#and I know Liverpool is winning but I’m still stressing

[pretty-inred]

BOTH THE RACE AND MATCH ARE STRESSING ME . AAAAAAHHHHHHH

[chelseachilly]

your love is tried and true blue

pairing: ben chilwell x reader warnings: none word count: 1.1k

this is just a little something i wrote to distract myself from the result yesterday after seeing @carlottawllms request a concept about comforting ben after the loss 🥺 not proofread so sorry for any mistakes!

-

You feel completely shattered when the final whistle blows, Liverpool emerging victorious with the deciding goal in extra time.

Chelsea fought long and hard, but the missed chances kept piling up and they just couldn’t put one in the back of the net. It was devastating to watch as a fan, so you can only imagine how your boyfriend is feeling right now after playing his heart out over 120 minutes with nothing to show for it. 

Knowing Ben, he’ll spend the rest of the night - and a while afterward - kicking himself for not somehow getting the win, which means it’s your job to get him through it. It’s going to be a hard night, you can’t change that, but you can be there for him. 

As you’re still sitting in the hospitality box chatting with his mum and sister, who you came with today, you get a text from Ben.

Ben ❤️ Don’t wait for me, Poch is having a chat with us and I still have to shower and change. I know I told mum we’d do dinner after, but I’m not really feeling up to it, can you tell her we’ll reschedule please?

Y/N Of course. I’ll see you at home. Love you 🤍

Ben ❤️ Thanks babe. Love you too 

Your heart breaks for him, and you really wish he could just blow everything off and come home with you right now rather than face an undoubtably solemn team bus ride back to Cobham. 

“Ben just texted, he said he’ll be a while so we shouldn’t wait,” you tell his family. “I don’t think he’s up for going out to eat, sorry Sally. He’s probably knackered.”

“Of course, dear, I’m sure he just wants to be home with you at the moment,” Sally says, squeezing your hand briefly. “It’ll be a tough one for him to take.”

You nod and sigh, thanking Sally for her understanding before giving her and Alex a hug goodbye and beginning to make your way home. 

The second you arrive at the house you’ve shared with Ben for the past year or so, you set out to create the coziest and most stress-free environment possible. You tidy up a bit and order from his favourite takeaway spot, knowing he’ll be hungry when he gets home but that he won’t want to eat anything unless you force him. 

An hour or so after you got there, you hear the sound of the front door opening again. You set down your phone and make your way to the foyer, the sight awaiting you making your heart splinter even more.

Ben looks completely drained of all energy, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag to the floor. When he sees you, his shoulders slump, the defeat reflected in his sad eyes.

“Hi, baby,” you say softly, taking a step toward him but waiting for him to come to you. 

You don’t bother asking him if he’s okay or what he needs - you already know the answer to both. You know him like the back of your hand, and in times like these, you know that he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. 

For now, he just walks over to you, the long and gruelling game obvious in his slow and slightly laboured movements. He pulls you into his arms, his fists clenching around the fabric of the hoodie you’re wearing.

You hold him just as tightly, lightly scratching his back and whispering words of comfort to him. 

“Thank you for coming,” he murmurs before he pulls back, his slightly red-rimmed eyes making your own begin to water. 

“Of course,” you say quietly, cupping his face with one hand. “You were great, Ben. I know you don’t want to hear it right now, but I’m so proud of you. You captained Chelsea at Wembley. That’s something you only could’ve dreamt of as a kid, and you did it. You led your team to a cup final, and you never gave up.”

“I could’ve done more,” he sighs. “If I stayed on to the end, maybe I could have-"

“Ben, you played your heart out for two hours. Not to mention the fact that you’re still bouncing back from injury and, unlike most of the players out there today, you aren’t nineteen anymore,” you remind him gently. “You staying on probably wouldn’t have changed the result, and you could’ve gotten hurt again. It was the right call.”

He knows that you’re right, but that’s not going to stop him from trying to replay that deciding goal for Liverpool in his head over and over, wondering if he could’ve prevented it. 

“Come on, let’s go lay down until dinner gets here,” you tell him, tugging at his hand. “I ordered from Positano.”’

“Thanks, babe,” Ben says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before following you into the living room. 

You sit down on the couch, opening your arms for Ben to crawl into. He obliges, wincing a bit as he plops down next to you and props his legs up, tangling them with yours. 

“Want me to get you some ice or something?” you offer as he relaxes into you. “I know it was a rough one.”

“Maybe later, it’s not too bad,” he shrugs, though the action causes him obvious discomfort and you begin to massage his shoulders to ease it. “Wish that kid hadn’t tackled me like an American football player though.”

“I wish you played American football, then maybe I would get to meet Taylor Swift,” you joke, successfully making Ben laugh for the first time all day. 

You continue to joke around until he seems a bit lighter than when he first came through the door. After your dinner arrives and you’ve both eaten enough pasta to put you in a food coma, you suggest you both shut off your phones for the night and watch one of his favourite movies. 

It won’t change what happened today, and you know the disappointment of this loss will linger in him for some time, but you’re going to be there to support him. 

Win or lose, in good times and bad, Ben Chilwell is the most driven and persevering person you know, which means he’ll bounce back soon. Until then, you’ll be there to hold his hand and help him remember there’s more to life than football. 

“Love you,” Ben mumbles into the crook of your neck as he’s starting to fall asleep, about halfway through the movie, and you just smile and kiss his messy hair. 

“Love you too, Ben.”

[starrswife]

What Goes On - Ringo x Reader

Friends from childhood, an unlikely pair of Liverpudlians face the challenges of growing up.

-

Thank you @moodysunflowergirl for beta-reading this chapter and being so kind to me.  

I hope you all enjoy this series!     

-

Word Count - 2.1k

Warnings - none

Chapter Summary - November, 1957, Y/n decides to concentrate on schoolwork, but a bored and restless Richard has other plans. 

-

“Doncha half to get back to work soon?” Y/n attempted to ask, mouth full.

Everyday since Richard had dropped out of school, he bought her a pastry from the local bakery and walked her home during his lunch break. At first, the baked good had served as reparations for what Y/n said was, quote, “Abandoning me all alone in hell,” but the tradition continued to stick.

“Nah, my boss let me off early,” he walked backwards to face her, “What do ya’ wanna do? My whole day’s cleared.”

Chewing her last bite, she brushed off her hands of any crumbs. Rich gestured for her to take back the schoolbag she forced him to carry, despite knowing she would just shake her head and make him hold it for the entire walk.

“I’ve got to study, I’m sorry.”

“Again? But you’ve been at it the entire week,” he complained.

“College is a lot more difficult than our old school, Rich. But I’ll go over to yours, if you’d like. Maybe… say, tutor you a bit?”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to face the right way.

“Don’t waste your energy trying.”

She huffed, “Fine, be illiterate your entire life.”

“I’m not illiterate.”

“You can hardly spell.”

“Well, I can read.”

“Oh, lovely, at seventeen years old, you’ve got at least half of it down.”

“Lay off you prick.”

Richard made a move to shove Y/n, but she dodged it, taking off down the sidewalk.

Accepting the stupidly immature challenge, he wasted no time chasing after her.

They maneuvered through pram-pushers who gave them a friendly nod, and business men who scowled at the very sight of their smiling faces.

The icy air felt like blades against her skin as she ran, but with Richie gaining on her, she only sped up the pace. Like usual Liverpool weather, the sky kept at a gloomy grey, and the cobble walkways were darker in color, dampened by the previous night’s rain.

Y/n hopped over the puddles, not wanting to get her oxfords dirty, but Richie couldn’t bring himself to care, charging straight through them.

Reaching their turn and not wanting to give up, Y/n sprinted across the road, Rich following close behind. They screamed out of both fear and amusement when cars honked at them, or shouted, expressing their vexation.

“No!” Y/n yelled, glancing backwards. She tried to speed up, but it was too late. Richard grabbed her arm and pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to keep her from escaping. They struggled to catch their breath, each puff coming out as white clouds, that faded into the air. It proved difficult to do so, while simultaneously in a fit of laughter.

“Let me go!”

“Surrender!”

“Never!” Y/n wriggled around in his grip, but to no avail.

“I won’t until you admit what a loser you are.”

Rich laughed, a high pitched and boyish sound that always evoked a smile from Y/n, even while she was mumbling about how much of an arse he was.

Eventually tiring out, she went limp, fully defeated.

“You give up? Say it.”

“I give up.”

“And what?”

“You win, and I’m a loser! Now get off of me.”

He obliged with a grin of triumph then stepped away, and immediately, the winter air chilled her spine as if a blanket had been ripped off of her.

Was it odd to want the warmth back? To want him to pull her closer?

She walked a bit farther away from him, deciding it was odd.

They fell into comfortable silence, enjoying their peaceful stroll as they usually did when not bantering. As the town led further into Richie’s neighborhood, the houses became more and more decrepit, tiny lots with peeling paint and splintered door frames. Abundant rubble, sad reminders of the war, had become playgrounds for imaginative schoolboys. They had grown used to these surroundings, and now, reaching 10 Admiral Grove, the dirt coated bricks and rusty letterbox had become a warm, familiar welcome.

They hung up their coats and headed up the creaky, narrow stairs to his room.

Rich slung her bag onto the bed and sighed in relief. The amount of textbooks she had to haul around made him glad he’d dropped out.

Y/n sat at the foot of the bed, grabbing her bag and pulling out a few of them.

“Mind if I practice a bit?” Richie asked, already walking towards his drums. His stepdad, Harry, had recently bought him his very own set, and he had become a menace, constantly playing, even into late hours of the night.

She groaned. She loved his drumming, really, but it wasn’t the best background noise for calculus homework. Still, she nodded for him to go ahead.

An hour passed, and Richie was now lying on the floor, twirling his drumsticks. One slipped and smacked him on the face, and he glanced up at Y/n to make sure she didn’t see that. Luckily, she was laying on his bed, fully absorbed in her history notes.

Another hour gone. Richie put on a record and cranked up the volume. Y/n made him turn it down. He resorted to making tea.

Sixty minutes later. His half-drunk tea had gotten cold and now sat solitary on his table. He was laying beside Y/n, flipping through her books and giggling about the human anatomy photos.

By six in the evening, Richard had grown fidgety and impatient.

“Y/n.”

No reply.

“Y/n.”

Nothing.

“Fine. I’ll just take a nap.”

He laid back and sprawled his limbs about the bed, making a point to bother her. With his leg over her back and an arm balanced on her head, she finally snapped at him in irritation.

“What do you want?”

He stared directly at her for a moment, then shut his eyes and pretended to snore.

Y/n pushed him off of her and grabbed a pillow to try to suffocate him.

“Someone help!”

He dramatically writhed around before going limp like a corpse.

Slowly, she lifted the pillow up, peering behind it to see his face, eyes shut with his tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

He snatched the pillow from her and pushed her over with it.

She screamed, stifling her laughs and curling into a ball as Rich whacked her with it, her schoolwork spilling off the bed.

“I hate you,” she stated as he flopped backwards, both out of breath.

“Aww,” he cooed mockingly. She threw the pillow at him and got up to retrieve the things from the floor. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, what?”

“It’s been hours, Y/n. It’s Friday night. Let’s go do something.”

“I look horrible, I don’t want to go out.”

“No you don’t, you always look nice. Can we go, please, please, please, plea-“

“Ok, fine! Let me get ready, will you?”

Like a puppy, Richie sat on the edge of the bed, watching Y/n intently as she stood in front of the mirror, trying her best to brush her wind-tousled hair with his comb. She readjusted her black headband, making sure her bangs were out to frame her face. Once finished, she grabbed a tube of rosy lipstick from her bag, and dotted just a bit on before rubbing her lips together to blend it.

It had to look natural.

Her mother had once told her she looked like a hooker for wearing full coverage makeup, and for some strange reason, she felt uncomfortable doing anything remotely feminine around her father. Even when they weren’t near, the need to appease them stuck.

She turned around, “How do I look?”

“Like a square,” he teased.

Y/n glared, and he was quick to reword his statement.

“A pretty square!”

/

The gusty, evening air was as cold as ever, and the two of them stuffed their hands in their pockets, trying to somehow shrink themselves into the warmth of their coats.

“What did you do at work today?” Y/n asked, shivering.

“Uhm, we really just fooled around. Roy, Eddie, and me.”

“Ah, I gotta see the Eddie Miles band in action one day.” “Actually, we renamed ourselves Eddie Clayton and the Clayton Squares. We might pick up some gigs soon, I don’t know, hopefully.”

“Oh, that’d be fab. I’ll be there for every one of your shows,” she looked up to meet his eye, “I promise.”

Richie smiled. It was small, but sincere and warm. He held her gaze just a bit longer, admiring how she looked under the yellow glow of the lampposts. The tip of her nose was pink from the cold, and the way she looked all bundled up was so... so... adorable.

He cleared his throat and turned away from her. “Thanks.”

They got on the bus to Garston, and as it was Y/n’s turn to pay the driver, she caught up to Rich when she was finished.

Even if the bus was completely vacant, the two ran up to sit on the second floor, racing to get there before it started driving again. It was just another one of their antics.

Finally arriving at Wilson Hall, the two took off their coats and followed the crowd to the dance floor. On stage was a group of rough-looking boys, playing as loud as they could with their makeshift instruments. The audience nearly matched the volume, laughing and hollering as they spun about.

“Well, c’mon then,” Richie grinned, reaching out to grab her hands.

