLong) September 13, 2018

When a reporter tried to give him a chance to take it back, he doubled down. Nobody’s safe, apparently.

Oct. 4, 2018: He doesn’t hide his feelings about Tyreek Hill

“If he wants smoke, it’ll get there,” Ramsey said about Chiefs receiver Tyreek Hill, before a highly anticipated matchup in Week 5.

The day before, Hill had told reporters that he couldn’t wait to face off against “top dog” Ramsey.

That, predictably, got back to Ramsey, who let everyone know he doesn’t see Hill as a real receiver.

“He made All-Pro, as a return specialist — let’s get that right — as a return specialist his rookie year. He went to two Pro Bowls as a return specialist. Return specialist. Two years, I made All-Pro in my position as a corner. Went to the Pro Bowl as a corner, so it’s not a wide receiver vs. corner matchup,” Ramsey said.

Jalen Ramsey responds to Chiefs WR Tyreek Hill challenge. #jaguars pic.twitter.com/nJbZfVNOuL

— John Reid (@JohnReid64) October 4, 2018

Hill wanted a challenge, and it looks like he’s got one.

June 24, 2019: Ramsey passes on another chance to dump on some quarterbacks

This summer, Ramsey declined to weigh in on the quarterbacks he’ll play against in 2019. Instead, he took the opportunity to praise new Jaguars quarterback Nick Foles:

Last August, Jalen Ramsey did an interview with @GQMagazine and trashed a number of NFL QBs. When asked on the @AdamSchefter podcast to breakdown QBs he’ll face this year, Ramsey had this mature answer: pic.twitter.com/0HUBHXd4En

— NFL Update (@MySportsUpdate) June 24, 2019

Maybe Ramsey is moving on from constant trash talk. He did, after all, refuse to get involved in a Jaguars vs. Titans social war of words:

Lol @Jaguars & @Titans leave me out y’all twitter beef https://t.co/QIr0lzYZYd

— Jalen Ramsey (@jalenramsey) June 22, 2019

Or maybe his eventual new contract or the Jaguars’ 5-11 season caused him to dial it back. Either way, we don’t expect him to hold his tongue forever.

This timeline will be updated for more hateration throughout Ramsey’s career.

[initiala]

Casual Intimacy - COMMENTARY

@spartanguard and @yayimallamaagain both asked for me to do commentary on this Captain Hood AU. It’s sexual and slashy, so if it’s not your cup of tea, please keep scrolling

Thanks @unfolded73 for bringing this back, it was fun!

It felt like they’d known one another forever. They moved together on the field with ease, passing without thinking, sensing where the other was – just knowing they would be there with the assist. They stayed up late in the common area, going over plays and devising new ones, finishing each other’s thoughts late into the evening until someone inevitably reminded them about morning drills and the need for sleep. When one had a bad day, the other knew and was often the first to drag him out for a pint and some mindless entertainment to cheer him up. They had similar pre-game rituals, sat next to each other on roadies, and their teammates were surprised when one was seen without the other. They laughed and took the piss out of each other like the oldest of mates, but Killian and Robin had only been playing together since their first year at uni – sorry, freshman year.

Let’s start off with the hows of this story. Tina and I were chatting while I was at work one night and we were mostly bemoaning the fact that Oncers tend to stick very... safe and vanilla with their ships and smut. (where is the Sea DeVil tentacle porn I ask you??) It turned into how it’s interesting to actually have a fandom where there’s so much f/f compared to the sea of m/m, but then we were like “... okay but outside of Captain Charming ARE there any serious m/m ships?” And so here we are.

(Killian still had some trouble wrapping his mind around the linguistic differences between American and British English. At least he’d known better than to ask to borrow someone’s rubber in the middle of class.)

Sorry, Emma Watson, it’s just too funny not to throw in.

Regardless, he’d certainly heard of Robin Locksley before decamping to America and Robin had heard of Killian Jones; the amateur competitive football world was small back home and everyone knew who was being scouted by the leagues and by the universities. Locksley was good, a striker with the makings of an excellent skipper one day. They’d never played against one another, but everyone kept tabs on the big names.

There was a big to-do about if they’d play on the same team or just run into each other in the locker rooms a lot, but I’m me and it got sticky on the sport schedules. Killian was on the swim team for a while at the beginning but Robin was always on the footy team and so Killian eventually made his way over there to make it easy.

(No one had ever thought to mention how ruddy fit Locksley was. Oh, he’d noticed at first – beautiful people drew his eye in that way – but he’d had a few other dalliances before realizing just how bloody fucked he was when it came to Robin Locksley. It was during a rain delay that Killian had realized he was absolutely fucked when it came to Robin. They’d gotten caught in a downpour during warm-up drills and everyone had gotten soaked through, but Killian had zeroed in on how Robin’s kit clung to his well-defined muscles and the water ran down his chiseled jaw and bloody fuck he was well and truly fucked.. He’d also decided then that an artist should capture Rob’s beauty in marble, like the Greeks. Though it wouldn’t capture the way the sun glinted off his hair and made it shine, or the way his cheeks dimpled when he laughed, or the cold fury in his eyes when another player committed an unnecessary slide tackle and injured one of their teammates.)

The fact that they’d both been scouted for this small university’s football team – rather, soccer, as the Americans stubbornly continued calling it – just happened to be a twist of fate.

A rather cruel one, if he was going to be melodramatic about it – which he was apparently rather adept at, according to Swan.

Swan was his roommate, a lacrosse player with a mean right hook, a passion for grilled cheese, an old Volkswagen Beetle that he was constantly trying to keep running for her, and a penchant for throwing her pre-law books at him when he was in one of his “melodramatic moods”. And yes, Emma Swan was a girl – woman, as she and her friend Snow were fond of reminding him.

The university’s rather liberal policy of gender neutral residence halls had ended up quite in his favor, despite the book-throwing. While even he could admit that Swan was a striking example of womanhood, his tastes ran more towards the men. And sharing a room with another man had always run hit-or-miss for him in the past. Swan hadn’t even batted an eye that first year, offhandedly mentioned an ex-girlfriend named Lily, and then asked if his practice schedule was as grueling as hers.

This is also the “everyone is bi/gay AU”. And let me tell you, I was so happy to go to a university housing conference and learn all about the (slow) changes being made to allow different genders rooming together! While it’s VERY SLOW GOING (this is higher education we’re talking about, it’s slow turtles all the way down), most public universities and quite a lot of private ones are shifting policies to accommodate preferences for LGBT students.

They’d been the best of friends ever since.

“If I have to hear you sigh over Robin’s quads one more time, I’m banishing you to the lounge for the night,” she grumbled, highlighting something in a textbook.

“They’re just so–”

“Perfect, so I’ve heard. Just ask him out already.”

“I had to wait fifteen minutes before I could shower,” Killian said, flopping back on the futon with one of his lit texts. “Bloody git took forever.”

“Scandalous,” she remarked, her voice dry. “Can’t even shower together. Oh wait, yes you can, because half the LAX team is gay and we have no problem.”

“Women don’t have knobs, bit different,” he retorted.

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “There is nothing sexy about a locker room, Jones. Quit being a – a, what is it you always call Will?”

“Bellend,” he deadpanned.

British insults are a delight and thank you Gavin Free for using them constantly so I’m on form.

“Right, that. Stop being a bellend and just say something. And don’t give me another speech about ruining the team ‘vibes’.” She actually used air quotes, the sarcasm dripping from her tongue. “If nothing else, you have to learn to keep personal shit off the playing field. Or use it as fuel during a game.”

Either Tina or Steph were like “oh thank god you made ‘vibes’ sarcastic I would not allow this otherwise” during the beta/preview process, I forget. But either way.

Killian sighed, resting his book on his face. She was right, he knew she was right, but when it came to actually admitting his own feelings, he was the biggest chickenshit – one of Swan’s delightful Americanisms that had rubbed off on him.

He just didn’t know how Rob would react.

Tina has never gotten over calling Robin Hood Rob. It’s hysterical to me.

It wasn’t as if his teammates didn’t know about his sexuality; as Swan had said, coming out to his mates hadn’t ruined any of the team’s closeness. Locksley had clapped his shoulder, thanked him for his trust and honesty, and assured him that the team would do their best to return that trust and honesty.

Well, that was all very well and good when stating a general interest in men and women, but in Killian’s experience, men who had no interest in other men tended to react… poorly.

To put it mildly.

“Rob’s not like that.” Swan’s quiet voice broke through his thoughts.

“What, are you a mind reader now, love?”

She snorted. “No, that’s you. I just recognize that silence.”

“Come here.”

She did, dragging her textbook with her and settling against his side on the futon. She could be a pain in his arse sometimes, but she also knew the value of physical contact; he was, admittedly, more free in his general affection towards friends, but he counted himself lucky to be one of the small handful of people that Swan regularly showed any sort of affection towards.

Hi, my name is Amanda and I’m a goddamn CS shipper until my last breath on this miserable Earth and I WILL MAKE THEM SNUGGLE. PLATONICALLY OR NOT. It was SO HARD to keep their hands off each other, seriously. Just... jump on in there, Emma. You, Killian, Robin. It’ll be a grand time.

“I’ll bring it up tomorrow,” Killian said quietly.

Swan made a noise as if she didn’t entirely believe him, and truth be told he didn’t entirely believe himself, but it was said and it would be enough for her to hold him to it. “I have a test tomorrow,” she told him, settling more comfortably into the crook of his arm.

He breathed a laugh and pulled her in closer, picking his own book back up to get some reading done before he was too inconsolable to think of studying.

Perhaps Swan was right about his inclination towards the melodramatic.

His body may have been at practice, but his head clearly wasn’t. He was passable at drills, but he was easily distracted during the scrimmage and it did not go unnoticed.

“Jones,” Robin called.

His skip’s voice cut through the locker room chatter. Killian paused only after securing a towel around his own hips, ready to half-drown himself in the showers after that abysmal practice. “Aye, mate?”

Robin made his way through their teammates, giving Killian a critical once-over before speaking. “You alright?” he asked, dropping his voice now.

Even I don’t know if Robin was checking him out or not. Also, same sex pairings make pronouns THE W O R S T.

Killian glanced up, then away, irritated at himself for a multitude of reasons now. “Aye. Long night. Sorry, skip, I’ll get right tomorrow.”

Robin was silent for a moment, then reached out and clapped Killian’s shoulder. Killian had to fight the urge to lean into it, to show how the familiar gesture affected him as he stood there half-naked in the bloody locker room. “Shower up, we’ll go for a pint and a chat,” Robin ordered and turned before it could be argued.

So much for locker rooms not being sexy.

Killian stared after his friend’s retreating back, taking a long moment to compose himself and adjust the towel a bit before grabbing his caddy and stalking off to the showers.

The hot water and soap didn’t make him feel anything other than clean of sweat and grass stains. Try as he might, letting the water beat against his skin did nothing to relieve the guilt of giving less than his best or the anxiety gnawing at his gut at the conversation to come.

After he dressed, he went out into the hall to find Robin waiting for him. Wordlessly, they fell into step together, practice bags slung over their shoulders and hands shoved into their pockets. He followed Robin’s lead as they left the training facility and went down the street to their favorite dive bar – fairly empty at this hour, which would make Robin’s scolding easier to hear.

I don’t know why but I always envision this as a pub. I also have no idea where they’re going to university, so maybe there is an English-style pub near their facilities.

They ordered, and after the waitress brought their pints, they each took a long drink as Robin regarded Killian thoughtfully over the rim. “So,” he said, setting his glass down. “Something’s eating at you. And don’t give me any nonsense about everything being fine or I’ll go talk to Emma and she’ll tell me what’s really going on with you.”

Killian winced, setting his own glass down. Swan absolutely would, if for no other reason than she was an abysmal liar. “That’s a low blow, Locksley.”

“Aye, but you’re a right stubborn bastard when you put your mind to it, so my hand is forced. You’ve never played so badly, not in all the years I’ve known you. Even after the mess with that lass Milah and then your disastrous rebound with Jefferson.”

Those had been easier to handle – after Milah left, there had been nothing for him but throwing himself into the game, leaving everything on the pitch until he was spent, an empty shell left for Swan to care for, making sure he ate and had a decent night’s rest. Jefferson had been an angry affair, both of them lost and angry and winding up hurting the other more. But it had only led to more fuel, something like a dam breaking in Killian’s soul that flooded his body with pain and rage and powering his game until he was left with only quiet and acceptance inside.

Please join me in a vision about Killian and Jefferson, basically hatefucking each other until they can’t breathe, but there’s a bunch of h/c involved too. Like the most ridiculous S/M relationship ever where they just use each other until they don’t need one another anymore. 

Also Milah didn’t die in this one, I don’t know the story but she’s still alive somewhere.

But this, this situation held more at stake.

