#atheletics

[pwnicholson]

Subaru Park

Philadelphia Union

[taxi-davis]

[dannimonart]

Digiworld Olympics 2024 Joon Volleyball by DannimonDesigns

[indusvalleyschool]

The Rise of Sports at Indus Valley Public School

Sports play a crucial role in the holistic development of students, and at Indus Valley Public School (IVPS), Sports Team have become an integral part of the curriculum. IVPS, a leading CBSE school in Noida, has been recognized for its excellence in sports, with achievements in athletics, football, basketball, badminton, cricket, table tennis, skating, karate, volleyball, and yoga. This article explores the rise of sports at IVPS, highlighting the school's achievements, infrastructure, and commitment to nurturing young athletes.

[banglakhobor]

অ্যাথলেটিক্সে সাফল্য ভারতের, ১০০ মিটার হার্ডলসে রেকর্ড গড়ে ব্রোঞ্জ জ্যােতির

<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>বেজিং:</strong> ট্র্যাকে দুরন্ত ফর্মে ভারতের জ্য়োতি ইয়ারাজি। এশিয়ান অ্যাথলেটিক্স চ্যাম্পিয়নশিপের পর এবার বিশ্ব ইউনিভার্সিটি গেমসে পদক জিতলেন এই ভারতীয় অ্যাথলিট। টুর্নামেন্টে রেকর্ড গড়লেন জ্যোতি। ১০০ মিটার হার্ডলসে নিজের রেকর্ড নিজেই ভেঙে দিয়ে ব্রোঞ্জ জিতে নিলেন এই তরুণী। ২৩ বছরের এই অ্যাথলিট মাত্র ১২.৭৮ সেকেন্ডে দৌড় সম্পন্ন করেন। এর আগে ২০২২ সালে…

[mysharona1987]

It sounds like literally thousands of many straight A+ students with perfect scores and after school activities apply to these colleges every year. Most don’t get in.

Honestly, unless, you are a star athlete, a legacy or have a parent with the means to donate millions and millions (looking at you, Jared Kushner), it is incredibly tough and competitive.

The real problem is legacies and wealthy donors. But since no one wants to go after rich people, let’s just blame black people.

[valyrfia]

lando liking hate comments on his instagram…brother put the phone down. take a deep breath. call a friend.

[heavenlyraindrops]

“ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ { ɪɪ }

☆ Warnings: profanity, sports!photographer!reader, fem!reader, afab!reader, social media au/smau, texting, profanity, pretty unserious tbh

☆ 1.3k words | Available on: Tumblr, AO3

Seeing the notification pop up in your dms was certainly a strange, albeit pleasant surprised.

It was from his account. Your fingers shook as you tapped the screen, opening the chat.

Hey, is this [name]? I just wanted to apologize again for breaking your camera.

You stared at it, unsure how to respond. 

For one, you had no social skills, and, secondly, this was the guy who was not only a massively famous and successful athlete but also a rando you’d been taking pictures of since school. You wondered if he’d scrolled down on your account to see the numerous images of him posted from your college days. 

Its fine, you replied nonchalantly.

On the other side of the screen, Kenji was going feral. “Fuck, Mina, she seems pissed.”

Mina simply stared at him (well, not stared but you know.) and he rolled his eyes at her lack of response, turning back to his phone.

Well, I’m more than willing to replace the stuff for you, he typed out quickly.

Your phone pinged. You frowned at the text. 

If you want ig. 

Oh? My god? Who the fuck replies like that?

While you were stressing out over your disgustingly dry, and even rude reply, Kenji was falling off his couch at seeing your message on screen. He cursed, elbow twisting awkwardly as he hit the floor, but he ignored it, holding the phone up. “She hates me, Mina.”

Mina glided through the air to hover over his face. “You’ll be fine, Ken,” she said. “Perhaps you could even befriend her. You said she went to your college.”

“Are you even listening to a word I said?! She hates me.”

His phone pinged and he stared at your second message. 

Sorry, I meant only if it’s not a hassle for you. 

Relief surged through him. it’s definitely not a hassle!

Well then in that case I don’t mind.

Within a couple of days you found new equipment waiting on your doorstep. You weren’t complaining- and it was an expensive model, too. Higher quality than the one you’d had before. 

Taika nudged you knowingly. “The Ken Sato got you that?”

“The Ken Sato was the one who broke it in the first place,” you grumbled in retribution, and she rolled her eyes but didn’t retort any further. 