She giggled bashfully as he twirled her, and after a bit, loosened up until the both of them were twisting wildly as if their life depended on it. Richard’s slicked back curls bobbed as he stepped, and Y/n’s circle skirt swayed proudly with her hips.

It was crowded, hot, and stuffy, but while dancing, no one seemed to care. It was electrifying, freeing, and for once they were able to forget about their hardships and stresses.

The song came to an end and the crowd gave an applause, eagerly awaiting for the next band to come on.

“I’m going for a coke, d’you want anything?”

Y/n shook her head, “I’m okay, I’ll wait here.”

Rich nodded and squeezed his way through to the bar.

She stood alone, fiddling with her fingers as the next band started and the couples began to dance.

The music now was more jazz than rock or skiffle, and everyone was paired up, swinging each other around and leaving Y/n to stick out like a sore thumb.

Looking over the room, she thought about how much better the other girls looked than her. Their dresses were sleeveless, their faces glowing with expertly done makeup, and their hair somehow curled perfectly at the ends.

She tugged off her cardigan. Would that help? It didn’t show any skin -her button down blouse preventing it- but at least it took a layer off. She glanced down at herself. Were her boobs not big enough? Nah, they were an all-right size for her age, but maybe just a little bigger would be-

“You alright, miss?”

She gasped, snapping her eyes up from her chest.

There, towering over her, was a man with Elvis-esque hair, a fitted leather jacket, and a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked older, perhaps in his early twenties, and he… just wow.

Y/n was taken aback.

“I-I’m alright.”

“How come a pretty girl like you doesn’t have a partner?”

“Oh, uh, thank you. I’m actually waiting for someone to get back, he just,” Y/n awkwardly gestured behind her, lost for words.

“Mind if I keep you company until then?”

He offered his hand to dance, and with a hesitant nod, she accepted.

/

The trip home was almost silent.

Y/n vaguely addressed why she was gone the whole night, and Richard said it was okay.

After a bit of a search, he’d realized she was with another guy and went off to dance with the other birds too. However, he didn’t know how things had… escalated with her and the man.

He asked if she would step out with him. He was mysterious and suave, and it was exhilarating. How could she say no? But when the nameless man pressed her against the brick alley, hands caressing her hips and waist, a sudden tsunami of uncertainty and panic crashed against her. He was nearing her lips, but the once sensual closeness had become suffocating- she couldn’t do this!

“Y/n, love?”

She blinked out of it.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been staring at the wall.”

Spewing the words before she could think them through, Y/n deadpanned, “Teach me how to kiss.”

[footballerimaginess]

Friends Or More?

Hi there!! Is it possible you could write an imagine on Andy Robertson? Something along the lines of like you have been best friends for years but one day he admits his feelings for you and you feel the same, then he takes you out on a cute date Can’t wait to read it! :) Word Count: 793 Taglist: @meteora-fc​ @lawsandother​ @thestarofthesea​ You were down in a Liverpool from Scotland for a couple of weeks, to come and see your best friend Andy. You had missed him, being best friends for 15 years as you had been to school with him. You had followed his whole career, but due to commitments you couldn’t see him as often. “I have missed you so much" you laughed as you gave him the biggest squeeze. “I have missed you too. How are you? What’s new with your life? tell me" you laughed as he threw so many questions at you. “I’m very good thank you. Nothing new, just the usual going to work. I am looking for my university stuff, I am thinking of heading to do my masters degree. I really think I am ready” you smiled “brain box aren’t you” you laughed as he pressed his lips to your head. “Aww thanks. It’s stress though, I have so much left for work. I still need to process it. I am actually doing this. Like me, who the fuck would have said me going to university first of all. But actually completing it, having such an incredible job and now this is massive” “Never doubt yourself, you are so smart. You deserve all the best in the world my love” he laughs as you sit on the sofa with him. “Aww baby, so cute. Right now, you tell me about you. Going to win the league right? I will have to come down and see you then” you smiled. Andy smirked. “Not yet babe Don't jinx us, anything can happen in football right" he tried to shrug it off, but you knew he was too cocky to agree. But he didn’t want too look smug if he didn’t reply like that. “Sorry I wont” you smirked as you cuddled together. “Y/N Can I tell you something?” you nodded as he turned too face you. “I don’t know how you are going to react to this news, but I have had feelings for you for years. I have always liked you but never told you. But I really like you” Andy blurted out, catching you by surprise as you had never spoke about anything like this before. “Oh wow. I wasn’t expecting you to say that. But truthfully Andy, I have always these feelings too. I have just never ever said anything. I didn’t want to jeopardise what an amazing friendship we have.” his smile appeared so big, like he had the best news in the entire world. “So that is that then. Shall we go on our first date? Maybe I can plan something” Andy suggested as you nodded in excitement. “That sounds great, I am excited to see what you have planned” The next few days Andy was being very secretive and not letting a lot out. “So babe, I am taking you to a cute restaurant in town. I want you to get your sparkly dress on babe” He smiled as you headed upstairs to get changed. You got changed into a tight leather skirt with one of your really cute tops. “That looks adorable, I love your outfit wow” he laughs as you put some lipstick on and made your hair look slightly better than what it was.  “Ready?” Andy asked you as you took his hand into the car. “You look so beautiful” Andy compliments you as you blushed. “Oh thank you. You look cute too” he laughed. “Cheers” You and him got to the restaurant. “I feel like this is something we should have done a very long time ago” you laughed as you sat down at the table. “It should have been, but we are here now. It’s perfectly fine” you smiled. “Have you been here before?” You asked him as the waiter bought over your drinks. “Once or twice” Andy smirked. “Ooh I see, this is the spot you bring other ladies too. Okay see how it is” you rolled your eyes. “Don’t worry babe, you’re the only one that will get a second date” Andy winks. You hid your face in embarrassment. “Don’t try it. You love it babe, you are the one coming home with me tonight” Andy smirks smugly. “Urgh babe, stop. Keep calm and don’t think you are getting in my knickers tonight” you teased him. “Oh I see that’s a bet then okay. We shall see baby” he winks. You couldn't stop smiling, this was the happiest you had felt in the longest time. Just being with Andy made everything better and it was perfect just being with him. It didn't feel weird the fact you were on a date with him. Potentially could be more than just a friendship level. But we shall see.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Sat 1 Jun 🏳️‍🌈

Another big Liam magazine cover and interview out in a couple of days! They posted a teaser and a bunch of adorable pictures today. Lines like "Payne was only 14 when One Direction blew up" don't inspire a ton of confidence in the research staff over at Australian Men's Health tbh but we'll see. The pictures are super nice! The bit they released leans heavily on 1D days stuff (even though they say they were told not to ask him any 1D questions) quoting Liam about the hard parts of those times, about his mental health struggles and drinking too much. He makes a point of putting a positive spin on it, telling people to "embrace your past for what it is and grow from it" but it's rough stuff no matter how you spin it. Everyone talks about how much they want the lost footage and the tell-alls from those days but do we? I think we're seeing little bits of that these last couple years and it's not gonna be pretty when it all comes out. I just hope it's true that Liam is finding ways to heal some from what they were put through, and that the other boys are as well.

Liam liked the tweet of Harry singing to Emma and posted a little promo for the Sept music fest.

The Madrid music festival has confirmed the line up, Liam will co-headline the Sat with Anne Marie and Louis will close out the fest on the Sun. And speaking of Spain...

Louis is still in Ibiza (the place they were papped yesterday was basically Ibiza, just right there) and was seen today at the opening of a club with Eleanor and the lad crew- I was wondering where those dumbasses were. Sure enough, not far off. We know they were already in Spain yesterday, so presumably they were chilling back in Ibiza waiting while the pap thing happened. The gang didn't make it over to Madrid for the footie finals but it was noted that Louis had his laptop with him at the club, maybe to watch? Multitasking! I can relate, I too sneak peeks at the doings in my fandom of choice when I'm supposed to be working. Anyway, the last few days of concentrated and divisive Louis content have large segments of this fandom whipped into a stressed out frenzy with people certain that we're about to see an announcement of an engagement, a break up, new music, a new label, a DNA test, you name it. I have literally no idea what will happen, though history suggests that "absolutely nothing visible to us" is at least as likely as any of these things if not more so. But I do know that none of the signs and portents people are trying to read like tea leaves will give us our answers. We simply don't have enough information about what's happening to guess! That's something that humans as a whole cannot stand and reject and rebel against and try to deny with mysticism and religion and masterposts trying to identify past patterns but none of that will change the fact that we can't know so I'm begging you, please just try to find some kind of zen or something about it! Do a meditation where you chant it is what it is as a mantra or something idk, whatever it takes.

But here's one solid thing to grab onto if that helps (from the other day soz y'all)- The X Factor judges for this year have been announced and Louis is not one of them! There will be some guest judge appearances but the main panel is set.

And in other catch up news (it's been busy!), Harry followed his (awful) friend Xander's sister on ig prompting lots of chatter about his relationship with Xander from certain quarters which is so stupid and unwarranted that I've been avoiding mentioning it but it doesn't seem to have died down yet so there. I mentioned it. Please don't make me do it again.

Meanwhile, Niall relaxed on one of his many beige sectionals to watch Liverpool win the league, I'm sure he was very happy about it.

[kopzone]

Daniel Sturridge’s farewell message

What can I say...

It’s been one hell of a ride at this beautiful club. We were together for 7 seasons and took a lil break in between. We had a lot of high and lows together but through it all remained together knowing that one day we’d have to break up. That time is now.....

I wanna say to the fans I love y’all. You made me feel so welcome and embraced me with open arms. The Sturridge dance became famous at Anfield and I’ll never forget the first time I did it in front of the Kop.

To my team mates old and new thank you for the memories the banter was unreal. You all played a part in making me the man I am today. This isn’t a good bye cause Lord knows we’ll stay in touch no matter where I am so speak soon. To the current group of players just letting you know that Sturr crazy sauces will still be available next season so don’t stress yourselves out the lucky sauce will be back 😂😎

To the coaching staff thank you for everything pushing me to my limits in every aspect to become the best I can be that goes for both old and new. Special shoutout to the managers Jurgen and Brendan for guiding my steps and helping me be the best I can be.

The fitness and medical department. Thank you for being on point through the lowest moments but also the highs. Your time and effort for not just me and the lads has been appreciated. I’m grateful I got to thank you all in person outside of social media. Special mention to Chris Rohrbeck for his work all season. Paul Small “Smally” you’ve been there with me from the beginning to the end and at England national team . Nothing but love and respect for you. Lastly Andy Massey you went above and beyond so thank you so much.

Kitchen staff and everyone at Melwood. Thank you for all the hours you put In Behind the scenes to make sure I was taken care of along with the players. Special Shoutout to my other mothers Caroline and Carol. You both are absolute legends! Lee and Graham thanks making life easier from boots to gear , top men! Ray , Jane , Rachael and Louise. I’ll miss you guys just know I’m forever grateful to you for everything you did for me.

To FSG you guys have done everything in your power to ensure the club has gotten back to the top and it’s been an absolute pleasure to work with you. Special mention for Mike Gordon who was more than just one of the owners but a mentor who has given me advice in and out of football . Tom Werner you’re an absolute boss and I’m still waiting on my cameo in a movie 😂 , John W Henry thank you so much for being incredible with me through my tenure at Liverpool. Lastly Mike Edwards who was a big part in recruiting me to the club . Had some great banter with you over the years 😎

I’m so happy I was a part of the clubs 6th champions league win because all the fans have deserved it for all the support they’ve given me and club during my tenure. I wish you all the best in the future and more success for the club. Like I’ve always said it’s #redordead Thank you for the memories.

Much love Daniel

[girlinthepictureframe]

The Briefest Kiss Part 22

2015

“It’s driving me fucking insane!” Alex tossed the pencil angrily across the room, hitting Miles’ leg with it.   “Watch it,” his friend warned, rubbing the spot he’d hit.

As Miles flipped through the television channels, waiting for time to pass, Alex got up and began pacing the room. He felt overflowing with energy, desperate for an outlet, yet stuck without one. “You could help me?!”

“And risk losing my head?” Miles snorted. “No, thank you. Every suggestion I made, you attacked snidely. You want to finish that song? Do it yourself.”

Alex glared at him for a moment, then slouched his shoulders. He did that. He tended towards harshness when he was stuck and not getting where he wanted to go. But had he been that awful? “I wasn’t being snide.”

“You were ruthless.”

But to Alex’s amazement, Miles didn’t appear offended or bothered. Which could only mean that Miles was used to Alex’s bad behavior by now and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Knock yourself out. I’ll leave in a bit anyway.”

“You don’t have to leave! You can stay here.” Laughter spilled from Miles’ mouth. “I know I can stay, Al. This is my apartment.”

“Oh. Right.” He’d forgotten about that.

“Told you, I’m meeting my mom for dinner. She’s in town with a few of her friends and asked me to meet them.” He smirked. “I’d much rather watch you try and fail with the lyrics b—”

Alex kicked his shin playfully, getting more laughter from Miles in return.  

“But I promised.”

“That means I’m all alone tonight?” He blew out a breath. “Just great.”  

“Meet with Taylor,” suggested Miles.

“I don’t want to,” said Alex. He wanted to be with Miles. He wanted to finish that bloody song, but the beginning refused to come to him, and therefore he couldn't close the ending and it was pissing him off. “Can I stay? Do you have anything to eat?”

“Fridge is empty.” Miles checked the time and got up. “Join me.”  