Swan’s voice was in his head, telling him she’d hold him to his statement yesterday, but he reasoned that if such a confession went poorly he would have nowhere to turn. He’d left his feelings out on the pitch after Milah, after Jefferson, but the pitch was where Robin was. Robin was his friend, his teammate, his skipper.

Robin kept things grounded with the rest of Killian’s world had fallen apart.

No matter the universe, Killian always seems to have someone he revolves around. He needs a center!

Killian took a long pull from his glass, stalling for time. Thankfully, their food arrived, and both young men were too well-mannered to talk and eat at the same time – Robin’s family descended from some stuffy upper class lot, Killian’s mum drilling the mantra of “manners maketh man” into his head as a lad. During a lull, he finally said, “All twisted around about someone, s’all.”

His burger sat heavy like lead in his stomach, watching Robin’s face. Robin’s eyebrow lifted. “Enough to ruin your football? Don’t tell me it’s Emma.”

Killian tried not to laugh. Swan was gorgeous, but it wasn’t meant to be. “Roommates are off-limits, remember? Or have you and Regina started sharing a bed as well as a room?”

From Tina: “Or we could just go full on polyamorous with CS/OQ all fucking each other *___*”

Robin’s cheeks pinked and he stabbed a chip into the ketchup. “I should bloody well think not… Very well then, who are they?”

I do think there was a little something between them though. Killian is very comfortably bi in this universe, but Robin... he’s not really sure what he is, and he’s okay with that. I think he’s more pansexual than anything else but he’d probably be most comfortable with the catchall “queer”.

His mouth felt dry, no matter how much of his beer he drank – indeed, he drained the glass and still felt parched. The waitress came and got him a refill and Killian stopped himself from guzzling it down lest he hurry along his buzz. He hardly thought a drunken confession of attraction would make things any better. “It’s… complicated,” he finally said. “Telling them, it would change a great many things that I’m loathe to give up.”

He met Robin’s gaze then, willing him to understand the words he wasn’t saying, but he knew it often took a straight answer for things to sink in. Robin’s blank look confirmed that. Killian swallowed hard, then said, “I value our friendship too much, Rob, to allow my personal feelings to get in the way if it makes you uncomfortable. I apologize if this admission alters the way you think of me –”

Robin’s eyes widened and Killian shut up fast; Robin was a good man, but he’d known plenty of men who turned on a dime at the thought of a man desiring them. “Bloody hell, me?” Killian’s mouth opened wordlessly, an icicle of fear slicing down his back as he tried to figure out whether he should run for it now or go down swinging. Robin blinked, shaking his head. “Well. I have to admit, Jones, this is a surprise, but I can’t say I’m not flattered.”

Well, he does look at himself in the mirror every day.

It was Killian’s turn to blink, his emotions a complete jumble. “You’re not…”

Robin met his gaze. “Killian, don’t be a tosser, I’m not upset.”

Sometimes it’s just nice to have a fic where everything goes according to plan. No gay angst, no “never fall in love with a straight boy”, nothing. Just two boys who like each other and would look really good in bed together. I was very, ANNOYINGLY conscious about how “but is the other person gay” fanfic works and actively wanted to subvert it.

“Well, you don’t go shouting about your conquests in the locker room, so I couldn’t be sure if it would be received well or not.”

Robin grinned. “No, we’ll leave that to Will. As it happens, I suppose it’s never really mattered to me.”

Will Scarlett loudly and hungoverly discusses his Friday nights with anyone who will listen. Usually his teammates, not by choice.

“Oh.”

“Indeed.”

There was a long pause and Killian fought the urge to gulp half his beer to fill the silence. His fingers must have twitched towards his pint, though, because Robin started to grin. “So, is this a date, then, or should we do one proper another time?”

Sometimes to break an awkward silence you created, you give a character a joke.

Killian stared, flabbergasted. “One - what? And two, are you seriously asking me out right now?”

“Well, you should probably be the one to do the asking, but you seem – for the first time in your life, I might add – at a loss for words.”

“Rob, don’t indulge me if you’re not serious about this.”

“Who says I’m not?”

“You’re being awfully flippant.”

“I’m not getting on one knee, if that’s what you want.”

No, Rob, he wants you on both knees. Preferably naked.

Killian felt his ears burning and he wasn’t sure what the cause of it was: embarrassment or anger, possibly a mix of the two. “Look, just forget it,” he said, balling up his napkin and tossing it on the table. He dug in his back pocket for his wallet, trying to look anywhere but at Robin; but when Killian opened the tri-fold to look for cash, he stilled when Robin’s hand covered his.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and Killian looked up to see a soft, earnest look on his face that matched his voice. “I thought – well, occasionally humor helps to ease tension, and I see now that it was a mistake.”

“Too bloody right,” Killian muttered.

Robin’s hand was warm, an odd but nice mix of calluses and softness against his own skin. Killian called up every ounce of courage he had, then turned his hand over to clasp Robin’s. His friend looked surprised at the gesture, perhaps a little unsure of how to handle it, but seemed neither disgusted nor displeased. “We’ve got a match Saturday afternoon, but how about after dinner we ditch the team and take in a movie?”

Haaaaaaand poooooornnnnn.

There were normally team dinners after matches, so it made sense – no need to alert anyone of anything new developing. And Killian and Robin normally went out after matches, though normally with Emma or Regina and their friends (they’d agreed that both of their roommates were useful in separate situations: Emma might not be a wild party girl but her LAX teammates knew how to celebrate a victory, while Regina and her group knew the perfect way to drown out any anger at a loss)

“Alright,” Killian said. Then, feeling bolder and remembering Robin’s remark about humor, added, “Though just so you know, I don’t put out on the first date.”

Robin blinked and Killian thought his joke may have missed the mark, then Rob started to laugh. “You’re probably a bloody awful kisser anyway.”

He thought about proving him wrong right then and there – he’d received approximately zero complaints about his technique, thank you very much – but in all honesty Killian was too busy trying to hide the fact that he was now very much staring at Robin’s mouth, wondering how he kissed and what the combined sensations of their beards might feel like.

I’m very glad to never have to find this out. Folks with beards who kiss others with beards -- chime in.

Swan, bless her, did her best not to gloat when he told her what had happened later that night.

Now please imagine Killian screaming into his pillow and then panicking about their date.

Though given the fact that he couldn’t stop grinning, he probably wouldn’t have minded a bit of gloating anyway.

Their style of play didn’t falter and Killian’s ability returned now that he was free of the stress of any difficult conversations. He’d been out with Robin before and though he fundamentally knew this was different, part of him wasn’t able to truly understand that this was a date and not just two friends out on the town. Perhaps that’s why he could keep his head on straight over the next few days, even managing to score a goal and assist on two others to help win the match on Saturday.

It wasn’t until after the team dinner that Robin caught his gaze and gave him a meaningful look.

That’s when the waves of butterflies hit.

They took Robin’s truck – Killian had never gotten the hang of driving on the wrong side of the road and happily allowed others to chauffeur him around – and headed out to the shopping mall on the far side of town. There was a theater there that gave student discounts. Knowing their teammates, no one would be out that way celebrating, and it wasn’t likely that they’d run into Emma (the LAX team was on a retreat for the weekend) or Regina (who had an organic chemistry exam on Monday and had threatened to set anyone who disturbed her on fire).

A few things here. I (and Tina) really enjoy the image of Killian going “fuck it, no” and just demanding others drive him around. Usually with his feet on the dash of Emma’s Bug and she wants to smack him for it. It’s also very hard sometimes to do like... little canon nods without beating people over the head with it. Particularly with magical shows like this. So I took a concept that I (and Tina) really enjoy, that Regina is a science nerd with her little potions kit, and translated it to the worst possible subject, organic chemistry, and viola, a perfect excuse for a super stressed student to want to light someone on fire.

Killian had found that there was always an odd moment concerning who paid when on a date with a man, but it seemed that Robin had already thought of that. “You get tickets, I’ll buy snacks?” he asked as they jumped out of the truck.

“Sounds good to me.”

GOING DUTCH, WHY DO ANYTHING ELSE ahem

They wound up eating most of the popcorn halfway through previews, making snide comments to the other about trailers for this overblown blockbuster or that lackluster comedy. By the time the lights went out, Killian was feeling more relaxed, though it still felt decidedly more like friends hanging out rather than a date.

About forty-five minutes in, he decided to make it feel like a date.

It took another fifteen minutes to build the courage to do it, sneaking glances at the armrest that lay between them and Robin’s arm casually resting on it.

He felt Robin still when Killian took his hand, and almost withdrew, but then Robin’s fingers laced with his and Killian’s heart soared.

He couldn’t remember the rest of the movie if he tried.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnddddddddddddddd poooooooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnnn I have a thing if you didn’t notice

They were quiet as they left, Robin’s hands casually tucked in his pockets. There weren’t many people leaving the theater at the same time, so Killian pretended to stumble, bumping their shoulders together and making Robin laugh. He nudged back and it turned into a little game, shoving one another until Robin finally just threw his arm around Killian’s shoulders. It was almost a headlock, and to anyone observing it would appear so, but he recognized it for what it was.

Maybe Robin understood the value of physical contact, too.

“So,” Robin said as he pulled up to Killian’s dorm a while later.

“Yeah.”

“That was nice.” Killian scoffed and Robin grinned. “Right, you have a better adjective?”

“I had a good time,” Killian said, his voice pitching high at the end, silently asking if Robin felt the same.

I always picture Killian’s voice cracking a little here, not just questioning but just nerves making his voice crack like he’s going through puberty all over again.

Robin smiled and reached over the center console to take Killian’s hand again. “I did too. Though perhaps next time we not dine with our teammates beforehand?”

“Is there a next time?”

“I’d like there to be.”

They stared at one another for a long moment until Killian smiled. “Alright. Next week?”

They had two more dates before the championship tournament hit, and Killian didn’t like to admit how it frustrated him to put whatever this was between them on hold for the sake of the game. At the same time, he knew it was more important to focus on winning, that there would be more time in the off-season, but he was frustrated all the same.

More because Robin seemed to hide behind his skipper mask, even when it was just the two of them discussing plays after a scrimmage.

He missed his friend. Or his… whatever this was.

~labels~

They won the next game, solidifying their place in the quarterfinals, but only by the skin of their teeth. Everyone was frustrated after the game, Robin snapped at everyone in the locker room, and Killian’s own frustrations at his own poor play combined with his personal frustrations towards Robin. He managed to hold his tongue until everyone else had gone, finally lashing out, “It’s enough that we’re aware of our own mistakes, mate, there’s no need to be a prick to us all on top of it!”

“I’m skipper, Killian, it’s my damn job to be a prick when you all deserve it!”

“And whose job is it to put you in your place when you’re being an unjust prick?!”

“Not yours, that’s for certain! Take it up with the manager if you have a problem with my skipping!”

now angerbang

this isn’t commentary so much as it’s me pointing out where they could have fucked before they actually fucked, but I wanted angsty shower sex so we had to wait

Killian fumed. “It’s not enough to know your team isn’t happy with their treatment? You stubborn arse, we selected you and we can damn well take that away. We know we won by the skin of our teeth, we know we need to do better next match, and trust me when I say we’re all going to be beating ourselves up over these mistakes until the next time we can go out there and prove we can do better than before.”

“It’s not enough,” Robin said, scowling.

“What should we do, Robin, become gods? Invest in a Time-Turner? Because the only way we can fix what already happened is to–”

Anything else he might have had to say was abruptly cut off, his ability to speak lost as Robin surged towards him, gripped his shoulders, and fused their mouths together.

If Killian had any lingering doubts about Robin’s intentions – if he was merely indulging Killian’s crush or humoring him so as not to cause any alienation or hurt feelings – they vanished. Hands moved slowly, from clutching to embracing, fingers tentatively twining in hair. They both were in need of a haircut, too superstitious about it at this stage in the game, but something deep and primal in Killian’s bones liked being able to twist his fingers through Robin’s hair as his tongue traced the seam of his lips and begged for entrance.

writing kissing is hard. I wish I could wax poetic about the difficulties of it, but really, writing about kissing fucking sucks sometimes. Kudos to everyone who can do it well.

He hadn’t any expectations for what kissing Robin Locksley would be like, hadn’t allowed himself to think that far ahead or get his hopes up. But even in his wildest fantasies he couldn’t have imagined this – there was a soft urgency to his kiss, unsaid words pushed into actions and touches and the soft glide of their tongues, and Killian could feel Robin’s restraint, how much he was holding back, his inability to lose control in this moment and give in to the feeling.

He vowed to work on that.

Both were breathless when they parted, only enough to get air. Their foreheads touched and Killian almost chuckled when Robin’s mustache tickled his lip. He liked this – really liked this – the feeling of Robin’s arms around him and their bodies pressed chest to thigh. Though, he did try to angle his hips away, feeling his cheeks heat up as he realized Robin could surely feel his erection pressed against his thigh.

