#still soccer to me

[marvelling-at-marvel-blog]

I finally watched Ted Lasso, I held off so long because....well I don't like soccer. I am an AFL (Australian Football fan) through and through and can't get into to other sports but I was convinced by friends and random clips I saw.

I just fell completely in love with this show. It is not perfect and has it slumps ...but it so funny, smart, heartwarming, has fantastic charachters (one of the few shows where I liked almost everyone) and has a message and theme run through out the series woth the ability to make great callbacks. This show was at its best when it was an ensemble show. In the locker rooms, with the fans. With family.

But the two things I truly loved about it is

1. It nailed what it is like to be a fan. All the scenes of the crowds, the locals at the bar, the 3 boys. Heck, even the love and hate relationship the fans have with the coach and players. They nailed showing how a football team can be a family and a community. The show made me care if Richmond win or lose. That's why I love my football and my team. For the 4 quarters of my game we are all family, it's about the love of the game and the highs and lows. Ted Lasso did this fantastically

2. This show had one of the best character redemptions and growth arcs I have seen in a show in a long while. Watching Jamie Tartt grow throughout the seasons was amazing. He went from my least favourite character to my favourite. And all through this, he grew and worked on himself, in what felt like a really honest way. I could watch him for hours. Ted Lasso and Phil Dunster should be incredibly proud of what they created. He was portrayed so incredibly well.

I also aspire to be Roy Kent.

I also still do not understand the offside rule. I did learn what relegation meant in this sport. So learning at least.

[ithinkdogshouldvote]

And they said teen marriages were doomed

[macksartblock]

Thank you do much for all the amazing fanart!!! You're one of my favorite artists in this Fandom. All your pieces have so much story and personality packed into them, and the colours are always so evocative. Great work!

I can't stress enough how sweet this is to hear, thank you so much <3 that being said dear anon I am sorry your ask is being associated with my burden LOL

[larabar]

colored an old sketch 🎉

alts under read more

[lasshoe]

Incorrect Ted Lasso + The Parent Trap (or an AU where Rebecca follows Ted to Kansas)

[agnesandhilda]

when michael kaiser gets animated he'll hit twitter like the meteor that killed the dinosaurs

[uraberika]

Someoka S1 vs. Someoka S3

[spookberry]

Baseball ghost

[dykedvonte]

Can you talk about trans!Curly a little bit more? I'm curios if you have any headcanons and the like

-💀

It's just such a thing in my mind because it adds a truthful sadness and differing aspect to mouthwashing.

If Curly was trans it adds the horror of the horribly selfish thought he could have easily been in Anya's situation. It could've been him but it wasn't and he so conflicted on the pit it put in his stomach that brings and the shameful relief it wasn't. In this scenario he is friends with Jimmy for a long time still. Jimmy likely knew him pretransition. Maybe he gave Curly weird looks then, maybe they never stopped after, maybe they seemed meaner. They are guys now, bros, both of them are. He doesn't really have to worry what those looks mean anymore, Jimmy just has that face with him sometimes. It's recontextualizing a lot of things for him that he was in denial about or too ashamed to admit. How naive he was being and how he let that get another person hurt.

Specifically with Anya, it's he knows the dread and fear she's feeling. He can understand it because he had to live with it for a good portion of his life, he knows it cause he still does, just in a slightly different way. It makes him think of all the times he's been alone with Jimmy, all the times he's been way more drunk off his ass and not remember the night, Jimmy was always with him the next day. Makes him think of the comments he would laugh off both because that's what guys do but because that part of being a girl says to laugh so Jimmy doesn't do something. It's the selfish realization that he was never safe and he's uncertain now too. Mad at himself for forgeting that feeling, espcially since for a long time he would've been considered the only woman on a crew (with all that implies) for a long time.

He should've taken those blinders off, step back into that position for just a moment and it's so much more painful that Anya likely came to him because he should've gotten it. Those thoughts don't leave his mind after the crash when he's in an even more vulnerable position than she was...