“Text him to tell him you got it.”

“What?”

“Come on!” She shoved your phone into your hands, and your face burned. “Look, stop trying to deny you have the hots for him and just-“

“Okay!” exasperated, you lifted a hand. “I’ll do it.”

Hey just texting to let you know the stuff arrived btw, you sent.

You certainly hadn’t expected a reply only moments later.

cool! There’s nothing wrong with it, right?

“Isn’t he, like, a famous baseball star?” You muttered as you typed out a reply. “Isn’t he supposed to be busy?”

Taika wiggled her eyebrows. “Well, I wonder what that means for you if he’s replying so quickly then!” She squealed, and you smacked her away by the shoulder. 

Nope it’s great. It’s even better than the equipment I used before actually

Three dots appeared on your screen to indicate he was typing. And then:

Yeah haha now you can take even better pictures of me, right? Judging by your earlier posts you seem to be a pretty big fan.

You froze.

Taika froze.

On the other side of the screen, on his couch, Kenji froze.

“Was that too forward?” He muttered to himself. “Oh dammit, I was trying to make a joke.”

“Oh my god, I’m so fucked,” you said to Taika, pacing the room. “He saw the pictures.”

She clicked her tongue. “They were kinda sorta public for anyone to see. You’d basically showcased your entire crush on that account.”

“He’s gonna think I’m a psycho, or a stalker or something!”

“I bet he thinks you’re adorable.”

You stopped and turned and glared at her. She flicked her head at the device clutched in your hands. 

“Text him back, [name].”

With shaking hands, you did.

Is it obvious lmao? In that case I guess so.

Typing…

His reply lit up your screen.

Can’t wait to see what picture of me you post next ;)

-

You were feeling bold. You were feeling frisky. Perhaps a little… daring.

The next day, you decided to upload the final pictures the online magazine you were photographing for had chosen onto your instagram account.

And, of course, you picked the one of Kenji as the first one.

Not long after your conversation the other day, you’d seen that he’d decided to follow you back. You wondered what that meant, its implications, but brushed it off for fear of overthinking. 

You captioned the post “These were the chosen pictures for XY Sports Magazine! Glad to have played a role in blah blah blah blah blah blah Kenji please text me again blah blah.” 

And then you threw your phone down onto the couch, and waited. 

-

Kenji almost spat his drink out when he saw your very next post, the day after your conversation, and also to see that he was the first picture. 

What even is this? Flirting? Banter? What the fuck? I’m into it?

He debated between leaving a comment or a direct message, but settled for comment. It was flashier that way. According to him. 

“Glad to see I’m your muse,” he typed, and waited for you to see it. His heart was in his throat. 

-

Of course you saw it.

And you had no idea what to reply to it.

So you simply liked it, pinned it, and hoped that it spoke enough words that you were too flustered to type. 

-

This turned into a regular thing. He’d text you, you’d post him every time you were hired at a game he played at, he’d comment, people in the replies would go feral at his appearance in your comment sections, and then you’d text him. If he ever saw you at a game, on the sidelines of the pitch- not in the stands- he’d wink at you, and fuck that bastard knows my camera’s gonna end up pointed at him for most of the game, doesn’t he? 

You wouldn’t call it a friendship that you two had- you genuinely had no idea what the fuck it was, but you sure as hell weren’t complaining. 

You were lazing around in your bed- it was barely even morning, and you had an off day yet your son of a bitch that you called an internal clock had woken you up at six, when your phone pinged. You picked it up.

Kenji: hey can I have your actual number this time?

Kenji: beats dming you here 

You: sure it’s (xxx-xxx-xxx)

Kenji: thanks.

You stared into space.

Okay, maybe this… relationship between your two needed a label put onto it. You stared back at the screen.

It probably wasn’t going to happen any time soon. 

[caelanglang]

Letter to Mackerel… I miss you to the stars and back

continuation of the childhood AU I made :3

I hope our planets collide again...

continuation here

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Ingenio maximus, arte rudis.*

Ovid

Maximum ingenuity, raw technique.*

And God created Woman.

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

body control practice of chinese divers

[charybdisrevenge]

Yan Hong

[lastofthe20thcenturygirls]

What. A. SAVE.

[azdmathings]

Thursday in White!

This is a player's Normal View when he is called into the Coaches office

[anon-sect]

could you transform me into an athletic cup?