But if Killian wasn’t mistaken, and he’d bet a lot that he wasn’t, Robin wasn’t feeling very calm after that himself.

“Bad form,” Killian said finally, giving in and resting his head on Robin’s shoulder. It was a bit awkward, as Robin was actually a bit shorter, but he liked it anyway.

“Are you really commenting on my technique?” Robin asked, sounding both amused and exasperated.

“No,” Killian said with a laugh. “Bad form for shutting me up in the middle of a tirade. As for the actual kissing, that’s a solid eight out of ten.”

you will also pry feminist Killian Jones from my cold dead fingers. While this isn’t a particularly feminist point at the moment, there’s an annoying trend in media where a heterosexual couple is arguing and the woman is rightly mad about something, and the man stops her yelling at him by kissing her. Don’t kiss someone to shut them up, especially in an argument. Anyway, that was the point of that line, to point out how it’s dumb.

“I’m going to regret asking how one scores a perfect ten, aren’t I?”

Killian only grinned.

It was a hard loss.

The weeks leading up to the finals had been good ones. Robin had eased up a little, leaving any discipline discussions up to their manager and refocusing his energies on team morale. He’d confessed to Killian that part of his outburst had been fueled by his nerves about advancing their relationship.

Killian, in turn, was too stunned about Robin defining this as a real relationship to comment.

Little touches had helped. Lingering shoulder claps or gentle touches when they thought no one was looking. Spending time together after practices also helped; Swan knew enough that they could hang out in Killian’s room without much fuss, but Robin wasn’t sure about Regina’s reaction just yet. If anyone asked, they were studying together. If anyone took a closer look, they’d notice Killian’s hand on Robin’s thigh, or the casual way Robin’s arm slung around Killian’s shoulders.

Well, maybe one didn’t need to look too much closer.

about as subtle as a kangaroo in a flock of flamingoes

Still, playing the last few matches with that kind of support, that kind of assurance, helped. They’d entered the final match with their heads held high – all of them, everyone on the team – but losing in the championship would sting regardless of their pre-game morale.

Losing 5-0 basically annihilated whatever morale they had left.

I had to do a lot of research on how soccer playoffs or whatever works. In case you were wondering, Stanford won the championship I researched.

The team was slow to leave the locker room. Robin had no rousing speeches or kind words – in fact, he had no words at all. No one spoke, the silence dulled only by the steady hiss of the showers and punctuated by the occasional slam of a locker. Everyone trickled out in ones and twos, their heads decidedly less high than they’d been earlier that morning, until only Killian remained in the main room.

Sometimes he did this, lingering in the locker room, letting himself feel whatever emotions he felt after a match without worry that anyone would see. Today he sat with his head in his hands, going over every play in his mind and trying to find what he could have done differently, what plays they could have made instead.

He heard both Robin and Swan in his mind, telling him not to do this to himself, that he knew better.

Well, he did know better, but it was all he could bloody think about.

Disgusted with himself, Killian stripped off his grass-stained jersey and shorts, tossing his dirty uniform into a bag to be washed and grabbing his towel and shower things; everyone else would be back at the hotel by now and he’d join them later, but right now he had to wash off the stink of failure.

It appeared he wasn’t alone in thinking that.

He hadn’t noticed the water still running, but there was a lone occupant in the communal showers: Robin. Killian tried to think back to the last time he’d seen him and concluded that his boyfriend had probably been trying to literally drown his misery for at least three quarters of an hour.

Thanks, crazed Quidditch captain of my heart Oliver Wood, for the inspiration here.

Boyfriend. That was still strange.

Killian dropped his things in the partition, then stepped into the steam. “Rob.”

Robin turned slightly and Killian’s heart broke all over again at the self-loathing and anguish on his face. It mirrored his own feelings, but actually seeing it made him push them away and focus on trying to make Robin feel better. Or at least stop looking like he’d never feel happiness again.

They are in a gay relationship and there is angst. It’s different than gay angst, and I had suuuuuuuuuuch a hard time making myself comfortable with that and hoping I wasn’t going to be another hum-drum angsty slashfic.

As Killian went to hug him, it dimly registered that not only was this the first time in several years that he was seeing Robin naked, it was the first time they were even touching one another in an intimate way without clothes. And there was nothing sexy about it. And that was perfectly fine.

They didn’t speak, the water beating down on both of them and keeping them warm as Killian held Robin close; and it wasn’t as if he disliked the way that Robin clung to him, he just wished it were for any other reason than misery. And he really had no idea how to make it better.

For anyone keeping score at home, Sean is 5′9″ and Colin is 5′11″. For your height difference needs.

“You’re going to prune,” he finally said, voice barely audible over the hiss of the water. Robin only nodded, tucking himself under Killian’s chin. “Did you wash at all?” This time Robin shook his head.

Well, that was easily taken care of. Killian eased back to grab his things, then set to work.

He always found value in casual displays of affection. Whether it was hugging friends or letting Swan sleep on his lap when they watched telly or now gently washing Robin’s hair, Killian knew that simple touch, simple gestures of care, warmth, and safety were so scarce these days that the extra effort was appreciated by anyone on the receiving end.

Preening or grooming is an important mating habit, jsyk

He raked his fingers through Robin’s hair, massaging the shampoo in and scrubbing out the sweat and lingering feelings of defeat. Robin’s eyes were closed and slowly his features relaxed, following Killian’s gentle lead to tip his head back under the spray to wash away the soap suds. Then came the body wash and Killian was hesitant as he lathered up his hands and spread them across Robin’s chest. It was then that Robin opened his eyes, meeting Killian’s hesitant gaze with his own. “Can you handle it?” Killian asked.

“Yes, I think so,” Robin said; it was hard to hear him over the sound of running water, his voice hoarse from shouting on the pitch and likely from the emotions that kept him shut away in his self-imposed confinement.

Killian nodded and stepped back, going to scrub his own hair while Robin got the soap.

He sighed as he stepped into the spray, scrubbing his fingers against his scalp and inwardly bemoaning the fact that he desperately needed a haircut. With finals coming up he’d be hard pressed to find time to get it done, though perhaps he’d ask if one of Swan’s teammates knew how to cut hair.

“Killian.”

He jerked up, wiping water out of his face as Robin took a step towards him. Their lips met and Killian grunted in surprise, hands automatically moving to cup Robin’s head and circle his waist. “Make me forget,” Robin whispered against his lips. “Make me feel good, Killian, please.”

Initially I set out to do like actual penetration sex, but then every single slash panel I’ve attended was like “LUUUUUUUUBEEEEEE” and I can’t just magic lube here like I could elsewhere. So then it came down to “well, sex can be a lot of things, and not all m/m sex is penetration”. Hence how it became trading angsty blowjobs.

His cock swelled at the words and nudged Robin’s. Killian swallowed hard, pulling back only enough to look his boyfriend in the eyes. “Are you sure?”

He didn’t want this to be something Robin regretted, this large of a step in their relationship brought on only by the urge to expunge negative feelings. But by God, did he want to.

Robin gave a small nod. “Yes.”

Killian surged forward, their lips crashing together and making Robin stumble back slightly. They turned so that Robin was practically pinned against the wall but for Killian’s hand reaching down to grip his ass. They both groaned, Robin’s hips jerking up as Killian kneaded and squeezed the firm muscle. Killian moved quickly, kissing a path down his jaw and gently biting the thick cords of Robin’s neck before reaching the juncture. He bit a little more hard, then sucked. Laving his tongue against the skin, desperate to mark him in some primal need to stake his claim, and squeezed Robin’s ass in time with his sucks. Killian pulled back with a slight popping sound, then dropped to his knees, ignoring the hard tile as his free hand traced the muscled lines of Robin’s stomach. Even over the water, Killian heard Robin suck in a breath when his hand reached his cock; glancing up, Killian saw he was being watched with an intense expression and hooded eyes. “You like this?” he asked, running gentle fingers over Robin’s cock before wrapping his hand around it.

He gave it an experimental pump, watching Robin’s eyes flutter shut and his head fall back against the wall. “Ah, ah,” Killian scolded, getting used to the feel of Robin’s cock and moving his hand in firm, even strokes. “Watch me.”

Killian Jones, voyeur extraordinaire.

With that, Killian leaned forward and flicked his tongue against the head. He heard Robin groan as he tasted the salty precum leaking from the tip, then wrapped his lips around the head.

Robin’s hand fisted itself in Killian’s hair as he promptly put every other blowjob he’d ever given to shame. His tongue swirled around the head and traced the fat vein pulsing along the side of the shaft. Robin’s cries echoed through the room, his hips jerking in Killian’s hold and forcing his cock further down Killian’s throat. He only gagged the first time, not expecting it, but relaxed and tried to keep a stronger hold on Robin as he continued.

See the nice thing about giving and receiving the same things is that I only have to do details like this once. The other time is just all reactions and I can go on autopilot. It’s hard to write this stuff and make it seem fresh every time.

When one hand went to fondle Robin’s balls, that seemed to be the breaking point. Killian eagerly swallowed his release as Robin came with another shout, only wincing slightly as the hold on his hair tightened. Only when he’d licked the last of it away did Killian sit back on his haunches, looking up to see the results.

Robin slumped against the wall, head tilted back as he caught his breath. As his eyes opened, Killian grinned. “Get up here,” Robin practically growled, taking the offered hand and hauling him up.

smol and sexually frustrated Robin Locksley

Something had snapped in him; Killian felt it as Robin’s kisses became fiercer, more possessive. Killian groaned deep in his throat as Robin practically shoved him back against the wall, his mouth tracing a similar path that Killian’s had done earlier, though Robin paid attention to different areas of his body. Robin nibbled his ears before nipping his way down Killian’s neck; his hands weren’t idle either, running down Killian’s sides and kneading his ass in a decidedly greedy manner. Killian shuddered as Robin’s fingers danced along his thighs, wondering what it might feel like to be pinned to the wall and properly fucked – but that would have to be another time, when they were prepared and not trying to distract each other.

My small reminder to myself that no, we can’t penetrate here. Also a side note: I’m really conscious of how often Killian is portrayed as the “feminine” one in pairings like Captain Charming. Like, going so far as to give him “feminine” descriptors such as “whine” or “mewl” and making him the reciprocator in anal penetration. So yes, Killian likes to be fucked, (and tbh I like writing him getting fucked) but I did a lot of rereading and conscious word choice throughout this piece so it wasn’t like a “oh just replace one character with a woman and it’s the same” thing. Which happens SO MUCH in slash it’s incredible. and by incredible I mean infuriating.

As he mused, Robin slowly dipped down, pausing briefly to pay attention to Killian’s nipples and nose through the thick, wet hair covering his chest. (One of the many things Killian appreciated was that Robin was nowhere near as hairy as he was; only one of them needed to be part-wolf.) His breath hitched as Robin ran his tongue along his abs, tracing a path down to Killian’s aching cock and wasting absolutely no time at all before wrapping his lips around the head.

somehow this didn’t turn into a lycan-fic

Killian would have to take a moment later, when he wasn’t about to collapse from pleasure and when he wasn’t trying to contain screams, to appreciate that as both of them were uncircumcised, both knew exactly how to handle the other’s cock. It was a marvel, and one he would put into appreciative words.

Later.

Eventually.

Apparently this means that docking is possible, but from what I understand docking is very unsafe, so don’t try this at home unless you want ripped foreskin. #safesexwithAmanda

When his boyfriend wasn’t going down on him so earnestly, one hand playing with his balls and the other teasing Killian’s ass and making him want to melt into a puddle of goo.

He tried so hard not to rut his hips, not to fuck Robin’s mouth, but God he couldn’t help it. He did his best to keep his thrusts shallow, but then the goddamn son of a bitch sucked hard and Killian’s body jerked involuntarily; he felt the head of his cock brush the back of Robin’s throat and almost came right then.

He decided to copy Robin’s earlier move and threaded his fingers through Robin’s hair; he silently urged him to move faster, desperate for more and half-wild from the need to come. Robin obliged, his tongue swirling and his teeth ever-so-slightly grazing along the shaft and Killian vaguely tasted blood from biting his lip too hard to keep from crying out.

He didn’t remember an orgasm that powerful before, his hips rutting and rutting into Robin’s willing mouth as he came down his throat. He sagged when it was over, when he was finally spent, and released Robin’s hair to let him up. Killian fell gratefully into Robin’s kiss, both of them more relaxed and their touches more tender, less frantic than before. “Water’s getting cold,” Robin said softly, cupping Killian’s face briefly before tracing the line of his jaw.

using up a university’s ENTIRE supply of hot water, w2g boyos

“Someone interrupted my wash,” Killian said, his weak joke earning a grin in response.

