#Soft spot for Ukrainian teams

[mariacallous]

CUT DEEP into the innards of the southern front, Ukraine’s first underground hospital feels like something out of a James Bond movie. State-of-the-art gadgetry begins with admissions. Wounded soldiers arrive directly from the battlefield: in cars, ambulances, quad bikes, or whatever else can carry them. They are assessed and colour-coded into modules by urgency: “red zone” cases for immediate operations, “yellow zone” for other treatment. Alongside an operating theatre, enclosed in steel barrels several metres below ground level, is an intensive care unit. There is a ventilator, and even a laboratory for blood tests. The centre is set up for sophisticated operations: bone repair, soft tissue reconstruction, and even arterial bypass surgery.

In military jargon, this is a “role 2” facility, the second of four treatment tiers from frontline triage to tertiary hospital care. Doctors move people on if they can. Those stable enough are whisked off to “role 3” facilities, approximately 30km away. The rest are treated and stabilised here, a little over 10km from the contact line. The hospital’s immaculately joined wooden beams—chosen over concrete to soften shrapnel in the event of a Russian strike—project a deceptive warmth, like being in a Scandinavian sauna. The drones and glide-bombs that terrorise the skies outside make clear that this is not a place to relax. Ukraine’s medics are here, underground, not by choice. Like the soldiers they treat, they are among the hunted.

Evhen, the underground hospital’s chief medical officer, grunts at any suggestion that Russia might follow the Geneva conventions, which forbid targeting medical units. “They don’t even know what it means,” he says. To the Russian military, doctors are “force multipliers”—they patch up soldiers and send them back to fight, take a long time to train and are hard to replace. Ukraine now tells its medics to remove any markings that might set them apart. “If you put a red cross on a car, you’ll be fired on within 15 minutes.” The goal is still to get wounded soldiers from the frontline to a role 2 treatment unit within an hour, but drones drag out the process, often for hours. The delays often mean life or death; limb or no limb. Leave a tourniquet on for more than a few hours, and tissue damage is irreversible.

Ukraine believes survival on the battlefield is the key to regaining the edge in a war that has become largely attritional. The underground hospitals are a key part of the puzzle, says Roman Kuziv, the 35-year-old doctor who helped design them. A technocratic planner with experience of working as a surgeon in Europe, Dr Kuziv has quickly risen through the Ukrainian ranks: from local hospital chief to medical commander of the entire eastern and southern front. He lets data guide him to new standards and protocols. War pulses through the monitors in front of him. He claims the medical data give him ���80% of the picture” about what is happening on the battlefront. Where units are well organised and where they are not. Where morale is good and where it is not. He makes a call to commanders whenever he spots a problem.

Swiping through images on his smartphone—a surreal blend of family photos and flesh wounds—Dr Kuziv reveals the brutal injuries and hard choices his teams face daily. He pulls up a photo of a man with a gaping hole in his upper body, alongside a kidney sliced in two, and a 30cm slab of missile metal that had been lodged deep in his midriff. “Did the man make it?” Remarkably, yes, he did. Another soldier, this time with a deep gash across his back, part of his spine missing, internal organs spilling out. That soldier survived initial surgery in the underground hospital, but died two days later. A third clip shows a soldier in his 30s, convulsing violently as he tries to drink a cup of water. What was up here? “Hydrophobia,” the commander says. “An extreme aversion to water.” In short, the soldier had rabies, caused by a single bite from a cat, and it was too late to save him. The army saw a handful of such cases before culling wild animals in the area.

Almost three years of war have brought Ukraine’s army doctors a mountain of unexpected challenges. Drones have largely rewritten the rulebook on battlefield wounds: the numbers are rocketing, and the attacks are more persistent, more targeted. The “golden hour”—NATO doctrine for evacuating a soldier to proper care within 60 minutes—has become something closer to fiction. Chemical weapons have returned to the field, too, with the re-appearance of agents like chloropicrin, a poison gas first seen in the trenches of the first world war. The gas, used to flush out Ukrainians from their trenches and foxholes, attacks the soft tissues of the respiratory system. At higher doses, it kills.

The demands have seen Ukrainian military medicine develop in quick time. Today’s setup is unrecognisable from seven years ago, when Dr Kuziv first began working with the army. The commander regularly tracks Russian social media to gauge how well he is doing. He’s usually happy with the comparison with Russian front-line medicine. “It’s the second world war over there.” But the demands and need to stay ahead are relentless. The ministry of defence has just approved another 20 of his “role 2” underground hospitals, which are being co-financed by an industrial sponsor. The commander is also working on an overhaul of “role 1” facilities, front-line triage units. According to his futuristic vision, these will be accessible underground by a system of mechanical elevators.

There have been mistakes, thousands who could have been saved. But Russia’s war without limits would test the resources of any military medical service, Dr Kuziv insists. “All-out war gives you one or two months to study and adapt.” NATO countries should be thinking about how they would cope, he says. “Honestly, they are not prepared. They wouldn’t know what’s hit them.”

[official-weasley]

The Extraordinary Dragon (Part 1/6)

After about a century of me being gone and not writing a new story, I am back with a mini-series! 💙

I didn't have a good idea for a new OC so I decided to write a cute and fluffy story about Charlie training a dragon with a sad and mysterious past.

I would like to thank @am-i-space @madelineorionswan & @the-al-chemist for giving me ideas for the names of the dragons mentioned in the story. You are the best 💙 Since some of the dragons are mentioned in the later chapters I will make sure to include which dragons you named in the Masterlist for the story 💙

If you'd like to be tagged in every part the dragon with your name is mentioned please tell me and I will gladly do so 🤗

Warnings: Charlie being excited and obsessed with dragons.

Word count: 2,869

A dragon's roar awakened me. It might sound terrifying to some, but it is a pure melody for my ears. I have been working in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary for almost 10 years now. Come to think of it tomorrow's the anniversary.

My co-workers constantly tease me, telling me that I'm a workaholic. I always disagree with them. I just love dragons and working with them. Am I a bit obsessed with the creatures? Maybe. But who wouldn't be so excited about having their dream job?

There is something so soothing working with a beast that can swallow you whole, yet if you have the right energy and you treat them right they can be more obedient than a Crup.

When I first got the job I worked with a team of researchers. Since I have never seen a dragon in real life before starting working, my boss Matthew wanted me to learn about their behavior and study them to be better prepared to do other things.

They all thought I will be bored out of my mind – because I applied for the care of dragons position and not researching – but I loved every second of it. All I had to do was wake up every morning and go to the assigned habitat and observe the dragon there and take notes. It's like reading a book about the creatures – something I did almost every day of my 7 years at Hogwarts – but you get to be around them every single day.

My mother thinks I am insane for wanting to be around such dangerous creatures and I had to promise her before I left for Romania that I will write home every day otherwise she is coming to get me at once. I guess she needs to know daily that I wasn't eaten by a dragon. The thing is that being hurt by a dragon is less likely than falling off a broom, so I don't know what she is so worried about.

The only one of my family members that knows about all my injuries and all my scars is my big brother Bill. He understands that I don't mind getting hurt and he doesn't get a heart attack every time I end up in the infirmary. It's nice to talk to someone about these things outside my workspace. Even though being a Curse Breaker isn't the safest job in the world, Bill's number of scars can't even compare to mine.

We do have protective gear and gloves but sometimes the dragon's fire and teeth are just too strong. We are lucky that we have wonderful healers that take care of us and we have remedies that heal burns within minutes so it's mostly just an annoyance.

The year after my training I worked only with Common Welsh Greens. The year after that I tamed two Antipodean Opaleyes and it was the best feeling to see them get excited and welcome me with a friendly roar every morning. Even though they were both adults it felt like dealing with two kids and it was so much fun. The latter are such sweethearts and I even taught one how to roll over. They are like dogs but bigger, way bigger.

After that, I tried to convince my boss to let me work with a more dangerous breed. It's not that I didn't like what I did but I like a challenge. I needed 2 months to convince him to let me work with 2 Chinese Fireballs and by the smirk on his face I knew I was in for a treat. They were brought to our reserve so they could breed but no matter how much others tried nobody succeeded at mating them.

When Matthew finally gave in – not seeing any harm in letting me try before they send them back – I remember I danced around my hut for a solid half an hour being so excited to work with them the next day.

I was surprised that nobody thought of the strategy I choose. It was true that they brought the dragons to us together but they didn't know each other and since nobody thought of trying to acquaint them first, I gave it a go.

After 3 days they were best mates and I gave them 4 more days to fully feel comfortable with each other before taking them to the mating habitat. I am more than proud to say that since then they have been parents 2 times. I did some great things since I started working in the Sanctuary but you never forget your first big achievement.

Due to Matthew being absolutely in awe of me succeeding after a week he allowed me to work with a bunch of Swedish Short-Snouts even though usually only a dragonologist with 5+ years of experience can work with them alone.

I was amused when I saw the faces of some of my older co-workers when they found out – thinking they were going to get the job. I love working with them even though they are the ones responsible for most of my scars. Just after the first day, one burned my entire forearm and everyone thought I was going to back off because of it but it only made me want to work with them more.

Now, after almost 10 years I have worked with every single breed of dragon except my favorite – the Hebridean Black. They are one of the most dangerous and stubborn kind and only a dragonologist with a lot of experience gets to work with them.

I got the glimpse of one when I was working with the research team but no matter how sneaky I tried to be, Matthew wouldn't let me get anywhere close to them. I even got a chance to work with a team that took care of a sick Norwegian Ridgeback even though they are considered to be the most dangerous.

A year ago I got a chance to be part of an exchange program at the Swedish Dragon Reserve and I worked with a Peruvian Vipertooth and a Ukrainian Ironbelly. My boss wasn't happy about the latter one as he reckoned I was too inexperienced to be around and try to tame the largest breed of dragons but as you can probably tell from what I told you so far, I was over the roof about it!

The Ironbelly might be the largest but they are among the least vicious ones – none of my co-workers would agree with me as most of them are terrified of them but I think they are adorable thinking since they are the biggest they are also the scariest. It's the same as with dogs – sometimes the smaller ones are more dangerous.

I got out of bed with a grin on my face. Even though I don't like to admit it I like reminiscing on my biggest achievements.

I made myself some breakfast – eggs and bacon as usual – while blasting music on my wireless. Nothing like singing while cooking and reading the letters my family sent me.

Mum and dad were going to visit George and Ron for the weekend. Bill and Fleur decided to repaint their living room. Ginny invited me to one of her games next week and Percy got another promotion.

I walked to the wall where I had a calendar hanging to mark the date of Ginny's game. It was the perfect event to meet with most of my family members and I love supporting her. I am proud of all my siblings' achievements but Ginny being the only girl among 6 boys made us all have a soft spot for her - even Percy, even though he would probably deny it if someone asked him about it.

Since I was working with three different dragons at the moment – Peruvian Vipertooth named Hel and two Romanian Longhorns Lasair and Rocker – I double-checked my schedule to see which one I am supposed to visit today. As I thought, it was Lasair. I know my schedule by heart but always check it twice– I don't want any dragon to be jealous thinking one is getting more attention from me.

My routine with the dragons was simple. First, they get their breakfast which is usually a piece of their favorite meat, except if it's our Common Welsh Green Crystal – she is the only dragon I have ever met that is a vegetarian and she mostly doesn't want to eat anything else than apples. It took us the longest time to figure out why she doesn't want to eat – vomiting out all the meat we gave her – until we moved her to an habitant with a pumpkin patch and them mysteriously disappearing overnight.

After the feeding, I like to play with them. That usually includes large balls or levitating rocks after which they can jump and run. Then it's my favorite part of the day – the flying lessons. We transport them to the part of the reserve that is built like a large stadium in the middle of the forest surrounded by mountains and it has 10 obstacles that the dragons have to learn to overcome so they are cleared for free-flying sessions.

After flying it's time for a brief pause to get the dragon back to its habitat and calm it down before giving it dinner and tucking it in.

Flying is the most fun thing we can do at our job. When Matthew told me that I am finally allowed to fly with them, I had to excuse myself and go to the bathroom because I felt like crying my eyes out. I wanted to fly on a dragon ever since I was a kid and even though I heard rumors about training them in that way, I always thought it was too good to be true.

The first time I flew on a dragon was with a dragonologist named Jim. He showed me how to properly prepare the dragon to be in the mood to have a person on its back and how to lift off and then safely land. Vulcan the Opaleye was just the loveliest when I trained with him to trust me to the point that he would allow me to fly. Even though my dream is to one day fly on a Hebridean Black, I wouldn't change my first flight for anything in the world.

Vulcan was more than obedient and so careful to make me feel comfortable and constantly made sure I was still on his back. He flew in a straight line and at an even pace making me feel so safe that I let go of his shiny scales and lifted my hands in the air. I wanted to shout from all the adrenaline and excitement that ran through me but I didn't want to startle the dragon.

It's safe to say that I didn't sleep at all that night. The second I laid in my bed I felt as if I was still in the air with Vulcan and I couldn't help but wish to do that every day.

"Good morning, Lasair. What do you want to eat this morning? Boar, deer, moose perhaps?"Lasair lifted her head sleepily at me. I teased her with the options, knowing full well that moose was her favorite. If she could speak she would ask me if I can't remember her favorite meal.

"Don't worry, you'll get what you want." I winked at her and put on my gloves before taking out my wand and levitating the big chunk of meat to her.

Lasair was one of the rare dragons that ate her food slowly, so I loved to sit down next to her and watched her chew. If Matthew saw me, he would probably murder me for sitting so close to a dragon but he doesn't know that Lasair and I have an agreement of her keeping me alive and I give her some extra meat for dinner in return.

"So, Lassy, I have some bad news." I cleared my throat as the dragon stopped chewing and tilted her head toward me. "We have to sharpen your claws today."

Lasair groaned and went back to her breakfast.

"I know, I know. Not your favorite thing to do. Trust me if it was up to me, we would rather do something more fun like play with your favorite tire or play fetch with your ball. But the boss said it was time."

Lasair didn't react to my words but laid on the ground once she finished her meal and wrapped her tail around me.

"You know that cuddling and being cute won't work on me." I chuckled. "Not this time, at least."

