#my coordination for ball to hand sports is bad

[hshouse]

I need financial compensation for how much GOLF content these men I stan force upon me. ban golf!!!!!!!

[acowardinmordor]

Ignore what I did to ages timelines and canon to make this ficlet work. This is for @eddiezpaghetti and is, I promise, an actual event from my high school life. Mine was the football captain and star quarterback though. 😇

Deep Breath

Eddie was not an athletic guy. It didn’t matter that his fine motor skills were excellent with a pen or his guitar, the big picture version with hand eye coordination and ability to do anything even closely connected to sports was crap. So he never did sports for longer than a few days when he was young enough his mom was still around and encouraging him.

Any accidental skills he learned while wearing a uniform evaporated in the decade since his mom died. Then he met kids who didn’t make fun of him about sports, realized he could have friends without the ‘friendly’ sportsmanship, and Eddie didn’t look back.

Nerd for life. Sports for never.

Then Eddie was turning 11, and his dad had a chance for a ‘great job’ in Colorado. First in Pueblo. Then just north of the border into Wyoming. And then, in a little town halfway up the side of the mountains near Cañon City, while his dad went to Florence most days. Al usually managed to be home a couple nights each week during those years, Eddie found a book called a Player’s Manual and some friends, and that was that.

So, when the mysterious job his dad had been working all that time went bad, and a major news story about an attempted breakout at Florence ADX, when cops showed up to arrest Al, Eddie ran into the trees, up the trail and kept hiding for a day or two.

He wasn’t an athlete, but he knew how to sprint, he knew how to hide, and life with Pops made damn sure Eddie knew how to keep quiet. He was seventeen, and knew some states would try him as an adult for all the shit he’d helped Al do.

Eventually they sent a park ranger with a dog instead of a cop. A few days later, his Uncle Wayne greeted him with a massive hug in Hawkins, Indiana.

The next day, he was enrolled at Hawkins High, as a junior in limbo. Colorado did classes in trimesters, Indiana did them in quarters, and through some kind of Evil Machinations, he had eight registered classes, only two of which were needed to advance to senior year.

The other six?

Theater. Jazz Band. Study Hall. Study Hall. PE. Another Study Hall.

And.

Advanced PE.

He argued that he shouldn’t have to take non-required courses. They informed him about Indiana Laws on Truancy. He argued he’d rather take five Study Halls. They cited policy. He begged to take chemistry and biology instead. They refused.

Thus was the cruel hand of the Universe, demanding he participate in not just one stupid sports ball class — where, at least, there were other nerds to hide with— but a second, where student athletes were put so they had an easy A, and extra time to workout or stretch or whatever.

He skipped the first one and immediately learned about those truancy laws.

The next week, defeated and miserable, but still running late, he donned the grey tone garb, and stepped into Advanced PE.

Which was the exact moment he noticed the first flaw in his previous assumption.

A class full of sporty kids meant a class full of people who ranged from hot to gorgeous to ‘as long as she isn’t speaking’ all bent in amazing shapes as they stretched and warmed up. Including a guy with hair from a commercial and lips that would be borderline illegal in the Bible Belt.

Eddie was definitely going to die of lack of blood in his brain at some point in the next nine sessions of this class.

At least he remained the antithesis of sporty. The polar opposite of whatever Farrah Fawcett had going on. He could lurk and not participate, ogle until his poor bisexual heart broke, and still be good to go into Senior year.

Except. A few more things leading up to the one that really mattered.

The coach was a little annoyed that his star athletes were putting in the minimum effort.

The other kids were shooting him dirty looks.

The coach was pretty good at sussing out the best leverage on teens.

And.

Unlike Eddie, coach knew the natural effect of living at high elevations for six years.

—

And see, it cannot be overstated that Eddie was not a sports-guy. But he did need to run (away) sometimes. Hearing that they were running six laps, at your own pace, was excellent. Then the sweetener: once you were done, you could cool down and be done for the day.

He wasn’t going to sprint, but a quick jog followed by half an hour napping on the bleachers? Yes please.

Whistle blown, clock started, and off they went.

It really, truly, cannot be overstated how much Eddie was not trying to be a little shit or that he wasn’t trying to go fast.

To be fair to Farrah up at the front, none of them were going fast. Eddie didn’t have practice after class like they did, and he badly wanted that napping time.

By the end of the first lap, Eddie and Farrah had pulled away from the others a ways, by the end of the second, Eddie had pulled ahead. And he kept pulling ahead. And ahead. Rolled his eyes as he caught and then lapped the rest of the class. They had some choice words for him as he went by.

Put some extra distance so he wouldn’t have to hear it. Got far enough by lap four he had a good view of Farrah’s ass, and was mentally writing a description for pathetic, but attractive court buffoons to use once he found a dnd group.

The coach was annoyed though, and knew exactly where to push.

“Harrington if the new kid laps you, I’m benching you for the rest of the year and I’ll make Jason Captain in the fall!” Came blaring through a bullhorn.

Farrah Harrington full on stumbled at that, head whipped sideways to stare. Gape? Slow down running as what sounded like a peak-jock-threat was leveled at him.

And Eddie wasn’t trying to be a lot shit at the start of this, but he damn well was now.

Eddie found out later the science stuff, but in the moment he decided it was either magic, or because he was used to dodging things as he ran up poorly maintained hiking trails in the Rockies. Cause now that he was trying?

No damn clue why he wasn’t dry heaving as he collapsed on the track to die.

No clue why he was closing the distance as they went into the last straight of the fifth lap, despite Harrington visibly realizing the coach was serious.

The magic theory was dismissed when Eddie didn’t easily lap the guy. They were around the first turn when Eddie got close enough that Harrington could turn to see him. Farrah was red faced and a little wobbly. Sure, Eddie was sweaty as fuck — it was way too hot for April, there should still be snow! — but he could do it. A little more effort, just enough to close another five feet, and he’d do it. Just about half a lap left. More than enough time. Eddie could be an absolute dick and lap Harrington, then get damn close to catching the rest of the class a second time.

The mere concept of their agony almost had him going for it. Who was he if he didn’t take a moment to gloat though?

He pulled level, tilting his head with a smile the drama teacher called “impressively deranged” planning to stay there until the turn, then actually sprint for the first time without cops behind him.

But Harrington turned to him, out of breath, red faced, plush lipped, with great hair, an ass worthy of songwriting, and gave Eddie the most desperately adorable puppy eyes god or man had ever crafted.

Eddie didn’t freeze, but the guy was hot, and maybe, maybe, he didn’t want to make him sad.

So he wasn’t a dick.

But he was a little shit, and he kept pace the rest of the way round. With his body half turned and awkward. With his dimples going crazy. With every person in the class well aware that it was an act of mercy by the new kid.

He even dropped back at the last second with a wink, letting Farrah cross the line ahead of him.