Kris had arrived for football practice and noticed that his atheletic cup was totally ruined. He had that cup for years. It was his lucky cup. He needed a new replacement, but a special one. He didn't want just any ordinary atheletic cup.

He came out and saw one of the nerds that had tutored him in the past. He called him over with a wave. "Travis, I need your help again." He asked him.

"What subject do you need help with now?" Travis asked him. He didn't mind tutoring the jock since he paid him well the last time.

"Come back to the locker room with me real quick, and I will tell you," Kris spoke, hoping Travis would follow him. He was pleased that he did. He happened to bring his TF Ray device with him to practice today. His last atheletic cup was a nerd he had tricked. The bad thing was he didn't give him the durability formula, or he would have lasted longer. He wouldn't make that mistake this time.

Travis walked into the empty locker room with Kris. "What subject and what days do you want me to come by?" He asked him. He then saw Kris pull out a stramge device and fire at him without saying a single word. He found himself shrinking in size. He felt a strange liquid poured onto him by Kris as he was smiling about it. He was finally reduced to an object that Kris picked up off the floor.

"Sorry about this, yet not really sorry. My last atheletic cup was completely ruined. That former nerd was completely done because I didn't put any durability formula on him." Kris paused, examining his new atheletic cup. "I can see that you have absorbed the formula well. You should last a lot longer than he did." He laughed as he put on his new cup. "Your help to me is to protect my junk for the rest of your life." He added as he put on the rest of his uniform.

Travis had no escape as he came face to face with Kris manhood. He did find the jock attractive, but he never expected to become an object to be owned by him. He mentally pleaded not to be stuck this way forever, but he knew his thoughts were falling on deaf ears. No one could hear him since he was just a common atheletic cup now, but not entirely too common. He was a living atheletic cup. Yet, to hear that the previous one was also a former nerd that was simply tossed away. He began to wonder if that might be his fate one day. He would rather be Kris's cup forever than simply be discarded as trash. This was his life now. He just needed to accept it.

[accioscarheadthings]

↳ 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗜𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗗𝗼𝘂𝗯𝘁 - 𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗸𝘆𝘂𝘂! 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

haikyuu x athelete!reader

summary - you have a bad practice session and you come home in a bad mood, mind buzzing with self-deprecating thoughts.

warnings - angst, self-deprecating thoughts, insecurities, anxiety attack

author's note: a little self-indulgent fic 'cause i had a bad day at volleyball practice. and ended up with a bloody nose:/

this is for all my athelete girlies who had a bad day at practice.

it sucks, i know. but the world doesn't end because of one bad day.

you are good enough. <33

featuring characters — SUGUWARA, DAICHI, KUROO, ASAHI, IWAIZUMI, OIKAWA, IWAIZUMI, OSAMU, AKAASHI

main masterlist !

the coach's decision to bench you during the previous match had hit you like a punch to the gut. you had stood on the sidelines, watching the game unfold without you, your mind swimming with self-doubts and insecurities.

the coach's words echoed in your head:

"what has gotten into you?!"

"you just weren't giving us what we needed then,"

the words stung, and you couldn't shake off the sense of worthlessness. you had watched your teammates play, and every mistake they made or point they lost had only fueled your doubts.

the feeling of not being good enough intensified, your confidence crumbling with each passing moment.

you felt your knee begin to bounce, worry bubbling within you. your breath coming out in low gasps and exhales.

you felt utterly worthless as if you didn't deserve to be on the team. the weight of your own failures and inadequacies seemed to pile up on you, pressing down on your chest and making it hard to breathe.

you couldn't help but believe that you had let everyone down, that you weren't cut out for this, and that everyone could see it.

you pressed down at your chest, inhaling and exhaling, trying to get your anxiety in check. you could feel your pulse increasing, a steady rise in thumping. sweat rolled down your temple, making its way down your trembling face.

the match was a tough one, with you making a series of costly mistakes that led to a 13-25 defeat.

it was a mere practice match, but that didn't make the loss any less brutal.

as you stood by the bench, watching the coach and your teammates discussing the strategy for the next match, you couldn't help but feel like you didn't deserve to be there.

your breathing became more shallow, and you wrung your hands at your sides, shaking them to drive the tension out of your body.

every failed play, every missed shot, every wrong decision replayed in your mind like a broken record.

for now, your pulse had slowed from the initial panic, but a new kind of pressure seemed to take its place.

your heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly, like a vice gripped it with relentless force. each breath felt labored, as though your chest was filled with a heavy weight that threatened to crush you.

you questioned your abilities and your place on the team, wondering if you were really up for the position.

you trudged into the apartment after the match, feeling utterly defeated.