The dragon's nostrils started to smoke and I knew she was trying to negotiate.

"Between you and me," I whispered, "I'll throw in another piece of meat if you'll be a good girl like last time. How about some boar for dessert, huh?"

Lasair let out a gentle roar, giving me a sign that she agrees with my terms.

"That's my girl. I knew we'll find a common ground." I grinned at her and got up so we could start our day.

"Okay, Lassy. I will need you to step on this mat and do the burying motion. As if you were burying the bones of a deer." I explained when Lasair looked at the mat in confusion.

I mimicked the gesture and she copied it and walked to the mat with grace as if she was a princess.

"There you go! I am so proud of you, Lasair. You really want that extra piece of meat, huh?" I laughed to myself.

"So that is how you get all dragons to behave as if they're Crups?" I turned toward the voice and saw Matthew's amused face, observing my work with the Romanian Longhorn.

"You were never meant to find out," I said in a dramatic voice.

"Oh, it's fine." Matthew swung his hand. "You'll need all the skills."

"What do you mean?" I furrowed my brows at him as I stepped to Lasair to show her to step a bit forward so she could sharpen the claws on her back paws as well.

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" Matthew asked, observing my every move.

"No." I lied. I knew that tomorrow will be 10 years since I work in the reserve but I didn't want to boast about it.

"Come on, Charles. I know that you out of everyone here you’re the one who counts how long you are working here for." He smirked at me.

I couldn't believe it. He remembered that it's my 10th anniversary? I couldn't help but grin.

"What about it?" I tried acting casually.

"Well, the team was thinking about what to get you as a present..."

"Matt, you don't have to get me anything. You know I am just happy being surrounded by dragons." I smiled appreciatively.

"Well, how about you get surrounded by a new dragon?" He winked at me.

"What are you on about?" I narrowed my eyes at him. I was getting impatient, the excitement in me growing.

"We are getting a one-year-old Hebridean Black in a week from the MacFusty’s." Matthew started to explain. "And since you are so good at taming and being best mates with the three you’re taming now, I was thinking of assigning it to you."

"Did...did you just say a Hebridean Black?" I said in a voice that was barely a whisper. I couldn't believe what just came out of his mouth. He was going to let me work with my favorite breed?

"You heard correctly, Charles." Matthew's smirk was growing larger.

"But...but I don't have enough experience, you said so yourself. You...you should give the job to someone worthy, to someone who will know how to handle the breed." I knew that I should've just shut up and thank him for the opportunity. Working with a Hebridean Black has been my goal ever since I can remember, but I have to keep my head clear and think of what's best for the dragon.

"Thinking like this is exactly why I am giving the job to you even though I told you the last time you begged me that you need at least 7 more years before you can work with them." Something in his eyes shifted. He had the exact expression on his face as he did when he assigned me to breed those two Fireballs.

"You are up to something. What's wrong with the dragon?" I pursed my lips at him.

"Oh, the dragon is just fine. Lovely, actually. I bet you two will have a lot of fun." The sarcastic tone in his voice told me that he was hiding something from me but I didn't dare to ask him about it.

He deemed me ready to work with a Hebridean Black. To work with my favorite breed. I am not about to jeopardize that if he thinks I am the one for the job. In a week my biggest dream will come true and there was nothing in the world that could ruin that.

[lilxberry]

You Owe Me 20 Bucks - Steve Rogers

Synopsis;

Steve just simply wants to protect you, you find it extremely annoying how his plans to protect you get in the way of you doing your job as an Avenger, and Bucky and Sam have a running bet.

Warnings: A lil bit of language. Arguing. Mentions of violence. Mentions of betting. Wack ass stuff man. Fluff.

Words: 2,030

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader 

_______________

You walked into the meeting room, ready to be briefed by Fury for the next mission. This would be your first assignment in 2 months since your injury. Ever since you had woken up, everyone had babied you, especially a certain super soldier, which ticked you off to no end.

You took your place in-between Wanda and Bucky and prepared yourself for the droning voice of Fury and the nagging of Steve. “Hey, you good?”

You inwardly groaned at Bucky’s question. It was nice that the team cared so much but it was a bitch to deal with all their incessant babying and over protectiveness. “I’m fine, Buck, really.”

As if he could sense your irritation, he retreated and opted to leave you be. You signed in relief and sunk back into your chair. Just as you had gotten comfortable, Fury entered, followed by Maria then Mr. Patriarchy himself. “Avengers.” Fury simply greeted to grab everyone’s attention.

And so, the briefing had commenced and passed by, the only thing left on the check list was to discuss who will be part taking in the mission. “A team of 6 will be going in, the others will stay behind and only move out when needed. Stark, Barnes, Barton, Maximoff, Y/L/N, you 5 will be joining Rogers at the base.”

Before any body got the chance to voice their readiness, Steve had spoken up. “Y/L/N isn’t ready.”

You saw red as he had easily diminished your ability to be out in the field. “Like fuck I’m not ready.” You quickly stood from your seat so fast, the chair had scrapped against the floor before falling over harshly.

“If I say you’re not ready then you’re not ready.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, standing his ground. Thing is, you were stubborn, every Avenger and agent knew that about you.

You walked towards in quick, long strides and stared him down, inches from his face. “It’s my body, I know when it’s damn ready.” You stepped back and looked towards Fury. “So, when we due to head out?”

“In an hour.”

“Great, see you guys at the jet.” You quickly turned on your heel and headed towards your room, ignoring the calls of your peers.

“I guess that’s all. Dismissed.” Fury disbanded the meeting, sending the remaining Avengers to prepare for their mission or go back to lazing around, ready to be called out as back up. Steve sighed heavily through his nose as her closed his eyes and pinched the bridge between his pointer finger and thumb.

As Bucky passed his best friend, he patted his shoulder and flashed him a tight-lipped smile, sympathising with his friend. This is gonne be one long mission.

_______________

The time came for the team to meet at the jet. You stepped on to the platform and headed over to the jet to meet with the others. Just as you placed one foot on to the flying metal contraption, the blonde of the 40’s due spoke. “I said you’re not ready.”

You rolled your eyes and chose to ignore his complaints. Ensuring your gear that you’re decked out in is securely strapped on, you made haste towards a free seat at the back off the jet, unfortunately getting blocked off by Steves’ broad and muscular form. You huffed and quickly side stepped him, proceeding to sit.

“No matter how much you nag, they’re still gonna tag along, dude. May as well give up before you’re driven mad.” Clint commented, eliciting a soft giggle from Wanda and a snicker from Tony, both trying desperately to cover their amusement up in any way available to them.

“He has a point. Maybe instead of butting heads, you could help her through this mission.” Bucky spoke directly to his friend.

“Or they could actually listen and not go.” Steve narrowed his eyes towards your ignorant and slouched form, folding his arms across his chest. Tony rolled his eyes before making his way through the jet to pilot it.

“Okay losers, can we all quieten down now. Daddy’s got a jet to fly.” And with that, Tony had the jet off the platform and heading to your destination. Steve huffed and sat opposite you next to Bucky. He stared you down whilst you continuously ignored him through the whole flight.

_______________

“What the hell, Steve?! I had it handled!” You yelled at your fellow Avenger as you all boarded the jet, ready to head back to the compound.

“Didn’t look like it!” Steve had replied, matching your volume.

You scoffed and threw your arms up into the arm in exasperation. “You have a seriously fucked up hero complex, you know that?!”

The yelling match continued between you both throughout most of the flight. By this point, the others within the small confides of the jet had pounding migraines and are in need of about 20 Advils each.

As soon as the jet landed back within the grounds of the compound, you both stormed out of the jet, heading to your separate rooms, both slamming them shut as loudly as possible, hoping the other would hear and convey how pissed you were.

“Ah, young love.” Tony quipped as his suit disassembled from around his form.

_______________

It had been a full week of you ignoring Steve. He had tried previously throughout the week, but you blanked him, simply as if he hadn’t existed. He knew he seriously messed up the second enemy after enemy headed towards you. He knew you could have easily defended yourself and have taken them out even easier but, you were right. He does have a fucked up hero complex.

But mostly, he always felt the need to protect you. Falling in love with a completely independent and able Avenger is a tough gig. Apparently.

Steve had had enough and decided he was going to talk to you, whether you wanted to or not. He marched with determination straight to your room and knocked brashly. He heard you groan from the opposite side of the door before the light patter of your feet pad along the floor. You swung the door open widely with a look of annoyance across your face, but it had quickly faltered as you tried to close the door just as hastily. He jammed his foot between the door and its frame.

“Leave me alone Steve.” He could easily detect the irritation and impatience within your voice. He pushed the rest of the way into your room and you groaned loudly once again. “You clearly don’t understand English, should I try Spanish? German? Ukrainian? Mandarin?”

“Okay, I get it, you’re pissed and you don’t want to see me. Well tough shit.” He stepped closer to you as you stood your ground. “We need to talk whether you like it or not.”

“Oh yeah? And what do we need to talk about exactly?”

Steve inhaled deeply before continuing. “About how you’re acting. You can’t act like a stroppy teenager whenever someone gives you a helping hand during a mission.”

You scoff, unbelieving of what he is saying. “That wasn’t a ‘helping hand’, that was undermining myself as an abled agent and my abilities to handle the enemy. That wasn’t a ‘helping hand’, that was throwing me to the side while you did all the work.” Your shoulders heaved up and down as your breathing became heavier the more anger filled you.

“Jesus Christ Y/N, I was trying to help! I led the mission that day and it’s my responsibility if any of you screw up. All I did was ensure none of you did.” Steves’ voice raised to match yours.

“NO! You ensured I didn’t screw up because “I’M NOT READY!”” At some point you had started to pace around the room in an attempt to calm you.

Steve ran his hand down his face as he groaned loudly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, willing himself to calm himself down also. “I just care about you Y/N/N. Please, why can’t you just understand that.”

“Well, you should go care about someone else. I didn’t see you hounding Starks’ ass about being careful.”

“Jesus H Christ, I’m in love with you, alright?!” Steve had exclaimed loudly in exasperation. You froze on the spot and slowly turned, shock evident across your face.

“Wha-what?” You stuttered out in a quiet whisper. Steve registered what had just slipped passed his lips and opened and closed his mouth, attempting to come up with some form of excuse for what he had said. “What did you just say Steve?” You spoke, your voice raised, pronunciation clear.

Steve sighed and looked down before tilting his head in the slightest to gaze into your eyes as he spoke sheepishly. “I said I’m in love with you, I love you.” He searched your face for the slightest inkling of reciprocation in the mix of a million emotions displayed across it. It had been a good minute or so of silence as you comprehended what he had just told you. He began to feel self-conscious and paranoia presented itself within him deeply. “Please say something.” He pleaded, his voice quiet.

This seemed to have snapped you out of whatever trance had engulfed you and you swallowed thickly as you looked up at him with wide eyes. You willed yourself to be brave as if you were back out in the field. You charged forward and crashed your lips to his, the move bolder than what you were used to doing.

You grasp on to him tightly, afraid he would pull away, although, you knew that was not going to be the case for he instantaneously reciprocated the intimate action with as much gusto and desperation. His larger hands came to hold on to your hips, knuckles turning white from how tightly his hands balled up your shirt.

Sooner than you had liked, you both parted and laid your foreheads against the others as you panted, desperate for any intake of oxygen. “I love you too, Steve.” You whispered breathlessly, looking up into his beautiful, blue orbs. They had even seemed to have an extra shine in this moment as you gazed deeply into them.

He smiled a huffed out a small chuckle, his thumb rubbing up and down against your side in a soothing and loving manner. “God, you drive me crazy.”

You both continued to stand there for what felt like hours when in actuality, was only a minute or so. Suddenly, a loud knock at the door echoed throughout the room before opening and revealing Sam and Bucky on the other side. “Hey, you guys comin-oh, damn, our bad. We’ll uh, leave you to it.” And with that, Sam quickly turned and shoved Bucky out along with him as he closed the door behind them.

“I think you owe me 20 bucks.” You heard Bucky’s voice through the door which had muffled the sound slightly.

“Man, I was sure they’d go another week before one of ‘em confessed.” You heard Sam whine as you presumed while he fished out the bills from his pocket to hand over to his apparent betting partner.

Their interaction had caused both you and Steve let out a small bout of laugh before turning your attention back towards one another. “I guess we should head down for food, huh?” Steve suggested whilst he had a boyish grin etched upon his face.

All you could do was mirror his smile and release a near inaudible ‘yes’ as you nod and step back, taking his larger hand into one of your own. He quickly pulled you towards him to lay a final pure, sweet, gentle kiss upon your plump lips. “Let’s go.”

He led you out of your room and towards the elevator, ready to join the others for food. As you stood in the elevator, you felt Steves’ gaze on you. You turned you head and sent him a wolfish smirk. “Bet you 20 bucks that they told everyone.”

Steve threw his head back in laughter as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and brought you closer into his side. “You’re on.”

_______________

Those pants are nice, yeah, just the pants, definitely just the pants I’m admiring, nothing else... *definitely is looking square at his ass* ...yeah man, nice pants...

_______________

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I did a Steve fic, noice

I’ve been super sucky with fics recently but I mean, college stuff, losing family, this, plus messing my knee up badly yesterday after accidently yeeting myself down some stairs, it be like that 

I really hope you enjoy this

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[floatingpetals]

One Last Call || Maybe Not

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Angst, language, eventual fluff

Word Count: 2400+

Summary: A mission had gone horribly wrong. She knew things were grim, and she had something she desperately needed to get off her chest. All she needed was one last call.

A/N: HA YA’LL THOUGHT I WAS GONNA LEAVE IT LIKE THAT?! HAAAAAA!! APRIL FOOLLSS!!! But seriously, I couldn’t leave that story off the way it did. It just hurt too much. I’m not gonna give much more away, so I hope you enjoyy!! 

Gifs not mine, credit to the creator!

Natasha was there the second the phone slipped from Steve’s fingers. She knew how important Y/N was in his life, how quickly he had grown to care for the woman. It was heartbreaking to watch; he was just forced to listen to her dying breath and there was nothing he could do about it.

