#world league 2017

[govikings]

Thomas Jaeschke - Three time Olympian (2016, 2020, 2024) for USA Volleyball.

thomas jaeschke, 05.07.17

[theromanticscrooge]

Rob, Gumball, and the Villain Rivalries That Belong on a Sitcom Set and in Couples' Therapy

So, the episode "Glory Hog" of the 2009 cartoon League of Super Evil follows the attempts of a lame supervillain team to net a big-time hero rival. They manage to draw the attention of Captain Glory, an even more extreme boy-scout parody take on Superman. L.O.S.E. are known for playing Ding, Dong, Ditch and jaywalking. They're a better fit as the opposite of an aspiring Scooby Doo gang vs a guy with super strength, flight, and laser vision. Captain Glory's usual nemesis is Skullosus, a skull in a jar atop a mech suit. He has a full flank of minions, a space ship, and a planet-decimating death ray.

Skullosus almost destroys Earth in Captain Glory's absence, but gives up when his beloved hero rival fails to make his timely appearance. When the two finally reunite, Captain Glory and Skullosus' rivalry carries the subtext of a romantic couple making up after one of them was caught exploring their options or emotionally cheating. They're a Rupert Holmes Pina Colada situation where Skullosus reminds Captain Glory about the mutual excitement they glean from fighting each other. Skullosus is an even match for Glory Guy's powers, might, and tenacity; just like the jaded man's wife in the aforementioned Pina Colada song hates yoga and loves getting caught in the rain as much as he does.

Another fun and more well-known take on this goofy hero-villain dynamic are Batman and the Joker in the 2017 Lego Batman movie. The Joker considers Batman a centerpiece of every villainous scheme and exploit. How the Bat will react or interact with various parts and pieces of his plan, as well as the Joker himself, are elements he actively anticipates and consciously thinks about. It's a highly personal and devastating blow when Batman asserts the Joker's rivalry is one-sided.

As Batman learns to appreciate and better understand the importance of having other people in his life, one of his penultimate "I'm learning" moments is when he finally delivers a heartfelt, genuine "I hate you" to his rival. That's all the Joker wanted. It's his equivalent to a rough, stoic sitcom husband telling his taken-for-granted housewife "I love you." That first confession opens the floodgates. From now on, the Joker can have the meaningful banter and earnest effort he deserves from his heroic rival.

More serious hero vs villain conflicts in comic books present the hero and villain respectively as opposite sides of opposing themes. In the specific case of Batman and the Joker, they can be generalized as order vs chaos. They're both the most extreme ends of a very black and white sense of morality. Both are deeply traumatized men with enough presence and power that whatever actions they take can shape Gotham for the worse or the better. Most stories focusing on the Batman vs Joker dynamic are interested in exploring the consequences of two clashing extremes in regards to social issues or exploring the psychological impact of this all-consuming obsession with each other on Batman or Joker respectively.

A huge part of what makes Lego Batman work as a satirical lens is that Batman becomes a self-obsessed narcissist and the Joker becomes an "I'm evil for the fun of being evil" villain that exists more in the realm of Saturday morning cartoons than otherwise. The Batman caricature is a subversion of the generally gloomy, dark, and severe character most modern takes are. This combines the camp of the 60's Adam West series or even the 90's live action bat credit card antics with the fixation and obsession superhero pop culture has with Batman at large. When Batman is such a self-interested figure, it makes sense to paint this variant of the Joker as more sensitive than he would be otherwise. Gotham is at the mercy of a "notice me, senpai" Joker instead of someone that wants to watch the world burn.

In a nutshell, the rivals with romantic subtext framing works beautifully in a more satirical work. If these characters can pull from a more serious framework where the characters are so fundamentally at odds they have to seriously consider whether or not they should kill each other, it's that much funnier to place them in a strained sitcom couple dynamic. The more extreme debate of this fictitious world would be a dramatically different place without this hero or villain becomes a simmering argument about whether the hero or villain is sleeping on the couch tonight.

Keep this in mind and then look at The Amazing World of Gumball episode "The Ex." Both previous examples rely on the existing library of comic books and characters as a foundation for their goofier hero and villain. The Amazing World of Gumball can similarly pull from this library but builds up the characters and story involved to the point they can and do stand alone. They present a new and deliciously bizarre template that other future stories could borrow from for setting up further hero and villain rivalries with a frustrated set of not quite sitcom spouses.

In general, TAWOG is a delightfully subversive series, whether it's poking fun at a wide breadth and depth of pop culture, delivering fantastic social commentary, or sneaking in surprisingly insightful and heart-wrenching character writing.

To set the stage, the wacky and colorful world of TAWOG relies on characters remaining unaware that they live in a syndicated TV cartoon outside of very limited, special circumstances. Its a couple of steps above how the 90's Animaniacs casually leaned on the fourth wall for jokes and comments vs the very active, deliberate part the fourth wall holds in TAWOG's world-building. The fourth wall becomes the static-filled void just on the outskirts of Gumball's reality. Characters are aware enough of the seams in their world that episodes like "The Money" use storyboards and unfinished CG rigs as parts of jokes about the world falling apart without a healthy budget.

Though, the physics and overall stability of this world rely on characters staying blissfully ignorant or outright forgetting parts of their reality that an amorphous creator, an unseen entity, or what is referred to as 'The Universe' itself deemed as unimportant. Usually, these forgotten 'parts' are jokes about how unanimously unlikeable disco music is, how unfashionable mullet hairstyles are, or bad ideas like the general construction of the Hindenberg blimp. Then, TAWOG takes this one step further and invents the tragedy behind the character Rob as a more existential dread-flavored look at the cartoon's overall relationship with its fourth wall.

Originally, Rob was just a playful background character. The Universe decides that he's a negligible part for whatever reason alongside the tertiary character Molly and mercilessly ejects both of them into this static-filled void. In show buildup to the discovery of the void follows Gumball and Darwin progressing from seeing its existence as a tin-foil hat conspiracy theory to diving into the void itself to save their friend before she's completely erased. In-cartoon logic of scrubbing any part of the world clean is a gradual process. The process can be stopped if its caught soon enough or a particular item is retrieved and reinstalled into the world at large before it dissolves or however else deletion/dissolving occurs within the limbo of the void.

Gumball and Darwin go to rescue Molly from the clutches of the static, but ignore Rob's desperate attempts to draw their attention and get their help to escape. He was already an unnamed background character, but now he's been knocked down one level below that already dubious narrative hierarchical position and doomed to oblivion. He literally clings to the back of Mr. Small's van on the tail end of the Molly rescue attempt, unseen by Gumball and Darwin, and forces the Universe to acknowledge him. When Rob does return to the 'normal' world, he's in an incomplete state. He doesn't remember who he was or what his original connection to this world was. Most of his body are rough polygons with patchy, glitched-out textures and TV static. One of his feet is an incomplete CG wire frame.

Because TAWOG is a satire series, Gumball establishes that all of the recognizable on-screen characters fill some sort of established character archetype. All of the other 'good' archetypes have been filled. Rob is assigned The Villain role and starts to fill said role in large part because he was forced into this. Depending on the episode, Rob is playing a required narrative part as much as any other character in the cartoon, but he also has moments addressing his unique frustration and fight with the construct around TAWOG as a whole. Rob is definitely a sympathetic character.

His worse actions aren't excused but his tendency towards more extreme and forceful solutions or behavior is understandable. He had to claw his way back into the world and more or less fight to maintain his right to exist. He feels unseen and unheard; this isn't helped by Gumball immediately jumping towards "what's Dr. Wrecker's evil scheme today?" vs any kind of more thoughtful and substantive discussion with Rob. There's never a moment of "How are you?" unless Rob literally steals the spotlight and tells Gumball, as well as the watching audience, where his thoughts and feelings are.

After the events of "The Disaster" and "The Rerun," Rob has successfully achieved his goal of destroying everyone Gumball loves. He destroyed Gumball's life by tearing apart his family through the right set of wrong loaded phrases or emotional manipulation and even temporarily erasing all of said family from existence. He backpedaled on and ultimately corrected these actions; as he's said, he never wanted to be the villain but he feels so forced that he has fully become the role where he was just playing at it before. After such an intense scrap with his nemesis, Rob wants something more casual and low-key. He's so locked into villainry, he's downgrading from a Level 10 threat to the more manageable Wile E. Coyote ventures he started with.

"The Ex" also immediately follows the awkward tension between Rob and Gumball at the end of "The Rerun." He isn't sure if he can hate Gumball with the same intensity as he did before and those fierce, bitter feelings were a significant motivator in his interpersonal relationship as Gumball's nemesis. Because of these more lukewarm feelings, he "breaks up" with Gumball and shifts his attention to Banana Joe. Joe is more compatible with Rob's Wile E. ventures as a promising Roadrunner. He's annoying and dim, but the lack of wit is offset by enough sheer dumb luck that helps him avoid Rob's complicated traps. There's strong potential to maintain an ongoing, evergreen unseen nemesis role that Rob had with Gumball before Gumball finally acknowledged him and strong-armed him towards something worse and more sinister.

Gumball is devastated by the breakup. He's been bragging and gushing about Rob to his girlfriend Penny ever since Rob became his official nemesis. There's personal attachment. Gumball is partly responsible for goading Rob towards the horrible, evil depths he's achieved. He was Gumball's project. This new nemesis doesn't know or deserve the results behind the fruits of his labor. As far as Gumball is concerned, there's no Rob without his lovable, rapscallion nemesis Gumball Watterson.

It's especially ridiculous how active a role Penny plays as Gumball's emotional support and advice in his misguided ploys to win Rob back. In other setups like this, such as 2017 Lego Batman, Batman does have a female love interest. The hero-villain rivalry can exist alongside an established heterosexual love interest or love story. If anything, having this dynamic exist next to a blatant, straightforward romance further drives home that the sitcom couple subtext is a comedic framing device. Penny's relationship with Gumball is a separate and distinctive thing from the unique, intimate bond that Gumball shares with Rob as his nemesis.

What's really fun about Gumball expressing such strong jealousy towards Banana Joe is that he brings the same grand gestures and harebrained desperation towards winning Rob back as he would to romance Penny. Rob has carved out a special place in Gumball's life that nobody else could fill. Gumball follows the conventions of a classic "make my ex-boyfriend jealous" story up to the mature move of trying to move on and be just friends instead.

But then he inadvertently reignites the fire of Rob's hatred towards him and gets his own shoujo-romance fireworks and goopy-eyed "I hate you!" declaration. These two have the same kind of chemistry that makes more grounded takes on the Batman-Joker rivalry work mixed with the framing that makes the more satirical takes work as well. It's a weird tight rope walk, but TAWOG has firmly established itself as a story that can swing between genuinely gripping drama and more absurd, outlandish situations. Granted, Rob and Gumball have enough of a genuine connection that there's room for Rob to segue from a nemesis to a real friend. There could be a redemption arc. Every major scene Rob has reinforces the idea that he is on the teetering edge between maintaining his villain role and an honest desire to be allowed to just exist.

Outside of the nemesis story, Rob presents interesting commentary that fits a wide variety of people considered 'other' by society that get brutally demonized, ostracized, and ridiculed. Rob is a case of someone that was pushed so hard that he becomes exactly what society expected and feels so lonely and unsupported that he doesn't see a realistic alternative. Being the Villain is his only means to survive, to protect himself, and is the only tool set he knows of to achieve any kind of results. This is why Rob resorts to kidnapping Banana Barbara and posing as Superintendent Evil in late season 6 episodes rather than trying to launch a meaningful dialogue with anyone else. He's convinced that force is the best method and has no proof of otherwise.

I'm still hoping for some kind of closure for Rob's overall character in a yet-to-happen Amazing World of Gumball series finale. He deserves it. And viewers deserve one final bro hug between Gumball and his closest interpersonal relationship outside of his family and his girlfriend Penny.

[kitnita]

★  —  jason robertson for after hours; november 4, 2023 (x)

what's it like being part of arguably the greatest draft class of all time – greatest dallas draft class of all time – with oettinger and heiskanen? so the stars took heiskanen and oettinger in the first round, you in the second round, so it was a very productive draft. is that lost on you, that class? no, I mean, it's, it's — it's truly a special moment, I mean, we always see it, uh, and think about it when it's ever brought up, how special it is. you know, you don't find a franchise goalie, a franchise d-man, and a player … a forward like me in, uh, one round very often. so, um, very — you look back on it now and uh, we hit all of the spots, and six years later we're all pretty, uh … producing, and being big parts of this team. and hopefully and ideally we're gonna be big parts through these, uh — our carers.

[furshrimps]

This year's Crufts had a distinct lack of Papillons (yeah I'm biased XD but there also was not a single Papillon in agility so...), so here's a pic of Premier League Daydream Believers, aka Simon. I took this photo in 2017 at the World Dog Show in Leipzig. He's 1 year and 4 months old in the pic if I did my math correctly.

Simon won BOB at Crufts 2020! And he's litter brother to Planet Waves Forever Young Daydream Believers (aka Dylan), who won Crufts BIS in 2019.

[chungledown-bimothy]

yeah it was 6 years ago but i maintain that if riot had actually nerfed ardent censer and not buffed it skt would have won worlds in 2017.

even if i'm wrong about that, at least it would have been an interesting and fun tournament to watch

[saucingitup]

It hasn’t been easy for many who have come before them. Twenty-six years ago in Nagano when women’s hockey debuted as an official Olympic sport, some media coverage focused more on the sexual orientation of the players than the competition.

But relationships among athletes are slowly gaining a normality in women’s pro sports. In 2021, married couple Allie Quigley and Courtney Vandersloot won a WNBA championship with the Chicago Sky, and they are just one of many couples in the league. 

Women’s sports is undergoing a transformative expansion — new leagues, more money and investment, increased media coverage — and the story of teammates as couples is only going to become more common.

“I've always been the hockey player. But I have a wife and I can be myself. People are coming to the rink and saying thank you for allowing me to be myself,” Poulin says. 

If Poulin has helped make Stacey a better hockey player, Stacey has assisted Poulin in living her most authentic life. 

And in a lot of ways, they have become bigger than the game.

Their late-September wedding at Le Peaches and Cream in Low, Que., is described by many of the 192 family members and friends who were in attendance as the perfect day. Poulin and Stacey both call it “the best day of their lives” — an epic celebration of life and love, the culmination of a relationship that began in 2017 when they locked eyes while swimming at a Team Canada event at Blue Mountain in southern Ontario.

Stacey had just competed in her first world championship, Poulin a decorated champion many times over. They were teammates, but they didn’t really know a lot about one another. 

“A few of us decided to go skinny dipping in the pool at 2 a.m.” Stacey says. “The two of us looked up into the sky at the same time and we saw a shooting star. Our eyes met and we asked each other if we just saw that. Nobody else in the pool saw it or knew what was going on but we saw it. For the rest of that night it was a weird feeling. I had a feeling.