[evmrellie]

criminal minds writer's were so SICK for this like WHY would they do this 😓

[purecommemasolitude]

why couldn't darry curtis have been a hockey star or a soccer star. am i actually going to have to learn the rules to american football to write this fanfiction because it's looking like the answer is yes

[dreaamerwrites]

[ (just a) bad day ]

couple: son heungmin x reader rating: PG tags: hurt, comfort, talks about beheading (yeah) from the drama my liberation notes. notes: the newcastle game was a massacre. i don't have the heart to have him say "i'm alright, i'm fine" because he wouldn't lie like that. but i just need to know that heungmin will have someone hold him tight and take him home. please listen to agust d's snooze, that's what i had quoted at the end. thanks. please support son heungmin's future. it will get better.

/

Before the final whistle blows, you are already down the tunnel, down the hall, expression grim as you scan the treatment room. Ryan finds you like this, his own expression ashen, having aged ten years through the match himself.

He’s in Treatment Room A. Hesitation. …I think he wants to be alone.

You thank Ryan but pay no heed to the message.

He’s not the one you need to see.

/

“Don’t.”

It is the first word shared in that dim, empty room and it forces you to stop in your tracks. Heungmin’s voice is rough and torn and tight. Your hand falters by the light switch before, finally, falling back to your side. You let him sit in the darkness, face illuminated only by the faint light that hums above the emergency exit.

You can barely recognize him in the darkness, but still you go to him.

“Don’t,” he repeats, more forcefully this time. “Stop.”

Still, you go to him.

From where he sits, his knees bump against your thighs and he resolutely refuses to give way. You step into his space regardless. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, his face finally comes into view. He has screwed his eyes shut now, mouth pressed into a grim line. You reach up to trace the faint scar above his eye, but hesitate, not quite touching him just yet.

You’ve been through so much.

What can I do to make this better?

Tell me where it hurts. I would take it all away if I could.

The words sit on the very tip of your tongue but you swallow them down. They are not the words he wants or needs to hear right now. He does not need to hear you ask how he feels or if he’s alright or if this is still the game that he has loved his whole goddamn life. He does not need your sympathy. He does not need your pity.

Right now, all he needs is…

“So. Bad day, huh?”

Your comment seems to come as such a surprise that he chokes out a pained laugh despite himself.

The sound is so sudden that it seems to startle the both of you equally – and then Heungmin’s eyes are open and he’s staring at you, eyes shining, disbelief clear as day on his face.

“What?” he chokes out, half-laugh and half-groan.

The pain is still evident on his face and this time you let yourself touch the scar. You press down on it slightly, tracing it with the very tip of your finger. He slowly reaches up, long fingers wrapping around your wrist. You half expect him to push your hand away.

He doesn’t.

He lets you linger there, his grip warm around your wrist and your touch gentle against his skin.

“Yeah,” he finally whispers back, incredulous laughter gone now. Something softening in his expression. “Had a real shit day today.”

You let your hand slide down until your palm cradles his cheek. He moves with you, grip never leaving yours as he leans into your touch. He swallows thickly and you can hear it in the silence that sits between you. Your own eyes prickle with the heat and promise of oncoming tears, but you swallow that down with him too.

His hair is still damp from the showers and he smells of your shampoo. A stray droplet lands on the back of your hand. Still, you do not move away.

“I know,” you whisper into the darkness. “I know.”

(You had been watching a drama a few months back.

The woman on the television screen had a crazed look in her eyes, sitting across the cafe table from her blind date, explaining why she was dubbed the Pick Up Girl by all of her friends.

Once, with my friends, we were talking about what true love was. I was reminded of something I saw in a textbook when I was a child. It was about a woman who ran to pick up the severed head of her husband in her skirt.

When I was young, it was too gruesome for me to understand. But now, as an adult, I found myself agreeing. Yes, I would pick it up. I would have to pick it up. I can’t let it fall to the ground, I must catch it in my skirt.

Heungmin had burst out laughing, then. The man sitting across from her in the scene appeared horrified, but Heungmin had only appeared delighted.

He had pressed a loud raspberry to the side of your neck then.

“Would you catch me too?” he had teased, nosing into the crook of your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, mouth dragging along the skin there as he laughed loudly. You had laughed back, shivering at the ticklish touch.

It had been a joke then.

But today, you were reminded of it.

Perched in the stands, watching his team go down in flames. Watching the light leave his eyes as more and more fans exited the stadium. Watching as his shoulders heaved beneath the heavy weight of loss and failure and disappointment.

Several family members had looked away by then. His agent had slumped back in his seat, scrolling through his phone anxiously, clearly anticipating the press and media that would be awaiting him at the end of the tunnel.

Only Heungmin’s father and you had kept watching.

You did not look away. You refused to look away. Even when the booing only grew exponentially in volume, even when his teammates fumbled yet another horrible, horrible ball. You kept your eyes on the game, you kept your eyes on him. Only when his number appeared on the screen to be subbed out, did you finally let out the breath you had been holding.

Heungmin hadn’t spared a second glance towards your box when he was subbed out. You couldn’t blame him. He probably hadn’t had the heart to look.

If he had looked… if he had looked back at you…

If he had looked back: he would’ve seen you looking right back at him. He would’ve seen you finally, slowly, sitting back down in your seat, his father taking his seat beside you as well.

His father hadn’t said much in the box – he never did.

But when his hand had found yours in your lap, grip tight, you knew he was saying more than words ever could.

Thank you. Thank you for watching Heungmin until the very end. Thank you for catching Heungmin, even when the world waits to tear him apart, limb by limb. Thank you. Thank you.

If your throat hadn’t been so tight, you would’ve responded: Don’t thank me. I will always watch him. I will always catch him.

Instead, you had simply covered his hand with your own.

The truest love there ever was.)

Heungmin finally shifts. He parts his legs, lets you slide between them until you are flush against him, even from where he sits on this treatment table.

You let both of your arms reach up and around his neck, wrapping around his shoulders, his own dropping to fold around your waist. His grip is almost painfully tight as he burrows into you, solid and warm. His heartbeat thrums in your ear and you match your own breaths to the sound.

“I know,” you repeat again, voice muffled against the soft fabric of his tee. “I’m here, I’m right here.”

He holds onto you like a man drowning.

I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.

“Let’s go home.”

/

Everything will be okay, everything will be okay Everything will be okay, everything will be okay Everything will be okay, everything will be okay Everything will be okay, everything will be okay

[moonsuke]

I’m almost caught up to the anime!! still debating if i wanna read on ahead first...

but then the top 6's introduction stopped me cause WHY DOES NAGI HAVE SUCH HUGE EYES LOL

literally half his face is just eyes!! and it’s not like it’s the first time he’s drawn like this but like, the rest of the top 6 are so well-proportioned in comparison??? so when nagi popped up it hit me how big they actually are 😭

i cannot, why is he so cute this is why im taking so darn long to read the fucking manga because i keep. pausing. at every. nagi panel!!!!

also the number of times i've replayed nagi's "oh" in the anime...

[geometricalien]

interpreting the reonagi conflict as a one-sided crush where nagi views their relationship as professional/friendly <<< interpreting the reonagi conflict as miscommunication between a codependent/anxious attachment style reo and socially inept nagi who thought their bond was so strong and concrete that it was obvious that he left for the purpose of getting stronger and closer to their goal AND that reo needed to improve on his own as well

[yukimiyaz]

there’s just something so gutting about nagi’s complete and utter trust in isagi. “should we not consult barou?” he asks, and all it takes is a single no from isagi and he drops it. he concedes. like he is placing his own life into the hands of just one guy. a guy who stands on the edge of his throne with his eyes wide but never focusing. in the hands of a puzzling king, who offers not an ounce of certainty but an abundance of confidence. and that is enough

[bunniesbearsandadventures]

Okay besides taekwondo, why was the only other sport that my introverted ass was good at was being a goalie in soccer?

゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