Robin ducked out first, letting Killian scrub himself, though he was a bit more reluctant to wash away the feeling of Robin’s lips over his body. It was a consolation to realize they could do it all over again another time, with more time and more preparation and less chance of someone walking in on them in a somewhat public locker room.

Nothing sexy about locker rooms, he thought, Swan’s words from several months ago coming to mind, we’ll see about that. He wasn’t one to kiss and tell, but he’d give a mild update to Swan when they returned.

Perhaps. Or perhaps he’d keep this new, warm feeling in his chest to himself for a while longer. His own private happiness to keep the demons of defeat away.

Or perhaps it was a private happiness to be shared by two people; Robin’s face when Killian went to change was a complete 180 from before, soft and with a glow that matched the one Killian felt.

They kept sneaking glances at each other as they dressed, smiling when their eyes met. When Killian’s head popped through the opening of his shirt, Robin was there, moving to gently cup the back of Killian’s head and touch their foreheads together. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“Anytime,” Killian replied. “Really.”

That made Robin laugh. “Next time let’s be a bit more private, though, eh?”

They slung their bags over their shoulders and Robin took Killian’s hand as they left the facility. Killian gave it a squeeze, a reassurance that it would be okay – and it would, they both knew it. Their shower dalliance bled away most of the poison but some of the sullenness would return.

But it would be okay. They had each other.

They’d be okay.

and they’ll wear each other’s jerseys and have plenty of time to get better at sex during the offseason! :D Thanks for rereading with my SUPER ENLIGHTENING commentary!

[crqstalite]

Solivagant.

(a.) wandering alone.

for MER 2020. day 2, hobbies. set in 2183, pre-virmire. spoiler for virmire.

-

"Skipper..." Ashley says warningly, sliding a capacity mod back onto her own rifle.

"I know what I'm doing, Ash." The blonde woman raises an eyebrow, brushing a curl out of her eye as she replaces a mod on Shepard's rifle, "You might be gunnery chief, but I'm still corporal. I can take care of weapons."

"Not that I don't believe you, but you know that mod is going to throw Shepard off, right?" Ashley taps the new barrel of the gun with a nail, "Too heavy for her."

"She's been asking for something with more of an oomph, you know that as well as I do," Finally, Annika lifts her head from her focus of the day, lavender eyes twinkling in the dim light of the cargo bay. She shifts her legs from underneath her where she'd been sitting on a crate to look up at Ashley, "Short of giving her a Mattock instead, this is the best solution. More power without giving her a brand new gun, just a simple upgrade to the barrel is all. It's not like she's a vanguard and needs the weight gone...we've still got ultralight material to put over this, right?"

"I told you we've needed a resupply for weeks now," Ashley shakes her head, giving her an 'I told you so' look that makes Annika pout, "Already applied them to Vakarian's sniper rifle and Alenko's pistol. You know how they get, they rely on those things like water."

Annoyed, she considers taking it out before she stands from her seat on the crate next to the weapons table, sliding it onto the cool metal surface, "And I told Shepard we needed to requisition more if we were going to really hit the Geth where it hurt if she keeps bringing in all these new weapons. Don't put this on me, Ash."

"Never said I was," She responds. Though, her voice retains a softer tone as Annika begins rustling around for other mods underneath the table and surely to prove her bluff on them being out of the lightener, "I'm just saying, we can't risk it going in blind and with mods we're not used to on Virmire. Who knows what we'll find down there? Maybe a whole damn nest of Geth."

"And I'm saying that if the Commander wants her firepower, then she'll have to compensate elsewhere for recoil," Ashley rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as Annika tsks in disappointment. No material to lighten the load, and true to Ashley words, they hadn't properly restocked or upgraded for a while now. No mods that were any lighter to replace the one she'd just installed either, not without sacrificing the whole reason she'd found it in the first place anyway, "Not like she has many other options before we give her a shotgun and throw her at a Colossus."

After a pause, maybe of thought because the other woman laughs goodnaturedly, Ashley holds out a hand to pull Annika back up from her crouched over position. She accepts it gratefully, though there's a smirk that smolders just beneath her mahogany irises. Annika sighs loudly, "I'm not admitting you're the better weaponsmith, just because I can't find the mod, Williams."

"Then you'd also know the recoil on Liara's pistol is going to screw her over, right?" She asks, smugly gesturing towards the small gun that their new Asari teammate used. It was surprisingly unused, though Annika blames that on the fact that other than Noveria, she hadn't seen much action outside of their excursions to uncharted worlds, "She doesn't rely on it much, but --"

"But biotics have to play it safe yeah, yeah I know. But the damage that the increased clip size and piercing mod is going to do? It'll more than be a fair replacement. Poor girl will have to get used to it if she intends to stick around." Annika responds, before doing a double take and narrowing her eyes at the mod that was recently installed on the clean Stinger they'd finished hours ago. It could become a problem, especially if Liara wasn't used to having such a heavy weapon. By Alliance standards, she was considered an adept, and adepts were usually lithe and light on their feet. Weighing her down...

But she didn't want to admit that to the woman in front of her. Annika would consider that defeat. And she was determined to defend the decision.

"Thinking over it again?" Ashley asks, as if she can read her mind.

"And what about Wrex and Tali? You stabilized their shotguns, but you took away the capacity and pellet size." Annika responds, sliding the offending Scimitar over to the gunnery chief, "You know that's like, Wrex's entire combat style, right? Up and in your face, face full of big ass pellets."

"The closer he is, which he always ends up being, the more damage it will do. Less recoil equals more accuracy, which equals more Geth flailing on their asses," Ashley says, moving to store the rest of the weapons away, "You know that."

Annika rolls her eyes, leaning against the weapon table while Ashley meticulously places each weapon back in the correct locker. Annika might only be the second-rate weaponsmith on the Normandy (that wasn't to say she also hadn't picked it up shortly after Akuze as a coping mechanism -- little wires and mods were easier to deal with than her therapist asking her all sorts of questions everyday of the week), and they might butt heads a lot about mods, but she wouldn't want to do it with anyone else, "Yeah, I know that."

"Good. I'm headed up to the mess, you want anything?" Ashley asks, pulling her hair tie out and letting her hair fall around her shoulders, "Energy bar, water?"

It's hard to look away from her for a second there, watching as she puts it right back up into a ponytail at the base of her neck. She might not be the most feminine woman, but Annika can't keep from admitting she's still beautiful. Smart. Tactful. Just enough sarcasm where it's witty instead of annoying.

And rather mean when it came to modding weapons. She's convinced Ashley does it to get a rise out of her. Yet weapons were fickle things, and they'd probably solved more problems together rather than apart.

"Skipper?" She asks again, and Annika jumps a bit as Ashley smiles, "You want to come up with me? We probably won't be planetside 'till at least noon tomorrow anyway."

"Yeah," She wipes her hands down on her pant legs, striding after the gunnery chief, "I'm still right, you know."

"Keep telling yourself that, Nik. Maybe you will be right one day," Annika gives her a mock offended look, gently nudging her shoulder, "Hey, you don't have to injure the messenger!"

"Well, if the messenger is a pretty lady, I guess I won't," Annika shrugs as she steps out of the elevator, making a quick turn into the mess. Ashley has a somewhat stunned look on her face before she catches up, Annika grinning.

"You can't compliment me into buying you a new Raptor through flattery, Skipper," Ashley reminds her, and Annika groans. That hadn't been her original plan, but maybe she had been dropping hints about the new model around the other woman more than usual, and maybe Ashley did know that she loved their line of assault rifles, "Or install those dubiously-legal mods you found on Noveria." She adds, which puts the next nail in the coffin.

"You're killing me woman, and they're not dubiously-legal, Shepard just didn't want them because she uses a different brand. Parasini gave them to us for a job well done," Annika sticks out her tongue, frowning as she washes her hands and starts the coffee machine. Ashley comes around a moment later, eyes sparkling with mischief, "Whether they can blow up in my face or not if I install them incorrectly is beyond the point."

"Riiiighht," Ashley comments, "Because that's exactly what we need, while chasing down a rogue spectre agent with an army of Geth. Alenko is going to have his hands full if you do, exploding experimental parts in the field. Chakwas won't let you hear the end of it."

"You make it sound like I don't know what I'm doing," Annika tsks sarcastically, "You wound me, Ash."

"Aww, did I hurt your feelings?" She asks, chuckling. Ashley nudges her shoulder with her own, "You're good at what you do. I'm just better."

"And you're horrible at giving pep talks, by the way." Annika says. When she turns, Ashley is marginally closer than she was before. She hesitates for a moment, before her omni-tool pings on her wrist. Tali. Ashley pulls away to find something other the cabinets. Annika has never been so glad the lights are so dim in the SR-1, as her cheeks flush.

They spend the rest of the afternoon arguing about weapon parts, about mods, about models. It was never a competition, but they compare reassembly times. Annika wins by three seconds. They promise each other a rematch after the Virmire mission.

She doesn't receive her rematch.

Instead, she gets the last pistol Ashley eventually left behind because of the lack of accuracy, left on the weapons table.

En route to the Citadel two days later, she sits back down on the crate, gently taking apart the gun to reassemble it. She has to put the parts down after a while because of tears that threaten to ruin the wiring, curling up on herself as she sobs quietly.

She should've let Ash have her way.

But now?

The new Raptor she's buying when they hit the Citadel is going to be the way Ash would do it. And she's going to use it to put a pulse shot through Saren's head, right in between those beady blue eyes.

[omgmicheal01me]

Jack Graham wants to repay Tigers the favour

On a Sunday afternoon in August, Jack Graham ran out for Richmond to make his AFL debut on Subiaco Oval. Just 41 days later the hirsute 20-year-old stood on the premiership dais at the MCG.

Jack Graham celebrates one of his grand final goals.Photo: Wayne Ludbey He had played in five AFL games for five wins, laying 35 tackles. His best performance came on grand final day in front of 100,021 people when he kicked three goals in the Tigers' drought-breaking win, shut down Adelaide star Rory Sloane, and earned a vote in the Norm Smith Medal. He was the youngest player since Essendon's Mark Mercuri(who beat Graham by one day) to kick three goals in a premiership victory. "It was my day, kinda," Graham says. "You have your days and you don't. I was lucky enough to have mine then." Only 19 players in the game's history have become a premiership player after fewer games, while Graham was the youngest person to win a flag since Hawthorn superstar Cyril Rioli did in his 25th game in 2008.

Graham hoists the cup with Dustin Martin.Photo: Wayne Ludbey Only former Tiger Cameron Clayton, who became a life member at the Tigers this season as did Graham after Richmond's board decided all premiership players would automatically qualify can better Graham's record, playing in eight straight wins from debut to flag in 1974. Clayton was a 17-year-old but he spent most of the two finals on the bench, only coming on in the last quarter of the 1974 grand final. Graham's more experienced teammates have not missed the chance to remind him during the off-season how lucky he has been to experience a premiership before he turned 20. "They sure do wind me up but they love it at the same time," Graham says. A conversation he had with long-suffering teammate Shane Edwards after the qualifying final win over Geelong sticks in his mind. Edwards told Graham it had taken him 11 years and 205 games to experience a win over the Cats. By contrast, Graham was enjoying that feeling after just three games. Graham acknowledges his good fortune, too, with a combination of humility and raw enthusiasm. "It is still pretty crazy and pretty surreal," Graham says. He did have to show a certain amount of resilience to even be in the hunt when the chance came. This time last year Graham could not have seemed further from a premiership, having tumbled to pick 53 in the 2016 national draft despite captaining South Australia in the AFL's under-18 championships and winning the MVP. After initial hamstring issues, he was in rehab nursing a broken ankle suffered at training when now-retired forward Ben Griffiths tackled him. Despite reassurance from the skipper Trent Cotchin that the injury would not affect Graham's chances of making a career in the game, he naturally worried that it would stop him from showing everyone what he had. Lucky was not a word he was using to describe how he was feeling. "At first I was thinking, 'Oh, God'," Graham says. It was not until round 13 that he made his VFL debut and round 22 before he made his AFL debut. He took each game as it came, believing the coaches when they said he was good enough to be there. And as each week passed he celebrated the fact he was living an impossible dream. Not once did he worry about whether he would lose his spot, his attitude heading into the preliminary final signalling his humility rather than his confidence. "I was thinking if I get dropped, fair enough. I've only played three games," Graham says. Now, just days away from starting his second season, his intentions to carve out a long career are clear. "I've ticked the first box and that was a full pre-season," Graham said. "It has been a great start in my journey but the journey has only really begun." That journey will see him play against Carlton for the first time, potentially in front of more than 90,000 people for the fourth time already in his short career. If the Tigers win he will become the first Richmond player since Richard Tambling to play in six wins in his first six games, a feat Tambling achievedin 2005. But such things are not on the down-to-earth Graham's mind as he looks to cement his spot in the line-up. The boy from Tea Tree Gully remains as determined, competitive and humble as he has always been, remembering the values his parents Jeff and Sue instilled in him. "Dad always told me to be humble and to be who you are," Graham said. He will forever be a Richmond premiership player, just the 12th man in the past 50 years to win a flag within his first 10 games. He is also presumably the first life member of a club to still be eligible to win the AFL Rising Star. But whether he becomes the 200-game player every draft hopeful dreams of becoming will remain a function of hard work. He also wants to taste premiership glory again. "I'm obviously honoured to be a life member at Richmond but I have got a lot to give back too, having been given [the honour] so quickly. I want to be known as a life member that played 150 games and gave back to the club," Graham said. Early premierships since 19685 games: Jack Graham, Richmond 20178: Brent Renouf, Hawthorn 20084: Richard Hadley, Brisbane Lions 20037: Shannon Motlop, North Melbourne 19999: Ben Marsh, Adelaide 19983: Aaron Keating, Adelaide 19976: Greg Madigan, Hawthorn 19895: Stephen McCann, North Melbourne 19779: Rodney Eade, Hawthorn 19768: Peter Murnane, Hawthorn 19768: Cameron Clayton, Richmond 19739: Neil Chandler, Carlton 1968 http://canberratimes.com.au/afl/richmond-tigers/jack-graham-wants-to-repay-tigers-the-favour-20180317-p4z4v6.html

[usnewsaggregator-blog]

Here's why David Cone could be perfect candidate for Yankees

New Post has been published on https://usnewsaggregator.com/heres-why-david-cone-could-be-perfect-candidate-for-yankees/

Here's why David Cone could be perfect candidate for Yankees

Would Brian Cashman really hire someone like Josh Paul as the next Yankee manager, even if most fans in the Bronx have never heard of the guy?