“We always go back to that moment. Even in my wedding vows, that was the thing —that she was the wish I had always dreamed of and I didn’t realize it until now.”

and they were linemates... everybody stop drop and read this article on laura stacey and marie philip-poulin

[yamumsyadadd]

missing sister

Keira Fae Walsh. The midfield maestro, record breaking transfer player. She was adored by all. At 10 years old, her world changed. 

September 27 2007, Noah Elle Walsh made her entrance into the world. Keira had overheard her parents talking about their “happy little accident” and how they were so excited for Keira to be a big sister. Keira herself was excited. 

The day after her birth, Keira visited her parents and new baby sister at the hospital. The tiny, one day old, 6 pound baby was placed into her arms. From that day, Keira promised to love and protect her. No matter what. 

A year after Noah was born, Keira joined the Blackburn Rovers Girls’ Centre of Excellence. Blackburn became a second home to the Walsh family. It’s where Keira got to continue player football, and develop into the player she was today. It’s where Noah took her first steps, and where she first realised her disdain for the sport. All of her parents time was spent on Keira and football. 

By 2014 things were going great for Keira, not so much for Noah. Their parents had put Noah into football at Blackburn Rovers just like they had done with Keira, however Noah had no intention of playing. Noah preferred to write, draw or play the piano, sports were simply not her thing. 

Most weekends were spent travelling to watch Keira play, if the game was within driving distance then you could bet the Walsh family would be in attendance. 9 year old Noah hated it. Every minute of it. Instead of having sleepovers with her friends, or going to the mall or park with them, she was made to suffer through the hours in the car and then the 90 minutes of a stupid game. 

In 2015, Keira signed her first professional contract and in the same year bought home her first girlfriend. Lucy Bronze, she was nice. Really nice. Over the next 8 years, Lucy would become a sister to Noah and when Lucy and Keira broke up, it hit her hard. 

2016 was when things changed. Manchester City had won the league, it just so happens that the celebrations fell on the same day as Noah’s 9th birthday. Every year it was the same tradition, the birthday girl would pick a restaurant and everyone would go. However this year, Keira and her parents would be celebrating Manchester City’s league win meaning Noah would be left at home with the babysitter and an empty to promise that they would make it up to her. 

2017 was much the same, Keira was winning awards, playing amazingly and very much in love with Lucy. The whole family was. On the nights when Lucy would stay over, all three of them would climb into bed and watch a movie. More often than not, Noah would fall asleep between the two. Her two Bestfriends, and despite her disdain for the game, also her two hero’s. 

When Keira got the chance to captain Manchester City in the 2017/2018 pre season, every single person who interacted with their mother would know about it. This is also when Noah started to really realise that it was all about Keira. It wasn’t necessarily Keira’s fault, but it didn’t help that she never asked about Noah’s hobbies. 

At Christmas in 2017, Keira announced that her and Lucy were going to be buying an apartment together and Keira would be leaving. Lucy wasnt even living in the country at the time, she had left to go to Lyon. The selfish side of Noah thought that this meant her parents would finally spend more time with her, come to her piano recitals or come to her school art shows. She was wrong though.

The awards truly started to flow in for Keira. If you were to meet their parents on the street, it would seem that they only had one child, not two. Noah was sure that they didn’t know anything about her, Keira liked to think she did but she truly didn’t. 

Noah was winning awards too. For her art and her piano skills. Her teachers at school loved her, her friends and their parents too. The blonde hair, green eyed girl was adored, just not by those who she truly wanted. 

No matter how much Noah protested, her parents dragged her all over the country to support her old sister, sometimes even making her go to France to support Lucy. 

The 2019 Women’s World Cup was where the family truly split. It was held in France over the summer. Smack bang in the middle of the World Cup was meant to be Noah’s national piano recital that could get her into the junior Royal Northern College of Music. Her parents didn’t care though, not truly believing their youngest daughter had the chance to do something like that. 

Noah was miserable in France, fighting with her parents everyday, crying herself to sleep and withdrawing from her friends. The 12 year old simply couldn’t understand why her parents couldn’t believe in her the way they do to Keira and even Lucy. 

England won all their group stage games, then they won the round of 16 game. In the quarterfinals, they were set to play Norway, it was an important game and Noah was told time and time again they she had to be there to support her sister and her girlfriend. Lucy scored that game, their parents were so extremely proud of their daughter and Lucy. Jealousy and anger seeped through Noah’s bloodstream. 

England lost the semifinal against the US and then lost the Bronze medal game against Sweden. That was it. The next week was spent consoling Lucy and Keira. No one noticed how Noah had retreated. Barely eating, not taking off her head phones, nose always in a book or in her sketches. 

As Noah got older, her parents stopped forcing her to go to Keira’s games. They barely forced her to live in the same house as them. Covid lockdown forced Noah and her parents to spend more time together. The world was shutting down around them. Noah’s hopes to get a scholarship in London (which her parents were yet to know about), were put to the side. 

Keira barely spoke to Noah, assuming Noah didn’t want to because she was a teenager. Leah Williamson however had become a confidant to the teenager. Leah tried her hardest to get Keira to pay more attention to Noah, but it didn’t work. Keira was struggling with the distance between her and Lucy and struggling with the aftermath of the World Cup. 

By the 2021 school year, Noah had turned into a very independent 14 year old. Most weekends she would catch the train to London for her piano lessons which she paid for by selling her art. Her parents nor Keira or Lucy were any the wiser. Leah however, had caught her in the city centre one day by herself. After promises to not tell her parents or Keira or anyone for that matter, Noah would spend Friday nights at her flat and Leah would take her home after her lessons. 

It tore Leah apart. Keira was off in her own little world, without a clue what was happening with her little sister. She tried to subtly tell Keira but it wasn’t working. She would have to pull out the big guns before something happened. 

By the summer of 2022, Keira and Lucy had won the Euros and Noah was regularly going to London for piano, she had received a scholarship to receive lessons from the London Piano Institute. All that was needed was a signature from her parents. However it doesn’t go to plan, the day Noah planned to present the forms to her parents, Keira had called around. 

She would be joining Lucy at Barcelona for the upcoming season. It was a record transfer fee, not only for Barca but for women’s sport. Noah was proud of her, even if it wasn’t said out loud. Barcelona were the best of the best, after an impressive Euros she deserved it. 

Noah threw the papers in the bin, giving up on her dream to go to London. She felt like she would forever be in the shadow of Keira. Maybe that was Noah’s destiny. 

Once Keira and Lucy left, Noah had completely changed and withdrawn. She no longer had contact with her sister or Lucy, she refused to speak to her parents and to Leah. Her birthday was yet again forgotten by her family, only her friends celebrating with her. 

Noah was left to her own devices, her parents frequently travelling to Spain to support Keira, leaving Noah in Manchester, alone. Not that she minded, she made friends with the older kids at her school, often skipping school to hang out with them. She started partying and exploring her sexuality. 

A few months after Leah tore her ACL, she was sent by her parents to Leah’s flat. They all decided that Noah could help Leah around the house. Basically being a maid to her. However, this isn’t what Leah wanted. She lied to Keira, to the Walsh parents and even her own. 

Leah wanted to learn the piano. She wanted her best friends little sister to teach her how to play. Noah would be patient, and calm with her. She knew Noah loved the piano and that London would be a good change for her. 

For the month that Noah spent at Leah’s flat, she returned to her usual self. Playing the piano everyday, finding new joyous things to draw, teaching Leah everything she knew. When she returned to Manchester, she felt great. She had a plan to convince her parents to let her move to London. It didn’t work, instead it caused a massive fight between the three of them. 

Noah retreated again. She went back to partying with her friends, skipping school, started to vape and occasionally dabbing in drugs. The summer of 2023, was spent away from the family home, going back once a week to get clean clothes and money then disappearing again. If her parents cared, they never said anything. 

It was fine until they cornered her one weekend with the exception of her joining them in Australia for the World Cup. Her parents didn’t care when she said no and told them she had plans. They told her she had to drop everything to support her sister and her country. It was a very very long few weeks in Australia. 

Keira didn’t notice the change in her sister, Lucy however, she did. She took her out for a few hours, grilling the 15 year old on what was wrong. It took a while, but Noah broke. She told Lucy everything. Lucy had always had a suspicion about what was happening, but Everytime she asked Keira she got nowhere. Now that the pair weren’t together, Noah felt safer telling Lucy. 

Lucy approached Keira, knowing it had to be done gently. She sat Keira down and told her everything Noah had said. Something in Keira changed after that. The lingering stares, the forcing of a conversation, the extra long and tight hugs. Keira even bought Noah down from the stands after their loss to Spain, wanting to introduce her to her Barcelona teammates. 

Once back in the UK, Noah went off the rails. Completely abandoning school, staying out drinking with her friends. She’d gotten herself a new phone and with that, a new number. She’d disconnected herself from her family all together. It took a week, which was shorter than Noah anticipated, until her parents noticed. They had called the police, called Lucy, Keira and Leah. 

The police found her, passed out in a park with her friends. They ignored the pleas to not force her back at her parent’s house. It took a few days, but then Noah was gone again. Again, they called the police. The police returned her home. This routine happened for six weeks until her parents had had enough. Forcing Noah to pack her belongings as she was going to Spain for a while, to live with Keira. 

————————————————————————

Keira Walsh

Lucy and I are waiting at the baggage claim. We have your bags, no rush though. 

Great. She bought Lucy along. Ma and dad didn’t tell me how long I’d be here for, just that they had had enough. Which is funny because they never gave a shit before. Basically my whole life it’s been them and Keira. Me on the outside, even when Lucy was around she’d get treated better. 

“Hey Noodles.” Keira pulled me into a hug. It was awkward, for the both of us. Once she let go, Lucy was next. Hugs were certainly not something I enjoyed. 

“The car is this way. Lucy will drive us back to mine and then she’ll stay for dinner, if that’s alright with you?” 

“Yeah whatever that’s fine.” Dinner was the last thing on my mind. Living here, in a country that I don’t speak in the language, without my friends, would be pure hell. I wanted no part in this. 

The drive to Keira’s apartment wasn’t long. It was a tense drive though. Both Lucy and Keira tried to make conversation with me but realised pretty quickly I wasn’t in the mood for that. 

“So this is the apartment. Your bedroom is through the hallway there, opposite is the bathroom and my room. I put fresh towels in your room for you. If you want to have a shower before dinner, go ahead.” 

It wasn’t a small apartment by any means. It was bigger than their Manchester one, nicer too. The room had a queen sized bed in the middle, two side tables and a desk, some generic artwork on the wall above the bed but other than that, it was a typical guest room.  I very quickly grabbed what I needed for my shower. The flight was only two and a half hours but doing that after being hungover and having a massive fight with your parents wasn’t the best. 

When I remerged, Lucy and Keira were talking in hushed voices in the kitchen. No doubt about me. They quickly stopped when they saw me. 

“Help yourself to dinner, we got a variety because we weren’t sure what you wanted.” 

Nodding my head, I did as they said. Dinner was awkward. It was just like the car ride. I spent the majority of it pushing food around the plate. 

“Why am I here?” I spoke softly, curious but not wanting to know the real answer. 

“Ma and dad thought you needed a change of scenery.” 

“No. I meant why am I here, at your apartment.” 

“Well where else would you go?” 

“To my friends house. To Leah’s. Anywhere but here.” 

“You’d prefer to be with Leah over me? I’m your sister?” The hurt was evident in her voice. 

“She’s been more of a sister then you have ever been.” I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth. 

“What’s the supposed to mean Noah?” 

“Forget it. I’m going to bed.” 

“No Noah! Come back here now!”

“Kei, leave it. She’s clearly going through something and needs time.” Lucy spoke up for the first time since they all sat down for dinner. 

“What if she runs away again? She doesn’t know the city? Her phone won’t work.” 

“Then we will find her. Me, you and the team. She’ll come to training tomorrow, we can ask Ale or Mapi to watch her while we train then we can sort out her phone situation, alright?” 

Keira nodded. Unsure what to really say. Had she been that bad of a sister to not realise what was happening? When did things change between the two of you? 

No matter how hard I tried, sleep didn’t happen. I didn’t want to be here, in the city or in this apartment. Keira was acting like everything that’s happened is my own fault. 

The sun started to slowly seep through the curtains, and I heard Keira’s alarm go off. Followed by her getting into the show. I knew she would be in here soon, I doubt she trusted me enough to be left alone. Right on que she knocks on the door, letting me know Lucy will be here in 20 minutes. 

I waited until I heard Lucy come in the apartment before I started getting ready. Slowly I made my way out. 

“Good morning. Are you ready to go?” 

“I just need to brush my teeth.” I walked back up the hallway and into the bathroom. Not hearing the conversation or the confused looks between Keira and Lucy. 

“That was easy? Why didn’t she fight it? Ma and dad said that she’s been fighting with them over everything?” 

“I don’t know Kei. Maybe Mapi and Ale can get some answers out of her?” 

The drive was again, silent. Neither girls attempted to make conversation with me, I was grateful for that. If I had to be at this training ground, I would not make a noise. Keira hurried in first, presumably to get change first so I wouldn’t be left to wander. 

“She’s worried about you Noodle.” 

I stopped dead in my tracks, “why does she care now? Why do either of you care now?” My voice started to get louder, Lucy looked around, spotting her teammates getting out of their cars. 

“Noods cmon. Let’s not do this here.” 

“Why! You don’t want all your teammates to know that you and precious Keira left me! I don’t want to be here, in this stupid fucking country. You and Keira don’t want me here so let me leave!” 

“What’s going on?” The heavily accented voice stunned me for a moment, I’d completely forgotten that there were others around by the time I was done. 

“Nothing Ale. Sorry for the yelling.” Keira was very quickly by my side, probably been alerted by her other teammates. 

“Noah, this is Alexia, our captain and who you’re going to stay with today while we train.” 

“Hola Noah.” She stuck her hand out for me to shake. 

“Are you kidding me? I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. 

“Noah! Use your manners!” 

“Keira it’s fine. Let’s go then. I will show you around the place.” Keira and Lucy shared looks as I was ushered away by their captain. 

Neither of us spoke. Alexia just kept walking until we reached an empty conference room that overlooked the field. Slowly the team started to walk out onto the field. The silence was deafening, until Alexia broke it. 

“I have a little sister. She’s 26 so not as young as you are but I know it’s hard for Keira.” 

“All due respect, you don’t know shit.” She quirked an eye at that, eyes burning into the side of my head. Admittedly, I understood how people were intimidated by her but I wasn’t going to let her know that. 

“I do know Keira is worried about you. Lucia too. I know you were sent here and you’re upset about that but don’t take it out on Keira or Lucia. That’s not fair.” 

“Not fair? You want to know what’s not fair Alexia? My whole life it’s always been about Keira. Keira’s football, Keira’s awards, everything is about Keira. My ma cried for a week when Keira said she was moving out, then cried again when Keira said she was moving to Spain. None of them care about me. It’s all keeping up appearances. I bet if you asked Keira what I enjoyed doing she wouldn’t be able to answer. To Keira and my parents I’m just some annoying accident that they pretend doesn’t exist, so I’m so sorry if I hurt your precious Keira’s feelings.” 