“Dinner with your mom?” Alex tossed him a skeptical look. “And her friends?”

Miles volleyed back a bright smile. “Do it! We’ll meet at this awesome restaurant. The food is incredible! And I won’t have to suffer alone if you come along!”

Alex grabbed his jacket. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing it. “You can be lucky that I’m so desperate for distraction that even a dinner with your mom’s friends doesn’t scare me off. We’re taking a cab. I plan on drinking.”

“We’re going to have so much fun,” promised Miles. “

By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Alex’s stomach was roaring hungrily.  

“You need a silencer for that,” laughed Miles as his arm slung loosely around Alex’s shoulder.

Alex placed a hand on his belly, embarrassed. “I forgot to eat all day.”

“I can hear! There they are.” Miles, still laughing, lead Alex towards the large table where his mother Pauline was in the midst of a discussion with half a dozen of her friends when she spotted them.  

She got up and smiled warmly, hugging first Miles and then squeezing the air right out of Alex. “What a surprise! I haven’t seen you in so long!” She pinched his cheek. “Just like my Miles. You boys are getting more handsome with each passing day!”  

As Alex rubbed the sore spot on the side of his face, sharing a silent chuckle with Miles, Pauline turned to her friends. “Ladies, this is my Miles. Some of you know him already. And this is his friend Alexander. Call him Alex. He prefers that.”

“Oh,” gushed a middle-aged woman with artificially red hair, winking at the guys. “You must be the lovely little rock stars she keeps talking about!”

“That,” announced Alex proudly, grinningly, “we are. Lovely and little.” He took a seat next to Miles, who was clearly trying his hardest not to burst with laughter. “Nice to meet you, ladies!” Slipping right into his role as a ladies’ man, Alex let his flirtatious stage persona take over. “What a night, huh? Quite excited to be sitting here with all of you!” When he felt Miles pinch his thigh, Alex’s eyes crinkled. “How about a few drinks? Tell you what, tonight is on me! Let’s make the most of it!”  

“Stop it,” whispered Miles warningly, no less amused. “All of ‘em will be wildly in love with you before dinner even gets here!”  

“Let them,” smirked Alex. If inspiration and music refused to come to him tonight, he decided to enjoy the shit out of what was in immediate reach: a fun night out. He glanced at Miles mischievously before turning back to the women at the table. “Did you all hear the latest rumor about Prince William and his Kate? Salacious, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” agreed a tall brunette in her late sixties, who reached across the table and placed her hand on top of Alex’s. “I had no idea rock stars are into gossip! How refreshingly normal!” Her thumb brushed his fingers and Alex bit back a laugh. As was Miles, whom he saw biting his cheek next to him.

Alex was truly beginning to enjoy himself. “You have no idea how normal I can be!”  

“Right down to smelly shirts and dirty socks,” interjected Pauline, getting rewarded with a round of laughter and a blush from Alex.  

Miles leaned into Alex. “Happy you came along, huh?” They smiled at each other.

“Very.”  

“Miles,” asked a woman with an elaborate hairstyle, as she placed a hand on his mother’s arm, “Pauline told us you’re living in Los Angeles? Is this just a quick visit then, or are you around for a while? I’m asking since we all plan on going for a swim tomorrow and maybe you and your friend might like to join us? Unless you’re all booked up.”

Alex bit his tongue as Miles’ cheeks reddened. “Uh, me and Alex…we’re a bit busy at the moment. But enjoy tomorrow.”

“That one,” whispered Alex, as the women collectively began to discuss their plans for the next day, “clearly wants to see you shirtless. Shall we join them? We’re not that busy tomorrow!”  

Miles tossed him a dirty look. “Oh, we’re very busy tomorrow!”

“Come on, Mi! Let the ladies have a bit of fun! Let them see those abs you work so hard for.”

“Feel free to join them tomorrow,” said Miles. “Shall I say that you’re available?” He cleared his throat, about to speak up, when Alex reached over, dug his fingers deeply into Miles’ thigh and glared. He noticed all sets of eyes on him and smiled sheepishly. “Don’t mind us.”

Chattering resumed and Alex scowled at Miles. “That was dirty,” he hissed under his breath. “I’ll get you for that one!”  

“Try, Al. Try!” Miles chuckled.

Alex was laughing despite his attempt to look threatening and angered. Miles always did that to him. He took his agitation and his wrecked nerves and his frustration and simply blew them away. No matter how bad or how annoyed he felt, a few moments with Miles and he was on top of the world again. It was one, if not the main reason he appreciated him so much.  

The waiter approached them and took their orders. The women had clearly decided what they wanted. Miles and Alex, on the other hand, couldn’t settle for a single dish. “Let’s try the chicken,” suggested Miles, “oh, and that one. With the rice!”  

“And that one,” Alex said, pointing at the menu and showing it to the waiter. “Do we need bread?”  

Miles nodded. “Of course. And could you place the salad on an extra platter? Thank you.”

“Oh, a pitcher of water,” added Alex.  

“And two glasses of your best white wine. Ice cold.”  

“Very well. Anything else?” The waiter was frantically scribbling down their order, trying to get all of it.  

Alex looked at Miles. “That’s it for now?”

“For now,” agreed Miles.  

When they were done, Pauline glanced at Miles with a stunned look. “What was that?”

“Our order?” Miles frowned, glanced at Alex and shrugged.  

Alex shrugged, too. “We’re hungry.”

“Oh-kay…”  

“Did we order anything weird,” wondered Alex as he leaned into Miles.  

His friend seemed equally confused. “I’m not sure. What’s that Italian thing you ordered?”

“I think it’s mussel soup.”

Miles chuckled. “Probably shocked you’d order something like that, which is why she’s so surprised.”

Alex laughed.  

The wine arrived first, along with a selection of other drinks that the women had ordered. Miles lifted his glass of wine and held it up towards the center of the table. “May the food arrive in time,” he began.

“And let it be worth every dime,” finished Alex, raising his glass as well. “Anything you’d like to add to that, ladies?”

“Musicians,” muttered the redhead.  

Miles and Alex were back to laughing. Then both took a sip of the wine and eyed each other. “It’s better than one in Paris,” said Alex and took another sip.

“But not as good as the one in Lyon,” stressed Miles. “Liverpool had a good one. But I think New York still stands out.”

“Definitely,” nodded Alex. Last year, after realizing they had a shared habit of ordering white wine no matter the food they were having, they had agreed to always order the best white wine to find out which city and which restaurant would win. A dozen restaurants in various cities and a bit of snobbery from the waiting staff had not yet yielded a clear winner. “Both New York restaurants, actually. We may have to try more in that city.”

“We could go to dinner around Christmas, I’ll try to be in New York then. You?”

“I could pencil you in,” offered Alex. After a bit of conversation with Pauline and her friends, Alex touched Miles’ arm and motioned for the bar. “Look, Mi!”  

“What?”

“A piano. Should be go over and play a tune?”

“No! Absolutely not. This is not the kind of establishment that listens to the sort of music that you and I make.”

“I was thinking we could do Meeting Place. Not a Bad Habits preview. But if you don’t want to…”

“Since when are you so eager to perform?”

Alex didn’t know. It had been a while since he’d done a song with Miles. Sure, they had performed 505 a few times. But there was a difference between that song and any of the Puppets material. “Guess I miss sharing a stage with you.”

“We’ll do shows soon. A few more months and we’ll be traveling the festivals.”

“We should do a small tour as well.” He surprised himself as he said it. Usually, he preferred the studio to a tour. And it hadn’t been that long ago that he’d finished a very, very long Monkeys tour. But he’d never done one with Miles. And who knew when the opportunity would present itself again. “Not a huge one. But some cities. You and me, traveling the world. We’ve never done that before.”

“Do you really want that?”

“Yes,” assured Alex. “Don’t you?”

“I’d love to go on a tour with you!”

“It’s settled then? We’ll do a tour?”

Miles chuckled. “Shouldn’t we ask a few people first?”

“Nah.” Alex shook his head. “We’ll do what we want. It’s you and me against the world, my friend. And if we want the tour, we’ll do a tour.” His hand squeezed Miles’ arm, which he was still holding on to. “See that? Food arrives fast here!”  

“It does!” Miles placed his arm around Alex, pulling him closer. “And look at that chicken! It looks delicious!”  

“Even the salad looks edible!”  

Laughter. “That must be the greatest compliment a salad has ever gotten from you!”  

“What can I say,” grinned Alex. “I’m in a very generous mood tonight!”  

“Oooh,” moaned Miles, mockingly, “are you? Should I take advantage of you, then?”

“What do you have in mind?” purred Alex, still grinning.  

“Well,” whispered Miles, smirking, “when dinner is over, we could leave, head to your place and maybe…you know…” His voice dipped low. “You could lead me to your bedroom and allow me to have five minutes with your new electric guitar.”

Alex’s head dropped on Miles’ shoulder as he was overcome by giggles. “Generous, yes. Stupid, no. Once that thing gets in your hands, I’ll never get it back. You’ll fall in love with it, and you’ll smile at me with your big, gullible eyes and I won’t have the heart to take it out of your arms again! It happened before!”  

“Not with a guitar!”  

“That shirt meant just as much to me!”  

“Oh, the frayed grey one? Still wear it to bed sometimes!”  

Alex felt a oddly happy hearing Miles slept in his old shirt every now and then.

The waiter placed the orders in front of them and between the two of them, four separate plates were meticulously arranged. “Bon appétit,” said Miles, using his best French accent.

“Buon appetito,” replied Alex with his own attempt at Italian. And they dug in.  

“You have to try the chicken,” enthused Miles. “It’s amazing.”

“The noodles are just as good!” Alex took a piece of Miles’ chicken, placed it on top of a noodle and mushed it with the soup that the mussels came in. He placed the fork into his mouth and moaned. “The wine is average. The food stands out!”  

“Let me try that!” Miles arranged his own fork, mirrored Alex’s selection and nodded strongly. “Unbelievable! Here!” He placed the small salad plate nearer to him. “You said it looks edible. So eat some!”  

Alex quickly stuck out his tongue at Miles, but he tried the salad and even though it was painfully grating to admit, he had to concede. “Tastes really good.”

“Imagine that,” chuckled Miles. He dipped a piece of chicken into the mussel soup. “I have a new favorite dish! It’s incredible! I got goosebumps from it!” He grinned. “They should call it goosebump soup!”  

Alex’s eyes got wide. “Honey pie!”  

“I’m not sure I can do pie once I’m done with all of this,” doubted Miles.  

“No!” Alex was overjoyed as he placed his hand on Miles’ lower arm, squeezing it. “Goosebump Soup and Honey Pie! That’s it. That’s the line! For the song!” His smile turned blinding. “I love you! Thank you!”

Miles beamed, coyly grinning. “Oh, you know me. Always spilling genius lyrics whenever I feel like it!”

Alex knew Miles was joking, but sometimes he wished he’d give himself more credit for his words. His friend had a habit of randomly dropping incredible lyrics and not even realizing it and Alex often wondered how much musical perfection had gone lost on the world simply because no one had been around to hear Miles when he’d said it. “I mean it, Mi. I love it!”  

“Here, try that,” said Miles as he held up a fork with a slice of salad dipped in mussel soup. “You’ll love that even more!”  

Alex wrapped his lips around Miles’ fork, swallowed its content and closed his eyes. “Delicious!” He opened his eyes and quickly glared at his friend. “You tell anyone I called a salad delicious, you and I are done!”

“Your secret is safe with me,” promised Miles. He was about to take another bite when he saw Pauline staring at him.  

Alex noticed, too, and felt all other eyes on him and Miles as well. “What’s going on?”

“I’d also like to know,” stated Miles as he frowned.  

“Do you always share food?” asked Pauline curiously.  

“If it’s good, we share,” told Alex, glancing at Miles. “Right?” He didn’t see why that was worthy to be mentioned.

“Yes,” agreed Miles.  

“And the giggling and the touching…?” wondered one of the other ladies. “Oh!” She snapped her fingers. A sign of suddenly understanding something. She leaned in to one of her friends and whispered something to her. Then they both laughed. Afterwards, she smiled at Miles and Alex. “Sorry, we didn’t know. Forget it.”  

Miles squinted, asking hesitantly, “Know what?”

“You and him? Oh, it’s adorable! Pauline, you could have said something. You didn’t have to make up their girlfriends. We’re all okay with a bit of gay here and there! We’re not prude!”  

Alex caught Miles’ eyes and could tell that his friend was barely keeping it together. Laughter was threatening to burst through him. “A bit of gay,” muttered Miles.

Alex snorted. “Only here and there.”

“Oh, boys, don’t make fun of us. You two are such an adorable couple! One can really see the love!”

Pauline was about to speak when Alex curled his arm around Miles, hauled him in and placed a big, dramatic kiss on his cheek. “You’ve got it all figured out, ladies. What can I say? My Miles is the love of my life! My soulmate!” Another kiss on the cheek.  

Miles, at last, succumbed to laughter. “Alex, my boo,” he wheezed, “don’t make me blush!”  

Alex was laughing as well.  

The ladies resumed dinner and Miles leaned into Alex, brushing his lips against his cheek, whispering, “this is how rumors start! I hope you know that!”

Alex was briefly irritated by the jolt of electricity that flashed through him when Miles’ lips touched his face. But he ignored it and smirked. “I don’t mind headlines that call us lovers. But if I read a single line that calls us ‘lovely little rock stars’, I’m losing my shit!”  

