i hate it when players leave

Why Herbalists and Pheonix Sorcerers Don't Mix

Our party has found our way into a giant dead tree that was once the home to a very wealthy elf and is now infested with undead and fiends. Most of the party’s energy is spent on keeping the Pheonix Sorcerer (who is also our party’s herbalist) from burning the place down.

We find ourselves in a large indoor garden complete with magical fake sun and weeping treant gardener. Through circumstances the sorcerer has become invisible (partially my fault for rubbing him with a flower that turns people invisible) and found his way into a shack kept dark to grow mushrooms in. Four major mushroom colonies are in here, all of which the rest of the party has identified before, but the sorcerer want paying attention.

Through terrible rolls the sorcerer has falsely identified three of the mushrooms as deadly deadly poison, then he gets to the fourth… Which actually is deadly deadly poison.

Sorc: I attempt to identify the glowing white mushroom. *Rolls, gets a two*
DM: you’re pretty sure this mushroom is great on pizza.
Sorc: okay I have an idea! I pick one.
DM: with bare hands?
Sorc: what no! I’ve got gloves in my Herbalists kit. I put them on when I’m about to herbal.
DM: okay you pick a mushroom. It still glows
Sorc: okay I put some of the spores from the sleep flower on it… And then a petal from the invisible flower!
DM: well the mushroom still glows but is now invisible and has little spores on it.
Sorc: okay cool… I eat it.
Whole party stares
DM: roll a con save *sorc fails* okay you do to 0 HP, roll a death save
Sorc: aw shit
Fighter/bard: wait 0 HP?
DM: yeah he’s dying
Me: that… *Finally realizes* oh…
Fighter/bard: Pheonix Sorcerer…
Me: when he hits 0 HP…
Sorc: oh yeah, I use Pheonix spark
DM: *reads the rules* okay yeah… You’re not dead… *Points to rest of the party* you guys hear an explosion and see fire blow a hole in the roof of the mushroom shack
Sorc: *leaves the shack looking like a blown up cartoon character* do NOT go in there!

The Duff ( Bucky Barnes x reader)

Oh jesus It’s been a year since I last wrote something so I might be a little rusty. Also it’s 6 AM , I’m just going to sleep and I have to wake up at 8 so I don’t have time to fix the the mistakes. 

This series is based on the movie “ the duff” 

 Warnings: language 

 Words: about 800 

Originally posted by seabasschino

 You know how people always say how high school was the best time of their lives? or that they’ll never forget high school? Well they are completely wrong, except the never forgetting part, that is true. No matter who you are or which group you belong to, high school is something that you will never forget. 

 Take me for example; I was never the popular kid, I just kinda existed. I did have one small thing that made my social standing better. I was friends with Natasha Romanoff and Wanda maximoff, the hottest girls in the whole school. Me compared to them was like a donkey compared to an unicorn. They were both very athletic; Natasha was in a swimming and football teams and Wanda was a cheerleader. What about me? What sports did I do? Nah I wasn’t that kinda girl. I was more like a geek ( that’s what Nat and Wanda used to call me), meaning that I was into comics and movies. 

 Now every high school cliche has the “ dream hottie” that you’ll never gonna have, right? Well in this story that will be Steve Rogers. I was madly in love with him since 4th grade. He was the boy that every girl drooled over. He loomed girls with his blonde hair, bright blue eyes and his guitar. Damn him. Now I’ve only talked to him once and that was just one word at a party that Nat and Wanda insisted that I would come to. They always did this, dragging me to parties that I didn’t want to go to.

 No guys ever talked to me and if they did they only wanted me to hook them up either with Nat or Wanda and sometimes even both of them. But that party Steve actually spoke to me. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was making my way to the kitchen to get something to drink with Nat. Fortunately for me Steve and Steve’s best friend Sam Wilson were there too. Nat knew that I had a tiiiiiny crush on Steve decided to do something about it and went to talk to them, making me follow her cause I didn’t want to stand there alone and look stupid and awkward. Nat had told Steve that I also happened to play a guitar and what did he do? well  he looked me into the eyes and said “ cool” and gave me his signature smile. Oh god that was the best day of my life so far. After the party I wrote 3 paged essay about what he could have meant with that one simple word. Maybe he meant it like “ cool i don’t give a fuck” or “ cool iloveyoumarryme” hmm no doubt it. 

The next monday I was about to go to school when my car broke down on our driveway. “SHIT” I yelled as I punched the steering wheel. Luckily for me ( note the sarcasm) my asshole neighbor Bucky Barnes was just about to leave too. Now don’t think that I hate Bucky, I don’t, but since high school started he has changed a lot. We used to be best friends when we were kids. We used to do everything together, our parents used to tell us how “ some beautiful day you two will end up together and be the cutest couple there has ever been” pssh yeah right he’s an asshole nowadays. He is what people call “ the player”. He was actually quite popular, having new girlfriends every week and being the star player of boys football team.

 I quickly got out of my car and yelled for him. “ Barnes!!” He jumped a little when he heard me, clearly not expecting me to scream suddenly out of nowhere. He turned around and faced me and his shocked look turned into a smirk really fast. “What’s up Y/L/N?”

 " My car just broke do you mind giving me a lift to school? I can walk home?“ 

I tried to look as genuine as I could. He sighed and rolled his eyes. ” You don’t have to walk home" His response really made my day a little better. See the thing was that even tho me and Bucky Weren’t as good friends as we used to be ( or friends at all?) anymore, we still cared for each other, I mean we used to be the most important person in each others life for 15 years, that has to mean something right? As I got in his car I couldn’t stop thinking what this day would be like, would I grow a pair and finally talk to Steve properly? I closed my eyes and enjoyed the cold air that the AC blew at me. 


Yess a really shitty first chapter haha 

Run away - Evgeni Malkin (PT Diaries, Episode 18)

Requested by anon: Can you do a pt diaries episode where pt is staying late to finish some paperwork or something? Anything else or who it’s with is up to you

A/N: AAAAAAAAAND THIS HAPPENED. Do not hate me too much. 

Word count: 1777

Warnings: Cussing. It gets slightly steamy, but not too much, it’s like PG13.

Episode 1  Episode 2  Episode 3  Episode 4  Episode 5  Episode 6  Episode 7  Episode 8 Episode 9  Episode 10  Episode 11  Episode 12  Episode 13  Episode 14  Episode 15  Episode 16  Episode 17

Master list

Originally posted by m4sc0t

I look at the pile of files that I still have to go through and sigh, leaning my head back against my office chair and rubbing my eyes, which hurt after spending hours and hours reading small lettered files and typing things down on my computer. The Sun is going down, and I entertain myself looking at how the sky turns from blue to red, orange, pink and yellow, to navy.

“C’mon, (y/n).” I cheer myself, turning back to my desk and grabbing the next file on the pile. Geno’s file.

To say that things have been weird between us is an understatement; well, maybe I’ve been acting up and he doesn’t know what has happened. I’ve been trying to keep my distance. I’ve been trying to fight my feelings. Actually, ‘fight’ isn’t the right word, ‘avoid’ is. If you don’t acknowledge them then they don’t exist, right?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey! I love your blog! I was wondering if you had any stereo ficus where they are professional athletes either on the same or different teams and they hook up or are in a relationship but still in the closet and have to hide it?

Hey there Nonny!  Going to assume you meant Sterek, NOT Stereo (mostly because there are no hidden relationship sports au Stereo fics, someone fill that void!).  I am SO not a sports person, but somehow love sports aus?  lol  All of these should have a secret relationship, or at least on the downlow, and have both of them playing sports.  Enjoy!  -Emmy

Originally posted by somanysituations

Sox and Bombers by Nanoochka 

(17,449 I Explicit I Complete)  *baseball au

They didn’t normally discuss their games in deference to the sanctity of their respective teams and the ancient Yankees/Red Sox rivalry, but Derek had to admit it was nice to combine shoptalk and pillow talk with someone who understood. Still, Stiles was the enemy, even if Derek did spend an awful lot of time consorting with him. If by consorting you meant fucking him into the mattress.