I violently wiped the tears that came out. We sat in silence for the next half hour. I knew it wasn’t fair to lash out at Alexia, but no one was listening to me. No one ever listened to me. 

“Vamos. I have physio and you must come.” She made her way over to the door, waiting for me to get up. 

“Why are you not training? Aren’t you supposed to be the best?” 

“My knee hurts.” Her response was stern, clearly a soft spot for her. “Sit there. Don’t move please.” 

the more I watched her the more I realised we had something in common. We were both struggling. I pulled out my sketch pad, deciding now was the best time to get some stuff drawn. 

On the bike next to Alexia was a younger girl, she didn’t look too much older than me. Taking a mental photo of the imagine in front of me I got to work. After an hour, the younger girl came walking over, scaring me a little when she spoke because I was so into my work. 

“Hola, me llamo Jana. ¿Cómo te llamas?”

“Jana no habla español.” Alexia spoke up from the weights. 

“My names Noah.” 

“Nice to meet you. What are you working on?” At this point, it was just a bunch of messy lines. There wasn’t much to see or make out. 

“it’s nothing yet.” 

“Show me when you’re done?” I nodded. Not really planning on going through with it, “I have to leave now. Adiós Noah!” Her smile was infectious. 

No one disturbed me for the next little while until Alexia informed me she was going to the next room and for me to follow. She seemed to be fine talking about her knee, considering I didn’t understand a word of the fast Spanish they were speaking.  

“Vamos! We are done and we leave now.” 

“Leave? Where are we going?” Keira and Lucy never said anything about leaving, in fact they said the opposite. 

“My home. Let’s go, Olga is waiting.” She gave me a push out the door. 

“Who the fuck is Olga?” 

“Language Pequeño. Olga is my girlfriend. She will not hurt you. Keira said yes.” 

“Keira said yes to a stranger taking me in her car, to her house, where another stranger was waiting?”

“I am no stranger to Keira and you are know stranger to me. I know a lot. Vamos I am hungry.” 

Alexia’s car was fancy, really fancy. Definitely the nicest I’ve ever been in but I guess it makes sense when you’re as famous as she is. She riddled with her Spotify before driving off. It was a quiet drive, she didn’t push for conversation which I appreciated. 

Her apartment building is near the beach, looking over the coast of Barcelona. Seemed like a fitting place for her. As we pulled into the garage she started talking. 

“Olga, my girlfriend, doesn’t speak the best of English. She is very nice though.” 

“Keira and Lucy yell at me for talking to strangers so it’s fine.” 

“You’re a, sabelotodo, you can talk to her. Just slowly. Or I will translate.” 

“I don’t know what you said but thanks?” She laughed. We made our way upstairs, and into her apartment. 

“Jesus Christ this is fancy.” 

I could hear her groan from the hallway, “language Pequeño. Please take your shoes off.” 

I very quickly listened, throwing my shoes haphazardly near hers, then walking straight over to the big windows in her living room, ignoring the body on the couch. 

“Hola amor. Este es Noah. Lo está pasando un poco mal, así que mientras estoy en rehabilitación va a pasar el rato conmigo. Puede que no hable contigo, pero te prometo que es una buena niña.”

(Hola amor. This is Noah. She’s having a bit of a rough time so while I’m doing rehab she’s going to be hanging out with me. She might not talk to you, but I’m promise she’s a good kid.)

“¿Habla español? Mi inglés no es bueno, Ale.”

(Does she speak Spanish? My English isn’t good Ale.) They both turned their heads to me, I was too busy staring at the coast to pay any attention. 

“Noah, say hi please.” Alexia’s voice was soft. 

“Hola, soy Noah.” I gave a small shy wave. Both of them looked at me shocked. 

“¿Dijiste que no habla español?” Olga was dumbfounded. 

(You said she doesn’t speak Spanish?” )

“¿Ella no? ¿Keira y Lucy dijeron que no lo sabía? Noah, you speak Spanish?”

(She doesn’t? Keira and Lucy both said she doesn’t know it?)

“No. That girl from the gym, uh Jana? I remembered what she said and just said the same thing. Obviously replacing her name with mine because I’m not Jana, I’m Noah.” 

I pulled my sketch book and pencils out and started the draw the imagine in front of me. Olga and Alexia were engaged in a conversation behind me but I couldn’t understand them, not that I particularly cared anyway. 

After what felt like 5 minutes, Alexia interrupted. 

“Pequeño, come wash your hands please. Olga made lunch.” Abandoning my book and pencils I got up and followed her. We all sat at the table, Alexia started bringing the food out. 

“Gracias for lunch Olga.” 

“Mira, te lo dije. Es una buena niña”.

“You are okay.” Olga beamed at me. 

“Welcome, you’re welcome.” I smiled back, she seemed nice enough, obviously if she was with Alexia she couldn’t be a horrible person. 

“Ale, pregúntale qué estaba dibujando, por favor”.

“Olga wants to know what you’re drawing.” 

“Just the view out the window.” 

Alexia translated it back, then Olga said something else, so bloody fast it just sounded like one noise. 

“She would like to see it. If that’s okay, if it’s no that is fine.” 

“Okay.” I shrugged, getting up and walking back over to my book. I handed it to her and let her flick through it. Thankfully it was relatively new so there wasn’t any depressing stuff in it. 

“Ale and Jana, no?” I knew exactly which one she was talking about. I nodded my head and continued to eat. 

“Good. I like.” She flicked to the next page which was of the view outside. “Ale, ven a ver esto. ¡Es tan bueno!” (Ale, come look at this. It’s so good!”)

“You drew this just now?” Her eyebrows were raised, there was a look in her eyes that I couldn’t place. 

“Yeah? It’s not finished yet or prefect-“

“¡No, no! Esto es genial. Se ve perfecto. ¡Díselo a Ale! Dile lo genial que es.” (No no! This is great. It looks perfect. Tell her Ale! Tell her how great she is. )

Olga look excited, it worried me a little bit. “Olga loves it. She says you’re very great.” 

“Oh, um, gracias?” 

Olga placed the sketch book back on the table, we all continued to eat our lunch. It felt a bit awkward afterwards, alexia announced she was going to shower and then we would watch a movie until Lucy and Keira came. I helped Olga clean up from lunch and as we sat down on the couch, she pulled out google translate. Clearly wanting to have a conversation with me. 

“I have a proposition for you.” I urged her to continue, she typed quickly. “Alexia loves her mami and sister. If I gave you a photo of them, would you draw them? I will pay you of course, but you can’t tell Alexia.” 

I took her phone, “yes, but I don’t want money. Will you teach me Spanish instead? I don’t think I’m leaving anytime soon.” She agreed, throwing her arms around me and hugging me. 

Usually, hugs make me anxious, claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but there was something about this hug that didn’t. Maybe because it was full of appreciation and happiness and not out of obligation. 

Alexia came back and we all got comfortable. I sat in the middle, alexia joking it was so I didn’t run away, not that I’d get very far here. After 10 minutes of watching Lilo and Stitch (with the Spanish subtitles), my eyelids started getting heavy. My body finally realising what sleep is. It very quickly overcame me and I fell asleep with my head in alexia’s lap. 

Keira and Lucy arrived just after 5pm, they had some media things today which meant that they were later than normal. 

“Hola Keira y Lucy. Noah está dormido en el sofá con Ale. Entra”.

“Gracias” both girls softly said as they slipped off their shoes. The sight in front of them was not what they were expecting. Noah looked so small, and so peaceful snuggled into Alexia. 

“Noodle, hey kiddo you gotta wake up. We’ve got to go home.” Keira spoke, softly pushing hair out of my face. 

“Kei?” 

“Yeah baby. Come on. Do you have everything?” 

I groaned as I got up. That was a good sleep, at least for me it was. “Um I just need my pencils and book.” I very quickly gathered my stuff up. Saying a quick goodbye to Olga and Alexia and walking out her front door, Lucy was hot in my tail. 

“She’s a good kid Keira. She showed us her drawings, I think she’s better than Maps.” 

“Thank you Ale. I mean it. I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell Olga I said thank you too.” 

The ride back was quiet. We made small talk about our days but once we got inside Keira’s flat I beelined for the room I was staying in. Olga had sent me the photo of Alexia, her sister and Mami and I wanted to get a head start on it. It needed to be perfect, that meant it would take hours and hours. 

I was so lost in the artwork that I didn’t realise what time it was until Keira came in to tell me to get ready. With one look at me, she knew I didn’t sleep. She didn’t push it though. 

Alexia took me away as soon as we arrived, this time to the cafeteria. 

“We eat, then go to the gym. Get some food please.” The concern was evident in her voice, Keira probably told her I didn’t sleep or eat anything since I left her house yesterday. 

I sat down with a small bowl of fruit and a piece of toast, alexia sighed when she saw the little amount of food I had, “we will work on you eating more and better.” 

The morning was the same as yesterday, I sat and continued my drawing of Alexia and Jana, expect this time someone else interrupted. 

“Hola Poco Walsh. I am Mapi.” She sat down next to me, a child like smile on her face, “you draw alexia and Jana?” 

I turned the page towards her and her eyes almost popped out of her head. “¡Dios mío, eres tan bueno! ¡Muy, muy bueno!” 

“María, déjala en paz, por favor.” 

“Aye capi, we are friends yes. She draws good!” 

“Vamos Pequeño, we leave now. Say goodbye Maria.” Mapi said goodbye straight away, I laughed at her enthusiasm. 

Alexia’s car was warm, soft and safe. The sound of the engine and the soft music out of the radio lulled me into a sleep very quickly. She woke me up when we arrived and we went upstairs. I threw my shoes off, remembering yesterday when she said no shoes in the house, then threw myself onto the couch. 

Alexia smiled, announced she was going to shower and then walked off. Her couch was like a big cloud, it engulfed me and I easily went back off to sleep. she woke me back up after an hour, shoving a plate of food and a bottle of water in my heads. It was quiet for a while until Alexia spoke. 

“Why are you angry with Keira and your parents? I heard what you said to Lucy yesterday.” 

“Did you know I played the piano?” 

“Nena, that’s not what I asked.” She was stern. 

“I know, but did you know?” 

“No. But I only just meet you.” 

“Keira has known me all my life and I could bet £100 that you know more about me than she does. You probably know more about me than my own parents.” 

“I don’t think I understand nena?” 

“My whole life has been about Keira. Travelling to see Keira play, missing piano recitals because Keira is playing. I remember when Man City won the league, it happened on my birthday and my parents said we couldn’t go out because Keira won. That was the start of them missing my birthdays. I was 9. Then I got into this music school in London that offered lessons on Saturdays, so I could sell my drawings to pay for it and catch the train to London for my lessons. I got into this school and was going to ask my parents to let me go but then Keira said she was leaving for Barcelona. Then they would leave me at home, alone so they can go to Spain for Keira. Keira never cared but Lucy did. So did Leah. But then Lucy left too and I guess it just became too much. They only i was gone after the World Cup, which they forced me to attend. So it’s just been me, in the shadows and Keira never said anything or cared.” I didn’t realise I was crying until the tears dropped onto the table. 

“Oh nena, come here.” She pulled me into the tightest hug I’ve ever had. “I will talk to Keira yes? We can fix things?” I nodded my head against her chest. She let me cry for a minute before dragging me into her bedroom, pushing me onto the bed and then walking away and coming back with a change of clothes. 

“Put these on, then we will watch a movie.” 

I did as she said, climbed back into her bed and got comfy. After she picked a movie and put English subtitles on, we both relaxed. I ended up falling asleep, again. This time in a warm, comfy bed. 

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Willie Mays 1931-2024

Above: Willie Mays in 1956. Photo: UPI/ABC News

Willie Mays, one of the greatest ballplayers in history, died today at the age of 93. He was one of the dominant figures in the golden age of New York baseball, when the Giants, the Dodgers, and the Yankees battled for supremacy. From 1947 to the Giants' and Dodgers' final season in New York in 1957, at least one of those three teams played in 10 of 11 World Series, and won 9 of them.

His stats are astonishing. Over his 22 years in the majors, he had a .301 batting average. He had 3,293 hits, including 660 home runs. His 7,112 putouts as an outfielder rank No. 1 in major league history, and he had 657 more playing first base. He stole 338 bases at a time when base stealing was not as common as it is now. He batted in 1,909 runs. Beginning in 1957, the year the title was created, he won 12 Gold Gloves.

But more than his statistics was his infectious joy in playing. He greeted everyone with "Say hey" and became known as the Say Hey Kid.

“Willie could do everything from the day he joined the Giants,” said Leo Durocher, his manager during most of his years at the Polo Grounds. “He never had to be taught a thing. The only other player who could do it all was Joe DiMaggio.” And DiMaggio said of him, "Willie Mays is the closest to being perfect I’ve ever seen."

Above: Willie Mays slides safely into the plate in the sixth inning of a game against the Phillies at the Polo Grounds, ca. early 1950s. Photo: Bettmann Archive/Getty Images/NBC News

Above: Willie's famous catch in the 1954 World Series at the Polo Grounds on September 29, 1954. His over-the-shoulder catch made while running is considered to be one of the greatest plays in baseball history. The score was tied at 2-2, and not only did he prevent a home run, he threw the ball in to the infield, preventing runners on base from scoring. The Giants went on to sweep the Cleveland Indians in four games.

Above: Mays plays stickball with local kids in Harlem in 1954. He lived on 155th Street while playing with the Giants. In 2017, the corner of 155th Street and Harlem River Drive was renamed Willie Mays Drive. Photo: Bettmann Archive/ABC News

Mays at home in Harlem with his landlady, Ann Goosby, in 1954. A profile of Mays published that year in LIFE pointed out that Mrs. Goosby “cooks his meals, keeps his clothes clean and generally takes care of” the young star. Photo: Alfred Eisenstaedt via Life magazine

Above: Willie Mays at the Polo Grounds in 1954. Photo: Patrick A. Burns for the NY Times via Instagram

[louisupdates]

10:37 EST 21 Nov 2024, updated 11:24 EST 21 Nov 2024

By SEAN O'GRADY

Louis Tomlinson has donated a piece of sentimental fabric to community football club Grenfell Athletic's 'Fabric of the Community' project.

The club are creating a kit comprised of cuts of fabric from donated items of clothing that survived the Grenfell fire and celebrities are also donating fabric too.

The emotionally charged football shirt drops on Thursday and features a perimeter area surrounding the club emblem reserved for a bespoke cut of fabric cut from donated items of clothing, including fabrics that survived the Grenfell fire.

In honour of everyone that lost their homes as a result of the devastating fire in June 2017, Louis, 32, has donated his beloved Doncaster Rovers FC shirt.

He said: 'Wherever I am in the world and I have my Doncaster Rovers FC shirt with me, it reminds me of home.

'When I am touring and I see a member of the audience wearing one, I get a real feeling of home, no matter where I am.'

Professional football star Héctor Bellerín, meanwhile, has donated a match-worn shirt from his time at fellow London club and Premier League giants Arsenal, continuing his support for Grenfell having previously pledged over £19,000 to support victims in the aftermath of the fire.