"there's my girl!" your boyfriend greeted you with a warm smile, "how did the match go?"

but your mood was so low that you could only manage a brief, half-hearted hug and a muttered greeting, "hi. was okay,"

he frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, his concern deepening when you didn't kiss him in greeting.

you made a beeline for the bedroom, shutting the door behind you and collapsing onto the bed.

the solitude of the room allowed your thoughts to run wild, as doubts and insecurities threatened to drown you.

you were consumed with a sense of failure and the weight of disappointment that came right with it.

i'm so bad at this game

maybe i should quit

my coach must think i suck

the team is better off without me-

you sat up slowly, facing the full-length mirror on the side of the room.

your eyes raked over the jersey you were wearing, down to the number on it.

your vision blurred and you swiped at them angrily.

angry at your inability to perform to your fullest potential.

angry at your-fucking pathetic-self

"y/n," he came into the room and kneeled in front of you. he had an idea of what may have happened and reached your side at once.

you turned away, not wanting to be seen in this sorry state. weak and fragile.

what good am i for him anyway if I'm so broken?

you pushed away that thought, feeling your throat close up, "i don't wanna talk about it,"

everything annoyed you at this point. the air of failure and agony around you, the rapid beating of your merciless heart, low breaths that came out as huffs, the jersey number you wore with utmost humiliation.

he held your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheekbone, "hug or talk?"

it was a common phrase that you both used in a severe case of bad days.

"neither," you mumbled, not yet meeting his eyes.

he knew it meant you were in desperate need of a hug. you were just too prideful to ask for it.

"what is it, love? is it something i can help with?" he prodded, "is it the game?"

you stilled, pursing your lips, confirming your boyfriend's statement.

"it was so so bad. the worst by far. i don't know what the fuck i was doing. i was so shit-faced," you rambled, "i feel useless. I'm so behind others. maybe i should just quit, instead of making a fool of myself," you covered your face with your palms, fingers digging into your teary eyes.

his heart ached as he saw your lips tremble. he could see the doubt and vulnerability in your eyes, and it only served to strengthen his determination to make you believe him.

"hey, listen to me. it's okay to be disappointed about the game. but you didn't mess up. you did your best, and that's all that matters. everyone makes mistakes, and it's part of the game. you can't blame yourself for everything, okay?"

you shook your head slowly in denial, jaw ticking as you struggled to hold yourself together.

his heart broke at your devastated condition, "baby, don't do this to yourself. i know you're upset and probably blaming yourself for what happened, but you have to understand that it's not all your fault. it's a team sport, and everyone makes mistakes. you can't dwell on it and beat yourself up over it. that's not going to help anything,"

"i could've helped it!" you snapped, "i could've helped it if i-i-," you sputtered, searching for the right words, "if i wasn't such a fucking loser," you added the last bit in a shaky voice and the dam broke.

he rested his forehead against yours in comfort, watching the way tears cascaded down your cheeks, "that's not true. don't talk about yourself like that. you're not a loser. you're a determined and talented athlete. you just had a bad game, that's all. one day doesn't define you as a person or as a player. you work hard, and i know you'll do better next time,"

"i feel like i've lost myself," you mumbled weakly.

despite hearing the defeated tone in your voice, he noticed your bouncing knee, the rapid breathing, the rage- oh my god

"baby, i need you to take deep breaths for me, okay? i'm pretty sure you're experiencing an anxiety attack,"

"i have for the past 3 hours," you sniffled, knowing it very well. you screwed your eyes shut and forcing more hot tears down your cheeks, "i can't stop it. it won't stop. it hurts too much but-" you gasped for air, "i deserve all this pain don't i?"

"shh, shh," he sat on the bed next to you, pulling you onto his side and wrapping his arms around you.

his heart ached when you whimpered and he rested his chin on the top of your head. he could feel the tension and self-doubt radiating off of you, wanting nothing more to soothe your worries.

"no you don't deserve it," he held you tighter, feeling you sob silently against his chest, "don't carry this around," he peppered kisses on your hair, holding you against his large frame, "you're not alone, mkay?"

