#and regardless of expectations being met or not he's clearly so proud of this product that i am happy for him

[iamanartichoke]

Thanks to @thehumming6ird who was so kind an provided scans from Tom’s interview with the Empire you can now read the whole thing here.

Some things caught my eye. The photos are cut from the @thehumming6ird ‘s Scans, but the highlighting is mine.

1. Tom talks about the ‘break’ he took after 2017. To me, it sounds like he’s playing it down, but perhaps he just wants to prevent misunderstandings or sounding like he would blame anyone. I deeply respect that, especially since there are less classy people who didn’t show such courtesy.

2. He knew of Loki’s death in infinity war before filming Ragnarok. (Also, just when I thought my respect for the Russos could not dip lower, I was proven wrong. How are these people professionals?! And if you go for the worf-maneuver, how can you do it so incredibly shitty? Whyyyyy?!)

3. He doesn’t deny how hard Loki’s death has been on him. (Also, he mentions the Russo’s initiated a round of applause after his death scene. Is it me or does that feel distasteful to anyone else, too? Am I developing an arch-nemesis? Who the fuck applauds after an execution? Even if it’s a fictional one?)

4. Until now I had been convinced that it has been Tom choice to revive the 2012 Avengers Loki instead, let’s say the 2013prison Loki or the post-Ragnarok version. Turns out, this wasn’t even intentional but the easiest fit. *sigh* ok. I’ll just assume we - the ones who like the avengers version best - got lucky.

5. At this point the interviewer says ‘malevolent streak’ which means he is -unlike in the introduction- not accusing Loki to be malevolent, but refers to his actions.

Tom agrees with those characterizations: bruised, broken, capricious, malevolent streak, and something to prove. These characterizations fit better the Loki from Thor 1 and TDW than Ragnarok Loki, I’d say. Also, he mentions The most ‘fun’ parts of Loki would be his defense mechanisms. (Not the potty humor.)

Regarding the snake story, he makes it very clear that this was Thor’s story, leaving it open if it truly happened like this or not.

6. He assures us he doesn’t want ‘to break’ Loki. Well, he also says he didn’t want to dilute what was already done, which also can be interpreted as ‘it won’t be worse than the former canon’ but the sentence about breaking Loki takes the ambivalence out. He seems pretty sure it is good, so the only question remains if his taste fits ours.

Regarding the team, he points out Kate’s knowledge. I think that’s a good sign. You don’t research things you’re not into this well. But I wasn’t me if I wouldn’t point out that ‘extraordinary’ doesn’t equal ‘good’.

[all-things-fic]

Finding out about Harry getting the movie role 🥺🥺🥺

No matter how many times you told him not to worry, he did.

You supposed it was only human nature. Everyone had a little worry from time to time. However, with Harry it always seemed to be tenfold.

He would channel his worry in many ways, depending on whatever news he was waiting for. Sometimes he would be deep and brooding, going into himself and becoming a one word answer kind of guy.

Other times he would busy himself with the most menial of tasks. That three mile run he had been putting off earlier in the week would now become between a five to seven mile run and something he absolutely had to do for his own benefit.

The list of groceries that you were going to go out for on Sunday - the ones stuck to your fridge - were now his responsibility to pick up when he went out on a petrol run to fill up his car (that he wasn’t going to drive considering he couldn’t really go anywhere in that present moment of time).

Or the song he had pencilled time in to finish now became important enough that he couldn’t wait for the studio time he had booked and his own recording outlet in the comfort of his home was more than enough to complete the job.

He’d had his deep and brooding moment at the beginning of the week, making it so you were lucky if you managed to get a grunt out of him. You rode that wave out together, neither a comment said from the other about arguably his childish display.

Part of you didn’t expect him to react in such a way. The tape he had sent weeks ago had been well received but he had been gently let down. Beaten by a better man. At first it stung, but it wasn’t like he would be down and out without the opportunity.

He took it on the chin. Brushed himself off and proudly stuck out his chest. Moved onto the next thing, just like before.

“‘S a bit shit but I’ll live,” he admitted, swallowing thickly before taking a larger pull from his wine than its predecessor, as he curled up with you on the couch in knackered old sweats that would’ve been worth binning because of how threadbare and hole-y they were.

His comment has been out of the blue, Harry choosing not to talk more about the situation after he had given you the news that he wasn’t the man for the role. Nonetheless you were ready to engage in the conversation now if it were needed.

“Not going to buy it off Sky movies when it finally appears on their listing though?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

You’d laughed about it. Shared smiles over his whispered experience of recording an audition rather than entering a room and feeling clammy palms like he had done for previous opportunities that he had put himself forward for.

He had talked and talked about scenarios that you knew because you had experienced them with him too. About the line running and how much of a massive ballache it could be at times, invasive and often overbearing due to how all-encompassed he became. Still you let him speak as if these scenarios were new to your ears because somewhere inside you knew that was what he needed.

Then the moment was gone, and the train picked up steam for something else like it always did. Where he was jumping into a car and driving across Europe with his friends, promising you within his goodbye kisses that “‘s not just a piss up wi’the lads” and that he was actually going strictly for business.

And that was it.

You thought it was forgotten.

Pulled into a false sense of security when you savoured the way the world around you had made it so the two of you had time to really connect. To enjoy each other without the apologies around rushed kisses because he was being pulled away, again.

Hand movements slower as you undressed each other in the dusk of the evening or pitch black of the early hours rather than desperately seeking the missed feeling of warmed europhia. Basking in the beauty that came with sluggish pulls and desperate pleas.

That was until he was sitting at the table over breakfast, one bleak morning, hanging on to the words that had been shared between himself and his manager.

All of it fading so easily.

His face was pensive as he listened, free hand dropping his fork and moving to push through his bed head before the backs of his fingers roughly rubbed at the facial hair that was scattered along his jawline and cheeks.

You tried not to stare for too long, not wanting to be caught in your eagerness to eavesdrop. Hands somewhat shaky as they buttered at toast, and cut the crusty bread in half ready to bite into when you felt your hunger return.

The sugar of your tea wasn’t quite sweet enough, as you lifted your gaze to watch Harry continue to listen and sipped at the warm drink.

“Knew it had gone well but didn’t think it’d gone that well,” he replied to whatever Jeff or Alex, or some else, had been saying to him over the other end of the line.

Then his smile broke across his lips.