Rupert Taylor, founder of Grenfell Athletic, said: 'Our club was born out of a desire to heal and bring our community ever closer through the power of football.

'We're so thankful for every person who donated their fabrics and bravely shared their stories, and we hope the project offers an additional avenue for healing and a platform for showing how inspirational our community truly is.

'The hearts and souls of the people of Grenfell are woven into Grenfell Athletic's DNA, and now they'll be woven into the club's shirts, too.'

The news of Louis’ heartwarming donation comes just hours after he attended the funeral of his former One Direction bandmate Liam Payne.

[x]

[randombush3]

ubi amor, ibi dolor

alexia putellas x reader

part one

words: 11455 (SORRY THERE WAS A LOT TO FIT IN)

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks part two x

content warnings: it’s gets a little sad but tbh the next part is the one you should be worried abt 🤘

notes: this one covers 2017-2019. i apologise if it’s a bit jumpy because if i covered EVERYTHING you’d be sat here reading for days. also, this part was so slow to be finished because i abandoned it for ages and only just decided i should probs get to finishing it. the next part is the last one!

It’s about three months later, and there is not a silence that can’t be filled with the sound of Alexia’s voice. You don’t know how to prove this, because you leave none to be filled, instead seeking to occupy every spare second granted by your tour schedule to call her, to text her; to talk to her. 

You spend your nights on balconies all over the continent. Your smoking habit is worsening but the excuse of getting some fresh air to do so is a perfect way to weasel yourself out of parties and clubs and late-night chats with your friends. You much prefer to spend your time finding out more about the woman you quickly become obsessed with. She often verbalises her disdain for your disregard for your lungs – something that transcends the language barrier with an overwhelming clarity – but she is glad that you are talking to her either way.

A few times, you go as far as to hop on a secretly booked flight. You never step outside the airport, leaving Barcelona very much stamped in your passport but not on your list of places you have explored, but Alexia is more than content to pursue your hooded figure as you lead her into hidden corners of the arrivals lounge she begins to associate with the racing feeling in her heart when she sees you. Kissing against walls and on hard airport seats is not what feeds most budding romances, but you don’t care. You happily fly to her whenever you have a spare five minutes, and she is more than content to make the time spent physically together worthwhile.

The tour is nearly over. Five shows in three weeks, and then you can traipse back to London to fight off the delayed hangover in the comfort of your own home with meals cooked by your parents to keep you going. One of the worst things about being on the road is the food (or lack thereof), and your athlete gi… Alexia, is unimpressed with your nutrition. You find that she does not agree with most of your lifestyle, yet she seems captivated by it; like she is discovering a different, scarier world, and she can’t close her eyes.

Alexia’s birthday is soon. 

She has enough dread for the event to have communicated it far more efficiently than usual, with most conversations needing to be doubled in length to get past the all-too-familiar grunts of unrecognition. The streets of Barcelona are filled with whispers of a women’s league, and she is unsure of the pressure that is starting to grow on her shoulders. A birthday is inconvenient, she claims, though you only laugh. 

You tell her about Virgil – she knows you love him, she knows you love most things to do with him – and his famous quote. “Labor omnia vincit,” you say, finding it ironic that you are only able to talk to her right now because you skipped out on soundcheck and a run-through with the backup dancers. “Work conquers all. It reminds me of you.” 

Her lilting Spanish laughter fades as she actually thinks about it. 

“Es verdad,” Alexia replies, and you are glad to understand. “Quiero ser la mejor del mundo así que ‘labor omnia vincit’.” 

“You’re speaking Latin with a Spanish accent.” 

“You love my accent.” 

You smile. It’s true. 

…

It hasn’t settled in Alexia’s mind that you, who calls her whenever you can because you miss her opinions and her jokes and the face that you can picture when she speaks, are the same person as the one she sees on Jenni’s phone as the team crowds round the screen to watch a viral video from your concert last night. 

“A birthday present for you, eh, Ale?” Jenni jests, clinging on to Alexia’s admission months ago about her crush on you. She doesn’t know about the reality of it all. No one does, as of yet. 

“Who puts them in these outfits?” asks Leila, mildly outraged at the bedazzled lingerie you’d been dressed in. “There’s nothing to them! They might as well go on stage naked.” 

“It’s fine. They get hot while they’re performing anyway,” Alexia dismisses, not wanting to delve into your issues with your stylist. Well. Her issues with your stylist, who seems to not care about dignity or have any faith in the world’s imagination. (That, and Alexia is not sure she likes this idea of sharing, though she is aware that nothing defines you as hers.)

“Oh, did they tell you that themselves?” She glares at Jenni, and shoulders her way out of the huddle. It’s not Jenni’s fault that her mood has been easily soured, because tomorrow is Alexia’s birthday and then, the next day, she has to get to Madrid for her national camp. The Euros later this year is going to be in the Netherlands, and her dreams for her country are currently far-fetched. It hurts, and you’re well aware of her misery.

In fact, you are so aware that you are on a flight from Oslo on the fourth of February. It’s too special a day to miss. You have once again abandoned soundcheck. 

Alexia receives a text as she slides into her mother’s old car, considering flinging the device out of the window at one of her teammates’ heads after they sang to her at training without the mercy of letting her forget that she is one year closer to the end of her career. At this rate, the career will be full of wasted potential. She is in a terrible mood about it. 

And then she looks at her phone. 

You have really tried to up your game with the Spanish of late, enlisting the help of a private tutor who Skypes you twice a week with new phrases and grammar that mildly resembles that of a dead language you carry more than a passion for. 

You: Estoy aquí!

The only thing she can think to do is slam her index finger on the call button of your contact, nail bending painfully on the glass of the screen. 

Your instructions are clear: “Airport. Now.” 

She drives. 

She drives at an embarrassingly desperate speed, because just over a week is too long a separation and her day has been awful and there is something so magnetic about your presence that she would be going against nature to do anything other than find you. Obviously, find you she does: right in the arrivals lounge, same black hoodie as always disguising your identity. It’s not any busier than usual, and you catch sight of her the minute she pushes her way to the front of the crowd of expectant faces. 

With a weary grin, you walk towards her, and she knows that this game is only temporary. There will be privacy close by, and you can speak then. 

She turns with a nod, and you follow as she takes the usual route, but suddenly there are fingers intertwined with her own and you are stopping her in front of everyone. 

“Feliz cumpleaños,” you say with a pronounced failure and a hilariously concentrated expression. Alexia giggles, and the storm cloud above her dissipates, but the kiss she wants to press to your lips will have to wait. There’s somewhere empty just around the corner, and she tugs your hand to get you to come with her – to match the same haste she has – but you don’t. “Al coche. So we can go to your casa.” 

Her eyebrows raise. 

“It’s your birthday,” you explain, stepping towards her so that the people around you see a couple instead of two women walking in a vague direction. Alexia swallows, body tingling at your proximity. Her body always tingles when you stand near her like this. “It’s your birthday, so I am here for the night. My flight is tomorrow.” 

She understands you entirely. 

She all but drags you to her car. 

Alexia does not even remember what it’s like to be miserable. She is set alight by your presence, by your lips, your hands, your soft greeting that you whisper in her ear when she pulls away to drive you to her flat. It’s a new place, and she is free from the fuss of her mother. 

You smile when she pulls you out, taking your bulging handbag in one hand and grasping yours with the other, and she kisses that smile as she presses you against the mirror in the lift. The bag hits the floor with a thud, your overnight things spilling out because of her carelessness, but you pay the rolling Dior lipstick no mind, too caught up in the way her tongue swirls in your mouth. How her hands grip your waist. 

She’s stronger than last time. She gets stronger every day: she is going to be the best footballer in the world. She is dedicated to her sport. 

Your palms travel up the back of her t-shirt, cold from the metal you’d previously had them pressed against. Alexia flinches as your fingers brush a particular spot, the skin there slightly raised. 

“¿Que pasó?” you ask, head tilted to the side as she draws back, panting. “Are you hurt?”

She examines your eyes. Deeply inquisitive. Full of something that may resemble love in the future. 

Alexia smiles – an expression that she wears mostly when she is thinking about you. You watch as she turns around, the lift jerking to a halt as if to hurry up her slow movements. As she lifts up her t-shirt, you eye the tattoos you are aware decorate her back. There are going to be more someday, she has always been clear about that. 

And, oh. 

You’re not usually so attached. Alexia, it’s apparent, is a complete exception.

She asks you if you like it. You lean forward, and kiss the four words (she must have researched the quote, because you excluded the last when you mentioned it), tongue running over the redness as if you are going to heal the irritation. She moans quietly, more surprised than anything else. 

“Do I get the credit for it?” She shakes her head, which you catch in the mirror opposite, and, before you can voice your protest, she is facing the right way again and kissing you as she leads you to her door. “You know, there’s another quote from him that I much prefer to that one. ‘Labor omnia vincit improbus’ is… Do you know the word workaholic?” Again, her head shakes. She backs you against the wall next to her door, lips attached to your neck as you keen under her touch. 

She slots her leg between yours, and you forget your next sentence. 

It’s a heated kiss. It promises tonight’s activities to you, and you cannot wait for her to unlock her door. 

Your lips run along her neck as she jams her key into the lock. You suck and bite, spurred on by the moans she bites back with a clenched jaw. You find it sexy: her determination to get you inside. And it’s her birthday, after all. She deserves it. You have another gift for her in your bag, but she is grateful for this anyway.

“Inside,” she gasps as you smooth your tongue over the newly-created hickey you just gave her, kicking her door wide open and hauling you through the gap. 

The flat is pitch black, but Alexia knows it well enough to chuck your bag towards the dining table and have you on your way to the bedroom without needing to switch any lights on. But your hands wander, and she gets distracted. She stops you in the middle of the flat, only half a second into your journey, and her life feels so full (especially when you moan like that). The room feels so full. 

The room is full. 

The room is…

“Moltes felicitats, moltes felici–” sings (and abruptly stops) a whole choir of Alexia’s friends and family, the lights switching to bathe the two of you in total mortification. 

Alba’s hand covers the eyes of her cousin’s six-year-old, whose mouth has formed a perfect circle.  

Silence washes over what looks to be a surprise birthday party. One which Alexia was assured yesterday was not going to happen. By multiple guilty attendees! 

Alexia looks helplessly between you, her mother, and the shit-eating grin on Jenni Hermoso’s face, remembering herself promptly when Eli’s eyes drop to the placement of her hands on your bum. She almost jumps away from you. 

“Fuck off,” you mutter under your breath, stewing in the terribly awkward silence as Alexia’s eyes only grow wider and wider. “Alexia.” 

She breaks from her frozen state, thawed by the husk of your voice. 

“Jo…” 

The crowd explodes, and you let the tsunami of Catalan wash over your ears. There is so much noise, and so many people, and you can only watch as Alexia tries to answer all of their questions. She shakes her head, nodding at the same time, switching between two different languages to cover the shrieks from Jenni and the absolute bollocking her mother is giving her in front of everyone about dignity and respect. You are famous, says Eli, and you do not need Alexia’s horny motives to embarass you like that. 

“She’s a celebrity,” Eli chides with a glare at her daughter, eyes softening as you continue to stare at the sea of faces blankly. You are backed against a wall with nowhere to run. “Alexia, introduce us to your girlfriend. Now.” 

“You guys don’t need to be introduced to her!” Alexia replies like a petulant child, nearly crossing her arms and stamping her foot. “You know her name, and you’ve seen her. So you should all leave, really. Mami, I told you I didn’t want a party.” 

Eli’s hands fly from her body to halt the departure of the guests as they catch on to how unwanted they are. “No, we are still going to have this party,” she insists. It’s the final decision. “So, go on. Introduce us.” It’s definitely not a question. 

You clear your throat, wanting to save Alexia somehow. “Hola,” you begin, and every face breaks out into a beaming grin. “Um. Soy Y/n. Y… soy de Inglaterra?” 

“Sí,” Eli says with a swell of encouragement that you can feel from two metres away. 

 “Alexia,” you plead. 

“Guys, this is Y/n. She doesn’t speak Spanish, and she definitely does not speak Catalan, so either you practise your English or we cut the cake Mami has made and then you–”

“I am a big fan!” Jenni squeals, accented words loud and piercing as she surges towards you, sparking the movement of the entire body of people. No one listens to the rest of Alexia’s declaration. 

… 

There is a reason you are so well-liked, Alexia determines. She can see it as you interact with her family and closest friends. You smile and you listen and you remember things about people that they would deem insignificant. And it helps that you look breath-taking while doing it all.

Sitting at her dining table, Alba on one side, her mother on the other, she watches you flit around her flat with a talent for socialising, charming every person you speak to. 

“She doesn’t know how you feel, does she?” Eli comments, noticing the hesitation in her daughter’s expression. 

“I don’t know how she feels,” is what Alexia replies, because there is no way you can ignore the emotion she pours into your conversations. It exceeds that of a simple crush or hormone-fuelled desire. “She is incredible. I am me.” 

“You are Alexia Putellas.” 

“And she at least likes the way you kiss her,” Alba chimes in, her contribution unnecessary but making Alexia blush at the memory. The fact that her entire family saw that, most of them knowing where you were heading, is something she might be tossing and turning about at night for a while yet. 

“Your father would love her.” 

“I think so too,” Alexia says, chin resting on her palm as the world melts away, your eyes briefly meeting with hers as one of the children giggles at the face you have just pulled behind their mother’s back. A pang of disappointment reverberates in her chest as she grieves momentarily over the loss of her favourite person on Earth, wishing he could have shared the traumatic experience of today. He would’ve laughed so hard at her face when the lights went on.  

“She seems lovely, really. Very polite. Is it because she’s English?” 

“She is very…”

“I suppose the Latin came from her?” Alba asks with a smirk, prodding the fresh tattoo over the thin material of Alexia’s t-shirt, grinning as her sister hisses in pain. 

“Next time, we can go somewhere quieter and talk properly. I know that you’ll be busy when tonight is over.” 

Both Alexia and Alba shudder. “Mami!” her little sister groans, suppressing her gag. 

“Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, Alba.” 

“Never say ‘sex’ in front of me again,” Alexia tells her smug mother.

“Well, never get so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice the balloons taped to your flat number.” 

Alexia bolts outside to check, and hates herself when she sees them. 

…

“Dance with me!” 

You grab Alexia’s hand, pulling her towards you. The party has lasted longer than she’s happy with, and you have seemingly forgotten about what you could be doing. You love to dance. You love music. 

The little boy who’d been your partner up until now sticks his tongue out at Alexia, and she reciprocates the gesture. She is the birthday girl, after all. 

You don’t understand a word of the music, but the beat flows through your hips as you move them against her. She runs her hands up and down your sides, your tank top now the only layer between your skin and her impatient fingers, hoodie having been stripped off the minute the party became interesting. 

“My mother likes you,” Alexia whispers into your ear as you sway in time to the rhythm. Her lips brush your ear lobe, and you shiver despite the growing heat between you. 

“This was very much a surprise,” you giggle in response, possibly answering wrong because her Spanish didn’t quite catch.