Tony let out a heavy sigh, biting back his own set of tears. His gaze swept around the rest of the team, seeing similar reactions on the rest of the team. They fought back their own tears, the air was thick and somber. With heavy steps, he walked over to the discarded phone on the floor and picked it up. He paused when he heard shouting from the other end. The line must not have dropped. Raising the phone to his ear, he winced after a loud shout and snapped back.

“Hey-What’s going on?”

The officer on the other end let out a string of words in Ukrainian before letting out a sigh of relief.

“Добре. Ти все ще там.”

“Yup. Gotta speak English.” Tony said flatly. He figured they’d need to discuss where to pick up Y/N’s body, no doubt they’d have to take her to a corner before they could get her back to them. To bring her home one last time. The words the officer spoke next made Tony’s heart burst with hope.

“She’s still breathing.”

Sinking back into his seat, Tony let out the breath he was holding. Voice shaking he asked the man to repeat himself.

“The woman. We were able to get her breathing.” The officer said. He could hear the sirens pulling away in the distance, the officer closing his car door. “She’s in critical condition, but she is alive. For now.”

“Oh-That’s-“ Tony was at a loss for words, fresh tears now streaming down his face. Only this time they weren’t for sorrow. “What hospital are you taking her to?”

“A local hospital. They need to do surgery. There’s still a bullet in her side-.”

“Yes. Get her in and get it out. Do not let her code on us again.” Tony said firmly, spinning around in his seat to go at the controls. He kicked the jet into overdrive, pushing it to its limits.

Behind him, the rest of the team listened in shock. Steve’s sobs had stopped, his eyes wide as Tony explained that they were a few hours away. He glanced at Bucky, whose eyes were just as bloodshot as his. Was this a joke, or was Y/N still alive?

“I’ll send you the coordinates to our landing site. We’ll need transportation to the hospital. You can? Great.” Tony flipped off his tears and switched into the leading role. Y/N meant a lot to him as well, but someone needed to step in until Steve could recollect his emotions. Tony understood, he was the same and is the same when it comes to Pepper. “What’s your number? I’ll text you from my phone when we’re close and you can keep us updated.”

Natasha passed Steve a tissue, a happy smile spreading on her face. This was good. Y/N was still alive. Barely, but she was alive.

“Talk to you later.” Tony hung up the phone and spun around to address everyone. “We have great news and bad news. Good news, Y/N might have coded before they arrived but by some miracle, they were able to bring her back. Bad news; she’s hanging by a thread, needs surgery and we’re still five hours out.  Petro, the cop who answered her phone, says she’s got a bullet they need to get out and is suffering from significant blood loss and definitely has internal damage. She’s probably going to just get out of surgery by the time we get there if the damage is as extensive as they thought.”

“But she’s alive?” Natasha asked, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Tony smiled, although grimly, and nodded.

“She’s a fighter apparently.”

Steve stared down at his hands on his lap and gave a watery chuckle.

“That’s my girl.”

~~~~

True to Tony’s word, six hours later the jet landed in a field just outside of the village Y/N was sent to. Right where he said he would be, was Office Petro and four squad cars. He shook hands with Tony and directed them to pile in the cars. Steve joined Tony with Petro, eager to learn about Y/N’s status.

“She just got of surgery,” The bigger man said in his heavy accent. His voice was rough but gentle. He understood their concern for the woman he thought too was dead. She would have been another unfortunate statistic to the death of drug crimes around the area. “If you don’t mind me asking, why was she in the area we found her. You say she is an agent?”

“Yes,” Steve replied. “She was supposed to be tailing some of the drug dealers around this area. They’re small, but the demands for the drugs they supply is quickly growing. It’s a mix of molly and Adderall that a lot of younger teens seem to prefer.”  

“Ah, yes. They have quickly become a problem around here. But how would they know they were being watched by anyone, let alone a single woman?”

That caused Steve and Tony to pause. Petro was right. How else would they have known about Y/N? The gang wasn’t known for its use of guns and violence as of yet. They both shared a look, fury starting to build in their chests. Someone tipped them off.

“Anyways. The last thing they told me was she’s in ICU. She coded once on the table, but they were able to bring back once more.” Petro sounded impressed. “I don’t know what you give her to eat, but she wasn’t ready to leave just yet.”

Tony grimaced a part of him proud of Y/N but worried she wasn’t going to make it through the night.

“She’s a stubborn one, that’s for sure.” He clapped a hand on Petro’s shoulder. Petro pulled up to the front entrance of the hospital, throwing the car in park. Steve was out of the car before it stopped, desperate to see Y/N, to make sure she was still breathing.  

The nurse at the front desk had seen a lot of things in her days. Bullet wounds, people with limbs handing on by a thread, even people with screwdrivers embedded in their thighs. Looking up to see The Captain America, Ironman and party rush up to the desk looking like they were ready to tear the walls down was a different level of terror she experienced that day.

“There’s a woman, Y/N Y/L/N. She was brought in a few hours ago for a bullet wound and just came out of surgery.” Steve demanded, leaning over the desk. The nurses’ mouth fell open, her wide eyes darting frantically between the Avengers that loomed over her desk. She shook her head, unable to understand English. Petro tutted and pushed the overbearing Captain aside.

“She doesn’t speak English.” He explained and then turned to the woman. He explained quickly, asking for the room number Y/N was in. Relief washed over the woman, nodding quickly and leaned over the desk to point down the hall as she spoke. Petro turned to the Avengers. “She’s on the third floor, room 308. I’ll come so you don’t scare the other nurses.”

Steve bit back a snarl but nodded. He needed to get to Y/N, not get thrown out for terrorizing the natives. He followed a step behind Petro anxiously. The ride up was excruciating, and the walk to her room was terrifying. Petro stopped him at the door, waving to a sink.

“They want you to wash before you go in and only one at a time.”

“You go ahead.” Tony patted Steve on the shoulder. Steve stay rooted to the spot, staring blankly at the door in front of him. “Go on Cap. The team and I have things we have to take care of. Go see your girl.”

As he walked over to the sink, the reality of what happened and what he was about to step in to hit him. His stomach felt like someone filled it with lead, and his legs struggled to hold up his weight. He was terrified. He already thought he lost her once, just seconds after admitting how much she meant to him. She was nowhere near out of the clear. The second he’d open that door, it meant this was all real. It wasn’t some twisted nightmare he was forced to live through.

Nothing in his line of work could have ever compared to slowly opening the door and seeing Y/N hooked up to all machines. The door shut softly behind him, the click releasing the silent tears he held back. She looked so frail, her skin a sickly shade lighter than her usual tone. His heat shattered in his chest. He moved to stand beside her, afraid if he took her hand in his he’d hurt her further.

Letting out a heavy breath, Steve pulled the chair closer to her beside and delicately reached out to take her hand in his. Her skin was clammy and cold, but he could feel her faint heartbeat. It was enough to soothe his fears for now, even though he knew she still had a long recovery ahead of her. Pressing a kiss against the balk of her hand, he settled in beside her for the long wait for her to wake.

~~~~

The door popped open, startling Steve awake. He blinked, blearily looking for the newcomer. Bucky walked in with a fast food bag in one hand, and a giant drink in the other.

“Hey.” He greeted, passing the food over to his friend and sat in one of the large armchairs. Steve mumbled thanks and turned his eyes back to Y/N. They had taken her out of ICU three days ago, her body healed enough that she didn’t need to be on constant care. She, however, had yet to wake up. The doctors assured the team it wasn’t a bad thing, she went through extensive trauma and her body would wake on its own. Now in a new room, Tony made sure she got the best treatment he could get her. After two weeks sitting on the painful plastic chairs, Steve was grateful for the soft chairs in the nicer room.

“How’s she doin’?” Bucky asked, his eyes growing sad looking over her prone body.

“Same as yesterday,” Steve replied solemnly. Bucky grunted and reached in his pocket, pulling out a phone. He passed it over to Steve.

“Tony fixed it for you. Also wanted to let you know we found the assholes who did this. Natasha made sure the rest that went into hiding wouldn’t ever come back.” Bucky said with a hint of pride. Steve felt the corners of his lips turn up in a smirk. “Doesn’t mean they’ll stay there long. Natasha and Wanda both took this to a whole other level.”

“Good,” Steve stated, digging the food out from the bag. Bucky smirked.

“Tony threw a fit when he couldn’t get us the suite in the only hotel here in town. So, they set us up in the honeymoon suite.” Bucky muffled a groan and rolled his head to look at Steve. “It’s been an interesting few weeks. You ever gonna come up to the room?”

Steve shook his head, chewing on a bite from the burger. The room had a shower, and he had Natasha bring him a change of clothes and deodorant. The only time he left was when he went to get coffee or food from the cafeteria. The nurses and doctors stopped trying to push him out after visiting hours, instead opting to just ask him to stay in the room with Y/N. Not that he ever had plans on leaving her side for too long.

“Come on man.” Bucky started up. “You can’t stay here the whole time. You need to sleep. In a bed. And not curled up on a half stuff ottoman in a hospital.”

“I hear what you're saying, but no Buck. I can’t leave her.” Steve said firmly. “I wasn’t there for her when she needed me, but I’m going to be here for her when she wakes up.”

Bucky fell quiet, observing Steve for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Alright. But when she wakes up and bitches you out for not taking care of yourself, give me a heads up. I want to get a seat and popcorn for that show.”

“You’re hilarious,” Steve stated dryly. Bucky flashed him a toothy grin and swung a leg over the arm of his chair.

“That’s why you keep me around.”

“Punk.”

“Dick.”

“Hey now. That's rude.”

The two froze, their eyes going wide at the scratchy feminine voice that entered the fray. Their heads snapped towards the bed, both their eyes growing wide in shock. Steve moved first, vaulting off the chair to rush to Y/N’s side. He grabbed her hand while Bucky shot off outside to grab a nurse, giving the two a moment before the doctors would come rushing in.

“Shit, sweetheart.” Steve croaked, the tears starting all over again. “I’m so glad to see you’re awake! How are you feeling? What hurts?”

“Slow down, Stevie.” Y/N giggled, wincing at the flash of pain that shot up her side. “Clearly, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Jesus, you gave me a heart attack. I thought I lost you.” Steve stated his voice cracking. “I heard you die. I just-.”

“Hey.” Y/N interrupted. She reached her free hand up, and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb along his lips. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I didn’t though. I’m here. That’s all that matters.”

Steve couldn’t say a word, his voice caught up in his throat. Instead, he did what he’d wanted to since the day he realized he started to fall for her. He closed the distance between them and pressed a searing kiss against her lips. Y/N melted under his touch, tugging him closer. They didn’t pull back until the door swung open, the doctors filtering in.

Stepping back, Steve’s eyes never left Y/N as the doctors went through the motions. A smile spread on his face, his eyes shining with fresh unshed tears. He wasn’t going to mess this up. He was tired of being careful. He had a second chance, and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

Perma Tag: (CLOSED)

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(Let me know if I missed you, the strike means I can’t tag you for some reason.)

Steve Tag: (Open)

@biologik / @screamimalive / @ahsokastarwars / @bucky-smiles / @robfangirl/

(Let me know if I missed you, the strike means I can’t tag you for some reason.)

[brauthaalandfc]

Manchester City Player Ratings 2018/19

I got bored and decided to write a lil review of Manchester City players this season. Hope you enjoy and feel free to discuss.

Warning: may be biased

Ederson: 9/10  Keeping this one short and simple, just like Eddie’s passes from the back. What more do you want from a keeper? He can give you assists, great saves, and is willing to run half way up the pitch to defend his teammates. Took one point off him because he didn’t score. Maybe next season. 

Kyle Walker: 7.5/10 The English idiot definitely got tired around christmas time with a few dodgy games which I guess is understandable given the fact the he hadn’t really stopped playing for over a year with the World Cup and so on and he might have been the England crackhead but overall I think Kyle did well. Especially during the last few games, I thought that he played really well. I think it was Crystal Palace away that he probably had one of his best games. I hope he rests well over summer and can continue that form next season. 

Danilo: 7/10 When Kyle was too busy snorting coke (just kidding, don’t kill me), Danilo played really well in his place. Although he isn’t as quick or as direct as Kyle, he provided a composure and control that sometimes Kyle lacks. He didn’t really make any big mistakes when playing, and I would have given him a higher score if he played a little more. There has been rumours of him leaving and I hope these are not true because he is a pretty solid back up at right back and is Bernardo’s favourite person to annoy.

Oleksandr Zinchenko: 8/10 Am I crazy giving him a higher rating than Kyle? Probably. But I love to spread appreciation for my unproblematic little blonde ukrainian! Last summer he was linked heavily to Wolves- it looked highly probable that that was were he was going to end up this season. However, he decided to stay and fight for his place at Manchester City and I am so bloody glad that he did! When Ben got injured and Delph was...you know... being Delph, Zinnie stepped up and performed at left back (not his natural position!!) and played at a higher standard than any of us would have thought! I really admire his determination and confidence in himself to stay and fight to get into the first team. You can tell he works hard always and really loves and appreciates all his teammates. I have loved watching the little shy KDB lookalike grow and blossom into a more confident young man. Hopefully there is much more to come from this bundle of joy. We could all learn from Oleksandr Zinchenko!

Fabian Delph: 3/10 I might be a bit harsh here but literally, when did he forget the basics of football? Man preached it in All or Nothing but couldn’t practice it irl. Deplhy was a breakthrough last season and played well when Mendy got injured (yes, again). But this season... I don’t know what he was up to. Most games he played, we lost. I honestly have no clue what made him snap like that vs Leicester but bitch... calm down!! Is it harsh to say I don’t think he played well once this season? Well, I am saying it. Don’t get me wrong, I will be sad if he leaves this summer. He most definitely has passion, and whilst sometimes that leads to him perhaps being too emotional on the pitch, I appreciate it and is a popular character in the dressing room that will be missed. He has given a lot for the club in recent years but I’m afraid I see no future for him here. No more Delph every weekend :( 

Benjamin Mendy: 5/10 I have a soft spot for Mendy, can you tell? You’re probably thinking 5 is too high but I will tell you why. He played 10 games this season and got 5 assists during that time. That’s an assist every second game (if I have done my maths right). In the early stages of the season, there was no doubt that he was one of our most effective players. I was at the home game vs Huddersfield in August and I thought he played so well that game, bombing up the wing every time. He got an assist too, if I remember correctly? His crosses are insane and watching him live was a (rare) blessing! This makes it hurt even more knowing he got injured. It is obvious that Ben has so much potential and has bags of talent however, injuries seem to haunt him. Along with his occasion lax judgement and lack of concentration, he finds himself in difficult situations. It breaks my heart of the stories leaking from the training ground of him breaking down in tears. I cannot be easy for a young footballer to go through so many injuries when they are at a club that is constantly winning and breaking records, where you can watch your teammates win things and have fun with each other whilst you are stuck inside with your leg in a cast. My heart breaks for him and I hope that next season, these injuries no longer take over him and he can have a season to finally show why he is one of the best left backs in the world.