“Oh, sweetie pie,” cooed Miles, extremely amused, “I love it when you get feisty!”  

“Rawr,” answered Alex. More laughter.  

-

Present Day

Damn elevator! Why did it have to break today? Ignoring the sweat on his forehead, Alex sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time. He was running late. Damn traveling. And damn traffic! Thanks to that, his morning plans were now reduced to a pile of unsatisfied rubble! He nearly tripped as he reached the last steps. Texting and walking should not be done at once, but sometimes, things couldn’t be helped. “Come on, Mi. Answer!” He was getting antsy. He knew Miles was still at home, but he’d be leaving soon.  

The phone rang. It was Miles. And he blew right past pleasantries. Or even a simple hello. “I don’t have time to text right now. Why are you sending me all those filthy images? I have a meeting with my manager, and then there’s this bloody dinner that the label wants me to attend!”  

He sounded frustrated, even annoyed. Alex ignored that and grinned. “I know.”

More grumbling. “Then stop sending me porn! Getting me hard will do neither of us any good right now!”  

“I have to disagree with that,” stated Alex and finally reached the door. He knocked hard. Impatient.

“Shit, somebody’s here.”  

The door swung open and Alex met Miles’ startled eyes with a coy, little wave of his hand. “Surprise!”  

Miles’ jaw dropped.  

Alex was tempted to take offense. “Nothing? No hello, no kiss, no—”

He got a kiss. Miles moved for his lips with so much vigor that Alex stumbled backwards. His arms tightened around his lover’s neck and he smiled into the heated lip-lock. When Miles parted for air, Alex licked his lips. “That’s more like it. It’s been a week! I missed your kisses. I tried to be here earlier, but things are a mess on the street!”

“Perfect,” said Miles and went for his lips again. And again. “Means I have an excuse to be late.” More kissing.  

Alex began to feel dizzy and more than a little aroused. His hands began to play with the hem of Miles’ shirt. His tongue attacked Miles’ neck with seductive licks. “How late can you be? Late enough for some fooling around?” He wiggled his brows, making Miles laugh.  

Miles covered Alex’s hands with his, halting his movements. “Absolutely not! I have five more minutes before I really have to go.” A deep kiss. “That’s not even enough to begin fooling around!”  

Alex stopped, then, and curled into Miles’ arms instead. “In that case, you’ll have something to look forward to. When will you be back?”  

“Early evening?” guessed Miles. “Got a full day ahead of me. I had no idea you’d show up. You didn’t say anything!”  

“That would have ruined the surprise-part, wouldn’t it?” Alex sighed. “Then again, it would have given you a chance to pencil me into your busy day.” He pressed his nose into Miles’ neck and breathed in, loving the scent. Now that they were no longer fighting the attraction between them, but rather feeding it, Miles had begun wearing his signature cologne again. And Alex was a sucker for that scent. “I’ll just wait here for you. Maybe order pizza. Wallow in my loneliness until my lover returns to me…”

Miles chuckled. “Or you could join me for that dinner?”

“Definitely not,” said Alex, unmistakably. “Industry dinners…I love you, but…”

“Not that much,” smirked Miles.

“Nah,” grinned Alex. “Besides…” The grin got bigger. “It’s still here, right?”

Miles needed a moment to understand, but when he did, his amusement took a hit. “Still in the guest room.”

“Would you mind?” Alex put a slow, deep kiss on his lips. “I’ll be very gentle and kind to it. I promise!”  

Laughter broke free. “Knock yourself out. Have fun while I suffer!”  

“Oh, I will,” proclaimed Alex and kissed Miles so hard that it left him breathless. “Go have fun today! Take your time!”  

“Yeah, I love you, too!”  

-

“Have you been playing for all these hours?”  

Alex sat on Miles’ bed, the vintage Fender placed snugly against his front. His strumming ceased when he felt Miles climbing onto the bed. Adjusting, giving him room to get closer, Alex leaned into his arms as Miles wrapped them around his body. When he tightened his hold on his, Alex sighed happily and sank deeper into his embrace. “I stopped for pizza. How was your day?”

“As boring as you can imagine. Yours?”

“Productive.” He turned his head to his side, giving Miles a lingering kiss, then smiled as he got lost in Miles’ soft eyes. “Finally got somewhere with that chorus that I told you about.”

“Oh, the one for that new Monkeys song?” Miles rubbed his nose against Alex’s. “Can’t wait to hear that!”  

“Can’t wait for you to, either. I sent some rough cuts of it to the others. Matt is already working on the drum parts. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this inspired and eager to write before. It’s all on you. You fill my head with words and notes and emotions and…love.”

Miles leaned in for another kiss. “Always happy to help.”

Alex closed his eyes when Miles pressed his forehead against that of his own. He’d never been one for endless contact, had often considered a drawn out embrace equal to being held captive, but with Miles, he never felt that way. Where, once, he would have tried to gain distance, in order to not appear too eager for his touch, Alex now lingered and hoped his eagerness would shine through.

“Will you do me a favor?” asked Miles, barely above a whisper.

“Anything.”

“Will you play it for me.”

“The new song?”

“Golden Trunks.” Miles met his eyes. “It’s the only song of yours that I’ve never heard you sing out loud. You’ve never played it live. Like, at all. Have you?”

Alex lowered his eyes. His voice dipped low. “I played the notes, once.” When Miles’ arms gave him a squeeze, he felt that glorious warmth that he loved so much. “I was too scared to play it live. I mean, by the time we began performing the record, you already knew that the song was about you. I feared that playing it, giving you a chance to see me sing those words, would reveal all the deep secrets that I had hidden so well in my heart.”

Miles didn’t say anything. He just watched him wearing that look of complete and unconditional love that let Alex feel so very appreciated. Not as the songwriter and rock star that the rest of the world seemed to care about. No. Miles saw his flawed character, saw his insecurities and his fears, saw his arrogance and his neglectfulness. He saw all of what made him far from perfect and he loved him anyway. Maybe even because of it. “You really want to hear it?”

Miles nodded.  

Alex shifted, took a hold of the guitar in his lap and adjusted the instrument. “Hold me while I sing,” he whispered and began strumming.

“So in response to what you whispered in my ear I'll be upfront, sometimes (sometimes) I fantasize about you, too”

As the last notes drifted from the little amp near the foot of the bed, Alex placed his head back against Miles’ shoulder.

“Thank you.” Miles rubbed his cheek against Alex’s. “It’s a beautiful song.”

A smile tugged on Alex’s mouth. “You like that it’s about you.”

Miles bit his lower lip. “Maybe.”

“I should be honest. I fantasized about you so bloody often, the word ‘sometimes’ does not apply.” Alex entwined their fingers and closed his eyes, completely at peace.

After a while of simply enjoying each other in silence, Miles spoke up again, traces of bemusement in his voice. “I got a strange text from Matt today.”

“Yes?” Alex was on the very verge of drifting off into peaceful slumber.

“Told me he was available to be my best man.”

Well…fuck sleep.

Miles, and for that Alex was wildly grateful, chuckled, instead of freaking out. “Did I miss something? Have we gotten engaged?”

“Most definitely not,” stated Alex, inwardly pummeling his drummer. “When I was in LA…” He sighed, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. “The band was joking about who would make a better best man. Jamie said something about my mother wanting us to get married and then – you know how they are! I told them it wouldn’t happen!”

“No?”

Alex spun around. He pinned Miles down with a fiercely inquisitive look. “You want to?”

Miles met Alex’s sharp eyes head-on. “Do you?”

“I mean…” Hesitation. Alex climbed off the bed, began pacing Miles’ bedroom. It was a terribly complex question, which Miles had posed. “We’ve just gotten together!”

“I know,” agreed Miles, who crossed his legs and kept his gaze on Alex.

“Don't you you think we should at least move in together before we even consider marriage?”

“I was under the impression we were living together, already.”

Alex stared at Miles, stunned. They were having a serious discussion about a very complex issue and here he was, bloody smirking and having the time of his live just sitting on that bed. “When have we moved in together?”

“Between us, we have, like, six places. It's not about where our socks live, Al. Whenever we're in the same city, we share a home.”

Fair point, conceded Alex, but…”wait, six places?” He tended to get stuck on the unimportant parts when everything else mattered more. “Two in LA, two in London, one in France, that's five, not six.”

“One in Italy,” spoke Miles. He smiled softly. “Signed the papers yesterday. It's an old house, in the south, twenty minutes from the ocean. It's rusty and antique and not really big, but it's beautiful and full of potential. It has got a huge property along with a small lake.”

“You got a house in Italy?”

“We got a house in Italy.”

Alex just stood there, in front of the bed, fixated on Miles.

“Tell me this,” Miles said, scooting towards the edge of the mattress as he reached for Alex's hands. “When you and I are in the same city, do you even consider not spending your night with me? 'cause I don't.”

“I don't, either,” clarified Alex.

“And when I come to France, do you ever wish I'd stay somewhere else, other than your house?”

“No, of course not. I told you, it's our house.”

“See?”

Alex felt Miles tugging on his hands and he instinctively stepped closer, letting go and bringing his hands to his partner's face, gently caressing it with his thumbs. “So…I guess we're living together, then.”

Miles grinned as he shrugged his shoulders. “I think we do.”

“Is this your way of telling me that we should actually consider marriage?” Alex's voice was low and timid. “'cause it's a big step.”

“Is it, though?” Miles gazed up at him. His arms wrapped around Alex's middle and Alex could feel some of the tension inside of him disappear. “In my mind, you and I are in it forever. You're the love of my life, Al. My soulmate. You're the one that all the love songs are about. I can no longer see a future that doesn't include you. And I know you say you don't care for the marriage certificate and the formality of it all. But I know you. I know you're a big, old romantic at heart and if there's one thing about marriage that you do care about, then it's the symbolism.”

Alex took a deep, unsteady breath. He was still brushing his thumbs gently across Miles' cheeks. “If this is your way of asking me to marry you, I have to tell you, I won't wear a golden wedding band. I'm not into princess cut engagement rings. I won't walk down an aisle. I'm not going to recite a vow in front of a priest. I hate the thought of wearing a tuxedo and…” Another deep breath. “Are you asking?”

“Alex?” Miles let go of him and reached for the Fender next to him. Then he held it up in front of Alex as he slipped off the bed and down onto one knee. “Will you accept this magnificent piece of perfection and do me the honor of spending the rest of your life with me?”

His eyes went wide. “You really are asking!”

“I am.” Miles still held the Fender up. “Will you be mine forever, and accept me as yours for just as long?”

“Yes!” Alex took the guitar, placed it on the ground and climbed on top of Miles, straddling him. “Yes. I will spend the rest of my life with you!” He curled his arms around his neck as he watched Miles' face lighting up with a blinding smile. “Yes.”

“No priest,” whispered Miles against Alex's lips, “no vows and no big show. Only you and me.”

“And a guitar,” grinned Alex.

“Exactly the way it began all those years ago.”

Just like that, realized Alex, they had decided to remain together for the rest of their lives. Maybe they'd do their parents the favor of partaking in a bit of a ceremony to make it a little more official, but to Alex, from this moment on, they were married. He sank his lips against those of Miles' and moaned into the kiss. As his tongue slid languidly against Miles', Alex found that forever tasted finer, better and more addictive than anything else he'd ever tried before.

His fingers busied themselves with Miles' shirt and he smirked at his restless movements underneath him. “Want something, love of mine?”

Miles stretched and barely managed to catch Alex's lips. “You, right now!”

Alex dragged his teeth across his lower lip, wickedly smiling. “I don't know, Miles. Do we really want to start this marriage of ours with sex? What if that will set the tone for the rest of it?”

Miles' hand moved from Alex's thigh towards his rock hard erection and began to rub him. Slow but firm. Alex closed his eyes as his breathing became uneven. “Would you rather we have a discussion right now?” Miles' thick voice crashed against Alex's skin like a wave of pure lust. “Shall we talk about a new record that you discovered?” His lips traced the line of Alex's collar bone with feathery kisses. “Or a book you read?” He licked the first traces of sweat from where it gathered on his skin. “Or a—”

“Fuck me!” Blurted Alex and pushed himself hard against Miles' hand. “Fuck me right now!” He was desperate for more friction. Yet, all he got were chuckles.

“Shall I tell you about that band I heard?” Running his fingertips lightly down the line of Alex's spine, Miles kept teasing him. “They are very…”

When Miles' hand dipped below the waist of his trousers, Alex lost it. Pushing him backwards, he hovered over him as he stripped out of his shirt. “Fuck. Me.” His head dipped down. His lips attacked Miles' with a vicious, almost bruising kiss. “Understood?” He never felt bad for being rough and passionate and unrestrained. He knew Miles was strong and hard and could take it. He loved that part about being with a man. It was a match of equal strength. And Miles carried the same fire inside of him.

Miles flipped them over swiftly. “Understood.” He quickly rid Alex of his pants and underwear before rolling him over. “Tell me how you want it!”

Alex arched his back as Miles slipped a finger deeply into his ass. “Wild!” He was gasping for air. “Wild and…oh God! Don't stop!”

“Never,” whispered Miles, nibbling on Alex's earlobe and continuing to pleasure him.

Half an hour later, Alex lay on the floor of Miles', or, rather, their bedroom and stared at the ceiling, trying desperately to catch his breath. After a few successful attempts of getting his lungs filled with air, he let his head fall to the side, glancing at Miles, who lay next to him, equally naked and just as spent. “Did you know there's a video of us making out in that club we went to on your last day in Paris?”