“Mhm.”

“I can’t wait for them to leave.” 

Her eyebrows furrow. “You are not having fun?” 

“I am,” you reply with a nod, a smirk slowly creeping into your content expression. She holds her breath, reminding herself of the presence of her family as you grind into her. “But I also can’t wait to fuck you.” 

Alexia shudders.

“I will tell them to go.” 

They cut the cake. 

They sing again, completing the lyrics this time. You are even taught them before-hand, pushed out to the side of the crowd, very much silently told that you currently hold no place in Alexia’s life in comparison to these people. They all love her. You aren’t there yet. 

But, she values your presence. 

Alexia doesn’t care much about the people here tonight. She sees them almost every day, and she knows they are constants. What she does care about is you. 

You, in that tank top. You, with your hair down, face fresh even though your day must have been exhausting. You, with a red mark on your collarbone that no one knows how to point out to you in English. 

Soon, everyone is gone, and you are panting underneath her. Her lips capture yours, muffling the groan that comes with the movement of her fingers inside you. Your legs wrap around her body tighter, heels digging into her back. 

Her hair falls around you; encapsulating you, surrounding you with only her. Her smell, her taste, her fingers. 

You moan as her determination to destroy you becomes apparent. She hits every spot that has been neglected for the past few months, and though it is the first time the two of you are doing this, it’s as if Alexia has studied your body for years already.

She breaks apart from you as you come, your back arching off the mattress, chest pressing against hers. She wants to see your face for the first time. If she had a camera, she would have used it. You look beautiful. 

Nothing on Earth compares to the cliff you have just been pushed off, and it is as if you are falling for eternity. 

She goes again, and again, and again. She’s an athlete. 

She ruins you, but her strong arms hold you together afterwards. 

You fall asleep, for the first time in a while, with someone by your side. Whose hands find purchase on her favourite part of you, pulling you on top of her as she whines at your own tired attempt to make her feel good. Alexia whispers that she has been given enough, that she doesn’t need it, and she thinks you fall asleep to the sound of her incomprehensible, breathy Spanish. You cling to her. 

…

The tour ends. 

You couldn’t be happier. The final show is a blessing, and the tears in your eyes are of joy. You, Gio, and Anya are going home at last. 

However, the well-decorated flat you walk into lacks everything possible, because there is no Alexia standing in the middle of the living room. She can’t be here, though you wish things were different. The season has been successful for her so far, and she is busy. 

You really miss her. One night wasn’t enough. It will never be enough, and you are starting to realise the gravity of your blushes. 

You like Alexia, and you have fallen hard and fast.

“You’re not coming back with us,” your brother says knowingly, skiing beside you down the picturesque blue run in Les Gets. You have come here every year since you were eight. April is a little later than usual, and the snow often turns to slush towards the afternoon – though one could argue that is simply a cue to move onto apres-ski – but it is pleasant to be on holiday with your family. People try to bother you, but it is easier to pretend you don’t see their waves when you have your ski goggles pulled over your eyes. 

Your brother coughs, not pleased that you are ignoring him, reducing him to ‘everyone else’. (His ego, far too preened, far too large, cannot handle the idea of that.)

In front of the two of you, your father turns with precision and great technique. You can’t relate: you’re drunk. You have been since this morning. 

“Sorry?” Your innocence is pretence and he rolls his eyes behind his Oakleys. 

“Your flight. I saw it was booked to take you somewhere else. Somewhere you’ve been going a lot.” 

“You’re not subtle.” 

“You’re not subtle,” he replies, skis dangerously close to yours. You have to swerve, sending you onto the off-piste section of the run much to your irritation. With the excuse of tackling the jumps, however, you are lucky to evade further questioning, watching as he glides off into the distance, reaching the banner and skidding to a halt to wait for you and your mother. Your mother prefers to drink more than ski. She is always holding up the rear. 

When you return to the chalet, bought by your parents a decade ago to solidify their roots in Les Gets, your brother seems to have remembered your conversation from earlier. Your parents have gone out for dinner, leaving the two of you to make something for yourselves. He is glad to have you alone. 

“You don’t like lads, do you?” And, in truth, it’s an insightful question by his standards. He cares; he just does not know how to show it. 

Pausing the construction of your sandwich for a moment, you allow him to see you for who you are. He’s your brother, after all. “Not at all,” comes your response. 

He hums. “Thought so. You’d have gone out with half of England’s football team otherwise. God knows that they don’t mind.” 

“England has a women’s team.” 

“Gross.” His lips purse as he thinks about his little sister’s love life, and he decides that he would like to know more about Barcelona. “Are you buying a villa?” 

“What?” 

“Well, you go to Barcelona a lot. Are you buying a villa with the girls? Is that what celebrities do?” 

You roll your eyes. “Mum and Dad buy villas. It isn’t just celebrities who splurge on property.” 

“You’re not answering my question.” 

“I wish you’d never become a lawyer.” 

He laughs – hearty and deep. His laugh reminds you of dark forests for some reason; tall trees that dwarf your body, but keep you safe nonetheless. “I wish you’d never gotten famous. My life would be so much quieter if half my mates weren’t trying to squeeze something or other out of my connections.” His pride is profound in his misery, and you smile, blushing. “You’re not buying a villa.” 

“Well done, genius,” you taunt, assembling your sandwich once again in hopes that the baguette will kill the buzz in your mind. You can’t really think when you’re drunk, and, recently, when there is nothing else to occupy you, your mind wanders to Alexia. What is she doing now? Does she miss you? Is she excited to see you in three days? 

It dawns upon his face with an amusing animation. “You’re seeing someone,” he accuses. 

“Maybe,” you shrug. “She’d be one lucky girl.” 

“One unlucky girl, you mean. I’d better find out who she is and tell her to run for the hills. You’re about two decades overdue for an exorcism, and it shows.” He swiftly appears behind you, despite his lumbering limbs, and flicks your ear as your teeth sink into your dinner. You squeal, pushing backwards to get him away from you. “What’s her name? Who is she? What does she do?”

“She is… classified.” 

He reaches for his phone. “I’m going to find a list of Spanish names and see which one turns you into a tomato.” 

“She’s still classified.” You prod your index finger into his shoulder.

“Hey.” You retract your finger, surprised by the tenderness of his tone. “You can tell me, you know. You’re my little sister. I really don’t give enough of a fuck to spread it.” 

With great shame, you absolutely do not need to be told twice to talk about your favourite Spanish woman on the planet at the moment. He actually has to beg you to stop. 

…

Things with Alexia are good. 

Not just in terms of your relationship, but in general, too. Walks are more enjoyable, and so are mornings, afternoons, evenings. She likes that you feel comfortable to chill in her flat while she goes to training. She likes that she comes home to you. She likes that you spend your days with a pencil between your teeth, a blank page set out in front of you. 

Now that the tour is over, it is clear what comes next. The new album will be the best ever made, you have decided, because you might finally understand the lyrics that you sing. They could resonate. 

They will resonate. 

Alexia asks you to be her girlfriend when she drops you off at the airport. Your plane is private and she can kiss you goodbye when you agree. 

You love being Alexia’s girlfriend. You repeat your new identity over and over as you fly back to London, and it is a mantra that plays on loop in your mind as you get on with life back home. 

The girls tease you mercilessly when you spill it. All three of you are on the balcony, though this time there is a joint placed between your fingers rather than a cigarette. Slightly high, more so giddy about Alexia, you confess. They’re happy for you, but Gio can’t help but text Anya later that night. 

Gio: Have you seen the new plan? 

Anya: What plan? 

Gio is sitting upright in her bed, ensuring that her panic is quiet so her new boyfriend does not wake up. Her fingers hover over the keys shamefully, but she has to tell someone and it can’t be you.

Gio: The publicity plan. 

It’s at your studio session the next day when all comes to light. Your manager/publicist appears, which is honestly quite rare. She’s not fond of the claustrophobia of the small room, nor the darkness it becomes shrouded in when you, Gio, and Anya are trying not to murder each other. 

Dave swivels around on his chair, bored with the bickering. You aren’t sure about a lyric, but they disagree, even if Anya knows you have a better point than the third member of your group. 

Your manager clears her throat. ���Y/n, may I speak with you? It’s quite important.” 

“Do this lyric without me,” you grit out to Gio. 

“It’s your solo.” 

“I don’t care.” 

With that, you follow your manager into the corridor. 

They hear your protests from the studio, the shout of frustration piercing through the small gap underneath the door, overcoming the supposedly impregnable sound-proofing. 

There are tears streaming down your face upon your return. Fuck her, and fuck him. 

Anya and Gio can’t look at you. Their chins dip to their chest as they slump in place, succumbing to the predetermined guilt they discovered last night. 

“It’s not fair,” you cry to them as they refuse to turn around, throwing yourself onto the sofa with a heaving sob. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair. She’s going to hate me — she’s not going to love me anymore, and I… I love her.”

Anya’s mouth opens with a sob of her own. She had thought Alexia was a dalliance. She hadn’t realised. 

It’s fun to have someone, she knows, but it is painful to love them. 

You are clearly not enjoying yourself now. 

“You love her?” she asks, though she is sure of the answer as another gasp leaves your body with a chilling desperation. 

“Yes, I fucking love her. It was obvious.” 

“But you—”

“Because I’m not out!” 

“So what did she tell you?” 

“They want it to last a few months. Enough to draw the attention away from my aversion to men and his relationship with some blogger.” 

Anya gulps. A few months is a lot to endure, especially for the footballer whose heart you’ll be breaking. “You’ve said no, right?” she tries, paling as she grips onto the mic stand, trying in vain to remember the harmony she is supposed to sing. “You’ve told them… You’re you, of course you’ve said no!”

“Of course,” Gio adds, equally in denial. 

You can only shake your head. 

You were not given a choice. 

Telling Alexia is hard, and not just because of the tears running through your words as you try to get them out over the phone. 

In Barcelona, her head hangs in disappointment. She is never going to be good enough for you, she tells herself. The world will soon slot you by the side of another celebrity, and you will be pictured together as many times as humanly possible. No one will know that she is the one you call when you need to talk to someone, or that it is her rose that is pressed between your favourite copy of Little Women, saved from Sant Jordi. No one will be any the wiser to the girlfriend you keep in Spain, nor assume that you are visiting the country for a reason other than tourism and partying with your favourite foreign men’s football team. 

It goes like this for months. 

It sours the second- place finish in the league even more; makes the Champions League semi-final exit soul-destroying; and completely ruins her joy about winning the Copa de la Reina (worsened by a picture of you and him released the morning of the final). 

She is still your girlfriend, but she is always one step behind you. She is in the shadows of the crowd when you sell out Wembley for the first time, and is just out of frame in the picture captured backstage of you and your lover embracing. His muscles do not feel the same as Alexia’s, but he becomes a friend, you guess. He isn’t fond of the arrangement either. 

Then, when Alexia feels as though she might explode from the jealousy she harbours, she is tested once more as you go radio silent for a day. It’s unbearable. You usually text her every hour. 

She misses hearing you greet her with ‘I took a smoke break’. She misses the taste of your lips, and the heat of your breath, and the swell of emotion you cause inside of her when you show her that you really care. 

It’s a hard day. The Euros have started, and Spain has won their first two group stage matches. Vilda is terrible as usual, but it is nothing in comparison to the cavity left in her chest where you have carved out your notifications. Alexia has never wished to be distracted from football before, but today is clearly Judgement Day. 

“Is this about your girlfriend?” Jenni pesters, mocking Alexia’s frown by exaggerating it on her own face. “She’s not pinging your phone every five minutes and now you’re inconsolable.” 

“I have many things to be upset about,” Alexia replies moodily, though Vilda’s earlier berating has had no effect on her mood because it simply cannot get worse. “Our coach is shit, and we don’t get treated like England or Holland does.”

“And your girlfriend hasn’t texted you.” 

“Yes, Jenni. She hasn’t texted me.” 

She sighs. 

Jenni is repulsed by the fire in Alexia’s belly seemingly having been put out. Her grimace is noticeable as she bends down to unlace her boots, glancing around the shoddy locker room, imagining what Alexia claims a few of the other teams have. 

“Maybe she’s busy. She is, like, famous. She could be out for lunch with Shakira!” 

“No, that was last month.” 

Jenni pauses for a moment, awestruck at her friend's seriousness, before collecting herself and trying another approach. “Why don’t we do some shooting practice while you wait for her to call? That way, Spain gets more goals, and you’re…” 

She doesn’t get to finish, cut off by the alarming brrrp of Alexia’s phone. Her friend saddens at the volume, pitying Alexia for how loud she has turned her ringer up just in case she had been missing your notification all along. 

Alexia swipes her phone up from the bench, and hurries into the toilets. 

Throughout the five months you have been dating, Alexia has become increasingly more aware of your intense reactions to emotional situations. You feel when you feel. She admires you for your work ethic, as you do her, because you fly from Barcelona to London and back again, all while writing songs, humming melodies, and holding together your high-profile life. Unfortunately, your determination and tendency to give everything and more has bled into every aspect of your life. And you are a wreck when she finally gets a word out of you. 

“Tranquila, cariño,” she tries as you suck in a pathetically shallow breath. She knows exactly how many kilometres away from her you are, and she wishes she could sprint the distance. “Tranquila. What has happened?” 

“I… I fired her.” 

“Who?” 

“My manager.” Alexia’s hand balls into a fist and she quietly celebrates. Well, until you sob again. “I mean, we all fired her. But now we have no manager and Dave is concerned about the structure of our group and the album sucks and it’s shit and HE tried to kiss me yesterday, even though he’s got a girlfriend too!” 

“Búa, más slower, por favor. I’m not inglesa!” 

Life, even if you are upset right now, starts to look up. You even get to spend a month with her, practising your Spanish (mejor-ing your nivel de español), meeting her family in a more appropriate context, and even watching the first match of the 2017-2018 season. Which Alexia is adamant they will win. 

…

She proposes in November; a year after you kissed. 

It’s not a hard decision to make. Not when you have built IKEA furniture together, and spent a week in Menorca with her, her mother, and her sister. Not when her English is littered with your vocabulary and references to Virgil and the like, and your family can all shout at you in Spanish because they’ve heard her do it so many times. Not when ‘I love you’ is the easiest sentence she’s ever said. Every minute of her life that she gives you is like exchanging part of her soul for pure, complete bliss. 

You’re fucking freezing, and befuddled at the fact that Alexia has requested to take a walk in the park near your flat. Your Spanish girlfriend, the same woman who finds summer too temperate in England, has somehow turned into a snow-lover, even if there is only damp grass and a biting wind. Alexia wishes England had white Christmases, but it’s a myth, she has discovered. 

The ring sits in her coat pocket. She chose it with Alba before she left the warmer climate of Barcelona, and her sister did not ask her whether she was rushing into things. It’s not too soon; if anything, she should’ve asked a year ago. 

“Fuck me, it’s cold,” you groan as you shiver. She takes your hand, her woollen gloves itchy against your bare skin, but it warms you up. “We could be inside, in bed. There’s a new series we could start, or, I don’t know, don’t you have some football game to watch?” 