“She said that,” he paused, blowing out a huge breath of air partly from relief but also hearing such high praise. “‘S good, ‘s great even. Nice to hear.”

Something inside you knew he was gone. Already whisked off somewhere else in all but body. People around him putting him on flights to take him away from you, in clothes that didn’t fit but could be tailored to him to look like his second skin. Literally made for him.

His hair was bound to be the first thing to make him look less like your Harry, in a way that was odd to the eye but weirdly pleasing to your wildest imagination and deviant personality which was known to rear itself between the two of you from time to time.

The feeling, mixed with those sudden rush of thoughts, was only solidified when his eyes darted over towards you but moved away just as quickly.

“‘Ow am I feeling?” He looked at you again, this time met with your buttering your other slice of toast. “Like I’ve got some celebrating to do.”

Harry chuckled boisterously, clearly amused by what had been said to him over the other end of the line. It was enough to make him successful to catch your gaze once more. “Not quite cracked open the champagne yet, mate no. By the sounds of it think you’re doing that for the two of us.”

He paused, “Careful you don’t drink away your managerial cut of the opening weekend, ‘s only in pre-production.”

With a lick to his lips, Harry looked at you, a soft raise to his eyebrows when he saw the realisation lace your features and your eyes widened over at him. Then his lips smiled in the way that they had before when he must’ve received praise.

Only this time it was you and your admiration that he found himself enjoying.

A small bite down onto his bottom lip let you know he was shying away from feeling his full elation and letting you share in it too. You couldn’t stop yourself from removing the napkin from your lap and scrunching it against the dining table as you pushed out of your seat and walked around to him on the opposite side.

Remaining seated, Harry looked up at you as he switched the phone to the opposite side of his face and let your reach for him, encouraging his temple to fall against your stomach.

Fingers wove through his hair, not knowing if it was ever going to be this long again and your lips found the top of his head. Inhaling deeply you pressed a long kiss into his chestnut strands, haphazard but silky regardless of how unkempt he appeared. You whispered your words of congratulations to him so lowly that they were only shared between you whether a third party was still present on the phone.

His arm was wrapped around your waist, anchoring you to him and squeezing gratefully at the curve of your hips as you showered him with kisses.

“Call me later about all tha’,” he requested, lids hooded from the relaxing touch of your fingers. “‘S too early for logistics. ‘M going.”

Phone tossed to the table, Harry pushed back on his chair creating enough space to encourage you down onto his lap without much fight from you. He appreciated it, aware just as much as you that slow mornings like these were now going to happen no more than a handful of times for the rest of the year.

He embraced the way you fell against him, forehead against his temple and warm breath fanning against his cheek. One hand splayed out against your lower back while the other wrapped up and gently held your head against his.

You wanted him to hold you, just as much as you wanted to hold him. Legs heavy against his thighs and arms tight against the tops of his shoulders as your hands rubbed at the parts of his back that you could get to.

A stillness came over you that was heavy with emotion. Bittersweet.

Breathing deeply you had to let him know just how thrilled you were of all his successes. Lips gently gliding against his dribbled cheek, you found the shell of his ear and whispered, “If only you knew how fucking proud I am of you.”

His fingers that were buried into your locks, lightly scratched at the back of your head. A softly breathed chuckled omitting from his chest, “Haven't even told you I got it yet. Could be summat rubbish.”

“Don’t have to, can just tell,” you commented, pulling away and watching him tilt his head back to look at you with his hooded but shiny eyes and lopsided lips that danced with the softest of smiles.

You stayed quiet for a while as you gently ran your fingers over his features. He let you take your time, doing the same with just his eyes. Taking a breath he spoke in a soft tone, “How’d you know?”

“Less frowny, less grumpy man-child .”

“Hey,” he whined in response, quickly after. Face scrunching with his complaint. You breathed a laugh, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his lips which Harry only deepened. Pleased hum heard when you allowed him to do so.

Breaking your lips, you both lingered looking at each other through blurred vision and a mixture of squashed noses and deep breathing. Once his breath was caught Harry spoke his thanks softly in return.

“Does this mean said movie can go back onto my Sky Movies list to purchase when it becomes available?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

[writing-radionoises]

clear waters

ship: not ship centric, background kunikidazai and shin soukoku

genre: pure fluff

prompt: the ada goes on a family outing

notes: the new chapter has caused me nothing but pain so i wrote another installment in the ada akutagawa series

Atsushi has offhandedly mentioned over lunch break that he had never been to a zoo.

Akutagawa had agreed with him, stating that he hadn’t either, and really had barely been around Yokohama.

Hearing that gave Dazai a pit in his stomach, truthfully, though he’d never say that aloud.

Akutagawa had been with the agency for a little over six months now, they had put their past behind them maybe three months ago.

Dazai had watched the other flourish from afar, watched him open up and feel happy.

Dazai had watched from afar, watching Atsushi and Akutagawa’s relationship develop, giving them little pushes now and then to the final product.

It went unsaid, but Dazai knew what they were to each other. They smiled freely with each other, exchanged small talk frequently over work, and other such things.

Akutagawa had a habit of bringing in hot chocolate for Atsushi whenever he went to get tea.

Dazai had had enough relationships to know what they were to each other.

He was just glad he managed to make it all come together…

Though other than that, the gentle pushes to a relationship, Dazai remained uninvolved with Akutagawa.

Perhaps it was just neglect, or subconsciously avoiding it.

Dazai could recall being dragged to the zoo a couple times by Elise…

“Gin always wanted to go,” Akutagawa explained, sipping at his tea as he looked back up at Atsushi, “Never had enough money, nor time… So it never happened.”

Atsushi smiled in return, “I had never left the orphanage until I was eighteen, I’ve been meaning to take Kyouka for awhile. I think she’d really like it, you know?”

“Then why don't we go?” Dazai said with a smile, from his position on Kunikida’s desk.

Kunikida glanced up at his spouse, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Do we have time for that?”

“Probably not!” Dazai replied, “But regardless, it should be a little family trip! Have a break, we can take the whole agency. I bet Fukuzawa-senpai wants to see the big cats~”

“I wanna see the penguins,” Ranpo proudly announced, “I’ll go ask him.”

“Ranpo, wait-” Kunikida said, though Ranpo had already left the room as the blond sighed and nodded.

“Give in~” Dazai said to the other, ruffling his hair gently.

Atsushi smiled once more, shaking his wrist with glee, “I’m gonna go tell Kyouka!”