Miles shook his head.

“Saw the screenshots of it earlier today, in some gossip rag, when I arrived at Heathrow.” Alex reached out and linked their hands together. “After weeks of speculation, they finally have their proof that Milex is real.”

“You got to stop saying that!” Miles was laughing. “My mother called me yesterday and asked me what it meant! Turns out you said it to your mother, who tried googling it and accidentally landed on a website that was full of Milex fan-fiction!”

“And images,” added Alex. “My mom called me, too, and asked me why I needed so long to figure out you loved me when all she had to do was look at those images!”

“Was it really that obvious?” wondered Miles.

“Seems that way.” Alex smiled. “Maybe we didn't want to see it?”

“Or, maybe, we were too dumb to see it?”

“That's most likely!”

“Suki and Alexa made a bet about which one of us would fall first for the other one.”

“So everyone but us knew all along?”

“And now,” said Miles as his eyes landed on the Fender, “nobody but us knows.” He curled up against Alex's side and kissed his cheek. “Mine forever.”

Alex wrapped his arms around him as he pulled him closer. He tipped his head to the side, touching their noses together, and smiled. “Mine forever.”

The next part will be the epilogue. This story will come to its ending and I’d like to thank all of you for your love and kind words. Maybe you’ll be happy to know I’m working on a new Milex story. That one will be slightly AU. It’s my take on what might have been if Al and Mi had never become friends. :)

[mrmrswales]

Prince William has hit out at British football clubs for treating young players as “financial assets” without caring enough about their mental health.

The Duke of Cambridge – who rarely points the finger of blame – last night said clubs were guilty of a “dereliction of duty” and called for radical changes in the game.

Wills, who is President of the Football Association, said: “Many players come from difficult backgrounds and may have all sorts of issues. So just to have them as a complete financial asset...it’s a dereliction of duty.”

The Prince was was applauded for his bold stand last night by Mirror Sport columnist Robbie Savage, who said: “It can only be a good sign Prince William, who genuinely cares for the game, is taking such an interest.

“This summer, dozens of teenagers who dream of a career in professional football will be released – and it’s important that they are not simply left to pick up the pieces.”

The Prince warned that too many clubs simply drop young players if they fail to reach a required standard, with no thought as to how to support them in building a new life.

William, 36, made the astonishingly candid comments during a meeting at Windsor Park, the home of the Irish Football Association in Belfast, on a two-day visit.

He told of his despair at the way players are discarded, saying they should be “supported” instead of being told to “move on”.

He said: “Some clubs don’t do anything about mental health. We’ve got to change the whole way we look after players.

“Many players come from difficult backgrounds and may have all sorts of issues going on. So just to have them as a complete financial asset...it’s a dereliction of duty, I think.”

William’s comments to members of Ahead of the Game, an organisation that delivers mental health support to grassroots football clubs are sure to hit home across the game – especially as so many names have been hit by mental health issues.

The community leaders told the Duke of the perils of young players being sold a dream after being signed up to football clubs with the lure of making it to the Premier league and earning millions of pounds.

The pressure youngsters are put under to succeed can often lead to crippling bouts of anxiety and depression, especially when they are “let go” by the clubs with little education and no future.

William’s comments have been echoed by Michael Bennett, the Professional Footballers’ Association’s head of welfare.

It emerged last year that a record number of players approached the body for support with mental health problems.

He said: “Clearly, not everyone is earning £100,000 a week.

“But there are things you don’t see; players could suffer an untimely death in the family or suffer a serious injury.

“Money isn’t going to stop emotional feelings surfacing.”

Former England and Liverpool striker Stan Collymore was deluged with support yesterday after revealing his latest bout of depression has left him “staying in bed for 20 hours a day”.

The Mirror Football columnist has suffered with mental illness for a number of years.

He described his current state in an emotional Twitter post this morning, saying: “Last 3 wks I’ve been in bed sleeping 20 hrs a day,stinking to high heaven, unable to wash.

“2nd worst bout of D (Depression) of my life filled with a longing to never wake.

“Today I’m going to the gym. To fight back.

“If you’re struggling, you’re not alone, and it will pass. Stay in the game.”

Burnley winger Aaron Lennon has also spoken publicly about his battle with depression.

The former England star was playing for Everton when he was diagnosed with a stress-related illness and sought help with experts at the Priory Hospital in his fight to get his life back on track.

William, who is in Northern Ireland with wife Kate until this afternoon, also highlighted the case for providing more support to the LGBT community in sport.

Revealing he has discussed the possibility of staging a “Mental Health FA Cup”, the Duke said: “We’re working on something with the FA at the moment, trying potentially to get a mental health FA Cup to have a really punchy campaign we can base something around

“I’m still intrigued and trying to understand, because no-one’s done any surveys, how much the LGBT community is linked in to the mental health problems in football.

“Are people being put off football because of LGBT reasons? Is it not integrated well with mental health issues within sport?

“I don’t think we’ve explored enough or know enough.”

Dad of three William has spoken openly of his own mental health battles being a helicopter pilot in the air ambulance.

He spoke of the benefits of the network of support he could rely on when dealing with the after effects of attending distressing road traffic accidents involving children.

In a discussion, in a meeting room at the stadium, he also raised questions about the next generations of sportsmen and women, wondering aloud about their resilience.

“We’ve been thinking about the stats and the evidence recently,” he said.

“Are we setting up some of our children at the moment for more mental health issues in the future, by the way we are creating a win-win situation and scenarios?

“I’ve been hearing that a bit recently and I’m trying to get my head around how we do it.

“Because resilience has to be built within everybody.

“From a very very young age, nobody wants to be told they’re not good at something but of course that could prove a difficult situation to handle when life comes along with school and jobs and so on.

“How do they learn to pick themselves back up again?

“When they lose a match, you’re gutted. But that’s part of what sport is all about. Every sportsman and women knows what it takes to be at the top of their game.”

[walkonwalkonwithhopeinyourheart]

EXCLUSIVE: ‘The Barcelona miracle will stay with me forever… but so will the anger and emptiness of watching Madrid lift the trophy’: Jordan Henderson on how Liverpool have bounced back from last year's Champions League misery via /r/LiverpoolFC

EXCLUSIVE: ‘The Barcelona miracle will stay with me forever… but so will the anger and emptiness of watching Madrid lift the trophy’: Jordan Henderson on how Liverpool have bounced back from last year's Champions League misery

The road to a major final rarely runs smoothly and Jordan Henderson knows that better than most.

Liverpool’s journey to the Wanda Metropolitano has been full of highs and lows and Henderson, the club captain, has lived them all.

Ahead of Saturday’s showdown with Tottenham, Henderson - who will become only the fifth English footballer to skipper a team at consecutive European Cup finals - gave Sportsmail a unique take on the past 12 months and explained why Liverpool are ready to go one step better.

DEVASTATION

Saturday, May 26th 2018; Olympic Stadium, Kiev. Liverpool 1 Real Madrid 3

How does it feel to lose a Champions League final?

'God (puffs out his cheeks)… good question. I remember the final whistle and dropping to the floor. The immediate emotion is disappointment but quickly it becomes frustration, anger, emptiness.

We were in the game then it was gone. Nobody can help you, nobody can say anything to make it better.

We put so much into getting there and then the night boils down to standing in a group, watching Real Madrid lift the trophy.

That was hard. So, so hard. Part of you wants to run to the dressing room but you have to pay your respects to the winners no matter how much it hurts.'

NEW BEGINNINGS

Tuesday, September 18th; Anfield. Liverpool 3 Paris St Germain 2

'So much had happened since we had played Madrid, not least the World Cup.

I was asked before we played PSG, our opening group game, whether it felt like we had unfinished business in Europe but you don’t think like that, certainly not in the first group game. All we wanted to do that night was make a statement.

Looking back on it, we played brilliantly. The tone was set early on when Milly (James Milner) flew into Neymar and flattened him with a tackle and we went from there.

It didn’t feel like a group game; the atmosphere was amazing and the way we won it was even better.

Bobby (Roberto Firmino) came off the bench to score in injury time and it was the perfect start.

Everyone had PSG down as favourites for the tournament but we came up with a performance that showed reaching Kiev was no fluke.'

TROUBLES

Wednesday, October 3rd; Naples. Napoli 1 Liverpool 0; Tuesday, November 6th; Belgrade. Red Star 2 Liverpool 0

'Our two worst performances of the season. There was no intensity, no rhythm. It wasn’t good at all. When people ask me what Jurgen Klopp is like in such circumstances, I think they expect me to say that he screams and shouts and he goes mad but that just isn’t the case.

He’d rather wait a day or two, watch the match again on video, then get his point across without too much emotion.

To be fair, we knew ourselves that neither of those games were good enough and we had fallen way short of our standards. Belgrade was a kick up the arse.

I couldn’t go to Belgrade because I’d injured my hamstring. There is no worse feeling than watching the lads on television. It’s worse than being at the stadium. Either I have my hands over my eyes when they attack or I’m shouting when we get a chance.

In the past, I’d let defeats eat away at me but I’ve got two little girls, Elexa and Alba, who quickly get me back on track. I can’t sit there sulking at breakfast when they are asking me to play with them, can I?'

RESCUE ACT

Tuesday, December 11th; Anfield. Liverpool 1 Napoli 0

'Everything was on the line after we had lost 2-1 to PSG in Paris but big players step up on these nights.

Mo (Salah) scored a brilliant goal but the thing I remember most was the save from Ali (Alisson Becker) in injury time (from Arkadiusz Milik). I still don’t know how he made it.

That moment shows why the manager wanted to sign him. Honestly, I can’t speak highly enough of him.

He is an unbelievable ‘keeper, he’s won the Golden Gloves but he’s an even better lad. Without that save, we are in the Europa League after Christmas. You can’t stress the importance.'

STATEMENT

Wednesday, March 13th 2019; Allianz Arena. Bayern Munich 1 Liverpool 3 (aggregate 1-3)

'A brilliant performance, one that I think made everyone look at us as contenders again.

Everyone felt Bayern were in control after they drew 0-0 at Anfield but we blew them away and Sadio (Mane) was unplayable. He certainly made the experience of watching the game much more comfortable.

I damaged my ankle ligaments early on. The last thing you want is to come off early in such a game and I knew the bench were looking over at me to try to get my attention.

I literally could not put the brakes on when I was running, so I had no choice. Thankfully it wasn’t serious.'

PROGRESS

Wednesday, April 17th; Estadio do Dragao. Porto 1 Liverpool 4 (aggregate 1-6)

'This wasn’t straightforward. We won the first leg 2-0 but in the first 45 minutes over there, you could really feel the pressure in the stadium.

We were under pressure and it would have been an interesting night had they scored the first goal.

In the end, it was comfortable but there were no great celebrations in the dressing room afterwards.

I know it’s a big thing to reach another semi-final but, as we were trying to win the Premier League, the first thing you would hear said was: "On to the next one". You don’t sit back and admire things when you are here.'

DESPAIR

Wednesday, May 1st; Nou Camp. Barcelona 3 Liverpool 0

'I would be lying if I said I wasn’t hurt before this match. I felt sick not to be named in the starting line-up but, as hard as it is, you cannot put yourself first.

When you are the captain of Liverpool in a European semi-final, the team is the priority and always will be.

As it turned out, I came on quite early as Naby Keita got injured. It was the first time I had been on a pitch with Lionel Messi.

You don’t think to yourself "Oh my God - that’s him" but there’s no question he plays the game differently to when you see him on TV. He’s so fast.

Thinking about his free-kick now, I still can’t believe he scored it. I actually thought he was going to take it short.

I’ve told you how good I think Ali is but Messi put that shot in the one area Ali couldn’t protect. The whip, the pace, the precision - it was absolutely perfect. Did I think about asking for his shirt? No. I’ve never done it.

Roy Keane told me when I was at Sunderland that if you ask for someone’s shirt, it looks like you are in awe of them.

As it turned out, I came home with Luis Suarez’s shirt. Luis is a good lad and he gave me it as a gesture as we had played together for Liverpool. I don’t know what he’s done with mine!'

MIRACLE

Tuesday, May 7th; Anfield. Liverpool 4 Barcelona 0 (aggregate 4-3)

'The manager’s speech on the morning changed everything. We had a meeting at Hope Street Hotel, the base we use before every home game, and he said to us: "What we need to do tonight I would say is impossible but, because it is you, there is a chance."

He had us straightaway. All through the day I was thinking to myself: Anfield… the crowd… an early goal: maybe?

As it turned out, it worked to perfection. I should have scored our first goal but, thankfully, Divock (Origi) was on hand to put in the rebound. I’ve never heard anything like it.

There was no way I was going to come off that night. I hurt a tendon in my knee in a tackle but I knew if I could manage the pain and reach half-time, I’d be OK.

I had injections and painkillers and jumped on the spinning bike for 10 minutes to stop my knee seizing up.

What happened afterwards will stay with me forever. It completely different experience to Roma the previous year, where we got to the final by hanging on.

I had a bottle of Fanta when we got to the final 12 months ago, this time it was water! I tried to sleep when I got home but it was impossible.'

OPPORTUNITY

Saturday, June 1st; Wanda Metropolitano. Tottenham v Liverpool

'I know the lads at Tottenham from being with them at England. I know how good they are. But this is a new chapter for us.

We are a better side than the one that played Real Madrid in Kiev and there is no need to use that experience as motivation.

We want to show everyone how far we have come. We want to grasp this opportunity.'