Extra Innings by tuesdaymidnight 

(37,641 I Explicit I Complete)   *baseball au

Stiles Stilinski is a minor league baseball catcher who just got promoted. Derek Hale is a star major league pitcher with a knee injury who just got sent down to the minors. Stiles is drawn to Derek, but the further invested he gets, the more questions arise. Why does team owner Chris Argent have it out for Derek? Why is Derek so emotionally constipated? And what the hell is Coach Finstock going on about? Minor league baseball has more intrigue than Stiles ever imagined.

Goal Line by TyReed

(39,069 I Mature I Complete)  *football au

After losing a bet with his best friend, super-dork Stiles Stilinksi is forced to play one semester of football for the Beacon Hills High School “Silver Wolves”.  While reluctant, Stiles is never one to go back on a deal, and follows through with the bet.  After all, it’s just for one season.  

The only problem?  

Stiles is apparently the best kicker the school (or state) has seen in over 50 years.  

With the town, the coaching staff, the school, and his team all cheering him on and giving him a circle of friends he’d never though possible before, how is Stiles going to fit in with this new crowd of people he’d always hated?  How is Stiles going to live through this season, the training, and is he going to be the player everyone thinks he can be?   What happens when the season is over, and Stiles can leave the team with the bet ended?

Though at the forefront of his mind, how is he supposed to keep his life-long crush on star Quarterback (and one of his newest friends), Derek Hale, in check?

Love All by tattooedsiren 

(47,602 I Explicit I Complete)   *tennis au

When Stiles Stilinksi steps foot onto Court 8 at Roland Garros, it’s everything he’s been dreaming of for the last nine years, and everything his life has been building towards since the first time he held a tennis racquet in his hands fourteen years ago.

It’s kinda funny, Stiles thinks, that his first game in a Grand Slam (that’s right, he’s playing in a freaking Grand Slam) is against a fellow American. Hell, he’s a fellow Californian. Derek Hale is slightly taller than him, his face is stubbled and just as grumpy in real life as he’s seen in numerous photos and video coverage. And yeah, in any other circumstance Stiles might admit that the stubble and general sense of ‘stay the hell away from me’ totally works for him. But right now it’s just intimidating as fuck.

Versus by secondstar 

(94,521 I Explicit I Complete)  *football/soccer au

At age nineteen, Stiles Stilinski was the next big thing, according to The Guardian. It was surreal, not being able to turn on Sky Sports without hearing his name mentioned along with the names of players he grew up idolizing. Stiles couldn’t believe that this was his life. 

Two Minutes and Holding by captaintinymite (augopher) 

(117,988 I Explicit I WIP)  *hockey au

There were three things college hockey players Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski knew for certain. 1) Their lives revolved around hockey, 2) They were madly in love, and 3) Derek was so far in the closet he might never find his way out.

They’d been together for two years now, and for two years they’d been a secret with only a few people knowing about them. Yet Derek’s fear kept them from moving forward: fear of his family’s rejection, fear of his sexuality tanking his father’s career, fear of the rampant homophobia in professional sports. The ruse was growing thin.

Something had to give.  

Or: The story of how one epic NCAA Championship run and college, served as the backdrop for some of life’s great hardships.


“Arsenal have finished above Tottenham for more than two decades. Have won the Premier League title twice at White Hart Lane and the rivarly is just most intense than ever. Players that have played for both teams make the atmosphere electric when they return to play against their former team. Tottenham fans have never forgave then club captain Sol Campbell for leaving on a free transfer and he went on to become an Arsenal legend. When these players return to their old home grounds, they recieve plenty of abuse from the supporters and they want their team to win to get one over on the player and the other club. This is more than just a derby”.

Arm wrestling - Patric Hornqvist (PT Diaries, Episode 9)

Requested by anon: For a pt diaries episode, how about beating one of the guys at arm wrestling like “What? You think you can be a physiotherapist and not be strong?” Thanks

A/N: This was quite fun to write, thanks for requesting it!

Word count: 1111

Warnings: no really.

Episode 1  Episode 2  Episode 3  Episode 4  Episode 5  Episode 6  Episode 7  Episode 8

Master list

Originally posted by bennyandthestars

“For the love of God Patric, put a shirt on.” I complain as number seventy-two walks in.

Patric Hornqvist is one of a kind, that’s undeniable. The Swedish hunk looks like he could kill you but he is a big, gigantic stuffed animal who has no decency whatsoever; he likes to walk around shirtless, showing his toned body.

“Come on (y/n), like you haven’t seen it before.” He mocks me and I roll my eyes, standing up.

“It doesn’t make it okay, Horny.” I groan when I call him by his nickname. I hate his nickname. Who thought that ‘Horny’ could be a good nickname?

“Get used to it, (y/n).” He just says, smirking.

“Whatever.” I reply, taking my cardigan off and leaving it on the back of a chair. “How is your arm?” I ask, getting into business.

Patric has been playing through an injury, which I don’t like. He torn his bicep tendon during a game and the recovery has been difficult since he wouldn’t stop playing.

“It’s perfect.” He says and I raise an eyebrow; hockey players tend to think that ‘it doesn’t hurt as much’ means that everything is perfect.

“Do you still have all your strength back?” I wonder and he hesitates for a second before answering.

“I think so, yeah.” He tells me and I nod, writing it down on my notes.

I ask him to sit on the chair and I start feeling his arm; he winces when I put pressure on the area.

“Yeah, I call bs on that one.” I say, applying pressure again. Patric doesn’t make a sound this time but his face says it all, it hurts a lot. “I don’t think you could win my grandma at arm-wrestling.”

Patric gives a side eye and I need all my control to not burst into laughter. I know that he is frustrated about the injury, it doesn’t allow him to play at his full potential; that’s the thing with hockey players, if they don’t are at their best they will blame everything on themselves.

“I don’t think you should be talking, (y/n).” He says, defensibly. “Izzy could easily win you.” I smile when he says the name of his daughter; all the players’ kids are winning my heart one smile at a time.

“Patty, I could destroy you right now.” I warn him, a little smirk playing on my lips.

“(y/n), you are so small.” He emphasizes the word small. To be fair I am average size, but you look small when six-feet-something hockey players surround you.

“I don’t want to make you cry today, Horny.” I let it go, going to grab a couple things for his exercises.

“Uh uh, it’s on.” He says, getting on his feet and walking towards the door. “We need to settle this down because you’ve hurt my ego.”

I shake my head, not wanting to fall into his game, but Patric doesn’t move from the door. I know that I shouldn’t do it, he is injured an all, but if I don’t he is going to chirp me about it for the rest of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I know that he would win if he was healthy; I’m strong, but genetics are genetics and his biceps are the size of my head.

“Alright.” I agree and his shoots me a confidant smile.

“We need witnesses, so you can’t like and say that you win.” He says and I roll my eyes, walking with him out of the room.

I don’t know where he is taking me until we are standing in front of the locker room and he asks me to wait a second so he can check that everyone is properly dressed. I shift on my feet, waiting until his head pops out the door and he allows me. All the guys are sitting on their stalls, looking at me.

“Morning guys.” I say and I receive a collective hello from everyone.

Patric and Phil are setting a table with two chairs on the middle of the room, so everyone can get a good sight of our challenge. Patty takes a seat and I mimic him, sitting across him and crossing my legs, leaning on the back of the chair.

“Show her how it’s done, Horny.” Olli says and all the guys whistle. “Who is with our boy Horny?” Everyone raises their hands but Sidney, who is extremely amused by the whole situation.

“A hundred bucks for (y/n).” Sidney bets and the locker room explodes with chirping. “Less trash talking and more money on the table, guys.”

Only three or four guys bet against Sidney and they decide that we need a referee now that money is on the table, so they call Dan, one of our equipment guys, to the room so he can control everything. Patric and I put our elbows on the table and hold each other’s hand, his much bigger than mine.

“At the count of three. Using the other hand or standing up is not allowed. Making the other laugh ain’t allowed either.” Dan says and everyone laughs. “Ready?” He asks and we both nod. “One, two, three… go.”

Patric is strong, that undeniable, but he doesn’t count with my strength. To be a physical therapist implies a lot of hours of massaging, handling heavy equipment and helping really big guys with their recovery, you definitely build some muscle. I just hold his arm for a little while, not using all my strength and just looking at him right in the eye. Patric is flushed, using all the strength he can but realizing that maybe he was wrong. After a minute of just holding him I decide that it is enough strain for his arm and I just put his hand on the table softly so I don’t hurt him. The room erupts on cheers and screams.

“No way!” Nick Bonino, who has bet against me, complains and I laugh.

I get on my feet and walk around the table, putting my hands on Patric’ shoulders.

“You would have won if you were healthy.” I tell him. “Now get to the therapy room and we are going to work hard on it.”

Patric nods and gets on his feet, grabbing my wrist and lifting it to the air like if I had won a boxing match, earning a round of applause from the players.

“And all of you,” I say, pointing at them with my finger. “do not bet against me.”

We are about to leave the room when I turn around to look at the captain.

“You owe me a week of coffees, Captain.”

confusedandmorallydeficient  asked:

so i heard you're a dm-- i'm trying to assemble my party and write a story but i have no clue what i'm doing. do you have any tips???

I’m gonna start this with a disclaimer: I’m a pretty new DM myself, so if that makes you want to take this with a grain of salt, that’s totally fair and I would definitely recommend getting advice from a bunch of people. That being said, here we go:

I think the number one thing to remember when you’re a DM before you even get started preparing ANYTHING is that your job is to make the game as entertaining as possible for your players. That means keeping in mind what their interests are and what they want to be doing in the game. The way I did this, and in my opinion the easiest way, is to have a session zero and talk with your players about what exactly they want to have happen. Are they all about action with little actual plot, or would they want to be interacting with NPCs all the time? Do they like puzzles and riddles, or do they absolutely hate them? My players happen to really like figuring out the puzzles I throw at them, so when I was designing a cave system at one point, I leaned more heavily towards puzzles than just straight up combat. I also asked them before I started planning out the next leg of their journey if they would be interested in exploring their character’s backgrounds or not, and once I got a positive answer I started to incorporate them more. Even when we’re in the middle of a session, I’ll check in with them and make sure they’re all having fun. Even brutal encounters that leave them just a few hit points away from dying or intense moral dilemmas that leave them scrambling should still be FUN on some level, even if that’s a little morbid. To summarize: if the players are having fun, then you’re doing your job right, so check in with them to make sure everything is going well.

Okay, on to the rest of it. Here’s another important thing to remember: no matter how carefully you plan out something ahead of time, your players WILL find some new solution to the situation you didn’t plan on. My first session with my current group, I ended up improvising a story for a solid hour and a half because instead of the party sneakily stealing a map in the dead of night like I’d naively assumed they’d do, they just grabbed it right out of the owner’s hand and demanded information from him, which lead to a lot of key information being revealed WAY ahead of schedule. My point is this: get used to improvising, and don’t get too attached to the story you have prepared. Sometimes your players will come up with something better than what you wrote. Don’t squash down their idea just because you wrote something else ahead of time! Get ready to make stuff up on the fly, and reward creative solutions. Or, if they’re making bad decisions and messing up something you thought wouldn’t be a problem, let the natural consequences of their actions happen in game. NOTHING is set in stone, and the game is more fun that way. You’d be surprised at some of the really awesome stuff you can come up with under pressure. So let your story evolve based on what your players decide to do, and don’t be afraid of improvisation.

What else, what else… okay, another important thing is to avoid a TPK early on, especially if you’re all new, but not to be afraid to rough your players up because the game isn’t any fun if they automatically win everything. Sometimes it can be really tricky to find the balance. Erring on the side of too easy is probably the way to go early on, because if you’re all new and figuring this all out together you’re all going to start out by making some pretty dumb mistakes and having your first ever character die in their first battle isn’t the best introduction to dnd ever. Plus, it’s fun to feel like a badass when you totally destroy something sometimes. On the other hand, if you make an encounter way too hard, there are ways to come back from that as well. Don’t let your players get away unscathed, but maybe your monster “forgets” to recharge their breath weapon, or an NPC ends up rolling 10 points of damage instead of 22. Or, maybe someone finds an old potion of healing inside a chest that you definitely planned on being there ahead of time. Just remember that THEY don’t know exactly what you have in your notes, and adjust accordingly. The Kobold Fight Club is your best friend for encounters, by the way. Sometimes the CR is a bit off, especially for larger groups, but it’s been really useful for me to help scale encounters so far.

As for inspiration for planning the story, I’ve found that pulling from character’s back stories is great. It grounds your players in the setting, and helps them feel like they really are incorporated in the game instead of being random murder hobos. I’ve also gotten inspiration from poking around the dnd subreddit and the tag on tumblr. You probably shouldn’t copy other people’s ideas directly, but there’s nothing wrong with using elements in them as a stepping stone towards your own campaign’s plot. Think about what you find interesting in a story, and TALK TO YOUR PLAYERS about what they would find interesting. Just run little things by them, like, “Hey, how would you all feel about doing a murder mystery arc” or “Would you like to really get into so-and-so’s origin story?” Getting a direction to go in from your players can be fantastic, both for you and for them.

Last point I’m gonna make since this got pretty long (sorry about that lol): DON’T BE AFRAID TO ASK FOR HELP! I ask people (who aren’t my players) for help planning the campaign all. the. time. My twelve year old sister knows EVERYTHING I have planned since I’ve used her as a soundboard for different ideas so often. If you scroll through my dnd tag, you can see all the times I’ve asked my followers and other blogs for help planning and running a campaign. There are tons of people on tumblr and Reddit and all over the internet that would be more than happy to help you with any specific questions you have. If you feel stuck - feel free to ask for advice! There’s probably someone else out there who had the same question at one point and would be willing to help you out.


i’m so sad abt kelly terry, i hate that almost every woho retirement screams abt the state of women’s hockey, we see players go early so many times per season, it’s so sad and frustrating to see them leave when you know that the reason behind it most likely isn’t because there’s not enough hockey left in them, but because of other stuff, it’s heartbreaking

Reaction #6: Brother’s Best Friend [OT9 x Reader]

Prompt: You fall in love with your brothers best friend.



You were staring at the TV, trying to ignore the commotion upstairs as your brother Chanyeol had his friends over.  The house full of voices as you watched ID’s Deadly Women.  

“Are you getting ideas?”  Sitting up, you turned around to see Baekhyun leading on the wall, looking in at the window.  

“No, tyring to ignore the testosterone filled room upstairs.”  Turning back around you picked up the slice of pizza taking a bite.  “Why are you down here?”  He came up behind you standing.

“Came to see what you were doing?”  Leaning your head back, you smiled up at him.  

“Are you flirting with  me Baek.”  You joked as he leaned down, kissing you.  When he pulled away your eyes were wide.  Sitting up, you turned looking at him as he looked slightly shocked at what he had just done.  

“I’m sorry…you just.”  He trailed off as you reached out, pulling on his shirt kissing him back.  His hand wrapped around your neck as he deepened it.   Feet on the stairwell caused you two to pull, your face red as you sunk deep into the couch.

“Baekhyun!  You coming?”  Your brother’s voice rang out.  

“Yeah, I’m on my way up, just grabbing another pizza box.”  Turning back to you, you looked forward at the TV not really knowing what the show was speaking on.  “I’m sorry.”  he whispered.

“I’m not.”  You mumbled as a smile grew on his face.  

“Talk later?”  He asked.  You nodded your head as he went to the kitchen to grab a box.  

Originally posted by ohbaekhyuns



You sat at the bleachers as your brother sat next to you.  The game was almost over as Chanyeol stood in the goal, ready to block the PK kit that Minseok had accidental gave to the other team.  You gripped the edge of your seat as you watched your secret boyfriend about to get scored on.  PK’s were his worse.  Kyungsoo leaned over, making sure that only the two of you could hear.  

“I know you’re dating him.”  You stopped cheering, slowly looking at your brother.  “I saw you two kissing last night after his practice.”  You blinked as a slow blush came over you.

“Do you want me to break up with him?”  You asked, slowly looking at the love of your life.  

“No.  But he is going to get his ass kicked.”  Kyungsoo cheered as Chanyeol deflected the ball.  Looking up at the stands he looked at your stunned face and then at Kyungsoo his smile indicating he knows something on his face.

“Shit.”  Chanyeol mumbled under his breath.

Originally posted by littlebyuns



You stood outside of the fence looking in at the football team’s practice.  Jong-dae and your brother Jongin were busy finishing up practice.  You held your chemistry textbook in your hands.  Jongin saw you as the team all branched out.  The upper classmen going to their bags while the underclassmen began picking up the supplies.  Jongin sees you smiles and waves.  Him and Jong-dae walk over as you leaned on the fence.

“Hey sis.”  He leaned in kissing your forehead as you smiled.  “Waiting for me?”  He reached into his bag grabbing his keys.

“No, I’m actually waiting for Jong-dae.”  You point as he smiled.

“See, she knows who the best one is.”  Jongin hit him as Jong-dae pulled out his keys.  “She promised to help me with chemistry.”  

“I promised I would go to his house this afternoon.”

“I’ll drive her back.”  Jongin nodded as he patted Jongdae’s shoulder.  Walking over to the cars you waved goodbye as Jong-dae drove off.  A good couple of miles, Jong-dae pulled off to the side where he knew the Jongin wasn’t going to drive by.  Unbuckling his seatbelt he leaned over, kissing you on the lips.  You held your chemistry book in your hands tightly as you kissed back.  

“Jong-dae…we really do have to study.”  You mumbled.  He smiled as he leaned back.

“I missed you.”  His hand rested on your knee as you nodded.  Your heart pounding as you tried to keep the tears in.  Though you should have known that Jong-dae could see through it.  “What’s wrong __?”  His hand laid on your chin as he turned you to face him.

“What are we Jong-dae?”  


“Am I just your…your plaything?”  Jong-dae leaned over kissing you.

“You’re my girlfriend.  At least that’s what I want you to be.”  He confessed.  

“Girlfriend?”  You question, your eyes brightened.  

“Will you?”  You nod, smiling as he kissed you again.  A smile on both your faces.    

Originally posted by daenso


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anonymous asked:

you think you could talk a bit about hoshi, his mindset, and his feelings towards others? I hope this isn't too annoying of a request, but i feel like he isn't really discussed a lot. which is a shame because he's so interesting

Don’t worry anon, it’s not annoying at all! I really love Ryouma—he was actually the very first character I ever got an ask about on this blog, and I still think back sometimes to the fact that being able to write meta about him was kind of what sparked this whole thing and encouraged me to keep writing even more meta this whole time.

Despite his development and role in the story being mostly limited to Chapter 2, Ryouma’s a really excellent character. His FTEs and bonus mode content are extremely illuminating into his mindset and behavior and enjoyable, and his simultaneous desire to die while also still wanting to find a reason to live on make him one of the most relatable characters in the game.

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anonymous asked:

Hey idk if you're still doing these but daisuga for the ask meme?

Originally posted by elie-df

Yes YES one of the few Haikyuu pairings (with KageHina) I can write on!! Love these two, he he he~ Ok, let’s go!

1. Who is more of a ler and who is more of a lee?

No determined roles; they do both! Each having their specificities~ Lee!Suga is an adorable cupcake ok, he giggles and squeals a lot, scrunches his nose, flails and curls up on himself and does all those cute little lee things that melts Daichi’s heart <3. Ler!Suga… is THE DEVIL INCARNATE holy freaking llama! He’s relentless, and most of all he will never stop teasing his victim about how ticklish they are and how it must be hell for them, like damn him, seriously. Don’t end up at his mercy, because he. has. none. Run for your life, Daichi, run…!
Said captain, on the other hand, is the gentlest ler. He doesn’t really get verbal teasing, but he’s all feather-like touches, low humming and loving smile, which makes Suga a blushing mess before the real fun even starts lol. He also give the most perfect hugs and massages after~ As a lee, though, it’s the exact opposite; he curses a lot, and have the loudest and most obnoxious laugh ever XD. Hence why the poor guy does not like to be tickle-ambushed in public! And also why Suga loves doing just that, huehuehue~

2. Who (pretends) they hate being tickled and who openly admits it?

Suga couldn’t be more obvious about it, I swear, that boy’s an open book. He often lies on the couch, pretend to stretch but leaves himself defenseless, arms up his head and all, as he gives Daichi that tiniest smile and goes “… tickle me?”. Who could resist that? Certainly not the Karasuno captain! The truth is, Suga loves tickles for more than the feeling of euphoria itself. He’s always going out of his way to help the younger players, all day, so when he gets back home he likes receiving attentions. Doing nothing and having Daichi take care of him. That makes him feel loved like nothing else does.
With Daichi, things are… a tad bit more complicated? He doesn’t hate it, no really – or at least not when he doesn’t have an audience for his humiliating laughter X3. But he’s not a huge fan either. Let’s say he deals with it, nothing more, nothing less.

3. Who prefers gentle tickles and who prefers getting Totally WreckedTM?

Gentle tickles for Daichi please, or else say goodbye to your eardrums XD (and potentially balls or any other body part you hold dear because he kicks lots. And hard). Suga though? He lives for getting Wrecked, with a capital W.

4. What are each of their most ticklish spots?

Ho ho ho, poor Daichi and his sensitive thighs, yes yes yes~ All that muscle does nothing to protect him, it rather works the other way around surprisingly? Also: armpits. Combine both and RIP him. Suga says he already got him a good life insurance so he doesn’t care and does it anyway XD. In Suga’s case, all his waist area is a death spot and brings out the cutest reactions. Want real screams? Feet it is then, the poor boy’s too sensitive down there it’s not even funny!

5. Bondage? Pinned down? Tickle fights? Quick tickles in passing? What do each of them prefer?

Suga will never say no to light bondage :3. Nothing too spectacular though, just a necktie binding his wrists or something of the kind; that’s more than enough to make him feel helpless, and consequently, more ticklish~ But do not tie Daichi up or pin him down. DO. NOT. He hates it with a passion; being unable to move freely makes his chest tighten, and can get him to hyperventilate or have trouble breathing, like an anxiety attack. So no, just playful tickles for him.

6. Favorite tickle headcanons for this pair?

Consider this: Daichi, Suga, and drunken tickles. They’re teenagers, of course they have a drink or two (or more) from times to times right? But the catch is, they react veeery differently to being drunk. Suga will get all giggly and his sensitivity will skyrocket, like, you barely even have to tickle him anymore: simply hovering fingers over his skin and adding a little teasing will have him break into hysterics! The poor baby will also contradict himself a lot, being all “no no no!” one minute and “why did you stop?” the other. It does all kind of things to Daichi’s heart~ B U T drunken Daichi tho. Heavens above. A rare sight and a real experience in itself. Did I mention he sucks at verbal teasing? Well, in this particular case, you can forget that: he. will. destroy. his. lee. just with his voice. Yep. He can. And he does. He doesn’t feel the embarrassment of it, with the alcohol flooding his system. So now that you have a vague idea of how those two work when drunk… imagine the two of them drunk together. Ooooh god. A tickle monster on rampage and a willing oversensitive victim? Perfect combo. Lots of screams. Angry neighbors calling the cops. And in the end, 100% spent Suga lying on the carpet while Daichi awkwardly tries to explain that no, he wasn’t murdering someone in there. That’s one night to remember~

Forever : Patrick Stump imagine

Y/N: Sorry if my posting schedule has been kinda funky lately, my life’s been weird. Anyways, here’s one for you guys! Xoxo thank you so much for all the love

Anonymous said:
Hi, could you do a Patrick Stump X Reader smut where they both really like each other but don’t say and one night she kisses him and then they have really needy and clingy sex and he’s moaning so much thank u

*female reader smut, going to write this one a little differently than most of my different POV ones, I hope you like it, it’s my first time doing something directly from the view point of someone else


He’s handsome. Absolutely perfect. Every time you stare at him it’s like the entire world stops. He’s kind of clumsy and a little nerdy, but he’s amazing. He’s got this dorky fedora and this million-dollar smile, a warm heart and even better hugs, blonde hair that’s usually disheveled, kind eyes, and he’s a bit on the short side, but you don’t mind. He can sing like nobody knows, he plays almost every instrument known to man, he can speak different languages, and you easily call him your best friend. Every time he touches you it’s like you melt, like the entire world is spinning, like you’re flying and feeling the wind soothe your skin, the air swirl around you, everything else fading away beneath you. He’s sweet licorice and sunshine filtering through windows and teddy bear cotton and the lyrics of your favorite song. But you can’t tell him. It’s never the right time. There’s usually someone else there, or doubt lingering in your mind, him leaving too early, or awkward silence hanging in the air. You want to tell him, sometimes you feel like you need to, but your lips never listen to your brain. You hate it.

It’s a Friday night when Pete calls you up. You’re good friends with Pete, although you’ve never really shown any romantic interest in him. He’s a player, usually has a different girl every other week, likes to party, and much less, wouldn’t go for someone as conserved and quiet as you. “I don’t know,” you tried to stall. “Netflix looks really tempting right now.”

“Come on, y/n,” Pete insisted. “There will be margaritas.”

“I do love myself a good margarita,” you hummed in approval.

“Patrick will be there,” he hinted.

“Patrick doesn’t go to wild parties,” you argued.

“He’s coming to this one,” Pete explained. “I promise he’ll be there.”

“What else?” you questioned.

“Professional DJ,” he added. “What else do you want?”

“I’ll be there,” you decided. What you didn’t tell him was that ever since he mentioned Patrick’s name, the decision was already immediately switched. If there was any chance you could hang out with Patrick, you’d sure as hell take it.

“Cool,” you practically hear Pete’s smile. “I’ll see you later then.”

Picking up your phone and putting your favorite playlist on shuffle, you waltzed to the bathroom, fixing your hair and slipping on a nice dress, then proceeding to examine yourself in the mirror and try to make yourself look nice. You shot Patrick a text, telling him that you’d be at Pete’s party soon and you’d be excited to see him there, and then hopped in your car a couple hours later and arrived. Like every party Pete throws, it’s the usual. An outrageous amount of people, music way too loud for anyone’s liking, and of course, an entire counter worth of alcohol. You looked around the room and then spotted Patrick in a corner, looking out of place, fixing his collar awkwardly and standing alone. You grinned at the sight of him, picking up two Solo cups from the counter and pushing your way through the crowd towards him, then greeting him happily. “Hey Patrick!” you shouted loud enough above the music even though you were only a couple feet away, handing him a drink.

“Hey!” his eyes lit up as soon as he saw you. “Uh, how you doing y/n?”

“Pretty good now that I’ve found you,” you laughed, taking a swig of your drink. “You?”

“I’m doing great,” he nodded.

“I’m happy to hear that,” you gave a light smile. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Yeah,” he managed a chuckle. “I wouldn’t have come, but Pete told me you’d be here.”

“Oh really?” you raised your eyebrows.

“How come?” he laughed. “You look shocked.”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. You eyed the crowd carefully, searching for Pete. You should’ve known he would set something like this up.

“Uh, um, I got to go,” Patrick stammered. “I just remembered something.”

“Oh,” your face fell. “Okay.”

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized.

“No, it’s fine,” you reassured, trying to hide your disappointment, but still unable to wash away the frown from your face.

“I just um, I have to leave,” he explained. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you nodded slowly. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Goodbye,” he waved, finishing his drink and then walking off, leaving you alone. You scanned the room, looking for a familiar face, Pete even, but found none. You hated parties, hated crowds, hated stupid pop music, hated all of this. The only reason you came here was for Patrick and he barely even stayed an hour. You pulled out your phone, debating whether or not to text him. Hell, he probably wasn’t even out the door yet and you were already missing him. You called yourself pathetic, forcing yourself to put your phone back in your pocket and try to forget about him, sipping on your drink instead, alone in the corner of the room, surrounded by a sea of strangers.


She’s gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. Every time I stare at her it’s like the entire world stops. Maybe it’s the way her hair frames her face, how her eyes sparkle when she talks, when her voice is so soothing I could just fall asleep at the sound of it, or how every time she touches me I feel as if my blood is gasoline and her skin is a warm flame. She ignites me with this fire, makes me feel emotions I didn’t even know I possessed, makes me want to love her with every single particle within me. But I can’t tell her. I can’t seem to tell her because we’re never alone. It’s always a party or a practice or someone walking in, never enough time or space, or in the rare instances we actually are one on one, I chicken out and find an excuse to leave.

That’s why when we’re at Pete’s house on a Friday night, I turn too shy. We’re somewhat alone in a corner, sipping on drinks, she’s telling me something and I’m laughing, acting carefree and happy, but on the inside, I am freaking out. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I slip up? What if I’m annoying her? I look around the room nervously and apologize, tell her that I forgot to do something, that I have to leave. The smile on her face falters a little bit, and she nods her head, as if she understands me, tells me that she’ll talk to me later. I take a deep breath, tell her goodbye, and then leave. When I get in my car I can’t believe myself. I need to stop doing that, need to stop running, need to shrug off my anxiety and doubt and worry and just fucking kiss her for god’s sake but I never can. There’s always the shaking in my hands or the trembling lips or the itch on my back or the churning feeling in my stomach and I hate it. I hate it so much because I should still be at that party, but I shouldn’t be three feet away holding a drink and pretending we’re just friends. I should be there, arms wrapped around her body, my lips on hers, fingers tangled in her hair, eyes lost within her gaze, dancing to the music, telling her that I love her. Instead I’m driving home, biting down on my lower lip so hard that it bleeds, hating myself because I’m never brave enough to do any of that.

I got home and decided to turn on the television, try to forget about what happened, about what a pathetic loser I am, instead just relax into the couch cushions and fall asleep. However, I felt a buzzing in my pocket and I realized it’s her. She’s texting me and it hasn’t even been an hour. She probably feels bad for me. I rolled my eyes, thinking I’m probably ridiculous, and decide to see what she sent. So much for trying to forget about her. “Hey Patrick,” she’s sent me, with a smiley face. I couldn’t help but smile, deciding to turn down the television just a bit so I can focus better, before shooting her a reply.

“Sorry I left,” I quickly apologized. I was surprised at how fast she responded, but don’t complain.

“It’s fine,” she reassured.

“How’s the party going?” I inquired.

“Eh, it’s okay,” she answered. I imagined her shrugging in my head, giving one of those half smiles like she always does, taking another sip of her drink. Dammit, why the hell did I even decide to leave? I’m an idiot. “Would be better if you were here.”

“Yeah,” is all I managed to reply, instead closing my eyes tight and sinking farther into the cushions of the couch, wishing I could just disappear. No wonder I never do things right.

“I can’t find Pete anywhere,” she quickly sent, making me question whether she was even there for me. Pete and her had been pretty close anyways, and he always had a better chance with the girls than I ever did. I didn’t want to break her heart, but I decide to tell her the truth, which she honestly probably has already figured out by now.

“He’s most likely with some girl in an upstairs bedroom,” I told her, which makes her respond with laughing emoticons. It’s then that I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to see her words flash on a screen in uniform text, watch her emotions be translated through little yellow circles, try and hold a conversation without being able to look at the sparkle in her eyes. Without thinking, I send the next few words, and then hop in my car, deciding to drive back immediately. “I’ll be there soon. I’m coming back.” What I didn’t know is that my stupid self never actually hit the send button, instead, leaving the words sitting in a text box on the screen, waiting to be delivered, and y/n not knowing at all.


Ever since Patrick left the party, you hadn’t really been enjoying yourself. Sure, there was music and lots of people, but it just wasn’t your type of scene. You had looked around a couple times for Pete, going through the hallways and even venturing outside, but couldn’t find him. You pulled out your phone, tempted to text Patrick, but decided against it. That’s stupid, you didn’t need to be so clingy. Much less, he probably left because you were ignoring him anyways. He didn’t like you. You took a deep breath and decided to head back inside, get another drink, and then leave. However, it didn’t go quite as easily as you hoped it would be. As soon as you picked up a Solo cup from the counter, a boy a little taller than you approached you, dark eyes and messy spiked hair. “Hey there gorgeous,” he greeted with a sly smile that spelled trouble. “I’m Jack.”

“Hello,” you replied nervously, eyes looking around twice as desperate.

“You come here with anybody else?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Uh yeah,” you nodded.

“Where’d they go?” he inquired.

“They left actually,” you admitted.

“Well that sucks,” he frowned, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed, eyeing him carefully. He had ripped jeans and a shirt that read the word boner. Honestly, probably not the best first impression.

“Well I’d love to learn your name,” he hinted.

“Oh,” you gave a hesitant chuckle. “I’m y/n.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he beamed.

“Yeah,” you slowly nodded your head, growing uncomfortable. You quickly pulled out your phone, deciding that this was the last straw, finally going to text Patrick. You sent a simple hey, then slid the phone back in your pocket, praying he’d respond soon. You needed something or someone to distract you, you were never that great in social situations, much less dealing with good looking troublesome boys at wild parties.

“You’re really hot,” he widened his eyes, looking you up and down. “Damn.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” you blushed, growing pretty flustered by now. You checked your phone and quickly replied to Patrick’s text before clenching it in your hand. He had asked how the party was going, and you weren’t going to be a jerk and act like a total pessimist, so you told him it was going okay, which wasn’t exactly false. Things could be worse. You also made sure to tell him you wished he was here, well, that was before Jack started eying your phone screen suspiciously and you had to slip it back in your pocket.

“Not gonna lie, I’m a little tipsy,” he slurred his words, gulping down the rest of the contents in his cup. “How about we get out of here?”

“No thanks,” you shook your head politely. You know it’s rude, but you can’t help but pull out your phone again, reading Patrick’s response and then shuddering at the sudden smell of liquor near you. You looked up and it was then too late, realizing Jack had his arms slung around your waist, and you flinched with fright before staying frozen.

“You sure you don’t want to get out of this dump?” he whispered in your ear. You tried to move away but his arms held you in place, and the way he said those words made a chill go down your spine. You quickly shot Patrick a text wondering where Pete went, and attempted to lighten up at a joke he had made. “Come on baby.”

“I’m fine just here,” you insisted, trying to move again, only to be held in place. You glanced at your phone, hoping, praying, desperate for a response, but found none. Dammit Patrick.

“How about we go upstairs?” he mumbled, and as soon as you were about to protest, you found his lips on your neck, lazily working their way across your skin. You began to try and break away another time, but he just chuckled, pulling you in closer. “Oh come on, y/n, you know you love this.”

“Maybe another night, but not tonight,” you argued, craning your neck away from his mouth. You looked him in the eyes, those dark orbs gazing at you, and tried to ignore his sly smile. “Look, you’re an attractive guy, but you’re really drunk. I don’t want to be a one-night stand. Got it?”

“You?” he laughed, releasing you from his grasp instantly and bursting out into chuckles. “Oh honey, we’ll be having way more than just one night together.”

“It was nice meeting you,” you tried on a fake smile. “But I really have to be going now.”

“Woah! Not so fast!” he complained, grabbing ahold of your wrist as you started to walk away. Hell, he sure was touchy feely. You glanced at your phone, double checking you weren’t just making this up, but still found no reply from Patrick. You cursed underneath your breath and looked up again, realizing Jack was now hugging you. “I can’t let you go sweetheart. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Again, it was nice while it lasted,” you insisted, shoving him away gently. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave now.”

“Suit yourself,” he grumbled sadly, picking up another cup from the table and downing it, then slumping in a chair and starting to cry.

“Hey, hey,” you frowned, patting his back softly. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I just want you to be my girlfriend,” he sighed, staring into his empty cup as if you telling him no was the most depressing news he’s ever heard in his life. “You’re so pretty.”

“That’s extremely kind of you,” you gave a nervous smile. “I’m sorry, but I need to go home now. You have a nice night.”

“Please don’t,” he begged, staring at you with sad puppy dog eyes.

“Hey! Hey, Jack!” a boy with messy brown hair came rushing towards him, groaning and then running a hand through his face. “Shit, you’re definitely wasted again.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” you giggled.

“Huh?” he spun around to face you and then widened his eyes. “Oh gosh, I am so sorry. What the hell did he do to you?”

“It’s fine,” you reassured, although you weren’t really sure how fine it was actually.

“Geez, I am so sorry,” he apologized again. “I’m Alex, I’m Jack’s best friend. I should’ve watched over him. Ugh, you go off and have fun.”

“Okay, uh, you have a good night too,” you waved, watching as they argued back and forth. You took a deep breath, walking out of the kitchen and checking your phone again, realizing you still didn’t have a response from Patrick. What a shitty party. You decided to leave, pushing your way past the crowd of people, deciding to just go home and sleep or cry or die or all three of those, when you opened the door and came face to face with him.

It was blonde hair swept to the side and fedora on his head and iconic glasses and these eyes, they seemed to be filled with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “Y/n,” he breathed, taking in the sight of you, and before you could say his name, before you could think, before you could change your decision, your lips were on his and arms were pulling you closer towards him, both of you kissing in the doorway. When you pulled away he gazed at you, biting his lower lip nervously, but you only kissed him again, wanting more of this, knowing you had waited all those years for him. It was the most amazing feeling in the world.


When I opened the door, the last thing I expected was for her to be right there in front of me. Face to face, she’s standing, beautiful as ever, eyes searching for something, and I’m hoping, praying, desperate for that something to be me. I barely whispered her name, feeling like I was losing sense of everything, convinced that my last opportunity to ever be with her would leave if she stepped out that door without me beside her. Before I could think, she’s taking a step towards me and placing her lips on mine, and I swept her up in my arms, planted my lips on hers, not even caring who the fuck watched us. I needed this, I had been waiting for this for so long, ever since I met her, this had been the moment I dreamed of. It was her arms pulling me closer and her tongue so sweet against mine and all my unexplainable emotions mixed together at the same time. She pulled back and for some reason I can’t take my eyes off hers, my nervousness seeping back into my skull when I realize what just happened, how she kissed me so fucking good, but I’m taken by surprise when she pulls me back in for another kiss, this time just as good if not better than the last. “Fuck,” she gasped for breath when we pulled away, and my eyes are on her, all over her, wanting more. I’ve gone without this for so long and I’ve waited my entire life and I can’t stop now, I won’t.

“I needed that so bad,” I accidentally admitted, my hands finding hers and holding her close. “I need you so bad.”

“Let’s get out of the doorway,” she decided, looking around before tugging me towards a hallway, then up the stairs, finally towards a room where she shoves me inside, closing and locking the door. “Look Patrick-”

Before she can speak my mouth is already exploring hers, our bodies pressed so close together, and she’s leaning against the door, fedora falling off my head, my lips trailing down her neck, trying to savor every kiss I can. “I’ve waited so long,” I mumbled, fumbling for the zipper in the back of her dress and sliding it down slowly. “I’ve dreamt about this moment for as long as I can remember.”

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming,” she begged, closing her eyes tight as I slipped the dress down from her body, her sliding off her heels, me coming back up and kissing her on the lips another time. “Please tell me this is real.”

“It’s real alright,” I chuckled, unclasping her bra and sliding that off of her arms. “God, I hope it is at least.” It’s not long before her last item of clothing is removed too, and she’s completely naked before me, and I drink in the sigh of her, her gorgeous body right there, all for me. I reached out to touch her again but instead this time she’s approaching me, reaching for the hem of my t-shirt.

“I’m so fucking glad I decided to kiss you,” she smirked, tugging my shirt off and running her hands down my chest. It’s not long before she’s on her knees, moving lover, and lower, unzipping my jeans and tugging down my boxers and now I’m the one pressed against the door, her mouth around my dick, me trying to suppress my moans. Fuck, how was she so good at this? I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this for so long.


His eyes, his hands, his body, his lips, oh my god his lips. Everything about him is so overwhelming and addicting and amazing all at once, and you can’t get enough. The small sighs that escape his mouth, the moans and groans he lets out when you’re both thrusting on top of the mattress, the feeling of being tangled together underneath the sheets, the way he’s gasping out your name, the feeling of him sinking into you, everything just pure euphoria and bliss. “Fuck y/n,” he’s moaning out. Patrick had never been one to cuss, but hell, you weren’t complaining. You loved this, craved it even, watching him near his climax and sputtering out your name. You’re tugging at his hair and he’s grasping onto your shoulders desperately, both of you coming undone, catching your breath and riding out your orgasms, holding onto the moment.

When he pulls out and the adrenaline is washed away with exhaustion, you’re wrapped in each other’s arms, both of your bodies so close. “Did you really like me?” you mumbled, curious. “All this time?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, kissing his lips again. “I was just afraid.”

“You were afraid?” he raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I was terrified.”

“Why?” you frowned. “I would’ve kissed you in a heartbeat.”

“Because I want to do so much more than kiss you,” Patrick explained. “I want to hold you and call you mine and live my life with you, tell you I love you, be able to wake up with you by my side every morning, want you to feel the same way.”

“I wanted that too,” you insisted. “I still do.”

“I was scared that you might not like me,” he confessed. “I thought you’d leave me, hate me, think I was stupid for even thinking I had a chance with you.”

“Hey,” your eyes softened, taking his face in your hand and cupping his cheek gently. “I’d never leave you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve wanted this for so fucking long and I still can’t imagine I’m finally here. I’ve been dreaming about you for forever.”

“Really?” he wondered.

“Absolutely,” you smiled. “And I’m finding it unbelievable that my dream has finally come true.”

‘Kids think it’s all about Cruyff turns’ - Gerrard on Coaching Mentality

It was not simply what Steven Gerrard said but, rather, the manner in which he said it. The question, centring on whether he had discerned a flimsier side to academy football over his first few months as a coach, was still being delivered and yet he felt compelled to interrupt. In that instant, he offered up the first real insight into his managerial philosophy.

The Liverpool Under-18 players will not be encouraged to indulge in rainbow flicks, attempt nutmegs or bamboozle opponents with a blur of step-overs next season. Instead, it will be a case of rolling up their sleeves, working feverishly and delivering those match-defining moments through heart and graft, as forces of nature, much as Gerrard had in his own playing days.

“My teams will be physical,” he said, the emphasis in his voice leaving no room for any doubt. “I hate watching footballers, and football, when there is no physical side and you don’t compete.”

Gerrard will take charge of the junior age group in his own right in the summer, the pressure of being responsible for careers more than results something he is keen to embrace, but he has already made his presence felt during 12 weeks shadowing more established coaches at the Kirkby facility.

During last month’s clash with the Manchester City Under-18 side, it was Gerrard who delivered a rousing half-time team-talk, the sort to make the hairs on the back of the neck stand to attention. Liverpool’s youngsters, imbued with confidence, duly inflicted a first league defeat in 28 months on their rivals.

He had consciously sought to inject a little more oomph into their performance and will continue to do so.

“How do you coach it? 50-50s!” said Gerrard laughing. “No, I think it is important that you channel it in the right way. As a player I got many, many tackles wrong and went over the top a few times and I had to come and apologise.

A lot of kids that play the games think they have to do ten lollipops or Cruyff turns to look good or stand out

“That is not something I want to put into kids, or young players, at all, but you have to prepare them for the top level and the top level is physical and demanding and it is not just about tackles and competing.

“It is about trying to prepare them for the last five or ten minutes of games when it is hard, and your legs are burning and your heart is burning, and it is not a nice place to be in as a player. But you have to get them to be mentally strong to be prepared for that.

“There is a showboating mentality through academies. A lot of kids that play the games think they have to do ten lollipops or Cruyff turns to look good or stand out.

“I don’t know [where it comes from] – [maybe] computer games. There are a lot of skilful players in the game that young players try and emulate and model their game on other players like a [Cristiano] Ronaldo or that type of player. Whereas you have to look at yourself and say, ‘What have I got? What are my strengths? How can I improve my weaknesses and become a player in my own right?’

“We all love a bit of skill and talent, I love all that, but the other side of the game is huge. It’s massive.

“I like streetwise footballers. I think all the top players they come from the street that type of player. The kids in our academy are coming into an unbelievable place to work, they are getting boss food, they are getting picked up and the full-time lads get a lot more money now than we got we first started.

“There is a case where they get a little bit too much, too soon and they sort of get into that comfort zone of working in a lovely place and then it is a big shock for them when they have to move on or get released. So that is what you have to drive into the players that while they are here you have to make sacrifices and give it your best, don’t get too comfortable, because the hard work starts when you get out the academy.”

Gerrard, who is expecting the birth of his fourth child and will turn 37 next month, speaks from experience. He has been back at Anfield since March when he bucked the trend among his contemporaries and opted to start over at football’s coalface, albeit one he knows well from his own stellar career.

He could have played on, or sat permanently on the pundits’ couch, but there is a curiosity that lies within. An itch that needed to be scratched, having seen Gerard Houllier, Rafa Benítez, Roy Hodgson, Kenny Dalglish and Brendan Rodgers make decisions and wondered what he would have done in their position. There is also an ambition to help Liverpool that remains undimmed.

It was Jürgen Klopp, the Liverpool manager, who told Gerrard he needed to align himself with a team and accept responsibility rather than float between age groups.

Academy director Alex Inglethorpe [along with Steve Heighway] mentors him and, in return, Gerrard asked for one thing.

“He’s been first class and an open book,” said Gerrard, whose role will see Neil Critchley promoted from the under-18 side to the under-23 side, where he will assisted by Mike Garrity.

“The deal with Alex was, ‘If you’re going to mentor me be honest and straight with me. If you see something I am doing wrong or you want me to change something then tell me because if you don’t I’ll never learn anything.’”

What has he mentioned?

“[Positive] Body language on the side in coaching sessions,” said Gerrard. “He talked to me about my coaching voice and he wants it to be the same as it was when I was a player, when I was captain. He is very good.”

This is typical Gerrard: as open about how he needs to improve as the adjustments he will seek to make in others.

Of course I want to win and the kids want to win as well but it can’t be the be-all and end-all at that age

Klopp and Inglethorpe both believe he boasts the attributes to be an outstanding coach and Gerrard’s eye for a player seems sharp. After all, he tipped Trent Alexander-Arnold, whom he coached while undertaking his Uefa B licence, for stardom two years ago.

He has already put together his staff. Tommy Culshaw, currently the under-15 coach, will be his assistant. Jordan Milsom, the rehab fitness coach for the first team who Gerrard forged a close bond with during his playing career, will join them.

Gerrard knows every defeat will be viewed by some as a slight on his capabilities. He is aware his character will be tested by having to pick teams and drop players, hand out ear-bashings.

“None of that worries me or scares me. If it is my fault we get beat that’s fine. It’s about the players,” he continued. “I feel confident I can do a good job and I am really looking forward to it. I am not scared nervous – I am excited nervous.

“Every manager and coach I have spoken to has said I will make loads of mistakes, but your first job is better to be away from the cameras. You still get that little bit of exposure with the under-18 side – LFC TV, interviews with the local paper. It is a great age and a good idea to start there.

“I’ve been through that process from the age of eight. I’ve had the injuries, I’ve had the highs and lows and that will help me moving forward. I’ll treat players how I expect to be treated myself.

“The key with this age group is development. Of course I want to win and the kids want to win as well but it can’t be the be-all and end-all at that age. It is about their long-term development, trying to prepare them for their own careers, but once the game starts …”

anonymous asked:

Hey, sorry I'm a total n00b, but what's the deal with everyone repeating the "phil kessel is a stanley cup champion" thing? Sorry to bother you! x)

So, it depends a little bit on who you ask, the actual origin is a little unclear, but it is, essentially, a rally cry and big “Fuck You” to all the Phil Kessel haters, of which there are irrationally many. You probably need some backstory about Phil for it to make more sense -

First off, Phil is a great player - specifically, a great goal-scorer and even through some of the toughest times, he has throughout his career managed to put up a lot of points. He’s not what people might call a “200 foot player” who does everything all the time, he’s not a jack-of-all-trades but more of a specialist. A specialist who scores a lot of fucking points.

He’s an olympian, he’s a cancer survivor, he’s dedicated as shit (like he misses a game or a practice waaaay less often than other people, i forget the exact stats but yeah, super dedicated), iirc he does good charity work, he’s reported to be a good guy by everyone who actually knows him.

Phil’s also not your typical hockey bro - he’s a bit soft spoken and he’s too ginger and too round-faced. While I and many others find him delightful, there’s a certain percentage of people who he just rubs the wrong way - which hey, fine, not everyone gets along! He’s maybe a little shy, a little awkward, and he’s maybe a little quick to get defensive/irritated - though in my personal opinion I’d be a much bigger bitch to people if I were as talented as he is and had my work ethic questioned and talked down to as much as he is.

For several years prior to this last season, Phil Kessel was a major player in the Toronto Maple Leafs’ team, but for a variety of reasons, the team’s management and the media there didn’t really click with his personality. I’m not a Leafs fan or anything so I’ve only heard a lot second hand, but they didn’t really have his back, put a lot of pressure on him and blamed him for the team’s continued failures (even though he was one of the only ones actually performing well and they really were doing a bad job managing the team as a whole) instead of letting him just be good at what he does. Plus there has been a lot of media bullshit talking about his temperament and his weight and his - i swear to god - eating of a hotdog (which is actually most likely completely fabricated, but it tells you the quality of journalism). He was supposed to be their star and they should have supported him and been proud, and instead they treated him like shit. I mean, this happens on a lot of teams to a lot of talented players, but Phil’s case has always been a bit strange because he still performs and people ignore it and continue to hate a lot.

Which is when the Penguins come in - last summer they traded for Phil Kessel - a move which had Phil haters crowing with glee that he was leaving their leafs and laughing at the Pens for doing something so “stupid”. There was a lot of horrified talk about how bad a choice it was, how big a waste of cap space it would be and how much they’d regret it and how he’d ruin the team. I’m exaggerating but I’m not.

Now, the Pens team culture is a different one, a little unique in the league. Some teams decide on a personality, a message, and a culture, and they try and mold players into conforming to their perspective - which, good, you need an identity, sure, but several teams take it too far - to the level of making players all get short haircuts and be clean shaven and such things (creeps me the fuck out). Usually comes with a very authoritarian and narrow-minded coach who thinks their personal winning way is the only winning way. Which, will get results, to a certain degree, it’s true. As a personality psychologist, I can tell you that’s a huge waste of human talent though, especially at this level. You don’t want a team made of robots, you want to coach and manage your team so that the things that make your individual players special and above and beyond are the things that fit together. You make careful combinations so the jagged edges balance each other out, become complementing strengths, and letting the best features flourish and shine. The Pens are a great example - especially with the addition of Sully’s coaching style - of how to really play to your strengths. To not try and force guys to be something they’re not, to save their energy for their best features. The Pens kindof have to be like this - you couldn’t have guys like Malkin and Crosby on a team if you weren’t willing break a few molds.

The Pens embraced Phil and all his personality ‘quirks’ and took off the bullshit pressure gave him places to shine, to make his best talents a priority and not ask him to do things that aren’t. And he fucking did it, he flourished. He did good work all season, and when they came through the playoffs he lit it the fuck up! He led the team in points - 10 goals, 22 points in the playoffs. Sidney Crosby won the Conn Smythe because he was also an amazing leader and a play maker for others in addition to scoring points himself during their run, but many people agree Phil was just as much a contender for it. They would never have won without him. He has worked so hard for so long and put up with so much shit, and when you put him on a great team that embraced him (and the guys really have embraced him, they make a point to talk about his accomplishments and call him “Phil the Thrill” and cheer him on when he doesn’t meekly lay down and take people’s bullshit because his team actually finally fucking has his back - e.g. them cheering him in the background when reporters were asking about his salty team USA tweet)

So, what it comes down to, is when someone says “Phil Kessel is a Stanley Cup Champion”, they’re saying fuck you, everyone who trashed him, who treated him like crap and then threw him away. It’s all of us who think he’s great showing our solidarity and pride in him for proving them wrong.

Because he is.

Phil Kessel is a Stanley Cup Champion

And nobody can say he isn’t.

my take on Raven!Neil:

  • Mary didn’t escape with Neil, he became number 4, bc Jean came to Evermore at the same time as him
  • Mary changed officially his name to Neil Josten instead of letting him go by Nathaniel Wesninski to keep people from connecting him to Butcher.
  • Neil loves exy, but hates Riko. he quickly learns how to fake being obedient to “king” so he won’t get punished, but his attitude problem still gets him in trouble with Riko and Tetsuji.

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Summary: Bucky is on a mission for your birthday, but makes sure to make it up to you when he finally comes home.

A/N: @whotheeffisbucky HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I hope you like it, and I hope it’s a nice enough present. Happy birthday love !

Warnings: There’s like ? One swear word and a tiny little angsty part, but it’s basically just fluffy fluff.

Word count: 1973

Originally posted by natpekis

You sighed when you inserted the key into the lock of your small, cold, lonely apartment. You sighed when you slumped onto the couch, lazily grabbing the remote, mindlessly going through every channel your TV had to offer. And you sighed when you opened the fridge to find the leftovers of the birthday cake you bought to yourself. You grabbed a clean plate from the washing machine and cut yourself a piece of your two days old cake. You dragged your feet to the couch and sighed again when you hit the cushions.

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