Aymeric Laporte: 9/10 There has been a lot of hype around Van Dijk this season (and rightly so) however, Aymeric hasn’t received as much attention and I think that is slightly unfair. Laporte, in my opinion, is not that far behind Van Dijk and is nowhere near his peak quite yet. I think that Aymeric has been one of our best and most important players this season. He is always reliable in defence and has probably been our first choice CB this season. Not to mention, he scored that header against Brighton that put us back in front and on the way to the title. I believe that Aymeric is an amazingly talented CB that will only improve over these next few seasons, and who knows, he might one day become the best CB in the league. 

Nicolas Otamendi: 6.5/10 Nico was so so good for us last year and offers us more physicality at CB in comparison to Stones and Laporte, however he hasn’t really stood out this season. Despite this, I don’t think he has done much wrong? He has been largely reliable when called upon to help out the team and I really can’t fault him for that. Like Danilo, he was been linked with a move elsewhere but I hope that he doesn’t move. Like I said, he is more physical than Stones and Laporte and sometimes I feel like we need that, and with Vinnie leaving I don’t think it is wise to let another CB go when I don’t feel academy players like Garcia are ready for that jump up yet. Oh and he has a good beard so I bumped him up from an initial 6. 

John Stones: 7.5/10 It has been a bit of a weird season for Stonsey, hasn’t it? At the beginning of the season, he was playing loads and was dead good. However, after THAT moment vs Liverpool he seemed to fade away a little and it looked like Pep prefered to play Vinnie and Laporte over him nearing the end of the season when it was tense. He still played a little though. sometimes coming on to play as a defensive midfielder kind of position and didn’t really make any mistakes there which I guess shows him maturing as an all round player and reveals just how much Pep trusts him and sees potential in him. I expect him to play a lot more next season and continue to grow as a central... sorry centre back.

Vincent Kompany: 8/10 I was considering giving him a 10/10 just for that goal vs Leicester but I am keeping that score for someone else ;) What can I say about this man that hasn’t already been said? He is a Manchester City and Premier League legend. He captained this team to a domestic treble, an achievement never done in Men’s English football. Pep trusted him at the most important part of the season and it turned out to be the correct decision with that thunderbolt against Leicester (honestly, I cried). His season was kinda the opposite to Stonsey’s, he didn’t play much in the beginning of the season but played a lot in the second half. I’m so glad he got a run of games without injuries and got to play a pivotal role in the season’s outcome. He went out on a high and I wish him all the best in his new role at Anderlecht, as long as he comes back sometime soon. Captain. Leader. Legend.

Fernandinho: 8.5/10 I think it says a lot about the importance of Fernandinho to this Manchester City team that when we lost two games back to back in December, Fernandinho was missing. He is crucial to the way in which we play, and he plays his role so effectively and in a composed and sophisticated manner. He is like the unsung hero of the team. So why didn’t I give him a 9 or a 10? Whilst he has been reliable for large parts of the season, sometimes I feel like the game gets to him a little. The best example of that was vs Newcastle where he gave away the penalty that could have cost us the league. Luckily it didn’t but usually he does not make them mistakes but sometimes when we are under pressure, he can let out his frustrations. Regardless of that, I think he has done an immense job yet again this season. Despite getting a few injuries and frustration clouding his better judgement, he is still one of our best players. 

Ilkay Gundogan: 8.5/10 I was soooo gutted when we signed him in 2016 and he then proceeded to have that season ended prematurely due to injuries because I was so excited to see him play for Manchester City. However, I feel like we got to see the best of Ilkay Gundogan this season. Whilst sometimes I scream at him for continuously passing backwards some games, his reading and intelligence of the game is probably one of the best in the squad. When Dinho picked up a few injuries near the end of the season, I thought that was our title dreams over, however Ilkay decided to prove me wrong and deliver amazing performances when we needed him most. Sometimes City fans on Twitter give him stick but I genuinely believe that he is a massive talent for us and is fully capable of playing that Dinho role if we need him to.

David Silva: 7/10 There is a case to be made that David Silva is best ever player to put on a City shirt however, this season wasn’t his best. He started off well, and that free kick against Huddersfield was amazing! But gradually, he became slower and less like the el mago that we all know and love to watch. He would give the ball away cheaply and occasionally pick the wrong pass or just slow down play altogether. Even I was getting a little bit tired of Pep playing him ahead of a faster and more direct Leroy Sane. But at the Manchester Derby at Old Trafford, he did what David Silva usually does, and made the game his own. He was so so good that night and helped to keep the calm and control that game, even when we were looking a little bit shaky. Despite this, he did look tired most of the season. I really hope that was just Pep overplaying him because of Kev’s injury and that he isn’t losing his legs because I’m not ready to let go of him yet.

Phil Foden: 7/10 Now, me saying that Phil and David were both 7′s this season, does not mean that I think that they were at the same level this season. Of course, David played at a higher level than Phil. It just means that Phil’s standards are understandably lower than David’s. However, Phil did amazingly this season despite his situation. He is in a team, competing for a place with players like David Silva, Ilkay Gundogan, Kevin De Bruyne and Bernardo Silva. So I think we were all surprised when the team news came out for the Spurs game and he was there. No, not on the bench but in the starting eleven. An eighteen year old boyhood fan starting a game for Manchester City! Against a top 4 team! In a tight title race! Not only that but he scored and played maturely for his age. I am incredibly proud of my lil baby Phil (even though he has a baby now). He started and played in more games than I would have anticipated. All of his time spent patiently waiting for his chance and training alongside his hero, has paid off! I hope he will get even more game time next season, showing us all why he has the nickname Stockport Iniesta!

Kevin De Bruyne: 7.5/10 This is a difficult one. Kevin has had a difficult season. It seemed that whenever he would finally hit form, he would get injured again. I cannot imagine how difficult that would have been for him. It was saddening as a fan who loves to watch him play that we never really got to see the best of Kevin De Bruyne, We saw glinces of it in the FA Cup final but it was a little too late. There is no doubt that Kevin is a world class player, but unfortunately we haven’t been able to witness that this season. Despite this, when he did play he definitely had an impact. We are a better team with Kevin De Bruyne in it. No arguments about that. I hope next season he is back to his normal self, assisting and scoring when we need him most.

Bernardo Silva: 10/10 Ah, here we go. Brace yourselves, this could be a long one. I LOVE BERNARDO SILVA. In my opinion, he has been the best player in the Premier League this season AND should be in top 3 for Ballon d’Or. Am I being incredibly biased and over reactionary? Probably, yes. But am I wrong? No. Bernardo Silva has everything. He runs 12-14km a game. He never stops. He can dribble like Messi. Yes, like Messi. He dribbles like Messi. He can cross balls into the box. He can run halfway across the pitch just to tackle someone off the ball. He took on Virgil Van Dijk. 5′6 Bernardo Silva decided to get in a battle with 6′3 Virgil Van Dijk. Can we just take a moment to appreciate him in that game against Liverpool? He ran and ran and ran until he covered every single inch of the pitch that night. He wanted to win more than anyone and it showed. And let’s talk about his passion.  He celebrates every Manchester City goal like a madman, running across to the goalscorer and pulling the craziest of faces. And his goal celebration at Old Trafford? ICONIC. He did a knee-slide at Old Trafford in front of the City fans. Twenty years ago, and he would be considered a City legend for that alone. But he is on his way to becoming one of Manchester City’s all time best. I mean, his chant is already one of the best! I cannot fault any part of his season. Maybe he could have scored and assisted more? Meh I don’t care, his work rate earns him something more than just goals: the fans hearts. He has the potential to become one of the best in the world and I am so glad he is at Manchester City and has committed his future to us. 

Raheem Sterling: 9/10 Raheem has matured so much this season. Not just on the pitch, but off the pitch too. He has become a great influence and inspiration for those who have to suffer through racial discrimination and horrid racist attitudes. Whilst he has always been this person, it has taken the media this long to recognise this and praise him for it. I am happy that finally he is getting the positive recognition that he deserves. And he has deserved it this season. Each season he seems to grow more and more confident in himself, scoring and assisting more often. I can only see him growing from here and becoming even better. Only thing that is missing is his goal at Anfield, winning our first game there since 2003 ;)

Riyad Mahrez: 6.5/10 I think that it was always going to be difficult for Riyad this season. Our wingers: Raz, Leroy and Bernardo are all well suited to Pep’s style and the players around them. He needed time to adapt and learn. Overall, I feel like he dealt with it quite well. Yes, he missed that penalty at Anfield but he won us points at games where we were struggling slightly like Bournemouth. He did end up missing a lot of game time due to just how good Raz and Bernardo have been this season, he couldn’t really get a look into the team. And how many other players would to be honest? Although, I do feel he could have done better for a first season in a team like this, he has coped well and integrated into the team nicely. Hopefully he can have a breakthrough like Bernardo next season!

Leroy Sane: 6.5/10 I feel like Leroy would get a far greater rating if Pep played him a little bit more but I guess Pep had his reasons and that is understandable. Leroy, for me, is one of the best young players in the world. He has so much talent and potential. He offers something different from the other wingers in the team and can cause defences to have nightmares. And on top of that, this season we discovered that he is dangerous from free kicks too. But as I said, Pep didn’t play him as much as he could have. I guess Pep and Sane have their own problems and I hope it can be solved because Leroy is one to keep here at City. He has a huge future ahead of him and I would be massively disappointed if we lost him. 

Gabriel Jesus: 6/10 Gabi is the the same kind of situation as Riyad and Leroy. I think he has so much potential at this club however, his game time is limited due to the fact that he has to compete with Sergio Aguero, possibly one of the best strikers to play in the Premier League. It is a massive ask for Gabriel at his age. However, I think he has shown enough this season and seasons prior that he is a talented player who fits in this team perfectly. His workrate is perfect and I can see him becoming an important player for us in the future.

Sergio Aguero: 9.5/10 If you ever need a goal, Sergio is the player to go to. This man got back to back Premier League hat tricks against Arsenal and Chelsea IN THE SAME WEEK. Unfortunately, he just missed out on the Golden Boot, however he scored incredibly important goals for us this season. The goal vs Burnley, the one vs Liverpool and the one vs Brighton are just three examples. He is always there when we need him. And that is why I put him as the second highest rated. (sorry Raz I still love you xx)

[wrestlersownmyheart]

Second Chances Ch. 33 (Book 1 In the "Chances" Series) *Samoa Joe X OC* **Finn Bálor's First Appearance**

Pairing: Samoa Joe X Female OC

Summary:

Ella Roberts has led a traumatic life.

She witnessed her parents' murders at the age of eighteen, and narrowly escaped death herself, due to the intervention of Joe Seanoa, a close family friend. After she discovers she was the true target the night her parents were killed, she assumes a new identity and runs away with intentions of protecting her family and loved ones. Years later, she is pursued by a mysterious Ukrainian, and soon finds herself right back in the biggest nightmare of her life. Fate brings her back to Joe, and knowing Ella's still in danger, Joe vows to keep her safe. But can he succeed? Or will the danger that still threatens her freeze any second chance they have at a happily-ever-after?

Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with TNA. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.

Chapter Content & Trigger Warnings: Some violence, sexual assault with no details

Chapter Thirty-Three

Several policemen burst through the door of Ella's home and began checking the ground floor of the huge house to make sure it was safe for the paramedics to enter. They quickly spotted Joe's unconscious form lying in a puddle of blood. One officer remained with him as the others ran ahead to view the status of the large house. He took hold of Joe's wrist and felt for a pulse. A light, rhythmic thump hit his fingers and he puffed out a sigh of relief.

"First level's clear!"

The cop released Joe's wrist upon hearing various shouts of clearance from his team. He heard their footsteps running up the stairs quickly, but with caution, so they could check out the remaining level. Hastily, he called out to the paramedics, "The ground floor is clear! Get in here—fast!" As the team of medics ran into the house pulling a gurney, he gave them a slight overview of the unconscious man's status. "This man's been shot in the chest," he called as the paramedics entered the house. "And it's weak, but he does have a pulse."

The trained medics were already kneeling over Joe even before the cop finished speaking and began assessing the damage and taking his vitals.

Rolling the large Samoan onto his side to slide a transfer board under him, a female medic inspected his back. "No exit wound," she reported softly.

They settled Joe onto the transfer board then, as the same paramedic checked to see if he was bleeding from the mouth. When she saw he wasn't she grabbed the small oxygen tank and placed a mask over his nose and mouth. "He's not expelling blood through the mouth," she reported. "And his breaths seem to be remarkably even despite a chest wound. I'm not going to put his body through the trauma of an endotracheal tube unless his breathing becomes more labored—for now an oxygen mask will do." She pulled a pressure bandage out of her medical case and applied the dressing over Joe's gunshot wound till they got him transported to the hospital. "Okay, let's get the C-collar on him."

A collar was passed up to the medic and she quickly situated the collar around Joe's neck then, began fastening the Velcro straps into place. Seconds later, they had Joe secured to the transfer board and continued monitoring him and preparing him for the gurney.

"His BP is low," a male paramedic informed the others, "Eight-five over forty-nine."

"Alright, let's get him on the gurney and get the IV set up—on the count of three," the female medic said urgently. "One, two, THREE." They lifted Joe's limp frame onto the gurney and immediately the female began preparing his hand for the IV.

They heard a soft groan and looked down at the large Pacific Islander. The instant the IV needle pierced his skin, he tried to snatch his hand away from the sharp little stab.

"No," the female spoke softly to him. "It's okay. You're safe now. Please, don't fight us. We're only trying to help you."

