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therappundit · 4 years

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Best of the 1st Half: 2020′s Best Rap Projects (*so far*)...

“I’ve had, the halftime of my life...!”

*record scratch*

2020, WHAT THE F**K. 😳

Ohhh what a first half it has been. If 2020 ended today, it would still be one of the most historic years in a century...and NOT in a pleasant way. Years from now 2020 will be studied for the long-term damage caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, the potential breaking point (hopefully??) of this country’s ignorance to systematic racism and the need for a complete overhaul of our police departments, and of course, whatever the hell comes from the November Presidential election....and, not to mention whatever additional ‘tbd’ chaos rings in the second half of ‘20 that we haven’t even heard about yet!? These are trying times, folks.

My whole life, I have tried to use humor and entertainment to help me with processing high levels of stress and anxiety. This year, that process has felt more daunting than usual. I am writing less and less, and often find Twitter to be too dark of a place for me to navigate. It’s anything but a fulfilling “escape”. Still, I am constantly inspired by all of the new music that fills my headspace during life’s precious little moments, and it really keeps me grounded in the day to day.

At the end of 2019, I wrote the below in one of my posts. It took me back to a special feeling that I had, at a moment when the future seemed more like an opportunity, rather than a worrisome question mark. I’m going to work towards finding that place again, and I wanted to re-share this because it speaks to how the love of any art can be a healthy reminder of what we have to be thankful for in our daily lives:

“Regardless of how you feel about this list, I hope that you visit (or re-visit) any one of these pieces of strong work and find the same level of enjoyment that I did. I loved so much rap music this year and I could not be more excited about what the future holds. On a personal note, in 2019 I found myself even more in love with my wife, feeling luckier than I have in a long time, more satisfied with my hobbies and passions, and above all else, more in awe of my child (and anyone that ever raised a child) than ever before. I became a father for the first time in 2019, so as my baby daughter continues to fill my heart, I am beginning to wonder what she will think of her father’s love for this art form that has brought him so much joy over the years…I suppose time will tell.”

This list is long, because I think the talent that went into these projects is worth your time (and I put a lot of thought into creating this list as well...I do not work in the industry or know anyone that does, and I do not have any real platform - I just do this because I love the music).

If you are an artist on this list, I want to thank you, because you helped me stay positive and focused on a brighter future that I hope will soon come to us all...because everyone has been through something this year, and we deserve better. So salute to you and many, many others. 🙏🙏🙏

- THE Rap Pundit

The “Rules” for my list of the Best Projects of Q1-Q2 2020:

- the album/mixtape/EP/project/whatever you want to call it had to be released this year, by June 26, 2020

- the project must have at least 6 songs

- these rankings are a combination of my own personal preference, my take on overall quality of the project (whether it speaks deeply to my sensibilities or not), and how the final product compares to other work from the artists’ peers that occupy the same lane/‘sub-genre’ of rap music

So here we go 👀...

1. The Price of Tea in China by Boldy James and The Alchemist

Sometimes the greatest albums are not the most ambitious or flashy, they are remembered based off the strength of artistic chemistry and execution. Basketball fans know the beauty of a perfectly timed chest pass to a teammate streaking towards the basket can be more impressive than a behind the back pass that’s simply done for the sake of showing everyone that you can do a fancy pass. Staying with that theme, The Price of Tea in China is The Alchemist doing his best John Stockton impression, serving to Boldy James’ Karl Malone, and by album’s end you realize that Boldy scored a quiet 40 points while making this rap shit look like an easy lay-up.

TPOTIC finds Boldy sprinkling every ounce of his Detroit seasoning into Al’s pot to yield one of the most Mobb Deep-esque collaboration albums since Mobb Deep was dropping albums. In turn, this project is not only Boldy’s greatest work, but it serves as a re-introduction of a veteran MC that is suddenly more relevant than ever. Much like what Freddie Gibbs and Madlib did with 2019′s Bandana, this project is a great lesson on what MC and Producer chemistry can sound like when both parties are 100% on the same page when it comes to message, tone, and aesthetic goals.

It would make sense that Boldy James would fall into the Griselda fold, because much like Westside Gunn, Conway The Machine and Benny The Butcher, he comes from a city with a rich rap music scene that still struggles to reach the level of exposure that the NYCs, L.A.’s, Chicago's and Atlanta’s have basked in for so long. He writes from a place of “been there, done that”, showing a rich attention to detail that separates his street tales from that of his peers in the same way someone telling a story second or third hand can’t match the level of detail that an eye witness has saved in the memory bank. Boldy has survived both real world and music business challenges to rise from the ashes of “hey whatever happened to so & so, he was about to blow” conversations to reach a new peak in his mid-30′s. He deserved this suite of incredible Alchemist soundscapes (Al is deep in his bag here, delivering some of his most low-key impressive instrumentals in years), and like his super-producer buddy, Boldy is looking down at us from atop an already prolific 2020 at its’ midpoint.

I’m not sure anyone can match the chemistry that Prodigy and Mobb Deep had with The Alchemist, but in 2020, The Price of Tea in China delivers some of the most brutally subdued, occasionally humorous, stripped down rap records since P was throwing TV’s at us like he had nothing left to lose. If The Price of Tea in China isn’t holding the championship at year’s end, it still deserves to be mentioned as an impressive work by one of the strongest title-worthy unions running the pick and roll in the genre today.

2. Àdá Irin by Navy Blue

Okay let’s be honest: the “sub-genre” that is often referred to as lo-fi rap music (whether you consider it an actual lane or not, I know you know what I’m talking about...which I suppose proves its’ existence, right?), is beginning to suffer from the same affliction that all other sub-genres tend to suffer from once the word is out that this is “the thing” that the kids find trendy right now. A lot of folks in this lane sound *exactly* the same to the average listener. I’m not even the average listener, and I often feel that way. The irony that comes with being part of the sound that’s supposed to be bucking the mainstream clone machine turning into a mini-clone machine itself, means that the window is in danger of closing to avoid over-saturation of the artists that are already thriving between the gravelly, whisper-welcoming walls of Soundcloud URLs and Bandcamp EPs being slid to their heady fanbase with zero promotion. So with that all being said...why give Navy Blue a chance?

Navy Blue lacks the name recognition of many of his peers (for now), but he has now been thriving in the lo-fi pocket for some time as both a MC and producer, a young artist that’s closely connected to the lane’s most famous figureheads (Earl Sweatshirt, and to some extent, Mach-Hommy), as well as less heralded trailblazers like MIKE and the whole sLUms collective. Sure you can check out Navy’s Soundcloud page to get a taste of his work, but with this Àdá Irin album, we don’t just hear raw snippets of a freshly discovered unsigned talent. With this album we hear Navy as a self-assured solo artist, capable of sharing an inspirational song with the likes of Ka and sounding like every bit of the veteran next to the iconic soft-spoken lyricist. This is a very, very impressive debut full length album that showcases the best that the (sub)genre has to offer: some experimentation, jazzy loops, the diary-like intimacy of words that sit like dust on an old basement book shelf, and the raw emotions that come from working through love, pain and loss in real time. In 2020 there may be nothing completely new under the sun, but it’s the aesthetic choices that Navy Blue makes with every verse and every instrumental that make Àdá Irin feel like a perfect balance of beauty and sadness. If you want to dip a toe in this water but you’re not sure you can get into the mumblecore-ish world of MIKE, MAVI, Medhane or Earl’s work from the past two years, this Navy Blue album might actually be the perfect intro.

3. A Written Testimony by Jay Electronica (featuring JAY-Z)

Not a lot of positive breaking news in 2020...but when Jay Electronica surprised Twitter with a few cryptic Tweets back in February, implying that he was dropping an album (and Jay-Z would likely be involved), the rap game was set ablaze with excitement, skepticism, disbelief, and hope (albeit with some measured caution there as well).

This is something that fans, and arguably the entire rap world, had been clamoring for for a decade, many long since moving on believing that Jay Elec’s debut album had gone the way of Detox, sharing “1a & 1b” status as the most eagerly anticipated projects none of us seriously expected to hear.

Then it dropped....and then it went. In a Twitter-run rap world, quality is too often measured by how long a piece of art stays within the “trending” mix, as opposed to...well, whether or not it’s actually good! The truth is, A Written Testimony is not just good, it’s very, very good, and while it’s not the “Illmatic 2″ that some may have been expecting, realistically it’s superior to what I imagined a new project from such a reclusive artist would sound like in 2020. If you at least try to table the expectations laid out when “Exhibit C” came out in 2009...I think you will find a project (it’s up to you whether or not you want to count this a “solo debut” or not, but at this point, it’s new Jay Electronica - can we just leave it at that??) stacked with memorable moments, quotable gems throughout, stellar production (this is one of the best produced projects of 2020 by far, not sure how/why this piece of the puzzle would receive anything less than acclaim), and some moments of questionable preaching made more palatable by a strong overall voice and package.

Jay Electronica raps with conviction throughout, and while the project feels brief, it lasts long enough to be more than a quick feeling, even if many feel that it’s not long enough to feel like a full album. If "Exhibit C" was the teaser then this is the redband trailer, flashing enough skill and details to resonate for far longer than its’ duration. Much has been said about the heavy hand of JAY-Z on most of the project’s 7 tracks, but let’s be clear, this is not Watch The Throne 2 (even though at points, it may feel like something along those lines). Yes, in impressive fashion, Hov comes through riding shotgun to show a deeper shade of one of his more complex dimensions, with many of his rhymes begging for dissection with every bar. However, AWT features a JAY-Z that’s rapping through Jay Electronica’s lens, not by any means where 4:44 or Everything Is Love left off. This is definitely a Jay Electronica album. AWT dives in and out of Jay Electronica’s beliefs in broad strokes that appear and disappear rather quickly, but even when certain verses raise more questions than provide answers, every song still has at least a handful of the gripping words that remind us of what made Jay Elec-Hanukkah sound like the chosen one in the first place (his tussle with writer’s block and hesitation to put out any art make for some of the projects most engaging moments).

If A Written Testimony is the last Jay Electronica album we ever here - which I truly hope it is not the case - it is still a memorable piece of work. So if you were one of the folks that moved on from it after the “surprise” of Jay finally dropping a project subsided, I hope you change that stance and revisit it once again.

4. Descendants of Cain by Ka

“Quiet and frigid disposition, growin' up in the cold / Surprised I ain't get high from what I was low enough to behold / Like when Pops shot at the neighbor's shop, put one in his head / He knew how he grew me, threw me the gun, a hundred, and fled / Didn't play, 'fore po' arose dispose of exhibit A / I was raised to age a few years in a day / If not elite, didn't eat if you didn't pray / As much as I heal, had to deal, all my scars are here to stay / Our senseis spent days peddling / Our heroes sold heroin.” - Ka, “Patron Saints”

He makes it seem almost too easy. If the writing wasn't so gripping, you might not even revisit it. Ka’s Descendants of Cain arrived with little fanfare, except for the collective awe of his humble but religiously devoted fan-base. The religious devotion is an important piece here, as Cain adds to Ka’s quietly impressive discography another strong album that leans on classic scribes as inspiration to spin poignant metaphors on Brooklyn street philosophy.

This time, the classic work is the Christian Bible, and Ka being the brilliant MC/poet that he is, seems to have little trouble working with the medium to preach without sounding preachy, and wax familiar-sounding nostalgia over wax that sounds as dusty as it feels fresh, rich, and urgent. Producing much of the album himself, along with a few trusted collaborators, the album’s strength is in its’ density, as each song feels like it requires a pause to unpack every bar...and to be honest, that’s exactly the type of attention this work deserves. If you missed this one in the first half of 2020′s feverish dump of new releases, you need to remedy that immediately.

5. Pray for Paris by Westside Gunn

If The Alchemist is the overall rap music MVP for his many contributions to 2020 thus far, Westside Gunn may deserve at least a few honorable mentions. From becoming the ambassador of Buffalo New York to stepping up as an ambassador of the underground rap resurgence, I don’t think any other rap artist has done more to run with the torch that Roc Marciano has been waving for a damn decade than the Griselda mastermind. If you happened to hear Gunn name-dropping to Peter Rosenberg on Rosenberg’s long-standing Real Late show on Hot 97, you know exactly what I mean. Shouting-out close allies and lesser known peers alike, Gunn’s presence proudly announced the underground movement’s invasion of the highly known New York City radio station. It felt like ECW invading WWE’s Monday Night Raw all over again. Of course Gunn’s voice was met with more ears than usual during that interview, since that appearance came hot off the heels of the release of his much discussed side project turned full-blown album, Pray for Paris.

By now most fervent rap fans know the story behind the album (a project that miraculously arrived to completion while Gunn was suffering from the affects of coronavirus), but for many Pray for Paris is the introduction to the story of Griselda Records and the world that they revel in. If Conway the Machine and Benny the Butcher are responsible for the Griselda team’s grittiest street tales, Westside Gunn’s success leans on his ability to blur the line between all-too-real violence and cartoon violence, splattered with elite luxury references and shout-outs for his fellow wrestling addicts. The song titles are merely scattered trains of thoughts that may or may not have anything directly to do with a song’s actual meaning, it’s like naming your child ‘brunch in Williamsburg’ just because it was the last meal you happened to have that day. An audience brought up on Lil Wayne as the God MC may be completely lost at the appeal, but audiences brought up on Wu, DOOM and Sean Price know exactly what vibe Westisde Gunn is going for.

At times Gunn can come across as more of a talent curator than a stand alone MC, so if this is the album that takes Gunn to the next level as a rap star, it would make him the most unselfish rap star to come along in some time. A rapper doesn’t jump on an Alchemist produced track with the likes of Freddie Gibbs and Roc Marciano and expect to leave with anything but the Bronze medal. The same can be said for his chopped and screwed contribution to “Claiborne Kick”, which clearly belongs to Boldy James. That’s not to say that Gunn’s verse is a weak moment on any of the joints on Paris, but the fact that he consistently surrounds himself with high caliber writers confirms that he is well aware that the quality of the final product will be determined by the team involved, not just the artists’ name on the album cover.

For someone that considers himself more of an artist than a rapper, he continues to paint intriguing collages with every album, featuring him at the center of an ever-expanding portrait of MCs, producers, singers, designers, and dancers. Pray for Paris is a typical Griselda project that also happens to sport the potential of something larger than most of their fanbase ever imagined. Yes we get the dark backdrops, elite underground production, and quotables throughout, but we also get a few additional shades, as Gunn dabbles with a “beauty and the beast” dynamic that cleanly pairs his violent imagery with fashionista pomp and circumstance (which no doubt helped draw the likes of Wale and Tyler, the Creator to this project). But t’s all less of a solo album to push a mainstream solo career forward, and much more of a cannonball through the mainstream wall, just to allow some sunlight to shine on his people...and his city, for that matter - because best believe, Paris may be the inspiration behind the project but Buffalo, New York is still with him every step of the way.

6. Alfredo by Freddie Gibbs and The Alchemist

A highly enjoyable surprise drop from two-thirds of the potent combination that gave us the fan favorite project that was Fetti (shout-out to Curren$y, though), Alfredo feels like the perfect treat to hold us over during these trying times. It feels rushed, but simultaneously sharp and activated. It has the feeling of a controlled experiment that was slapped together in separate rooms, rather than carefully curated by multiple artists hunched over the same mixer for days on end. Alfredo is more of a display of two power hitters putting on an impressive showing at a Home Run Derby, rather than the collaboration that has been slowly simmering for years...but that’s also part of the fun, because it feels like Al & Fredo (eh?) were just as excited to release it as we all were to hear it.

Neither party is reinventing the wheel here, but if you are going to have a rapper and a producer connect for an album of great rapping over great beats, you would be hard pressed to find a more natural pairing than these two. The Alchemist delivers with samples that channel the speakeasy jazz of an old piano, and Freddie is simply the king of hard-rap soul right now, so he excels on every song. There are moments of darkness, moments of hope, and moments of self reflection (Gibbs is a logical choice to swing haymakers back at cops abusing their power), all delivered by Freddie at a break-neck speed over Al's significantly less urgent production....as if Gibbs frantically spilled his guts to his buddy over the phone while Al was kickin’ back with a joint saying “uh-huh...yup, I hear ya man.” The final result is an effective one, if not a quick teaser of what a lengthier amount of collaboration time between the two might sound like. It should also be said that the guest verses on this album (especially those from Tyler, The Creator and Conway) took this album up a few spots on this ‘best of’ list. Alfredo is easily one of the strongest surprises of 2020.

7. Reasonable Drought by Stove God Cook$ and Roc Marciano

There is a tradition in the rap music biz that newer/younger artists are often shepherded along by more seasoned artists in order to insure that the less experienced artist is blessed with the built-in audience that comes with a co-sign. It doesn’t always work, but typically the initiation comes with a solid musical foundation on a debut project accompanied by a greener MC still finding his/her way. Not the case with Stove God Cook$, he is perhaps the most unexpectedly fresh MC to be cut from classic rap cloth since Griselda & Mach-Hommy began to build cult-like followings.

While Reasonable Drought (and seriously, how bold of a title is that for a debut!?) is blessed by the impressive production and mentorship of underground rap icon Roc Marciano, it truly is the lesser known MC himself that captures the imagination right from the get-go. When I say that in my life time, I cannot recall such a strong debut performance by a MC that I have heard virtually no work from prior to his 2019 emergence, with the help of minimal publicity/ad budget (if any? Cook$ was barely on social media until *after* his album had already been released) on his way to dropping an album with zero features...then you should take my recommendation very seriously. Fresh style, some of the most rewind-worthy quotables in recent memory (an Uncle Buck reference!? Bow down, people), and a new following built exclusively on the word of mouth of equal-minded folks that were blown away by a project many copped on a passing whim... it’s clear that this moment could be the beginning of an amazing, fascinating career.

Similar to Roc Marciano before him, Cook$ possesses a rare flare with his wordplay and delivery that makes even the ugliest tales of coke dealing and disrespectful criminal activity sound like the colorful exploits of a post-Blaxploitation hero. He delivers every bar with the uber-specific word choice of Roc, but the outgoing swag of a Max B. The man that has people that never touched cocaine in their life singing that they’re “smelling like a brick right now”, is smelling like a winner in 2020 and beyond.

8. Battle Scar Decorated by Monday Night & Henny L.O.

Last call to board the Mutant Academy bandwagon!

I have been saying that this deep underground collective of MCs & producers has been low key having a banner year all year long, and scrolling through this list you can see exactly what I mean. Henny L.O. is too good to be slotted as just a battle rapper, while Monday Night is far too strong of a presence to be considered a mere associate of the core Mutant team. When you think of Mutant Academy and their respective affiliated acts, think of them as a gathering of solo artists that happen to make dope rap music together, but all parties involved are capable of standing on their own two. I think that’s what consistently impresses me about their projects...hat, and the lack of filler material.

Along with a deep Rolodex of mostly under-the-radar talent, the hunger and confidence of a thriving Richmond, Viriginia rap scene is present on every track of Battle Scar Decorated. Much like many of my favorite albums of 2020, there is no reinventing of the wheel here, the triumph is in the execution. Monday & Henny tag in and out, each with the confidence that they have spit the best verse on the song before they have even finished. It’s that level of ability combined with a shocking amount of production talent that makes Battle Scar Decorated essential listening to anyone that wants to be reminded of a vibe that hasn’t been in abundance in the underground rap scene since L.A. in the late 90′s. It wouldn’t be fair to talk about how much I enjoyed this project without including the great producers involved, so a big s/o to: Sycho Sid, C.R.I.S.T.E.N, James Couch, Savvy, Heather Grey, and Ewonne.

9. Eastern Medicine, Western Illness by Preservation

Accompanied by a who’s who of underground hip-hop’s finest (Roc Marciano, Mach-Hommy, Your Old Droog, Quelle Chris, Nickelus F, Tree, Navy Blue, Billy Woods, Ka *and more* - I mean seriously!?), Preservation has assembled an impressively cohesive compilation album both sonically and thematically.

Incorporating record samples from his travels in China, Eastern Medicine, Western Illness feels born in simplicity even though it is anything but a casual collection of dope verses over tightly wound production. A quietly gifted producer, Preservation knows how to squeeze the best out of his guests without shouting the results through the speakers, the choices are more subtle but yield a high impact and replay value. Listening to the project feels more like listening to a secret, unreleased project, because it’s hard to believe that this much talent would gift this much high caliber writing to a compilation of songs...although that was not uncommon in the 90′s and early 00′s (ah, I’m showing my old age again). Perhaps that’s a testament to Preservation’s vision, a DJ/producer with a relatively small catalog built on curated quality (see his fantastic 2015 collaboration with Ka on Days With Dr. Yen Lo). Eastern Medicine has enough talent involved that it could have been a worthy listen even if it was just as a hodgepodge of donated loosies, so the fact that the final product is so much more than that makes it an album that warrants a great deal of more attention.

10. The Allegory by Royce Da 5′9″

No accomplished lyricist makes life harder on himself than Royce Da 5′9″. Be it his tendency to cram personal observations and disclosures in and around his punchlines, or experimenting production wise, the Detroit veteran is intent on finding new ways to approach fine wine music, tossing more complex offerings into his catalog over the past few years. Things are no different with The Allegory.

Not only did Royce once again pen an album that speaks to his ability to cope with his own past and present, he inserts himself in the producer chair as well, addressing the trials and tribulations of the increasingly problematic world around him, over backdrops crafted by only his hand a a few trusted peers. The effect is mostly successful, with the production exceeding the expectations of many (myself included), while the writing is at times both thought-provoking and in need of further exploration on Royce’s part. The guest features range from effective to scene stealing (not because Royce ‘s verse is outshined, but there are moments where it seems as if the guest is better suited over Royce’s own production than he is). If you’re Royce Da 5′9″ and you release an album titled The Allegory, no one should expect a simple quick fix of bars over easily digestible instrumentals. The highs come in abundance, and while the lows come in small trip-ups and the occasional skit that the listener probably could have done without, you get the sense that with some editing and further focus of his lofty goals, his sermons could have been sharpened into a more effective analysis of many of his topics (the music business, being black in America, history, conspiracy theories), resulting in an incredible album instead of a very good one. Nevertheless, it is all worth the ride to hear the latest work from one of rap music’s most gifted MC’s from the past decade. If The Allegory isn’t a home-run, it’s at the very least a strong base hit.

Top 50 (all belong in the Top 10-25, but...there’s only 25 spots in the Top 25, soooo):

11. Cold Water by Medhane

12. Shrines by Armand Hammer

13. Bag Talk by yungmorpheus & Pink Siifu

14. Try Again by ovrkast.

15. RTJ4 by Run The Jewels

16. Noise Kandy 4 by Rome Streetz

17. Innocent Country 2 by Quelle Chris

18. Weight of the World by MIKE

19. Sages by Henny L.O. & Ohbliv

20. Milestones by Skyzoo

21. Carpe Noctem by Big Ghost Ltd

22. Lake Water by SeKwence

23. At the End of the Day. by Fly Anakin

24. Sole Food by Deniro Farrar

25. The Oracle 3 by Grafh

26. The Blue Tape by Tree

27. lo&behold by lojii

28. Infinite Wisdom by Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon

29. FULL CIRCLE by Medhane

30. UNLOCKED by Denzel Curry & Kenny Beats

31. The Throwaways by The Opioid Era

32. Anyways by Young Nudy

33. PTSD (Deluxe) by G Herbo

34. Holly Favored by Monday Night & Foisey

35. THE GOAT by Polo G

36. Demon & Mufasa by Yhung T.O. & DaBoii

37. The Face of Jason by ANKHLEJOHN

38. My Turn by Lil Baby

39. No One Mourns the Wicked by Conway & Big Ghost Ltd.

40. Two4one by Jay Worthy

41. Free Drakeo by Drakeo

42. Alone Time by YL

43. Assata by CV$ a.k.a. Con$piracy & Teller Bank$

44. Thug Tear by Big Kashuna O.G. & Monday Night

45. Ways and Means by Rasheed Chappell & 38 Spesh

46. IMMORTALKOMBAT by Al Divino & Estee Nack

47. Young & Turnt 2 by 42 Dugg

48. Sleeper Effect by Sleep Sinatra

49. Juno by Che Noir & 38 Spesh

50. LULU by Conway & The Alchemist

THE REST OF THE BEST (all belong in the Top 50 releases of 2020, but..what can I say, blame 2020 for being such a stacked year for music/events I guess):

Black Schemata by yungmorpheus, The Smartest by Tee Grizzley, Polly by the Powder Keg by Chuck Chan & Pad Scientist, High Off Life by Future, Gotham City Album by Plex Diamonds, Memphis Massacre 2 by Duke Deuce, Poetic Substance by RIM & Vinyl Villain, Styles David: Ghost Your Enthusiasm by Styles P, MF Bloo by Bloo & Spanish Ran, LSD by The Leonard Simpson Duo & Guilty Simpson, Funeral by Lil Wayne, RAW UNKNOWN by Spectacular Diagnostics, Nezzie’s Star by Eddie Kaine, ShrapKnel (self-titled), The Bluest Note by Skyzoo & Dumbo Station, WUNNA by Gunna, Get Money Teach Babies by Heist Life & Spanish Ran, Open Casket by Killer Kane, 6 Rings by Yung Mal, The Beauty of It by Eto, Meet The Woo 2 by Pop Smoke, Fresh Air by UFO Fev & Statik Selektah, Vito by Vince Ash, GRIMM & EViL by GRiMM Doza, RUDEBWOY by CJ Fly, Rocket to Nebula by Killah Priest, EVERYTHING by Kota the Friend, NO Blade of Grass by V Don, Eternal Atake by Lil Uzi Vert, I’m My Brother’s Keeper by Yella Beezy & Trapboy Freddy, Carhartt Champions by Tree Mason, Viral Viral! by Dunbar, Rowhouse Whispers by Ray West & Zilla Rocca, Magneto Was Right #4 by Raz Fresco, DUMP LIFE by Tha God Fahim, Jay NiCE & Left Lane Didon, Burn One, Tap In, Zone Out by Dot Demo, FNTG: From Niggaz to Godz by Squeegie O, PANAGNL4E, Vol. 2 by Los and Nutty, Death 2 All Haterz 2 by Rigz & Symph, Thank You For Using GTL by Drakeo & JoogSzn, Adjust to the Game by Larry June, Martyr’s Prayer by Elcamino & 38 Spesh, BETTER by Deante’ Hitchcock, Attack of the Future Shocked, Flesh Covered, Meatbags of the 85 by $ilkMoney, No Cosign Just Cocaine 3 by Ty Farris, Hear No Equal by Chuuwee, MSYKM by Tsu Surf, Your Birthday’s Cancelled by Iron Wigs, Spring Clean by Curren$y & Fuse, Arctic Plus Degrees (The Sun Don’t Chill Allah) by Planet Asia & DirtyDiggs, Psychological Cheat Sheet by Vic Spencer, Glass 2.0 by Meyhem Lauren & Harry Fraud, Trust the Chain by Planet Asia & 38 Spesh, Director’s Cut (Scene Two) by Ransom & Nicholas Craven, and Son Of A Gun by Key Glock.

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writings-of-the-unkown · 5 years

Text

Who Ever Said Rivals Shouldn’t Be in Love Has Never Met Us

request: yes

pairing : Tobin Heath x Reader

Y/N- your name

Y/L- your last name

Warning: some swears(F-word two or three times), gay, injuries?, ANGST sorry not sorry :|

972 Words

A/N: THIS IS FICTION ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE

I never thought that my personal life would crossover with my work life. Well except when I started dating Tobin, considering we both play soccer in the NWSL. I play out in Orlando with Alex, Ali, and Ashlyn, while Tobin plays for Portland with Meghan, Lindsey, Emily, and Adrianna. We don’t really see each other often but we do a lot of Skyping/FaceTiming.

“Hey Y/N, so glad we got to see each other. I’ve got something to tell you” Tobin said, after I picked up the call.

“Of course love, what’s up?” my accent pokes through more when I get nervous.

“So here’s the thing. The team went out last night and I had a few too many drinks. I don’t think it went any further than a make out session, but I’m telling you this in hopes that you won’t entirely kill me” Tobin said somberly. “Baby please say something”.

“I’ll have to call you later, the girls just came back so I gotta go” I said as I hung up on her.

“Hey what’s up Y/N? Do anything fun while we were out?” Ash laughed.

“Wait Y/N are you crying? What’s wrong hun?” I didn’t even register that I was crying until Ali brought attention to it.

“Tobin called, she-” I attempted to breathe as both Ali and Ash sat beside me on the couch. Ash had her hand on my knee and Ali had her arm around my shoulders and she was slightly squeezing me. “She cheated on me. I just can’t believe this” I turned into Ali’s shoulder and cried a little bit harder in that moment.

I don’t really remember what happened after that. But the next day we had a game, and guess who it was against. That’s right, Portland and Tobin. I really didn’t want to see her but I still have to play.

We got to the stadium and we went into the locker room. I sat next to Carson because my number is 15 so I was just gonna sit with my music, but she had a different idea. Ash was DJing for the whole team, so Carson decided to drag me up to dance with her.

The game starts and Tobin had the ball. She lead the attack and was coming straight towards me. I stepped up to challenge but she basically ran me over. I hit the ground hard, my neck snapped up from the impact of the hit, and my vision went black.

I felt someone lay their hand on my shoulder.

“Y/L, can you hear me? Try to open your eyes” a voice asked quietly.

I cracked my eyes open and focused on Ali, Ash, and Carson peering down on me. Ash helped me sit up. The med staff came over and pulled me off the field. They gave me the concussion test which I cleared me. I stood by the fourth official. The center ref waves me on and I immediately get the ball from Ali. I run down the sideline until Tobin marks me. I tried to nutmeg her, but that didn’t work out so well. She tripped me and I hit the ground once again. It seems as if she has it out for me and I was not going to tolerate her behavior any more. I hopped to my feet and got right into her face. Fear flashed over Tobin’s face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You know that I don’t fucking deserve this shitty treatment! First you fucking cheat on me, then you almost give me a fucking concussion! What the hell has gotten into!?!? This is not the Tobin I was planning to ask to marry me” I screamed at her. Alex got me to turn away from her and Alex motioned for Ali and Carson to come get me before the ref could give me a card.

“Were you really planning on proposing? Cause that would be---ow Ali what was that for? Carson complained after what I assume was Ali smacking her.

“Yeah I was because she was the love of my life” I said as sadness dripped from every word.

I was subbed out at halftime because my headache had gotten worse and the team doctor wanted to get me checked out by a neurologist. On the drive to the hospital after the game, my mind kept wandering to thoughts of Tobin. It is kind of a blessing in disguise that we play for different national teams. I’m sure my teammates will get a kick out of my despair at our next team camp.

When we got to the hospital, they checked me out and said that I did have a very minor concussion. They admitted me for observation. I told the team doc that he could leave but I also asked him to let Ali, Ash and Carson know what happened.

I sat in the dark and was eventually taken over by my thoughts. I was broken out by a knock on the door. My eyes could identify the silhouette of a person and they walked in.

“Hey Y/N, I’m not sure if you’re awake but I just wanted to apologize for the way I have been acting recently. I’m sorry, you don’t deserve to be treated the way I have been treating recently. I understand if you want to break up” Tobin had tears streaming down her face.

“Love, I am hurt by your decisions but I meant what I said out on the field. I was going to propose and I still am but please give me time to process what happened. Afterall, you did give me a concussion” I said with a smile.

“Anything for you Babe” Tobin whispered after she placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

I fell asleep in Tobin’s arms that night and for the first time in a long while, I was truly happy.

After all, who ever said that rivals shouldn’t be in love has never met us.

#requested #tobin heath #tobin heath x reader #fanfic #uswnt #uswnt imagines #this is fiction

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gucciwins · 5 years

Text

World Cup - Lyon, France

Y/N roots for USA and Harry is the best

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: The World Cup is my favorite. Harry is also add them together and it is a match made in heaven. The perfect opportunity presented itself and I could not let it go by. England vs. USA was an intense match but these teams played their heart out.

Happy Reading !

July 2, 2019 11:00 am

You have the TV turned on to Fox Sports channel and are listening to the commentary before game time. Harry is upstairs doing god knows what but he said he would join you shortly. You think he agreed to join you because you made your famous cheese dip that he seems to enjoy.

Honestly, you don’t think you will be eating at all this game. Not because you don’t want to ruin your USA jersey that proudly shows of number 17 and Heath across your back but because this game has you anxious and really want your team to make it to the finals.

Harry told you it was just futbol but for you it was more than that. It is the sport you have played since you were six years old. The sport that made you strong and reminded you why friendship and teamwork is important. That communication is the key to success in everything you do. Overall, it shaped you to be the person you are today. Harry cried when you finished explaining what it meant to you and then agreed to watch it with you.

You were upset that you couldn’t go to France for this world cup. Harry saw how upset you got when friend’s of yours sent you videos and pictures because you couldn’t make the trip due to a work issue that finally got resolved last week. It bummed you out but what did make you cry is when your friends got their Jersey signed by Christen Press and Alex Morgan.

You claimed something was in your eye but Harry felt your pain. He promised to himself that he would go with you to the next one no matter where it was. Honestly, it led to some mind blowing sex. If you asked Harry.

11:55 am

“God Save the Queen” starts to play and you are staring in awe at the television. The stadium is packed in Lyon. You sing along quietly to “The Star-Spangled Banner”. You look at the starting line up and can’t help but smile at these twenty two women who are about to fight for a spot to the finals.

This will be a long 90 minutes.

1’

“HARRY!” you yell wanting him to come as it’s starting.

“I’m coming, love.” He says sitting next to you pulling you close.

“What were you doing up there?” You question not looking away from the screen in front of you.

“I had some phone calls to make.” He reassured you.

Rose Lavelle cut of a player and in she goes. She crosses and it’s blocked. You jump up from your spot and startle Harry.

“Wow, that was a close one.” Harry chuckles and rubs your arm gently calming you instantly.

“Good thing I don’t got any popcorn in my lap or it would have gone flying” Harry jokes and you can’t help but laugh.

There is not much talk from you anymore mostly listening to the commentators and what they think of this game.

“I have a question.” Harry begins. He’s sees that you won’t answers and keeps talking. “Why do they-“

“YES!!!” you scream. “Goal, you go Press!” You cut Harry off but that goal was beautiful. Rose Lavelle let the ball go allowing O’Hara to send a beautiful cross and Christen Press was there to header it into the back of the net.

You sit there looking at the replay and just stare at awe in that teamwork. This team needs to stay strong to make it through.

“Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to interrupt but it was bad timing.” You lean over to give him a kiss. Harry pouting not used to sharing your attention.

“I just wanted to know why the US has different captains.”

“Oh, they got co-captains. Morgan and Rapinoe lead the team but only have one on the actual field. Like in high school I was co-captain with Tiff and we passed it onto the next who had the potential and the growth we saw in ourselves.” Harry gives you a forehead kiss and thanks you quietly.

“Did you see that shot? Lavelle, needs to be kept tight or she will score. Fast and agile she needs to be marked good.”

18’

A long beautiful cross and and another one to center field. White gets a touch on it and in it goes.

You sit there shocked. That was a nice play but the US’s mistake was leaving them open. Harry waits for you to freak out and yell at the TV.

“Nice goal. This game is only going to get tougher.” You see that Harry is surprised at how calm you are.

“H, me yelling at a television does nothing.” He chuckles and you both continue to view the match.

“Oh hell no!” You yell. “Not a penalty. Don’t go there, England. You are better than that.”

25’

“Oh my Alex is down.” Harry is confused at how you see that.

Two players going for the ball and getting headed by a head rather than a ball can leave you hurting. She gets checked on and looks away.

“It’s her birthday, love.” Harry nods his head to Alex Morgan.

“Yeah, could be a good or bad day for her.” You tell him.

“I wouldn’t like to play on my birthday. Years later I’d remember that day forever if it was a bad time.”

You laugh at him. “At least the type of playing you do always leads to good memories.” You remind him.

30’

Horan has the ball. She sends a cross into the box and Alex Morgan is there to finish the job.

“GOAL!!!!” The television yells. “A very happy birthday for Alex Morgan.”

You sit there shocked. Not expecting that at all. Harry can’t help but get excited because he may not know who to root for but he can celebrate a nice goal.

“This is too much.” You look over at Harry tears in your eyes. “This will hurt if we lose.”

Harry feels for his love. He knows what it is like to be all in for a team but mostly a passion. This is your passion that you care for. “I’m here to support you, love.”

40’

Smack to the face. Bright arm up hits Morgan in the face.

“Hey, that’s a yellow.” Harry yells.

You snicker quietly but Harry nods proudly when he sees the yellow given to Bright.

Right after Horan and Scott are in a foul. It looks bad on both sides but England is given the kick.

“This game is getting dirty.” Harry agress and says he doesn’t like it as well.

45’

The whistle is blown and that is halftime. You sit back and breathe. You look over at Harry and smile at him.

“That is what I call intense.” Harry says to you.

You laugh but agree with him. You get up and stretch your hands over you head. Walking towards the restroom.

“H, this is break time. Use it. Don’t think I’m letting you get up second half.” You tell him with a smile.

“Can we do other fun stuff during this time?” He yells at you.

“Get me a drink and refill the chips you finished and we’ll see.”

Harry could not move any quicker.

45’

“Harry.” He doesn’t answer and keeps kissing your neck. You are enjoying this, but the game is on in like a minute.

“Harry!” You exclaim pulling his hair that makes him let out a loud moan. “The game started. Keep your hands to yourself.”

He pulls away and sits on the other side of the couch. “Fine, no kisses or cuddles for you.”

“H, it goes both ways. You know that.” Not looking away from the screen. Wincing out loud when you see what almost played out a goal against your team.

55’

You lean in closer seeing the Lavelle sprinting down the center of the field the ball at her feet. She never gets the chance to do much with three around her.

You sit back defeated.

You start getting a bit thirsty and reach for the Ginger Ale Harry brought for you when he moves it out of reach.

“No, drink for you.” He tells you. You sit back upset but decide not to fight him on it. “No chips neither. I got those.”

You look over at him and smile. He doesn’t like this smile.

“No dip for you, I made it.” Harry grows sad quickly.

“Can we talk this out?”

You dip a finger in the delicious cheese dip. You pop the finger in your mouth and pull it out slowly.

“I don’t think so.” You saw with a smirk and look away.

Harry sits there upset. What else is he supposed to do, he got himself in this mess.

65’

Lavelle is subbed out for Mewis. She did well but it gets tough being a target. Right after O’Hara is fouled outside the box. Heath is taking the shot. It does not lead to a goal but it was beautiful.

“Why is Heath your favorite?” Harry questions knowing it could make you happy talking about a player you like.

Before you can think to answer. England scores. You sit back not knowing what to do. You stare at the replay and see Scott give the small touch and White takes the lead and gets it past Naeher.

You and Harry sat in silence for the next minute when you hear the commenters say that it will be watched back by VAR because it could be offside.

You wait and wait when finally it is announced that White was offside. You don’t know what to do in this situation. You hate this but you also don’t want to celebrate a goal being taken away. VAR is new technology that is definitely changing the game.

“Do you want a cuddle?” Harry asks because he can feel the stress you feel from where he’s sitting. You nod quietly and he moves closer.

You lay your head on his chest and curl your legs close. “I always want cuddles.”

75’

This heatwave has not been kind to Europe. You’re thankful you don’t play but what a dream it would be to play on the USA team or at least meet them and tell them how awesome they are doing not only for the game but for women and fighting for equality.

Heath is out for Lloyd and you hope this hero can score. Grand applause for both but you are nervous for what the call may be prior to the subbing. It didn’t look like a penalty but it could be called as anything.

“Harry, hold me tighter.” You say.

“I got you, love. No matter what it is you’ll team will be fine.”

82’

A penalty is given and Sauerbrunn receives a yellow. You don’t like this one bit. This changes everything.

You sit there wrapped up in the safest arms on earth and watch what could be a game changer.

Houghton, England’s captain takes the shot but it is blocked. Naeher saves the US from a goal. USA celebrates quickly and is ready for the attack.

You let out a breath you were holding. Harry rubs his hand up and down your back. “All good, love.” He reminds you. “Let’s hope they stay strong.”

85’

England is getting a bit dirty but you think nothing of it. Bright and Morgan go for a ball and Bright hits her in the shin. A straight yellow, it seems show doesn’t remember the previous yellow before until she’s told and the England player gets the red.

Well shit, you think.

“Harry, Krieger is going in.” You tell him although he could see this. You were just excited to finally get her on the field. She is also one of your favorites. That worn out jersey in your closet it proof.

“She’s great, Jill Ellis doesn’t play her much anymore.”

Morgan is fouled again. You're not surprised many have said Alex Morgan is the one to watch with and without the ball. England is not taking any chances.

90’

Harry seems to hold onto you tighter waiting for the whistle to blow expect it doesn’t.

“Why are we still going?” Harry questions.

“Extra time for what was stopped during the game. Stoppage time and such.” You explain.

“Okay, we can do this.” He tells you.

“We” you tease.

“Yes, after all this stress it’s we.” You snuggle closer and place a kiss on his chest letting him know you like that.

Parris is a strong player but you are surprised at the fouls she is doing. The pressure is making her crack.

England has control of the ball but does not use it well. You don’t know what to do. Expect wait for time to stop.

Dunn gets head on ball and gets it out. Foul after foul USA and England both don’t stop fighting.

96’

With seconds left, you sit up but Harry doesn’t let you go. You are waiting for the sweet sound of the whistle to blow. Come on. Come on. Blow it already.

The referee blows the whistle loud and clear. You stand up quickly and run around the living room. Yelling a bunch of nonsense.

Harry sits at the couch looking at you with the biggest smile on his face. You’ve got too much energy and there is only one person who can help you properly to release it.

You stop cheering and lock eyes with Harry. In the next few seconds you are wrapped up in his arms. Kissing him with all the joy that is running through your veins.

Harry pulls away. His pink lips swollen but a large smile on his face. He runs his thumb down your cheek and lets out a dimpled smile when you kiss his thumb.

“Do you fancy a small holiday, love?” He asks.

“With you, anywhere in the world.” You promise him.

“How does Lyon, France sound?” He says with the biggest smirk on his face. “I have two tickets reserving us seats for the final.”

You stare at him in shock. Harry did what. You can’t believe he did this for you.

“Will you were a jersey for me?” That is the first thing out of your mouth.

“Why of course.” He says with a smirk. “Horan, on my back will make everyone go crazy.” You laugh at how cheesy he is.

Lyon here we come.

Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed reading it. Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles story #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #fifa world cup

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loserkusen · 5 years

Text

Gif credit: @holybrandt Bruna feeds us the best content 💙💙

10/10

I’ve had this fic started since September but it’s here loves!!!! Also I combined 2 requests :)

i lov your account and the fact that u write about julian makes me even more happy, can i request a one shot where reader goes to a match to support julian, and he scores or something else happens that makes it all happy!!! thank u

Hey do you write are blurb or something like that today ?😇

Word Count: 1,073

He didn’t show it, but Julian was nervous. The team needed to win. Not only was there pressure from the fans to have a good performance, but there was pressure on Julian to prove himself. Since he obtained the valuable number 10, all eyes landed on him. He played it off at the press conference, choosing to be smart and witty rather than uncertain, but the thoughts he spilled to you at 2am as you held him close showed his true feelings about the change in number.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous either. Your stomach began twisting the moment the teams came out the tunnel and you couldn’t help chewing your bottom lip desperately as soon as the whistle blew. Jannis’ nonchalant attitude and constant mocking of your current state wasn’t helping your nerves either. Your eyes focused on the game, following the ball up and down the pitch. Despite Jannis’ attempts to have you relax, you couldn’t help sitting up a bit straighter whenever Julian had the ball.

The fight for the opener continued for 20 minutes as Germany struggled to find rhythm and Peru looked for chances. The goal came soon enough after that, except it was the opposing team. The exasperated sighs heard around the stadium reflected the frustration of the German supporters. You yourself felt disappointed and slumped back into your seat praying for the team to respond. Play resumed and Germany quickly moved forward looking for an equalizer. In just minutes, the team was up front attempting to break through the defense. Ginter kicked the ball to Kroos who struggled to fight off a defender, but ultimately passed the ball. Julian quickly ran to the ball going forward and waiting just enough to chip it perfectly over the goalie into the net. The crowd broke out in cheers and the guys celebrated the goal. You and Jannis screamed loudly from your seats and managed to catch Julian’s attention for a split second. His eyes shined with joy and relief simultaneously. The smile on your face couldn’t be controlled as your heart fluttered with happiness. He made you unbelievably proud.

Time passed by and soon halftime hit as both teams remained leveled. You sent Julian a quick text congratulating him on his performance so far hoping he would see it while in the dressing room. Jannis left for a bit to get food before the teams returned. Your phone vibrated in your hand distracting you from the mini break you were having. Upon unlocking it, you saw Julian’s emoji-filled contact name pop up on the screen.

‘Hope you’re enjoying the game. I’ll see you afterwards angel.’

The break went by quicker than expected and before you knew it the ball was rolling again. The game remained leveled for most of the second half and to no ones surprise, Julian was subbed out early. Even if you were used to his minimal playing time with the National team, the irritation you felt because of it never subsided. You hatted to admit you lost interest in the match as soon as your blonde boy stepped out the field. Both teams were still fighting for the 3rd goal, but in your eyes the game was already a win. Julian's astonishing performance and critical goal were enough for you. To everyone's relief, Nico's late shot on goal at 85 was sufficient to win the match.

As soon as the whistle blew the seats began to empty, but you stayed seated knowing Julian would take a while to be ready to leave anyways. The remaining fans contributed to the cheerful atmosphere with waiving flags and chants. This widened the smile on your face knowing you wouldn't have to face a dispirited Julian after another disappointing national game. After half an hour, you received a message from Julian signaling you to come down to the locker rooms. You followed Jannis around as you weren't familiar with the Hoffenheim stadium.

Julian stood waiting for the both of you. Jannis walked ahead; however, before reaching your boyfriend, you stopped by to congratulate Kai on his Germany debut. Julian shook his head noticing you were being held back by the enthusiastic 19 year old who’d been talking nonstop since you went up to him. He walked up behind you wrapping his arms around your middle, his face digging into the crook of your neck. Kai made a disgusted face before turning to talk to Jannis who stood besides Julian.

“You forgot about me.” His lips brushed your neck, feeling his smile against your skin. You turned swiftly wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I got distracted!” Your laugh rang out around the emptying lobby.

“Yeah sure. It’s not like I scored a goal and all today anyways.” He tightened his grip on your waist pulling you closer, allowing you to lay your head on his chest. This much PDA was unusual, you blamed his touchiness on the post match euphoria. Still, you weren’t mad about it at all.

“I’m so proud of you baby.” Your voice whispered softly against his shirt. One hand slid up his neck, tugging gently at the short strands of hair. Julian pulled back enough to place his right hand against you cheek. His thumb softly brushing against you skin. Not thinking twice, you leaned forward pulling his head down to press your lips against his smiling ones. The sounds of Jannis and Kai groaning in the background only making Julian pull you in closer. You pulled back smiling pressing a kiss to his cheek reaching for his hand. “Lets go number 10,” your fingers threaded through his, “we have a long way home. Well Kai does, I’m not driving.”

“Wait, what? No!” His complaining continued as you walked to the parking lot in search for the car. “Wait but it’s your car!” All the while you walked with Julian and Jannis laughed at Kai’s misery.

“I drove all the way here Havertz leave me alone.” He continued looking for excuses turning the attention to Jannis who he believed should drive.

“Kai just drive it’s not a big deal. Jannis doesn’t have a license yet and I’m not paying for a ticket if he gets pulled over.” Julian finally responded.

“Why don’t you drive then?”

“Cause I have a girlfriend to nap with in the backseat.” You smiled reaching up kiss the boy you had missed for a week.

#the 2nd request was sent in after a kusen game i believe against bremen?#anyways we smashed a team that day and julian also scored so i figured ill just write this instead of two fics #julian brandt #julian brandt imagine #football imagine #bayer leverkusen #germany nt

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accio-ambition · 6 years

Text

Knowing Little Notes

For those, like me, who are only interested in the Super Bowl for the commercials and the halftime show, I come to you this overly commercialized day with my contribution to @captainswanbigbang‘s CS Little Bang. A super special shout out to @technicallysizzlingcloud for beta-ing this monstrosity and @mrs-emma-swan-jones for a lovely art piece. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t do kids. Or, more accurately, she hasn’t done kids. But when a friend in need asks her to do kids - more specifically teach them - Emma dips her toes into the education field. Her first foray into substitute teaching is for Mr K. Jones, who proves to be a great asset in this whole “learning to teach” thing. It helps Emma understand what her friends get out of the job: that the best life lessons sometimes come from students and a nice little note. Rated: T for language Read it here or on AO3, whatever floats your boat

By trade - if you could call it that - Emma is a bail bondsperson. She chases after skips who’ve failed to pay her back: an irony in the fact that she has nothing, money or otherwise. She’s got an apartment the size of a comfortable closet and enough to eat takeout on occasion. Still, it doesn’t require a college degree that she doesn’t have and it’s active enough for her. It’s great for the lifestyle she leads. She can find a gig in any city, no matter where she might find herself. It’s awesome.

Until it isn’t.

She’s sprained her ankle one too many times and this time around she’s got a broken wrist to accompany with it. Her skip decided to get a little rougher with her than usual, slamming her wrist into a granite counter. She’s lucky it was only her wrist with the heels she was wearing.

Still, a broken wrist means a cast: which means she’s out of the bail bonds game for at least the next two months, probably longer. Her office won’t pay her rent or her bills, to the surprise of no one, and she’s not moving out of the only little square of the world she’s ever been able to call her own.

That’s how she falls into substitute teaching.

Mary Margaret tells her about it one evening soon after Emma gets her cast on, taking on the role of pseudo-mother caring for her healing daughter.

(She even signs the cast, and Emma can’t quite quell the feeling of a little girl excited to have everyone at school sign her cast.)

It’s an easy way to make money, Mary Margaret insists - solid hours, a schedule that changes, yet stays the same and the properly-trained regular teacher comes up with all the plans.

“All you have to do is follow them,” her friend tells her.

She helps Emma cut the plastic bag off her arm after showering all the sweat and hospital grime of her body. A timer goes off in the kitchen, Emma’s rickety oven on the verge of catching fire with the casserole Mary Margaret’s got cooking away in it. With an thrilled little noise, she goes off to check dinner.

(Emma is consistently surprised she isn’t actually Mary Margaret’s child with her husband David. With the way they all act around each other, they might as well be.)

“I don’t know,” Emma shouts into the other room, ripping the remainder of the shopping bag off her arm. “I don’t really do kids.”

“You haven’t really done kids,” Mary Margaret corrects her. The top of her head pokes from around the door jamb to glare at the other woman. “That doesn’t mean you can’t do them.”

She disappears again and Emma can hear the oven door screech open, slam shut, and her friend place whatever was heating up on the stovetop. A drawer opens and Mary Margaret returns to her living room to take the seat next to Emma’s, an empathetic expression on her face.

“Give it a try. I’ll put your name in the system for some coworkers of mine and you can try it out. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it. But at least it’ll get you out of the house.”

“And the money,” Emma adds, pointing a finger down the plane of her face. “Gotta pay rent somehow.”

Mary Margaret’s hand comes to rest on the hand of hers that isn’t wrapped up in plaster. “We can help you out this month if you need it,” she offers. “You just figure yourself out first and then we can deal with everything else.”

“Thanks Mary Margaret.” Sighing, Emma relaxes into the couch cushion, enjoying the delicious smell wafting from the kitchen. Her eyes slide shut for a moment, merely taking in the aroma mixed with the warmth of her seat, and the nice little cocktail of pain meds she’s got in her system right now. When she opens her eyes, Mary Margaret’s expression has morphed into something weirder, like she’s holding back a secret, which she never does.

(She tries, bless her honest heart, but Emma knows from experience that if you share a secret with Mary Margaret, you share a secret with David and all of his work friends, and sooner rather than later, all of Storybrooke knows.)

“You don’t happen to have an ulterior motive, do you?” she asks. Hesitantly, Mary Margaret shakes her head, but her eyes widen and she’s biting her lip and her cheeks are starting to grow red.

She’s lying.

“Mary Margaret,” Emma chides, drawing out the final syllable of her name.

Her friend shrugs. “Well, you need a gig,” she says slowly. “And I’m going to need a long-term sub in the near future.”

Long term? Not that she didn’t already suspect it, but now Emma knew something was off. In all the days and months and years that she’s known Mary Margaret, she’s never known her to skip out on school. She loved those kids as if she had carried and borne them herself, every single one of them. “How near?” Emma asks.

Shrugging, a small grin starts to grow on Mary Margaret’s’ lips. “About five or six months,” she says. That only further confuses Emma. Mary Margaret giggles and slaps her knee. “Oh, did I forget to mention I’m pregnant?”

Emma’s silent with shock, her jaw dropped. She’s not quite sure why: it is the next natural chapter in their story. Both of them would be - will be, she supposes now - wonderful parents. Mary Margaret with the summers off and David as overprotective as he is make the perfect combination. Not to mention they’ve both got so much love, they aren’t sure where to put it.

And she gets to be cool Aunt Emma. All the perks of having a kid with the option of returning him or her to their biological parents.

But her silence apparently lasts too long as Mary Margaret’s expression begins to fall. It seems she’s taken Emma’s moment to process the wrong way. “Look, just try it out,” she insists, her hands coming up between them. “If you don’t like it, I’ll find another sub, but you’re going to love it and you’ll love my class this year. I promise, I don’t trust anyone else but someone close to me with-”

Emma interrupts her unnecessarily hurried words with a hug despite both sets of knees impeding them. “I’m so happy for you,” she says into the fabric of Mary Margaret’s shirt shoulder.

It sounds like Mary Margaret’s crying, or trying not to and failing to do so. She’s making little sobbing-hiccup noises into Emma’s ear.

When they pull away from each other, Emma’s proven right: Mary Margaret’s eyes are red around the rims and she wipes at what may or may not have been full-fledged tears. Emma nods, feeling her smile grow on her face.

“Yeah, I’ll give it a try, but don’t you worry about what comes after.” Taking her hands, Emma squeezes them. “You’re having a baby!”

Mary Margaret nods enthusiastically, still wiping at the remnants of tears. “Yeah.”

“How’d David react?” Emma asks excitedly. If she knows David at all, she knows that his reaction to the news of impending fatherhood would rank high on the list of adorable videos on YouTube.

“Oh, I’ve got a video.” Mary Margaret digs beneath her for her phone, chuckling the entire time. Once she’s unearthed it, she unlocks the phone and hands it over to Emma. “It’s only the latter part of his reaction, but it was wonderful.”

In the video, David’s already kneeling on the ground, his face painfully contorted into something precious, with a little onesie in his hands.

“It’s a Huskies jersey,” Mary Margaret explains. “It’s got Nolan and the number three on the back.”

“That’s too cute,” Emma replies, her eyes still transfixed on the phone screen. It’s sweet, even if the jersey idea is a little cliche for her taste. UConn’s basketball team is David’s favorite, a relic of his glory days of college, and it was the first round of the 2004 NCAA tournament that he met Mary Margaret in a Boston bar. The Huskies went on to win that year, and, rumor has it, David proposed the night they did.

She definitely spots tears rolling down David’s face as Mary Margaret’s recorded giggle comes from the speaker. He keeps asking, “Really? Are you serious? No joke?” and Emma can’t help but feel her own eyes begin to water.

(She blames it on the painkillers, messing with her natural emotional state.)

Thankfully, the video ends, and she has to take a moment to collect herself before turning back to her friend. During her life, Emma’s friends have been few and far between, but since the moment she accidentally spilled coffee on Mary Margaret’s skirt while running after a skip, she’s known the woman’s heart was two sizes too big. Her reaction had been to worry about Emma and her hand drenched in scalding coffee over the fabric dripping down her legs and the stain ruining it.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother, Mary Margaret.”

Mary Margaret’s smile is watery, her eyes shining with joy. “I have as much confidence in you as you have in me,” she assures Emma. With a final pat to her hand, she stands and begins to pack up her things. “You need to rest now. I’ll text you the details of a job and you can ask all your questions later.” She points toward the kitchen. “Dinner should be cool and ready to eat in five minutes. Just throw some tin foil on top and put it in the fridge when you’re done.”

Emma hums, the thought of sleep quite inviting, as she settles into the couch cushions. “Thanks, Mom,” she mumbles. “Congratulations.”

0000

Of course, the classroom door is locked when Emma finally finds it, which forces her to wander about even longer until she discovers the front office again. When the custodian graciously opens the door and flips on the lights, she’s only got about fifteen minutes until first bell.

“Great,” she mumbles to herself. “Off to a great start.”

She’s still got the cast on her wrist, weeks one through four checked off on her road to recovery. At her last visit, the doctor told her things were looking good, but due to her age, the bones were resetting slower than normal.

(That’s something every late 20s, early 30s woman wants to hear. “You’re too old for your bone to move like they used to, so hope you like not being able to wash your hands properly.”)

But for now, Emma’s got her first gig as a substitute teacher to tackle. Hopefully more in the psychological and mental aspects and not so much in the physical one. According to the text Mary Margaret sent her last week, she’s subbing in on a fifth grade class today.

Better for novice subs, she wrote. They’re pretty smart and they know how to use the bathroom by themselves.

Didn’t know that was an issue I might be facing, Emma responded, but awesome.

As Mary Margaret had informed her, the teacher’s left the lesson plans on his desk, front and center, an array of worksheets and handouts surrounding it. This teacher, a Mr Jones, has labeled every pile with the period it had to be handed out with a sticky note. It was all so precise, she can’t quite believe that this man is a teacher and not the commander of an army. If she was a more ambitious and less anxious person at the moment, she might pull out a ruler and measure exactly how far apart each pile is from the other.

(She’s willing to bet it’s equivalent all the way around.)

Granted, she thinks as she quickly skims the plans and shuffles the piles around, keeping order in a classroom might be worse than any war zone at certain times.

She reaches the end of her agenda for the day and finds a handwritten note added after the typed postscript asking for notes throughout the day.

‘Many thanks for helping a dashing rapscallion out. Mary Margaret spoke quite highly of you. They’re good kids. You’ll do wonderfully. K. Jones.’

Emma sighs and slumps down into the rolling chair behind his desk. “Well at least he’s confident enough for the both of us,” she grumbles to herself.

Flicking her eyes to her watch, she finds she’s still got a few minutes. She breathes deeply, mentally giving herself a pep talk while taking in the rest of the room. What looks like a reading nook - bookshelves and small bean bags - crowds the corner next to her. Cabinets and closets line the other side of the room until they reach the door diagonal to her current seat. There’s a question of the day written on the board, awaiting students to answer it in order to inform her of their attendance. Each clustered table of desks has a sign dangled over it, what look game pieces from Battleship, if Emma’s not mistaken.

In front of her, it’s a surprisingly clean desk, save for the teaching supplies K. Jones has left out for her. A pencil holder with a few writing utensils and some scissors is the only teacher-like decoration - the only decoration at all, save for two framed photos. One of the frames holds the picture of a boat and the other is of two men on what’s presumably the same boat. They’ve both got dark hair, one more so than the other. They’re both quite handsome, with striking blue eyes and wide grins across their faces.

The mess of the maniac - whether K. Jones be the curly haired one or the black haired one in the photo - is behind the desk: piles of papers and trays, books and clipboards. How anyone could find a single thing in that mess, Emma decides as she stands, is a fucking miracle. She doesn’t even want to contemplate that part of teaching, the grading and commenting and whatever.

She’s writing her name toward the top of the chalkboard when she hears “Who are you?” from behind her. Emma turns to find a boy, backpack heavy and jacket nearly swallowing him up, standing in the doorway.

“Are you our substitute?” he asks.

Emma nods, gulping away her nerves. “Yeah.” Her voice wavers, so she clears her throat and tries again. “Yeah, Mr Jones is out today. I’m Ms Swan.”

The kid walks up to a desk at the cluster of tables beneath the aircraft carrier sign, close to the front, and sets his backpack on top. “Cool.” He says it so nonchalantly that Emma wonders if she was that calm and collected when she had a substitute at school. She remembers bits and pieces of elementary school, most memories tainted by bad group homes or unworthy foster parents. To be honest, thinking back on it now, Emma’s pretty sure she spent most of her grade school days daydreaming in fairy tales.

The zip of the boy’s backpack wakes her up a little bit, and Emma shakes her head. As he’s putting books and journals in his desk, he asks, “Are we gonna watch movies all day?”

Emma chuckles, setting the chalk down on the blackboard shelf. “Sorry, kid, but Mr Jones actually left us a bunch of stuff to do.” He groans, the arms of his jacket shushing as his shoulders slump. “Don’t worry, there’s a game or two, I think,” she assures him. The boy goes on, grumbling to himself as he hangs up his jacket and backpack. Curiosity strikes her as she shoots another glance at the classroom clock. “What are you doing here? I didn’t hear the bell ring.”

“My mom’s the principal, so we come in early and I go and count the buses.” He pushes his chair in beneath his desk, then comes up to her with an outstretched hand. “I’m Henry.”

“Oh, cool,” she says, very adultlike and not at all frightened by the fact that the principal’s son is in her class today. “Hi.”

He stares, assessing her with his wide brown eyes. Henry squints at her and Emma can’t help but try and swallow away the lump that’s gotten stuck in her throat. “You’re a new substitute, aren’t you?” he inquires slowly.

Guilty, Emma grimaces. “Is it that easy to tell?”

Henry shrugs, finally releasing her hand. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” He points toward a couple of desks in the back of the room, near the reading corner. “These kids are going to give you the most trouble, but if you threaten them with walking the plank, they usually hush.”

“Walking the plank?” she asks, confusion coloring her voice. It sounds like a reprimanding tactic, but she would have thought that something like a plank to be walked across should’ve been mentioned in the lesson plan.

(Not to mention it sounds kind of humiliating. While Emma wouldn’t have put it past the administration back in her schooling days, it sounds a little too corporal punishment-y for the school system Mary Margaret has described.)

“It’s basically a detention. Mr Jones sends someone to the lunchroom to sit with Lunch Lady Cora.” He turns back to her, lifting his hand up to hide his mouth from the side. Dramatically, Henry whispers, “Sometimes, the kids come back crying.”

“What? Is he allowed to do that?”

“Mhm,” Henry hums with a nod. “They usually just help count the lunch money or clean the lunch trays, but Cora is not a nice lady.”

Emma scoffs and goes to stand by Mr Jones’ desk. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

She jumps a bit when Henry pats her on the arm. “You’re going to do great, Ms Swan. I believe in you,” he tells her.

As silly as it may seem, one of her temporary students having such innocent confidence in her does make her heartbeat slow just a tad and her nerves settle. Plus, it bodes well for how she deals with kids.

(Maybe Mary Margaret is right; maybe she just hasn’t had the opportunity to do this child caring thing.)

“Thanks, Henry,” she says quietly. “That really means a lot.”

He smiles. “Well, I’ve got to get to work. I’ll be back before the morning announcements.”

“Alright,” she says with a sigh. “Be good.”

Nodding, Henry salutes her. “Yes ma'am.”

As Henry leaves the classroom, the morning bell rings. He’ll have to fight against the stream of kids heading to their rooms, chatting about last night’s football game, or the pros and cons of certain Pokemon.

(That’s something kids talk about, right?)

In the few precious moments of solitude she has left, Emma takes another deep breath.

“Here goes nothing,” she murmurs.

0000

She sits down at the teacher’s desk after seeing the students off to their busses. Heels were a poor choice today and she’s got the start of a migraine brewing behind her eyelids.

Despite all that, Emma hasn’t felt so accomplished in a long time. Even before she spent the last month sitting on her couch, watching Netflix and trying to avoid the unscratchable itch on her forearm. While the bail bonds business was always booming, the rush of adrenaline attained by catching a skip was nothing compared to the camaraderie and naivete an elementary school supplied her with in one day.

For the moment, Emma slides her feet from her shoes, letting the blood flow back to the places where the nerves have been pinched for the majority of the day. Sighing, she reads over the handwriting scrawled across the bottom of the lesson plan again. Then she flips the little packet over. She contemplates what to write - whether to tell him that Henry was a great asset and helper today, how far they got in the science lesson, and the like - but she settles on the simplest of comments.

‘You’re right: they’re great kids. I’d be happy to come back. E. Swan.’

And it feels right, scribbling that out at the bottom of the page. But then she feels a little guilty, not leaving details about their lesson on photosynthesis, or that his math class managed to trick her into playing Jeopardy the entire time; so Emma goes back and leaves some notations along the side of Mr Jones’ outline. Little things, nothing extensive, but it is her first time subbing. How is she supposed to know what to do?

When Emma feels that all is said and done, she packs up her purse, straightens up the piles of papers, and heads back into the empty hallway, the room darkening behind her. Her heels are back on, their click-clacks slow and measured now that her feet ache and she doesn’t have to walk from desk to desk explaining certain questions.

“So?” The voice comes from ahead of her, raising in question. Mary Margaret’s locking up her own classroom, two bags hanging from her shoulder with another one on the ground beneath her feet. Despite being busy with her own class, Mary Margaret made sure to check up on Emma during her planning period. She’s got a smile on her face right now, shouldering her third bag as she asks more leadingly: “How’d it go?”

Emma laughs, giving up the battle with her heels. When she meets up with her friend, she leans against the wall and takes her shoes off until the coolness of the linoleum soothes her feet. “It all makes sense now,” she says.

Mary Margaret chuckles, hitching her bags up higher. “And what, exactly, does that mean?”

Taking pity on her friend, Emma grabs one of the bags from her hand and throws it over her own shoulder.

She ponders over her words before responding. “You always tell me how tired you are and how your feet hurt and I never understood because I thought you spent all day playing Legos with a bunch of kids,” she explains. “But now I get it.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” Together, they walk - or stumble, more suitably for Emma - down the hall, bidding goodbye to other teachers and staff members as they make their ways outside.

With a sigh, Emma’s forced to take a seat inside the front office to don her shoes once more.

“So?” Mary Margaret asks, pushing open the front door.

The afternoon sun burns Emma’s eyes after a day spent indoors under artificial light, and that along with her friend’s hanging question cause her to grunt.

Mary Margaret sighs and nudges her arm. “Did you like it? Can I count on you to sub for me?”

Her immediate answer is no - it goes unspoken, but Emma’s first response is always to avoid change. Especially change that might benefit her. She’s been a runner all her life, which made bail bonds a wonderful option from her. She could pick up and move, find other skips to chase in any city in and state, no matter what problem she might have been running from at the time: relationships, dreams, emotional trauma, just to name a few.

But this is Mary Margaret, her closest friend in the world, one of two people she’d do anything for. And she did have a wonderful time today. Her comment to Mr Jones was the furthest thing from a lie, surprisingly enough.

When they reach their cars, Emma takes a deep breath and turns to her friend. “I’ll do it,” she says, confident grin across her face. “It was great. So when little Emmett comes, I’ll sub for you.”

Furrowing her brows, Mary Margaret repeats, “Emmett?”

“Well, it kind of seems like you guys are set on a little dude and you’re obviously going to name him after the most important person in your life,” she reasons, smile growing wider.

“My husband?” she says. “My father, or his?”

Emma scoffs, opening the driver’s door with a flourish. Brushing her hair off her shoulder, she says, “Me, obviously.”

“Of course.” Mary Margaret comes over and hugs Emma, squeezing her a little tighter than considered normal. “How could I be so obtuse?”

“It’s okay,” Emma says, patting her on the back. “You’ve obviously got a bad case of pregnancy brain.”

That earns Emma a slap to the shoulder, and chuckles break from her mouth before she can stop them.

“It’s not that bad,” Mary Margaret complains, her voice high and on the edge of whining. Her hand falls to her stomach, just a hint of a bump there, easily mistaken for a food baby or even a trick of the light.

“Not yet,” Emma corrects her. “But if pop culture is to be believed, the worst is yet to come.”

0000

Emma’s enjoying the bright and warm sunshine as she steps outside of the doctor’s office when her phone rings.

“So much for nice things,” she grumbles.

Fishing her phone out of her bag with her new cast around her wrist, Emma sighs when she reads the caller ID. As much as she loves the woman, Mary Margaret has been beginning to get on her nerves in the last couple of weeks. She calls every couple of hours, asking her if she’d be okay with doing this when she’s out because the rest of her team wants to do it or if she wants to take over for so-and-so who’s got an emergency root canal in the morning. And that’s only the school-related calls. The other ones are pregnancy scares or new things she learned while researching during lunch.

She’s a mess, in Emma’s opinion. A big happy mess.

So when her friend calls on her afternoon off, Emma picks up, no matter how much she wants to just ignore it, go home, and nap on the couch until dinner.

“What’s up?” Emma greets, walking up to her Bug and leaning against it.

“What are you doing Thursday?” Mary Margaret’s words are said without preamble, as if this were a major emergency.

(It better be for something good. There is precious nap time to be spent on the couch.)

“Umm, nothing, I don’t think,” Emma replies. “Why?”

There’s some shuffling on the other end of the line, as if Mary Margaret is moving quickly or trying to hide her voice. “I ran into Mr Jones in the hallway and he’s had something come up suddenly,” she explains. “Asked if you were available to sub for him.”

“Oh.” She can’t say she wasn’t expecting this, but Emma is still kind of surprised. A person with absolutely no training in the field is a little - she doesn’t want to say unwise seeing as she’s benefitting from it, but that’s the only word she can think of at the moment. But it’s nice to know that she did something right the first time around. “Sure. Yeah, I can do that,” she finally decides.

On the other side of the line, Mary Margaret makes some little whooping news. “Great, I’ll let him know,” she says. “Would you like me to pass on your number so he can contact you directly next time?”

“No!” Emma yells, unintentionally scaring the man three cars down trying to load groceries in the trunk. “No, I don’t even know the man. That can’t be protocol or something. Tell him to leave any more dates he knows with his plans and I’ll get back to him.”

Mary Margaret hums in agreement, her tone a little different when she says, “Okay.”

“Thanks, Mary Margaret,” Emma offers, opening the car door. “I just got out from the doctors’, so thank you for calling me, but I need to get home before I pass out behind the wheel.”

“Oh! Of course!” And with a quick farewell, Mary Margaret’s back to work and Emma’s on her way home.

0000

This time, Mr Jones’ door is unlocked when Emma makes her way in to school Thursday morning. She’s feeling a little more comfortable with the whole situation, having already gotten over those first time jitters. These kids know her a little better now, and she’d like to think - or maybe hope is the correct terminology - that she has no qualms in making them walk the plank if they act out of order today.

Just as before, Emma finds a pile of materials on the otherwise clean desk. She sets down her bag atop the mess behind the desk, slightly more organized than it was the last time she subbed, and begins to read the lesson plans Mr Jones left behind, adorn with a handwritten note at the top.

‘Ms Swan - or who I hope is Ms Swan.’

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, seeing her name scrawled across the top of the page in this elegant script. He specifically asked Mary Margaret to contact her and his students had to have mentioned her name. But still, something happens inside her when she reads the greeting of his note.

‘Thank you for coming in again. You seem to have made quite the impression on my class, for they asked for you by name,” his note goes on to say. “I consider myself a strong man, but when 23 fifth graders plead with their best puppy dog eyes, I am weak-willed and hopeless.’

The image she conjures up is of the men staring at her from the picture on the desk, all bravado and masculinity, going to complete puddy at those kids’ request. It does something weird to her stomach, makes it flip and contort into an unusual shape, not unlike how reading her own name in his writing did.

His note easily leads into today’s lessons - fractions in math, harms of smoking during health, nothing she doesn’t think she can’t handle - before signing off as he did before: ‘You’ll do wonderfully. K. Jones.’

There are many things in life that Emma considers luxuries that some of these kids wouldn’t. She never had any guardians that were so flawless and incredibly confident in her as Henry’s mother. She never really had parents at all: the first time Emma felt like someone actually cared about her was when she met Mary Margaret and David.

And now, Mr Jones seems to believe in her as well.

“Ms Swan!” Looking up from the notes, Emma’s pleased to find Henry standing in the doorway, his backpack dragging on the ground. “You’re back!”

Emma can’t help the wide smile that crosses her face at his sentiments. “Yeah, kid. I’m back.”

And surprising her even further, Henry jogs across the room, dropping his bag near the front before embracing her tightly. Tentatively, she pats his back, her hand coming to cradle the base of his head.

“Well, this is a very nice welcome back,” she says.

Henry steps back, a little breathless. “I’ve got to count the buses, but I’m really excited that Mr Jones asked you to come back.” He’s gone as quick as he’s come, leaving Emma to chuckle to herself. She takes a seat at the teacher’s desk, grabbing a pen from the supplies holder, ready to write down today’s first note.

“Mr Jones,” she writes, mumbling to herself. “I was honored to hear that your kids wanted me back. I really enjoyed them the first time around and I’m sure I will even more so this time. I’m afraid if I keep coming back, they’ll get the best of me and prove me wrong.” Sticking her tongue out, Emma debates writing the next words, but decides she really has nothing to lose. “But thanks for your bid of confidence. I don’t think I can actually explain to you how much that means to me.”

The bell rings, the sound of kids on their way to class start echoing through the hall, and the school day is off to a rousing start for Emma.

Homeroom bleeds into social studies which bleeds into math. It’s been a while since she’s had the opportunity to do anything with fractions besides try to suss out whether she’s consumed a legitimate half bottle of wine in any one sitting. But going over it in pizzas - something that hasn’t changed since she was in school - opens her eyes and does make simple math a little more welcoming.

Mr Jones left behind a worksheet to cement the information in their fifth grade brains, and after Emma explains it, she claps her hands.

“When you guys are finished, you can do something quietly,” she adds, rolling her wrists. “Read, take a nap, doodle, whatever. Just stay quiet.”

As she takes a seat at her desk, the scritching of pencils overtakes the room. Mumblings of math questions asked to neighbors die off into silence as the students start, focus, and finish up their work. Always a bit paranoid of what’s to come and making sure she has enough time to get through everything she needs to, Emma flips through the lesson plans again. This time around, she notices that, as she told Mary Margaret to pass along, Mr Jones has included a few more days he’d request her services. She joins the chorus of busy pencils by writing down the days he’s asked her to come in in her planner.

(She bought a planner for this whole endeavor and, damn, does it make her feel professional.)

Just as she’s penciling in the penultimate date, Henry clears his throat on the other side of the desk. When she looks up, he hands her the piece of paper he’s got in hand.

“Are you done already?” she asks.

“Yeah, but this isn’t that.” Henry shakes it a bit. “Take it. I drew you something.”

“Really?” Emma’s never had anything drawn for her. Granted, she’s never really spent enough time with children to give them the opportunity. Still, she’s oddly honored. “Well, let’s see it.”

Taking the paper from his hand, Emma looks at it all. He’s obviously put a lot of work in to it, whipping out the crayons and even signing his name at the bottom in his best attempt at cursive. It’s a drawing with a house and some pretty good stick people, and Emma considers herself to be a stick people connoisseur.

“It’s lovely, Henry,” she tells him, meaning every one of those three words.

“Good.” She sets it on the desk, trying to take in all the little things he’s included. The house has a chimney with smoke billowing out of it. It even looks like there’s city skyline in the background.

(How he managed to do all this work and finish his math worksheet in the allotted amount of time has to be a trick of magic.)

Henry points to the figures, standing in front of the house. “This is you, of course,” he explains. “You can tell by the blonde hair and the red jacket.”

She chuckles at that. “That’s what I was thinking. It’s cool that you noticed I always wear that jacket.”

Shrugging, Henry merely says, “It’s very hard to miss.” And then he gestures to the other figure, standing beside her little stick on the paper. “And this is Mr Jones.”

“Oh.” She can see it. The dark hair and what looks like equally as dark clothes on his stick could easily be the men in the photo on Mr Jones’ desk. Henry’s depiction makes it seem like his teacher has curly hair, making Emma believe she’s finally discovered which man in the picture is actually Mr Jones. “And what are we doing?” she asks.

“You guys are going home.”

“Yeah?” The one thing that Mary Margaret told her before becoming a substitute was the innocence Emma would encounter in the school. When she was a child, Emma remembers believing that teachers lived and slept at school as well. But Henry’s a smart kid - surely his mother would’ve explained that teachers don’t all live together, especially not in the school building. “You know me and Mr Jones don’t live together, right? We have different homes.”

“I know,” he assures her. “But I think you would be happy having the same home.”

Emma mulls over his comment as Henry makes his way back to his desk. She thinks about it even harder when she comes in a couple days later - at this rate, she’s concerned about whether or not Mr Jones is trying to get himself fired. It seems like she’s spending more time teaching his class than he is and that has to be a liability of some sort - and finds a line in his customary note that doesn’t necessarily shock her, but does mildly surprise her.

‘Please, love. The only time you need refer to me as Mr Jones is around the children. Otherwise, please call me Killian.’

Oh, she thinks, taking a seat on Mr Jones’ chair.

“Killian,” she corrects herself aloud.

The only other person she calls by first name in this school is Mary Margaret, but that’s because she’s Mary Margaret. And Lunch Lady Cora, Emma supposes, but that’s because at this point, she’s convinced the food service manager doesn’t have a last name. Everyone, even principal Regina Mills, calls her Lunch Lady Cora.

But now there’s Mr Jones - Killian.

Now this is an interesting development.

(Maybe Mr Jones and she could be happy in the same home.)

0000

Though Storybrooke Elementary’s environment is quickly becoming her home turf, there are days where no one - not even Mr Jones, the enigma himself - needs a substitute. And though her wrist is nearly healed completely, Emma’s told her boss she’s taking a little bit of time for herself, exploring other options, something prophetic like that.

That being said, there were still bills to be paid and food to be eaten. Christmas presents to save up for that weren’t going to pay for themselves. So she expands her horizons: reaching out to other local schools in the district, picking up the odd jobs here and there, but always more than happy to come back to her Storybrooke home away from home.

It makes her days at the elementary school - especially with Mr Jones’ class - all the more precious and enjoyable.

She’s pulling double duty one day in January, the morning as Mr Jones while he, apparently, attends to his brother during a bad bout of illness, and the afternoon in the art room. In his plans, Mr Jones - Killian - said he would be back in time for him to escort the students down to the lunch room. Emma’s got them all lined up, ready and quiet for him, but he’s late. And she’s hungry.

Luckily, Emma spots Mary Margaret down the hallway, her belly proceeding her in every direction she turns and action she takes. Close to frantically, Emma waves her over.

“Are you going somewhere important right now?” Emma asks.

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “I was going to see if the vending machine in the lounge had any Cheetos,” she replies.

Emma sighs with relief. “Would you mind watching Jones’ class until he gets here? He’s running late and I’ve got other plans to familiarize myself with. I can bring some Chee - “

“No, Ms Swan, you have to stay for just a little while longer!” some of the kids whine. They’re getting restless, discussion striking up over the entirety of the line. They’ve been good all morning, so it’s sort of unsettling that they’ve decided to act up now as their teacher could literally be walking down the hall for them.

“Why?” Emma asks of the children. Their line is no longer straight and neat; instead, it zig zags, with a few kids here and there straying to the side of their peers to watch her. “What are you kids up to?”

She’s seen their innocent faces before, when she’s spoken to them about a project they were supposed to have previous information on and didn’t. These farces of faces are nowhere close to those looks. “Nothing, we just don’t want you to leave,” the general class mumbles.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” she tells them, taking a step further away from the classroom and closer to the fridge that holds last night’s leftovers-turned-lunch. “My time with you guys is up today and I’ve got to go grab some lunch before I have to be Mr Jefferson down in the art room.”

“You can’t!” Henry yells finally. He’s right on the other side of Mary Margaret, taking this week’s assigned job of line leader very seriously. Everyone’s sort of stunned into silence, children and adults alike. “Mr Jones is coming back,” he says in place of an explanation.

“I know,” Emma responds slowly, trying not to show her frustration just as her stomach rumbles. “That’s why I’m leaving.”

“No,” Henry grouses. “Ms Swan, you’ve really got to meet him.”

“I will, one day.” She can feel her expression soften. Though these kids can’t see inside her mind - thank god - but she gets the feeling. For planting himself so solidly in a place in her life, it is a bit of a shame that she and Mr Jones never met in person, only talked through Mary Margaret or his lesson plans. “But right now, I need to eat,” she says gently, her stomach growling quite audibly, further accentuating her point. “Now, be good for Mrs Nolan until Mr Jones comes. Then you can moan and groan to your hearts’ content.” Giving them a smile, Emma sets her hand on her friend’s shoulder and squeezes. “Thanks, Mary Margaret.”

She tries to hide her laughter, one hand covering her grin and the other resting on her stomach. “No problem,” she says, waving her off. “Go eat.”

Emma’s halfway to the lounge, Mary Margaret barely in sight, when she shouts back, “I’ll get you the Cheetos, I promise!”

0000

In the months that she’s been substituting, Emma’s learned quite a lot. She’s learned the basics of each grades’ curriculum, the generic schedule of the day, and most of the names of the rest of the staff.

(She’s pretty impressed with herself.)

(She’s also learned a lot more about the man who’s chair she often sits in while watching his class. And he writes like he’s got a stick up his ass, but in that whole Jane Austen, kind of romantic way.)

(Her heart speeds up every time she reads his customary last line - you’ll do wonderfully. K. Jones - even if she doesn’t admit it aloud or to herself.)

But the hardest lesson she’s learned during her time is that even the best situations come to a harsh head at some point in time. On a late winter day, something has ruined the feng shui or the status quo or whatever else you might want to call the vibe Jones’ class has managed to pull off every time Emma’s come in to sub. Today was a shitshow, and that’s putting it lightly.

From the moment Henry walked in this morning, already running behind and in a grumpy mood because his mother wouldn’t allow him to go to a sleepover later that night, Emma knew it was going to be a bad day. It was gray and rainy outside, her shoes were soaked through, and something just felt off.

It only went downhill from there.

Lily threw up in the classroom sink, setting off commiserative vomiting from Austin and Camille. Though the custodian tried to clean it up while the classroom was empty, the smell lingered, making it the only thing Jones’s kids would talk about for the rest of the day. Every sentence example, math problem, anything, had to do with puke.

It made Emma not only feel crappier than she’d been feeling earlier, but it all made her feel nauseous herself, as well as develop a headache. When she realizes two and a half hours are still left in the school day, it takes incredible effort not to collapse in Killian’s chair and break down.

After drudging back in from the pouring rain that greeted her at dismissal time, Emma is a step and a half away from murdering the next person who speaks to her. She needs to punch something or scream, anything to rid herself of this frustration and anger making her vision red. She should use this mood to fuel a gym workout, but she knows she’ll barely make it to the liquor store before going back to her place and drinking it all, whatever it is, in one sitting.

She takes a moment to collect herself, taking some deep breaths at Killian’s desk, his lesson plans staring up at her. She has to write the day’s notes and, as she’s been since the start, Emma’s going to be honest.

Completely foregoing her customary greeting, Emma gets to the point. ‘I take it all back. Your kids are little shits.’ Solid start, she thinks to herself.

Her anger floods out of her without any real permission. ‘God, I don’t know what happened to them, but I wanted to strangle them all, and I know I shouldn’t be telling you this because you love them and they love you, you’re their captain and they’re your crew but they’re all little shits. And I know that was a run on sentence BUT THAT’S HOW FRUSTRATED I AM.’ Hand beginning to cramp, Emma leans on the back fo the chair and sighs.

During her past gigs, she’s sometimes held back the darker parts of the day - if they didn’t get to a certain activity or if she had to send someone to detention - because, overall, his class was wonderful. She thought so, especially after visiting other school with classes not nearly as tame.

Today was just too much, though. Putting pen back to paper, Emma begins again. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be writing this down, but I’ve got no other way to tell you. And I wanted to tell you, but not in a tattle tale sort of way.’ She sighs again, her frustration nearly drained away now. ‘I really do like your kids and I know that everyone has bad days, but the chances that all 23 of them were having a bad day on the same day are odds practically worth playing the lottery on.’

Mary Margaret knocks on the door, asking her if she’s ready to head home yet, and Emma quickly ends her note with her signature. Packing up her stuff, she debates telling her friend about the circus she was ringmaster of today, but she doesn’t.

(If she doesn’t tell him that she feels like he’d understand her feelings better than Mary Margaret or any of the other teachers, that’s her business.

And his, if he wants it to be.)

0000

For some reason, spring in an elementary school is a better place. Not that there’s any scientific proof that accompanies Emma’s conclusion, but she can safely say that she hasn’t experienced a spring like this one. The kids are happier, especially since they can start going back outside for recess after the horrible winter. The teachers are excited to see the end of the school year in sight.

There’s one thing specifically that makes this spring the best one yet, though.

Once again, she’s subbing for Mr Jones on a Thursday. His excuse is that he’s cashing in some vacation days to clean up his ship before he and his brother take out it out on the waters for the first time in the season.

(The vacation time this man has saved up…honestly, he must’ve worked for fifteen years straight to earn this much time off.)

But if it weren’t for him, Emma wouldn’t feel nearly as prepared to take over for Mary Margaret when her time comes. Her due date fast approaches, but the devoted teacher she is, Mary Margaret has insisted on working until the baby pops out of her. She’s big as a small whale, not that Emma would ever tell her that, and it’s beginning to wear on her. She gets grumpy a lot easier than Emma thought she’d ever see and every time Emma runs into her, Mary Margaret is grumbling and complaining for the baby to get out.

Emma’s eating lunch in the teachers’ lounge, her sandwich halfway to her mouth, when Mary Margaret finds her, face red and eyes wide.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Emma asks, setting her sandwich down and dusting off her hands. She knows Mary Margaret’s due date is this week or next, and her all last night about killing feet was an unforgettable rant Emma could never unhear.

Mary Margaret leans against the back of a chair in front of her, her breathing a little heavy.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she inquiries.

Brows furrowing in confusion and concern, Emma says, “Um, I’ve got a gig at Fairy Forest Elemen-”

“Cancel it.” Mary Margaret closes her eyes and takes a deep breath through her nose. “Your long-term sub starts now.”