“I hate watching football with you.” 

You part your lips to respond, but she is not lying and she has said it before. Some bullshit about you supporting all the wrong teams. 

“Well, I hate it when you drag me out into the freezing cold for no reason. If you want a dog to bring on walks, just say so. We can go to Battersea before you leave tomorrow.” 

“Don’t,” she murmurs, halting you both near the inky water of the lake you have been circling for the past five minutes. It sucks that her visits are temporary, even if you are technically moved into each other’s homes (she has your keys, you have hers). With the remaining time left before her flight tomorrow at noon, she has worked up the courage to do it now. 

It’s like scoring a goal: receive the pass; dribble; gear up for it; shoot. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Her free hand reaches into her pocket. “Nada.” 

“No, you’re acting weird…” You blink a few times as if to adjust better to the dim light coming from the distant lampposts. A plop sounds from the water, and she jumps. She’s on edge.

“No.” 

“Yes. Jesus, you haven’t decided to break up with me in the middle of a park at night, have you?” Your question packs an unnerved insecurity, and she feels a little guilty about the suspense. She fiddles with the ring in her pocket, and then she takes a deep breath. “Hey,” you try tenderly. “Seriously, Ale, what’s wrong?” 

“Te lo dije. Nothing.” 

“So what’s in your pocket?”

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure?” 

She sighs, “here,” and she grabs your hand to press it into the soft warmth inside. And there’s a piece of metal, heated by her fingers. With a chunk of rock on top of it. It feels like an engagement ring. You’re probably not getting broken up with tonight. 

“Are you proposing?” 

“Are you saying yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Hòstia.” She frowns, and you consider pushing her into the lake. “I am going to say it now.”

“But you already—”

A quick display of her athleticism, for the muscles exist despite being buried underneath all those layers, and she is down on one knee. Her joggers will have wet patches, and she hates the squelch of the mud beneath her, but she has a perfect view of your surprise. Your tears. 

“Bueno. Your brother helped me to… write the speech,” she starts, and her rehearsal is adorable. Although, honestly, you don’t hear what she has to say because you have already made up your mind. 

You tell her yes in as many languages as you can. 

And she thanks you with breathy moans into your mouth as you guide her towards a bench, and then your flat, and finally your bed. 

When you are finished, well into the early hours of the morning she will have to leave, you climb out of bed, missing the firm grip of her toned arms the minute you’re out of it. There is a burning, overwhelming sureness inside of you that you can’t escape. You know it is soon – probably too soon for most – but there is a person out there for everyone, and yours is right in your bed. 

Your guitar, slightly dusty from the neglect because of your frequent visits to Barcelona, rumbles when you pluck it from its stand, collapsing into the armchair beside your bed with a groan, feeling the ache of your muscles that only affirm just how good a time you’ve had with your fiancée. 

You don’t play anything interesting, but the noise is enough to rouse Alexia from her heavy slumber. She lifts her head from where it has been buried within the silk pillows of your bed, and watches as your fingers pluck the nylon strings with vague allusion to one of your older songs. The weight of her ring – your engagement ring – does not seem to affect your playing: in fact, Alexia realises your hand was naked without it. You hum, fingers beginning to itch for a cigarette the minute the guitar starts to bore you, and she clears her throat. 

Her grin is self-satisfied and certain. “Me voy a casar contigo,” she says into the dark stillness of your bedroom.

“I love you,” you reply.

…

Being engaged is fun. 

Like, really fun. 

You stay in Barcelona in December, hiding from the bitter chill of England. No one questions it, and the absence of a manager grants you so much freedom. The girls pop to the city one weekend to brainstorm a song, but, other than that, you are content to forget your own identity and become Alexia’s fiancée, one of the regulars at the increasingly more popular Barça Femení games (only the team know you’re there, able to see through the caps and sunglasses). 

There are still rumours circulating about you and him, though their credibility has lessened ever since he revealed himself to have been in LA for a while. To the world, you’re sort of MIA. They catch you occasionally when you return to London for photoshoots or just to chat with your friends and family, but they get nothing more. Your Instagram posts are few and far between, and the most recent paparazzi picture is of you leaving Gio’s house to buy her a pregnancy test. 

When the test is positive, something is tweaked inside of you, and you return to Barcelona – a place that is now your home too – carrying a lead-ish guilt. 

Alexia loves her football, and Alexia is obsessed with her career. You are too, but you have done what you can, really. The BRIT nominees will be announced tomorrow, and you know that you and the girls are on that list. You have your fame, you have your money. But Alexia has neither, and she should. Especially when her male counterparts are raised high and mighty on large, golden platforms. 

You know just how ambitious she is, and that is why you lack surprise when you enter her flat to find her hunched over her iPad at the dining table, replaying the same twenty-second clip over and over until she has identified every single fault and created a plan to correct them. 

She barely registers your presence, but you don’t mind how absorbed she is in her footage. It is nice to make the ever-composed Alexia jump when you slink up behind her, pressing your lips against her neck. She dissolves herself in the fuzzy feeling you give her.

“Hola,” she says, regaining control when she spots another mistake, grasping her pen tightly as she scribbles down Spanish words you can’t be bothered to read. 

“Hola,” you reciprocate, though you are a lot more enthusiastic about it. “Tengo una pregunta.” 

“Oh no.” You wrap your arms around her shoulders, and she relaxes. Your ring reflects the light from her screen as if to remind her that you are hers, and that softens her previous sternness slightly. Another kiss to the skin behind her ear, and she is more open to talk. 

Clicking your tongue, you think of where to start. “Okay, first, I have news.”

“About Gio? Is she okay?” 

“She’s… pregnant.” The emergency you were recalled to London for was actually a pleasant surprise for her and her boyfriend. You’re unsure about how committed they are to each other, and whether a baby is a great idea, but you held your tongue when Anya shook her head at you. 

“Uf. Pobrecita, ¿no? She loves tequila.” 

“She does love tequila,” you agree with a chuckle. You extend your hand slightly and press pause on the footage. Alexia pushes back against you. Her chair scrapes against the wooden floorboards, but there is a gap between her and the table now. She motions for you to sit in her lap. 

She tilts your chin up and kisses you gently: a welcome home kiss. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor?”

“What would you do if I told you that I was pregnant tomorrow?” 

“I would ask you if you have been cheating on me with a man,” she replies instantly. You laugh, head falling forwards, resting on her shoulder. She runs her hands up your sides, fingers firm, thighs tensing underneath you. 

“But hypothetically. If it were possible,” you continue, a smirk working its way onto your lips, guilt forgotten. You may have spent your plane journey scrolling through pictures of Alexia with the various babies in your life. It was a self-indulgent act, and it has very much led you to now. 

Her eyebrows furrow with the adorable crinkle in between them, and she is seriously trying to work out if she is missing something. You go to London, you come back, you want a baby? 

But she loves you. And she is very intrigued. 

“Is it mine?” 

“Yes, it’s yours.” 

She watches the smirk on your face blossom into a smile, and she feels a matching one tug her lips upwards. “Is it going to support España or England?” The latter is pronounced in your accent, and you make a mental note to ask Jenni if she has been doing impressions of you to her teammates. 

“It can choose when it’s older,” you say, waving off her stupid football question. Since dating her, your interest in football has decreased. She has sort of put you off. You only really watch it to watch her now, or when United are playing an interesting game and your father is antsy enough to text you every minute. 

“No, it can’t.” You blink. She pulls you into her. “It chooses now. Spain or England, and Manchester United or Barcelona. There are right answers.” 

“Manches–”

“Wrong! I think I will have to make sure the baby is not brainwashed.” 

You panic for a moment. “Wait, you do know I’m not really pregnant, right?!” 

Alexia is not the most ready for children, but she is always prepared to give you everything you want. “If you want a baby, mi amor, let’s make a baby. Sin chicos.” You giggle coyly as she hoists you up – the display of strength exuding an unbearably sexy cockiness. “And after,” she says in between kisses as she stands, “we can look on the Internet for options.” 

“¡Vamos!”

…

The Barcelona women’s team congas its way back into the Home team changing room of the Joan Gamper, following a 7-0 win. Alexia kicked off the goal-laden game in the sixth minute, and she is on cloud nine. Victory is the sweetest taste in her mouth, and one where she knows you are watching is even better. 

Mapi flicks her shoulder as they dance to the music bursting from someone or other’s speaker. “You’re so happy,” she says, her grin wide and eyes shining. They dance topless, most of them, but Alexia has subtly been rushing to get dressed and find you. Barcelona is a beautiful city, and she has promised that you can take her to dinner somewhere now that your morning sickness has subsided and only started to affect you when it is supposed to. 

“We just won,” she explains over the shouts of joy from her teammates. 

María León joined from Atleti this season, but she has known Alexia longer than that, and she can tell when there is something more to football in her emotions. Though it is a well-kept secret, Alexia has two obsessions, and you are one of them. 

“Yo sé. But you have been very happy recently, in general. Except, you don’t come out for team nights or hang back to practise more after training, so it is definitely to do with Y/n.” Alexia’s absence in her teammates’ lives is actually unusual, seeing as you are very encouraging and a firm believer in the ‘work hard, play hard’ mentality. Your urging is what sends Alexia to bars and clubs with the girls, though she has neglected all of these outings ever since you showed her your positive pregnancy test (best belated birthday present ever). “So… what’s going on?” 

“You’re so nosy.” 

“I’m interested. I love her, and I want to know how she has made it so that you haven’t had a bad day for the last three months, even when we lost to Bilbao. Is it sex? Does she suffer through–”

“No!” Alexia interjects, cheeks reddening. Mapi smirks at the twenty-four-year-old, proud to have embarrassed her. She still claims that she is not a prude. Her phone buzzes on the bench – you’re asking how long she is going to take.

Mapi swipes Alexia’s clean clothes from her grip, holding them behind her back as she giggles at her friend’s exasperation. “Tell me, or go outside like that.” 

“Good thing it’s May,” Alexia shrugs, grabbing her phone and bag, knowing you won’t at all mind spending time with her in just her sports bra. She is pulled back by Mapi, who has hooked her finger into the waistband of Alexia’s shorts and yanked hard enough for them to have stretched. 

“Ale, tell me.” 

“No. You’re a gossip.” 

“I’m not a gossip.” 

“You so are.” 

“Am not.” 

“So it wasn’t you who told Leila about Patri’s crush when I made it clear that we weren’t even supposed to know?” Mapi shifts uncomfortably, letting go of the shorts. “And it definitely wasn’t you who let everyone find out about my engagement because you don’t know what an inside voice is?” 

“Hey, you never specified that you were going to be sneaky about it!” she defends, as she has done ever since the entire canteen went silent in shock and then, two seconds later, broke out into a clamour of pleas to be bridesmaids and to get Bad Bunny invited to the wedding. 

“It was implied,” Alexia shoots back with a glare. 

“Fine. Be annoying. I’ll just ask Y/n.” 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. She’s got better things to do.” 

“Ouch,” Leila says, patting Mapi on the back as she shoves her way into the conversation. The two are partners in crime, and Alexia hates that she is now outnumbered. “But tell us. Please, Ale.” 

“We’ll even not nutmeg you for a week.” They love to try. It’s their highest priority mission.

“A month,” Alexia negotiates. 

“Yes! Just tell us.” 

“Y/n is pregnant.” Three months down the line is not necessarily when she wants to announce her personal business to the entirety of Spain, but you both know that it’s safe to tell people now.

Mapi laughs. “Ay, Alexia, you don’t have to lie to us.”

She looks at her friends blankly, having not expected this reaction. When she told her mother, the woman at least had it in her to take it seriously (albeit with quite the cautious ‘are you sure?’). “I’m not lying,” she then says, more to Leila than the giggling Mapi in front of her.

“You’re not…?” Leila tries, grappling with it. Two pairs of eyes drift down to Alexia’s crotch, squinting at the material as though some previously concealed appendage is going to jump out at them.  

Alexia clears her throat. 

“I’m sorry. How?!” 

“The normal way most lesbians–”

“She’s, like, actually pregnant? Like, de verdad, she is pregnant?” 

“Or she’s smuggling a lime under her shirt.” Her nod is small and she has the glimmer of a smile on her face despite Leila and Mapi’s gobsmacked expressions. Her phone buzzes: it’s you again. “And, if you two don’t mind, I don’t want to leave her waiting for me outside.” 

“Because she’s…” 

“Exactly.” 

When she finally escapes the changing room, she climbs into her car. With heartbreak from both you and your dad, you have sold your i8 in favour of getting Alexia a Land Rover. Most of your money is in savings. You earn loads, but it is hard to find things you want to spend it on, and a lot of it goes towards private jets to get you to and from Alexia. 

You are sitting in the passenger seat. “Jugaste bien,” you say as her hand moves up from its instinctive resting place on your thigh, settling on the growing swell of your stomach. “I’m so hungry. I could eat a horse.” 

“A horse?” 

“Or a house. Or, I don’t know, an entire cavalry. Feed me.” Her alarm — a mistranslation — causes her to almost run over the steward directing her out of the car park. “Tengo mucha hambre, Ale.” She nods with a roll of her eyes. She’s been warned about pregnant women. 

…

In the bustling excitement of Estadi Johan Cruyff, which has slowly filled with more and more fans in the time you have known the plastic seats and improving pitch, you find yourself in the midst of an unexpected turn of events. With your due date approaching and Alexia’s insistence that you are surely made of glass, you have been forced to part from your sisters (Gio and Anya) and live in Barcelona. She wants the baby to be born here. You’ve negotiated that the next one will be had in London. 

Alexia’s mother notices the deep breath you take in, well-acquainted with the horror on your face having worn that same expression twice before. ¿Estás bien?” she asks you, the steadiness of her voice comforting to the flurry inside your head. 

The whistle blows and the game kicks off. This can’t be happening now. 

It’s too early. There’s a… What are they called? Braxton-hicks? 

“Sí,” you affirm with a curt nod. The not-contraction doesn’t hurt that much, you tell yourself. You settle in the seat and focus on the match in front of you, using the rhythm of the crowd’s cheers (it can now be called a crowd!) to keep you grounded. With a reassuring smile, Eli offers you her hand. You take it and try not to crush her metacarpals. 

It’s definitely possible that you are in actual labour, considering the increasing intensity of your contractions, but you are not about to leave the match. Alexia would notice your absence. This game is important for her team – it’s the last before the Christmas break. 

At halftime, Eli quietly reassesses you, tricking you into seeing the team’s medic when guiding you to the ‘toilet’. Already briefed on the situation, the medic asks you a few questions in accented English, much like that of your newly trilingual fiancée. “Don’t tell her,” you beg quietly through a huffed sigh, gladly taking the seat offered to you. “I’ll wait until it’s finished.” 

“There is another hour left.” 

Your ears burn and another contraction shoots through you. You shake your head, fending off the pain while you do so. “He can’t be a Barcelona fan,” you insist. Eli grins at the knowledge that her first grandchild will be a boy, but you do not see it, too focused on convincing the medic to keep the child’s other mother in the dark about what is currently happening in the Barcelona medical room. “I’ll wait.” 