Attempting to open his eyes, Joe tugged on his hand again and the medic held it firmly in place.

"Sir, we're paramedics. We're just trying to give you an IV. Please, let us help you."

"Ella…" he rasped. "Miracle…"

"What's that, sir?"

"My…w-wife… daughter…"

"We'll notify them as soon as we have you in the hospital," the paramedic answered, not clear on the details of what was going on. They had a job to do right then—help save a life. And by the looks of the man's wound, it wasn't going to be an easy task.

Minutes later, they had Joe loaded into the ambulance, and were speeding to the trauma center.

"Sir, I need to ask you a few questions," the female medic stated, keeping an eye on his breathing and oxygen levels. "Can you tell me your name?"

"J-Joe."

"Okay, Joe—Can you tell me how old you are?"

"Thir…thirty-two…"

"Okay, I know this is a dumb question, but I have to ask it. Are you in any pain?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"On a scale of one to ten—can you tell me how bad the pain is?"

"F-fifteen."

"I imagine so. I'm sorry, Joe. We'll get you to the trauma center soon, and you'll be well cared for."

"Th-thank you."

"You're welcome. I just wish I could do more for you," the paramedic answered softly, checking his blood pressure yet again as they neared the hospital.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

"I've got to go, Mrs. Mason, please," Miracle pleaded as she watched her house from her neighbors' front window.

In the brief moment she saw her father for the first time, his first words to her were: "Run, baby! Do as I say!"

Miracle could see he was leaving no room for argument, and heeded his urgent plea. Fearing some of the men would follow her if she simply ran next door, she ran two blocks away to the Masons and pounded on their front door.

Mrs. Mason—what with her husband working overnight—had hesitated to open the door till she looked out the peephole and saw Miracle. Once inside the hysterical girl alerted her to what was happening and the woman immediately called the authorities.

Ever since, Miracle had remained vigilant at the large window. She begged Mrs. Mason to let her go back to her house once she saw the ambulance and police arrive down the street, but her neighbor had been adamant that she stay put for the moment.

"Miracle, dear, please listen to me. You need to stay here where it's safe-"

"But I can see them loading someone into the ambulance," Miracle cried. "It has to be my mom or dad!"

"Just try to calm down, Miracle," Mrs. Mason tried to soothe her fears with a gentle hug. "If it's one of your parents, they'll be at the hospital. We'll find out which one and I'll take you there myself. But let the police have time to do their jobs first." The middle-aged woman could see she wasn't succeeding in calming the young girl. "How about a glass of milk and some cookies? Would that help you relax?"

Seeing an opportunity, Miracle took it.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

Smiling gently, the woman headed for the kitchen to get the snack together, and once she'd disappeared behind the swinging kitchen door, Miracle hurried for the front door. Bolting off the porch she ran for her house with all her might.

She saw the ambulance pulling out of the driveway and waved her arms frantically. "Please, stop!" The emergency vehicle proceeded to speed up, the lights began flashing and the siren screamed as it sped down the street. She shrieked again for them to stop, but the driver, of course, couldn't hear her.

She reached her yard and ran across the lawn determined to make someone listen to her. She halted at seeing the three police cars' flashing lights.

What if they're fake cops, she wondered in horror. What if they work for Fournier, like the one from earlier?

A hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, eliciting a terror-filled scream from her throat.

Holding her firmly by the shoulders, a young, dark-haired officer in uniform looked down at her.

"Easy, lass. Who are ya? Do you live here," the officer asked softly, his Irish burr belying the intensity of his blue eyes that stared straight into hers.

Panting from the sudden jolt of fear she felt, she nodded hesitantly. "Yes. My name is Miracle. Please, tell me you're a real cop."

"Yes, 'o course," he answered, somewhat unnerved by her suspicion. What's happened to make her so suspicious of a cop, he wondered. To ease her mind, he asked softly. "Would ya like t' see my badge, Miracle?"

She nodded again. "Yes, please," she answered quietly as he reached into his jacket for his badge. "I…I was kidnapped earlier by a fake cop, or a crooked cop…I'm not sure which."

"Who do you live wit'," the cop asked her, holding his badge out to her.

She took it and then stared at him a moment, comparing his face to the photo which was next to the badge. It was then she noticed how handsome he was. Flushing, she looked down at his badge and ID again. Officer Finn Bálor, she read to herself. "My mother," she answered, glancing up at him again. She knew there was still no guarantee the man was really a cop, but she had no way of finding out. She had to have faith. Finally satisfied, Miracle handed him the badge back.

"Is Claire Jones your máthair?" He corrected himself when he, by habit, reverted to speaking Irish. "Is she your mum?"

"Yes," she answered, but then realized that probably wasn't her mother's real name. Not since she'd been in hiding over the past twelve years. "But…"

"What is it? I need t' know, honey. Something bad happened here t'night and-"

"My mom was in hiding. I know she must've been using a fake name, but she never told me her real one. Please tell me…are they okay," she asked worriedly. "Please, say they're okay!"

"Who's 'they'," Officer Bálor asked, trying to make sure he correctly understood everything the frightened girl was saying. "Are ya referring t' both your parents?"

"Yes," Miracle cried. "My dad… I'd never met him till tonight. He told me to run…" she prattled on frantically. "I did. And then I saw an ambulance leave here. Please, Officer Bálor, are my parents all right?"

"Is your da's name Joe," he asked, dreading the answer. The girl looked very much like the man he'd found in the home earlier.

Tears welled up in the young girl's eyes. "Yes, his name's Joe. Please…"

"He was taken t' the hospital. He was shot."

The girl sobbed, and the cop slowly pulled her into a hug. "Listen, we'll get ya to your da. Just hang tough for a li'l longer, okay?"

Miracle buried her face against his chest, grateful for his comfort and compassion. "What about my mama?"

This had the officer stumped.

"Where was she when you last saw her? Was she hurt?"

"I-I… I'm not sure," Miracle stammered as she recalled her mother holding a knife to her own throat. "We were being attacked. She held a knife to her throat to protect me."

"Excuse me," the cop said, his forehead creasing with incomprehension. He wasn't able to keep up with the girl's strange logic.

"We were all inside the house—Me and my mom and dad…this man wanted my mom for some reason…she knew he wouldn't want her hurt because he needs her. She held the knife to her throat so I could run and get help."

It began to make sense.

Someone was after her mum and used the girl as leverage to get to her, he realized. So Claire turned the tables and used herself as leverage to protect her daughter. He then noticed a smear of blood on the girl's neck and realized she'd been cut or scratched. Not to mention the blood coating her forehead.

"Okay, honey," he said softly, kneeling down to her level. His vivid blue eyes grew warm with sympathy. "It looks like you were hurt as well. Let's get you to the hospital to be checked over," he hurried along when he saw Miracle begin to protest. "Your da is at the hospital too. Ya could probably see him later on."

"But you still haven't told me about my mom," Miracle cried. Tears of frustration spilled out of her onyx eyes. "Where is she?"

The cop looked defeated. "I'm not sure, lass. We're goin' to do everything we can to find her."

The sudden sound of a vehicle screeching to a stop in the driveway caused Miracle to scream. Officer Bálor pulled her behind him, his instinct to protect kicked into high gear. His hand rested on his gun holster, ready to pull out the firearm in a second's notice.

A blond-haired man jumped out of a large truck and jogged toward them, holding his hands up to show they were empty of any weapons.

"Stop right there," Bálor called out, hearing Miracle's frightened sobs from behind him. "Who are you and what do you want? There's an investigation going on here. So if you don't want to get arrested right here and now, I suggest you state what your business is."

The man halted and raised his arms higher.

"My name is Jeff Jarrett," he stated. "My employee, Joe Seanoa, was here. He called me on his cell and told me he'd found my niece—his wife. I thought she'd died years ago, but she's alive! Please, tell me…is she here?"

Miracle peeked around the cop at the man and felt a calmness take her over. The man meant no harm—she could feel it.

And he looks familiar, she thought, gazing at his bright, warm blue eyes. I've seen him somewhere… Glancing up at Officer Bálor, she noticed that his face reflected recognition as well. Jeff Jarrett...

Then it hit her. She'd seen him in some of the photos her mother had shown her a couple years prior.

He's okay, she realized. My mom's uncle!

"You're my mom's uncle," she asked timidly, stepping out from behind Officer Bálor. "I've seen you…in pictures—online."

Jeff stared at the young girl, and for a moment he found himself speechless. She was the spitting image of both Ella and Joe. "My God," he uttered. He glanced up at the cop. "Is it okay if I…" he motioned that he wanted to approach the girl.

"Only if it's okay wit' her," Bálor answered. "I know who you are—recognize ya, and I'm sure ya mean no harm, but it's up to the lass." He looked down at Miracle and she nodded to him.

"It's fine," she whispered, watching Jeff intently.

Jeff walked up to her and knelt down to get a better look at her. "My God," he said again. "I had no idea." He reached up slowly so as not to frighten her and gently turned her face, inspecting the similarities between her, and his niece and Joe. "I can't believe it. What's your name, little one?"

"M-Miracle."

The girl could find no other words as tears stung her eyes. She felt immense relief at finding more of her family—especially at such a crucial time.

"What a beautiful name," Jeff said softly, running his hand lightly over her hair. "Your mama did a wonderful job of naming you."

Sobbing, she dove into Jeff's arms and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight, desperate hug.

Feeling her distress and need for comfort, Jeff wrapped his arms around her in return.

"It's going to be okay, Miracle," he whispered, rocking her gently. "I promise."

"But Daddy…" she cried. "Mama…"

Still holding her close, Jeff looked up at Officer Bálor. "Is Joe at the hospital," he asked. "He told me he was shot and that a man—Jacques Fournier—took Ella. Ella Seanoa," he clarified. "Joe told me she was going by Claire Jones."

Miracle nodded sniffled. "Yes, Mom's fake name was Claire. They don't know where she is," she sobbed again. "Daddy said Fournier took her?"

Jeff nodded as Bálor spoke up. "All I know as of right now, is that we came here as instructed and found an unconscious man—who later came to and said his name was Joe. He had a gunshot wound to the chest, and he's been transported to the hospital."

"Shot in the chest," Jeff repeated incredulously. He tried to keep his fear to himself for Miracle's sake, but he began to question if Joe would survive. He'd not heard of many people surviving a gunshot to the chest.

"Yes," the officer confirmed. "I'm very sorry," he paused a moment unsure of what to say. Finally he spoke softly, "If you want, I can inform my team of your arrival, and will see about escorting you to the hospital. If this Fournier is still on the loose, neither of you need to be jeopardizing your safety."

Jeff nodded numbly as Miracle continued to sob. He held her closely and whispered soothing words of comfort to her while the officer spoke over the walkie talkie clipped to his shoulder.

Seconds later, the cop had authorization to drive Miracle and Jeff to the hospital.

Jeff prayed through the duration of the drive, hoping against hope that Joe was alive and would stay that way.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Ella's eyes slowly fluttered open and she winced at the sharp pain in her head. Groaning softly, she sat up from where she lay. Instantly, recollections of hours before flooded her mind.

"Joe," she cried. "Oh, God… Joe…," she sobbed. The pain of the memories washed over her then. Visions of Joe covered in his own blood invaded her mind till she couldn't stand it anymore. "Please, please, make it stop…" she sobbed, holding her head in her hands. I have to try and find a way out of here, she thought, eyeing her surroundings. Or kill myself. I'm either going to be with Joe, or with my daughter. One thing's for sure…I'm not going to be around Fournier any longer than I have to be.

Finally she focused and took in her surroundings. She was in a dimly-lit cage—a huge caged room.

A giant prison cell, she thought in horror.

The full realization that Fournier had at last captured her hit her full-force.

"Oh, my God," she gasped as she stood to her feet to take a better look around. The only private area she had in the huge barred confine was what appeared to be a small bathroom—complete with a shower, toilet, lavatory and shelves filled with toiletries.

Frightened tears burned her eyes as she realized her long-awaited fate.

Behind her, she heard the jangling of keys and the clanging of iron. Spinning around, she saw Fournier—or whom she once believed to be Viktor Dankevych—stroll casually into the cage, locking the door behind him.

He turned toward her and smiled. "At long last. You're finally mine."

Ella shook her head frantically. "No." She took a couple steps back to give herself more space.

"Oh, yes…You are," he insisted, stalking toward her. "I've waited a long time for this. A very long time." In the next instant, he rushed at her and grabbed hold of her, forcing a terrified scream from her throat.

As he pinned her against a wall of the cage, Ella tried unsuccessfully to claw at his face. He chuckled and held her wrists tightly in his hand, pinning them above her head.

"Stop screaming and fighting me, or I'll hurt you," he growled in her face, his ice-blue eyes burning into hers. Ella couldn't control the fight her body was putting up and Fournier grew angrier. He let loose with his free hand and punched her hard in the face. Her head smacked into the bars and stunned her into momentary submission. She had no time to think as she was flung across the bed in the next instant. Stunned and unable to make sense of what she was seeing, she watched as Fournier handcuffed her wrists to railings above her head.

"I had these custom railings installed on your bed because I thought they'd come in handy," he told her in a conversational tone. "I was right. You need to be taught a thing or two Ella Roberts," he said, purposely leaving out her married name. "And one thing I plan to teach you is obedience. You need to be broken, and I'm just the man to do it."

"Let me go," Ella sobbed, slowly coming back to her senses. She yanked on the cuffs with all her might. "Please, don't do this!"

"You're not going to get free," Fournier chuckled, seeming to enjoy her fear. He ran his finger down the side of her face. She recoiled at first and then bit at his hand in a fit of temper. His flattened palm struck her across the cheekbone in the next instant, and the sharp sting of the slap exploded throughout her face. She was vaguely aware of the sound of a switchblade, and the feel of cold metal sliding lightly across the skin of her neck.

"You may not listen to me, but I bet you'll listen to my knife," he threatened.

The light, conversational tone was gone from his voice. The only thing she heard at that moment was icy malice.

Her temper ignited again and she glared at him, fighting to keep her breathing even.

