#San Diego State Football

[aagciii]

Rest In Peace Carl Weathers

[thekimdelacreme]

[dearsnow]

SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT (WITH YOUR FISTS FOR ONCE)

- you and bradley had always been attached at the hip until life pulled him away. when you’re finally living in the same place again, your unspoken feelings come to the surface during a san diego bonfire. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x gn!reader, reader is characterized as someone who doesn’t like much attention, jealousyyyyyyyyy, pining & arguments but fluff at the end, ⚠️ mentions of alcohol / weed)

word count: 2,500

a/n - it’s so entertaining to come up with synonyms for kissing 😭 anyways, enjoy this, and listen to american teenager by ethel cain. oh and i was also so tempted to make the girl mickey in a wig, but i held back.

Bradley Bradshaw likes you. He’d go as far as to say he loves you, if he was being honest. He’s never said it, though, not in that way.

When you first met, he was pulled to you like a magnet. It was preschool, and he never left your side. He made macaroni portraits of you and you crafted tiny little friendship bracelets for him. Neither of you could speak well, or write well, but you stuck together anyways.

Your first written words were each other’s names.

Everything snowballed from there, but he couldn’t say he was mad at it.

You were so entirely different, but that’s what made it good, in his opinion. He always needed eyes on him, not for any pretentious ego-boosting reasons, but because it made him thrive. You tended to hide in the shadows. When you gave your eyes to him, and him to you, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

He was the classic class clown type all throughout middle and high school, with a football jersey and everything. When you came to his games, he swore he played a million times better, and you were happy to indulge in his superstition.

You like him, too. You’d go as far as to say you love him, if you’re being honest. You might’ve said it if he hadn’t been so clearly your platonic life partner. You would follow him, as toddlers, with his shirt edge balled in your small fist. You tried to draw him more times than you could count, but it always looked wrong, like you couldn’t really capture the life that he held so deeply in his eyes. You even considered joining the cheerleading squad for him, but you would’ve cringed under the gaze of the crowd.

When he left for the navy, and for college, and for anything after that, you wished you could bounce across the United States with him. Instead, you wrote him letters; copious amounts of them.

One thing that you both never dared to cross was the bounds of friendship. He would hold your hand, his thumb smoothing over the side of your fist, and there was nothing romantic about it. God, you wished it was, though.

Now that you’ve moved to San Diego, following him one last time, you beg whatever makes the rules to break them just once.

You walk up behind a broad-shouldered man you barely recognize and tap him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be lost. Could you direct me to a man named Bradley? I believe his call sign is something silly, like ‘duck’.”

He whips around, sunglasses and mustache entirely new to you. He speaks your name in a breathy whisper, like he’s afraid his words will break if he says them too loud. “You’re here? Like actually?”

You’ve barely replied before you’re wrapped in a hug, feet lifted off the ground and body spun around so many times you think you might be sick. “Geez, Brad, put me down!”

He sets you down gently, holding out an arm for stability as you collect your bearings. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe I’m seeing your face after all this time.” You’re even more breathtaking than he remembers.

San Diego has done him well, you reckon. His gold-tinted skin holds a deeper sense of warmth, now, even though he has always run hot. “You better get used to it. I have a fancy new apartment now, so I’m here to stay.”

His face holds a beaming grin, and the whole world falls away. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I’d be stuck here with just my coworkers.” He doesn’t even notice how you look at him with lovesick eyes.

After two months of San Diego, you say the one thing you thought you would never say: “I’m so sick of the sun.”

It’s midday, and you’re prepping for a Fourth of July bonfire party on the beach. The sun is beating down on your back, forcing you to scamper into the ocean every once in a while. Bradley is right beside you, wheeling yet another cooler onto the sand. “If I wasn’t worried about our shit being stolen, I’d suggest we abandon it and let Jake do all the work.”

You laugh. Jake was the one who suggested the whole bonfire, but, of course, he was “too busy” to help set up. You don’t mind doing the work. If it was an opportunity for you to be beside Bradley, you’d do anything. You’d even brave the burning ball of gas in the sky.

As you work, the sun disappears quickly.

By this point, after over two decades of friendship, you’ve lost a bit of that hope that pushed you to follow Brad in the first place. You know he’s attractive, and every woman in the world seems to know it too. What you didn’t know is that you’re pretty damn attractive too. As you’ve told yourself, you prefer to keep the attention off of you.

So, as the sun’s last dying rays scatter over the cooling sand, you pretend not to notice the women ogling your best friend.

The bonfire is great. Amazing, even. The flames reach high into the sky and the smell of smoke permeates the air; everything is cast in this sort of hazy glow, highlighting tanned skin and bright swimsuits. There’s also a woman chatting up Bradley, touching his arm flirtatiously, but you push that to the back of your mind. Instead, you’re focused on the guy in front of you, even when her giggle sends a ball of spikes into your heart.

He’s tall, a little on the skinny side, with tousled black hair and a puka shell necklace. Sand clings to his sandaled feet. He hands you a beer, which you tell yourself you won’t drink much of. You’ve already had a bit too much.

“So, know anyone here?” He asks. He’s eyeing you with a certain ferocity that you don’t notice, his gaze raking up and down your body.

You pop the can open and take a small sip. “Yeah. I know Bradshaw, and the rest by association.” You gesture to Jake and Natasha, who are arguing over a beach volleyball. You almost smile at the way she jabs him in the ribs, making him double over just enough for her to steal what’s so carefully held in his hands. The guy nods.

“I don’t. I’m here for the vibes, y’know?” He takes a step closer, and you notice he smells like smoke and something deeper, like perfumed weed. “And the pretty people.”

You shift in your place. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” You’re almost teasing now, completely missing the hunger in the way he licks his lips. Maybe you’re a little drunk, or maybe you’re just enjoying how someone seems to be giving you the longing looks you so sorely crave. It’s one night, you figure. You won’t ever see him again. What’s wrong with a little good-natured flirting?

“Absolutely.” He murmurs, reaching forward. His hand connects with the back of your neck, his breath cascading over your face, and your eyes flutter shut— before you’re yanked backwards by an arm around your waist.

You stumble. “What the hell?” You curse, colliding with a hard, warm chest. You drop your beer in the sand as you fall back. It’s Bradley, and he looks furious. “Brad, are you kidding me?”

“Come here.” His voice is lethally quiet and sharp as a knife. Your mind is reeling as you follow him a few paces closer to the fire, but a hot pool of anger sits in your stomach.

“Are you being serious right now? What in the world were you thinking?” You hiss. You look up at his tight-lipped face, utterly stoic in the light behind him.

“I’m not letting you kiss that piece of shit.”

“Who are you to decide who I kiss?” You’re so, so mad. So mad you could punch someone, but that would probably hurt you more than the person your fist connects with. Bradley just intervened in the one thing you thought he would never intervene in. You’ve let him swap spit with girls you’ve never seen before, and now he’s over here acting like you kissing one guy is the epitome of nastiness?