He passed his cup to Akutagawa as he dashed for the other side of the agency.

Fukuzawa had, of course, agreed. Dazai knew he could rarely say no to Ranpo, led alone Kyouka, who was extremely excited for the trip.

The group took the bus into the Yokohama zoo and from there, split off into a couple of different groups.

Fukuzawa, Kyouka, and Ranpo immediately went off towards the aquatics section. Kyouka wanted to see otters, and Ranpo wanted to see penguins. Dazai is fairly certain Fukuzawa just wanted to see the other two happy.

Yosano, Tanizaki, and Kenji moved off into the reptilian section, with Kenji mostly leading the way, and Tanizaki clearly nervous.

That left Atsushi, Akutagawa, Kunikida, and Dazai together.

Dazai was fairly certain Kunikida wouldn’t let Dazai alone in a public ever, so he expected this.

Atsushi held onto Akutagawa’s hand, and led them out into the big cats section.

Dazai and Kunikida followed suit.

One way or another, Kunikida and Atsushi trailed off more towards the lions, while Akutagawa seemed mesmerized by the tiger exhibit.

Dazai stayed back, standing beside Akutagawa and watching him intently. He occasionally glanced back at the tiger exhibit, of the tiger just happily basking in the sun. A smile came to Dazai’s face.

“You like tigers?” Dazai asked, to which Akutagawa nodded.

“I thought you knew that,” he replied, looking down at the locket around his neck and fidgeting with it.

It was a golden heart locket, the chain tucked underneath the collar of his short sleeved white blouse. Dazai was pretty certain there was likely a photo of Gin inside the locket, since the two siblings separated, though he had never actually seen it. The most notable part about the necklace was more of the charm on it, next to the locket. It was a simple charm, half of the full yin and yang symbol, the dark side of it.

Dazai had seen Atsushi with the other half of the symbol, clipped onto one of his handmade bracelets that Kyouka had given him.

“Well, I assumed you did,” Dazai replied, half mindedly running a hand through his curls, “Though I thought I’d confirm.”

“Why?” Akutagawa asked, looking up at Dazai in confusion, “What does it matter?”

“Why not?” Osamu replied with a chuckle, “You’re a part of the agency now, you’re like family. Why shouldn’t I know some things about you?”

Ryuunosuke glanced away, looking back at the tiger with a face of dismay.

“... I’m not used to that.”

“Used to what?”

“People wanting to know me as a person, and not just a weapon,” Akutagawa explained, followed by a soft sigh, “There wasn’t a point to getting to know me when I was in the Port Mafia, most of the people I met there were more interested in my ability than my person. Now that I’m here, it feels like whiplash.”

“Ah, I thought the same thing,” Dazai mused, propping up his face in his hands, “I used to be so angry with everyone at the agency, I’m not sure why. Everyone was kind to me, and yet, I still thought everyone there was out to get me… I suppose there probably is a reason I could figure out if I dig deep enough in my memories, but that never goes well.”

“Mm,” Akutagawa hummed in response, nodding along, “It may be… Strange to me as well, because I had never really had a family before.”

“Oh?”

“I barely knew my parents, and I hated them,” Akutagawa said, followed by a slight laugh, “I had always wondered why they bothered creating my sister and I if they were never going to care for us… Regardless, I didn’t know them long, as you know, I grew up on the streets.”

“I remember,” Dazai remarked, “You looked like a drowned rat when Odasaku and I first found you. I just about had to apprehend you to get you to take a bath.”

A smile appeared on Akutagawa’s face as he instantly hid it behind his hand, followed by a laugh.

Dazai stops mid thought at the sight, a certain unnamed emotion making its way into his chest, as if being hit with a sudden understanding.

For the first time in the six or seven years Dazai had probably known Akutagawa, it was the first time Dazai had seen pure joy on the other’s face.

Not fear, not unease, not stress, not anger.

Pure, and unfiltered joy.

It was almost hard to comprehend, Dazai had known this kid since he was fourteen, maybe fifteen, and never seen a genuine smile.

He almost felt like a proud parent, having taken in this kid off the streets and cared for him enough to finally feel joy again.

… Is this how Odasaku felt, all those years ago?

“Dazai?” Ryuunosuke asked, looking up at the brunette with curiosity.

Dazai snapped out of his thoughts, of his own epiphany and gave Akutagawa a smile.

“Hey, let’s go find Atsushi, alright?” He said, ruffling the smaller one’s hair as Akutagawa gave a nod.

They left the tiger exhibit, and met up with Atsushi and Kunikida at the center of the room. Atsushi had ran for Akutagawa instantly, catching the other in a practically bone-crushing hug.

“Ryuu! There you are, I was just about to text you!”

“I don’t answer my texts ever, jinko.”

“Well maybe you should! I’d like to know where you are sometimes!”

“No.”

Dazai looked at the two and laughed, then looked up at Kunikida and gave him a wave.

“Did you have fun, mister honey bunny?”

Kunikida rolled his eyes, “Call me that again and I’ll divorce you.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I might,” Kunikida replied teasingly, “But yes, it was interesting. I take it that it was the same for you?”

Dazai nodded, glancing back at Akutagawa, who was now being clung to against his will.

“Yes, definitely,” Dazai replied, happily, “I learned Akutagawa likes tigers.”

“Ha,” Kunikida remarked, rolling his eyes as he glanced at Atsushi and Akutagawa, “Never would’ve expected that.”

[zombiesbecrazy]

Onion Rings

Summary: Damian stopped abruptly and lifted in his head to a gathering of people across the room. Clark zoned in and realised what was happening very quickly.“He’s drunk?”

for @audreycritter‘s birthday!

AO3

*****

“Mr. Kent?”

Clark’s eyes widened at the words before he turned. It was an address that he was used to, but not from this particular voice. It wasn’t at all like Damian to address him, or almost any adult as Mister, but this was a museum opening and he must be on his best Wayne heir behaviour for the formal event. Alfred would be proud.

“Yes?”

“My father is in need of assistance getting back to the hotel.”

“He drove here himself, right?”

“Yes, but he seems to find himself indisposed and needs extraction.”

“Lead the way.” It was a weird request from Damian. Clark and Bruce did have a public relationship, but it was mostly professional, only meeting up at events or pre-arranged meetings. In those instances they did come across as friendly, but at an event like this, Damian wouldn’t normally seek out Clark at all, let alone ask for help in something as small as getting him home. At worse, even Bruce’s public persona knew how to call an Uber.