"Go ahead," she said defiantly. She watched in fury as he seemed to ignore her words. His eyes instead scanned over her body and his acute attention sent a shiver of terror down her spine. She could actually read his thoughts. Clenching her teeth, she spoke distinctly, "Kill me. You've killed so many people by now, what's one more?" When he continued to ignore her and seemed fascinated by her ribcage–her robe had fallen open and exposed her tattoos–she lashed out in fury with her legs and tried to kick him.

He easily pinned them down with his arms and spoke casually, "Try to kick me again and I'll cuff your ankles as well." His eyes shot up to hers for a moment, "You are going to give me a baby, Ella—an heir. It's inevitable. No one knows where you are. I have you locked up in this cage—chained to a bed." He actually smirked at her then, "There's nothing you can do to change your fate."

Like a fist to the stomach, the sudden fear weighed her down to the point of losing oxygen. She gasped for air and tried desperately to not cry or sob in his presence.

"Now…what are these tattoos," he asked curiously, pointing to each of the four tattoos. "And don't lie to me. I'll know if you do—and trust me when I say you won't like the punishment I come up with for lying."

Ella knew enough to realize he would follow up on his threats. He'd followed up on his threats her whole life—after all, he now had her. He'd always said he would.

"They're dates," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

"I realize that," he said, pressing the point of the blade into her skin—a nonverbal threat. "What's the significance of the dates?"

A tear rolled down her cheek as she answered softly. "The first one is the day Joe and I met. The second is mine and Joe's wedding anniversary, the third is the same date, but the broken black heart signifies how I had to fake my death and leave him." She took a deep breath and gave him the reason for the last tattoo. "The last date is my daughter's birthday."

She continued to avoid his gaze but heard his voice whisper determinedly, "That's unacceptable. I can't have that. You don't belong to them anymore—you're mine, so you can't have any reminders of him or your daughter."

The tone of his voice chilled her blood. "I don't know what you expect me to do about it," she replied. "They're tattoos. They're permanent."

"That's all in how you look at it."

Before she could ask him what he meant, she felt an excruciating, sharp pain at her side. A sound burst from her mouth as the sharp burn manifested and grew—a whimper that transitioned into a horrified shriek.

"PLEASE, STOP IT," she screamed, as an angry fire seared the tender skin over her ribs.

"I only need two more, and I'll be done," Fournier stated calmly, ignoring her cries and screams of misery. He continued gouging the blade into her flesh.

Ella sobbed and struggled against his merciless hands. She was vaguely aware of his voice scolding her—telling her she was causing him to mar her skin more than was necessary. She couldn't stop though. Her body would not cooperate with his orders. The torture was too great.

Soon, her vision went fuzzy and then faded out to black.

The next time her eyes opened, she still felt excruciating burns traveling up her side. Fournier's cold, emotionless voice informed her he was stitching her up. Her mind being incapable of handling the amount of agony her body was being put through, she passed out again.

Within minutes, she awoke again and wished she hadn't.

Fournier was on top of her, using her body to produce the heir he'd sworn she would give him.

[the-chaotic-neutral]

I’m so unprepared this year! Due to a lot going on in life, I didn’t have time to watch either of the semi-finals or even pregame with the official music videos! So that means I’m going into the finals 100% cold. I feel both unprepared and excited. I haven’t gone into finals without research and preconceived judgement before. I have no idea what each country’s songs will be like or what style their stage shows may take.

So here’s to art, entertainment, and surprises! 🥂

Opening performance by TK. Last year’s winner, Salvador Sobral, championed authenticity (sometimes to the ire of other contestants and fans) and it feels like

I’m watching the US broadcast this year, which is presented by Logo and hosted by Ross Mathews and Shangela. Since Eurovision is still relatively new to the USA, and very new to Shangela, this broadcast is a perfect entry for American viewers. Ross explains the basics along with the idea of the Big 5[foot]The Big 5 are the countries that have contributed the most amount of money to Eurovision which guarantees them a spot in the finals without competing in either night of semi-finals. They are [/foot]. It’s also available as a live stream on Logo’s Youtube channel regardless of your TV package, so it’s accessible to literally anyone to watch.

01. Ukraine – Mélovin “Under the Ladder” A vampire rises. The song isn’t great, and the performance suddenly loses some of its exoticism when it becomes apparent that he’s singing in muddled English and not Ukrainian. It gains some back when his entire set catches on fire (on purpose).

02. Spain – Amaia & Alfred “Tu canción”

Super cute! Simple staging and great chemistry between these two makes this performance so damn endearing! But they’re really early and not much of a spectacle, so I worry they’ll get buried by later performances.

03. Slovenia – Lea Sirk “Hvala, ne!” She’s trying to throw down tough and maybe come off like Pink, but that’s hard when she’s got a huge, goofy grin on the whole time.

04. Lithuania – Ieva Zasimauskaitė “When We’re Old” A slow, sweet ballad with holograms. Holograms can be a real risk in a show. It can be a neat effect, like when Australia used it for a Minority Report computer interface, and it can be the show-stealer, like when it’s a nude clone with wolves. This came of as middling, especially because she seemed to reign in her own vocals. It felt more like a verse of a song rather than a full performance.

05. Austria – Cesár Sampson “Nobody but You” Great job utilizing the stage and lighting as a single performer, but this song is not up for the job.

06. Estonia – Elina Nechayeva “La forza” Estonia has a history of visually impressive performances, and this is not a disappointment. With this, the world comes one step closer to the Diva from The Fifth Element. Her voice is great and her dress is all projection mapping! This is how you make a strong impression while pushing the vocals to the forefront.

07. Norway – Alexander Rybak “That’s How You Write a Song” Shoobidoo dap dap, shoobay doop hay, that’s how you write a song.

No it’s not. This an adorable performance with incredibly inaccurate instructions on song writing. Major props on playing the violin, and the whole thing is really endearing, but I think it’s too breezy to stick in this competition.

08. Portugal – Cláudia Pascoal[h] “O jardim” This is the home team, the current champions, so they have a lot to live up to. I don’t know if it’s authentic enough for Sobral but I’m loving it.

Anyone else get a total Lola vibe (from Degrassi) from her? These are not the same person.

09. United Kingdom – SuRie “Storm” I’m getting Annie Lennox redux. Her song is not the Tim Minchin song, disappointingly, but this is one of the best UK contestants in years. Many of the Big 5 countries, which can go straight to the finals, seem to phone it in or at least submit very generic pop. This is the first time I can remember actually enjoying the UK contestant.

10. Serbia – Sanja Ilić & Balkanika “Nova deca” (Нова деца) Amazons and the grim specter of death! And discotheque! Unfortunately the visuals are the best part of this group. Their song is meh and I don’t think I’ll even be able to remember what they sounded like the next morning.

11. Germany – Michael Schulte “You Let Me Walk Alone” Really touching, personal ballad. The stylized screen show behind him came off as far more effective than the holograms. I was really surprised at how honestly the whole thing came off touching. The song and accompanying performance are all about Schulte losing his father, and that personal connection does a lot to elevate this from just another pop ballad to a standout act. Also Schulte looks like Philippe and I had a son together, so I am very proud of my boy.

12. Albania – Eugent Bushpepa “Mall” This is clearly a grunge or metal band performing their first ballad before they go soft. Okay song, but could have been more specific to Albania or the band performing it or, well, more memorable in any way. And the disconnect between the look and the sound is jarring, disappointing, and lackluster.

13. France – Madame Monsieur “Mercy” Velcome to Sprokets. Just a reminder that this isn’t Germany’s submission. Okay, enough about their look. There’s a fundamental problem with this song here, though the song itself is good. It’s a really good song about real life baby born on a ship of refugees fleeing to Europe. This song would have been great on an album, but in a music and performance competition the nuances get smoothed out and the striking visuals take, no pun intended, center stage. I’ll probably come back to them as a band, but think that they’ll be lost when the voting starts.

14. Czech Republic – Mikolas Josef “Lie to Me” The year is 1994. The soundtrack is The Mask. The costume is Minkus from Boy Meets World. The inspiration is Fresh Prince of Bel Air. The performer was having fun, so I guess that’s nice. And that’s really all I can say about it.

15. Denmark – Rasmussen “Higher Ground” Do you like vikings? Do you like Silent Bob? Do you like when people take a theme (in this case, All Aboard) 100% literally? Well, have I got the group for you!

16. Australia – Jessica Mauboy “We Got Love” And the Bland Award goes to… The only words I can think of to describe this is “Europop” and “gyrations”. There’s nothing more to say.

17. Finland – Saara Aalto “Monsters” The remix of this song could be a club hit, but not this version. As it is now, there’s not enough bass or and energy for a club and not enough complexity for a pop hit.

18. Bulgaria – Equinox “Bones” I can’t be the only one that sees this guy and thinks black Jack Black.

The song itself was not all that great, but as a group their voices sounded great together. Similar to France, I’m not a fan of this one but I am intrigued enough to keep an ear out for the rest of their singles.

19. Moldova – DoReDoS “My Lucky Day” They’re introduced as a folk-pop group but… well, that must mean something else in Moldova. They have the presentation of a Laugh-In skit and the emotional range of a Bar Mitzvah DJ team. Hard pass.

20. Sweden – Benjamin Ingrosso “Dance You Off”

SCENE I. A desert place

Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches

First witch

Performance of Bieber

Second witch

Face of Ephron

Third witch

Song of Timberlake

I’m assuming that’s how this performer was summoned. An amalgam of safe bets, it’s no surprise that the song is generic yet appealing. Coupled with a great use of stage lighting, I don’t really like this one but I’m betting it’ll be a contender.

21. Hungary – AWS “Viszlát nyár” Yet another country who’s music submission seems to be off by a decade or so. The look screams Fall Out Boy but the music is more of a mid to late 90s pop metal. Whatever their inspiration, I spent way too much time trying to remember what forgettable bands they reminded me of and had no time to actually pay attention to them.

22. Israel – Netta “Toy” Yasss! Netta! And then… Okay, so I am very much not crazy about the Asian appropriation, but I’m here for everything else. The whole kimono and maneki-neko motif is just not sitting right. Please, you can do but. But her amazing sneer, the bizarre incorporation of the chicken dance, and the dance-able Tel Aviv music is killing it! Also, it’s great to see my homeland with something that’s not some punchable dude-bros on a beach.

23. Netherlands – Waylon “Outlaw in ‘Em” When you think of the Netherlands, what comes to mind? High taxes? State supplied health care and other services? How about Ted Nugent tributes and awkward krumping? Well, it will from now on.

24. Ireland – Ryan O’Shaughnessy “Together” This is the reason that China lost the finale broadcast rights. The musicians are recreating the Broadway show Once while a So You Think You Can Dance routine plays out with two dancers. Honestly, I kind of loved this. It was intimate and sincere and lovingly executed. One of my favorites of the night.

25. Cyprus – Eleni Foureira “Fuego” Oh no! Cyprus has read from the Necronomicon and opened up a rift in time! Ash Williams, come save us! This is Cyprus expect a danceable track. Because that’s what you’ll get. Also, every year there seems to be a Beyonce impersonator. Just saying.

26. Italy – Ermal Meta & Fabrizio Moro “Non mi avete fatto niente” I immediately see this one as a real contender. Not because I love the song (I don’t) but because it’s engineered with brutal efficiency. It perfectly balances poignant lyrics, earnest performance, and a solid song. The lyrics come up on the video screen with stylized fonts, rolling through various languages in a brutal and brilliant method of bringing in the world audience. You could maybe find a performance that is better in each category, but none so perfectly balanced across the board as Italy’s.

And now we wait for the votes to come in and be tallied. There’s always a lot of confusion about how they work so I’ll break it down to the best of my knowledge for y’all.

The jury votes. Each competing country has their own jury of voters that rank a top ten list. Then points are portioned out to their picks, with a top 11th award getting 12 points.

Public votes. These are given out based on the call-in voting from across Europe. This are announced second as they completely reorder the competitors.

If that sounds convoluted, it is. And purposefully so. The system was designed to draw out the suspense of the announcement as long as possible. So really the jury votes set up a baseline that can be completely overturned.

And impressions of this year? Well, I’m happy that the “white dress and a ballad” phase seems to be over. No clear style came out as a successor so maybe next year we’ll see a clear group-think strategy emerge.

My top picks, in no particular order, are:

Estonia

Portugal

Germany

Israel

Ireland

And I want to draw attention to a few more musical performers from Portugal, that weren’t in the competition but performed in the opening and closing segments. Mariza, Sara Tavares, and Mayra Andrade all caught my attention. So if you’re actually looking for new music in the midst of this spectacle, those are a few people I’d like to draw your attention to.

After an insane amount of re-ordering, and a long stretch when it looked like bland-as-bland-can-be Austria might win, Israel won! I am so happy, as that was personal pick. I figured Italy would take a high place in the public vote, and they did with 3rd place.

However, I think I would have preferred that Germany (my precious boy) would have won, as I do worry about Israel hosting Eurovision and all of the possible repercussions. Between the security issues of the people to go, and the political statements of the people who won’t, it’s going to be interesting. So now we can all revel in the greatness of Toy (if not the Orientalism of the performance) for a year. In the meantime, I’ll start a betting pool for how many countries will pull out of Eurovision between now and then.

NEXT TIME IN JERUSALEM! !השלב הבא בירושלים

I watch Eurovision because I know you didn't! I was totally unprepared this year. Still had a great time, though. Eurovision 2018: Finals I'm so unprepared this year! Due to a lot going on in life, I didn't have time to watch either of the semi-finals or even pregame with the official music videos!

[brewka]

[Rules: Complete the survey and say who tagged you in the beginning. When you are finished tag 5 people to do this survey. Have fun and enjoy!!!] 

Tagged by @cybzilla and @mollymerula, thank you so much!!! <3

I shouldn’t be doing this now that I barely have time for eating, but these are always so relaxing, so maybe it could motivate me to study for my finals hgjhg 

1. Are you named after someone? Not really, at least I've never heard about it? I was going to be called Kazimierz instead of Katarzyna anyway, haha. I chose my 3rd name after my friend and teacher, though, and it's very important to me.