He scoffs. “You didn’t even notice, did you? That he was eyeing you like a piece of meat? God, he reeks of weed and swamp ass, too. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I could have the once in a lifetime opportunity to make out with a perfectly attractive guy without someone interrupting.” Your arms are crossed, but you feel a lump forming in your throat. In your mind, that really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you go out of your way to meet people, and the people you’ve met have never even slyly complimented you. You’re not the type that gets dates or drinks sent your way or anything more than platonic. Currently, platonic is staring you in the face with the rage of a thousand suns behind his eyes.

“Make out with Bob or Nat, I don’t care. At least they won’t undress you with their fuckboy blue eyes. Even Bagman is a better choice.”

“You don’t get to decide those things— friends don’t get to decide those things. I mean, I didn’t throw a hissy fit when you were openly flirting with that girl.” In the back of your mind, you know he’s right. You know that your stomach dropped when the guy leaned closer to you, and that your kicked-down self esteem made him out to be a whole lot more attractive than he probably (definitely) was.

Bradley runs a hand through his already slightly messy hair, sighing like he’s regretting ever hitting you with a sand pail in preschool. “I at least get to decide when to save you from creeps and when to leave your love life alone. Trust me, you were in more danger than I ever was.”

“I reiterate, friends don’t get to decide those things.” He can see the insecurity swimming in your beautiful eyes. Yeah, you’re definitely at least somewhat drunk. You’d never argue with him like this if you weren’t. You’re also more than a little mad, and disgusted with yourself, and disappointed with your lack of charisma, and so jealous of the girl he probably tangled tongues with.

“What do I have to be, then, to get it through your thick skull? You know I love you. I’m just looking out for you.” His voice is softer, now, and sweeter, dripping from his mustache like honey.

He reaches out, and you cringe away. Love. It’s a word unspoken, one that’s been lingering on your mind since the day in seventh grade when he suddenly became attractive to you. Like most things, you assume it’s friendly. “Do you really love me if this is what you’re pulling? Say it like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

“I love you.” He states, taking your hands in his. This time, as you try to pull yourself from his grip, he holds on. “I love you.” He says again. It holds a certain weight that gets your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He’s firm but gentle, and he can feel the years of unspoken feelings bubbling on the tip of his tongue.

That’s when the guy from before decides to approach, sliding a hand uncomfortably down your waist. “I think you interrupted us, dude.”

Bradley drops your hands, and before the man can grab you even lower, he’s getting decked in the face.

He collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and cursing like a bitch. “Fuck you, what the fuck! Fuckin’ Navy piece of fucking shit.” You raise your hand to your mouth as he scrambles to get away. His blood leaves a scarlet trail of droplets in the sand.

“Bradley…”

“I just want you to be safe.” He mutters, like he didn’t just punch someone in the face for you. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, romantically, but I can’t stand seeing you with guys that aren’t as smart or good-looking as one fraction of your pinky toe.”

You reach up to his jaw, carefully, gingerly, before pressing your lips to his.

Like a scene from a movie, Fourth of July fireworks explode behind you, not unlike the fireworks going off in your mind. He has one hand on your waist and one hand on the back of your head, and neither make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s Bradley, and he makes you feel like the safest person in the world.

Your lips are soft, so soft. Bradley can practically hear his heart pounding in his ears as his body finally takes in the moment he’s been dreaming about his entire life. When you pull away, he misses the feeling, like the lost puzzle piece of his heart was stolen as soon as it was put back.

“You think my pinky toe is smart and good-looking?” You place a hand on his bare chest, teasing. He gives you the grin you’ve come to adore.

“Every part of you is. That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too. For more than your pinky toe, of course.”

“Oh,” he says, suddenly conscious of the self-satisfied look you shoot her, “y’know that girl I was talking to?” You raise your eyebrows questioningly as he nods his head at her. She sends a little wave, in which you notice a sparkling ring on her finger. “That, my love, is Reuben’s wife.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet as the embarrassment sets in, your cheeks growing warmer than the fire. You mouth a quiet “sorry” at her and she laughs, shooing your apology away with a gentle sweep of her hand.

“Is that why you went after Mr. Broken nose?” Bradley whispers in your ear. “That’s one hell of a way to make me jealous.”

You crinkle your nose as your face flushes impossibly warmer. “Not everything has an ulterior motive, Bradshaw.”

He looks perfect in this lighting, and to him, so do you. You can hardly believe that decades of friendship and tension and wishing led to this slightly improbable moment. You’re honestly glad you almost kissed a stranger.

“Yeah, but you’d best believe I do.”

He takes your hand in his and drops to one knee. Everyone turns to look at him, but for once, the only eyes that matter are yours. “Will you do me the honor of letting me be your lawfully appointed boyfriend?” You smile so wide you think your cheeks might split. You join him in the sand, holding his face in your hands and kissing his cheek.

“You really did mean it, huh, Brad?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes. It’s a definite, no-questions-asked, yes.”

[meazalykov]

dance moms

laura freigang x dancer!reader

summary: after moving back to germany, to escape the chaos you've suffered in the states, you meet a photographer (who happens to be a footballer as well.)

a/n: if you don't know what the american reality show "dance moms" is, I'd do some basic research in order to understand the first part of this fic <3

growing up at the ALDC felt like being in a pressure cooker. 

you were only two years old when your mom, isla, moved the both of you from germany to pennsylvania in the united states. 

she put you in dance classes as soon as she could. at first, it was exciting—you loved the way your body could express emotions through movement. you loved gaining flexibility and having a routine. you loved performing and getting to put on pretty costumes. but that changed the moment dance moms came into the picture.

at just eleven years old, you were pulled into the chaotic world of reality TV. cameras followed your every move, every mistake. 

abby lee miller’s constant critiques weighed you down, her screaming echoing in your head long after rehearsals ended. she changed since the cameras started filming her. 

“you’ll never be good enough if you don’t push harder, y/n!” she’d shout during practice, her words biting deep into your skin like needles.

there were moments where you had solos. those were the dances you loved the most. you always scored very well and got on top of the pyramid whenever maddie wasn’t. 

sometime during season four, there was a significant moment that didn’t leave your mind for a while. 

you stood in the wings at a competition in san diego, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath after your solo. the adrenaline rushed through your veins, but it was dulled by the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

you’d stumbled on one of your turns—something that wasn’t like you at all. but it was there, clear as day, right in front of the judges and the audience. and now, you were about to face abby.

as soon as they announced the results, you knew it wasn’t going to be good. 

second place. you’d lost to maddie. again. but what made it worse was that you weren’t just up against anyone—this was a week where you were up against the candy apples. abby’s biggest rivals. 

this meant that her mood was already sour, and you knew this was going to tip her over the edge.

the second you stepped into the dressing rooms, abby’s gaze was already locked on you, her face a storm of frustration and anger. 

she didn’t even wait for everyone to sit down before coming at you.

“second place?” abby barked, her voice sharp as a whip. “second place, y/n? you know that’s not acceptable. not here!” 

you flinched but kept your head down, your heart racing. you wanted to explain—to say that the stumble was a mistake, something you couldn’t control—but you knew it wouldn’t matter. not to abby.

“what happened out there?” she demanded, sitting down in her chair, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. 

“you stumbled on a turn, y/n. a turn! something you should be perfect at by now.”

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i know, abby. i’m sorry. i—i just—”

“sorry isn’t good enough,” abby cut you off, her voice dripping with disappointment. “you don’t get to be sorry when you’re given this great opportunity! maddie would’ve never done that and her first place showed that!” 

the mention of maddie stung more than anything. it always felt like you were in her shadow, no matter how hard you worked. no matter how much you tried to prove yourself. 

abby’s golden girl could do no wrong, and you were left picking up the pieces when you didn’t measure up.

“you’re better than that,” abby continued, pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“you’re one of my best dancers, but today? you danced like an amateur. you embarrassed me, y/n. you embarrassed this entire team.”

her words hit you like a slap, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. you didn’t want to cry—not in front of abby, not in front of the other girls—but it was hard to hold it in.

“abby, i’m—”

“don’t say you’re sorry again,” she snapped, her voice rising. 

“i don’t want to hear it. i want you to do better. no more mistakes, no more excuses. if you want to be a star, you need to act like one. and today, you didn’t.”

you stood there, frozen, trying to keep your emotions in check as abby continued to berate you. 

it felt like the weight of the world was crushing you, and all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, abby huffed and shook her head. “go. i don’t want to look at you right now.”

with those final words, you turned and walked away to get ready for the group dance, your body feeling heavier with every step. 

backstage before the group, you caught maddie’s eye, and she gave you a small, sympathetic smile. but it didn’t make you feel any better. nothing could right now.

you wanted to scream, to cry, to ask your mom why she let you stay in this mess, why she let abby tear you down like this. 

your mom stood by you and seemed like your biggest supporter. but as the years passed and you became a fixture on the show, you started to wonder why she allowed it. 

why she let abby break you down, week after week. 

“mom, why do we keep doing this?” you asked one evening after a particularly brutal competition weekend. 

“why do you let her treat me like this?” 

“it’s for your future, y/n,” isla had said, eyes clouded with hope—or maybe guilt. 

“you’re going to be a star.”

but that wasn’t how you felt. you didn’t want to be a star anymore. 

after six seasons on dance moms, you were burnt out. drained. you’d lost your passion for dance, the thing that once gave you joy now filled with dread. 

when you turned sixteen, you’d had enough. 

“i can’t do this anymore,” you told your mom one night after another exhausting filming day. “i want out.”

isla had hesitated, but eventually, the both of you left the show. the cameras stopped rolling, but the damage had already been done. 

the chaos, the constant pressure to be perfect—it stripped you of any love you had for dancing. you couldn’t even look at a dance studio without feeling a knot form in your stomach. 

you grew distant from your mom too. it was hard to understand why she had put you through it. 

“why didn’t you just protect me?” you’d whispered one evening, tears filling your eyes. but isla didn’t have an answer that made sense.

by the time you turned 19 in 2019, you were desperate for a fresh start. you packed your things and moved back to frankfurt germany, your birthplace. 

germany felt different—calmer, quieter. your mother didn’t come back with you which relieved you.

it was exactly what you needed. 

over the next few years, you dove into therapy, trying to unpack the trauma of your childhood. it was slow, difficult work, but through it, you discovered a few other hobbies like photography, and ceramics. you went to university too.

and then, suddenly, almost unexpectedly, dance found its way back to you. 

therapy helped you see it differently—no longer as something tied to pain, but as something that had once been yours. something beautiful. 

by 2022, you were back in the studio, dancing again, feeling lighter than you had in years.

you built your own studio in a nice neighborhood in frankfurt. you weren’t a dance instructor now, maybe someday, but you used the space to practice or hire (emotionally available) dance instructors to help you.

one afternoon, while you were in the middle of a lyrical practice, your friend macy and her sister, sara, showed up at your studio.

the three of you had become close since you moved back to germany. 

macy went to your university before you both graduated. she had nice tan skin and long raven colored hair. 

her older sister sara is a footballer who plays for frankfurt frauen. sara was like an older sister to you, while macy was your confidant. 

“y/n, you’ve gotta hear this,” macy said, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

you wiped sweat from your forehead, raising an eyebrow. “what now?”

“sara’s photographer friend wants to take pictures of you, specifically, for her portfolio, she’s been keeping up with your instagram content!” macy explained. sara nodded in agreement.

“you know, someone who can capture those insane moves of yours,” sara chimed in with a laugh.

you hesitated for a moment, but to your own surprise, you agreed. “okay, sure. why not?”

both macy and sara looked shocked. 

“wow, that was easier than i thought it would be,” macy said, her eyes wide.

“yeah, thought we’d have to convince you a little more,” sara added with a chuckle.

two days later, you found yourself at a field location, waiting for the photographer. 

the sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the area, when you saw her—laura freigang. 

she was taller than you expected, with an easy smile and a camera slung over her shoulder. you couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was, and you made a mental note to ask sara about her later.

“you must be y/n, i’m laura” laura said, walking up to you.

“that’s me,” you replied, feeling a little flustered as her eyes met yours. 

the shoot started, and laura was immediately in her element, capturing your movements with film. she had a way of making you feel comfortable, encouraging you to move naturally. 

“that’s perfect, just like that,” she’d say, her voice soft but confident. the tone of her voice made you feel a certain type of way as well.

you danced freely, twirling and leaping in the open field, and every now and then, you’d catch her smiling at you from behind the camera. 

there was one moment where laura calls you out for something, 

“where are you from in america?” laura asked. 

this was during a water break after shooting yourself doing high kicks and pirouettes.

“i was born here, but i lived in pennsylvania after i turned two. for a while i lived in california but that was until 3 years ago, when i moved back here.” you swallowed, thinking about the distant memories of your childhood. 

“pennsylvania! i went to penn state for a while!” laura says, surprised. 

“that is so cool!”

afterwards, there was definitely some flirting going on—small comments, lingering looks. after the shoot wrapped up, laura lowered her camera, looking at you with a playful glint in her eyes. 

“you know, this was fun. thank you for doing this for me. we should do it again sometime… maybe over dinner?”

you blinked, caught off guard but quickly recovering. 

“are you asking me out on a date, laura freigang?”

she smirked. “i guess i am.”

you smiled. “okay, i’m in.”

two days later, you were sitting across from her at a cozy restaurant, the low hum of conversation filling the air. 

the two of you clicked instantly, talking about everything from the shoot to your different interests. halfway through the meal, you said something which confuses laura. 

“do you have other hobbies beside photography? you seem like a pretty busy woman.” you smirk. 

“i’m sorry?” laura’s eyebrows raise. 

your eyes widen, afraid that you said something that is offensive.

“wait i’m sorry– its just sara tells me that you’re a photographer so i wondered if you do other things. do you go to another uni here after you left penn state or if you do modeling or–” you pause as laura giggles. 

“i’m flattered that you think i am a model– but i play for frankfurt and the german national team with sara...”

your eyes widened in surprise. how did sara not tell you this? she just made it seem like laura was just a photographer in frankfurt.

“wait, seriously? you’re a footballer and a photographer?”

laura grinned. “yeah. i like to keep busy.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling more flustered than you’d like to admit. 

“that’s... really impressive,” you said, feeling a little shy under her gaze.

as time passed, you started going to laura’s games, cheering her on from the stands. 

your bond deepened with every date, every conversation, until one day, laura asked you to be her girlfriend inside of her living room.

the soft glow of the floor lamp laura has casting a warm light over her space. you sat on her couch, legs curled under you, a half-empty cup of tea resting on the table in front of you. 

you’d spent the evening like this, just talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. but now, a comfortable silence had settled between you, the kind that felt intimate without needing to be filled.

laura sat beside you, her arm resting along the back of the couch. you could feel the warmth of her presence next to you, and every so often, your hands would brush when one of you reached for something or shifted in your seat. 

each touch sent a small spark of electricity through you, a reminder of the feelings you’d been harboring for her since that photoshoot months ago.

“you’ve been quiet for a bit,” you finally said, glancing over at her, noticing the way her jaw clenched slightly, like she was trying to find the right words.

she looked at you, her eyes soft but searching. “yeah, i’ve just… been thinking,” she said quietly, her voice low and a little hesitant.

“thinking?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening just a little. you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those light colored eyes of hers. “about what?”

she took a deep breath, turning her body slightly toward you. the air in the room shifted, something heavier settling between the two of you. “about you,” she said, her voice steady now, like she had finally made up her mind about what she wanted to say.

your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your chest tighten. "me?" you asked softly, not sure where this was going, but the intensity in laura's gaze was undeniable.

“yeah, you,” she repeated, her eyes not leaving yours. 

“we’ve spent a lot of time together these past few months, nearly everyday, and i’ve really gotten to know you. i didn’t expect to feel this way when i first met you at that shoot, but,” she trailed off, her hand moving to gently take yours, her thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “i can’t stop thinking about you.”

your heart raced as she spoke, her words settling in the space between you like a confession you’d been secretly waiting for but never expected to hear. 

“laura…” you started, but the words caught in your throat, your emotions tangled up in the moment.

“i know this might be a lot,” she said, her grip on your hand tightening just slightly, “but i really like you, y/n. i don’t want to keep dancing around it anymore.” she paused, her eyes softening as she looked at you, her vulnerability laid bare. 

you both giggled at her pun before she spoke, 

“can i be your girlfriend?”

“what wait?” you were surprised. 

“will you be my girlfriend!?”

for a moment, you couldn’t speak. your mind raced with thoughts of every moment you’d shared, the way she made you feel without even trying, the way her presence made the world seem quieter, more bearable. 

you’d known this was going to happen someday, but hearing her say it out loud made it all feel more real than you’d imagined.

“yes,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. but the word hung in the air like a promise, and the smile that broke across laura’s face made your heart feel like it might burst. “yes, i’d love to.”

her smile widened, and she leaned in, her forehead resting against yours for a moment, the closeness of her sending a shiver down your spine. 

"yay," she murmured softly, her breath warm against your skin.

your fingers intertwined with hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go of the fears, the doubts, the baggage from your past. 

in that moment, it was just you and laura, your hearts laid bare, and the quiet understanding that something beautiful was beginning between the two of you.

you chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look at laura fully. “how about i cook for you? tomorrow night?” you suggested, your eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"i’m pretty good in the kitchen."

laura raised an eyebrow, smirking. "oh really? a dancer, a university graduate, and a chef? you're just full of surprises."

you grinned, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “you’ll have to find out for yourself.” 

and as she pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand, you couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

it didn’t take long for fan pages to catch on. suddenly, everyone was talking about how one of their favorite childhood dancers was now dating a german footballer. 

fans were floored and happy for you-- but to you, it was surreal in the best way. 

as you sat next to laura after one of her games, her hand wrapped around yours, you couldn’t help but think that despite everything—despite the chaos of your past—you’d finally found happiness. 

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

a/n: wrote this two months ago but i wasn’t sure if i liked the writing and the concept😭 ill still post it anyways

[12woso12]

Dorothy lands in North London- Prologue

Arsenal buy America's top defender: You.

TW: mentions of mental health, suicide, please don't read if you don't feel up to it

You were built to survive pressure. You were moulded perfectly by the drunk slurs of your father and the untimely death of your mother. There wasn't a single moment that you couldn't handle, you took everything the world threw at you as though you'd been and done it all before.

World cup penalty? No problem.

Injury setback? Bring it on.

Arsenal transfer? Hell yes.

You took everything in your stride, laughing at your own misfortune, finding humour in the darkness. That's how you'd handled your mum's suicide: with insensitive jokes and a cheeky grin that never quite managed to meet your eyes. Most of your frustrations were taken out on the pitch, rough tackles or risky arguments with the opposition had resulted in you being the most carded playing in the NWSL at just 16 years old.

But your aggressive nature on the pitch never seeped into your personality away from football, you made sure of that. You'd do anything to ensure you never inherited your dad's temper and hurt people the way he'd hurt people. The way he'd hurt your mum...the way he hurt you. It was essential that your frustrations were kept firmly on football.

The year you were first called up to the USWNT was the year you finally made enough money to move out. You were sixteen and desperate to escape the clutches of your dad and his disastrous ways. The call up was a long time coming, the NWSL hadn't seen a player with as much potential as you since a teenage Alex Morgan first appeared on the scene.

The call up gained you more attention than you were used to. Granted, you were pretty well known in the States already having played with Gotham city for a year but the media attention you gained for a national call up? That changed the course of your life forever.

Your first tournament with the national team had been nothing short of incredible. It was the 2019 World Cup and you'd spent the entire group stage sat on the bench until Becky Sauerbrunn had gone down injured in the round of 16 and suddenly, you'd been given the chance of a lifetime.

Courageously, at your big age of sixteen, you played in every game until the trophy was in your hands and you were being hailed as the next Bobby Moore. A comparison you were incredibly embarrassed about but one that your teammates, Alex especially, were more than happy to keep reminding you of.

Five years later and you were coming to the end of your contract with Orlando Pride after playing two seasons for them. You were weighing up options for the future, you'd received enough interest from teams across the world to make the decision challenging enough and it was Marta who'd first noticed your troubled expression at training which was an unusual sight compared to your normal sunny nature.

'What's the matter, kid? Your face stuck like that or something?' Marta approached you after drills, concerned as you struggled to shoot her a smile. If there was someone who had all the answers, it was Marta.

'I don't know what to do' You began dropping onto the pitch as the rest of your teammates scurried inside, eager to get to lunch. Marta sat herself down besides you frowning.

'What?' she questioned

You sign and shrug, deflated. 'I've got a lot of interest for my next contract. Obviously Orlando want me to stay but...Gotham want me back, San Diego have been in touch. Even some stuff from Europe'

Much to your surprise, Marta chuckles. 'Kid if i had your problems i'd never want a problem-free life again. You're a superstar! All this attention is deserved'

A small smile stretched across your face. You supposed that Martha did have a point, you were in an incredibly lucky position.

'The offer from San Diego did sound promising...' your mind began to wonder to the conversation you'd had earlier with your agent. He'd be ecstatic about the deal they were willing to offer, there would be a lot of money involved.

'San Diego?' Marta scoffed 'Anjinho, you should set your sights further. If Europe come looking, you make sure you are found.'

You sighed. Europe was just so far away. 'Arsenal have been interested for a while'

Marta slapped you gently on the shoulder 'Arsenal!' she exclaimed 'You love Arsenal...why would you pass on their offer?'

'They're a top team, i mean Leah Williamson plays there. Alessia Russo, Kim Little. I can't hold a candle to them' It was true, you thought. You were only 21, why would they need a kid when they have all the experience and expertise of England's captain?

'Don't be estupida. They would be lucky to have you. You can't spend your entire career in the states. You're too good for that. Way.Too.Good.'

You feel pride seep into your bones. If the great Marta thought you were good, then that was definitely a compliment worth keeping close to your heart.

'Go to Arsenal.' Marta continued. 'Get as far away from here as possible'

'Yeah?' You asked nervously.

'Make yourself found, kid'

Part 1

[minkyungseokie]

Influencers

All my favorite YouTube and TikTok influencers that are rarely written about!

Arthurtv

Arthur Frederick, better known online as Arthur TV, is a Jersey commentary YouTuber known for his entertaining commentary and calm.

Wroetoshaw

Harold "Harry" Christopher George Lewis better known online as W2S (short for Wroetoshaw), is a Guernsey-British YouTuber known for his FIFA Draft and Pack videos. He is also widely known for his real-life challenges with his family and friends. Harry is one of the seven members of the Sidemen.

TBJZL

Tobit John "Tobi" Brown better known online as TBJZL (short for Tobjizzle), is an English YouTuber best known for his FIFA gaming videos. He is a member of the Sidemen.

Jake Webber

Jake Webber is an American YouTuber and musician who uploads vlogs, music, and challenge videos. He is also known for his quick-cutting videos. He also has a live channel where he often uploads food videos.

Fundy

Floris Damen better known online as Fundy (also known as ItsFundy and FFundage), is a Dutch YouTuber and Twitch streamer known for his alterations and videos about the game Minecraft.

George Clarkey

George Arthur Clarke better known online as George Clarkey, is an English YouTuber and TikToker, best known for his funny commentary & reaction videos about trending topics. He has co-hosted the popular podcast The Useless Hotline Podcast

ChrisMD

Christopher Michael Dixon better known online as ChrisMD , is a Jersey YouTuber best known for his football challenges and FIFA pack opening videos.,He lives in London, England, United Kingdom.

Corpse Husband

Corpse Husband  also known as CORPSE, is an American YouTuber and musician from San Diego, California, United States. He is best known for his deep, distinguishable voice and playing Among Us with other YouTubers and Twitch streamers, along with his horror narrations.

Disguised Toast

Jeremy Wang better known online as Disguised Toast (or simply Toast), is an Taiwanese-born Canadian gaming YouTuber and Twitch streamer who mainly makes content around League of Legends and Among Us on both platforms.

Sykkuno

Thomas  better known online as Sykkuno is an American YouTuber, live streamer, and former Twitch streamer who is mainly known for his gaming content.

The Eret

Alastair better known online as Eret (also known as TheEret), is an English gaming YouTuber known for playing Minecraft on YouTube and Twitch.

Spifey

George "Geo" Anderson better known online as Spifey, is an English Minecraft gaming YouTube channel that shows off older versions of the game. Some of the content on Spifey's channel include listening to certain annoying songs to win money for a long period of time with users of Minecraft on the servers and trolling his friends with cursed Minecraft mods

Skeppy

Zak Ahmed better known online as Skeppy, is an American YouTuber known for his Minecraft challenge videos involving numerous contestants and his collaborations with fellow YouTuber BadBoyHalo.

Quackity

Alexis "Alex" Maldonado better known online as Quackity (formerly QuackityHQ), is a Mexican YouTuber and Twitch streamer known for playing the video game Minecraft and his raid videos.

kennysong

Kenny Song is a famous TikTok star, Instagram star, and food influencer from the US. He shares Asian cuisine and simple meal and snack options. He also posts shorts videos alongside his cooking videos

[jaidens]

I Find Myself Running Home To Your Sweet Nothings

pairing [s] : jake seresin x reader

warning [s] : nothing much

a/n [s] : requests are open

Jake was a man of many deserving titles.

He was a Captain in the United States Navy, and he held his own Top Gun classes to teach graduates. He was highly respected and was understood to be hard as well not understanding if you had messed up and would have killed your team of pilots. However, who would have known the big and scary Jake Seresin was a family man? Jacob Seresin, the same guy who yells and the room goes quiet, carrying his sleeping daughter in his arms while he packs up the items he chose to bring to the park. The same guy who puts Barbie Band-Aids on his daughter’s knee whenever she jumps off a swing and scrapes her knee against the wood chippings.

Jake, your lovely husband, wakes you up with kisses and soft touches that lie on your skin for years to come. Jake Seresin who loves his sweet girls and gives kisses to his daughter’s head before she tackles school for the day to come. The Jake you fell in love with who drinks Pumpkin Spice Lattes the day they get released at Starbucks. The one who yells and screams at The Longhorns winning a football game. Jake Seresin, the man who has a heart big enough for hundreds of people that he carries with him every single day he lives. The guy who adds extra sugar and creamer to his coffee because of the bitterness of it.

You're in love; you're completely sure of it. The baby on your stomach that weighs on you is another reason why. The small boy sits on your chest, sound asleep with a hat on his small head and a one piece swimsuit. Your daughter and Jake are in the ocean, catching waves with their boogie boards as you stay back with your song, Theodore. He's small and tiny, only two months old. The heat of San Diego pushes through the canopy you have set up, making you sweat and Theo as well. You stand up and push against the beach chair and walk to the shore of the beach. The sun is high in the sky, the sunglasses you wear barely do much to stop the burning in your eyes.

The water is much cooler, but it only does so much to help the heat that radiates from Theo and the sun at the same time. Jake has a, particularly sleepy, Lily in his arms as she yawns. “Everyone is getting sleepy, huh?” You say as your children are laying against their father's toned chest as he pushes his hair back. He's hot and handsome, the water that drops done him gets you undeniably hot inside. “Lemme hold Theo.” He tells you and talks the s boy in his arms, lying him on his arm and head against his bicep. Lily and Josie start walking back to the tent and sit down, eating the snacks you had packed for them.

“He was so hot whenever he was laying on my chest. I had to get into the water.” Jake laughs and gives you a kiss against the lips. He smells and tastes like the ocean and salt water, as you almost gag at the taste. “Let’s get maybe.. 2 bags and take them to the house. We're allowed to keep the canopy and stuff on here because it's our private beach.” Jake tells you and you nod, taking Theo back in your arms as you watch Jake pick up things and put them in bags and pick them up gracefully before beginning to walk up the beach. Lily is talking with Josie about what they were going to watch on Netflix whenever they got back and you smiled happily. This is what you needed. A family. A caring family with people who have learned to live and support one another.

Jake is taking the things upstairs and you follow after him, before Theo starts to get fussy and upset about being in the heat and not his bed. Jake, a father of many years, quickly resumes his role and takes care of his son. “I love you.” You say as you watch him hold Theo in one arm and the bags in the other. “Love you too honey!” He shouts from your bedroom and you walk into him. The Jake Seresin you know and love, the one who changes diapers and gives raspberries to Theo’s stomach as he does so. It was a reprise of his Father's role for a new baby, and he was in it very well. It was the total he took more seriously than the Captain or the King of Darts at the bar. A father. A man who has children he loves and cares for them.

It was love and that is exactly what you loved. The domesticity makes you smile and stand on that edge of the doorway as you listen to whatever he has been saying. You love him: and he loves you. So much more than everyone else.

[alleightbits]

Idea for an ending to 20020

(credit to @stellar-revolution and @salted-arctic for inspiration in a fan Discord server)

Picture this: Nick and Manny finally making the trek back to San Diego’s home field. It takes them centuries of dodging adversaries to build up the necessary OBT all over again, but they decide to do it together. They do not want to be separated any more.

And then they make it. They embrace. They kiss. And as they both collapse down on the field in disbelief, taking it all in, they discuss how the other teams have probably seen their scorecards update. How, despite history texts becoming interminably long stretches of boredom in the wake of stagnant immortality, perhaps only finely perused by true diehards, they’ve permanently etched their names in them.

And as they both agree that the beauty of life sprouts from humanity’s tenaciousness, we segue to the probes, watching this momentous occasion unfold. Nine and Ten notice Juice is unusually quiet. Privately, he wishes he could celebrate as fully as the Californian duo can. He wishes he could cry joyful tears.

They cautiously ask if he’s okay, and the words that spill out of him are unlike any ramble he’s done before. How he created and managed this national-sprawling game out of love, and pride. How he was so excited to show Nine, who admired the state of American football right upon discovering it, something more complex, more exciting, with more detail that he’d hope they’d be receptive to when it’s explained. How he wanted to impress Ten, who’d had an equally-attentive eye to football, but would never admit to appreciating its present-day eccentricities.

And the humans? Well, it took a lot of rule negotiations, and a metric ton of put-on seriousness as commissioner, but Juice knew they’d excel. Humanity, in its infinite lifespan, needed new amusements, and that suited Juice just fine. It was all for moments like this one, ones that help them realize that they’re happy to be alive, that life can be beautiful. Ones that the probes, in their status as eternal observers, can experience vicariously.

As his speech degrades into bunches of typos and keysmashes, Nine and Ten reassure him that his efforts weren’t wasted, that they love him as much and as deeply as he loves them. In that moment, a silent understanding forms among the trio that tenacity truly does bring beauty.

[themenendezbrothers]

Lyle and Eric's friend Anerae Brown aka X-Raided

NY post article x

Brown, in contrast, characterized Lyle and Erik as mentors who encouraged him to change his life by taking more than a dozen prison classes and programs, including anger management and Narcotics Anonymous courses.

Brown first met Lyle in late 2000 at Mule Creek, where they quickly bonded over their shared notoriety despite vastly different backgrounds.

Brown was a Crip from Sacramento. Known in the yard as X-Raided, the rapper released his first album at 15 and still had a “foot in gang-banging,” a lifestyle far from the affluence of Beverly Hills in which Menendez had lived, he said.

“He’s a very charismatic, magnetic person,” Brown told The Post. “We just became people who could rely on each other.”

The connection was first forged on a prison football field, where other inmates doled out cheap shots to Lyle, including elbowing him in a “petty” way, prompting Brown to stand up for him.

The pair also connected over media scrutiny. Brown continued to release music from prison, attracting interest from reporters and even MTV.

Lyle soon urged Brown to renounce his violent past. That helped spark a seismic shift, with the rapper embarking on a decades-long quest to transform his life.

“Lyle was the guy who started teaching me the value of utilizing my popularity to my advantage in a way where I can be influential for positive things,” said Brown, whose latest album is available Friday. “He was the first person to say, ‘Hey man, I think you should sign up for these classes, there’s another way to do your time.'”

In 2008, Brown was transferred to Pleasant Valley State Prison where Erik Menendez was waiting to greet him, after a letter from Lyle.

“It said, essentially, ‘I love X-Raided, he’s my little brother and take care of him how you would take care of me,'” Brown recalled.

Brown praised Erik as a “calm, put-together” soul who picked up right where Lyle left off. “He was a positive influence on me, and somebody that I looked up to,” said Brown, who left the Crips.

“I became Project Menendez and they really did everything they could do to make sure I didn’t spend the rest of my life in that environment,” Brown said.

In 2018, he was paroled after years of tutelage and guidance from both brothers. Erik even wrote a letter of support for the rapper, he said.

via Robert Rand's blog:

"Brown remains in touch with both of the Menendez brothers whom he considers close friends. Anerae has told me that his contact with Erik and Lyle was an integral part of his personal development to turn his life away from violence and gang banging which he now describes as “parasitic”.

Brown, left, aka rapper X-Raided, considers Lyle Menendez a mentor. The two were photographed inside the Echo Yard in 2018, when local paper The San Diego Tribune profiled it and featured Lyle.

Image source: press

Image source: X-Raided Brown via NY Post

Anerae “X-Raided” Brown, second from right, with Lyle Menendez, who became a “mentor” for the reformed gangster after the pair met at Mule Creek State Prison.

image source: X-Raided Brown via Ny post

X-Raided Brown, second from left, raps inside Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility as Lyle, second from right, reads interludes between songs in 2018. Courtesy of Anerae âX-Raidedâ Brown

“X-Raided” Brown, right, with Lyle Menendez in February 2018. Months later Brown, a convicted murderer, was paroled, for which he credits the brothers.

image source: press

x

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Cheater, Cheater - Prologue

Jake Seresin x Reader Series

Master list | Next chapter | Previous chapter | Tag list

Synopsis: Jake Seresin has been your best friend since elementary school and you are always there for each other. When heartbreak strikes and the aviator is thrown out of commission to heal himself, you have to step up to the plate to help heal a heart you didn't break.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, cursing, fighting, 18+ only please

Best friend, that word didn’t even seem to fit the relationship you had with Jake Seresin anymore. He was essentially the male equivalent of you and had been since you were in first grade. You were one of the fastest girls in your grade at that time and he had decided it would be in his best interest to befriend you. It was a tactical advantage that he wanted in tag, and it ended up working out in his favor. The two of you bonded and slowly became inseparable. Where one was, the other one was not too far behind.

In middle school and high school, as Jake started to get more popular, he made sure you were as well. He made it clear that the two of you were a package deal. It was not always an ideal arrangement and especially in high-school, girls liked to make it known you weren't good enough to hang around Jake. However, every Friday night you were the girl wearing his jersey at the football games and you were the girl who went to the parties with him afterwards. It only added to the suspicion and rumors that the two of you were an item, but you gagged every single time it was brought to your attention. He was like a brother to you, and you knew more about the blonde male than you even knew about yourself.

After the two of you graduated high-school, your close friendship continued into adulthood with the both of you going to the same college and sharing an apartment. It was the two of you and Austin, one of your mutual friends from back home, that lived together. The three of you got along great and it was always fun when they brought girls home. When the girls would come over, you could be seen trying to befriend them; stating that you had too much testosterone in your life and you needed some girl time. The two boys would always share mutual eye rolls that were never serious, because how could they be mad at you? The short answer was that they couldn’t.

Your friendship kept strong through college and graduation, all three of you in your apartment deciding to go off on your own paths. Jake decided to go off to flight school, Austin decided to go into the marines, and you decided to move to San Diego to pursue your career.

The three of you stayed relatively close; especially you and Jake as expected. You kept up with his career as he progressed through flight school and the navy, going with his parents to his graduations and tapping out ceremony. You were so proud of the man he was turning into and he could say the same about the woman you were becoming. You would visit him at his naval stations as allowed, getting to see new parts of the world with your best friend.

It was amazing; especially when he started to get stationed in San Diego and you got to see him more. This was also when he met his current fiancée, Allison, and he fell head over heels in love with her. You had never seen Jake this in love with anyone and you couldn't have been happier for him. You got to know Allison and she was slowly integrated into your dynamic with Jake, the three of you now becoming best friends.

You helped to plan both the bachelor and bachelorette parties as well as the wedding and you could not wait to see all of it come together. This was especially true because it is now the weekend of the bachelor and bachelorette parties and nothing could possibly go wrong. Or so you thought.

Tag list: @fandomxpreferences @shanimallina87 @ssprayberrythings @little-wiseone @mak-32 @cherrycola27 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @praline357 @withakindheartx @luvrrish @caatheeriinee07 @yogabigooby @southsideserendipity @bioodforbiood @trikigirl271 @ginger-gabsq @atarmychick007

[mercury-lurks]

opinions on 17776 :3c

ive never loved football more. anyway you asked for this.

Opinions on story:

I love what Jon Bois did!! So much!!! The concept of humans living forever and just doing FOOTBALL?? INCREDIBLE SHOWSTOPPING I LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT!! Having the main characters be satellites was a move I was not expecting but HOT DAMN did it work!!!

Opinions on characters:

JUICE: MY BOY MY EVER MY THINGY!!! ham and cheese ham and cracker mwah mwah mwah love juice. Love forever.

Nine: poor bby. hold. forever. i wish i could give them infinity battery pleeassseee!!! they need to see Nick and Manny get to San Diego together!!! WHICH IS GOING TO HAPPEN I'M NOT CRAZY (<- IS CRAZY)

Ten: OLDER SISTER EVER!! THE OLDER SISTER EVER!!! I would literally die for her I love Ten I love her Ten my beloved.

Nancy: NANCY YEAHH FUCK YEAH I LOVE NANCY

Hubble: :)

Nick and Manny (must not separate): RHEJFJEJDJDJJFFN FERAL FERAL FERAL FERAL FERAL FERAL FERAL FERAL FERAL FERAL!!!! THE FOOTBALLERS EVER!!! I AM GIVING BOTH OF THEM 10,000 MINUTES OF OBT RN!!! THEY DESERVE TO WIN FOOTBALL!!!

Sharks: I CAN'T REMEMBER HER NAME WHICH IS SO SAD BUT I'M BAD WITH NAMES ANYWAY I LOVE HER

500 Ball Girl: SHE DESERVES BETTER

The Bulb: rip you were gone too soon 😔

Tucker: LMAOOOO

Other Opinions:

I love the format of this so much???? The Google maps/Earth style videos and layouts was so cool???? He did not have to go so hard??? What the fuck???

LOVED that the videos didn't require sound to experience. I LOVE SUBTITLES!!!!

NOOOO FLORIDA IS UNDER WATER POOR NINE 🥺🥺🥺

That Koy Detmer game was so cool fuck that guy for burning those balls tho.

Also I thought it was really cool how when characters are talking about nonspecific people they always use she and her!! Like!!! Wow!!!

Boredom is a 911 call worthy offense lmaooo I mean yeah I get that!!! Truth!!!

SAN DIEGO STATE GOT FUCKED OVER SO HARD BUT THE GAYS ARE TAKING US TO THE FINISH LINE!!!!

That lighthouse hiding spot from UAB??? SHOWSTOPPING INCREDIBLE ETC ETC

What the fuck is up with Illinois chess. What the fuck. I love it but what.

LMAOOO that guy that just walked off the field no hesitation I get you friend you're a real one.

I am literally so upset about Nick and Manny. They will Not be able to get home together for THOUSANDS OF YEARS I'm going to die and scream and suffer painfully please boys I don't care if you never come up in the storyline again just walk off the field and be gay together please please please get the balls to San Diego line and JUST WALK OFF PLEASEEE!!!!!! :(

@eldritchdemonfox pinging you for your thoughts as well

[usnatarchives]

#AllAmericanExhibit Trophy Showcase

The #AllAmericanExhibit at the National Archives, titled "All American: The Power of Sports," is a tribute to the role of sports in American society, highlighting how sports have the power to unite people, teach values, and challenge social barriers.

This exhibit, running through January 7, 2024, showcases over 75 items including original records, artifacts, and photographs across four thematic sections: The Power to Unite, Teach, Break Barriers, and Promote. Among the featured items, visitors can view historic sports trophies like Althea Gibson's 1958 Wimbledon trophy and the 1929 West Point Cavalry (Buffalo Soldiers) Football Championship Trophy, along with many others.

Check out some of our collection:

NCAA Basketball Championship trophies, 2002 and 2006, on display at the National Archives Museum in Washington, DC. Photo by Susana Raab.

FIFA Women's World Cup Trophy, 2019, on display at the National Archives Museum in Washington, DC. Photo by Susana Raab.

The Commissioner’s Trophy

The 1998 World Series trophy is now on display as part of the exhibit All American: The Power of Sports at the National Archives Museum in Washington, DC. The New York Yankees defeated the San Diego Padres in four straight games in that year’s Fall Classic. The trophy, currently on loan from the National Baseball Hall of Fame, will be on display through November 14. The FIFA Women’s World Cup trophy, two NCAA Basketball Championship trophies, and the Lombardi Trophy from Super Bowl LIV have previously been featured in the exhibit. All American will be on view through January 7, 2024, in the Lawrence F. O’Brien Gallery of the National Archives Museum. Admission to the National Archives Museum is always free, and reservations are not required. National Archives photo by Susana Raab.

1984 Los Angeles Olympics Torch

At the White House on May 14, 1984, Kurt Thomas, a former Olympic gymnast, passed the flame from his torch to that held by Charlotte Pearson, a member of the Special Olympics team. The ceremony was part of the 9,000-mile Olympic torch relay through 33 states and the District of Columbia. President Ronald Reagan momentarily held one of the torches while the athletes adjusted the flame of the other. The Los Angeles Olympic Organizing Committee gave this torch to President Reagan after the ceremony.

Read more:

[lboogie1906]

Marlin Oliver “The Magician” Briscoe (September 10, 1945 - June 27, 2022) was a football quarterback for the AFL and NFL. When the Denver Broncos drafted him in 1968, he became the first African American Quarterback in professional football to start on a football team.

He was born in Oakland. His family relocated to Omaha and he attended Omaha South High School, where he played on the football team that won the state championship as a running back. He attended the University of Nebraska, Omaha, and played for the football team, the Mavericks, as a quarterback. The team had a 27-11 record and three conference titles. He graduated in 1967 and entered the 1968 NFL Draft. The Denver Broncos took him in the 14th round.

The Broncos wanted him to play the cornerback position, but he negotiated with the team to compete for the quarterback position. On September 29, 1968, he had his first opportunity as a quarterback during the fourth quarter against the Boston Patriots after starting quarterback Steve Tensi suffered a broken collarbone. His first play was a 22-yard completion leading to an 80-yard touchdown drive. A week later, on October 6, 1968, Briscoe became the first African American starting quarterback in the American Football Conference. He threw 14 touchdowns in 5 starts during the rest of the season.

During the 1969 season, controversy occurred when coach Lou Saban chose Pete Liske over him as the starting quarterback. In protest, He asked to be released from the Broncos and went to the Buffalo Bills, where he played as a wide receiver. He led the team in touchdown catches and made the Pro Bowl in 1970. In 1971, he was traded to the Miami Dolphins, where he led the team to two Super Bowl wins in 1972 and 1973 while still playing wide receiver. He played with the San Diego Chargers, the Detroit Lions, and the New England Patriots, retiring after the 1976 NFL season.

He moved to Los Angeles. He became a municipal bond broker and worked with the Boys and Girls Club in Long Beach. The University of Nebraska Omaha honored him with a statue. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #kappaalphapsi

[gardenergulfie]

I will not be fully whole till I know if Manny and Nick get those 9 footballs back to San Diego State I cannot rest till I know if they made it

[everydayhybridity]

Article from The Conversation on our Chicano Park research.

Urban wellbeing is increasingly tied to what urban planners term “green” and “blue” spaces: the parks and waterfronts that our towns and cities may include. Residents are also encouraged to leave the city altogether, to seek out the healthy calm of forest bathing, fell running or cold water swimming. 

The potential of play within the urban environment, however, is often overlooked.

Skateboarders have long been invested in what I call “grey” space: the overlooked corners, edges and surfaces of the built environment. Skateboard magazines and videos routinely explore the social and architectural histories of sets of stairs and stone benches. 

These spots, largely invisible to the general public, are richly symbolic. In seeing them as ramps and launchpads, skaters transform unremarkable bits of the city into ritual places of magic and wonder.

Recent research conducted with my colleague, Andrea Buchetti, shows that skateparks are sites of unstructured play and community, as well as remembrance and ritual. Otherwise banal and polluted locations are afforded layers of meaning and depth.

Skatepark memorialisation

The Chicano Park skatepark in San Diego is nestled below the imposing, blocky concrete columns of the on-ramps for the city’s Coronado bridge. 

Built in 2015, the skatepark features four vibrant murals (by artists including Ricardo Islas) that draw on both the indigenous heritage of this ancient northern Mexican region and skateboard iconography. In memory of lost friends, local skateboarders build shrines at the foot of the paintings using broken skateboards, rocks, cacti and cut flowers. 

The five-lane highway bridge above it stands 61 metres tall, allowing safe passage for ships bound to the nearby naval base. Completed in 1969, it links downtown San Diego with the smaller city of Coronado across San Diego Bay. 

The space beneath the bridge has long been contested. When built, its route divided a longstanding Mexican American neighbourhood, Barrio Logan, that had already been disrupted by the construction of the Interstate 5 in 1963. Over 5,000 homes and businesses were destroyed in the process.

The state had promised the community a park by way of compensation. But on April 22 1970, Mario Solis, a local student, noticed bulldozers where the park should be, and found out the city was, in fact, constructing a highway patrol base there.

At Solis’s urging, more than 250 residents gathered with shovels and pickaxes to reclaim the land. They planted cacti and trees to create a communal park. After three months of protest, the city conceded to work with the community, and Chicano Park was officially established.

Local artist Salvador Torres was one of the people who lost their homes. In 1973, he galvanised the community into painting murals on the imposing chunks of concrete built in their stead. It was a form of creative resistance. The motifs referenced the cultural heritage of this ancient northern Mexican region, from Aztec symbolism to indigenous plants and beasts, and also Mexico’s colonial experience and revolutionary struggles. 

The park is now a protected historic space and landmark. People gather there for annual celebrations on April 22.

Skateboarding as culture and community

Research has long shown the connection between sport and religion. Fans make pilgrimages to stadiums and worship athletes like gods. 

Just as a football fan might worship at Wembley stadium in London, a specific neighbourhood curb might hold great significance because of a connection to a famous skater or a historic event. I have shown how skateboarding functions as a lifestyle religion. In the way they observe, perform and organise their communal activity, skateboarders derive spiritual expression and identity from both the physical act of skateboarding and the places in which it is conducted.

Some skateparks have dedicated plaques and permanent memorials designed into skateable features. When legendary San Francisco skateboarder and chief-editor of Thrasher magazine, Jake Phelps, died in 2019, a sculptor in Los Angeles made a concrete tombstone feature to install in the Lower Bob’s DIY skatepark in Oakland. He mixed some used dental floss Phelps had left behind into the concrete. “We don’t got his cremated body,” the artist told Thrasher, “but we got pretty much all the DNA we’re gonna need.” 

London’s Skateboard Graveyard on one of the supports of Hungerford Bridge, on the South Bank, is another salient example. For years now, old boards have been thrown down from the Golden Jubilee footbridge in memory of Timothy Baxter, one of two skaters who were attacked and thrown into the river Thames in 1999. 

Baxter died as a result and the juvenile attackers were convicted of manslaughter. Many of the skateboarders who take part in the ritual might not know that this is how it began, yet they persist in offering their broken boards to the site.

RIP epitaphs

In 2023, the skatepark in Sacramento’s Regency Park was renamed in honour of Tyre Nichols, a skateboarder who was beaten to death by police officers in Memphis, Tennessee.

Australian graphic design expert Dan Johnston has identified RIP epitaphs as one of the most common types of skateboarding-related graffiti. He cites messages he has noted on the steel ramps and concrete bumps of skater desinations in Singapore, Paris and south Australia – RIPs and Miss Us scrawled in white correction fluid, marker pen or spray paint. 

Despite skateboarding’s recent ascent to Olympic status, for many skateboarders it is more a culture – or even a cult – than a sport. It brings diverse people together for unsanctioned play, recasting obstacles – an impassable buckled road in Wiltshire, say – as toys and tools.

In their provocative curves and surfaces, skateparks embody this creativity. They mimic the city beyond, showing how the built environment cannot just be conceived of as a framework for economic activity. Grey space – and grey times – can be transformed if communities, and the DIY cultures they give birth to, are allowed to flourish in the city.