(Dominic King)

Submitted May 28, 2019 at 10:15PM by x77aca77x via reddit http://bit.ly/2YVSs43

[torentialtribute]

From Hull council estate to Wimbledon: Paul Jubb lost his parents… now he’s making his grandma proud

If Friday's Wimbledon draw pits him against Roger Federer or Novak Djokovic the journey from Hull council estate to the Center Court will most likely be complete for Paul Jubb.

The 19-year-old himself is, however, more interested in being handed a first-round opponent he can realistically beat next week.

'I would like someone who I have more chance of winning against. "Just going to compete really hard like I always do and enjoy the experience," he said on Thursday.

Wimbledon have handed Paul Jubb a surprise wildcard after he won the US college title

Whoever he plays, on whichever court, he expects his 77-year-old grandmother Valerie to be watching, with her heart rightly swollen with pride.

She brought Jubb up from the age of four after the death of both his parents. His father, a former soldier, committed suicide after suffering from post-traumatic stress and his mother also died young.

He has their names, Sean and Jacinta, tattooed on his ribcage, but understandably it is not a subject he chooses to engage in.

'My parents are not with me any more and I think that is basically where I draw my line. It's known and that's really, "he said on Thursday, sitting across the way from the Center Court, on which he has yet to set foot.

Jubb's father, a former soldier, committed suicide after suffering from post-traumatic stress

He is more expansive about the rest of his journey, some of which has become more known since last month, when he won America's prestigious NCAA college championships representing the University of South Carolina.

That earned him a main draw wildcard. Recent results on the grass suggested his athletic baseline game makes him well worth it, as he beat top 100 caliber opponents such as Denis Istomin and Andrey Rublev.

When he steps out at SW19 he wants to win as an act of gratitude to all those who have helped him.

'A big thing for me is just making the people who have helped me along the way proud. A lot of the reasons why I push myself so hard for myself but a big reason for those people who have invested time into me. "

The 19-year-old became the first Brit to win the NCAA men's singles title last month

More than anyone he means Valerie: 'She's a huge influence. She's put so much work into raising me, acting like a mother, father, she's a huge rock in my life. She's put in so much work. I imagine she’ll be very proud. It's very nice and I'm just happy she can see me playing at Wimbledon. "

Most of Jubb's peer group back in Hull grew up playing football or rugby league, but he was destined to be different.

'When I was younger I played more football than tennis. I was pretty good. "I think there was a bit of interest from Hull City to go and have trials but I never ended up going because I didn't want to stop tennis," said Jubb, who is actually a Liverpool fan.

Having bone spotted on court at primary school went to Hull's Nuffield Tennis Academy, where Kyle Edmund also spent time as a youngster.

Jubb Hull's went to Nuffield Tennis Academy, where Kyle Edmund (R) also spent time

A big inspiration, it turns out, is world No. 39 Frances Tiafoe. His parents moved from war-torn Sierra Leone to Maryland in the US, where his father became the janitor at a tennis club.

"About 14 or 15 I was watching a load of stuff or him on YouTube," said Jubb. "His background was pretty tough. He child or had a similar thing. I remember having a cheesy conversation with Jonny Carmichael, my coach in Hull, saying if this guy can do it I can do it as well. So from that point on I was fully invested in doing whatever I could progress.

"You could see how much he (Tiafoe) loved the game and how hungry he was to make the pro tour. That was the same hunger I have now – it was just very relatable. That's why it was so inspirational for me. I've hit with him and we're actually friends now, it's been really good to make a connection with him.

The youngster's journey from Hull council estate to the Center Court could soon be complete

'I did have an internship when I was younger when I did get a little self-pitying. Jonny Carmichael was always like, "" This is your situation and you can't change it, so if you are not going to get anywhere else. " You've got to make the most of what you've got and from that point on that's always the mentality I've had. "

Jubb's debut Wimbledon appearance guarantees him a minimum of £ 45,000 in first- round prize money, and an added complication has been working out how much he could take due to strict NCAA rules on amateur status.

The still intends to complete his degree in retail management next year and so must abide by them , but can still use much of it for allay travel expenses for his tennis.

Asked what would make him leave the college he clearly loves – where he arrived at 16 not knowing anyone – he replied: 'If I won Wimbledon maybe! I don't feel a rush right now to go on the pro tour. I am still developing physically. "

Jubb waves to the crowd following his defeat to Taylor Fritz at Eastbourne on Monday

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[deztinywarriors]

The Linked Charms - Episode 17 (Multi Liverpool players)

[kovacissues]

I Love You Like a Love Song (Rakidric) Chapter 1

A/N: this is not gonna be as long-running as There’s No Way I’m Falling, unless you want me to. This is in the same universe, but you don’t have to read one to understand the other. (However you will get to know some characters more...) also, this chapter is kinda boring but it’s like the introduction.

Warnings: Heartbreak, The 3 guys who did the thing...

Chapter 1

Being back in Barcelona was such a different experience to Ivan, he had been with the Croatian guys all summer more or less and now he was suddenly alone. He had all his buddies in Barca too but, none of them was Luka, or Lovre or Mario, or any of the guys. He looked back at all the photos he took, from the wardrobe, the buses, the planes, the hotels. The last was the most important, the hotels. He got to share a room with his best friend, Luka, and he had had the time of his life.

“My girlfriend is moving to Liverpool” Sergi whined as he entered the dressing room. Ivan had thought to himself numerous times that the relationship couldn’t have been going a good way since Sergi had told him that she started to refer to him “as a brother to her”. but he decided not to say anything as to protect the younger man’s feelings.

“Are we talking about the same girlfriend who calls you her brother’s childhood friend?” Pique shot in and they could all see Sergi’s head falling, as he probably understood that their relationship was doomed to fail.

The Croat had even felt like she was the female version of Sime Vrsaljko when he had met her,  but right there and then he couldn’t remember neither her face nor her name. “seriously Sergi, you should have a long talk with her, but honestly I don’t think you have a future” he had never been this straightforward with anyone, like ever. Ivan was used to being shy of conflict, well outside of the pitch that was. However, now his friend needed a visit by the cold hard truth.

---

He had never seen someone crying that hard before. “Sergi, she literally still calls you every.single.day and now she asked you for advice about work” Ivan tried to comfort him, at the same time as he was texting with his friend Dejan about… Sergi’s ex. He felt so horrible for pushing her on Dejan, but at the same time they would be a perfect match and he needed someone to make him forget about Anita.

“I just… miss her” Sergi stammered as he was putting on a sweater after their hard work out. Ivan really wanted to understand how he felt, but he had never felt that kind of connection with anyone. He had literally never had a relationship that got that serious, he had never been heartbroken. Everyone kept telling him that it was just because he hadn’t found the girl of his dreams yet, but he had a feeling that would never happen. Not one single girl had ever made him feel the way everyone keeps telling him it’s supposed to feel.

“Sergi, breathe… it’s not the end of the world” wow that was a little harsh.

“Ivan you don’t get it! I feel dead on the inside!” he knew it would be rude, but he was so sick of all this lovesickness that his friend was spewing out all over the room, so he just left the dressing room and went to his house.

If the training grounds had felt lonely, that was nothing compared to his house. Most his friends had kids, or wives or at least girlfriends, he had a dog. Obviously, Lucia was the best thing that had ever happened in his life, but at the same time she was ‘just a dog’. To him however, she was the most perfect creature in the entire world. With long hair and she was so small and he loved her so so much.

The boys loved making fun of him for being a ‘Crazy dog owner”, who brushed his dog’s hair and dressed her in dresses and just made her the cutest version of herself. It was easier to get away with styling her than to be too stylish himself, he thought, so why not treat his princess?

There was only one person in his life who would beg to get pictures of Lucia, every day. Luka Modric lived for seeing the cute little Yorkshire terrier, wishing he would ever be so brave as to get one of those beautiful creatures. He had thought about it once, but when he had mentioned it his father had just asked him if he was gay and since he was sure he wasn’t, no doggo for Luka.

Seeing the pictures of Ivan’s dog, however, made him feel like at least he got to see one of them up close. It was something almost therapeutic with waking up to fifteen snaps of Ivan cuddling with her every morning, at the same time, he hoped he could be there with them.

---

Luka had also had a hard time adapting to life after the World Cup, Spain just wasn’t good enough after he had spent all that time with the guys in the national team. Of course, he still got updates from them every day, still he wished he could be spending more time with them… face to face.

It didn’t help anything that his childhood friend, Suba, had decided to retire from the team, or when Mario and Vedran had done the same. But at least he still had Ivan, the best friend a guy could ask for. The long nights in the hotel room, discussing strategies for upcoming matches or falling asleep holding around each other because they had cried from the unbearable stress. He missed the connection the two of them undoubtedly had.

Something about Ivan just made him relax. Maybe it was the way he could always calm him down after a bad dream or match, or maybe because he was calm and collected when everyone else went batshit crazy after a win. Whatever it was, it felt safe, Ivan felt safe.

He remembered those classicos where he had seen his best friend look like he was about to murder him, and he was pretty sure if anyone was to be that scary on the field, it would be Raketa. He had never realized why people focused so much on Mandzo being ruthless, had they ever seen Ivan. That was passion, it was drive, putting everything in himself out there on the pitch for his team or country.

Protected. That’s how he felt whenever Ivan was near him while playing. Be it el classico or playing together for Croatia, he knew the younger man would take a bullet for him, as he also would for Ivan. Everyone kept making jokes about them being like a married couple, but as much as he didn’t like being called homosexual, he didn’t mind being called Ivan’s hubby.

“Goodnight Lukita” Gareth bid him, making him realize that he was still sitting in his boxers in the dressing room. One quick glance confirmed his hypothesis, it was just him and Gareth.

“Goodnight… see you tomorrow” he said with a smile as he looked more at the phone than his friend. Twelve snaps, from Ivan, this would be a good night. Watching the dog and her owner, dreaming off about how it would be if he one day could be able to have a dog like that.

[seatsbythepit]

thoughts on ornstein's summary thing?

Okay, anon, I gotta admit my head has been whirring on this one, I’ve been thinking about your question the whole time I was at work - and I would like to apologize in advance, because it was 100% more eloquent in my head than in the words I’m about to write.

First and foremost, I have to make two “disclaimers”:

The first being that we should all keep in mind that David Ornstein is, at the end of the day, a reporter with sources at the club. He has often been reliable, tends to post only when he’s fairly certain of his information, and probably takes his info in good faith, however we do have to take any and all information (i.e. how certain deals happened, mood of the players/club etc.) with a pinch of salt, purely because only the people who were actually there would know what was said and done etc. But we can of course draw our own conclusions from the actions of the club, past experience, etc.

The second: I am not particularly a good stats/data person, nor do I have a great capacity for economics, I have basic understandings but I can’t venture too deep - so my thoughts come from a more observational/analytical perspective purely from what I’m seeing/hearing/understanding. So, apologies again to anyone who wants me to delve into the mathematical and statistical minutiae of our club, I don’t feel I could do that justice.

So, let’s proceed under the cut because this is going to be fairly long I imagine.

🔽🔽🔽

To address what I think of what Ornstein has presented us with: It is nothing too surprising or shocking. For some this will warrant an eye-roll, for others it may it reignite anger/frustration at the absurdity of our board, there will be some hurt/disappointment with certain players or certain transfers, or the lack thereof in particular positions - and perhaps even some room for consolation or reasoning. But ultimately: Nothing totally new.

(And I have to stress, we will all view the First Team’s situation, and in part some of the academy’s involvement, in different ways - we will come to some similar and some different views, all of which may be right/wrong to different extents. I can only speak for myself when I discuss this.)

I think the transfer window started out fairly well, we sealed Lacazette and Kolasanic in time for summer tour - two very good players, both high achievers in their former leagues. We had some backroom changes too, to coaching staff and to our legal team - nothing too spectacular there, but a little “fresher” to start the window’s activity.

The disappointment comes where deals/transfers were dragged out, things kept getting changed, and ultimately, we perhaps lost/gained in places where we were looking to do the opposite. There of course will be the January window, but I think accompanied with the context of losing our last two PL games a lot of people do not take kindly to indecision and hesitation - though it is granted the influence of other clubs/players on the other side of business will have contributed in certain areas.

All in all, I don’t think too much else would have happened in the window even if we had got 3 wins in a row, maybe one more signing of some notoriety, but nothing too big. (As the Ornstein Recap alludes to, without Alexis’ sale there was no room to budge in terms of a “big” signing [in all honesty I don’t subscribe to the idea that it has to be big or expensive to make a difference, but we could have done with a midfielder or a defender - as some players seemed to have fallen out of favour], again due to the fact that Stan won’t splash the cash.)

I’ll briefly touch on the talk of Hector Bellerin and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain in Ornstein’s Recap:

Hector wanting to go back to Barcelona seems to be part truth and part self-fulfilling prophecy, and as Hector said before he is committed to Arsenal and I guess we can only really take his word for it. Not to mention I feel that if you commit to such a long contract as he has, you should honour it - you should honour your commitments unless there is an extreme circumstance that requires you to leave. Note: Losing CL football does not qualify as extreme, no matter how unappealing or shit it may seem to some professional footballers and to some fans.

Perhaps the biggest controversy of the window was the departure of Oxlade-Chamberlain. Again, I am only speaking for myself so: I was disappointed, yes. I didn’t like the way it had been dragged out, I didn’t like the fact that he got to play against Liverpool as it seemed so clear his time was over at the club, it just all felt so unnecessary. I am sad that he chose not to commit himself any further to us - we of course had many years of hoping for “his year”, and last year seemed to be the beginnings of having that only for it to be cut off during this window. He had/has his reasons, what else is there to say? Bitterness has turned to resignation and now to indifference, I have other players at my club that require my support and attention.

I think the real crux of our issues does lay outside of transfers, and more in the boardroom - as I’m sure most will agree. The on-pitch performance/player attitude and fan influence are all (partly) side effects/symptoms of the deeper rot that is our (majority) owner and inactive board. (

All current members of our board have become active between 2005 - 2013.

Sir Chips Keswick was first appointed as an Arsenal director in November 2005 and replaced the outgoing Peter Hill-Wood as Chairman of Arsenal Holdings plc in June 2013.

Ivan Gazidis was appointed as Chief Executive Officer of Arsenal Football Club in January 2009.

Arsenal Football Club’s longest-serving director, Ken Friar OBE has been a mainstay of the Club for more than 60 years. (Honestly won’t really include Ken in this, he still serves our club in 23847724 ways and I will fight for him.)

Lord Harris of Peckham was appointed to the Arsenal board in November 2005.

Stan Kroenke became a shareholder in May 2007, was appointed to the Board of Directors in September 2008 and became the majority shareholder of Arsenal Football Club in April 2011.

Josh Kroenke joined the board of Arsenal Football Club in December 2013.

The reason I make note of this is because this coincides fully with the time (10 years) where we were emphatic that we could not/would not be able to compete with our rivals as the Emirates Stadium needed to be paid off, leaving little else for club business. In fact, it required Arsene Wenger reassuring the banks that he would stay for a further 5 years to see that there was a consistency within the club (i.e. making CL every year, which we did.) in order to repay the loans. (It was partly his idea that we move to a bigger stadium in the first place.)

So, for those years I suspect the board didn’t have too much to do, sure there would be fan discontent, and there really was (“Spend some fucking money”, ring a bell?) - we made a few goes at the title and progressed only a little in the CL, no FA Cups, no nothing - but hey, they were in the Bubble of Time, they told us about that time, so we just had to suck it up, right? Fair enough, I suppose. We still did very well to maintain top 4, especially in a time where that money did actually matter a lot.

2013 rolls around, we start to defrost, and fans think “We should really be doing something by now, ffs” But we have to bear in mind two crucial things:

The lucrative nature of the PL, the value, the cash flow, whatever you want to call it - it had grown exponentially in that decade, this meant that “lower clubs” had tv money, advertising and sponsorship that allowed them to be on a more even playing field, the divide between the great, good and mediocre was allowed to shrink.

Stan Kroenke was (and is) the tache with the cash.

I think we know how the rest goes, we got some great players, both known and unknown, big shiny toys and hidden gems, and everything else in between. We won an FA Cup, two…three in fact - but at the very core the slight patch of mold started to grow, the Kroenke effect. We’re held on a tight leash, our system dictates that we can only use what we make in profit to deal with everything, Stan doesn’t want to give us anything, but hey! Apparently, he wants us to do well!

And you can imagine the fan discontent grows and grows, it’s daylight robbery, we pump the club full of cash in the form of shirt sales, tickets, programmes, magazines, merchandising, our tv subscriptions and so forth (because we love it and want to see it thrive.) - and receive very little in return, no desire, no ambition, falsehoods and unfulfilled promises. That is the first boil of anger festering.

The second boil, and the worst casualty, is Arsene Wenger. Arsene loves us, he loves Arsenal Football Club. And because of this he has not only contributed to our stadium, he has declined offer after offer from other clubs, he has taken the full force of any and all criticism/abuse directed at the club and has protected those that sit at a desk (or relax in a different country entirely) above him.

The reason he is a festering boil is because he becomes a way to channel any and all anger, not just the criticisms he receives as manager. The first boil (The Board) can remain subtle, silent and deadly, but the second is pickable, burstable, it is pumped full of bitterness and entitlement, sadness and despair. But Arsene, despite a few words of displeasure, takes it - he allows it to happen because [read the first few sentences above].

So when you take Arsene for what he is, he is brilliant, he is infuriating, he is wise, he is stubborn, he is intelligent and he is heart breaking. Arsene has made mistakes, foolish decisions, perhaps he has been secretive, perhaps he really does need to let loose and expose our board for what we already know and more - but he won’t, at least I think he won’t, because (excuse my strange analogy) I see it like this:

The club is hanging over a cliff edge (within the context of the expectations and demands of a club our size, I know there are 100s who have it worse off than we do.), and Arsene is holding onto us, he won’t let go, because the way he sees it is that if he drops us (if he leaves) we will fall, fall hard and it could be some serious damage to us - this is because of instability the board has given us - BUT in all of this Arsene is getting older, he is under strain, it is getting harder and harder to hold onto us, the magnitude of our plight is no longer manageable the way it was in the late 90s/00s.

He does make mistakes, he does get it wrong, but perhaps it wouldn’t feel so terrible or be so exacerbated if the system above him had the decency to take him away from the pressure, to say “No, this needs to happen”, “It’s okay we will do this”, “We have decided this”, “You need to do this”. For as long as he tries to keep it all together without letting them be held accountable he is going to be hurt and be the cause of hurt, whether that’s fair or not.

Maybe he could let go and nothing too terrible would happen to us and he could go home and rest or turn his work elsewhere, but there’s this sense of responsibility, that deep love, that relentlessness. He doesn’t trust that if he lets go that somebody will come to pick us up and mend us, not under Stan Kroenke, he would not forgive himself if it were to be damaging to his life’s work and life’s love.

So… we’re in a rut, Stan won’t move, Arsene won’t either. And together it creates this friction, this resentment that oozes and pulses in many factions of the support base, we can use social media to micro-analyze and overanalyze, to pick and pick and pick at our wounds with no healing to come with it, only botched plaster jobs and short term solutions, maybe some pain relief in between (trophies/big wins/good team performances/exciting players).

And then the third boil comes from the media who love their clicks for money, the supposed fans who deliberately create more issues with little room for reason or debate, and the pundits (ex-Arsenal players sometimes) who apply logic/expectations/experience from when they were footballers to a vastly different environment of modern football - anything that’s bad is really bad, and anything that’s good can only last for a week. It’s the culture of hyperbole, sensationalism, dramatics, and hypocrisy.

TL;DR: We are burnt out. Something has to give.

In all of this nonsense that has gone completely off topic, we are stuck. Ornstein’s words are only a mirror being held up to remind us that we are still frail as fuck underneath, we are trying hard in some ways and utterly stagnant in others. But it won’t stop me from coming along with my glue and my bandages, it won’t stop me from wishing someone would heal the infection, that someone would remove the rot and start again, and that the most special someone, Arsene Wenger, could move on and not feel like he let us down. He deserves that at least.

[gadgetsrevv]

How former Liverpool ace Nick Tanner topped the world in Fantasy Premier League | Football | Sport

How former Liverpool ace Nick Tanner topped the world in Fantasy Premier League (Image: GETTY/FPL)

Liverpool have had a flying start to the Premier League season, but one of their former players is going one point better.

While Jurgen Klopp’s Reds lead the Premier League by eight points, Nick Tanner, who played for the Reds for six years from 1988, including in the last Championship winning team in 1990, is currently on top of the world in the Fantasy Premier League, nine points clear of his nearest rival.

Having been in the top 21 since the second game-week, Tanner’s team ‘winorloseonthebooze’ rose to the top in GW8 – a place he will now keep for another week due to the international break.

The former Bristol Rovers defender has already used his special chips, utilising his triple captaincy on Mohamed Salah as early as GW1.

Tanner, an ex-non-league manager himself for over ten years, told Express Sport: “You can sort of relate it to real football but there’s so much luck involved. But your eyes don’t lie, as proven when I watched Liverpool vs Norwich at the start of the season and I saw [Teemu] Pukki play.

“I thought he’s bound to get goals because of the way they play so I stuck him in and he got the hat-trick the next week, which helped.

“Yes I’ve used all my bonus chips, but I’ve already achieved my goal by getting to number one in the world, that’s something many of the ‘I’ve saved my triple captain’ brigade will never do.”

Now FPL ace Tanner has the best part of seven million players looking up at him in just his third season in front of his screen.

He finished the 2018/19 campaign just under two and a half million back from the leaders. But now Tanner knows the rules, he’s taken the game by the scruff of the neck.

How former Liverpool ace Nick Tanner topped the world in Fantasy Premier League (Image: FPL)

How former Liverpool ace Nick Tanner topped the world in Fantasy Premier League (Image: NICK TANNER)

Tanner added: “I was in my son William’s league last year, there were about ten of us and they were taking the Mickey because I didn’t know what I was doing, they didn’t tell me the rules!

“I was making transfers and didn’t realise points were coming off. They stitched me up so I thought we will take it a bit more seriously this year.

“We’ve all stuck a tenner in and there’s 25 of us so I’m laughing my head off.

“I don’t take it as seriously as some do. I don’t sit there on it but it’s just the day before the game I have a look. It’s the same as a manager, you have a look and when you’ve got the game the next day, that’s when you make the decision.”

His impressive August saw Tanner finish in the top ten for the month, earning him an FPL goody-bag consisting of a rucksack, t-shirt, mug, water bottle, stress ball, pen, pad and key ring (pictured below).

How former Liverpool ace Nick Tanner topped the world in Fantasy Premier League (Image: NICK TANNER)

Tanner’s FPL team is now worth £101.9m, showing just how he has picked the right players at the right time.

And though he’s an advocate for solid defending when it comes to being on the pitch, Tanner advises to focus on your attack when it comes to the famous game.

“My theory is that you shouldn’t bother with the defenders,” he admitted.

“Have a cheap goalkeeper, cheap back three, never play with a back four, the points are all scored by forwards.

How former Liverpool ace Nick Tanner topped the world in Fantasy Premier League (Image: GETTY)

“People think they’ve got to get Alisson and Van Dijk in but that’s like £14m and you won’t get that many points.

“Harry Kane is having a bad time, but you need to look at the peaks and troughs. Mane is always good to be in there but Salah has dropped off a bit but we are talking about football again.”

Though he played for Liverpool, Tanner’s heart remains with Bristol Rovers, who he’s supported all his life having been brought up in Bristol. Following his retirement due to a back injury in 1994 he moved back to the South West and still supports Rovers to this day.

He still keeps an eye on Jurgen Klopp’s resurgent Reds though by co-commentating on Liverpool away games for Radio Merseyside and never misses a live game on TV.

How former Liverpool ace Nick Tanner topped the world in Fantasy Premier League (Image: NICK TANNER)

Nick Tanner’s GW8 Fantasy Premier League team (Image: FPL)

There’s a long way to go for both Liverpool and Tanner – but don’t count against a memorable double just yet. Not that Tanner is a win at all costs type of guy, just as his team name suggests.

“Reading some of the comments across all social media doesn’t half make me smile, or is it cringe?” he laughed.

“So keep smiling, and don’t forget whether I’m top at the end, who cares?”

Nick Tanner currently works for https://www.mattersmagazines.co.uk which are community magazines covering South Gloucestershire and Chepstow. As part of their giving back to the community ethos, Nick is available for coaching in local schools free of charge. You can contact Nick at nicktanner799@msn.com, all you need is a ball and a love of the game.

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[mclennunf]

This Boy - Chapter 33

A/N: im so sorry its taken this long... really i am... but i thank each and every one of you for the support. please enjoy! 

~John’s~

The morning of the trial was like any other, regardless of the fact that Paul and I had to dress all posh and fancy like. He knew how much I hated it, and he milked it for sure. I popped my pill in my mouth and washed it down with a sip of water, waiting for Paul to finish primping and priming himself. So far, he seemed to be dealing with this well. It was the fact that we hadn't actually arrived at the courthouse yet that I was worried about. But, my Paul is strong. 

"Ready, love!" Paul called as he trotted proudly down the stairs. "Beautiful." I smirked at him as I pulled him in for a quick kiss. Gin and Mike came down the stairs after him, and Paul pushed me away. I knew our relationship was a secret and always had to be, but Lord was it getting annoying. The drive to the courthouse felt like an eternity for me. I could only imagine what it felt like for Paul. I kept glancing at him and giving him reassuring smiles, and he would flash me a not-so-convincing smile back. But, he wasn't having a freak out or a break down and I had to be thankful and proud of him for that. When Gin finally found a bloody parking spot, it took all of me not to take Paul's hand and proudly walk into that courtroom like we owned the bloody place. Paul and I sat down at the front, Gin and Mike in the observers seats. "Ready, lads?" Mr. Edison greeted us as he sat down next to Paul. We both nodded hesitantly.

Paul's eyes made the same change they always did when he was feeling numb. I looked over to see what he had been staring at, and it was Jim being escorted in by his lawyer and a police officer. They sat parallel to us facing the Judge's bench. "M'love," I whispered, catching Paul's attention. "Thank you." He half smiled and tilted his head. I could tell that all either of us wanted was to kiss right there and then. "All rise," An officer announced. We stood as the Judge entered, and I brushed my hand lightly against Paul's. The touch was soothing. He brought his hand back to mine and pressed his knuckle against mine. The warmth of his hand almost brought my mind away from what was truly happening, this trial. I imagined Paul and I lying on our backs in Strawberry Fields as we had the first night everything happened for us. The way we fell asleep and woke up holding hands. Moments like those remind me to be strong for him, in moments like these. 