More to the point, would Hal Steinbrenner be OK with that?

On Friday I asked that question of multiple people close to the situation and didn’t get a no, apparently because the owner trusts Cashman to make the right call and isn’t really concerned about name value now that the Yankees have young stars and a bright future.

OK, but if the GM is looking for an outside-the-box, analytically-savvy candidate, I’ve got one for him that does have name value:

Yankees coaching staff in limbo as search for manager is on

David Cone.

If you listen to him doing Yankee games on YES, you know Cone was ahead of the curve on analytics, in terms of bringing it to the audience for years now, and he offers smart analysis about all phases of the game.

David Cone, who celebrates 1999 perfect game with Joe Girardi, appears to have all the skills Brian Cashman is looking for to replace his former teammate as next manager of the Yankees.

(JEFF ZELEVANSKY/AP)

No less significant, as a top starting pitcher Cone was a big part of the Yankees’ dynasty in the 1990s, a player that teammates considered a leader in the clubhouse, and someone who was great with the media.

The former Cy Young Award winner always had plenty of ideas about the state of the game, as a player representative who was involved in then-contentious bargaining discussions between the players union and owners.

Naehring not interested in being next Yankees manager: report

On Friday, Cone didn’t want to get into discussing himself as a potential candidate, but I’ve talked to him enough to know he’d be interested in talking to Cashman about managing.

The GM ought to make that call, as one Yankee person on Friday agreed:

Joe Girardi’s Yankees career through the years

“I think he’d do an incredible job – he was more of a leader than most people knew, great at talking man-to-man with teammates. I just don’t know if Cash would go that far outside the box.”

There is precedent for it. Then-Astros’ GM Gerry Hunsicker pulled Larry Dierker, also a former pitcher, out of the TV booth to manage in 1997, and his teams won four division titles in his five years on the job, before he moved on due to health reasons.

Yuli Gurriel mocks Yu Darvish with racist gesture

One thing that is becoming clear: if Cashman thought it would work, he could sell it to Hal Steinbrenner.

“Cash has built up a lot of equity with everything he’s done to improve the team and the farm system in the last few years,” was the way one Yankee person put it. “He already had the trust of ownership, but now it’s on a different level.”

And then there’s this:

“Hal knows he has a team with young stars that fans love again and doesn’t need a name manager to help sell it,” another person said. “And he’s bought into the analytics philosophy that the team is good enough to win no matter who is managing, as long as he’s competent.”

Why the Yankees should hire Willie Randolph to be next manager

David Cone could be just what the Yankees are looking for in a new manager.

(Al Bello/Getty Images)

That would seem to open the door for someone like Paul, the organizational catching coordinator who I’ve heard Cashman speak highly of in the past, in terms of his coaching and people skills, though not specifically as a managerial candidate.

Would the GM really go that route? Well, I do remember him telling me a decade ago that if he hadn’t hired Girardi in 2008, the guy he liked was Trey Hillman, then a Yankee minor-league manager who never played in the big leagues.

I’m not sure Cashman actually would have had the guts to hire someone that unknown to follow a legend like Joe Torre. But as it turned out, Hillman eventually did get hired by the Royals and flopped badly, lasting barely more than two seasons.

At least Paul played in the big leagues as a backup catcher for nine seasons, though none with the Yankees.

Joe Girardi will not return as manager of Yankees

Anyway, people I spoke to on Friday said that Cashman does think highly of Paul, but none of them knew how seriously the GM is considering him as a candidate.

The same people seemed to think bench coach Rob Thomson would be very much in the running, with one saying, “He’s analytics-savvy, and has a lot of Girardi’s qualities, only more easy-going.”

As for reaction to a couple of other potential candidates:

Jay Bell, the former major leaguer who is the Yankees’ Class-A manager in Tampa?

It may not be fair to Girardi, but time was right for him to go

“Too much like Girardi,” one person said. “Pretty high-strung.”

Kevin Long, the Yankees’ former hitting coach who was once a Cashman favorite, but wound up getting fired after the 2014 season? After two years as Mets’ hitting coach, Long made a good impression interviewing for the Mets’ job, before losing out to Mickey Callaway.

“There’s some kind of issue there,” one person said, meaning between Long and Cashman. “It might be that he talked too much (to the press) or that he was too close to A-Rod. But I’d be surprised (if he got hired).”

SHOWCASE VIN

That little theater performance Vin Scully put on before Game 2 might be what I remember most from this World Series. It was a gem, wasn’t it?

By moving on from Joe Girardi, Yankees are Brian Cashman’s team

If you didn’t know Scully’s story as the legendary Dodger broadcaster, you’d never believe that he will be 90 years old next month, as he captivated the big crowd with his storytelling magic.

Ah, but I was sure when he faked the shoulder problem and asked if there was another lefthander in the house, that Sandy Koufax was going to pop out of the dugout.

Fernando Valenzuela is a beloved lefty to Dodger fans himself, but there’s only one Koufax. He would have brought down the house.

He was in attendance too, but as much as he has avoided the spotlight all these years in retirement, Koufax probably turned down the part.

5 leading candidates to replace Joe Girardi as Yankees manager

BIRD IS THE WORD

When all was said and done, in the Yankees’ postseason, Didi Gregorius, Aaron Judge, Greg Bird, Gary Sanchez, and Todd Frazier all hit important home runs, but which was the most memorable?

To at least one major-league scout, it was no contest, as he cited the home run Bird hit off Indians’ lefty Andrew Miller, the only run in the Yankees’ 1-0 win in Game 3 of the ALDS.

“I mean, Miller doesn’t give up home runs to lefties,” the scout said. “And in that at-bat, he started him with two sliders, and Bird had a good swing to foul off the second slider, so Miller is probably thinking he’s sitting on it.

“He tries to come in on him with 96 (mph), and Bird turned on it like it was BP fastball. That kid is some hitter. Great plate discipline, easy power. If he can stay healthy, and the ball is flying again next year, he’ll hit 40 home runs.”

Derek Jeter and other Yankees react to Joe Girardi not returning

In that case, Judge, Sanchez, and Bird could combine for what, 140 dingers? Should be quite a power show.

SABER-RATTLING

This is the All-Analytics World Series, of course, as Dodgers vs. Astros features two of the most sabermetrically-driven franchises in the sport.

And obviously it’s working for them, but Game 2 was a reminder that managing-by-the-numbers has its risks as well. There was absolutely no reason for Dodgers’ manager Dave Roberts to pull lefty Rich Hill after four scoreless innings, no matter what the analytics said about facing the lineup a third time.

Was Roberts not watching Hill completely baffle Jose Altuve, among others? More likely he didn’t really have a choice, as such decisions are made ahead of time, in concert with the front office.

Many Yankee fans sad to see Joe Girardi leave

Sure, the Dodgers’ pen has been practically unhittable in the postseason, but going to it so early produced a ripple effect that led to Kenley Jansen needing to get a six-out save.

And when Jansen gave up the game-tying home run in the ninth, the Dodgers paid for it needing to use Josh Fields and Brandon McCarthy in the extra-inning defeat.

Sometimes it still pays to let managers make decisions based on what their eyes are telling them during the game.

THROWN FOR A CURVE

He may be the Mets’ new manager, but no doubt Mickey Callaway will be expected to work some magic with the starting rotation after such a disappointing season.

Joe Girardi, by the numbers as Yankees skipper

Callaway had great success as the Indians’ pitching coach at least partly by emphasizing the use of curveballs. According to a story on MLB.com, the Tribe staff threw the highest percentage of curve balls of any in the majors – and more than 1,000 more than any other staff over the last two seasons.

For Seth Lugo, who rather famously has the highest spin rate of any curve ball in the majors, Callaway could be a big benefit. Steven Matz and Noah Syndergaard have good ones as well that perhaps they’ll use to more effect now.

Tags:

mlb

new york yankees

joe girardi

david cone

brian cashman

vin scully

los angeles dodgers

world series

houston astros

new york mets

mickey callaway

Send a Letter to the Editor

Join the Conversation:

facebook

Tweet

Original Article:

Click here

[initiala]

could you possibly do another smut fic with killian having sex with a guy? Or maybe a threesome fic with him and emma and a nameless guy?

I have a secret hard-on for Captain Hood. In fact, this is something that @idoltina and I texted about for like a week last year and we each went “I’m not writing it, you’re writing it” for at least two days but now I guess I’m writing it. Who’s up for a college sports AU?

(anyway this is my first actual real slash fic, be kind for I only know what not to do. many thanks to @bookstoreromantic​ for giving this a once over and telling me how soccer works)

It felt like they’d known one another forever. They moved together on the field with ease, passing without thinking, sensing where the other was – just knowing they would be there with the assist. They stayed up late in the common area, going over plays and devising new ones, finishing each other’s thoughts late into the evening until someone inevitably reminded them about morning drills and the need for sleep. When one had a bad day, the other knew and was often the first to drag him out for a pint and some mindless entertainment to cheer him up. They had similar pre-game rituals, sat next to each other on roadies, and their teammates were surprised when one was seen without the other. They laughed and took the piss out of each other like the oldest of mates, but Killian and Robin had only been playing together since their first year at uni – sorry, freshman year.

(Killian still had some trouble wrapping his mind around the linguistic differences between American and British English. At least he’d known better than to ask to borrow someone’s rubber in the middle of class.)

Regardless, he’d certainly heard of Robin Locksley before decamping to America and Robin had heard of Killian Jones; the amateur competitive football world was small back home and everyone knew who was being scouted by the leagues and by the universities. Locksley was good, a striker with the makings of an excellent skipper one day. They’d never played against one another, but everyone kept tabs on the big names.

(No one had ever thought to mention how ruddy fit Locksley was. Oh, he’d noticed at first – beautiful people drew his eye in that way – but he’d had a few other dalliances before realizing just how bloody fucked he was when it came to Robin Locksley. It was during a rain delay that Killian had realized he was absolutely fucked when it came to Robin. They’d gotten caught in a downpour during warm-up drills and everyone had gotten soaked through, but Killian had zeroed in on how Robin’s kit clung to his well-defined muscles and the water ran down his chiseled jaw and bloody fuck he was well and truly fucked.. He’d also decided then that an artist should capture Rob’s beauty in marble, like the Greeks. Though it wouldn’t capture the way the sun glinted off his hair and made it shine, or the way his cheeks dimpled when he laughed, or the cold fury in his eyes when another player committed an unnecessary slide tackle and injured one of their teammates.)

The fact that they’d both been scouted for this small university’s football team – rather, soccer, as the Americans stubbornly continued calling it – just happened to be a twist of fate.

A rather cruel one, if he was going to be melodramatic about it – which he was apparently rather adept at, according to Swan.

Swan was his roommate, a lacrosse player with a mean right hook, a passion for grilled cheese, an old Volkswagen Beetle that he was constantly trying to keep running for her, and a penchant for throwing her pre-law books at him when he was in one of his “melodramatic moods”. And yes, Emma Swan was a girl – woman, as she and her friend Snow were fond of reminding him.