—

That was how Eddie became both beloved and beloathed by every sports kid on his third day in school. That was how he became the threat the coach used to intimidate the others. That was how the first rumor about witchcraft started.

That was not the day Eddie found out what coach had known.

No, he learned that the next fall, after running from monsters with Steve Harrington to keep a group of nerdy kids safe, overworking himself, vomiting on Steve’s shoes, and then bemoaning his lost magic in front of Dustin Henderson.

Who explained in detail how oxygen acclimatization worked.

—

If you didn’t know: when you live at high elevations, you get used to having less oxygen, so when you are suddenly at lower elevation, your body goes Woah! Free Oxygen! And you can do what Eddie did. It’s not permanent. A month or two if you don’t try to keep it, and it tapers off, but that’s more than enough time for Eddie to be a complete menace to the jocks. I know I was.

And obviously Steve thought this event was sexy, but he’s still with Nancy, and the boy is loyal. Eddie hates himself for not working to keep up his lung capacity the first time he and Steve hook up.

[azimachra]

You know what’s annoying? The fact that people are right about exercise. For years and years I told myself that I wasn’t an athlete. I’d tried more sports than I could count on my fingers and I was bad or disliked all of them. I’m slow so track didn’t work. Ice skating was fun but everyone started so much younger than I did and I felt like I would never catch up. My hand eye coordination and reaction time are actually terrible so tennis was a disaster. The list goes on.

Eventually I convinced myself that sports just weren’t for me. Everyone told me that being active in some way or another would improve my mood and help me get better sleep. I knew from experience that sports and being active would do nothing but make me (more) miserable. I relegated myself to the position of the eternal nerd. I didn’t need *sports* to live a fulfilled life or to feel good in my body.

Cut to a year and a half ago. I had some childhood experience with martial arts (I stopped in middle school because it wasn’t feminine enough or something like that) and decided after some of the quarantine restrictions lifted that I wanted to try again. the place I trained when I was younger went under during the height of covid and that sport was pretty rare so there was nowhere else to train. I chose a martial art I’d heard about at random - Brazilian Jiu Jitsu - and tried it.

I’d like to say that I was a prodigy, that I understood the sport instinctually, that I was praised by my coaches for my natural talent. That, unfortunately, would be a lie. I was downright terrible when I started. Everything was so difficult. Other people understood the principles and applications in a way that I couldn’t. It seemed like everyone was either way more advanced than me or twice my size. The first few months, I was learning techniques and training but I still didn’t get it. My coach told me that the instinct would come with time. I was worried that this would just be another piece of proof that I’m not athletic, that I don’t have the body or mental fortitude. I was scared of failing, but I loved the sport. Since then, I’ve massively improved. Some things that I struggled with before have fallen into place and I’ve found new things to struggle with. I’m competent for my level and I even competed in a tournament. Has it been easy? No. Do I always feel confident in my ability? Absolutely not. But BJJ has undeniably changed my life for the better. I feel more comfortable in my body, I’ve gotten stronger and more resilient, found a new community, and yes it totally has helped with my sleep schedule and emotional wellbeing.

While I love BJJ I am not promising that you will too (although it is amazing for self defense, a skill everyone benefits from but is extra useful to women and femme presenting folks in our current society). What I’m trying to say is that despite my years of disbelief it turns out that everyone was in fact correct about physical activity/sports being good for you. It also turns out that I was wrong about my belief that I was inherently un-athletic. I also want to say that you can do this on your terms. There are so many more ways to move your body than just hitting a ball with a stick or running in circles. Don’t let yourself stay trapped in a cage with fictional bars; in an 80’s movie trope where you can only be a jock or a nerd; in a mindset that limits you from being happy and healthy. Find something that makes you excited to do because I promise, it is out there.

[slow-slug]

(not) lonesome practicalism

AN: Okay first of all, the person who forced me into making tumblr account, please do not look at this post lmao I want to save my dignity, let's pretend it's not here. Second of all it's all @angelchigiri fault that I've written it, and thirdly it was not suppose to be that long but my hand slipped. And at the end I want to mention, english is not my first language and I do not have a beta, so yk, probably a lot of mistakes, sorry :,) Enjoy!

Its all fluff I promise! Oh and it's Chigiri x Reader ofc!

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

You pouted as the ball you just had kicked rolled not into the direction you wanted it to go. You had to admit it was a very pitiful picture, the net of the goal waved slightly with barely noticeable breeze, and the ball was, well, not in the middle of it as you wanted it to be. 

It was really frustrating, you were on the field that belonged to your old school, for quite some time now. Long enough that the sun started to set, and the hot summer temperature was slowly but surely becoming a chilly one. 

You felt like a fool, despite the fact that because of summer vacations no one was nearby, you still were feeling rather embarrassed. How was kicking a ball into the right direction so hard? It just never went the way you wanted it to go, honestly it was so silly, all you wanted to do was learn some basic football movements. That’s all! Was it so bad wanting to be more invested in your boyfriend's activities and passions?

You flopped down on the hard ground, feeling the artificial texture of it beneath your fingers. 

Sighhhh.

Honestly, Chigiri was so amazing in every way. He was caring, a gentleman in always asking about your mood, and making sure you were comfortable in everything you two were doing. Since you started dating, two months ago, suddenly your world felt a lot brighter and colorful. You spent so much time together, and when not, you were texting and sending stupid photos to each other. A true honeymoon phase in all its glory.

But the most important thing to you that he was doing was the way he was so invested in your hobbies and interests. You never had someone so, so genuinely interested in your passions. It was such an amazing feeling, when he sent you links to silly videos that he knew you would be interested in, and what's most important was the fact that he was never scared to spend time with you doing those activities. No matter what it was. Baking? He would research the best recipe that there exists. Dancing? Bring it on, with his coordination skills it was a lot of fun twirling together. Drawing? He wasn’t really good at it, but you still had the portret he drew of you, hanging up proudly above your desk. Hell, he even went shopping with you for new makeup products you needed and later, when you got back to your house, he did face masks with you and cuddled while watching some cheesy kdrama. 

And you wanted to return the favor, so, a whole week you spent walking to the field and practicing the damned football. It was your favorite thing, watching him being all excited about matches and scores. He smiled so widely and his eyes sparkled with such a real passion. And you wanted to be part of this world as well. 

You understood the rules of the game, knew the professional and more inside terms used for different moves, you were there for Chigir’s practice when you only could, you were watching matches with him and engaged in long discussions about them. 

The only thing is that, well, you kindly speaking, sucked at playing the actuall game. 

And it was so embarrassing! 

You heard your boyfriend's wishes that you could play some nice and short matches. He had never said it outloud, but you could read between the lines well enough that you understood his shy smiles and quick looks on the field when you were passing by it. So you did the only reasonable thing. Decided to learn this sport, at least a little bit, so you could surprise Chigiri and see his beautiful smile when you would show him the skills you had. 