"Be seated." The Judge ordered. She was a middle-aged woman with long blonde hair and a few wrinkles. We did as we were told, our hands still dangling at our sides so that our knuckles could secretly touch. "Mr. Edison, proceed." The judge gestured toward our lawyer. My stomach did a flip, and I watched Paul's face turn completely white. Mr. Edison stood up and walked up to stand in front of the Judge's bench and the jury. A small group of people I had never seen before, which made me assume they were from Blackpool. Everybody knows everybody in Liverpool. Guess they have to keep it anonymous, or whatever. "Good morning, ladies and gentleman. Let me introduce myself. My name is Mr. M. Edison, and I will be representing Mr. James Paul McCartney and Mr. John Winston Lennon throughout this important case." He gestured toward us as he spoke our names. I felt Jim's eyes on me, falling back and forth between myself and Paul. Paul stared ahead at Mr. Edison.

Mr. Edison was very good, and very smart. He turned back to the Judge and jury. "My reason for being here this morning is to help you anticipate what you will hear over the next few hours when listening to evidence. We have both of the victims and their witnesses here to make statements and I do trust that you, the jury, and Your Honor, will do your job to it's fullest extent and see that there is no other choice than to find the defendant guilty on all counts." Mr. Edison nodded a thank you to the Judge and sat back down next to Paul, who smiled at him. I had a feeling this was going to go well, regardless of how terrible it would be to hear Jim McCartney defend himself and try to win custody back of Mike. Mike. I spun my head around quickly to check on him. He was glued to Gin, staring at Paul and I. I gave him a small smile and thumbs up, and turned back around. "Will the defendant rise with your opening statement." The Judge pointed to Jim's lawyer, who then stood in the same spot Mr. Edison had.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Your Honor, we have been brought together today in regards to a tragedy that has taken place. An innocent man lost his wife to cancer." The lawyer referred to Paul's mother. I glanced over at him, but he didn't even flinch. "You or I could've easily succumb to this undeserving loss and would've dealt with it the same way Jim McCartney had. He tried to take care of his two sons on his own, with none to little help. When his oldest son began rebelling and acting out, Mr. McCartney Sr. felt unwanted and unloved. This is something that we can blame on our so called victim, Mr. McCartney Jr." The lawyer pointed at Paul, who did flinch this time. It took everything I had to stay seated and not pounce on the little bastard, but I needed to stay calm. For Paul. "We would like to call Michael McCartney to the stand." Mr. Edison spoke up. Paul and I both watched as a small, young Mike made his way nervously up to the stand. It was horrible to me that they would put the poor lad up there on his own. But, when he moved, I noticed George and Ritchie sitting behind Gin. I half smiled, and focused my attention back on my young brother-in-law. "Michael, thank you for joining us!" Mr. Edison was sweet to Mike, thankfully. Paul had a very worried, protective look on his face. Who could blame him though, really? Mike only nodded back at Mr. Edison. "Do you remember when your Daddy started drinking?" Mr. Edison asked, leaning on the front of the stand in hopes that Mike would forget he was speaking in front of a room full of people. "N-no, sir. My Daddy always drank." Mike's small voice replied. "Okay, you're doing great." Mr. Edison gave him a high five, causing Paul to smile like a proud Poppa. "Do you remember when your Daddy started hitting your older brother, Paul?" Mr. Edison asked another question. Then another, then another. It got to the point where Mike was describing the day that Jim had hit Paul over the head with the chair, down to the nitty gritty details of blood and teeth and what the sound of ribs breaking sounds like. "I-I want Paul," Mike finally broke down into tears. Mr. Edison and the Judge allowed Mike down from the stand, where he ran over and jumped into Paul's arms and cried into his shoulder. "Shh, Mikey. I'm here." Paul was biting his bottom lip the way he always did when he was fighting back tears. 

"We would like to call Mr. McCartney Sr. to the stand." The other lawyer spoke up, and the Judge nodded in approval. Here we go. Mike stayed on Paul's lap for this. "Mr. McCartney, you admit to hitting your son. But, you were ill. An alcoholic. Do you think you can be held responsible for these accusations?" His lawyer asked, pacing back and forth in front of our bench. "No, sir. I was under the influence of alcohol and dealing with severe depression." Jim replied with a nasty grin. "And your son, James, he was a troublesome child who caused you nothing but stress?" He asked. "Yes. He was always causing trouble at school and at home. Reckless and careless." Jim lied through his bloody teeth. I clenched my jaw in tension. But, Mike put his small little hand on top of mine and I felt my jaw release. "Objection." Mr. Edison spoke up. "We would like to call George Harrison to the stand. A long time family friend of the McCartney's." Mr. Edison gestured to where George and Ritchie were sitting. Jim limped his old arse back to his bench and sat down, but not before giving me a long, threatening glare. George made his way up to the stand, wearing a nice dress shirt and tie with his tight black pants. They reminded me of Hamburg, and I smiled at the younger lad, thankful for the fond memory and good mate.

"Mr. Harrison, how long have you known the McCartney family?" Mr. Edison asks with a kind tone. "All me life. Me Mum 'n Da' always had tea at the McCartney's, even before me 'n Paul were born." George's voice was shaky and nervous. Which, he had every right to feel. He glanced around the court room. It was rather large, but all of the benches, seats and people made it seem extremely small. "Can you remember Mr. McCartney Jr. ever being a troublesome child? At home, or at school?" Mr. Edison went on. "Well, y'know, all kids are a little troublesome. But Paul was always a sweet lad, me best mate, he is. Always has been. Only time he ever caused a problem at home was when 'e stood up for 'imself against 'is Da's fist." George was brutally honestly, causing an actual small reaction from the jury, which gave me more hope. Paul was bouncing Mike on his leg soothingly, but I could tell it was also due to his nerves. Mike's little hand was still on top of my now very sweaty hand. "And, Mr. McCartney Sr. stabbed your other mate, Mr. Lennon? Is that correct?" Mr. Edison pointed to me. As the words escaped his mouth, Mike tightened his grip and laced his fingers with mine, holding tight as if to tell me it was all okay.

"That is correct, sir." George nodded. "And why did he stab Mr. Lennon?" Mr. Edison crossed his arms and glanced briefly at the jury, and back to George. "Uh, well, Paul's Da' wanted them to move to Scotland. Paul said he didn't wanna go, and Jim needed someone to blame. So he blamed John, and attacked him." George explained, looking over to me with sorry eyes. I blinked at him to reassure him that we were all okay. "Thank you Mr. Harrison." Mr. Edison allowed George to go back and sit beside Ritchie, who definitely was hiding his tears, unlike Gin, who had been crying since the second Mike walked up to the stand. "Mr. McCartney Jr. Please come to the stand." Mr. Edison said with a smile, trying to keep his client calm. Paul picked Mike up and placed him over to me, on my lap. I wrapped my arms around his little tummy and held him close as Paul walked up and sat in the stand.  

And then Paul had to tell the story from his point of view. Which is the story we all know, and hate. Hearing Paul tell every little detail made it seem as though I was reliving it, as I can imagine it made him feel, too. I could see everything playing out in my head. The bathtub. His black eyes. His cigarette burns. His broken bones. All of the horrible moments I had witnessed in Paul's life flashed before my bloody eyes. Thankfully, Mike was getting fidgety and brought me back down to Earth. I was extremely proud as I looked at Paul. He kept himself together quite well, better than I had expected, anyway. He had a few moments of tears where he couldn't speak anymore, but regardless, he did an amazing job. Once again, if only I could kiss him in front of all of these people. "I have heard enough." The Judge interrupted him with a stone cold expression. Paul seemed surprised by her cutting him off, just as we all did. "I would like to dismiss the jury, take a short recess and come back with a sentence. Thank you." The Judge banged her gavel rather loudly, and everybody dispersed. Mike went back to Gin, who took him to get some water. Paul and I sat on a little bench outside of the courthouse to have a smoke.

"I love you." I whispered as I lit the cigarette that was already hanging out of his mouth. He took in a long, drawn out drag and blew the smoke down toward our feet. "I love you too." Paul didn't look up at me. "You did amazing." I reassured him. "Wish I could reward ye." I nudged his side lightly with my elbow as I smoked my cigarette with the other hand. "She cut me off, though. Not a good sign." Paul objected. Before I could make a statement about that, Mr. Edison poked his head out of the door. "The jury has come to a final decision. The Judge is ready for sentencing. Are you.. Are you ready?" He asked in a concerned manner. I nodded, and poked Paul's arm. "Are you ready, babe?" I said quiet enough for Mr. Edison not to hear. "One second," Paul called back to him. He nodded and closed the door. Paul took a quick look around, before throwing his cigarette on the ground and crashing his lips against mine, wrapping his arms around my neck. I breathed in his heavenly scent and smiled into the kiss. When he unfortunately pulled away, he was smiling too. "Never let go of me." He whispered. "Never, m'love." I winked. We made our way back into the crowded court room. 

"Let the jury state their finding and majority vote." The Judge gestured. "Here we go." Mr. Edison whispered as he shifted his body to face the jury. The jury representative stood up. Paul and I both held our breath, waiting for the decision to be announced. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, the way everybody turned their head toward the jury's bench, the way the jury representative fumbled with their papers and forms. Even the way Paul took a glance at me, seemed like an eternity. 

We were about to find out a decision that could change our lives forever.

[junker-town]

Loris Karius showed us just how deeply unfair the goalkeeper position is

The Liverpool keeper’s two nightmarish mistakes doomed his team in the Champions League final against Real Madrid.

Loris Karius will not sleep tonight.

The Liverpool goalie gave up two nightmare goals in the UEFA Champions League Final on Saturday to Real Madrid, two goals which sealed Madrid’s 3-1 win over the Premier League side and gifted the Madridistas their third consecutive Champions League trophy.

And let’s not sell these short — these were truly awful mistakes. Karius gave up the first goal when he threw a ball nearly directly into Karim Benzema’s foot, who was just as surprised as anyone to see his outstretched leg catch the ball and send it into the goal.

What a mistake from Karius as his throw gets blocked by Benzema and ends up in the back of the net! pic.twitter.com/F5KsQ8ts1Y

— FOX Soccer (@FOXSoccer) May 26, 2018

After a Sadio Mane equalizer and then a worldy from Gale Bale to give Madrid a 2-1 lead, Karius then bungled a dipping shot from distance, again from Bale, and the match was done.

Karius AGAIN with the mistake in net! This time he gifts Gareth Bale his second goal of the night, putting Real Madrid up 3-1. pic.twitter.com/iZEA7RnZMr

— FOX Soccer (@FOXSoccer) May 26, 2018

No one on earth was stopping Bale’s first goal, a bicycle kick I’m still not entirely sure was real, but the other two were squarely on Karius. Without those two mistakes, it’s a 1-1 game.

They were two moments that would put a great deal of stress on the Liverpool motto “You’ll never walk alone.” After Karius’ two howlers, the report from inside the stadium was that he was doing just that — handling his moment of infamy alone, no Liverpool teammates around him, just Real Madrid players coming over to console the keeper.

No Liverpool players went over to Karius when he was lying on the ground, only Madrid players

— Simon Kuper (@KuperSimon) May 26, 2018

Karius deserves the blame for his mistakes, of course. He made them. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is all deeply unfair.

When you are a keeper, there’s almost no margin of error. Everywhere else on the pitch, for the most part, there is.

I’m reminded of a moment in the match when Cristiano Ronaldo, one of the three or so best players to ever live, found himself one-on-one in the box with Trent Alexander-Arnold, the 19-year-old Liverpool defender. Ronaldo got the ball on his right foot, hesitated, got Alexander leaning the wrong way ... and took a heavy touch that went out of bounds.

It was a nothing moment, really. A half-chance wasted. Ronaldo hung his head for a moment, then jogged back to his position.

Because of who he is and the player he is, Ronaldo can make that error. A gross touch that flies out of bounds is annoying for Madrid fans and Ronaldo’s teammates, sure, but it’s not a big deal, even if he should have done more with it.

Karius had no such luxury.

Misplaced passes happen constantly on a field. Bad touches even more often. It’s just everywhere else on the pitch there’s usually the chance for redemption or bailing out, or if not, the stakes are low enough it won’t matter. A shitty pass just sails out for a throw in. Fine. A bad touch wastes a chance, but nothing more. Even if you’re the last man and attempt a disastrous missed tackle, there’s always the chance the keeper will come out and bail you out with a brilliant save.

Photo by Michael Regan/Getty Images

There are no bailouts when you play goalkeeper. There are no chances for redemption. If you throw the ball into Karim Benzema’s leg, there is no one behind you to save you. If you bungle a dipping screamer from Bale’s left foot, and it goes goalward, there is nothing left to do. You hang your head. You sit on the ground after the match, and try to hold back the tears.

Yes, I know keepers can use their hands. Yes, I know they have more space to make passes than most outfield players do. But a mistake is a mistake. Players elsewhere can make them, and keepers, by virtue of where they play on the field, can not.

I doubt this will console Karius. And I’m not advocating for any change or anything here — the position is what it is. It’s why I jokingly tell young players to go up and play striker, where you can play like crap for 89 minutes and be a hero, as opposed to keeper, where you can be brilliant for all but 10 seconds and lose your job.

I guess I just ask for a little empathy when it comes to Karius, who was brilliant all year in getting Liverpool this far, and had two moments he’d like back. I think we can afford him that.