2. When was the last time you cried? I don't cry much now and I really miss being able to do it? It used to help me a lot. But I'm sure I cried around 11 vol of Stone Ocean (so one month ago?) and I think i sobbed a little during watching some MGS playthrough, probably 4, because I'm a sentimental grandma

3. Do you like your handwriting? I hate it deeply, even I have troubles with reading it, a lot of people tease me about it, but I can't really change it.....

4. What is your favorite lunch meat? Team veggies. Though, what can I say, I really miss the taste of meat, it's pretty hard sometimes...

5. Do you have kids? Five, they all have beaks and wings!!!

6. If you were another person, would you be friends with you? I'll skip this so I won't get to anything emo!

7. Do you use sarcasm? Boy, I do, especially when I'm tired; but I have srs problems with telling if someone's sarcastic or if they mean what they're saying...!

8. Do you still have your tonsils? Ofc!

9. Would you bungee jump? Nah, I avoid everything that's risky and expensive, haha

10. What is your favorite kind of cereal? I never ate them much, but I loved both cornflakes and these... Honey wheat ones? What was their name??? It's hard to eat cereal without milk, so I don't do it anymore.

11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? I keep forgetting that tying shoes is a thing............

12. Do you think you’re a strong person? I feel most of the people who know/saw me would laugh at that, but you could be surprised sometimes, lol

13. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Sorbets of all kinds are great!! I used to love pistachio and mint ones but they all are milk based :(

14. What is the first thing you notice about people? Their hair! I often have problems with recognising faces so I usually focus on hair. Which sucks when someone changes their haircut a lot... who are you...

15. Red or pink? All colors are cool, but I have a soft spot for reds!!

16. What is the least favorite physical thing you like about yourself? The fact I have boobs and my skin problems probably... I could elaborate, but it's better not to, haha.

17. What color pants and shoes are you wearing right now? Blue (which is rare for me) and my fav winter boots, they're a blessing in cold weather...

18. What was the last thing you ate? A bun with apple filling, I bought it a moment before writing these answers in a bus, aa....

19. What are your listening to right now? MGS: Peace Walker, because I love to cry (mentally)

20. If you were a crayon what color would you be? Probably some ochre, because I keep overusing them...

21. Favorite smell? I always have troubles with these, I don't really focus on smelling stuff...! Fruit teas, probably! And fields, different kinds of weeds and flowers. AND PIGEONS!!! The smell of birds, especially with wet feathers, just feels so familiar and nice, idk, it probably sounds rly strange, haha,,,,

22. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? My dad, probably, I should finally repair my phone, hah....

23. Favorite sport to watch? Football :""""") I'm simple... Horse-related stuff is cool too, I never had much access to that, though.

24. Hair color? Some people call it dark blonde and it makes me want to murder... It's brown, and I'm quite fond of the color.

25. Eye color? I literally picked "multiple colors" for my ID because I couldn't tell! Gray's probably the closest, sometimes it's more blue, on other times it's greenish.

26. Do you wear contacts? I wear glasses sometimes, mostly for painting or going to the cinema!

27. Favorite food to eat? Summer veggies, I really miss them now. Mostly dishes with zucchini, pumpkin, eggplant and spinach, I love them so much! Also, nothing's better than Ukrainian borscht and kutia. Oh boy!!!!

28. Scary movies or comedy? Add romance and you have the 3 movie genres I avoid the most... Scary movies always irritated me, like, I have enough anxiety in my life? And, truth be told, I never really got scared. (Scary moments in games are the worst, though, I hate them because I relate to the characters I play as way too much....). I probably prefer comedies, but I hardly ever watch them, guess I just don't like to laugh all that much, haha. And bad jokes irritate me a lot. I like movies like "Dr. Strangelove..." if that counts! Guess it’s a comedy and it’s SUPER SCARY too...................

29. Last movie you watched? It was "Powidoki" and boy I really don't want to talk about that, it makes me pretty sad. I also rewatched "Strangelove" (👌👌👌👌) and saw "Paterson", which was beautiful and inspiring, 12/10 would recommend!!

30. What color shirt are you wearing? Gray, I think! Too many sweaters, haha

31. Summer or winter? ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥💕💕💕💞💞💞👏👏👏👏👏SUMMER, I MISS YOU SO MUCH 💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

32. Hugs or kisses? No words can express how I crave any physical contacts with ppl I care about but let's say I have a bit more chances to get hugs,

33. What book are you currently reading? I SHOULDN'T BE READING ANY, as it's exam session time, but I have to admit I'm reading a book about Kazimierz Jagiellończyk's tomb and a super long fanfic (the longest and probably the best I've ever read!!!  ! ! ! !!) between my history of art and sociology books...

34. Who do you miss right now? Boy, whom I don't!!!! I wish I could meet any of my amazing friends soon ;_;

35. What is on your mouse pad? The only one I own is with hETALIA, but my mouse doesn't need a mouse pad, so I don't use any

36. What is the last TV program you watched? The news, as usual! I don't really watch any other TV programmes (I only watch some other politics related ones from time to time)

37. What is the best sound? THERE'S NOTHING BETTER THAN HEARING A BIRD SONG IN JANUARY/FEBRUARY!!!!! ! !! ! ! !I'VE HEARD A GREAT TIT SINGING EARLIER THIS WEEK AND IT WAS SUCH A SPRING FEEL...regardless of the cold and snow outside...

38. Rolling Stones or The Beatles? Both are ok! Just ok, I don't know much about either to be honest :( but both are nice to listen to, I choose The Beatles way more often, though.

39. What is the furthest you have ever traveled? Madrid, probably!! I'm more interested in Eastern Europe, but it still was an amazing trip, we've seen so many amazing artworks there...

40. Do you have a special talent? Shrugs?? ??? ??? ?

41. Where were you born? Cracow!!! An amazing city that you all need to see someday 💪💪💪💪

Idk who has time for tags these days, but I tag (without any obligation, ofc) @tj-dragonblade, @danikatze @lhassinu and @fabledtactician !! I’d love to see any of my mutuals’ replies to these too, so if you feel like answering it, please @ me about it, I gotta read!!!

[flauntpage]

A Pro/Rel Column – Why American Soccer Can Exist Without It

I’ll start by saying that I don’t hate promotion and relegation. I can’t dislike a system that rewards success, punishes failure, and provides opportunity. Stripped down to the simplest of explanations, it sounds very American.

My stance has always been that domestic soccer has unique challenges and considerations that aren’t necessarily fixed by structural changes to the pyramid. There’s no magic bullet here, as some would have you think.

What we get is a noxious clash of ideas with a lot of shouting and idiocy on both sides. Pro/rel advocates froth and whine on social media while those of us on the other end of the spectrum, or somewhere in the middle, are guilty of engaging in the pissing contest instead of ignoring the trolls and seeking out rational thought instead. Just like Capitol Hill, moderate voices and measured takes are often drowned out.

So I think the premise of the column is this –

American soccer doesn’t necessarily need promotion and relegation. I think we can be successful in our current setup, with a closed league, steady growth, and a soft salary cap that promotes pseudo-parity in lieu of top-heavy foreign-framed systems. Let’s fix MLS before tearing the whole thing down and starting over.

The main pro/rel argument basically suggests that opening the pyramid will provide opportunities for smaller teams and result in widespread investment at lower levels due to the removal of the ceiling that limits those clubs. Would-be owners who can’t buy in to Major League Soccer can start a lower division team that has unlimited potential for upward growth. Lesser division one teams, like your Philadelphia Union, can’t be cheap and lazy, or else they go down.

Sounds good in theory, right? Fresh blood and motivation. Jay Sugarman, one of the worst sports owners on this side of the Atlantic, would be punished for his thriftiness with D2 relegation, which would have happened in 2015 after the Union finished with 37 points and a 10-17-7 record. Down goes boring Philly, up comes the exciting New York Cosmos. We punish the underachiever and reward success.

Nothing wrong with that on paper. My stance has always been predicated on four things:

1. There are organic ways to remove owners and executives in a closed system

During that 2015 Union season, the Sons of Ben marched to the gates of PPL Park carrying a coffin with an image of CEO Nick Sakiewicz inside. Painted on the casket were the words “serial franchise killer,” a reference to Sakiewicz’s time with the Tampa Bay Mutiny and New York Red Bulls, the former of which folded in 2001 and the latter which found little on-field success.

This was a grassroots protest from the same fan body that lobbied for an MLS franchise in the first place, starting with a group that gathered in McGillin’s Olde Ale House to discuss ways to generate interest in Philadelphia soccer. In a way, that 2015 protest was a natural extension of the process that started the Union, which was organic and fan-generated. Sakiewicz was removed at the end of the season and Earnie Stewart was installed as the club’s first Sporting Director.

Two years later, Union fans have come to realize that the failures were not entirely Sakiewicz’s fault, as the team continues to struggle after his departure. But the takeaway here is that fans were able to influence the front office even in a closed system with no built-in punishment for under-performance. And if they’re fed up with the team in 2018, they can simply stop showing up, stop buying tickets, and stop buying merchandise. The consumer always has the power, whether he or she realizes it or not.

Another point is that relegation doesn’t automatically mean that ownership and front office problems are solved. Take Hull City, for instance, who are currently in 19th place in the English Championship. Owner Assem Allam bought the team in 2010, saw it promoted twice and relegated twice, and tried to change the name at the same time, angering the entirety of his fan base with one weird decision. Here’s a team on its fifth manager in two years and now trying to stay afloat in the second division after seven seasons of turbulence.

How about Francesco Becchetti, who took Leyton Orient from the verge of the Championship to division five?

Or Ellis Short, the guy who oversaw Sunderland’s descent into irrelevance? What about Mike Ashley and Karl Oyston?

Relegation isn’t an auto-fix for ownership issues. There’s no guarantee that Jay Sugarman or Stan Kroenke would leave town if their clubs took the drop. They can drag it down even further into the mud.

As it stands, their franchises continue to increase in value with the addition of new MLS expansion teams, so they can simply sit on their rear ends and watch their investment grow. Sugarman paid $20-30 million in an expansion fee back in 2010 and that fee is now up to $150 million. I don’t know how much that value drops if Philly takes the fall. If anything, the asking price probably remains relatively high in a system where that franchise can potentially go back up. I think it’s a wash.

What the league can do is guide ownership from within. MLS can certainly pressure cheaper owners to add new partners or increase their financial profile, or run them out entirely ala Chivas USA. You can tweak cap and roster rules to price them out. Look for MLS to start turning the screws a bit once expansion finishes.

Trust me on that one, per sources that have been spot on in the past. I’ve spoken to numerous people who say MLS HQ isn’t exactly thrilled with Union ownership right now. Sugarman sits on the expansion committee and, theoretically, the value of his club should level off at least somewhat when we get to 28 teams.

2. Pro/rel creates top heavy leagues and alternative boardroom objectives

Look at the Premier League table right now, where Manchester City is 13 points clear with a +49 goal differential after 20 games. Might as well hand them the trophy.

They’ve been a pleasure to watch, a team with 18 straight wins and 0 losses this entire campaign. They’re having historic success this season.

Next up is the clump of Manchester United, Chelsea, Tottenham, Liverpool, and Arsenal, who are sort of jockeying for Champion’s League positions. Going into this season, I think those were the six clubs that really had a chance to win anything in the Premier League, which is usually the case every year.

What, then, are squads like Stoke and Watford playing for? 10th place? Moral victories?

The problem with a pro/rel setup that doesn’t have a salary cap* is that only a handful of teams can really achieve anything, while the mid-table clump is irrelevant and the bottom feeders are just trying to stay afloat. That creates auxiliary goals for smaller clubs who aren’t even necessarily trying to win, they’re just trying to remain in the division. And maybe that’s a success for a small team like Huddersfield, which is trying to make progressive forward steps after years in the lower divisions.

But the nice thing about American sports is that everybody, theoretically, is pulling a Herm Edwards. You play to win the game. Sure, teams like Toronto and Seattle are obviously going to be favored to beat New England and Colorado, but at least the lesser MLS teams still have a chance at the playoffs in September and October. This doesn’t turn into a two-team race between Barcelona and Real Madrid seven games in.

For starters, eight different clubs have won MLS Cup in the last 10 years. La Liga has three different winners in that time frame. Same thing in Italy, where Juventus has won six Scudettos in a row. Same thing in… Germany, too, where Bayern Munich has won the last five. In Turkey, only one non-Istanbul club has won the Super Lig dating back to 1984.

1984!

In the prem, it’s United, City, Chelsea, and… Leicester!

We love Leicester. What a story, right? It’s the prime example pro/rel advocates use when explaining why their system makes more sense than what we currently have.

Problem is, a story like Leicester only comes around once in a blue moon. Chapecoense doesn’t happen often enough. There’s a big gap between Eibar and the Spanish top-five. Go around the world and you’ll find that these “small club” success stories are too often drowned out in top-heavy leagues with oil sheikh and Russian oligarch owners. It results in some high quality football at the expense of table slots 5 through 20, which are ultimately pointless unless you care about the Europa League. What we’re trying to build here is not a three-team snooze-fest, but a league with parity and competition.

Let’s take a look at the last nine years of Ukrainian football:

See a pattern there?

I enjoy the MLS system, where every season 10-12 teams can win a trophy. Our league has plenty of ridiculous issues, which requires a separate column, but I like the idea that squads are playing to win hardware, or at least make the playoffs, as opposed to “just staying up” or being satisfied with a mid-table finish.

Let’s check in with the Crystal Palace boardroom:

“Well lads, we finished in 14th place and fired our manager, but at least we didn’t go down! Hooray!”

I don’t like the direction the Philadelphia Union are going in, but I can appreciate the fact that they don’t need to bring in Sam Allardyce to save themselves from the drop. They’re at least committed to a young manager and not going to bail after four months to bring in a “relegation specialist.” Say whatever you want about Jim Curtin, who isn’t the best example for this story, but we can’t be canning coaches at the rate of Swansea City. Caleb Porter went from 1st place in the west, all the way down to 6th, then won a title. Bob Bradley will have a chance to build something at LAFC, not get run out of town at a shit club after 11 games.