The university’s rather liberal policy of gender neutral residence halls had ended up quite in his favor, despite the book-throwing. While even he could admit that Swan was a striking example of womanhood, his tastes ran more towards the men. And sharing a room with another man had always run hit-or-miss for him in the past. Swan hadn’t even batted an eye that first year, offhandedly mentioned an ex-girlfriend named Lily, and then asked if his practice schedule was as grueling as hers.

They’d been the best of friends ever since.

“If I have to hear you sigh over Robin’s quads one more time, I’m banishing you to the lounge for the night,” she grumbled, highlighting something in a textbook.

“They’re just so–”

“Perfect, so I’ve heard. Just ask him out already.”

“I had to wait fifteen minutes before I could shower,” Killian said, flopping back on the futon with one of his lit texts. “Bloody git took forever.”

“Scandalous,” she remarked, her voice dry. “Can’t even shower together. Oh wait, yes you can, because half the LAX team is gay and we have no problem.”

“Women don’t have knobs, bit different,” he retorted.

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “There is nothing sexy about a locker room, Jones. Quit being a – a, what is it you always call Will?”

“Bellend,” he deadpanned.

“Right, that. Stop being a bellend and just say something. And don’t give me another speech about ruining the team ‘vibes’.” She actually used air quotes, the sarcasm dripping from her tongue. “If nothing else, you have to learn to keep personal shit off the playing field. Or use it as fuel during a game.”

Killian sighed, resting his book on his face. She was right, he knew she was right, but when it came to actually admitting his own feelings, he was the biggest chickenshit – one of Swan’s delightful Americanisms that had rubbed off on him.

He just didn’t know how Rob would react.

It wasn’t as if his teammates didn’t know about his sexuality; as Swan had said, coming out to his mates hadn’t ruined any of the team’s closeness. Locksley had clapped his shoulder, thanked him for his trust and honesty, and assured him that the team would do their best to return that trust and honesty.

Well, that was all very well and good when stating a general interest in men and women, but in Killian’s experience, men who had no interest in other men tended to react… poorly.

To put it mildly.

“Rob’s not like that.” Swan’s quiet voice broke through his thoughts.

“What, are you a mind reader now, love?”

She snorted. “No, that’s you. I just recognize that silence.”

“Come here.”

She did, dragging her textbook with her and settling against his side on the futon. She could be a pain in his arse sometimes, but she also knew the value of physical contact; he was, admittedly, more free in his general affection towards friends, but he counted himself lucky to be one of the small handful of people that Swan regularly showed any sort of affection towards.

“I’ll bring it up tomorrow,” Killian said quietly.

Swan made a noise as if she didn’t entirely believe him, and truth be told he didn’t entirely believe himself, but it was said and it would be enough for her to hold him to it. “I have a test tomorrow,” she told him, settling more comfortably into the crook of his arm.

He breathed a laugh and pulled her in closer, picking his own book back up to get some reading done before he was too inconsolable to think of studying.

Perhaps Swan was right about his inclination towards the melodramatic.

His body may have been at practice, but his head clearly wasn’t. He was passable at drills, but he was easily distracted during the scrimmage and it did not go unnoticed.

“Jones,” Robin called.

His skip’s voice cut through the locker room chatter. Killian paused only after securing a towel around his own hips, ready to half-drown himself in the showers after that abysmal practice. “Aye, mate?”

Robin made his way through their teammates, giving Killian a critical once-over before speaking. “You alright?” he asked, dropping his voice now.

Killian glanced up, then away, irritated at himself for a multitude of reasons now. “Aye. Long night. Sorry, skip, I’ll get right tomorrow.”

Robin was silent for a moment, then reached out and clapped Killian’s shoulder. Killian had to fight the urge to lean into it, to show how the familiar gesture affected him as he stood there half-naked in the bloody locker room. “Shower up, we’ll go for a pint and a chat,” Robin ordered and turned before it could be argued.

Killian stared after his friend’s retreating back, taking a long moment to compose himself and adjust the towel a bit before grabbing his caddy and stalking off to the showers.

The hot water and soap didn’t make him feel anything other than clean of sweat and grass stains. Try as he might, letting the water beat against his skin did nothing to relieve the guilt of giving less than his best or the anxiety gnawing at his gut at the conversation to come.

After he dressed, he went out into the hall to find Robin waiting for him. Wordlessly, they fell into step together, practice bags slung over their shoulders and hands shoved into their pockets. He followed Robin’s lead as they left the training facility and went down the street to their favorite dive bar – fairly empty at this hour, which would make Robin’s scolding easier to hear.

They ordered, and after the waitress brought their pints, they each took a long drink as Robin regarded Killian thoughtfully over the rim. “So,” he said, setting his glass down. “Something’s eating at you. And don’t give me any nonsense about everything being fine or I’ll go talk to Emma and she’ll tell me what’s really going on with you.”

Killian winced, setting his own glass down. Swan absolutely would, if for no other reason than she was an abysmal liar. “That’s a low blow, Locksley.”

“Aye, but you’re a right stubborn bastard when you put your mind to it, so my hand is forced. You’ve never played so badly, not in all the years I’ve known you. Even after the mess with that lass Milah and then your disastrous rebound with Jefferson.”

Those had been easier to handle – after Milah left, there had been nothing for him but throwing himself into the game, leaving everything on the pitch until he was spent, an empty shell left for Swan to care for, making sure he ate and had a decent night’s rest. Jefferson had been an angry affair, both of them lost and angry and winding up hurting the other more. But it had only led to more fuel, something like a dam breaking in Killian’s soul that flooded his body with pain and rage and powering his game until he was left with only quiet and acceptance inside.

But this, this situation held more at stake.

Swan’s voice was in his head, telling him she’d hold him to his statement yesterday, but he reasoned that if such a confession went poorly he would have nowhere to turn. He’d left his feelings out on the pitch after Milah, after Jefferson, but the pitch was where Robin was. Robin was his friend, his teammate, his skipper.

Robin kept things grounded with the rest of Killian’s world had fallen apart.

Killian took a long pull from his glass, stalling for time. Thankfully, their food arrived, and both young men were too well-mannered to talk and eat at the same time – Robin’s family descended from some stuffy upper class lot, Killian’s mum drilling the mantra of “manners maketh man” into his head as a lad. During a lull, he finally said, “All twisted around about someone, s’all.”

His burger sat heavy like lead in his stomach, watching Robin’s face. Robin’s eyebrow lifted. “Enough to ruin your football? Don’t tell me it’s Emma.”

Killian tried not to laugh. Swan was gorgeous, but it wasn’t meant to be. “Roommates are off-limits, remember? Or have you and Regina started sharing a bed as well as a room?”

Robin’s cheeks pinked and he stabbed a chip into the ketchup. “I should bloody well think not… Very well then, who are they?”

His mouth felt dry, no matter how much of his beer he drank – indeed, he drained the glass and still felt parched. The waitress came and got him a refill and Killian stopped himself from guzzling it down lest he hurry along his buzz. He hardly thought a drunken confession of attraction would make things any better. “It’s… complicated,” he finally said. “Telling them, it would change a great many things that I’m loathe to give up.”

He met Robin’s gaze then, willing him to understand the words he wasn’t saying, but he knew it often took a straight answer for things to sink in. Robin’s blank look confirmed that. Killian swallowed hard, then said, “I value our friendship too much, Rob, to allow my personal feelings to get in the way if it makes you uncomfortable. I apologize if this admission alters the way you think of me –”

Robin’s eyes widened and Killian shut up fast; Robin was a good man, but he’d known plenty of men who turned on a dime at the thought of a man desiring them. “Bloody hell, me?” Killian’s mouth opened wordlessly, an icicle of fear slicing down his back as he tried to figure out whether he should run for it now or go down swinging. Robin blinked, shaking his head. “Well. I have to admit, Jones, this is a surprise, but I can’t say I’m not flattered.”

It was Killian’s turn to blink, his emotions a complete jumble. “You’re not…”

Robin met his gaze. “Killian, don’t be a tosser, I’m not upset.”

“Well, you don’t go shouting about your conquests in the locker room, so I couldn’t be sure if it would be received well or not.”

Robin grinned. “No, we’ll leave that to Will. As it happens, I suppose it’s never really mattered to me.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.”

There was a long pause and Killian fought the urge to gulp half his beer to fill the silence. His fingers must have twitched towards his pint, though, because Robin started to grin. “So, is this a date, then, or should we do one proper another time?”

Killian stared, flabbergasted. “One - what? And two, are you seriously asking me out right now?”

“Well, you should probably be the one to do the asking, but you seem – for the first time in your life, I might add – at a loss for words.”

“Rob, don’t indulge me if you’re not serious about this.”

“Who says I’m not?”

“You’re being awfully flippant.”

“I’m not getting on one knee, if that’s what you want.”

Killian felt his ears burning and he wasn’t sure what the cause of it was: embarrassment or anger, possibly a mix of the two. “Look, just forget it,” he said, balling up his napkin and tossing it on the table. He dug in his back pocket for his wallet, trying to look anywhere but at Robin; but when Killian opened the tri-fold to look for cash, he stilled when Robin’s hand covered his.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and Killian looked up to see a soft, earnest look on his face that matched his voice. “I thought – well, occasionally humor helps to ease tension, and I see now that it was a mistake.”

“Too bloody right,” Killian muttered.

Robin’s hand was warm, an odd but nice mix of calluses and softness against his own skin. Killian called up every ounce of courage he had, then turned his hand over to clasp Robin’s. His friend looked surprised at the gesture, perhaps a little unsure of how to handle it, but seemed neither disgusted nor displeased. “We’ve got a match Saturday afternoon, but how about after dinner we ditch the team and take in a movie?”

There were normally team dinners after matches, so it made sense – no need to alert anyone of anything new developing. And Killian and Robin normally went out after matches, though normally with Emma or Regina and their friends (they’d agreed that both of their roommates were useful in separate situations: Emma might not be a wild party girl but her LAX teammates knew how to celebrate a victory, while Regina and her group knew the perfect way to drown out any anger at a loss)

“Alright,” Killian said. Then, feeling bolder and remembering Robin’s remark about humor, added, “Though just so you know, I don’t put out on the first date.”

Robin blinked and Killian thought his joke may have missed the mark, then Rob started to laugh. “You’re probably a bloody awful kisser anyway.”

He thought about proving him wrong right then and there – he’d received approximately zero complaints about his technique, thank you very much – but in all honesty Killian was too busy trying to hide the fact that he was now very much staring at Robin’s mouth, wondering how he kissed and what the combined sensations of their beards might feel like.

Swan, bless her, did her best not to gloat when he told her what had happened later that night.

Though given the fact that he couldn’t stop grinning, he probably wouldn’t have minded a bit of gloating anyway.

Their style of play didn’t falter and Killian’s ability returned now that he was free of the stress of any difficult conversations. He’d been out with Robin before and though he fundamentally knew this was different, part of him wasn’t able to truly understand that this was a date and not just two friends out on the town. Perhaps that’s why he could keep his head on straight over the next few days, even managing to score a goal and assist on two others to help win the match on Saturday.

It wasn’t until after the team dinner that Robin caught his gaze and gave him a meaningful look.

That’s when the waves of butterflies hit.

They took Robin’s truck – Killian had never gotten the hang of driving on the wrong side of the road and happily allowed others to chauffeur him around – and headed out to the shopping mall on the far side of town. There was a theater there that gave student discounts. Knowing their teammates, no one would be out that way celebrating, and it wasn’t likely that they’d run into Emma (the LAX team was on a retreat for the weekend) or Regina (who had an organic chemistry exam on Monday and had threatened to set anyone who disturbed her on fire).

Killian had found that there was always an odd moment concerning who paid when on a date with a man, but it seemed that Robin had already thought of that. “You get tickets, I’ll buy snacks?” he asked as they jumped out of the truck.

“Sounds good to me.”

They wound up eating most of the popcorn halfway through previews, making snide comments to the other about trailers for this overblown blockbuster or that lackluster comedy. By the time the lights went out, Killian was feeling more relaxed, though it still felt decidedly more like friends hanging out rather than a date.

About forty-five minutes in, he decided to make it feel like a date.

It took another fifteen minutes to build the courage to do it, sneaking glances at the armrest that lay between them and Robin’s arm casually resting on it.

He felt Robin still when Killian took his hand, and almost withdrew, but then Robin’s fingers laced with his and Killian’s heart soared.

He couldn’t remember the rest of the movie if he tried.

They were quiet as they left, Robin’s hands casually tucked in his pockets. There weren’t many people leaving the theater at the same time, so Killian pretended to stumble, bumping their shoulders together and making Robin laugh. He nudged back and it turned into a little game, shoving one another until Robin finally just threw his arm around Killian’s shoulders. It was almost a headlock, and to anyone observing it would appear so, but he recognized it for what it was.