Damian stopped abruptly and lifted in his head to a gathering of people across the room. Clark zoned in and realised what was happening very quickly.

“He’s drunk?” Clark had only seen Bruce drunk a handful of times and they were in very contained situations. It wasn’t out of the norm to see Bruce acting drunk, playing up the part of an affable idiot, but this looked like full on actual drunkenness. Loud, carrying voice, staggering posture, hands waving dramatically as he spoke. Clark could hear his elevated heartrate now that he was concentrating on it.

This wasn’t calculated. This was real.

“Luthor spiked his drink.” Damian crossed his arms and sniffed as he watched the display in front of him. “And with the amount of paparazzi outside, I can’t be behind the wheel to get him back safely myself.”

Not to mention that he’s thirteen and shouldn’t be driving regardless of who may see it. “Alright. I’ll look after it.” Damian turned to walk away. “Wait, don’t you want a ride, too?”

He paused and spun around again, shaking his head. “I’m fine. I’m going to go to Jon’s house.”

“My house.”

Damian clicked his tongue in annoyance, like he did what he thought someone was asking a redundant question that was beneath him. “Yes.”

“It’s 11:30, Damian. Jon’s asleep. He has been for several hours.”

“The text he sent me three minutes ago suggests otherwise.”

Clark groaned, because of course the son of Batman was slowly turning the son of Superman into being nocturnal. “Fine, but I’m letting Lois know you are on your way and you have to go to bed. No other activities. No outside activities.” His face was blank, undecipherable to an outsider if they were to overhear the conversation, but his message was clear.

“Fine,” huffed Damian. He was doing his best to look put out, but Clark caught the way that his eyes stayed trained on Bruce across the room, who had an arm resting around Lex Luthor’s shoulders, and a booming laugh that travelled through the room. He really was concerned if he had asked Clark for help. “Thank you, Kent. For looking after him.”

“Thank you for getting me, Damian.”

As Clark got closer he noticed that Bruce was flushed and clumsy, both things that he could fake with ease from his training, but his pupils were blown out to the max, something he couldn’t do on command, despite how many times Bruce insisted that he could. This wasn’t drunk like Clark has originally guessed. This was drugged, which was worse.

Clark quickly pulled out his phone to text Lois about their incoming house guest and then after pocketing it again, strolled up casually between the two men, and raised his hand in offer to Bruce. A greeting or a lifeline depending on who was looking at it. “Nice to see you having a good time, Mr. Wayne. It’s been awhile since you’ve been in Metropolis.”

“Clark!” exclaimed Bruce, beaming as if he hadn’t seen him in months and not earlier that evening before the gala, grumbling about Alfred sending him off in a Ted Baker suit instead of the Brioni that Bruce preferred. He grabbed Clark’s hand tight and pulled him in for a hug that to any outsider would look like was just an overly friendly tipsy Bruce Wayne thing to do, but Clark felt Bruce’s fingers curl into his jacket a little bit. Lifeline it was. Bruce pulled back again and clapped his hand on Clark’s shoulder. “Lex, have you met Clark? He’s my favourite reporter at the Planet. He always writes the nicest things about me. We talked after my company started working with that other company about that thing? The thing with the stuff that makes energy clean somehow? I don’t know how it works but it sounds neat. He’s so nice about everyone, don’t you think?”

Luthor raised his drink, and Clark saw him grinning behind the glass, and he had to refrain himself from punching the smile off his face. “We’re acquainted, but that hasn’t been my experience with Mr. Kent,” he drawled. “It seems like he doesn’t always agree with my ideas or how I conduct my business.”

“Really?” Bruce sounded surprised, and even pouted a little, like he was sad that the two of them didn’t get along, before shrugging and smiling again. “Oh. I wouldn’t know. I only read my own press. Gets boring when it isn’t about me.” Bruce’s drunken eyes lit up with glee and he gasped suddenly. “Clark, do you remember the burger place you took me to near the Planet that one time?”

Clark had never taken Bruce for burgers near the Planet if you didn’t count his own apartment, but he decided to play along. “You mean Superburger?”

“Yes!” Bruce snapped his fingers in Luthor’s face urgently, as if it was the most important thing in the world. “Lex, have you tried it? The onion rings, Lex. The onion rings.” Bruce shook Clark’s shoulder, like a child distracted by a new idea that had sank its teeth into them. “Can we go get some, Clark? I would kill for some of those.”

“Bruce, I’m sure Mr. Kent still has work to do,” said Luthor, clearly in attempt to keep Bruce with him. “People to interview and then inaccurately interpret their intentions about in the press later.”

“Actually, I’m done for the night and would love a burger. Escargot and caviar aren’t exactly my idea of a good meal.”

“Great! Let’s go now!” Bruce linked his arm with Clark’s and started to lead them towards the door. He waved back in a way that could only be described as thrashing. “Bye, Lex!”

Getting Bruce into the car was both very easy and extremely difficult at the same time. The valet brought the car around quickly, but trying to get Bruce to sit in the passenger seat instead of the driver’s seat took more convincing than Clark had expected, and then his limbs were all flaily when trying to get into the two seater. Only when Clark realised that Damian had the passenger seat pulled up closer to the dash and he released the latch to accommodate for Bruce’s long legs did things get easier.

He had also not expected to be confused the moment that he tried to put the car into drive. “Umm. I don’t know how to drive this.”

“You grew up on a farm. You can drive. I’ve seen you fly alien spaceships.” The last part trailed off into a mock whisper, as if Bruce knew that that was a secret, but couldn’t remember how to be quiet. Even with just a few words, and even while drugged, Clark could see the shift from Bruce Wayne into just Bruce, the Bruce that Clark knew best. Now that he was out of the crowd and in the safety of the car, the playboy demeanor gone and he appeared to be draining of energy fast.

“Sure, but where is the gear shift? I can’t drive the car if I can’t get the car out of park.”

“Oh.” Bruce looked around the dash, as if trying to remember what car he was in, before he pointed. “It’s the shifter that you normally use for the wipers.”

“Then how do you use the…” he spotted a wiper button on the console “Never mind.” He flicked the shifter down into drive and pulled away from the museum and started heading towards Bruce’s hotel. “You don’t strike me as the type of guy who would drive automatic.”