Honestly, a lot of this just boils down to preference. Do you like open leagues with unrestricted spending that results in three to four clubs having a real title-winning shot? Or do you like a closed league with restrictions that close the gap from one to 22? MLS, of course, is not the best product out there, but it’s certainly more competitive and interesting, and at least I know that there’s something to play for in October, November, and December. Truthfully, I’m just bored with the Premier League and Serie A and La Liga, where it’s the same shit year after year after year, save for one enjoyable season of Jamie Vardy and Riyad Mahrez. I watch the games and enjoy them in a vacuum, but the title-races leave a lot to be desired.

Now, does pro/rel automatically come with the removal of the salary cap? No, I don’t think so. But are we going to open the pyramid and then tell Miami FC that they can’t spend more than Jacksonville? You can’t cap teams while asking them to be ambitious investors at the same time. The MLS salary cap is waaaaaay too low right now and that has to change. We haven’t even scratched the surface, and we have to get rid of at least 50% of the absurd MLS roster building rules if we’re going to keep moving forward. Again, another article entirely, but I can’t get behind pro/rel entirely until I feel like we do everything in our control to maximize what we currently have. It’s like tearing down a building that’s only half-way finished.

(*I put the asterisk there because, yea, you can go above the MLS cap with a couple of designated player signings. That’s why it’s a soft cap with pseudo-parity instead of a true cap like the NFL or NBA.)

3. We’re not financially stable, yet

Let’s say the Philadelphia Union take the drop. Say it happened in 2015.

Now you’ve got a division two team playing in a half-full, eight-year-old stadium in one of Pennsylvania’s poorest cities. Chester is under a state-mandated recovery program (Act 47) and already pulling from other revenue sources to cover for the $275,000 annual shortfall in county bond payments. The stadium lease doesn’t expire until 2040. The pending litigation over waterfront property (and its valuation) takes a turn. How many people are driving down there to watch the Union play the Richmond Kickers? Every painfully small step to improve that area goes straight into the toilet if Philly goes down.

In a perfect world of Capitalism, you let it fail, right? Just let the market do its thing, which is what our economy is predicated on. That sounds good in theory, but the cost is just too much here. People lose their jobs. The city loses money. Fans stop showing up. The Philadelphia Inquirer pulls Jon Tannenwald off the Union beat to go do high school football instead. 2,000 season ticket holders decide not to renew and the front office lays off 10 sellers. Academy investment is cut back and Bethlehem Steel hemorrhages more money in year number three. It’s like a devastating backwards version of Reaganomics, where nothing is really trickling in either direction.

We don’t have 75 years of history to create a diehard core of supporters who will stick with the club through something like that. If the Eagles go down, no problem. If the Union go down, I don’t know if they survive. This is a 10-year old team and long-term project that already faces incredible struggles, some of which are self-inflicted and some that aren’t, namely the construction of a soccer-specific stadium in a less-than-desirable area during the worst part of the economic recession. Good job by Ed Rendell on that one.

Furthermore, potential buyers know they’re going to take a short term loss on an investment that might not even pan out if the Union never make it back to D1. Sure, they’d probably slap around Charleston and Pittsburgh and remain in the top-half of the table, but there’s never any guarantee here. Portsmouth and Blackburn are where right down? League One? Where’s Charlton?

Here they are:

PROGRESS |

2013: Charlton finish 9th in @SkyBetChamp.

2014: Duchatelet buys Charlton.

2016: Championship relegation.

2017: 13th place finish in League 1.

December 17: Promotion campaign starts to falter, #cafc can’t fill the substitutes bench for a league fixture. http://pic.twitter.com/QqECqGFMeN

— Charlton Athletic {…} FC (@ParodyCharlton) December 26, 2017

People always talk about the rise of new clubs but ignore the fall of once-great clubs. Charlton has been around for more than 100 years and now languishes in the third division while their fans suffer:

“Next on 60 Minutes, it’s the side of pro/rel that they don’t want you to see. I’m Lesley Stahl and I’ll take you to Southeast London, where one of England’s historic clubs is now total shite.”

Is there enough money out there to provide a parachute payment that would sustain an MLS drop? I don’t know, but that same infusion is basically labeled as allocation money within our closed system. It’s all coming from the same source, I just don’t know how much you would need to keep these clubs afloat.

If Wall Street banks were “too big to fail,” then MLS clubs are too fragile to fail, at least the one that plays here. You’re trying to make inroads in the country’s fourth largest television market, not risk the entire thing falling apart. We’ve already taken major backward steps from 2011 until now, with local TV ratings dropping below 1.0 and a slight dip in attendance. The Union have become more and more irrelevant and demoting them to D2 ain’t gonna help.

For years, Major League Soccer’s success was built on the process of slow growth and steady expansion. Seattle came in. Toronto came in. Vancouver and Montreal came in. One or two teams every year or every other year. These are nascent and vulnerable clubs. The fallacy here is that every division one team is some established juggernaut, which is certainly not true. Philly is a venture. The club didn’t even have practice fields or a training complex until two years ago. They used to drive to a public park to train. Now we’re pulling the rug out and jeopardizing a decade of (slow) development in a difficult soccer market just so division five Traverse City can get a shot? Do we want Capitalism or Socialism? What exactly are we looking for here?

Overall MLS attendance has increased dramatically in the last 20 years. TV ratings aren’t amazing, but they’re better than they were. This league has grown by leaps and bounds, but don’t let the success of Atlanta and Portland fool you. There are a ton of challenges for numerous “big market” teams, especially on the eastern seaboard. Revenue needs to increase, our TV deals need to be stronger, we have to do a better job of attracting casual fans, and we have to keep improving the product and create some stability before we risk it with structural changes. 1,500 fans might work in Utica, but it’s not gonna work in Philly. We can’t start turning our attention to smaller auxiliary markets until we gain a foothold in places like Boston, Dallas, New York, Washington, and Chicago. That’s how we negotiate better broadcasting deals and get more eyeballs on the product. As someone who worked in television for nine years, I can tell you that division one Shreveport does nothing at the bargaining table. But if the Chicago market, with 3.4 million TV homes, tunes in to a Sunday afternoon Fire game against Seattle, then partners are willing to sign off on bigger and better deals.

On the bottom end, we need to get teams like Harrisburg (now Penn FC) out of baseball parks and into stable situations. We need to stop sharing college stadiums and we need to continue building on the positives at the USL level. A lot of lower level teams simply do not have the infrastructure and business setup to be viable at division one. MLS is only 22 years old, yet lower division teams that have played less than five seasons are ready for promotion? The cart is way out in front of the horse here.

We’re only just starting to find our feet.

4. You are not entitled to anything

You know what’s more American than a free market economy? Earning your spot at the table.

Sorry, but you don’t deserve a shot to play with the big boys simply because you started a division nine soccer team that plays in a borrowed middle school stadium.

“We want the shit we don’t have and we want it for free!”

It doesn’t work that way. I worked graveyard shift producing the 5 a.m. news in Augusta, Georgia before I earned the opportunity to work at a bigger television station and make more money. I didn’t come out of college demanding $55,000 and a nine to five gig at Action News.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some apologist for the GOP or the “one-percent,” but there has to be a modicum of respect for the owners that took a leap on Major League Soccer back in 1996 and got us to where we are today. Yes, that includes Bob Kraft, who is terribly absent in 2017 but played an enormous role back in the day. That includes Phil Anschutz and Lamar Hunt and everybody else who got this thing off the ground.

If you don’t like it, you work against it. NASL pushed MLS but ultimately blew it. Cross-league jockeying creates competition that forces rivals to up their game. That’s how our economy works. Don’t like Verizon? Go to Comcast. Don’t like Comcast’s horrendous customer service? Cut the cord and stream the game on your Chrome Book. Don’t like your Chrome Book? Buy a Mac.

That’s America. It’s not about free handouts, it’s about making a product that’s bigger and better and more desirable than the other person’s product. And when you fail, sue the shit out of someone! Minnesota and Montreal went to MLS because it meant financial and competitive stability. Carolina, Tampa, and Ottawa saw a path forward in a smarter and less bombastic USL. The NASL shot itself in the foot with a lack of focus and poor expansion strategies (among many other things), then pointed the finger at the USSF instead of looking in the mirror.

And if we want to go down the road of, “well, the U.S. Soccer is a corrupt monopoly that favors MLS,” then go out and lobby for one of the candidates currently running for USSF President. Go be a part of the democratic process and make your case. There are pro/rel candidates out there who can change the game if they win the job. This is your opportunity make your voice heard. We’re still a pay-to-play sport that caters to suburban white kids with money. We need a national team coach. The women’s team isn’t being treated the same as the men’s team. U.S. Soccer has a million problems, but not all of them are directly tied to whether or not we have pro/rel at the professional level.

Just don’t suggest that the American soccer media, which is basically a rag tag group of part-timers, is “in the bag” for MLS or U.S. Soccer. I made less than $25,000 in eight years of writing about soccer ($3,125 annually) and never received a paycheck from MLS headquarters. I think I speak for most writers when I say that my motives were to put something on the resume and do a bit to hopefully grow the game in this country. I didn’t spend Saturday nights in Chester to pad my bank account, I was down there to hopefully play a small role in pushing the Union in a market that traditionally only watches the “four major North American sports.” I’d be flattered to receive bung offers but they just haven’t come. There’s no secret conspiracy going on here, so enough with the accusations of “collusion” and “tyranny” and all of the conspiratorial melodrama.

People with truly productive pro/rel opinions are being done a disservice by the tinfoil Twitter personalities. These guys claim to speak for the movement but they’re really just faux guerrillas fighting a contrarian war against the “establishment.” It’s like Occupy Wall Street, which started out as a protest against, well, Wall Street, then slowly morphed into a catch-all demonstration for the grievance of the day.

Walk away from these people and you’ll see the conversation open up. You can’t make outrageous accusations and then act surprised when the vitriol is reciprocated by myself and others.

Can it ever work?

Sure, pro/rel could work here, but it’s a monumental project. You’re talking about 100+ clubs spread out over a massive geographic region that includes two countries. Are we doing single-table or playoffs? Spring and Fall seasons? FIFA calendar? Is Canada on board? MLS is already on a seven-month, 34 game schedule built to accommodate weather, travel, and the existence of competing sports.

With the partnership between USL and MLS, people talk about doing a controlled, two-division pro/rel system after expansion is completed. I think that’s a start, but the problem there is that a lot of USL clubs are farm teams for MLS squads. Bethlehem Steel exists solely to provide minutes for academy kids and future Union signings, not to win trophies and make money. The team plays in a borrowed college stadium that has no lights. It’s funded entirely by Keystone Sports and Entertainment.

Now, compare that to teams like Charleston and Cincinnati, who have no affiliate and are not owned by a parent club? What now?

If you’re going to do pro/rel, I think you start with these four clumps:

Major League Soccer clubs

independent USL clubs

NASL leftovers and folded teams

USL clubs owned by MLS teams (Steel, NYRB 2, etc)

I don’t know what you do with the fourth grouping. Bring back the MLS reserve league? No idea. I like the idea of playing double-headers where, for example, Bethlehem Steel can get a 90 minute run out against Orlando City B after the senior teams finish their game. That might be a solution.

Then, if you take the first two groupings there, throw #3 a bone, and split the country in half, you’d get something like this:

West

East

It’s arbitrary. I’m just flying by the seat my pants here. But you get the idea, right?

I like four divisions split into two halves of the country, because it cuts down on travel and creates more meaningful games in smaller geographic regions. You’d play a 30 game schedule from March to September, with two teams relegated and two teams promoted every season. You could hand out a trophy for winning your regular season, then do a four to eight team playoff in October between eastern and western teams and award another trophy there. This all coexists with the U.S. Open Cup and Canadian Championship, so it’s basically placing more value on the regular season while still throwing out two more trophies to claim.

Maybe NPSL clubs or new franchises fill the slots that say “team.” There’s room here to add more, but I don’t know where a squad like Reading United fits in. They play at Exeter High School and are an incredibly small operation. Even if that team is promoted to D2 or even D1, that market doesn’t move the needle. Are we closing this off at four divisions in two regions or going further down the pyramid? I don’t know, but I think we need 8 to 10 more years of stability before traveling down this road.

It’s a start, though. I think something like this could work. More rivalry games, easier road trips for fans and media, and single tables that could still theoretically operate with a salary cap. You’ve got possible expansion from 16 teams per bracket, to 18, then up to 20, with room for new blood in ownership. Existing owners will never sign up for anything that could harm their investment, so they give them a five-year window to cash out before we install the new system.

The biggest struggle I have with pro/rel is that I feel like there has to be bridge here to involve investors who want to play a role, people dissimilar from Riccardo Silva and Dennis Crowley, who just want a piece of the pie that they didn’t bake.

That’s the important thing here, we’re selling ourselves short by excluding people who have good intentions and something tangible to provide. I joke about 500 fans showing up to a division four soccer game in Altoona, but we want these people on our side. We have enough obstacles trying to attract the Philly tough guy who could give a shit about the Union but walks around wearing a Chelsea kit. It’s counter-intuitive to divide soccer fans in this country when we already face an uphill climb against NFL and MLB traditionalists.

Right now I think we have four competing factions:

MLS fans

pro/rel NASL types

white Americans who watch foreign soccer but not MLS

1st/2nd generation immigrants who watch foreign soccer, but not MLS (think Mexican-Americans and Liga MX fans)

It’s ridiculous that soccer in this country features multiple groups of fans with contrasting opinions and interests, and that’s the priority here. We need to pull these groups together and find some common ground before we start working on the 65-year-old Phillies fan. He or she is probably a lost cause anyway, but we’re trying to grow the game here with soccer people on entirely different pages.

I don’t like going to bat for folks like Bob Kraft, but I do respect what they did for MLS in the late nineties. And I don’t want to dismiss investors at lower level clubs with good intentions, I just want to weed out the leeches who want a free spot at someone else’s table. I think pro/rel provides opportunity and forces lazy owners to spend, but I also don’t like top-heavy leagues with a lack of true competition. I appreciate stories like Leicester City while also being concerned about the future of a Bolton or Blackpool.

Each system has its own merits, and a lot of this, as I said before, just comes down to preference. Right now, I think we can be successful by improving what we currently have and building on a competitive and interesting league, instead of taking a huge risk by tearing down 22 years of progress and starting from scratch.

          A Pro/Rel Column – Why American Soccer Can Exist Without It published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv