cheer is more than a sport

the zodiac signs in gryffindor

aries: will definitely catapult your a s s to uranus if you’re in their way

taurus: looks lazy af but will work hard day and night if they need to get something done till the next day

gemini: makes awful jokes and quotes memes irl, everyone including their friends wonder why they don’t get beat up on a daily basis

cancer: a bit shy and reserved but would fight a grizzly bear if their loved ones are being threatened

leo: the ultimate gryffindor™, wears sports hoodies even though they don’t particularly like that sports just bc aesthetics

virgo: saltier and more dead inside than the dead sea, will sass someone out in front of a cheering crowd when they have a bad day

libra: sweet and kind and doesn’t consider themselves very strong or heroic but is actually really brave

scorpio: looks all tough and cool but there’s an 80% chance they’ll cry if you tell them a kinda sad story

sagittarius: has so many talents and is instantly good at almost everything new they try it’s just ridiculous

capricorn: impossible to bring down to their knees and never seems to be tired, probably isn’t even human

aquarius: would 10/10 do something really reckless and dangerous/horrendously stupid just to surprise people, makes bad puns

pisces: small but not weak at all, argues with you for two hours if you say something they do not agree with

i know i’ve already made more than enough posts about how gay bars, while not perfect or a cure-all, are not the caricatures you see on tv and have their own unique atmospheres and entertainment and are even different on different nights but like, i used to go to a gay sports bar that had weekly screenings of glee back when it was new, and everyone would cheer when kurt and blaine kissed (which sounds like tumblr.txt now but was pretty normal in 2011). i’ve been to a cowboy-themed gay bar where you can bring in any outside food you want plus they have frito pie and the bartenders line dance on the bar. and last month i was at a gay piano bar that was mostly over-50 men in suits eating birthday cake and enjoying the stylings of 70-year-old cabaret singers. these are colorful examples but they’re all real, and i haven’t even been to all that many gay bars. who knows, there might be a gay bar that would be a haven for you, but you won’t find out if you’ve decided you know what they’re all like in advance.

Game day


Request
: i. need. s ome sports supportive reader x archie. like wearing jersey to school on game day, wearing his jacket, cheering him on from the sideline. yelling at his coach when he yells at archie. just owningit. being cute. being supportive.

A/N: this is cute and smol

See more of my work here

Word count: 648 words

Warnings: cursing i think

Originally posted by riverdales-daily

“That’s my jersey.”  You turned, a wide smile on your face as your eyes met Archie’s.  

“Yeah!” He smiled right back.  

“You look better in it than I do…” He teased, hands coming down on your shoulders.  

“You said it.”  You turned back to your locker, blowing your hair out of your face.  

He leaned over to your ear. “You coming to my game tonight?”

“Am I coming to your game tonight?” You asked mockingly.  “Of course I’m going to your game tonight.”

“Can you not yell at Coach this time?”

“Listen you made a great pass, and he had no right to yell at you for that,” you defended yourself.  “It’s not your fault he couldn’t run it.”  Closing your locker, your brow crinkled in anger.  Archie laughed.  “I’m still pressed.”

He swung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his side as you two walked next to each other down the hall towards your class.  Grinning, Archie replied, “I know you are, babe.”


The game was typical.  The Bulldogs were crushing, and you’d like to think it was solely because of your beautiful boyfriend. You’d catch his eyes every once in awhile from the sidelines, smiling widely to show support.  “Go, Arch!” You’d yell whenever he had the ball, always finding his small grin under his helmet.  

“Hey!” You turned, narrowing your eyes at Coach Clayton.  “L/N, I’d tell you to get out, but you really help him play better.  So, I’ll just ask you,” he leaned in close to your ear.  “To stop!  Screaming!  In my ear!”  

Eyes wide with surprise, you coughed slightly.  “Strong lungs you got there.”

“See you two are getting along better today,” Jughead commented sarcastically over the fence.  Raising a bright blue jacket, he pushed it over towards you.  With it’s blue and gold color scheme, bold R on the breast, you knew exactly what it was. “Archie told me to go and grab it from his house for you.  Said it would be cold.” You reached forward to grab it from him, tugging it over his shoulders.  “Look at you two.  So eighties coming of age movie.”  

Out of nowhere, the crowd suddenly roared in disgruntled, surprised noises.  They resembled a crowd booing, but less angry, more concerned.  The three of you had been distracted from the field for a moment, however you didn’t have to see the field to know that something had happened.  

You turned, seeing the ref angrily blowing his whistle.  You noticed the letters on the scoreboard change.  34-31.  While the Bulldogs were still winning, it was the fourth quarter, and this score was too tight for comfort.

“Time!” Clayton called angrily, waving his arms in the air and pulling the team into a huddle.  You leaned against the fence next to Jughead.  

“You think it’s because you weren’t watching him for two seconds?” He joked, elbow nudging your padded shoulder.

“I mean you’re kidding but… It means a lot to him.” You frowned.

Jughead sighed.  “Never thought I’d be friends with a quarterback.”

“Never thought I’d wear a letterman’s jacket.  Yet here we are.”  Archie’s eyes lifted from the heads of his teammates to meet yours.  “For that goofball.”

“One second, Coach,” he murmured, taking steps over to you.

“Hey, baby,” you said softly, “You alright?”

“Yeah, just stressed,” he sighed.  

“You guys got this,” you assured him.  “You need anything?”

“Just you, here,” he answered softly.  “I like the jacket.”

“It’s warm,” you nodded.  He smiled, pulling on the thick fabric to bring your lips to his.  You pulled back, scrunching up your nose.  “You stink.”

Archie lightly punched your shoulder.  “Hey.”

“Hey, you know what.  You go out there, you kick ass?  I’ll cuddle you tonight regardless of whether or not you shower.” You leaned forward, kissing him one last time, before lightly pushing his chest.  “Go kick some ass.”

Originally posted by ms-its-been-real

Originally posted by deryhana

Requested by the Anon whose request didn’t show up in my askbox. I’m really sorry that some of your requests aren’t showing, but I’m pretty sure they’re there, the counter shows way more messages than the displayed ones.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and thanks for the request (:

“Why does it have to be me accompanying you? Couldn’t you have picked someone else?” Stiles whined while you held his upper arm with excitement for tonight’s basketball game.

“Oh, shush!” You squeezed his upper arm slightly, your eyes looking up at him with a scowl. “Just because you love lacrosse doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy other sports too. Besides, we’re here to cheer for Derek. It’s been tough for him lately, and basketball seems to make him feel better.” You finally entered the gym, spotting the rest of the pack with two saved stands for you and Stiles. “Oh, and I did invite the rest of the pack.”

You greeted your friends when you sat in your seat and looked at the time on your phone, the game should start in a couple of minutes. Derek was with his team on the court, giving you a small smile that made your hear flutter and your cheeks become rosy. You turned to Stiles and sighed nervously. “I know I said we’re here for Der, but I have no idea how basketball works.”

Stiles stared at you blankly for a moment, before raising his right eyebrow and lowering just as quickly. “Okay, it’s quite simple: you take the ball and try to make a basket.” Your forehead wrinkled at his words, but then he explained it better. “The game begins with one player from either team at center court. A referee will toss the ball up between the two. The player that gets his hands on the ball will tip it to a teammate. This is called a tip-off.”

Derek was preparing with his team to start the game and stood at center court, ready to tip-off, but his gaze turned to you talking with Stiles. You were feeling hot with your jacket on and you hair down, so you removed it while Stiles was still explaining the rules of the game, Derek’s cheeks heating up as he saw you wearing a tight tank top.

“Focus, Hale!” Yelled his coach when he noticed his best player being distracted.

“Okay, so Derek is a center.” You said while pulling back your hair and tying it tightly in a high ponytail, feeling relieved that fresh air was cooling the skin around your neck.

“What the hell, Hale?!” The coach yelled again, angrily, when Derek didn’t tip-off the ball first.

The way your fingers were combing through your locks, pulling up loose strands and the ponytail swaying to the sides… These simple movement gave Derek goosebumps, his eyes entirely captivated by you, making him feel as if everything around him was in slow-motion, but it wasn’t, and he snapped out of his trance when he head his coach whistle at him, shouting for him to start playing instead of slacking off on the court.

Scott smirked and turned to you. “Guess, you make him nervous.”

“What- What do you mean?” You questioned, only to turn your head to Derek and him quickly moving to play the game, but his eyes would find you from time to time.

His team would win this game, and Derek was going to win for you.


[GIFs not mine]

Dating Niall would include

- baking cupcakes in the middle of the night.

- him making you wear his sweaters when you get a cold

-lots and lots of cuddling

- rough and sweaty post-concert sex

- “Y'have to be quiet darlin’, I don’t want Harry catchin’ us again.”

- him dragging you to all his sports events

- You having to cheer him up after his team lost and he’s acting like a pouty four year-old toddler

- “Niall did you purposely cut holes in your jeans?”

- “Niall where the fuck is the pie I bought this morning?”

- “Niall get off of me, we have to get up.” “Nuh uh. Don’t wanna.” “Niaalll.”

- him making dinner and it’s good but the kitchen’s a mess

- “Sometimes I think you love Harry more than me.” “You got me.”

- rough and sweaty post-golf sex

- that goddamn stupid ugly hat

- him being overprotective at clubs and crowded places

- him tackling you out of no where and tickling you

- him trying really hard to braid your hair

- “My eyes are drowning in an ocean of you.” “You’re such a loser, you know that?”

- him trying and failing to teach you guitar.

- his thick ass fingers

- tracing the veins on his arms while you both watch tv

- sloppy kisses

The Best Summer 2016 Anime For People Who Love Pretty Boys and Gay Subtext


We’re now a few weeks into the Summer 2016 anime season, and by this point it is no secret that a larger than usual number of shows airing this season are adapted from shoujo manga or are otherwise aimed at a female audience, be they otome or fujoshi shows. This  means, without putting it in terms that imply these shows have appeal for just one gender, we have a lot of shows this season with good-looking guys that we can easily imagine being really gay with each other. After watching all the shows in that might fit this description, here are the three that I feel are most worth watching.

Keep reading

Ra Ra Ja Ja | M&L |

Being a cheerleader for the NBA was more than just waving around some pompoms and shaking your tail feathers. You had to learn intricate choreography and be in the best physical shape of your life. On top of that there were events and media and international travel … photo-shoots and sponsorships. Game nights were always her favorite though. Leah was a sports fanatic and being able to watch the game while she worked was always a big bonus. Though tonight, during breaks between cheers, another sight was capturing her attention. Fourth row, second seat from the isle – there was a man who was extremely handsome. So handsome infact that it made her giggle when she made eye contact with him – and every moment after that, she smiled when he looked at her, too. Even during her half-time routine … she was gazing at him when she could, still smiling – scrunching up her nose a bit when he finally smiled back. The game ended with Orlando picking up the win and after all the cheerleaders, herself included, did four routines in the middle of the court with the basketball players, they started to split in to small groups and help with media, posing for photographs and with some of the players. Leah, on the other hand, drifted over to the sideline a bit, her hazel eyes searching the stands to see that … her mystery man’s chair … was empty. 
@lasxmbra

Just Kiss Me, You Idiot

My fingers are tingling from all of the emotions that are running through me. Although I’m terrible at sports, I love watching them, especially when it comes to lacrosse. My best friends, Scott and Stiles, have been on the team since our freshman year so I’ve always come to the games to cheer them on. Now I come to support them as well as Kira and Liam, who are two new friends of mine as well as new members of the pack. I love lacrosse and I always get super excited when I watch my friends play. Tonight, however, I’m full of more than just excitement.

Games against Devenford Prep are always vigorous, but tonight might just be the absolute worst. This is the first time Liam will be playing against his old school and old teammates. I know Liam is very anxious and fearful, even though he’s put on a tough persona. That’s why I’m on edge. Liam is more than just a friend; he’s basically my little brother. I’ve helped him through all of his full moons, introduced him to the supernatural stuff, and assimilated him into the pack. The pack jokes about how Liam and I are the siblings we never had. For that reason, I took matters into my own hands this morning. I did my best to ensure that his old teammates will not hurt him.

Because Brett, the star lacrosse player for the rival school, and I have been friends since before we could walk, I talked with him. I told him that he and his teammates need to take it easy tonight. Well, I demanded that he cut Liam a break and not hurt him. Brett knows how protective I am over the pack, especially Liam. Usually, he’s very understanding and supportive of that; he’s even been trying to get to know them all better. However, I know what Brett is like when there’s a competition. He doesn’t mean it, but he gets incredibly competitive.

Liam has progressed some since he was bitten, but he’s still struggling a lot with staying in control. Having I.E.D. doesn’t help, but he’s making progress. He knows what he did to his old coach’s car was wrong; he’s been working so hard to manage his anger and he’s doing so well. Despite that, Liam may not show it often, but he’s confided in me his struggles and worries. He’s my little brother, and that’s how I’ll always picture him. For that reason, I warned Brett that he and his teammates need to leave him alone. That they don’t need to take out their frustration on a freshman who’s doing everything in his power to improve. They can play a fair and tough game without harming Liam. Brett promised me that he would be careful and warn his teammates to do the same.

Yet here I am.

Here I am being forced to watch Brett, a childhood best friend, pick on my newly found little brother. For the past twenty-five minutes, I’ve watched Brett go out of his way to put Liam into his path so that he can run into him and push him around. My heart is beating erratically with fury. It’s almost as if I can feel my blood bubbling with rage throughout my body. From the field, Scott eyes me for the countless time, offering me what is supposed to be a comforting gaze. But it doesn’t help.

“Y/N,” Mr. Stilinski mutters. I turn to face him so he continues, “I might not have any supernatural abilities, but I don’t have to in order to smell the anger fuming off of you right now. Calm down, kiddo. Everything’s going to be okay.”

I simply nod and prop my elbows on my knees, resting my chin in my hands. Devenford Prep has the ball again, and they’re making their way down the field towards the goal. Just when it appears that things might start looking up for Beacon Hills, that hope is shattered. Brett runs into Liam with a force I’ve never seen from Brett before; Liam is knocked off his feet, colliding forcefully with the field.

“Dammit, Brett!” I hiss under my breath.

I stand up and throw my hands in the air. My jaw clenches as I watch the sight before me. If I was angry before, then I must be raging whirlwind now. For a few seconds, I stand there as the fury bubbles within me. I stomp down the two empty rows of bleachers in front of me and down the steps onto the field, ignoring Mr. Stilinski’s calls after me. I walk with a vengeance onto the lacrosse field towards the home bench. The game is starting to resume again as I come to a halt at the end of the home bench.

As I stare at the players on the field, I notice that Liam glances towards the bench. I notice how he looks surprised at the sight of me yet he straightens up with some newfound confidence. He knows that I’m not going to let Brett get away with this. Liam throws a shady look at Brett before walking away to huddle with the rest of the Beacon Hills players. My gaze lands on Brett, who’s twiddling his lacrosse stick in his hands as he talks with one Devenford Prep player. When Brett’s eyes meet mine, he gulps nervously. Brett stumbles over what he’s trying to say to his teammate and drops his stick. He picks it up hurriedly and glances at me again, but not for long.

I meant what I said about leaving Liam alone, and Brett can probably smell the anger that’s flowing within me.

“Hey, Y/N,” A voice says cheerfully to my right.

I turn to see my best friend Stiles Stilinski sitting at the end of the bench.

“Hey, Stiles,” I say, attempting to be as kind as possible. Stiles doesn’t deserve to be at the receiving end of my frustration.

Stiles must notice how furious I am because he says, “Ah I see. Brett’s going to get his ass kicked worse than ever after the game.”

I nod and cross my arms. My eyes follow Brett, who’s racing around the field. There are less than two minutes left in the game.

“You can best believe it,” I mumble to Stiles.

“Y/L/N!” Coach shouts. “What are you doing down here!?”

“Sorry, Coach, but I’ve got something to take care of after the game,” I say nonchalantly. “And trust me: you need me to settle this.”

I look over at him to find that he’s standing in front of the bench. Coach Finstock is standing about halfway down the bench. Coach’s face scrunches up in confusion; he just nods and turns his attention back to the field.

Finally, after what seems like forever, the game ends. Stiles pats me on the shoulder as he stands up. The Beacon Hills team lines up on the sidelines to shake hands with Devenford Prep. I remain standing at the end of the bench with my arms are crossed tightly in front of me. Brett is the last player in line for Devenford Prep. He looks at me fleetingly once he’s finished shaking hands with Beacon Hills; he turns away almost immediately. The teams start to make their way off the field and towards the school locker rooms.

I take off after them. I jog to catch up with Scott, Stiles, and Liam. They all smile at me as I approach them. I throw an arm around Liam’s shoulders and an arm around Scott’s waist.

“Hey you!” Scott says happily, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

“Good game, Scott,” I say.

Scott smiles again and says, “Thanks. Are you going to wait for us … or are you waiting to kick someone else’s ass instead?”

I laugh and enter the school through a back entrance with the boys.

“Both,” I say. “Will you guys wait for me at the front of the school?”

“Well, you’re my ride,” Liam says with a glimmer in his eyes, “so I sorta have to, ya know.”

I chuckle and shove Liam playfully in the ribs. We all say goodbye momentarily, and I watch them enter their locker room. I wait on the other side of the hall, standing across the locker room that I know Devenford Prep is in. My back is against the wall and my arms are crossed again. He shouldn’t be much longer, I think. Brett always takes a quick shower after games because he’d rather take a better shower at home. Therefore, I know he won’t be long.

Playing on my phone, I hope that time moves quickly because I don’t want to keep this issue waiting. After several minutes (maybe fifteen), I hear some voices grow closer to the door. I swiftly put my phone in pocket and train my eyes on the door. A tall body walks out; it doesn’t take me long at all to register who it is. He takes a couple steps towards the entrance where his bus is waiting, but I’m not letting him get far. I close the distance between us in record time.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” I cry, shoving Brett in the chest.

Brett stumbles sideways into a row of lockers. His dufflebag falls of his shoulders, and he lets drop out of his hand onto the floor. I step forward, closing what little space there is between us. With his back against the lockers, Brett throws up his arms surrender. His eyes are gleaming with surprise.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Brett stutters.

“Sorry? You’re sorry!? You promised me, you asshole! You know how much he means to me and you know that he’s trying! Dammit, Brett! You know that Liam doesn’t need any more trouble or shit when he’s trying to get better and trying to get used to what’s going on—”

“I am sorry. I mean it—I swear! I hadn’t meant on being that rough. I could see he was struggling with not phasing so I thought a good shove would bring him to his senses. I’m sorry, love. And I know it doesn’t account for much, Y/N—”

“You’re right,” I say, crossing my arms. “It doesn’t. You fucking promised me, you asshole.”

I stare at Brett with a stern expression. My jaw clenches again. It usually does that when I’m frustrated and angry … or when I’m nervous and I don’t want other people to notice. Right now it’s a little bit of both. I can see that Brett is sincere, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that he broke his promise. A smirk covers Brett’s face, making me angrier again.

“What now?” I spit out.

“You already said that,” Brett snickers. “We both know that I can be an asshole … but I’m your asshole, Y/N.”

I roll my eyes at his words. I can’t help but find them true and funny yet I don’t let Brett know that. Brett reaches forward and unfolds my arms, which fall to my side. He places a hand on my left arm right above my elbow, and his pinky traces the scar that I have on my elbow from a skateboarding accident last year.

“Now,” Brett says calmly and sincerely, “why don’t you tell me more about what’s bothering you? Other than me being an occasional asshole—because honestly, we both know I’m not one often… What’s up, Y/N?”

It’s my turn to laugh, but it doesn’t last as long as I’d like.

I brush a strand of hair out my eye and tuck it behind my ear. “Well, I’ve been stressed lately with school. It’s so hard to focus on school and my grades when Kate and the Benefactor are causing chaos all over town. Plus, we’re trying to help Malia understand the supernatural and understand human stuff. Liam is still struggling with his I.E.D. and his werewolf abilities. I can’t take it anymore, Brett.”

Brett offers me a small smile. We’re both silent for a moment or two. I stare down at my feet, not wanting to meet his eye. It’s the first time since before Allison died that I’ve told anyone about how overwhelmed I am. Brett is my longest best friends and is one of the most important people in my life. I’m so comfortable around him, and I desperately need someone to know that I’m having trouble treading water.

“I’m sorry that I made things worse for you,” Brett says. He traces shapes on my arm. “I shouldn’t have broken my promise. How can I make it up to you?”

“Just hug me, you asshole, and remind that everything’s okay, even when it’s not,” I say with a grin.

Brett chuckles and doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around my waist. I snake my arms around his torso and hug him tightly. One of Brett’s hands is playing with my long hazelnut hair. For a few moments, we stand there hugging each other and enjoying the silence. We don’t seem to notice how the rest of the Devenford Prep team exits the school and goes to their bus. Brett pulls away slightly once the last player exits the school.

“You know,” Brett says, smirking again, “you’re kinda hot when you’re angry at me.”

A blush creeps on my face, but I can’t make it go away. I bite my lip and try not to meet Brett’s gaze.

“Oh shit just kiss her already!” Stiles’ voice echoes in the hallway.

Brett and I look over to one side find Stiles, Scott, and Liam standing together outside the home locker room. They’re all smiling at the pair of us. I can feel my face turn a deeper shade of red. I hide my face in Brett’s chest. Brett isn’t laughing audibly, but I can still feel his chest shake as he laughs. Brett places a hand on my cheek so I look up at him. The blush on cheeks is a faint pink now. I see a sparkle in Brett’s eyes.

“So what should we do?” Brett asks, referencing Stiles’ question.

I giggle and say, “Just kiss me, you idiot.”

Brett chuckles as he cups my face in his hands. His hands are so large that his fingers are covering parts of my ears. With one hand on his bicep and the other on his shoulder, I stand on my tiptoes. Brett closes the distance between us and kisses me. The kiss deepens after a few seconds, and I can’t help but smile within the kiss. Brett is the first to pull away; a wide small is covering his face. The five of us are silent for a brief moment.

“I’m pretty sure I missed my bus,” Brett says, laughing.

We all laugh. Brett and I unwrap our arms from around one another. I quickly take one of his hands in mine.

“My mom’s been asking me when you’re going to come visit,” I say. “I doubt she’ll let you stay the night—you know: the idea that boys and girls can’t have sleepovers. But I’ll ask anyway.”

I look at the other boys. Scott and Stiles share a funny look; both are trying not to laugh about me kissing my best friend at my own expense. Liam doesn’t seem to mind that it happened, but he seems a bit uncomfortable about the whole thing.

“C’mon,” I say to them. “Let’s all go get milkshakes.”

The four boys all cheer. As we walk down the hallway, I text the girls to let them know about our plans to get milkshakes. We walk outside the front door of the school to find the girls already waiting for us. Tonight has been a crazy night to say the least. Lydia eyes how Brett and I are holding hands; she raises an eyebrow, silently signifying her surprise and approval. By the look on her face as well as the other two girls’ faces, I can tell that they’re just as amazed as I am.

Walking hand in hand with my childhood best friend is not how I had expected the night to end. Of course things are going to get crazier—we all know that. But as long as I have all them by my side, I’m fine. With the pack and Brett by my side, I’m willing to dive into the unknown and chaos that’s bound to unfold.

Prince Harry’s speech at the end of the Invictus Games in Orlando:

Good evening everybody and everybody watching at home.
 
Wow, what a ride the last four days has been – I said you would be moved, inspired and entertained – was I right? As the great Stevie Wonder says: Team work makes the dream work!
 
4 days, 10 sports, 13 support dogs, 14 nations, 149 events, 410 medals, 485 competitors, 836 volunteers, 1008 friends and family, hundreds of hours of gruelling competition - and more smiles, tears, hugs and cheers than you could ever count.
 
I’d like to begin by thanking Ken Fisher for taking up the challenge of hosting the games here in the US and also to thank his team, led by Vicky Gosling, for delivering a remarkable event. We’re all so grateful for all you’ve done.
 
I’ve been hugely honoured to hand out gold silver and bronze medals over the course of this competition, but what meant the most to me, was handing out your Invictus Foundation medallions this evening. Those medallions are the real prizes, for the years of intense rehabilitation you’ve put yourselves through to be here. 
 
The competition has been fierce with performances of the highest international standard across a number of events. But what inspired me, was the courage to make it to the starting line, to take to the field or to dive into that pool, motivated by the goal of giving your all - medal or no medal. You showed your families, your friends and yourselves, just how far you’ve come, regardless of the result.
 
I know by your nature you all want to win, but these games are so much more than that – Invictus is so much more than that.
 
What could explain the remarkable sportsmanship of Mark Urquart in sacrificing gold on the track to push Stephen Simmons into first place? Invictus! 
 
How else could I describe the way I felt seeing Tim Payne, a man I met three years ago to the day, in his hospital bed at Walter Reed, beaming as he wore his gold medal round his neck? Invictus! 
 
What defines the spirit of Denmark’s Jonas Andersen, who loaded the coffin of his friend onto the flight which changed my life in 2008, and then fought through his own dark days to compete in London and Orlando? Invictus! 
 
What is the force that drives Elizabeth Marks to return to these games after nearly dying two years ago, to compete now, at the highest level, in a sport that renders her blind and faint? Invictus! 
 
What makes us cheer for Luke Synott, who took up wheelchair tennis, not just to represent his country again, but so he could play the sport with his children? Invictus! 
 
Why did we stand in our seats, cheering our hearts out as Jordanian Wheelchair racer – Ulfat Al-Zwiri – fought, inch by inch, to the finish line? Invictus! 
 
What else could we say about the woman who wrote to me after watching the opening ceremony on Sunday night, to say she’d realised the time had come for her husband to get help for his depression? Invictus. 
 
Why did the 9/11 hero, Sarah Rudder, pick herself up when she fell, just meters from the finish line, and push on for a silver medal and into the embrace of her French rival? Invictus!

You are all Invictus. You are now ambassadors for the spirit of these games. Spread the word. Never stop fighting. And do all you can to lift up everyone around you.
 
I’ll see you in Toronto!

In the end, the least important [thing] for me today is the result, because what we managed to achieve today is more than the results. I could feel it, I could really feel their energy, cheering for me. It was a very hard race, the strategy was not ideal, so many factors went in the wrong direction - but other than that it’s been a fantastic weekend. It’s a weekend that I will remember forever. When I have my kids I will show the video from my lap, the most special lap that I did in Formula One was today with the whole crowd. I’m a very lucky driver to have this kind of support from my country.
— 

Sergio Pérez, Sky Sports F1, 2015 Mexican Grand Prix.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more I’m sure that the Shadow you fight in Generations and the Shadow that cheers you on in the final battle against the Time Eater are two completely different Shadows.

When you fight Metal Sonic in the Classic era, he sports his classic design instead of his modern one. And as I’ve discussed before, the Silver you fight in Crisis City is most definitely the one from ‘06, rather than other games. So… it would make Shadow the odd one out if him, the boss version of Shadow, wasn’t the Shadow from SA2.

He’s found near City Escape, which is set in Central City, the location he steals the emerald from near the beginning of the game. And when you fight him, you’re transported all the way up to the ARK, on a similar track to the one you fight him on in SA2 itself in the final fight against him.

And just look at the dialogue differences between both of Shadow’s appearances in that game:

Boss!Shadow: “You’re finally here, Sonic. I don’t know where we are, nor do I care. This is where I finally finish you, Sonic.” / “Hah. Back for more, Sonic? Guess you never learn your lesson.”

Cutscene!Shadow: “You’ve got this, Sonic!” plus various other lines of encouragement during the Time Eater fight itself (wish I could find a proper script for the battle)

That’s… a huge difference in his opinion of Sonic between his two appearances. “You’re finally here”? “Nor do I care”? That is 100% SA2 Shadow. He was trying to find Sonic at the end of his story in that game, on that track underneath the ARK. And he doesn’t give a shit what happens to anyone in the world, as long as he avenges Maria’s death. Compare that to “You’ve got this, Sonic”, which better echoes his ‘06 self alongside lines like “Are you okay?” when Sonic runs low on rings, not to mention his obvious grief when Sonic dies in that game.

Plus, when you first fight him in Generations, he’s holding the yellow Chaos Emerald - which was the last emerald to be collected by the Dark characters in SA2.

It’s just - I don’t know how I didn’t realize this before, that boss!Shadow and cutscene!Shadow are two different people. Boss!Shadow is the one who was erased by the Time Eater, whereas cutscene!Shadow was sent to the white world the same as every other friendly NPC (he just couldn’t appear as a friendly NPC like the others could, for obvious reasons). This makes me feel so much better about Shadow’s characterization in that game, tbh - all this time I thought they were just making him into a jerk character for no reason, but seen in this light, everything makes perfect sense.

6

Skating Into Art with @flaviosamelo

To see more of Flavio’s photographs, follow @flaviosamelo on Instagram.

Growing up, São Paulo photographer and visual artist Flavio Samelo (@flaviosamelo) was different from most kids in Brazil. “I never liked soccer, or any group activities where everyone seemed to think alike,” he says. Instead, he was drawn to more individual activities like skateboarding, which he does not consider a sport. “We cheer for our friends when they land a trick, but we don’t fight with other skaters because they are from another town or play on another team,” he remarks.

Despite finding a sense of belonging in the skating community, Flavio discovered early on his friends were much better skaters than he was. “It was a little bit embarrassing,” he says. “I remember one day my friend Kamau suggested I take photos of us skateboarding. That was back in 1992, and until this day that’s basically what I do – photograph my friends while they skate.” Photographing skaters comes with it’s own challenges, with no margin for error. “You have to be very quick. Sometimes the skater is trying to get a trick right for hours and you cannot miss the chance to capture that exact instant.”

For Flavio, who’s 39, skateboarding photography is not just his profession, it’s heavily influenced his perspective on his hometown, which he shares through photographs and geometric visual art. “As I would walk through the streets to take photos, I started to notice things like graffiti, pichação and the brutal socioeconomic differences,” he says.

He also started to notice the city’s architecture, which he defines as oppressive. “There are no more houses, and everything is getting torn down to make way for buildings. This is a city that hasn’t had any real urban planning in a century.”

When it comes to his art, Flavio hasn’t lost the same self-criticism that once depreciated his skateboarding skills. “I don’t know how to photograph as I’d like, I don’t know how to paint or film. What I do care about though, is bringing the vision in my head to life, somehow, in whatever way possible. For me, an artist’s work is an extension of his or her life. My work is totally an extension of what I see and the places I go.”

i absolutely hate it when people say “football is just a game” no its not just a game, its not just men running after a ball trying to get the ball into the net, its not just passing the ball to each other, its not “just a game” and that might sound stupid to people but its so much more, its the fans, its the enthusiasm of the fans, its the scarves, the flags, the banners, the cheers of the stadium, its the songs the fans sing during the game, its the passion not only the fans but also the players have for the game, its about the dedication and the love the players and the fans have for their team, for the sport its the feeling you get while watching your team, its the feeling you get when your team wins an important match, its the feeling you get when your team loses, its just the feeling you get while watching the team you love and watching the cheers and the celebrations. its also more than just a game because it unites people, it brings together so many cultures because so many people support a club and they all live in different countries supporting this one team  

football is just so beautiful and there will never be anything more beautiful than football

3

I never thought I’d be more hooked by the cheering anime than the soccer anime after one episode of each, but there I was at 3am cackling over these kids. It’s called Cheer Danshi for those who haven’t heard and it’s everything you’d expect from a sports anime so far (nerdy megane kid, injury, childhood friends). Also THEY’RE COLLEGE KIDS! Pls join me in cringing at how awkward but adorable they are.

So my Facebook feed is buzzing with the Ronda Rousey/Fallon Fox story, and I feel that more than just perpetuating transmisogyny; it also highlights how we, as a culture, morbidly worship testosterone (read: masculinity) in sport.

For example the women in our own sports teams in Australia are world leaders in cricket, soccer and basketball, but how often does the nation stop to gather around and cheer on these great athletes?

It’s argued that sports like whatever you want to call football are driven by testosterone, and the force of it when played by men never fails to draw a crowd (despite the fact that women can play as well.) To some degree this translates to cricket and other sports where boys are showered with accolades almost ad nauseum.

So why aren’t our women being celebrated?

We see through Fox the narrative that cisgender women lack the same levels of testosterone that she would have had before her transition, giving her a competitive advantage. Subtly, this attitude places a trans athlete as “superior” in terms of strength by assigning her a masculine gender, or at least traces of it.

If cisgender women are at an athletic disadvantage to cisgender men, then surely we must be cognizant of viewing women’s sport as less competitive, weaker, and requiring less dedication and hard work as their male counterparts.

Women’s sport is viewed as Sport Lite™ with no added testosterone, and gentle enough for those who can’t stomach “the real thing.”

It’s bullshit.

I can’t be mysterious
Whispering secrets in your ears
I don’t have olive skin and dark
Batting eyelashes
I can’t be the girl that breaks your heart

I can’t be a debutant
Upholding etiquette and draped in pearls
I don’t know what a good impression feels like
Or which side to place the fork
I can’t be the girl your mother always dreamed of

I can’t be the athlete
I can’t pitch a ball to you or cheer on your favorite players
I don’t know your favorite sports teams or who’s winning in the big game
I can’t be the girl who is one of your guys

I can’t be the scholar
I can’t profess my extensive vocabulary
And earn handshakes from your father
I can’t earn degrees or recognition
I can’t be the girl who is intimidatingly wise

You see
I can’t promise
That I will be any of these things for you
But I can promise
I will love you more than any of those people would.

VS: The Blue Bomber

The tournament bustles with excitement; the crowd’s barely contained ecstasy fills the air.

And Meta knight has never felt so alive.

It’s all in good sport; he’d never lay a hand on Rock out of battle –in fact he had grown rather fond of the blue bomber.
But here in the Stadium…he’s going to sweep the floor with him.

He doesn’t know what about the Tournaments appealed to Mega man.
He hopes for the robot’s sake that it was more than just fighting for a trophy.
As far as he is concerned, the little rewards are nice, but the sheer rush of battle, the cheering, the preciseness, the talent needed, the thrill…

Meta knight doesn’t understand the phrase “Trade your passion for glory.”

He can hear Master Hand’s booming voice announcing the battle, and he is so very ready. He is a barely-restrained race horse, held back by the thin gate that is Master Hand’s “okay.”

He shifts his weight, looking dead on at Rock, both looking forward to seeing that arsenal in action, and wondering if Rock is as confident as he is. 

I wish you luck, newcomerI’m going to tear you to shreds.