Maybe Robin understood the value of physical contact, too.

“So,” Robin said as he pulled up to Killian’s dorm a while later.

“Yeah.”

“That was nice.” Killian scoffed and Robin grinned. “Right, you have a better adjective?”

“I had a good time,” Killian said, his voice pitching high at the end, silently asking if Robin felt the same.

Robin smiled and reached over the center console to take Killian’s hand again. “I did too. Though perhaps next time we not dine with our teammates beforehand?”

“Is there a next time?”

“I’d like there to be.”

They stared at one another for a long moment until Killian smiled. “Alright. Next week?”

They had two more dates before the championship tournament hit, and Killian didn’t like to admit how it frustrated him to put whatever this was between them on hold for the sake of the game. At the same time, he knew it was more important to focus on winning, that there would be more time in the off-season, but he was frustrated all the same.

More because Robin seemed to hide behind his skipper mask, even when it was just the two of them discussing plays after a scrimmage.

He missed his friend. Or his… whatever this was.

They won the next game, solidifying their place in the quarterfinals, but only by the skin of their teeth. Everyone was frustrated after the game, Robin snapped at everyone in the locker room, and Killian’s own frustrations at his own poor play combined with his personal frustrations towards Robin. He managed to hold his tongue until everyone else had gone, finally lashing out, “It’s enough that we’re aware of our own mistakes, mate, there’s no need to be a prick to us all on top of it!”

“I’m skipper, Killian, it’s my damn job to be a prick when you all deserve it!”

“And whose job is it to put you in your place when you’re being an unjust prick?!”

“Not yours, that’s for certain! Take it up with the manager if you have a problem with my skipping!”

Killian fumed. “It’s not enough to know your team isn’t happy with their treatment? You stubborn arse, we selected you and we can damn well take that away. We know we won by the skin of our teeth, we know we need to do better next match, and trust me when I say we’re all going to be beating ourselves up over these mistakes until the next time we can go out there and prove we can do better than before.”

“It’s not enough,” Robin said, scowling.

“What should we do, Robin, become gods? Invest in a Time-Turner? Because the only way we can fix what already happened is to–”

Anything else he might have had to say was abruptly cut off, his ability to speak lost as Robin surged towards him, gripped his shoulders, and fused their mouths together.

If Killian had any lingering doubts about Robin’s intentions – if he was merely indulging Killian’s crush or humoring him so as not to cause any alienation or hurt feelings – they vanished. Hands moved slowly, from clutching to embracing, fingers tentatively twining in hair. They both were in need of a haircut, too superstitious about it at this stage in the game, but something deep and primal in Killian’s bones liked being able to twist his fingers through Robin’s hair as his tongue traced the seam of his lips and begged for entrance.

He hadn’t any expectations for what kissing Robin Locksley would be like, hadn’t allowed himself to think that far ahead or get his hopes up. But even in his wildest fantasies he couldn’t have imagined this – there was a soft urgency to his kiss, unsaid words pushed into actions and touches and the soft glide of their tongues, and Killian could feel Robin’s restraint, how much he was holding back, his inability to lose control in this moment and give in to the feeling.

He vowed to work on that.

Both were breathless when they parted, only enough to get air. Their foreheads touched and Killian almost chuckled when Robin’s mustache tickled his lip. He liked this – really liked this – the feeling of Robin’s arms around him and their bodies pressed chest to thigh. Though, he did try to angle his hips away, feeling his cheeks heat up as he realized Robin could surely feel his erection pressed against his thigh.

But if Killian wasn’t mistaken, and he’d bet a lot that he wasn’t, Robin wasn’t feeling very calm after that himself.

“Bad form,” Killian said finally, giving in and resting his head on Robin’s shoulder. It was a bit awkward, as Robin was actually a bit shorter, but he liked it anyway.

“Are you really commenting on my technique?” Robin asked, sounding both amused and exasperated.

“No,” Killian said with a laugh. “Bad form for shutting me up in the middle of a tirade. As for the actual kissing, that’s a solid eight out of ten.”

“I’m going to regret asking how one scores a perfect ten, aren’t I?”

Killian only grinned.

It was a hard loss.

The weeks leading up to the finals had been good ones. Robin had eased up a little, leaving any discipline discussions up to their manager and refocusing his energies on team morale. He’d confessed to Killian that part of his outburst had been fueled by his nerves about advancing their relationship.

Killian, in turn, was too stunned about Robin defining this as a real relationship to comment.

Little touches had helped. Lingering shoulder claps or gentle touches when they thought no one was looking. Spending time together after practices also helped; Swan knew enough that they could hang out in Killian’s room without much fuss, but Robin wasn’t sure about Regina’s reaction just yet. If anyone asked, they were studying together. If anyone took a closer look, they’d notice Killian’s hand on Robin’s thigh, or the casual way Robin’s arm slung around Killian’s shoulders.

Well, maybe one didn’t need to look too much closer.

Still, playing the last few matches with that kind of support, that kind of assurance, helped. They’d entered the final match with their heads held high – all of them, everyone on the team – but losing in the championship would sting regardless of their pre-game morale.

Losing 5-0 basically annihilated whatever morale they had left.

The team was slow to leave the locker room. Robin had no rousing speeches or kind words – in fact, he had no words at all. No one spoke, the silence dulled only by the steady hiss of the showers and punctuated by the occasional slam of a locker. Everyone trickled out in ones and twos, their heads decidedly less high than they’d been earlier that morning, until only Killian remained in the main room.

Sometimes he did this, lingering in the locker room, letting himself feel whatever emotions he felt after a match without worry that anyone would see. Today he sat with his head in his hands, going over every play in his mind and trying to find what he could have done differently, what plays they could have made instead.

He heard both Robin and Swan in his mind, telling him not to do this to himself, that he knew better.

Well, he did know better, but it was all he could bloody think about.

Disgusted with himself, Killian stripped off his grass-stained jersey and shorts, tossing his dirty uniform into a bag to be washed and grabbing his towel and shower things; everyone else would be back at the hotel by now and he’d join them later, but right now he had to wash off the stink of failure.

It appeared he wasn’t alone in thinking that.

He hadn’t noticed the water still running, but there was a lone occupant in the communal showers: Robin. Killian tried to think back to the last time he’d seen him and concluded that his boyfriend had probably been trying to literally drown his misery for at least three quarters of an hour.

Boyfriend. That was still strange.

Killian dropped his things in the partition, then stepped into the steam. “Rob.”

Robin turned slightly and Killian’s heart broke all over again at the self-loathing and anguish on his face. It mirrored his own feelings, but actually seeing it made him push them away and focus on trying to make Robin feel better. Or at least stop looking like he’d never feel happiness again.

As Killian went to hug him, it dimly registered that not only was this the first time in several years that he was seeing Robin naked, it was the first time they were even touching one another in an intimate way without clothes. And there was nothing sexy about it. And that was perfectly fine.

They didn’t speak, the water beating down on both of them and keeping them warm as Killian held Robin close; and it wasn’t as if he disliked the way that Robin clung to him, he just wished it were for any other reason than misery. And he really had no idea how to make it better.

“You’re going to prune,” he finally said, voice barely audible over the hiss of the water. Robin only nodded, tucking himself under Killian’s chin. “Did you wash at all?” This time Robin shook his head.

Well, that was easily taken care of. Killian eased back to grab his things, then set to work.

He always found value in casual displays of affection. Whether it was hugging friends or letting Swan sleep on his lap when they watched telly or now gently washing Robin’s hair, Killian knew that simple touch, simple gestures of care, warmth, and safety were so scarce these days that the extra effort was appreciated by anyone on the receiving end.

He raked his fingers through Robin’s hair, massaging the shampoo in and scrubbing out the sweat and lingering feelings of defeat. Robin’s eyes were closed and slowly his features relaxed, following Killian’s gentle lead to tip his head back under the spray to wash away the soap suds. Then came the body wash and Killian was hesitant as he lathered up his hands and spread them across Robin’s chest. It was then that Robin opened his eyes, meeting Killian’s hesitant gaze with his own. “Can you handle it?” Killian asked.

“Yes, I think so,” Robin said; it was hard to hear him over the sound of running water, his voice hoarse from shouting on the pitch and likely from the emotions that kept him shut away in his self-imposed confinement.

Killian nodded and stepped back, going to scrub his own hair while Robin got the soap.

He sighed as he stepped into the spray, scrubbing his fingers against his scalp and inwardly bemoaning the fact that he desperately needed a haircut. With finals coming up he’d be hard pressed to find time to get it done, though perhaps he’d ask if one of Swan’s teammates knew how to cut hair.

“Killian.”

He jerked up, wiping water out of his face as Robin took a step towards him. Their lips met and Killian grunted in surprise, hands automatically moving to cup Robin’s head and circle his waist. “Make me forget,” Robin whispered against his lips. “Make me feel good, Killian, please.”

His cock swelled at the words and nudged Robin’s. Killian swallowed hard, pulling back only enough to look his boyfriend in the eyes. “Are you sure?”

He didn’t want this to be something Robin regretted, this large of a step in their relationship brought on only by the urge to expunge negative feelings. But by God, did he want to.

Robin gave a small nod. “Yes.”

Killian surged forward, their lips crashing together and making Robin stumble back slightly. They turned so that Robin was practically pinned against the wall but for Killian’s hand reaching down to grip his ass. They both groaned, Robin’s hips jerking up as Killian kneaded and squeezed the firm muscle. Killian moved quickly, kissing a path down his jaw and gently biting the thick cords of Robin’s neck before reaching the juncture. He bit a little more hard, then sucked. Laving his tongue against the skin, desperate to mark him in some primal need to stake his claim, and squeezed Robin’s ass in time with his sucks. Killian pulled back with a slight popping sound, then dropped to his knees, ignoring the hard tile as his free hand traced the muscled lines of Robin’s stomach. Even over the water, Killian heard Robin suck in a breath when his hand reached his cock; glancing up, Killian saw he was being watched with an intense expression and hooded eyes. “You like this?” he asked, running gentle fingers over Robin’s cock before wrapping his hand around it.

He gave it an experimental pump, watching Robin’s eyes flutter shut and his head fall back against the wall. “Ah, ah,” Killian scolded, getting used to the feel of Robin’s cock and moving his hand in firm, even strokes. “Watch me.”

With that, Killian leaned forward and flicked his tongue against the head. He heard Robin groan as he tasted the salty precum leaking from the tip, then wrapped his lips around the head.

Robin’s hand fisted itself in Killian’s hair as he promptly put every other blowjob he’d ever given to shame. His tongue swirled around the head and traced the fat vein pulsing along the side of the shaft. Robin’s cries echoed through the room, his hips jerking in Killian’s hold and forcing his cock further down Killian’s throat. He only gagged the first time, not expecting it, but relaxed and tried to keep a stronger hold on Robin as he continued.

When one hand went to fondle Robin’s balls, that seemed to be the breaking point. Killian eagerly swallowed his release as Robin came with another shout, only wincing slightly as the hold on his hair tightened. Only when he’d licked the last of it away did Killian sit back on his haunches, looking up to see the results.

Robin slumped against the wall, head tilted back as he caught his breath. As his eyes opened, Killian grinned. “Get up here,” Robin practically growled, taking the offered hand and hauling him up.

Something had snapped in him; Killian felt it as Robin’s kisses became fiercer, more possessive. Killian groaned deep in his throat as Robin practically shoved him back against the wall, his mouth tracing a similar path that Killian’s had done earlier, though Robin paid attention to different areas of his body. Robin nibbled his ears before nipping his way down Killian’s neck; his hands weren’t idle either, running down Killian’s sides and kneading his ass in a decidedly greedy manner. Killian shuddered as Robin’s fingers danced along his thighs, wondering what it might feel like to be pinned to the wall and properly fucked – but that would have to be another time, when they were prepared and not trying to distract each other.

As he mused, Robin slowly dipped down, pausing briefly to pay attention to Killian’s nipples and nose through the thick, wet hair covering his chest. (One of the many things Killian appreciated was that Robin was nowhere near as hairy as he was; only one of them needed to be part-wolf.) His breath hitched as Robin ran his tongue along his abs, tracing a path down to Killian’s aching cock and wasting absolutely no time at all before wrapping his lips around the head.

Killian would have to take a moment later, when he wasn’t about to collapse from pleasure and when he wasn’t trying to contain screams, to appreciate that as both of them were uncircumcised, both knew exactly how to handle the other’s cock. It was a marvel, and one he would put into appreciative words.

Later.

Eventually.

When his boyfriend wasn’t going down on him so earnestly, one hand playing with his balls and the other teasing Killian’s ass and making him want to melt into a puddle of goo.

He tried so hard not to rut his hips, not to fuck Robin’s mouth, but God he couldn’t help it. He did his best to keep his thrusts shallow, but then the goddamn son of a bitch sucked hard and Killian’s body jerked involuntarily; he felt the head of his cock brush the back of Robin’s throat and almost came right then.

He decided to copy Robin’s earlier move and threaded his fingers through Robin’s hair; he silently urged him to move faster, desperate for more and half-wild from the need to come. Robin obliged, his tongue swirling and his teeth ever-so-slightly grazing along the shaft and Killian vaguely tasted blood from biting his lip too hard to keep from crying out.

He didn’t remember an orgasm that powerful before, his hips rutting and rutting into Robin’s willing mouth as he came down his throat. He sagged when it was over, when he was finally spent, and released Robin’s hair to let him up. Killian fell gratefully into Robin’s kiss, both of them more relaxed and their touches more tender, less frantic than before. “Water’s getting cold,” Robin said softly, cupping Killian’s face briefly before tracing the line of his jaw.

“Someone interrupted my wash,” Killian said, his weak joke earning a grin in response.

Robin ducked out first, letting Killian scrub himself, though he was a bit more reluctant to wash away the feeling of Robin’s lips over his body. It was a consolation to realize they could do it all over again another time, with more time and more preparation and less chance of someone walking in on them in a somewhat public locker room.

Nothing sexy about locker rooms, he thought, Swan’s words from several months ago coming to mind, we’ll see about that. He wasn’t one to kiss and tell, but he’d give a mild update to Swan when they returned.

Perhaps. Or perhaps he’d keep this new, warm feeling in his chest to himself for a while longer. His own private happiness to keep the demons of defeat away.

Or perhaps it was a private happiness to be shared by two people; Robin’s face when Killian went to change was a complete 180 from before, soft and with a glow that matched the one Killian felt.

They kept sneaking glances at each other as they dressed, smiling when their eyes met. When Killian’s head popped through the opening of his shirt, Robin was there, moving to gently cup the back of Killian’s head and touch their foreheads together. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“Anytime,” Killian replied. “Really.”

That made Robin laugh. “Next time let’s be a bit more private, though, eh?”

They slung their bags over their shoulders and Robin took Killian’s hand as they left the facility. Killian gave it a squeeze, a reassurance that it would be okay – and it would, they both knew it. Their shower dalliance bled away most of the poison but some of the sullenness would return.

But it would be okay. They had each other.

They’d be okay.

[junker-town]

A timeline of Jalen Ramsey’s hatin’ ass trash talk

The NFL’s best young cornerback isn’t afraid to speak his mind, which makes things fun for everybody who is a fan of the game.

Jalen Ramsey is one of the NFL’s best young cornerbacks and trash talkers. Anybody can talk some trash, but having the skills to back everything up makes for a lethal combination.

That’s Ramsey, making him a big part of why the Jaguars have gone from a dud team for the past decade to one of the NFL’s most exciting teams to watch. And since he entered the NFL, Ramsey has showed no sign of ever biting his tongue. That’s good news for everybody — except perhaps NFL wide receivers and other targets of his.

Keeping track of all of Ramsey’s hatin’ ass trash talk can be a tough, however — there’s a lot of it. For that, we have you covered. Below is timeline of all of his best moments since he entered the NFL in 2016. We’ll be updating it, so that you can keep up with Ramsey, his trash talk, and everything else that comes with it for as long as he’s producing.

Sept. 25, 2016: “Who got in who head?”

We knew Ramsey was a dog early in his career, because one does not simply talk trash to or about Steve Smith. And yet, he did — just three weeks into his career!

Smith approached Ramsey after the game and got in his face. After the game, Ramsey told reporters about Smith: “The game over with. You still mad because I was locking you up? Alright, go sleep on that.”

Safe to say Jalen Ramsey and Steve Smith are not going to be friends. "He's a good player.. but I don't respect him as a man."#Jaguars pic.twitter.com/2sSypS02XD

— Alyssa Lang (@AlyssaLang) September 25, 2016

“Any time I lined up on him. Hmm. You’re done,” Ramsey said. “Y’all go watch that. Y’all go watch that. Y’all tell me who got in who head.”

The fact that it took Ramsey just three weeks into his NFL career to give us a signature quote, “Y’all tell me who got in who head,” is perfect. If that’s not in your vocabulary, add it.

Aug. 16, 2017: “6 quarterback options to replace Blake Bortles”

Blake Bortles is high up on the list of NFL Starting Quarterbacks Who Get Shit On Constantly. Jokes get tossed around about pretty much everybody nowadays on social media, but things are bad when your own teammates start going in.

That’s basically what Ramsey did by liking an Instagram post of a Big Cat Country article on potential Bortles replacements.

Bruh pic.twitter.com/wZs1zPEFtQ

— Dilla (@E_Dilla) August 16, 2017

This is basically the NFL equivalent of openly talking shit about a coworker, but not knowing they’re around the corner. Bortles wasn’t exactly around the corner on this one, but the internet was there to relay the message.

Bortles got some love after not playing as poorly during the postseason, and Ramsey has backed him up since. But we can’t forget this one. It also serves as a great reminder that people can always — always — see what you’re doing online.

Nov. 5, 2017: When he got in A.J. Green’s head

A.J. Green is a fairly quiet and laid back guy, as well as a spectacular wide receiver. But Ramsey brought out a side of him we had never seen before when the Bengals and Jaguars met up in Week 9 of the 2017 season.

Ramsey was in Green’s head the whole game, and after a shove that sent Green to the ground, it was on. Green went from a seven-time Pro Bowler to a mixed martial artist:

Both players were ejected for the scuffle. Later in the year, ESPN’s Darren Woodson showed Ramsey a picture of him and Green, and asked what came to mind. “Soft,” Ramsey said. “Charmin Soft.”

Woodson then asked what he could have possibly said to Green to make him go off like that. “I told him he was soft,” Ramsey said. “I just kept telling him he was soft, he’s soft.”

“He just got fed up,” Ramsey added. “That was it.” Unfortunately for all of us, the Bengals aren’t on the Jaguars’ schedule this season.

Jan. 12, 2018: Ramsey doesn’t know who Mike Mitchell is

Ahead of the Jaguars-Steelers AFC Divisional Round game, Ramsey was asked about comments made by Pittsburgh’s Mike Mitchell. Mitchell told SI, “We’re going to play [the Patriots] again. We can play them in hell, we can play them in Haiti, we can play them in New England. ... We’re gonna win.”

When asked if that comment was dismissal of the Jags by focusing on Steelers-Patriots, Ramsey said, “Who’s focused on them? Y’all focused on them?”

What do you think about the Steelers vs Patriots match-up? pic.twitter.com/J46eDj4KfV

— MadeByTim (@MadeByTim) January 11, 2018

After a reporter clarified there had been talk of that matchup, Ramsey asked, “Who?” The reporter replied, “The one Leonard trucked in the game.”

Then, the memories came back. “Oh,” Ramsey said, “I don’t much know him.”

June 26, 2018: Ramsey says Jimmy Garoppolo doesn’t belong in the NFL’s Top 100 list

The NFL offseason can feel like a never-ending drag, which the league combats by putting out a list of the top 100 players in the game. Most of the time, athletes make headlines by being outraged over where they think they should be on the list.

But leave it to Jalen Ramsey to take a jab at somebody else instead, and start something that way. Ramsey told NFL Network that he felt Jimmy Garoppolo didn’t deserve to be in the Top 100.

“Not yet,” Ramsey said. “What he played five games? He has good potential, I think he’ll be a good player. But in my experience playing him it was a lot of scheme stuff, it wasn’t like he was just dicing us up. It was a lot of scheme.”

That’s not some super burn, or even his best trash talk by any means. But the fact that Ramsey is OK with putting that out there as opposed to giving the typical cordial answer and moving along says everything about him.

July 4, 2018: His NFL Mount Rushmore that was him, him, him, and.... him

Hey! Another fun offseason thing bored media outlets like to do is ask people to construct a Mount Rushmore. NFL.com asked that question with an NFL slant, and Ramsey had the best answer by far:

“My Mount Rushmore is me with four different expressions.”

When you’re Jalen Ramsey, that’s the only answer. It’s not so much “hate”, but when you have the chance to put some of the game’s greats on a hypothetical Mount Rushmore, and you just choose yourself, that’s worthy of being on this list. Ramsey is also the standard for confidence goals.

Aug. 15, 2018: He just... vomited hella gems to GQ Magazine

Shouts out to Ramsey for replacing your morning coffee with zinger after zinger in his GQ interview with Clay Skipper. Here are all of the best bits of trash talk, condensed.

On Bills rookie QB Josh Allen:

I think [Buffalo Bills draft pick Josh] Allen is trash. I don’t care what nobody say. He’s trash. And it’s gonna show too. That’s a stupid draft pick to me. We play them this year, and I’m excited as hell. I hope he’s their starting quarterback. He played at Wyoming. Every time they played a big school—like, they played Iowa State, which is not a big school in my opinion because I went to Florida State, and he threw five interceptions, and they lost by a couple touchdowns or something like that.✞ He never beat a big school. If you look at his games against big schools, it was always hella interceptions, hella turnovers. It’s like: Yo, if you’re this good, why couldn’t you do better? He fits that mold, he’s a big, tall quarterback. Big arm, supposedly. I don’t see it, personally.

On Ravens QB Joe Flacco:

And just being honest about it, [Joe] Flacco sucks. I played him two years in a row. He sucks.

On how 49ers QB Jimmy Garoppolo might not be all that great:

They were like, “He beat the number one defense.” It was all schemes. He didn’t beat us. It wasn’t like he diced us up. It was literally all schemes. They were doing flat routes to the wide open fullback, and he’s running for 20 yards down the field four times during the game... So he didn’t really dice us up. It was their fullback and their tight end on over routes. But if you know how to work within your scheme then it means your good. I guess you could say he’s good.

It took a lot of him to call Rams QB Jared Goff good:

Jared Goff, he’s average to above average. He reminds me of Jimmy Garoppolo a little bit. Year one, he wasn’t good. He wasn’t even good enough to earn his own starting role. Like, if you the number one pick, you expected to start now. Period. He wasn’t ready to do that. He wasn’t able to do that. Then when he did get in, he didn’t really do that good. But in his second year, they got a new offensive coordinator. Your offensive coordinator is just your brainiac. When we played them, it felt like his offensive coordinator was drawing up perfect plays and then he was hitting the open man. For what his team ask him to do, yeah, he’s good.

On Giants QB Eli Manning:

Eli [Manning]... It’s not really Eli. I think it’s Odell [Beckham, Jr.]. I won’t say Eli’s good, I’ll say Odell’s good.

On Steelers QB Ben Roethlisberger:

Big Ben [Roethlisberger], I think he’s decent at best… It’s not Big Ben, it’s [Antonio Brown]. Big Ben slings the ball a lot of the time. He just slings it, and his receivers go get it. He has a strong arm, but he ain’t all that. I played him twice last year, and he really disappointed me. He’ll be in the Hall of Fame and all that.

On Colts QB Andrew Luck:

Andrew Luck—I don’t really think he’s that good.

On Falcons QB Matt Ryan:

I think Matt Ryan’s overrated. You can’t tell me you win MVP two years ago, and then last year, you a complete bust, and you still got Julio Jones? There’s no way that should ever happen. I don’t care. You know what that tells me? That tells me [Offensive Coordinator Kyle] Shanahan left, went to San Francisco, got Garoppolo, made Garoppolo this big thing. And now Garoppolo is a big name—and now [Matt Ryan] has this bad year? Alright, well, was it really you, or was it your coach? He was doing what was asked of him and it was making him look really, really good.

Aug. 30, 2018: More players who aren’t good!

In an interview with ESPN the Magazine’s Mina Kimes, Ramsey added people to his extensive list of players who Aren’t Good.

Danny Amendola:

In general, Ramsey continues, fans underestimate the effect that quarterback play has on wide receivers. For example, he says, look at Danny Amendola, who just signed with Miami. “Or is it Edelman?” he asks out loud. He mulls it over. No -- he’s thinking of Amendola. “He just got a brand-new contract and he is terrible,” he says. “People think he’s so great. No, he’s not. Tom [Brady] made him look good. Tom could take me as a receiver and I’d be a first-team All-Pro.”

Rob Gronkowski:

When I mention that the Patriots still have All-Pro tight end Rob Gronkowski, he makes a face. “I don’t think Gronk’s good.” Registering my involuntary blinking, he course-corrects. “Let me say -- I don’t think Gronk is as great as people think he is.”

[...]

I ask him what Gronk did in the AFC championship. “Literally nothing. He may have had, like, one catch,” he says. (Ramsey is correct, though Gronkowski left before halftime because of a concussion.)

This timeline will be updated for more hateration throughout the 2018 NFL season, and Ramsey’s career.