“I don’t usually. I just wanted to drive a red car. My Metropolis red car is automatic.”

Only Bruce Wayne would refer to a Jaguar that probably wasn’t going to be released to the public until next year as ‘his red car’.

“You know, everything I drive is an alien spaceship, technically,” said Clark. “Unless it’s at the Fortress or its Kara’s pod, it’s alien to me.”

“What about your pod?”

“I was a baby. I don’t fit anymore.” A few moments passed in silence. Bruce fumbled around in the glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of water. He seemed to have trouble twisting the cap, but finally managed. “What happened tonight?”

“Lex spiked my drink. Couldn’t ditch it without suspicion so…” Bruce took a long sip of the water, draining half the bottle and wincing as he swallowed, “down it went.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Clark sighed. It was the ongoing battle. Bruce and Clark. Batman and Superman. Fine never meant fine. Fine meant that he was planning on struggling through whatever it was by himself, except Clark never actually let him do that. It was all part of the dance. “What was it?”

“Something similar to flunitrazepam, but it’s been mixed with something else.”

“That’s like Rohypnol, right?”

“Similar.” He ran his hands through his hair, product making it stand up strange in all directions. “I have a tolerance to it, but being cut with something else means I am compromised.” Clark thought that compromised was a polite way of saying ‘wasted off his ass’ but ignored the word choice.

“But why?” Why in the heck would Lex bother with roofie-ing Bruce Wayne? What could be the benefit, unless… “Does he know?” Lex was smart and had known Bruce a long time, both as the business mogul and as Batman. It wasn’t a far leap to connect the two.

Bruce shook his head and looked like he immediately regretted it, and held his hand to his mouth for a moment, fighting a wave of nausea. “Corporate sabotage.” Clark raised an eyebrow, but kept his eyes on the road in front of him. “Happens more than you would expect. Probably just trying to get me to do something stupid publicly. Maybe leak some info that shouldn’t be leaked.” He cracked the window and rested his head in a position that the fresh air hit his face, eyes closed. “Jokes on him. It’s better for me long term if Bruce Wayne looks stupid.”

“You are Bruce Wayne.”

“Potato, tomato.”

“If you say so.” Clark struggled to keep a straight face. He stopped at a red light and turned his head to get a better look at Bruce. “How do you feel?” It was a better question than asking if he was okay. It had more parameters.

“Honestly?” Bruce fidgeted in the seat some.  “Twitchy. Like when you are overtired and your legs get restless, but I feel like that everywhere.” The light changed and Clark continued to drive. Bruce was silent for a few more lights and Clark was wondering if he had drifted off before he started talking again. “Jason used to do that. When his legs started twitching randomly I know that I had to send him off to bed. He’d argue about it, but go.” Bruce inhaled audibly and let it out shakily. “I miss him.”

Clark had seen Bruce go down this path countless times. Whenever he was hurt or sick or drugged, there was the inevitable tipping point when he started talking about Jason; the Jason from before the Joker. The boy that he had lost. Bruce worried about all his kids, his protégés, but this one in particular always came up when he was at his most vulnerable.

Clark reached across and gave Bruce’s hand a squeeze. “He’s safe, Bruce. He’s okay.”

“But we’re not,” mumbled Bruce. “Jason and I are not okay. We’re never okay. He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. Not really.” Clark tried to think of the best way to put it that made sense. “It’s like when you run two bulls together. You’re a lot alike and you just end up fighting and hurting each other. You both get too emotional when you try to talk to each other.”

Bruce’s eyes popped open at that and he sat up straighter to stare at Clark, jaw dropped comically. “I’m too emotional?” Clark sniggered and nodded while Bruce continued to stare at him in a dumbfounded way. “And to think Dick always tells me I’m emotionally constipated.”

“Constipated is not the same thing as non-existent.” It was something that he had heard Dick say countless times, in many colourful different ways. “You get backed up, is all. Then when you and Jason get together it explodes out in unfortunate ways.” He smirked at Bruce. “I don’t think I need to actually say the obvious poop joke there for you to get my point.”

Bruce grunted in response and turned back to the window. Clark thought that the conversation was over, until Bruce piped up again. “That’s a shitty thing to say.”

Clark burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it, and Bruce followed suit. For a few minutes it was just the two of them laughing in the car, not worrying about being drugged or Luthor or mistakes from the past. Just two friends being silly in a dark car in the middle of the night. It was moments like this when they were just normal people that Clark loved best.

Clark hit another red light and was at a literal crossroads. He had promised Damian one thing, but there was another, better option.

“Do you still want to go back to the hotel? Or my place? Damian’s sleeping over there tonight.”

“Hmm.” He thought the possibilities over for longer than it would have taken him on a normal night. “Your place if it is alright. I don’t want to be alone at the hotel.”

Clark nodded and turned right, in the direction of their apartment. “Home it is.”

“Wait. Pull over.” Bruce’s tone was urgent and insistent and Clark found himself pulling to the curb without hesitation.

“Why? Are you going to be sick?”

“No.” He pointed out the window, where the glowing lights of a Superburger were shining through the dark like a beacon. “I believe I was promised a burger.”

“I think you were more interested in the onion rings.”

“Burger, Clark,” said Bruce, in a familiar way to how he had sounded at the gala. Innocent and excited. “Getting food in me will only help.”

“Fine, but you have to eat it like a normal person. None of this ‘raised by a butler and uses a knife and fork’ nonsense.”

“Drunk Bruce Wayne can eat a burger like a heathen as long as there are a side of onion rings.”

“You’re an onion ring, you know,” said Clark. “A delightful onion with many rings.”

Bruce’s brow scrunched up in confusion, seemingly in deep thought. “I don’t get it. I have been drugged though. I’m not at my best for puzzles tonight.”

“You will in the morning, Dark Shrek.” Clark pulled the car into the drive through and up to the ordering screen. “Let’s go get that burger and go home.”

[plus-size-reader]

Hell Fire

Tyson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2916 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader is the daughter of Hades who is an outsider to the other campers until Tyson shows up and decides to become her friend. 

———————————————————————————————————

You shouldn’t have even been allowed out of the depths of Tartarus.

However, seeing as you were half mortal and had never met your father, you resided strictly in the confines of Camp Half Blood, with all the other demigods.

Not that being a demigod didn’t seem to make you any more popular with the others. No matter what you did, you always felt like an outsider.

It just didn’t seem like you belonged there, not that you belonged anywhere else either.