Eli hands you your phone per your request. You call Gio, whose daughter is only two months old. “Don’t tell me,” she starts when you fail to greet her. The sound of her voice, her accent, her tone is relieving, though you are incredibly grateful for the woman who continues to hold your hand as though you are her own daughter. “Nah, nah. Where are you? I’m gonna jump on a flight, alright? I’ll call Anya and we’ll be there soon.” 

“Don’t… rush,” you groan. 

“Babe, we are going to rush. Where are you?!” 

“A match!” You try to remember the breathing exercises you learnt for this exact moment. “Her match. Second half’s only just started. She… She doesn’t know.” 

Gio’s loud, boisterous laugh rings out, and you can tell that she is not at home. No one with a newborn baby can afford to make noise at that volume. “Fucking hell. Ever heard of sense?” You don’t respond, embarrassed that you are in too much pain to think of a comeback. “I’ve left Mia at my mum’s, so don’t you worry. Want me to bring anything from home? Cadbury’s, maybe?” 

“One of those massive bars?” 

“Yep, done deal.” She pauses. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna ring Anya now, alright? Call your mum – or your dad, if you two haven’t yet made up. I’ll see you soon. Tell Alexia her baby’s on the way!” 

Your protests are cut off by the final beep of her hanging up, and your head drops back as another contraction, your body squeezed as though some giant rubber band has just snapped back into place. Eli stands up, worried now. 

Before you can tell her that you are alright, a gush of water hits the sterile floor with an unnerving splatter. The prospect of having to care for another life suddenly becomes very real. “Tenemos que ir al hospital.” 

“No.” 

“Soy la abuela. Yo sé que hacer.” Even the medic, who has nervously stayed by your side, much more experienced with ACLs than broken waters (and stubborn pregnant women), looks intimidated by the firmness of Eli’s words. “Por favor”: she softens her blow. 

You glance around the room, slowly descending into agony and helpless against the wrath of rationality from your fiancée’s mother. “How long’s left of the match? ¿Cuántos minutos quedan?” 

The medic holds up all ten fingers. You grapple with your body, begging the baby to sit tight for a moment. “Let her finish. We can go when the whistle blows.”

Your contractions get closer together. 

Eli’s frustration leads her to ask God for the baby to not have inherited your stubbornness. She also loves you more for it; admiring your insistence to keep Alexia from missing everything. 

You don’t call your own mother. You simply type out a shaky text to the family group chat; blunt and to the point. ‘Baby. Now.’

Half of your universe storms the web, booking flights to Barcelona. Anya and Gio are almost at the airport already — a few steps ahead of your panicking parents and your brother, who has been enjoying dinner at the Savoy with his clients. Those who serve as your planets, revolving around you like you are the sun, do you a favour, letting Dave know that you probably won’t make it to the Skype call scheduled for tomorrow morning. Dave, in turn, now expanding into management, informs your newly-hired publicist (good riddance to the old one). The world has expected a pregnancy announcement ever since you failed to appear at your most recent awards show, despite winning in your category. 

It's almost an eternity later that Alexia, football boots clacking against the floor, flings open the door of the medical room. Eli calls out, warning her daughter about slipping on the sizable puddle that has spread out beneath you. 

Your fiancée is valiant in her attempt to mask her sheer panic. 

“Have you called an ambulance?” she asks her mother, stepping over your amniotic fluid and placing her hand on your shoulder. You squint, trying to open your eyes though this contraction has been the most excruciating so far. 

“We were waiting for you. She was adamant that you finished your match.” 

“No football match is more important than her!” If you understood Catalan (and weren’t in labour), you’d have teased her for being a sap. “Call an ambulance, Jesus Christ. Look at her — she needs a doctor.” Her composure revisits her fleetingly, and she turns to the medic. “Thank you for looking after her.” There is no answer because it is drowned out by her barking more orders her mother’s way. 

“No ambulance,” you declare before your mouth opens in a silent sob. “Drive me. Not an ambulance.” 

The last glimpse the Estadi Johan Cruyff gets of Alexia Putellas in 2018 is her carrying you to her mother’s car, your face buried in her team-issued jacket in case anyone is waiting outside to take pictures of the players. 

Eli drives; something she doesn’t like doing often but feels is necessary with the nervous bounce of her daughter’s legs in the backseat enough to convince her that they’d speed like the Flash if anyone else ended up behind the wheel. She knows Barcelona, can navigate it with her eyes closed, and you are at the hospital before you can begin to tell Alexia how much you think you can’t do this. 

“I really fucking can’t do this!” you cry out, situated in the delivery room. Sweat rolls down the side of your face, already dampening your hair. Alexia thinks you look beautiful, and she has been made proud of the last two hours. You’ve also helped her a lot with English swearwords. 

“You can.” 

“I can’t.” You’re told to push again. “Alexia, you are having the… next… fucking… beach ball.” Each word is punctuated by a guttural moan. 

Waves of intense pain contort your face in agony, and the midwife continues to talk you through your task as though instructing you how to park a car. “Estás haciendo muy bien, mi amor,” she tells you, ignoring the possibility that you may have rendered her left hand boneless. 

“There’s a baby coming out of my vagina,” you shout, “don’t even try to test my Spanish, you twat.” 

The midwife shoots your fiancée a pitiful look. “She’ll take it back,” she says in Catalan. 

“She’s getting quite inventive.” 

“There’s been worse.”

You can imagine the conversation taking place in the middle of you delivering her literal child. “No, I won’t! It’s breaking me in half.” You grip her hand harder. “Never. Again.” 

But, with a final, visceral (and heavily encouraged) push, the room is filled with the sound of life. Nico comes into the world screaming at the top of his lungs. All Alexia can think to say is, “definitely yours.” 

…

Life is a lot more tiring trying to juggle being a mother and a pop star. 

The press have a field day when you announce the birth of your son with a simple Instagram post, your engagement ring second only to the swaddled lump on your chest. The caption (‘ours’) sparks debate on who exactly is the other parent. Well, father. Alexia’s teammates, while waiting to finally be allowed to meet your bundle, spend a good two months teasing her mercilessly about it. Most notably, Alexia almost loses La Reina to Papi. 

2019 comes with change — a lot of it. 

You hire a new manager so that Dave can focus fully on the last album 2sday will produce. The group has been together for six years, and you have made your millions.You seek neither money nor fame, but it comes knocking on the door of your quaint apartment in Barcelona anyway, along with a record deal only for you. A solo act.

Between Nico crying, Alexia playing football, and you trying to write songs that don’t end up criminally depressing, the contract on your dining table slowly becomes forgotten about. Alexia is too stressed about the impending World Cup to grant you a moment to breathe. You spend your days in Barcelona with a baby attached to your hip, the question of his parenthood still a mystery to the public, and, ever so slowly, you begin to resent your life. 

It could be postpartum depression, but you have no time to really investigate the symptoms. 

Alexia, two weeks before she needs to leave for her national camp and then the World Cup in France, comes home to an eerily silent apartment. 

She calls out your name, wondering if you have perhaps gone to her mother’s house. The terrible sinking feeling comes with your reply. “Can we talk?” you ask. 

She finds you perched on the Egyptian cotton sheets that cover your double bed. The sheets are out of place here, greatly exceeding the original budget of the decor, and, where Alexia sees this as you adding to her life, you feel you are somewhere you don’t belong. It is fine when she is next to you, holding your hand, claiming the other half of the now six-month-old baby boy gurgling in his carseat. When she isn’t there, though, the vacant space taunts you. 

“I have no friends here,” you tell her quietly. The gravity of the mood settling over you pulls her onto the mattress, not caring if the sheen of sweat she wears as her outermost layer of clothing dirties the expensive creamy white beneath her. “I have no friends, I don’t speak the language, and I think that I have played at being a normal person for long enough. I mean, it’s great to watch you and to be there for you, but, darling, that’s not who I am. This,” you gesture to the loungewear you have on, stained with dribble, “is not who I am.” 

Alexia hears what you are saying. She understands; she remembers the nights where you’d call her, a cigarette rasping your voice, sparkles shining in the valley between your breasts. She has seen this coming. It would be impossible not to notice the dimming of such a strong love between you: still present, yet slowly fading away. 

“They want me to sign a new deal. Alone.” The suitcases lined up in the corner of the bedroom become glaringly obvious. Nico is in his carseat for a reason. “I think it would be good for me to go back to London. I need to feel like myself again, and my parents are willing to watch him. I sold my flat – I’ve bought a house in Highgate.” Tears sting your eyes as you speak, and you know where Alexia’s shoulder is without having to look, resting your head against it. “I love you. I love you so much, but I just can’t do this anymore.” 

It’s as if the ground crumbles away beneath her. Your words hang above Alexia’s neck like an axe, waiting to execute her, waiting to end everything. She can’t look at Nico, whose face crumples at his mother’s clear heartbreak. 

The world, once vibrant, lays in ruins. Her funny story from training dies on her tongue, and her question of whether you wanted to visit her mother before she left for camp disintegrates, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“Do you still want to marry me?” she asks, and you hate the way her voice cracks with uncertainty. “Are you moving permanently?” 

“I haven’t called anything off. It’s still going ahead as planned.” She senses the but. “But I… I can’t think here. I can’t be here. I want – I need – to go home.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

She is going to be at the World Cup anyway. You and her will always find your way back to each other. She is going to be busy. 

She is going to be busy. 

She is going to be busy. 

“Yeah. It’s okay. Take all the time you need.” 

She is going to fall apart without you. 

[slytherinn-xo]

Swim Tryouts at 7:30- Danielle Van De Donk

Danielle Van De Donk X USWNT Player! Lyon Player! Reader

Synopsis: When Daan has football at 7:00 and swimming practice at 7:30, while at the world cup.

851 words

Being a US player that plays outside of the US is rare, like extremely rare, but being the only one to have never played in the NWSL, now that's rare. 

I was born in the USA, raised in Memphis Tennessee, but when I was 14, I moved away to Germany as that's my father's home country. When I spent the next three years before I started off my career in the German Women's top League.

I've played for four leagues, now, starting off my career in the German League with Bayern Munich in 2017 for just one season. Getting to play with the greats over there, learning so much from Frido, Sara Dabritz, Jill Roord, Leupolz, and Leah Galton.

Before I signed with Arsenal in 2018, for the next three seasons, until 2021. Where we won the WSL title once, in my first season.

Which was where I met Daan, I fell in love to say the least. But she was already in love, with Beth Mead, so I watched on from the side lines, like I was waiting to be subbed on now.

But she was my best friend, it was her, me, Viv and Jill when she finally came and joined us. The Dutchies and the American.

But they were my family.  

And then I moved to play for Barcelona for just one season after they won the Champions League in 2021 til 2022. Before I moved, and I got the chance to be with the girl I was in love with. 

Daan. 

So I joined in 2022, which was where we reconnected, and to say we both fell in love was the truth. We've been dating now for 10 months, and we do hide it, but we don't at the same time. 

We're private people but not a secret.

So facing here now in the group stages of the Women's World Cup, it was hard. 

But with less than 3 minutes to go of extra time was on the clock, and I turned back after the whistle was blown. 

I just saw an orange shirt on the floor. "Who is it?" I asked Lindsay, my Lyon teammate, as I couldn't read from that far away. Well that and I'm dyslexic and can barely read myself.  

"Daan." She muttered before I ran over to my girlfriend. I couldn't hide all of this, I was scared, my girlfriend is on the floor not bloody well moving. 

"Schatje." I told Daan standing by her as she was led on the floor not moving, crouching by her as I had my hand on her shoulder. 

"Poepie." Daan muttered back to me. 

"Not that name." I told her with a smile, that was one good sign she could still understand me and knew who we were around her. 

When the Dutch medics made their way over to Daan you saw the first showings of blood slowly coming out of her hair, but you had no idea how much there would be under there. 

I wasn't given a choice but to move away from her as the Dutch staff moved me out of their way, pushing me back away from my girlfriend. 

"No, stay!" Daan told me as she locked eyes with me, trying to reach her hands out to grasp onto me. 

"I'm right here." I told her as I kept eyes with her. 

I watched as they placed some gauze over her wound, before just placing a swimming cap over it. 

I laughed at her. 

"Not a word!" Daan told me, pointing that finger at me, wagging it at my face. 

"You look like you've got swimming practice in half an hour." I told her with a smile. 

"Oh shut up." Daan told me as she stood up. 

"Make me!" I told her walking away from her backwards as she was escorted of the pitch before she could return to play. 

~~

"Are you two doing okay, it looked rough on the pitch?" The interviewer switched to English seeing me walk up to Daan, and I stood a bit behind my small gal. 

"The best players are always the most competitive." I told the interviewer as I interrupted Daan's interview. 

"Best friends?" The interviewer asked us both, as my arm was around Daan's shoulders but Daan's was holding onto my waist. 

"The best." Daan answered like clockwork for us, squeezing my waist twice, doing our code, for when we wish we could say our feelings. 

"Go get that checked out properly." I told Daan raising one eyebrow up at her, as she nodded, looking deep into my eyes. 

"I will, ik houd van je." Daan told me, trying to politely kick me out of the interview. 

"Ik houd van je." I told her back quickly kissing her before walking off to Lindsay who was gasping at my actions, before I froze. 

"You didn't mean to do that?" Daan asked me. 

"No I didn't!" I said shaking my head, before running back to kiss Daan one last time before running away back to Lindsay as we were both bright red in the face now. 

[celaenaeiln]

whatre ur thoughts on superbat !!!

I like them! I don't actively ship Bruce with anyone but I so passively ship him with people and Clark pushes the passivity.

I don't like Batcat or Brutalia but I can go with superbat

Sometimes it feels like Superbat is the ship DC secretly wants us to ship them together.

I swear it feels like Bruce and Clark are having a parental argument and we just asked a question to which Bruce and Clark are like "what?" and the rest of the Justice League is glaring at us as if to say shut up don't you dare interfere.

Also the way Clark holds Bruce and talks to him

Dark Nights: Metal Issue #2

...is this supposed to be brotherly?

In the Superman: Up in the sky comic where Supes has to go find that kid, the other heroes are fighting an alien invasion they lose against. But the heroes he displays are only heroes that Superman loves the most or is closet to. There's 5 and guess who's the main panel:

Superman: Up in the Sky Issue #6

The other four are:

Superman: Up in the Sky Issue #6

Also the world's finest comics are all Dick, Clark, and Bruce going on adventures together. Dick is like the love child between Clark and Bruce. He has all of Bruce's intelligence, tactical abilities, and fighting skills, and he has all of Clark's charisma, warm-heartenedness, and good standing. He literally the mix of the two of them.

They're already a family. I think there are way bigger reasons to ship superbat than there are for batcat or brutalia. I still love Clois though but if you wanted a canon reason for why they should exist, well, DC is offering them up on a silver platter. Besides they have like three entire comics titled Superman/Batman.

The super-sons comic!

If Dick is their blood son then Jon and Dami are shared custody.