You observed the slowly moving clouds. Well, you must admit that the practice you had, everyday for the whole week, was really effortless. Sadly. The ball never went in the direction you wanted it to go, you couldn’t run with it without losing it or falling on your face. You didn’t even attempt dribbling. 

You covered your eyes with your arm sighing quietly, and felt the frustrated tears to prickle them. This isn’t fair, you’ve seen so many matches, and Chigiri’s practices, so why couldn’t you repeat any of the things he did? 

The moment you decided to stand up and try again you felt someone laying down next to you also sighing quietly. Your tensed muscles relaxed as you felt your boyfriend’s comforting smell enveloping you. Dammit, you didn’t even hear him creeping on you.

You laid in silence for some time, breathing quietly. Then you felt his pinky touching delicately yours, and you smiled softly against your will. 

“Are you gonna tell me what you've been up to this past week?” He asked quietly not breaking the tiny physical contact he had with you. 

“It’s stupid” you’ve murmured. 

“It’s not if you spent so much time on it” he responded gently. 

That made you uncover your face and shift it so you could take a better look at him. Pink hair spilled around him, and tickled his perfectly looking skin. His pink eyes blinked at you, patiently waiting for your answer. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You’ve asked uncertainly, it was so stupid now that you looked at it. He nodded softly, enveloping your hand fully and giving it an encouraging squeeze. “I just wanted to learn some basic football I guess…” you turned your eyes to your hands observing the color of your skin. You heard a quiet oh, and your face flamed red. 

You’ve quickly sat up, and buried your head in your knees. That’s it for you, never coming back nope. And Chigiri was still silent! He did sit up with you, not so abruptly as you of course. He was always so smooth and elegant in every move. 

“You did?” He sounded weirdly breathless. You nodded without looking at him. You sat there in silence for a while. You wanted to go away, to stand and ask Chigiri to forget it, to never mention it again, so you can just skip this embarrassing chapter of your life. Yet, before you could act on those thoughts, you felt arms wrapping around you from behind and his hair tickle your nape when he leaned on it with his forehead. 

“Gods I love you so much.” He whispered in a hushed tone. You felt the warmth on your cheeks and the butterflies in your stomach. Chigiri never really says it outloud, his love is more hidden in gentle kisses and in the time you two spend together. You muffled a groan, his random declarations of love will always mean so much to you.

He stood up, and turned to be in front of you. When you looked up, the last sun rays made up a halo around his hair and the smile that graced his lips was so fond and kind. He put out a hand in your direction. 

“Come I’ll teach you.” And in what world would you say no to him? 

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

i feel cringe

[wirescorner]

I can just imagine them on tumblr like, they actually fucking suck

2 notes

📛 mygoodnessmeoffjollofrice Follow

A kid robbed me today, because “you’re too old for hello kitty” and took the beads i wanted from my hands. Here’s how I responded

I burnt down the store

8 notes

🕳 jgirlstfu Follow

“You’re the eldest in this house-” Extremely loud incorrect buzzer

#im actually a pretty princess who deserves to not do anything except eat sleep and be an inconvenience but ok

69 notes

🧥 jd-core Follow

Sending brain waves so they are convinced to start a homoerotic friendship with me

# apparently this is a bad idea because of consequences # that’s a problem for future me ig #💯💯💯

12 notes

🔁honeriah reblogged remindertonotdie

💟remindertonotdie Follow

Balls

🧵honeriah Follow

Banger post actually

16 notes

🔁remindertonotdie reblogged morgue

💟remindertonotdie Follow

Tutorial on how to remind someone they’re not ascending to godhood and they’re just dehydrated

🧱morgue Follow

Fuck you for this actually

#i didn’t even say your name??? #me when I get called out #GUILTYYYYY #DRINK WATER BITCH DONT COME TO ME WHEN YOUR HEAD IS ABOUT TI EXPLODE #🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 #<- you rn

59 notes

🔁jd-core reblogged honeriah

🧥jd-core Follow

Actually crazy how they aren’t madly in love with me rn

🧵honeriah Follow

Mp que les autres guys 😔

🧥jd-core Follow

Nvm cause they’re dumb asf

#mf use your brain it’s embarrassing to have a crush on you 🤦‍♀️ #crazy how I’m saying this when they’re literally my wallpaper

15 notes

📛mygoodnessmeofjollofrice Follow

The way I feel so sad whenever I see those “were you ACTUALLY a weird kid or are you just a poser?” posts and I just hear junko posing audios

I was a gacha kid bae not a danganronpa kid 💔💔💔

#like idk who’s supposed to be mercy #but just give me a single song from my glmv era and I will fuck it up HARD #even if I WAS a danganronpa weird kid I’d prolly still not be able to junko pose #thanks amazing coordination 🙏🙏🙏

49 notes

🧱morgue Follow

Ice cold water save me…

Save me ice cold water…

Ice cold water…

3 notes

🧷lmaove Follow

It’s actually crazy how people who don’t do sports will tell you, you suck at your sport

My brother in Christ why don’t you kill yourself

#Like commit suicide actually #esp the boys in my class #like if we’re friends that’s one thing #other wise shoot yourself in the head #rant #sports

29 notes

🧷lmaove Follow

Nvm I was just sleepy

#sleep solves all problems actually 🎀🎀🎀

[itsaash]

unsatisfyingly satisfying part 1: Dead End

Today is a different story, a Coops one that starts as ... not Coops. I wrote this maybe 4 months ago, just writing for me as a way of processing, for awhile I really didn't think I'd share this. BUT then, with the prompts of @noots-fic-fests I thought of a parts 2&3. also what's scarier/more of a dead end than Sirius Black with a woman? So this is Sirius' last time with someone other than Remus, and in the next part I'll time skip to present day, so no hard feelings if this isn't for you and you want to wait for the next part. Rated E, 6000 words if you click through to ao3 to read the whole thing. I'm just going to put the first 1300 words, rate T, here on tumblr which is as much James and Sirius banter as anything.

“Your aim is way off.”

“Pardon?” Sirius looked up, part genuinely confused and part annoyed. He had marvelous hand eye coordination. He was good at pool. His aim was not off. 

“It’s not going to go in, that’s all I’m saying.”

Sirius didn’t recognize the voice of this unhelpful spectator, but James was clearly already laughing and joined in on the taunts. So Sirius solidly ignored them and took his shot. And missed. 

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, hitting the end of the pool cue down into the hardwood floor of the hotel bar. 

James laughed in victory as he lined up his next shot. 

Sirius looked around for the source of the “advice”, and oh. There she was. Smirking at him over a tumbler of amber liquid. 

“Told you,” she smirked. 

“It was not way off, it was millimeters. And I’m still going to beat this fucker. All I have to do is steal his glasses.”

“Don’t you fuckin dare, Pads,” James said. He took his shot and sank the ball. “You’d never stoop to cheating. Don’t let our new friend here think such a thing of you.” 

James walked behind the girl and from over her shoulder he gave Sirius an eyebrow wiggle that looked eerily like caterpillars dancing and mouthed talk to her, before turning to line up his next shot. 

Sirius rolled his eyes and took a sip of his own drink, watching James line up his shot. 

“Obviously I wouldn’t cheat , Pots. Taking your glasses would be more of a … prank.”

“A prank,” James snorted. 

“Ouais. And a successful one.”

“Stealing my glasses, that I medically need, is not a prank, man. That would be cheating .” He turned to the girl. “Back me up here.”

She smiled and tilted her head, mock thinking. 

“Yeah, I agree. Taking something medically necessary isn’t a prank. That would be mean . And I know someone invited to this weekend of ‘celebrating the best in sports’ wouldn’t be mean , would they?”

Teasing infused her every word, and although Sirius didn’t usually like new people, her vibe was so chill that Sirius didn’t have his back up at all. 

“No, of course I, who plays hockey for a living and bodychecks people everyday, would never be mean ,” Sirius retorted, a smirk growing on his lips. He stepped as casually as he could towards James’ drink and poured some of his whisky into James’ beer. When James went to take a swig of beer he would get a surprise at the strength of the alcohol content. 

“That’s not a fucking prank either! Tampering with a drink. Tut tut Sirius Black, you are terrible at this.”

“I'm not tampering , it’s Pots!”

James turned back to them after missing his latest shot. 

“Tampering! What’d he do?”

“Put some whisky in your beer,” the girl tattled. 

“Hey, come on, if you tell him he won’t take too big of a swallow, and the prank is ruined!” Sirius groaned.

James laughed and took a cautious sip, smirking at Sirius over his glass. There was no gagging or sputtering. Sirius waved a wrist around towards James, while looking at the girl with raised eyebrows, like he could waft his displeasure at the lack of reaction towards her. 

“Hey! It’s not my fault you're bad at pool and pranks. I'm just telling you what I see,” she said, eyes gleaming. 

“Oh ho, ok then. Come line up this shot with me if you're so good,” Sirius said. 

She stood at the opposite side of the table from him and corrected Sirius on his line, and he made the shot. They did it again, and he sank another ball. 

“Hey! As cute as this is, this also feels like cheating,” James protested. She laughed and mimed zipping her lips, and Sirius missed the next shot. 

“Merde,” he muttered, leaning on his cue. “I am usually good at pool, even without a coach. What’s your name, o pool master?”

“I’m Rebecca. And I’m kind of glad to see you’re not perfect at everything. Makes you more human,” she said. 

Sirius rolled his eyes and James piped up, “oh there’s lots of things he’s terrible at.”

“Pots, come on —”

“Ooh, like what? Other than pranks of course?”

“Well cooking and cleaning are the obvious ones, but also making plans, doing interviews, obviously …”

“Potter, come on, arrêtez ça—”

“… speaking English when he’s upset…”

James had Rebecca laughing behind her glass and Sirius shot them both a mock serious glare. 

“In his defense, I heard some of his interviews today and the way they all asked him the same questions would drive anyone to terrible answers,” she said. 

“I did not give terrible answers!” Sirius protested. 

“Are you here for the ultimate sports magazine special too then?” James asked her. 

“Yeah. I’m on the Olympic rugby team. You probably saw us being awesome and getting a silver medal at the last Olympics, so a few of us from the team are here.”

“Oh, sick. That’s awesome. Yeah, his answers are pretty bad sometimes aren’t they?” James said, looking at Sirius all the while. 

“Oh my god, I’m right here, stop it you two,” Sirius said, going to stand between James and Rebecca, trying to split up their alliance. He secretly loved James’ teasing though. James was the perfect social lubricant. Being around people was just easier, better, when James was there. 

There had been at least a dozen interviewers asking him variations of the same question today, none of which were topics he wanted to talk about. He could’ve given them a whole feature on hockey. On his team. But no, they wanted to know about his family and parents and rivalries and standings and if he’s found a nice girl in Gryffindor yet and he wanted to scream . And there had been a photo shoot. It was awful. So Sirius was 3 whiskeys in and was trying to forget this day had ever happened and was definitely trying to forget that there was another photo shoot tomorrow. At least James was here too. The interviews with him there always went better. 

“How did your interviews go?” Sirius asked Rebecca, wanting to stop talking about himself. 

“Oh, fine. I was with my teammates for all of them, so that helps. Lots of lovely comments that start with ‘so, girl’s rugby!’. After which I’d stare them in the eyes and remind them that’s not actually a question, and that it’s women’s rugby and we are an Olympic sport thank you very much.”

Sirius smiled at her fierce reenactment. “I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of you, I’m glad I’m not a reporter. Or a rugby player.”

“That’s the reason you’re glad you’re not a reporter? I would’ve thought it would’ve been all the reading and writing,” James quipped. 

“I can read and write,” Sirius said, punching James in the shoulder. He turned back to Rebecca. “Ignore him, I can read.”

“Sure, I believe you,” she said. They watched James sink his final ball, celebrate with his arms in the air, and Sirius groaned. 

“Rebecca, I thought you were nice .”

“I definitely never said that. Ok, my turn Black, let’s see what you’ve got. Put those soft hands of yours to use.”

Rebecca and Sirius played a game of pool, and James threw jokes at them and drank, getting louder. Then Rebecca continued her winning streak and beat James, so they switched to darts and then somehow found things to juggle. Rebecca was the clear winner of juggling, but Sirius was very proud to be leagues better at it than James. She fit into their dynamic perfectly, the evening felt as relaxing and fun as a night with James alone would have been. She knew the same sports references they did, she was obviously athletic and competitive, and joined in all the good natured chirping. 

Which was why Sirius was really fucking confused when she kissed him. 

read the rest on ao3

[hollowtones]

do you like to play sports! wham pow!

I've never been much for team sports because I got real bad hand-eye coordination in most of 'em. Rugby in high school was fun because I let everyone else on my team handle Ball & then I could just focus on knocking people to the ground.

I like track-and-field type stuff (running, jumping, etc.) and I like swimming and I like lifting. Is roller derby a sport? I've never actually done roller derby but I wanna try some day.

[brownhairedbookworm]

"Track? That's... speed-running, right? I did something similar at the World Detective Organization..." A lot of it, actually. It wasn't like they knew where to start with a girl so clueless and naive. The best they figured was taking her stamina-based Forte to it's limits, and a lot of that involved, well... track and field like drill runs. Her hand-eye coordination wasn't too bad either, as the target practice demonstrated, but this was clearly like... the first time Fubuki ever handled a basketball. Somehow, though, she did manage a single basket, throwing her hands up as her score went from 00 to 01.

"Speed running, specifically in a loop around a race-track. I actually was pretty fast, back then!" She laughs. "Not that you'd be able to tell, looking at my legs, these days."

Monika gives Fubuki a quick clap, before getting back to her own failure at the ball sport.

[funkymbtifiction]

I'm an INTJ in my early 30s.

The way I was raised, I practiced zero sports, not even stretching. During most of my 20s I was severely depressed and also didn't move much.

I've made huge progress since, but it's mostly been in the mental area. I have great friends, I'm very empathic, I can talk surprisingly well and be charming, etc... Kudos on me for that :)

But I'm ashamed of how stiff my body is. I live in a place where nearly everyone is sporty, and I'm afraid I will fall behind in social groups and age in an ungraceful way if I don't get better at sports.

I've tried a few things, but I'm painfully bad at everything, and I feel an embarassment so big that it paralyses me, especially when it comes to group sports. The other day I was invited to play volley with friends but I only did for 5 minutes - I pretended I was hurt so it would be socially acceptable for me to stop playing. Then I just felt like a loser and an outsider while everyone else had fun.

Do you have any tips for me to overcome this paralysing fear? Can a stiff 33yo INTJ even be good at any sports?

Thank you for your blog.

I share your frustration -- not in terms of desiring to play sports (ugh) but in terms of not being flexible or energetic in a sensory way. The good news for both of us is that you can become more flexible -- do some research on it, maybe track down a good YouTube instructor, and spend three to six months doing flexibility stretching a day, and you should see improvements. It may not help you be be a better natural athlete, but it will hurt less and allow you to bend more.

Like you, I am stiff and uncoordinated. I joked recently to an ENFJ friend that trying to do aerobics is like being a jellyfish on land. I just sort of flop in all directions and it takes me ten minutes to figure out how to mimic what they are doing and by then they have moved on. I find it stupidly hard to do two things at once -- even something as simple as punching with one hand and swinging my foot inward. She told me it's the same for her and that Pilates helped her a lot, because it's a lot slower and kinder to awkward people. I've been doing it for the last week and I do see some improvements and it is a lot easier to get the hang of, so that may be something you could do in the privacy of your own home to get more limber, more exercise, and more in touch with your limbs so that when you go out and do sporty things with your friends, it will feel a bit more natural and less like being a jellyfish trying to learn the rumba in a volcano. The more in touch you learn to be with your body, the easier you will find it to be more coordinated, to breathe properly when playing ball, etc.

I follow Bailey Brown but there are many others to choose from. (Go to YouTube as well and type in "improve flexibility.") Make sure you warm up before you do any exercises, so you don't hurt yourself!

[theinternetisaweboflies]

Gates to Heck by girlinstory (Chapter 1)

This story is a follow-up to the omake "Teaching Mob Basketball > Anti-terrorism", in which Teru does a vigilante-justice speedrun so he can teach Mob how to dribble.

The omake can be read here.

"Hanezawa-kun?"

"Hey, Kageyama-kun! I hope you weren't waiting too long. Sorry I couldn't meet up with you until today. I know there's a time crunch, but I was able to brush up on a few drills that I think will really help you out at the inter-class game."

"I didn't realize basketball was such a dangerous sport." If anyone other than Shigeo had said that, it would have been sarcastic, but Teru knew better.

He should have gone to Sephora. Teru had used up the last of his Benefit Cakeless Full Coverage after dealing with Bloody Rain, and the only waterproof stuff he had left was Maybelline Super-Stay.

Teru waved him off. "Oh, this? Ha ha ha. No, Kageyama-kun, I just had a little accident the other night. It's not as bad as it looks though."

"It's not?" Shigeo tilted his head to one side. "Isn't it covered up with makeup though?"

"Oh, uh… Just a little. You know how vain I am! Ha!"

"Why do you keep saying the word 'ha'?" asked Shigeo.

"Ha," said Teru before he could stop himself. "Well, it was pretty cringe of me, I guess. I tripped over my own feet, right in front of the whole school. If that didn't finally destroy my old urabanchou status, I don't know what will." Teru managed something approximating an actual laugh this time. His acting skills had gone to pot since he started this whole honesty thing.

He wanted to be honest with Shigeo, but this was just a little white lie. Everyone told little white lies. Probably even Shigeo.

"You're lying, aren't you, Hanezawa-kun?"

Probably not Shigeo.

"What? No, I-"

"You already said it happened at night."

Maybe Teru's fever was worse than he'd thought.

"You're right, Kageyama-kun. I'm sorry for lying. The truth is that I'm embarrassed about how I really hurt myself, and I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh." Shigeo seemed to be considering this. "I can understand that. Are you sure you shouldn't be resting though? That shoulder looks pretty bad too."

"Nonsense!" The shoulder had popped right back in, and he had almost the full range of motion already. "I'll mostly just be coaching anyway. I'll only have to demonstrate a few things to get you started. Most of the work is going to be drills. It gets repetitive, but you must be used to that from your club, right?"

Shigeo nodded.

"Great! So the five basic skills that make up basketball are shooting, dribbling, defending, rebounding, and passing. We're going to start with dribbling, because it's the most rudimentary, but also one of the most difficult. It involves coordinating your whole body at once. We'll start with just dribbling in place and then move on to traveling with the ball. Sound good?"

Shigeo nodded again, his nose scrunched up in concentration. Teru pulled a basketball out of the bin and dribbled it a few times to demonstrate the correct form. He'd gotten permission to use the court at Black Vinegar since the Basketball Club was at an away game.

Shigeo was still struggling with his hand-eye coordination after twenty minutes of dribbling, and Teru started to think he should have prioritized this over the terrorists.

"You're doing fine. Try snapping your wrist, but not too-"

Shigeo snapped his wrist too hard, and the ball bounced away towards the bleachers. Again.

"No worries! I'll grab it." Teru jogged over to the bleachers and bent down to pick up the ball. When he straightened back up, the edges of his vision started to darken, like someone had just used the vignette tool on his eyes.

Teru had passed out enough times to know the drill. He sat down before he could fall down and crack his skull open on the gummy gymnasium floor.

"...zawa-kun! Hanazawa-kun, please wake up!"

Shigeo's voice sounded muffled even though he was speaking much louder than usual. Teru couldn't even hear his own voice when he responded, but he could feel his lips form the words.

"I'm fine."

"You passed out."

The world was starting to come back into focus, and Teru realized he was propped up against a very sweaty shoulder.

"I just got a bit dizzy. It's no big deal. A little water, and I'll be-"

"No," Shigeo interrupted him. "I'm taking you home now."

Teru could already tell it wasn't worth arguing, so he didn't even try. He even let Kageyama-kun buy him a juice from the vending machine.

"I'm sorry, Hanazawa-kun," Shigeo said, as soon as they were walking towards the station. "It wasn't fair of me to ask you for what I did. I'm grateful you're willing to teach me how to play basketball, but I can't expect to win a game against experienced players with only a week of practice."

Teru didn't know what to say to that, but his mouth seemed to have its own ideas. "Isn't the person you're interested in going to be watching?"

"She probably won't be watching me," said Shigeo, matter-of-factly. There was a pause while they got on the train and Shigeo ducked between two salarymen to stake out a seat. He maneuvered Teru into it before grabbing the strap above his head.

"Actually, she's part of the reason I realized that I was being unfair to you," said Shigeo. The salarymen were arguing loudly, and Shigeo's soft voice was probably inaudible to anyone but Teru. "When we were young, she would ask me to do difficult things for her, like shooting games and math. Then she would stop paying attention to me as soon as I did them. I don't want to treat people like that. It was rude of me to ask you for a favor when we haven't spent any time together since you helped me save Ritsu."

"No, it wasn't! I'm happy to help! I mean, I will be, once I actually… help…" Teru trailed off anticlimactically. He needed this to go well, or Shigeo wouldn't ask him for help again, and then they'd never have a reason to see each other. Teru could only "accidentally" bump into him so many times.

"I think I would rather help you right now," said Shigeo.

That one was kind of a stumper, but Teru was saved the trouble of responding when they pulled into his station.

The walk back to his apartment was silent, mostly because Teru was concentrating on not passing out again. When they arrived, he fumbled his keys, flushing from a combination of embarrassment and fever.

Teru shouldn't even have a fever. He had taken down Final Dog and Gates to Heck in one night. He'd just gotten a little sloppy when he was dropping them off with Joseph. One of the Final Dogs had grabbed his shoulder, kneed him in the face, and almost unmasked him.

Teru didn't want the psychic terrorists to learn his identity, but he really didn't want the shady government mercenary to learn his identity. He was always careful to keep his aura in check around Joseph, who seemed perfectly comfortable with their backdoor dealings, although he had started referring to Teru as "Deep Throat," which was sort of concerning.

Teru had managed to keep his mask on, mostly because it felt like the fabric was embedded in his skull, but he'd let a little of his aura slip. Between worrying about a surprise government draft and basketball drills, Teru had neglected his household chores.

There were pieces of clothing strewn all over the apartment, some glittering in the late afternoon sun. His industrial first aid kit was sitting on the coffee table, along with his comparatively-sized makeup kit. There was even a cup of instant noodles coagulating next to them. Teru did a millisecond of triage before using his powers to hide the underwear and the noodles.

Shigeo took it all in without a word, and Teru felt his fever go up a couple of degrees.

"Sorry about the mess," he said lamely.

Shigeo cleared a purple windbreaker off the couch and gently pushed Teru into its spot. Then he knelt in front of the coffee table and opened the first aid kit. He rummaged around for a few minutes. Sometimes he would pick up something like a hemostatic bandage or a shock blanket and frown at it for a moment before carefully replacing it. Eventually he found the cooling patches.

Teru held very still while Shigeo swept his bangs back from his forehead and applied the patch. He must have felt Teru's fever through his shirt.

"Thanks," said Teru.

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

He looked up. Shigeo's gaze was focused on the wall above the bookshelf, where Teru had somehow forgotten to hide the single most incriminating item in his apartment. Literally, since vigilante work was probably illegal, even if he was sort of working for the government.

Oni Group

Phoenix

Extermination Club

Psycho Union

Mad Emperor

Final Dog

Espers

Bloody Rain

Gates to Heck

"Hanazawa-kun…" Shigeo hesitated, frowned, but forged ahead anyway, "Are you thinking of forming another gang?"

Teru couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. It was only a little hysterical.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Hiii!

I hope you have a lovely day. 💙🐬🪁

6-7. and 17-18. for the ask game (if it’s not too late)

*😊✨🐍*

Hello there my sweet serpent friend! 🌷🐛🌹🦋🌻🐞🐌🪻

Thank you for the questions - you're not late at all hehe (you're the first one in fact!). I'll put these under the cut because it looks a little too long oops-

6 - 5 Male celebrity crushes

Let me go with the famous Hollywood babes for these, because if I go into my band crushes and kpop/kdrama people, I will never shut up.

Ben Barnes forever and always

Andrew Garfield (yes I was in the early Marauders fandom, in case it wasn't obvious lol)

Dev Patel

Christian Slater

Tom Hiddleston

7 - 5 Female celebrity crushes

Lily Collins

Simone Ashley

Keira Knightley

Anne Hathaway

Kat Dennings (my mom keeps telling me she and I have the same type of personality. which is not completely wrong tbh)

17 - What is something you're really good at?

✨ PROCRASTINATING and OVERTHINKING ✨

Haha, just kidding (not really, but yeah.) I'm pretty good at crafts and all. Not just painting and traditional art in general - I can get the hand of random stuff pretty easily, like fiber arts, building stuff, origami, you name it. If I dedicated myself to actually nurture my random skills, I could be fairly decent in some niche things, but I am too tired and unmotivated to do so. Same with languages (although I am finally picking that up again).

18 - What is something you're really bad at?

SPORTS. Like, it's pathetic and sad at best to see me play anything at all. I did one year of gymnastics as a kid, and it wasn't so bad, but anything that requires balls, hand-feet coordination, or rapid movement in general, I am dreadful. Still traumatised by P.E classes lmao.

[prismatic-cannon]

wrt the p5 vball au (!!!!!) i'm pretty sure yusuke is canonically Very Bad at the sports (see beach episode, his absolute terrible performance in beach vball) but he is so tall and lanky... so stronk... but i cannot see him being particularly "athletic" and coordinated in that way (part of that is just me projecting my lack of coordination on him lmao.) granted he does have high agility plus the "scoundrel eyes," in royal, but i just don't see him actually... having that sort of hand-eye to hit ball and not whiff. of the kosei boys though... knowing its artsy reputation, i don't know if anyone has that lmao... though also with him being that tall, maybe he gets saddled with middle? but also. 180cm is still, like, libero height for a lot of teams lol

they do make the joke that mako too stronk for the boys a lot (again, see beach episode) but i think she'd probably follow her combat abilities and be really well rounded in both offence and defence. haru is really nimble and bendy, and probably has a great swing (axe) but idk if she has the height/hops for the net. akechi and joker being the setters... makes so much sense oh dear it's almost upsetting. though imagine them on the same team.... akechi would probably also make a great opposite (lefty, good power) as would joker (literally perfect) and we know they're both fairly athletic, which makes me think... 6-2? maybe they hit... and set....? i think you made mishmash a libero which makes a lot of sense?. i hc him as being faster and better than ppl give him credit for, despite him being the lamest canonically. (ilu mishima) and ryuji thinks this vball bullshit is lame af dude

this is a wall and tl;dr i think vb au is so good !!! i want to chew on it thank you sorry for too many words ;-;

damn anon you had some thoughts 😂 (gonna put this under a cut so i don't flood anyone's dash)

Tbh I totally forgot that there was a beach volleyball scene in Hawaii until you reminded me omg. The way Makoto spikes it hard into the sand ... a murderer 😂 But yes she's easily captain-material for sure, especially since she's already student council president and everything

I think people would underestimate Haru at first, but you could definitely give her an edge up on something e.g. one of those scary killer serves. Bottom line is that Haru should have her sweet murderous moment where she's bouncing delicately on her heels all \o/ \o/ \o/ oh my I hope you're ready — because I won't hold back!! 💕 while the opposing team cowers in fear or something lol. I love my wife can you tell

Middle blocker is totally viable for Yusuke too I think!! He's a tall guy, so he could definitely do stuff if he puts the work in. If this was based on canonverse then yeah I could see him whiffing the ball from time to time. I’m sure the hand/body coordination for handling a sword vs doing da sports ball is different lol. My reason for making him ace was so that he could be a temperamental but formidable ace, and place him as one of the key players for Kosei so that the Shujin team could have rivals to go up against ya know? I just think the idea of seeing Yusuke's murder eyes as he blasts a spike through a block is just. (chef's kiss) sublime shit. It would be an honour to die by his hand (also is 180cm really normal libero height?? All my volleyball knowledge is gleaned from HQ so I’m probably missing something lmao)

Also I see your point about making Akechi and Joker on the same team, but considering that it’s these two dudes we’re talking about I feel like we have to double down on their whole rival dynamic, it would be a crime not to imo (and this is coming from someone who hates shu/ake and Akechi lol). The setter mind games they could have with each other is too good — like if you have Akechi be his superficially genial and amiable self while Joker actively goes out of his way to antagonise him just to peel back that fake veneer of charm and throw him off his game??? Delish

😭 Mishima my beloved ... I think I mentioned this already but I really like the idea of him being a libero since it's a near 1:1 parallel to his role in canon (no spike, only support!!!!) I HC that his low-to-zero presence lowkey serves him well on court, in the sense that he's a solid defense player that quietly keeps chugging along and making sure the ball stays up while everyone else focuses on offense. He's a silly little NPC that keeps his head down and stays in his lane ... 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Ofc sometimes the opposing team is going to target him to try and break through their defense, but once he gets into his zone it's hard to shake him off his groove imo. If you're telling me Mishima can hyperfixate this hard on his dumb little website then at least some of that focus is going to bleed into his vball game headspace (wow I didn’t go off on a shu/yuu tangent. it’s a miracle, let’s keep it that way)

Anyway thank you for your volleyball thoughts!! It’s always fun to think about it even though it’s too much effort to actualise it lmao

[news4usonline]

Biggest UCLA Spring showcase to date

PASADENA, CA- UCLA's football Spring Showcase at the Rose Bowl Stadium was not just a routine scrimmage. It was the largest practice game to date for UCLA and with the fans echoing their hopes and aspirations for a great season, the team couldn’t have been more hyped in this battle. As the sun struck the fans hard with it being 85 degrees in the stadium, it acted as a shining spotlight for the Bruins to ball out in front of an energetic crowd. The Rose Bowl Stadium stands as a beacon of UCLA Bruin's legacy, as a venue that has witnessed some of the sport's most memorable moments. For UCLA, stepping onto the field of the Rose Bowl isn't just about playing a game; it's about embracing a legacy and aspiring to create their own chapter in the annals of college football history.

Photo credit: Carlos Jones/News4usonline In this spring spectacle, UCLA's offense defeats the defense 43-31 in a reversal of fortunes given the defense’s dominance during much of spring practices. The defense has been a focal point for UCLA head coach DeShaun Foster’s scheme yet, his offense came out with a tactic that was going to give them the upper hand in the showcase. “It was easier for the offense to get open and for them to score points in my score system,” Foster said. “This past week we have been cooking up plays and we made quick strategies that have made our defense look bad even though they are the standout of this team.” The offense also had a brand new offensive line with many new players in the lineup who were in different positions. Senior Josh Carlin transitioned from his previous role at right guard to take up the pivotal position of center, while redshirt junior Bruno Fina shifted from left tackle to assume duties at right guard. This reshuffling paved the way for redshirt Junior Jaylan Jeffers to step into the left tackle position, as Carlin replaced redshirt freshman Sam Yoon, who had been serving as the second-string center. According to Foster, the rationale behind these adjustments was to create versatility among the players and to prepare them for potential positional changes. "I want all of the guys to play multiple positions and understand each position with the offensive line to the best of their abilities," Foster explained regarding the strategic realignment of the offensive line. “I want to have a plan B, C, or even D because we as a team want to do anything to make our Bruins happy and win it big this season."

Photo credit: Carlos Jones/News4usonline This strategic maneuver not only underscores the coaching staff's emphasis on adaptability and depth but also underscores their proactive approach to roster management, ensuring that the team is equipped to navigate any challenges that may arise during the course of the season. As UCLA football gears up for the upcoming campaign, the revamped offensive line stands out as a testament to the team's commitment to flexibility and preparation in pursuit of gridiron success. The team and crowd made this game not like any of the showcase games. Associate head coach/offensive coordinator Eric Bieniemy said that this is the new setting moving forward when the season starts. “From autograph sessions to ringing the victory bell for the fans, we want to make this year stand out as the best and most hyped ever," Bieniemy said. “We know everyone’s excited, and for much of the coaching staff that is former players, they feel more happier than ever and even feel it’s like time for all of L.A. to be Bruin fans again.” Read the full article

[whittingsonder]

harpy and chimera for the ask game :]

Hiiii!

Harpy: Do I enjoy playing sports

Yes, I do cross country and track! Originally I thought it would be boring, but I ended up realizing that it has quite a bit of strategy involved and that I really like the sport and my team. I have like no hand-eye coordination and bad aim so no ball sports for me lmao

Chimera: Have/would you ever dye your hair, and what color?

I haven't dyed my hair yet, but I really love the idea! It's something that has been in my mind for a while, and I'm hoping to actually get it done soon. I'll probably do an auburn gradient from the end up, and it would be so cool to have white streaks in the front and underneath in the back

Thanks for the ask!!

[anthonybialy]

Saving the Buffalo Bills Season by Not Saving Ken Dorsey’s Job

Ken Dorsey getting fired is the first nice call made involving him.  Naturally, it wasn’t his decision.  The closest the Bills have recently gotten to a win involved realizing they weren’t playing right.  Wondering whether they would either suffer a hangover or dodge one they deserve isn’t thrilling tension.  It’s almost a relief they found unbelievable ways to lose, as they finally have to clean up their act.  Having 12 guys on for a missed field goal that would've won them the game is a historical screwup even by franchise standards.  Hold on: I’m looking up new swear words.

The Bills are cursing themselves like fans are cursing at them.  The notion they’re destined to fall apart plagued the Dorsey era.  Who’s going to make the next colossal mistake?  An animated pie chart is fun unless you look at the slices.

Ken’s coda featured drama about whether it was going to be an unimpressive win like against the Giants and Buccaneers or another brutal loss.  The latter again disappointed a league that thought the Bills would thrive.  Numerous night games turned dark.  It’s reasonable for fans to anticipate players are able to perform tasks like holding footballs.

Josh Hurt My Hands is the Netflix series about Bills receivers.  Gabe Davis used to alternate marvelous and lousy games.  Monday, he alternated between targets.  Stefon Diggs getting ignored led to everyone paying attention to Dorsey.  Waiting to use him didn’t save Dorsey’s job any more than holding off way too long to throw to the reliable Khalil Shakir.

Casual screwups are normal.  This season has brought a new phase of Buffalo sports infuriation.  I’m almost impressed this franchise invented novel methods to torment its fans who thought they’d seen all the ways they could be hurt for the crime of wanting to finally enjoy football.

An offense packed with individuals who can’t be trusted aren’t the fault of the coordinator unless his energy really was that bad.  The past tense can bring modest relief.  James Cook really set the tone.  It’s easy to read too much into the first play, but the Bills are big into symbolism.  Josh Allen can’t hold the ball on a handoff, but he played to his utmost otherwise.

Allen entering nightmare mode embodied bad vibes.  His aggravatingly careless turnovers summarize how absolutely nothing will turn out happily.  An insane risk on Buffalo’s second play after carelessness on the first made it feel like they were playing fate.  Humans should know better than to think they’ll triumph.

The quarterback hasn’t been making worthwhile risks.  If there’s such a thing as a skilled gambler, it’s one who recognizes there’s lots of losing ahead.  Knowing the risk yet following through is part of the game.  A quarterback who throws good bad interceptions sees coverage and still calculates the attempt is worth it.  Knowing a risk might fail is as close to an acceptable turnover as there is.  By contrast, Allen has been playing like he’s lashing out.

Buffalo is the place where people flip off Dorsey when he appears onscreen.  Chances will blessedly plummet.  Nobody can claim he’s a scapegoat anymore.  Committing too many errors to highlight was his best chance to keep a wholly undeserved job.  It thankfully didn’t work

Police should escort Dorsey and his bad karma out of the county.  He’d praise their shotgun.  His fetish for distancing the quarterback from the center was like a video game player insisting on using a certain rifle no matter the mission.  Jim was similarly fixated on the sniper rifle.  Sticking with that inapt formation on fourth and two during the second half’s opening drive was a dare to call Dorsey a moron.  Now, call him jobless.

Take your time to not take your time.  Not hurrying up slowed down the offense for just one more exasperating aspect.  Buffalo’s final touchdown was notably not Dorsey’s call.  The quarterback needing to improvise in order for the offense to work means the player did the coordinator’s job.  Making him redundant was already redundant.

The 2023 Broncos just needed one last unearned chance.  Not converting on opportunities was their identity until they faced a team that beat them at losing.  Buffalo remained in a game they tried their hardest to hand away until their guests just couldn’t decline.  Waiting for Denver’s receivers to out-putz their Buffalo counterparts was as fruitless as hoping missed extra points would be sufficient.

Sentencing Sean McDermott to reading every Twitter reply on the Bills account should only be the start of his punishment.  He shouldn’t take the social media manager job, as that person actually performs competently.  Special teams wouldn’t have been able to flaunt their struggles with Sesame Street lessons if he refrained from recklessly blitzing at the exact time to use the defense’s standard zone, namely when Denver needed just a field goal and was still out of range.  Coaching is as bad as coordinating.  That’s the McDermott balance.

Dorsey’s firing is a good start.  McDermott seems to have plateaued just like his team.  We miss when games that should’ve been more comfortable both before and during ended in frustrating wins.  Now, blowing chances that should be scientifically impossible has become normal.  

Looking for candidates has only begun.  It might have to substitute for seeking wins.  Detroit’s offensive coordinator Ben Johnson will be pursued relentlessly this offseason and should feel enticed by the chance to help Allen get back to meeting his unique potential.  Hiring a trendy option would not be a lateral move: the Bills ought to be in the market for a new head coach focused on offense and a fresh start.  I bet he wouldn’t have called those dumb blitzes.

This sport’s coach should be fired even before Don Granato.  The fact both unimpressive One Buffalo team leaders should be racing out of town sums up a doubly regrettable ownership tenure.  Terry Pegula is too busy counting his dimes to notice how much he’s lost.

It’s easier to fire a coordinator than replace the roster.  In Dorsey’s case, it’s fun, too.  But figuring who to blame is like a mechanic trying to determine what’s making that clunking.  Woeful play may be blamed on actual players.  They are the ones out there, after all.  But consistent flubbing may be a sign of poor coaching.  The fact the Bills are trying to determine it deep into November may serve as a sign that January will be free.    Losing more games by Thanksgiving than they did all of last season is an early indicator they couldn’t postpone heeding.

Arithmetic struggles were merely the culmination of constant unfortunate decisions both on and off the field.  Nothing looks right.  It doesn’t take an empath to sense the team is skewed.  Dorsey’s ability to shape the future was mortifying in what’s now the past.  The Bills finally did something to affect their own augury.  It’s uncanny how they underachieved once Dorsey got his way.  He know has ample time to determine why.

[bunnyinatree]

I'm reading up on ocular albinsim—as one does—and this bit made me simultaneously cackle and think, "I'm on this page, and I don't like it" :P

"The reduced visual acuity may result in difficulty at school, such as trouble reading what is on a blackboard, except when the reading material is held very close, and difficulty with sports, particularly with small projectile objects."

I'm reminded of the time in history class when I was straining to read the teacher's notes on the board, and I could have sworn that it read: "Andrew Jackson—war horse." I was like, "No way, that makes no sense. Andrew Jackson was NOT a horse." And I was agonizing over this for several minutes, until my teacher got to that part of his lecture and was like, "Andrew Jackson—war hero!"—which is still incorrect, if you hate Andrew Jackson as much as I do, but it makes A LOT more sense to hear that in a history class than "Andrew Jackson—war horse" :P

Also, struggling in sports with small projectile objects is the story of my life. I want a reel of my days playing softball and how many times I was hit by the definitely not soft-ball, including the time that I straight up broke a bone from it. I don't think this part of the article is taking into account light sensitivity as well, but I can look back and laugh at how bad of an idea it was for my coach to toss me into the outfield. He was like, "Okay, you have terrible hand-eye coordination. Let's put you somewhere where the only thing that you have to catch are fly balls—and you have to look up directly into the Sun to see where they are." I think that I would have been better in the infield, where at least my visor could keep my vision from whiting out completely.

Also also, every time an article is like, "Yeah, ocular albinism is very rare among girls and women, because it's an X-linked disorder," I'm like the sickos meme, going, "Haha, yes, affirm my gender! Affirm it!" :P