For starters, your father was one of the big three, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, he was the literal God of the underworld. It was far from a winning track record but you knew that even if Hades hadn’t been the torturer of all eternally damned souls, you probably wouldn’t have been the queen bee.

That sort of thing just wasn’t in your nature.

You had always been soft spoken and though you’d been at the camp longer than any other, few knew much about you. You had already been here when most of them arrived, something that you were sure only added to your mystery.

You had never done a thing in the world to anyone but they didn’t care. You were different, even by their ungodly standards and they didn’t like you because of that. You had been told that your eyes had this fire beneath that could draw in anyone’s attention, regardless of their desire. Something that scared them, you assumed.

The fact that your appearance was sort of intimidating didn’t do much to help either. You carried your strong frame with this ease and power that could rival Athena’s own, with a calm rage, bubbling just beneath the surface.

For all these reasons and a million more, you never assumed one of them would make a conscious choice to join you at lunch.

Until Tyson.

Tyson came into your life on his first day at camp.

He didn’t know anyone aside from his brother, who didn’t seem all that excited to see him, and no one was all too welcoming at all.

You knew how intimidating it could be, coming in with all the lunch tables filled to the brim with different cliques, except yours.

No one wanted to risk being seen with the daughter of Hades so you had a table all to yourself. Maybe that was why Tyson had picked you, because one person was a whole lot easier than forty when it came to greetings.

“Hello”

His voice startled you, you head snapping up at his tone.

Normally, you didn’t have to worry about being interrupted while eating, so you were more shocked than anything else at his appearance there.

“Hi” you muttered, waiting for him to elaborate on his existence there. It wasn’t exactly fair, as this stranger didn’t owe you anything but it would be nice to know more about him.

Obviously, there had to be something wrong with him if he was here.

“My name’s Tyson, can I sit with you?” He asked after a brief stint of silence, gesturing all around to the empty table around you. You couldn't help but glance around, searching for whoever had put him up to this but found nothing.

This was just Tyson trying to make one friend on his first day.

He’d picked a hell of a place to start.

“I guess, go ahead” you decided, taking his preoccupation as a chance to look him over while he got situated.

He was tall, with a mop of sandy blonde hair falling into view of a single blue eye in the middle of his forehead. It was hardly what you’d been expecting when you woke up today but all things considered, you didn’t care.

You’d all heard stories of how vicious and aggressive cyclops could be but there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that you could take him down if you had to.

It didn’t hurt that he’d chosen to sit as close to you as possible, even given all the space available to him. If he wanted to do you any harm, you were sure that he would have waited until you were alone, not here in front of everyone.

What you were more concerned about was what he’d expect from you now that he was here.

Idle conversation wasn’t your strong suit and you were really hoping he would stay quiet but something told you that wasn’t going to happen. Tyson just gave off the vibe of someone who wanted to know the life story of everyone he met.

...And you couldn’t have been more right about that.

“So, who are your parents?” He wondered, not even giving you a second to adjust to his company.

When you turned to look at him, you found that he had this curious look on his face, something that you were sure you could wipe off with a single word. No one ever stuck around once they found out the truth and he’d be no different.

He’d be out of here before too long, assuming he managed to stick around at all.

“Hades” you allowed, the confident pride that most of the demigods associated with their parents missing from your tone. You wanted to be proud of your father, and all the things he’d done, but that wasn’t exactly a simple task.

The whole thing was complicated, and no one understood that better than you did.

You were sure that as soon as you said it, the truth would send him running for the hills but Tyson didn’t even blink. In fact, all he did was smile at you, a thoughtful nod accompanying the action.

It didn’t make any sense.

So much so that you actually had a hard time wiping the shocked look off your face, this had never happened before and you weren’t sure how to react. Hadn’t he heard you? Why was he just sitting there?

“Aren’t you gonna run or laugh or something? I said Hades” You repeated, doing your best to keep your concern for him at bay. For the first time in this entire exchange, you were beginning to feel like there may have been something wrong with him.

What was going on?

The boy only shrugged, clearly unaffected by your earth-shattering confession. Obviously, he didn’t understand what it meant, or he didn’t know well enough to be bothered, but a few days in this place would teach him.

The others would, no doubt, rub off on him and he’d be teasing you by the end of the week. That was what always happened, even with the ones that didn’t want to be outright about the way they felt.

“Nope, my dad’s Poseidon” he leveled, answering his previous question when it was clear to him that you weren’t going to return the courtesy. In all fairness though, you were still trying to wrap your mind around the whole thing.

It didn’t make any sense.

Though, before you could ask any more, you heard Clarice from the other side of the cafeteria. She had this time honored tradition of tormenting you, just for the fun of it, but the worst of it all was that you’d grown accustomed to it.

Even in a place where you were all misfits, you managed to stay on the outskirts.

“Hey Jackson, you’d better get your brother away from the freak before she sells his soul into damnation” she cackled, laughter erupting from all around her. Truth be told, it wasn’t one of her better insults but for some reason your stomach sank at the prospect of Tyson becoming afraid of you.

You had only known him for a little while, but even in such a short time, he’d shown you a kindness that you weren’t used to here. He didn’t even seem bothered by the truth about who your father was at first, but nothing said that couldn’t change.

The last thing you wanted was for him to leave you all alone again, you were just starting to get over his kindness.

Fortunately for you, Tyson didn’t seem to be having any of it. Where you assumed he would have gotten up and left, you found him still sitting there.

It was hardly what you’d been expecting, but, you weren’t entirely ungrateful for it. The trouble was that Clarisse and the others were far from done. The punchline of their torture was yet to come.

“Luke,Is that sulfur I smell?” she called, once again earning a laugh as she made a production of the whole thing, searching for the blonde in the crowd. Really, you didn’t get the hype of it all, but the rest of the campers got a kick out of this whole thing.

You did your best to just let them finish, not even bothering to react. You had tried everything you could think of to make it stop but it was useless. For some reason, this was what they found funny, and there was little you could do about it.

“Does she do that a lot-” Tyson started, but you stopped him with a single finger in the air. You knew that their little charade was almost over, and it was best to let them finish. At least then, you could finish your lunch in peace.

“I don’t know, I think it’s just the hell fire” he replied, a dumb shrug on his shoulders as he tossed it away, landing the dig in the same way he did every time.