"i don't even know why i'm crying," you sniffled, "god, i need to get a grip,"

"no, it's okay. let it out. nothing wrong in that, you don't need to justify your emotions. i'll hold you through it,"

he held you tighter as you sobbed, his hand rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles.

he didn't say anything, just let you cry and release your emotions, his body serving as a source of comfort and support.

he talked you through it, whispering into your ear until you calmed from your anxiety peak.

"that's it. you're dooing so well. give me deep breaths, just like that. mm good girl," he whispered, his voice soft. "it's okay. just let it out. i'm here. i'm not going anywhere,"

he reached up a hand to wipe away the tear, his touch gentle and tender, "what do you say i draw you a bath, huh?"

"will u join me?" you looked up at him with hopeful eyes, red from all the waterworks.

"i want you to run me over with a car, if i ever say no to that question, ever," he stated in a monotone voice, causing you to let out a teary chuckle.

and so you and your lover were relaxing in the bathtub, surrounded by a warm, comforting glow of candlelight. the soothing heat of the water was helping to loosen your tense muscles, and the bubble-filled surface created a private, intimate space for the two of you.

as you sat nestled between his legs with your back to his chest, he listened quietly, his eyes fixed on you as you vented about your frustrations with the recent game.

he didn't interrupt, but rather offered a sympathetic nod or gentle touch, letting you speak your mind and release your pent-up stress.

"-and then the next thing i knew, i got benched," you shrugged weakly, biting your lip in thought.

he kissed your hair and you eaned back into his body, "s'okay, darling," he soothed.

you huffed in annoyance, waving your hand through the water.

He spoke gently, his voice soft and reassuring in the quiet intimacy of the bathtub. "y/n, you're incredible. I've watched you play and you become possessed by the game, completely pouring your passion into it. and i admire it. how much heart and soul you put into every game. I'm proud of you,"

his words caught you off guard, feeling how much it touched you. no one has ever told you that. and it felt foreign.

like you didn't deserve to hear it.

you hummed in response, grateful that he couldn't see the vulnerable expression on your face.

but he knew you well, and he recognized the underlying emotions behind your subtle reactions.

he gently tilted your head over your shoulder, looking at you intently. "look at me," he said, his voice firm but caring.

as you met his gaze, he repeated his words with a sincerity that resonated deep within your soul. "i'm proud of you," he said again, his voice filled with conviction.

as you processed his words, you felt a mixture of emotions stirring within you. you nodded, managing a weak smile, but the weight of his words and the raw vulnerability they stirred up made you inhale sharply.

it felt like he was touching upon something deep within you, something fragile yet beautiful.

gently, he shifted your position so that you were now straddling him in the water, creating a soft, rippling barrier in the warm, candlelit bath.

he caressed your thigh under the water, the contact sending shivers down your spine. his other hand held your chin, keeping your gaze locked on him, "I am proud of you," he repeated, the truth of his words reflected in his steady eyes.

you could feel tears welling up in your eyes. the variety of emotions building within you were almost too much to contain.

he pulled you closer, his arms enveloping you in a tight, loving hug, and pressed his lips to yours in a firm kiss.

you reciprocated the action, resting your hand on the side of his face. the bubbles and water were like a soft, warm cocoon around you both.

he hugged you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. he held you close, anchoring you in the moment with his love.

the water lapped around you both, creating a gentle, lulling rhythm. he trailed his lips down your jaw, cheek and to the column of your neck.

"but i'm not just talking about your skills," he continued, his voice growing softer as he spoke. "i'm proud of the person you are. you're strong, determined, and fiercely passionate. you never give up, no matter how tough things get." his words hung in the air, filling the quiet space with a sense of warmth and reassurance.

you could feel yourself starting to relax in his arms, the weight of his words and their implication slowly seeping into your heart.

you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his, letting his words into your hurting heart.

his thumb traced lazy patterns on your back and his other hand gently massaged your thigh, the contact creating a trail of sparks that raced under your skin.

he let the moment linger, giving you time to process the emotions his words had stirred up. the water continued to ripple gently around you as if echoing the turbulence within you.

"you're amazing," he finally said, breaking the silence, "amazing, and worthy, and strong. and i am proud of you for that. always,"

you felt a lump forming in your throat again, the raw honesty in his voice almost too much to bear.

but you also felt a strange sense of relief, as if his words were like a balm to the bruised parts of your soul.

the tears started flowing again, but this time they were different. they were born out of a mixture of gratitude, love, and a quiet acceptance of the truth in his words.

he held you through it, not saying anything else, but just being there for you.

and that was all you needed.