Super-sons (2017) Issue #5

They're kinda more like brothers here but still. Even if you don't ship them together, you still have to admit they care deeply about the other. Their banter's funny.

Also can't forget this

Superman/Batman Annual #1

DC literally went "...and there was only one bed."

[olivette-branch]

Oh baby, is it time.

normally this is where you'd expect to see @yamball and her magnificent primers.

Alas, it is but me and my attempt to let the world know about the puck-slinging, hit-throwing, scared of haunted houses, pale as a vampire forward that has captured our hearts:

Tye Kartye

photo credits: steph chambers

*disclaimer: all of this information is googleable & found across various interviews from Tye, his parents and other information surrounding him & games he has been in! If you want a link to a specific article, please feel free to ask! Also, feel free to send this to others, but keep the primer on tumblr & don't crosspost to other platforms :) keeping fourth walls intact is very important to me.

Childhood

Tye Kartye was born to Richelle & Todd Kartye on April 20, 2001.

His mom is a clinical nurse educator & his father is a chemistry teacher in Kingston.

Tye also has a younger sister, Talya, who is two years younger. They were both also incredibly athletic kids. Tye played soccer and hockey, plus touch football while Talya played basketball and volleyball.

This boy is also so hardworking. Well-known by the nickname, "No Quit" Kartye, he is constantly lauded by numerous past coaches as incredibly hard-working, and focused. To quote his dad, he knew from his childhood that, "he wanted and was going to be in the NHL."

included also, since there are very few photos of Karts as a kiddo: here are some of his Prezi's. Note from topics like stick flex to environmental effects, he is so dedicated and focused in his details. Truly a teachers' son

Stick Flex Prezi

Environmental Effects Prezi

Tough Road Ahead

Of course, Tye's path hasn't been easy to where he is and it starts pretty young.

He took the more traditional route, played in house leagues before going up into high school hockey and then AA & AAA.

Of course, then comes time for the OHL draft. Karts isn't drafted in the first round, nor the second round, not even the third.

Tye is drafted by the Soo Greyhounds in 2017 in the eighth round. Not only is he selected dead in the middle, but he also was cut his first training camp. Instead, he went back to midget AAA and worked his ass off.

In fact, his former coach John Dean, who was named HC of the Greyhounds in 2018-2019 had heard about the skinny kid told to get bigger/stronger in his exit meeting. He came in that year, and said about Karts that "Here comes this moose of a man, who clearly took direction very literally and took it to heart."

Karts took his time in the OHL, and spent a good bit of it working to improve. As it came closer to draft time, he bumped up his work to a more physical level. This was supposed to help his game, but also his potential for the draft. Keep this in mind.

Karts was first eligible for the 2019 draft. He was not selected. Now, he'll mention that he didn't feel he was ready at all at the time.

But! He does partake in the 2019 Development Camp for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

So, Karts plays another year and, is eligible for the 2020 draft.

He isn't selected again. In fact, routinely his scouting reports talk about his skating ability, or lack thereof. Even for a larger player for his age (6'0 and 175+), his skating was seemingly enough of a deterent. He was disappointed, especially after a good season.

Then 2020-21 hits and the OHL season is cancelled. Tye keeps practicing.

photo credits: this blog post about tye

The Undrafted Kid

2021 comes, and the Kraken need bodies for their first development camp. They've got draft picks (Matty Beniers, Ryker Evans, Ryan Winterton to name a few) but they've gotta invite a few more for the incoming guys to spend time with.

Mike Dawson, a scout for the Kraken, started doing his homework. He noted how weird it was this kid hadn't been picked, mentioned it might be because he's a later bloomer.

He gets an invite to the 2021 Development Camp, and while he doesn't get a contract the Kraken now know his name.

He begins to push in his 2021-22 season with the Greyhounds. Not only did he recieve an A, he also scored over 100 career points with them, but also ended the year 4th overall in league scoring, and led the league in PPGs and GWGs as well as ended the season with 79 points (and 57 PIMs, he's been a bit of yapper his whole life).

So March 2022 hits, and the Kraken finally bite. Tye gets an ELC, and he's ready to work.

Also additionally, Ron Francis is an ICON for Tye, who is a Soo Greyhounds alum. The Rink in the Soo is literally on Ron Francis Way.

CVF + Hard Work makes the Dream Work

Tye comes into the new CVF team for the 22-23 season. He attended Kraken training camp, but let's be real. Tye needed more time to prepare.

Karts comes in, and is ready to show off what he can do. He also is trading cold, Canadian weather for the hot Valley and grabbing his golf clubs.

Note of importance: he becomes really good friends with Ryker Evans & Luke Henman.

He starts as a fourth-liner. And, he struggles. He has little ice time, as well as few opportunities.

But, he gets better. And better, and better and better. Soon, he's one of the Firebird's top 6 forwards, and he's skyrocketing towards being a potential call up.

Although it comes later, by the end of the 22-23 Firebirds season (off of a devastating Game 7 loss to the Hershey Bears), Tye is awarded the Dudley "Red" Garrett Memorial Award for AHL Rookie of the year and is also placed on the AHL Rookie All-Star Team. He led all rookies in points, and appeared in every game for the Firebirds that season.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves, because Tye's breakout moments in the AHL don't just end there. They lead to the real deal.

photo credits: Firebirds Media

The Call Up & Goal Heard Round Colorado

So come April, Tye gets recalled to the Kraken who are going on a completely unprecedented and expected playoff run. Not only is it a little unexpected (he's a rookie coming up from his first year in the AHL instead of a vet, and he's having to replace the Jared McCann).

But, Tye gets it because of what has always been the case. He's a hardworker, a grinder and he will make others notice him through it.

So, he comes in for Game 5 of the First Round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs versus the Colorado Avalanche. He finds out that morning he's playing, and sends a single word text to his mom, just saying "playing" at 12:00 PM EST.

His parents begin their journey to Denver, arriving just a few minutes into the first period.

The first period stays scoreless, and the second begins. Geekie scores, before a response by Nathan MacKinnon.

Then a few moments later, Nate MacKinnon trips and is laying on the ground. The crowd is roaring for a call, and Eberle is skating the puck up and around Colorado goal. A quick shot down and a one-timer from Karts nails the puck in the back of the net past the Avs goalie.

Let me say, even for those as a fan of the Avs, the look on NateMac's face when this happens is unbelievable. He's in shock, completely. And meanwhile, Tye is having a fantastic time grinning and celebrating what only 7 other players have done, scoring their first goals in the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

Also, let it be noted that Karts gets back to the locker room after the game. Pure joy from his goal, and what is the first thing he does? Check his phone to see the Firebirds game and how they did.

Not only was that his first instinct, he also was almost more excited about the potential to be back down with the Firebirds. He loves following his dream, but god did he love the Firebirds and family he built there.

Of course, the Kraken’s road to the Stanley Cup is ended in Game 7 of the Second Round vs. the Stars. But! In this time, Kartye has stayed up and even in the place of Jared McCann in some spots.

And then he goes back down to CV for the harrowing journey that was their 22-23 Calder Cup Playoff Run.

photos credit: Steph Chambers & Icon Photography

The Summer After & Rookie Experiences

Of course, Tye became one to watch in the lead up to the 23-24 season.

During which included a delightful video with bestie Ryker Evans and Matt Tennyson, on Episode 7 of Tenny Talks.

I'm simply going to link to the video, because it is insanely funny and it also shows off Tye's personality so well.

So, the summer ends and Tye ends up with the Kraken for 23-24 season.

I could probably spend hours discussing this season, but for our key highlights we're gonna focus on just a few things.

Throwback to our note of importance: anytime Ryker gets called up, he stays in a hotel. Not only does he end up knowing the car valet by name, any time he does almost anything, it is with Tye & Joey. He literally went over to Tye’s to do laundry while Tye’s girlfriend cooked them dinner. Besties for real.

First and foremost, Tye doesn't get a ton of chances. First rookie up (really the only rookie during the season for the Kraken minus other call ups), he gets scratched first a decent amount of times, especially prior to December. But! He keeps working hard, and by the end of the season he has well cemented his place as a fourth liner (who can def move up the line up if needed to).

Second, he really starts to gain a lot of perspective & skills from Yanni Gourde. Note, not only did he dress up as the Easter Bunny in 2024 for the Kraken's kiddos (like Matty did in 2023), but he also really focuses on the aspects of his game that he can improve and make stronger. So what does he do?

He gets into a few scrums (which early on he loses badly), and becomes known as a player who will fight for his teammates. (key fights include: him absolutely lighting up Pospisil after the first period hit on Adam in the Kraken v. Calgary game on March 3).

He also starts to up his physicality. And when I say up, I mean up. Tye ended the 23-24 season with 229 hits, placing him 19th in the entire league.

And of my favorite: Tye is a Grade A yapper. Like literally, this man will yap whenever he needs to. And one of the most iconic times might I add is against Connor McDavid, who Karts almost succeeds to into scrapping with. Known non-fighter Connor McDavid. (Note: this occurred after McDavid checked Ryker Evans, these firebirds turned squids don't play about each other).

photo credits: steph chambers (i believe, but if not, please correct me!)

gifs from: @starshipoftheseus

This Season and Beyond

So where does that leave Tye now? Well, if you tune in to almost any Kraken game, you're sure to see him on the fourth line (likely with Yanni Gourde & Brandon Tanev).

He’s likely to be spotted hanging out with fellow former firebirds Joey Daccord, Shane Wright, and Ryker Evans. They all went to the Halloween party in a group costume and are frequent dinner buddies, with Joey finding gluten-free restaurants for himself and Ryker.

There's also some interest bubbling up, especially because as of posting this, the Kraken re-acquired Daniel Sprong. What does that mean? Well, due to lots of cap things & money stuff, the Kraken essentially with every player healthy can only carry a 20-man roster. This means either someone has to be traded, or you've gotta send the 13th forward down to the AHL. While Karts hasn't been rumored in any trades (and frankly his contract isn't big enough trade value-wise to really help), there is still the possibility he could go on waivers and be sent back down to CV if not performing. So this is definitely a step-up time while the Kraken wait for Vince Dunn to get off of LTIR (which we saw on the 11/12 game against CBJ, where Karts scored the first goal in the second period and his second of the year).

[lowerach]

xenon. skt t1 & faker making worlds history.

We'll remain the world's best team until the end of League of Legends. - Bang, 2017 Worlds Championship Semifinals Teaser

T1 is the past, the present, and the future. - Faker, 2024 Worlds Championship Semifinals Teaser

a list, in no particular order, of some records that they hold:

Most Wins (Individual)

Most Wins (Organization)

Back-to-Back Worlds Wins (2x Same Org, 1x Same Roster)

Oldest Worlds Winner

Youngest Worlds Midlane Winner

Most Worlds Appearances (Player)

First to 500 Kills (Most Kills)

First to 100 Wins (Most Wins)

the lolelements series / @enarratives

[hunterrrs]

Evgeni Malkin said he's always felt slightly overlooked.

One of the premier centers of his generation, the 37-year-old has played his NHL career as the second center on the Pittsburgh Penguins behind longtime teammate Sidney Crosby. He was the No. 2 pick in the 2004 NHL Draft. Alex Ovechkin, possibly the only Russia-born player more statistically accomplished, went No. 1 to the Washington Capitals.

Malkin doesn't mind. Actually, it's just the way he likes it.

"I'm not the kind of guy that wants media around me. I like to be quiet a little bit," Malkin said. "I want to just play the game. Probably, people want, like, my private life a little bit more. But I'm, like, a little bit closed.

"Maybe my English is not good before, not talk too much with media. Again, this is kind of myself. I'm OK with that because I know I'm a good player."

Numbers do talk, though. In his 18th season, Malkin is third in Penguins history with 1,261 points, 485 goals and 776 assists, trailing Mario Lemieux (1,723 points; 690 goals, 1,033 assists) and Crosby (1,540 points; 571 goals, 969 assists).

Ovechkin reached out after Malkin eclipsed Fedorov.

"He's a star in the League," Ovechkin said. "I think he's a tremendous player. He knows how to win. He knows how to play. It's not a surprise he has so many points, so many goals and assists."

"People are talking about Ovi a lot. They talk about (Connor) McDavid. They talk about (Nathan) MacKinnon," Letang said. "You don't hear Geno's name a lot. What he's been able to do in this league for that long and at this age still, being the goal scorer that he is, it's just special.

"I think it's always been (that way), except maybe the year he won the Hart and everything. I think it's always been a little bit like that. He's not seen to his true color."

Without Malkin, Crosby said his NHL career would have been more difficult. That pair, along with Letang, has won the Stanley Cup three times (2009, 2016, 2017). They qualified for the Stanley Cup Playoffs in 16 consecutive seasons together before missing them last season.

"There are nights where you don't feel great or have your best," Crosby said. "You're watching Geno do his thing out there. That's happened a lot. I think we've pushed each other over the years, but he's a guy that has always stepped up when he needs to. I think that's just the competitive nature in him.

"I think the consistency is the biggest thing. You don't have that kind of consistency without being as competitive as he is. He's been amazing for a lot of years. The stats show it."

"I think the biggest thing for me that I admire about Geno is how competitive he is," Penguins coach Mike Sullivan said. "Just his competitive spirit is off the charts. His will to win, his want to win, and his will and want to score and produce offense. I don't think anyone likes scoring goals more than 'G.' You can see it in his raw emotion when he scores.

"Sometimes, I don't think Geno gets the credit that he deserves in the hockey world for the body of work that he's put together in this league and how talented he is. He's without a doubt one of the greatest players of all-time."

love a good geno lovefest

[mydaddywiki]

Joe West

Physique: Husky Build Height: 6′1″

Joseph Henry West (born October 31, 1952), nicknamed "Cowboy Joe" or "Country Joe", is an American former baseball umpire. He worked in Major League Baseball (MLB) from 1976 to 2021, umpiring an MLB-record 43 seasons and 5,460 games. He served as crew chief for the 2005 World Series and officiated in the 2009 World Baseball Classic. On May 25, 2021, West broke Bill Klem's all-time record by umpiring his 5,376th game.

He’s the most polarizing man on the Hall of Fame ballot. Fans have been screaming at him for 44 years, managers and players cursing him, and he has a personality bigger than virtually every player who steps onto the field. All I have to say about this this guy is… DAT ASS.

Born in Asheville, North Carolina, he grew up in Greenville and played football at East Carolina University (ECU) and Elon College. West entered the National League (NL) as an umpire in 1976; he joined the NL staff full-time in 1978.

West has been married twice. After the death of his first wife, West remarried.

Career Highlights and Awards Special Assignments All-Star Game (1987, 2005, 2017) Wild Card Game (2013, 2014, 2020, 2021) Division Series (1995, 2002, 2005, 2008, 2009, 2011, 2012, 2016) League Championship Series (1981, 1986, 1988, 1993, 1996, 2003, 2004, 2013, 2014, 2018) World Series (1992, 1997, 2005, 2009, 2012, 2016) World Baseball Classic (2009) MLB record 43 seasons umpired MLB record 5,460 games umpired