They would never leave that alone. It didn’t matter if it was during a bonfire, or roasting marshmallows, they always made the hell fire joke. At first, you had tried to remind them that you’d never met your father either, like them, but that didn’t seem to matter.

By this point, they were clearly having too much fun to stop now.

“They’re done now, but  you should probably go sit somewhere else before they start making jokes about you too” you suggested, shooing him away with the back of your hand. Naturally, you assumed that if the rest hadn’t been enough to scare him away, this was certainly going to do the trick.

No one in their right mind would sign up for the kind of ridicule you had to endure every day, but Tyson couldn’t understand your hesitance. Ever after everything, he thought you were cool, and even if you weren’t, no one deserved to be treated like that.

You were the only person he’d ever met who didn’t seem to care about his affliction. When no one else would, you had offered him somewhere to belong, even as small of a gesture as it was.

It meant something to him, and he wasn’t just going to forget it.

It was true that the two of you were polar opposites, literally and figuratively but Tyson couldn’t bear the idea of leaving you alone. You were a little different and it was clear that it would take some time to gain your trust, but he wasn’t against doing that.

One good friend was better than a hundred who wouldn’t be there for him when he needed them.

“I think I’d like to stay, if that’s okay with you” he grinned, taking a second to take in the look on your face as he spoke. You didn’t want them to know, to see how much it affected you, but he could see it.

What they’d said had upset you.

Without much thought at all, he reached across the table to take your hand in his own. It was an action you couldn't have seen coming, or something you knew what to do with but it did what it was designed to do.

Slowly, your hand, that had previously been crunched in a tight fist, relaxed against his own as you allowed yourself to calm down.

It was something that caught you off guard, but you chose to ignore your initial instinct to snatch back your hand from his grasp. There was something much more pressing going on, something you needed to know.

“Why?” You asked, doing your best not to sound super bothered but you couldn’t help it, it didn’t make any sense to you.

What kind of person would risk the ridicule of your entire camp just to be friends with someone like you? If you were in his place, you wouldn’t have done it.

Again Tyson shrugged, giving your question only a second of thought.

“I’ve always liked fire, I think that it’s beautiful” he allowed, earning an instant scoff from you. You knew what he was trying to do, and it may have worked, had he kept that line to himself. No one knew fire better than you, and you’d never considered it beautiful.

You’d never considered it at all, not really.

“It’s dangerous” you counter but before he could even register your words, he’d made up his mind.

“It’s powerful, like you are”

His words were so final, so honest, that even you couldn’t argue. It didn’t matter that you didn’t believe what he was saying, because you knew that he did. Somehow, in less than an hour, he’d managed to learn more about you than anyone else in the camp knew.

It was just the way that he was.

There was something about Tyson that you couldn’t argue with, no matter how hard you tried to poke holes in his argument.

He had this light about him that was so brilliant, and so real. In every way, he was good for the sake of good, and while it didn’t make any sense that he wanted to be anywhere near you, you couldn’t help but be grateful for it.

“How can you think that I’m powerful? You don’t even know me” you asked, completely unsure what he was on. As much as you wanted to believe what he was saying, as much as you wanted it to be the truth, you just weren’t sure.

It wasn’t like he had years of experience by your side. The two of you might as well have been complete strangers, and even still, he felt completely comfortable making such heavy statements about you.

Naturally, you expected some sort of realization or step back on his part since you’d clearly gotten the better of him, but that never came.

It was clear that Tyson was genuinely just that clueless. There was no way he really believed those things about you, or that he really had any interest in what was best for you, he was probably just lonely.

Like you were.

Still, just when you thought you’d once again beat him with logic, Tyson smiled. It was the sort of thing that told you the wheels in his head were turning, that he was coming up with some cheesy crap that you couldn’t argue with.

...And of course, you were right.

“I can see it, it’s right there in the pools of your eyes” he hummed, only serving to confuse you further. He had this ability to say the deepest and most inspiring things as if they were no big deal.

You couldn’t help but struggle a bit with the idea that someone so pure and gentle could enjoy your company so much.

There were certain things that you’d come to understand about yourself since coming to Camp Halfblood, and one of those was that you were incredibly hard to get to know. To be fair, no one had ever put in a real effort to do it, but if they did, you were sure they’d have trouble.

You just didn’t do it well.

To you, it didn’t seem like Tyson should have been any different, but here he was. He’d made it farther in this conversation than most people did in months of knowing you, but that said more about him than you.

He was that kind of person, the kind of person who could find the best in even the worst people.

“It really doesn’t bother you that I'm y’know, evil?” You ask, taking a sip of your cherry soda through a glass straw, unable to keep yourself from biting down on the object slightly as your jaw tensed.

You thought you ought to ask, but that didn’t mean you were looking forward to having to hear his answer. As best you knew, this was going to be it and Tyson would just get up and leave, like he should have done at the start of this.

After a few seconds without an answer from him, you let yourself look at him, trying your best to gage his reaction to what you’d asked.

It wasn’t until this moment that you saw a hint of upset in the blue eye, staring you down as best he could without blushing. He wasn’t angry about your question, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to say what he wanted to.

The only thing that forced the words was his lips was the understanding of just how true they were.

“You aren’t evil, no matter what they say” He coos, a softness in his voice that felt almost intimate. It was something you hadn’t been expecting, but even more unexpected than that was the way your stomach flipped at his words.

Though, before you could say anything else, Tyson let go of your hand and left you all alone at your table, awestruck and at a loss for words.

[365footballorg-blog]

The 5 reasons soccer exceeded all expectation when MLS came to Atlanta

July 30, 20186:08PM EDT

As the MLS world descends upon Atlanta for the 2018 MLS All-Star Game presented by Target, we’re taking a look at what’s made the city’s team one of the most surprising and momentous success stories in league history. President Darren Eales has been with Atlanta United from the club’s inception and helped elaborate on the reasons for the remarkable rise of ATLUTD.

1. A team of their own

It’s a platitude that Atlanta is a city of transplants. In relation to the city’s major sports teams, it’s commonly been seen as a negative. Listless crowds have been considered a result of a city that cares about every team except its own. Atlanta United took advantage of a unique opportunity to turn that into a positive.

“People who are here are proud of Atlanta,” Eales said. “They’re proud to be here, but they of course carry the baggage of their previous city and their previous teams. If you’re from Philadelphia, you’re still cheering on the Eagles even though you’re living in Atlanta, you have kids in Atlanta and you love living in Atlanta. I think what we were able to do is create that club that was built around Atlanta, built around what it means to live in Atlanta and that’s become the one club that everyone is united behind.

“In retrospect that wasn’t something we were expecting to happen, but it’s one of the things I’m proud of. What I love is that we turned that narrative on its head. Now the story is about what a great story Atlanta is, because you just can’t argue.”

2. Arthur Blank loves a start-up (and his family)

Atlanta United owner Arthur Blank greets fans. | USA Today Sports Images

Arthur Blank turned the Home Depot from a local start-up to a Fortune 500 company. The mentality inherent in turning a start-up into an international success permeated through the day-to-day operations of Atlanta United before the team even had a name. It helped that Blank had an interest in soccer that hit close to home.

“From a business perspective, he was very bullish on soccer in America even when people were skeptical about soccer in the South. There’s an emotional angle, he met Angie, his current wife, on the soccer pitch. Their kids were playing. A number of his kids play soccer so he’s emotionally invested in soccer,” Eales said. “I think thirdly he’s a start-up guy. He obviously created Home Depot from scratch. There’s an element out of Atlanta United that he got a real buzz out of. You have all of those aspects from Home Depot and his experience that made him – as a leader with his vision and core values that he has across all his businesses – a joy to work for. That commitment to being a success was there right from day one.”

Beyond soccer, Blank carried with him the respect of the city, instantly providing the-then unnamed club a surge of validity. If “Uncle Arthur” was in, big things were coming.

“When you look at all the factors that have gone into the successful start that we’ve had in Major League Soccer it’s impossible to extract out each of them, but first I would say our owner,” Eales said. “The credibility he brought by bringing this team, the credibility he had already brought to Atlanta. he understood that you never get a second chance to start a club. He was prepared to bring me in 2 1/2 years before we kicked a ball to help plan the whole strategy.”

3. Making moments multiply

Leandro Gonzalez Pirez tapped in the first goal scored at Mercedes-Benz Stadium. | USA Today Sports Images

A large part of the business strategy involved creating capital “M” moments. Touchstones that the community could instantly identify as crucial to the creation and authentication of a club and culture.

“It was about creating moments where our fans could feel a part of the club and could get together. It was about creating those moments of passion because we weren’t going to have a game for nearly three years. That created that culture of this club being a part of Atlanta,” Eales said.  

To make those moments matter, Atlanta’s soccer team had to begin integrating its place into the community. Initially, Eales acted as the face of the club. The archives of Atlanta United social media are littered with pictures of Eales in costumes, in sweaters and, most importantly, in crowds around Atlanta preaching the gospel of Atlanta United.  

“[Being in the community] was fundamentally important to us as a brand-new club coming in because we couldn’t expect buy in from the fans if we weren’t giving back to the community,” he said.

The club found a way to connect with community, as well as create an on-field moment for its growing fan base through its youth academy. Not only did the academy – started before the first team in a first-of-its-kind move for MLS – demonstrate a commitment toward long-term success, but it allowed the area’s youth players, regardless of background, to become a part of the team. That community involvement meant that the first academy game drew over 2,000 fans. It also led to Atlanta United’s first Homegrown Player. 

“Explaining about Andrew Carleton as our first Homegrown and unveiling him at The Varsity where we had the go-pro in Arthur’s posh Mercedes van that picked him up and took him there, that gave people an insight in how we we’re building the club and what was important about the academy – [and] that was important about a Homegrown Player,” Eales said.

“I still go back to that game where he came on against Houston at the match at Bobby Dodd [Stadium]. One of our loudest moments of that season was Andrew coming on the pitch. I think that storytelling was part of it. He came on that pitch and everyone knew what it was to be a homegrown player. We created stars rather than just figuring we had to go and have someone who was a Premier League player for 20 years and bring him in.”

4. El Tata

ATLUTD head coach Gerardo “Tata” Martino has played a crucial role in the club’s rise. | USA Today Sports Images

It feels like the most obvious bullet on the list but it’s impossible to mention the success of Atlanta United without acknowledging the impact of Gerardo “Tata” Martino.  It’s hard to imagine South American players like Miguel Almiron, Josef Martinez and Tito Villalba turning to stars or even coming to Atlanta without El Tata at the helm. Those stars, along with Martino’s high-energy, high-scoring system, have created a culture that expects style to go hand in hand with results.

“He’s been one of the critical elements to what we’ve been able to build because ultimately with a soccer club it’s about what happens on the pitch,” Eales said.  “You want to play exciting attractive soccer and that goes to Tata who got the team to play the way he did from the first season and to continue that in the second season has clearly been a page a part of what we’ve been able to succeed.”

5. Atlanta’s reputation as a “Bad Sports Town”

Perhaps the most abstract reason of the bunch, and yet points 1 through 4 don’t happen without No. 5. For as long as anyone can remember – and even still – Atlanta has been known as a town that doesn’t care about its teams.  

“Literally the only negative I got from people when I took the job was almost a warning that ‘The town is really good … but do you realize that Atlanta is not a very good sports city?” Eales said. “They lost the Thrashers. The NHL teams they’ve had have come and gone. You go to Braves games, Hawks, Falcons, whatever pro sport it is they’re playing, teams like the Red Sox, the Green Bay Packers, the Chicago Bulls come and the stadium is going to be the opposition fans. It’s just really a fickle sports town.”

People assumed that soccer would be the same. That narrative became a challenge. That narrative forced the team’s hand. That narrative meant that the product had to be superb, or else.

“I think it goes from me all the way down that we’re ultra-competitive. It’s ‘The Bad Sports Town’ and we wanted to prove that wrong. We heard you can’t hire a foreign coach because they don’t work in MLS. There are these lazy, lazy throwaway clichés that you actually have to look behind to see if there’s merit to it. There was definitely an element to try and prove them wrong.”

In addition to pushing the team, it also pushed a city starved for championships — Atlanta has but one in major league sports since 1966 — that constantly heard from cities with stocked trophy cases how bad Atlanta was at caring.

“I think there was that element of people wanted it to be a success because they’re proud of the city. They hated this narrative that soccer wouldn’t work in the South. Or that Atlanta was a ‘bad sports city.’ And I think there was an element of pride their where they were hoping we were going to prove them wrong.”

So far? So good.

Series: 

Topics: 

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The 5 reasons soccer exceeded all expectation when MLS came to Atlanta was originally published on 365 Football