“Now?” Emma can’t help but repeat her friend’s words. Mary Margaret’s still here, how can Emma sub for her unless -

Then everything clicks. “Mary Margaret, are you in labor?” she asks gently.

Mary Margaret nods her head. “It’s gotten really bad in the last half hour, but the kids are in art class now.” Pausing again to catch her breath and, Emma can only assume, survive another contraction. “Regina can find someone to cover me for the afternoon, but it’s all you tomorrow.”

Emma chuckles hysterically, head falling back. “The last thing you should be worried about is me,” she says, packing up the rest of her lunch. She’s had enough to last her. Emma’s foremost concern right now is the woman across the table. “Is David coming for you? Can you drive? I can take you to the hospital, I’ll ask Kathryn to cover for me.”

But Mary Margaret waves her off. “David’s going to meet me at the hospital. I can drive myself there.”

“Oh, hell no, not on my watch.” Throwing her trash in the bin, Emma comes around the table. She turns Mary Margaret toward her, trying to be as comforting as the woman’s always been for her as she leans against Emma. “Grab your stuff from the classroom and meet me in the front office. I’ll tell them what’s going on.”

Mary Margaret nods before leaning her head against Emma’s collarbone. Emma can feel her stuttered breathing on her skin, and all she can think to do is rub her friend’s back. “Everything’s going to be great. You and David are the only people I know who are already the best parents in eh world.”

“You think so?” Mary Margaret whimpers.

“I know so.” Carefully, Emma pushes Mary Margaret up. Her friend’s got tears in her eyes, welling up from red-rimmed lids. Emma couldn’t begin to contemplate whether those are from excruciating pain or bubbling emotions. With a watery smile of her own, Emma cups Mary Margaret’s cheek. “We’ve got a hospital to go to. Let’s not fuck around.”

That makes Mary Margaret laugh, tears spilling over. “An elementary school, Emma,” she reminds her. “We’re in an elementary school.”

“I’ve heard much more creative and worse things from the second graders,” Emma jokes. “C’mon.”

Emma escorts Mary Margaret to her classroom and leaves to deal with her own situation. She all but jogs back to Killian’s room and throws her belongings in her bag. Swiftly, she sits down and scrawls out her own note on the back of the lesson plans.

‘Mr Jones,’ but then Emma scribbles that out because her best friends is having a baby and there are just as many emotions coursing through her body as in Mary Margaret’s, and writes ‘Killian.

‘I’m really really sorry, but I had to leave early. Mary Margaret’s in labor and she was going to drive herself to the hospital and you and I both know I wasn’t going to let that happen. Kathryn Griffith’s gonna take over for the rest of the day, I think.’ She should probably cement that plan before leaving school premises. ‘Please apologize to the kids for me. I couldn’t wait to play Jeopardy with them. Just, you know…’

Emma doesn’t really know how to end that sentence. She’s never met this guy in person, but he and his class have become such a huge part of her life that leaving like this is a bit of a shame. Just, such a lackluster ending to this adventure.

There isn’t time to find the right words, or even time for the struggle. She quickly ends her note with, ‘I’ll be around for a while, so if they want to visit Mrs Nolan’s room, they’re more than welcome. Thanks.’

And then, because she’s already in a weird sentimental mood, Emma smiles as she writes out, You can visit, too, if you need some pointers. I know you haven’t been here in a while, but don’t worry: you’ll do wonderfully.”

She tidies up the desk, making sure the plans are front and center for whoever takes her place this afternoon, before she grabs her stuff and whisks down to the front office. Just as she’s turning the corner - she can literally see one of the secretaries easing Mary Margaret into a chair through the window - Emma literally bumps into Henry, on his way back to the cafeteria from a hop to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his little face scrunched up in confusion.

Emma stops her stride long enough to explain, “Mrs Nolan’s having her baby and I have to drive her to the hospital.” She pats him on the head before kneeling down to his level. “I’m not going to be in for Mr Jones anymore, but I want you to tell your whole class I’m sorry, but they can come visit me.” She raises her brows to accentuate her point. “Okay?”

Henry nods in understanding. “Go. Babies don’t wait for a long time.”

Laughing aloud, Emma pulls Henry in for a quick hug. “You are wise beyond your years, Henry Mills,” she compliments. “Get back to lunch.”

With a last grin, Henry waves and heads back to the cafeteria while Emma makes her way to the front office. She enters with a smile and a clap of her hands. Looking at Mary Margaret, she tries to put as much excitement into her voice as she can.

(It’s really not that hard to do. It’s a very exciting time.)

“Alright, let’s go have a baby!”

0000

Little Robbie Nolan has the charm of his father and the sweetness of his mother. Barely a couple hours old, Emma finds herself already head-over-heels in love with the infant. When Mary Margaret gifted her a newborn photo, it immediately finds a permanent home in Emma’s wallet. A blown up copy of it hangs on the blackboard of Mrs Nolan’s classroom, much to the pleasure of her students.

It’s not too difficult to transition from teaching Jones’ fifth grade class to the Mary Margaret’s third grade class. It helps that Emma’s been around the curriculum before and, despite being on maternity leave, Mary Margaret is more than willing to help her write out lesson plans.

(They’re such a bitch, lesson plans. Even with professional training, Mary Margaret admits they suck, which means they suck even more for an amateur like Emma.)

Other than that, Emma’s first foray into long-term teaching is off to a resounding start. It doesn’t hurt that she gets to drop by and see the proud parents and their sweet son whenever she’s got the time after school.

(Her phone background may or may not be a picture of him sleeping in her arms. She’s got absolutely no shame. He’s just so stinking cute.)

One morning, Emma hears the classroom door open while her back is turned, writing the current math problem on the board. She continues to ignore the visitor because, if she’s learned anything in the last couple months, it’s not to let anything or anyone interrupt her train of thought in the middle of a lesson. If it’s that important, they can send an email or still wait until she writes an equal sign.

“Alright, I’ll give you a couple minutes to figure out the answer to this one,” she tells the class, finally turning around to face them. “Remember what we’re learning today. Find the answer using exponents, not the calculator.”

With a clap of her hands, the gentle hum of pencils scratching out figures and students whispering to their neighbors take over the classroom. Only then does Emma turn her attention to the man in the back of the classroom.

He’s sitting against the ledge, his legs stretched out and his arms crossed over his chest. There’s something about him that keeps Emma from immediately throwing him into the hallway. There’s a silly kind of smile on his face, his head tilted to one side as if he’s taking his time in assessing her.

It’s unnerving. She knows she was never formally educated in teaching, but she’s learned a lot, she’s comfortable with what she’s teaching, who is this guy to judge her?

Emma makes her way around the tables, checking how some of the more troublesome students are doing and making sure some of the more distracted kids keep to their assignment, and all the while this strange man stares at her. When she finally gets to the back of the classroom, she stands directly in front of him.

“Can I help you?” she asks sternly.

The man’s tongue peeks out from between his grinning lips. “Not particularly, love.” Though the tone of his voice matches his looks, the accent throws Emma off. In the middle of Maine, the last thing she was expecting to come out of this man’s mouth was a vaguely English accent. “I finished all my planning early,” he continues, “and, since you so kindly invited me, I thought I’d come and see the woman my students keep fawning over.”

She can feel her cheeks redden as she gulps. That’s why the dark, messy hair and bracingly blue eyes look familiar: they’ve stared her down from the framed picture on Mr Jones’ desk. So that could only mean one thing.

“Mr K. Jones, I‘m guessing?”

He sticks out his hand, standing up. “You’d be correct.” She takes his hand and, out of nowhere, he kisses her knuckles, causing her blush to deepen. “Although I’ve told you, you are more than welcome to call me Killian.”

“Killian.” She’s only said his name aloud a few times, but this is by far the most swoon-worthy it’s ever left her mouth. She shakes her head. “Emma Swan,” she tells him back.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he says with a raised brow. Settling back against the shelf, Killian gestures toward the blackboard. “I do have to admit, I can see why my class would rather have you than me teaching.”

“Please,” she scoffs, finding it much easier to throw away his compliment than to take it at face value. “Those kids adore you. The first couple times I subbed for you, it was ‘Mr Jones does this for us’ and ‘That’s not how Mr Jones does it.’” Emma rolls her eyes. “I swear, it was a miracle we ever got anything accomplished.”

Shaking his head, Killian chuckles to himself. “That’s exactly the type of thing a teacher loves hearing.” A student, Violet, if Emma remembers her name correctly, comes up to them and asks a question that Emma - not to toot her own horn or anything - answers quite expertly. Only after she answers Violet’s question does she realize that the rest of the class has progressively gotten louder, obviously finished or close to finishing their practice worksheets.

Killian, it seems, has noticed as well. “It sounds like the natives are getting restless,” he comments, pushing off the shelf. He leans closer to her, his voice getting deeper and quieter. “I’ll let you get back to this riveting lesson.”

Emma can’t help but groan a little bit and complain, “Do you have to?”

He laughs. “That is what they’re paying you for, isn’t it, Swan?” Another student comes up to her, asking if he can make a trip to the bathroom. Emma permits it, and the student leaves just as Killian clicks his tongue. “Well, I heard you were in the building and I didn’t want to waste an opportunity to put a lovely face to the name.”

She rolls her eyes, resting her hand on his arm. “Alright, Romeo, you’ve already had English class, from what I remember. No time to be poetic now.”

“Right, serious stuff, maths.” He claps his hands, gathering the attention of the class. They turn in their seats and quiet down, something she’s yet to accomplish as quickly as he has now. “Alright, mateys, I hope you’re on your best behaviors for Ms Swan here. I don’t want her to have to call Mrs Nolan and advise her who should walk the plank.”

Someone in the room gasps. “You wouldn’t, Mr Jones!” someone shouts while another student yells, “Ms Swan can’t call Mrs Nolan. She doesn’t have her number!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that something you want to try?” The children start mumbling to each other, some saying how they’ve seen Emma with Mary Margaret in the past and others who are saying they’ve never met in their life.

Killian, however, leans to whisper into her ear. “If you find yourself a tad bored after school or during planning, you know where to find me.” His hand lands on her bicep, giving it a light squeeze to get her attention. He winks at her one last time before sneaking out of the room, leaving her to deal with the tizzy he’s riled her students up into.

Come the end of the day, Emma’s feet hurt, she’s got papers to grade, and she has to get up and do it all over again tomorrow, but the intrigue behind Mr Jones’ offer is just too much to pass up. So after she waves goodbye to the buses, she slowly makes her way to the back of the school building. Most of the teachers leave shortly after the students, making the hallways slightly darker as she wanders through them now. At the end of the corridor, Mr Jones’ room is quite literally the only light at the end of the tunnel.

His door is wide open, but she knocks hesitantly anyway. He looks up from his pile of papers, the pen that was scratching away at written remarks coming to a halt. Killian smiles.

“Surprised to see me?” she asks shyly.

“In all honestly, yes,” he answers. “I thought I may have come on too strong,” he admits. His hands land on the top of the desk as he goes to push himself out of his desk chair, but Emma holds up her hands to stop him.

“No, don’t stop grading on my account,” she insists, walking toward him. “I’m learning how hard it is to get back to grading once you stop.” When she reaches the other side of his desk, Emma slides atop one of the desks nearby. “What are we reading?” she asks.

“This month’s book reports,” Killian says, settling back into his seat with a sigh. “You would think I handed them the book and asked for the report all in the same hour.”

“I’m sure that’s how it seemed for some of the kids.”

He hums, returning to the paper in front of him to quickly write something across it before turning back to her. “I’m wonderfully pleased that you stopped by, but you really don’t have to stay. I don’t want to keep you from any plans.”

“Well it’s your lucky day,” she replies without much thought. “I find myself a free agent this evening.”

She does, kind of. She was going to swing by and let Mary Margaret and David, who knows, go to the grocery store on a date or something while Emma watched Robbie. But she didn’t set her plans in stone, so she can technically push it off until tomorrow.

(And if she plays hooky to finally talk to this man in person, then sue her.)

Sliding off the desk, Emma grabs the student’s desk chair and swings it until it’s around the side of the teacher’s desk. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks.

Killian’s brows crawl up his forehead. It seems she’s caught a little off guard. “Um, not particularly,” he says, surveying the piles on his desk. “Your company is more than enough assistance.”

She blushes. “Are you sure? You don’t want me to put stickers on good papers or draw little monsters on the bad ones?”

Laughing, Killian sets his pen down again. “As much as I would enjoy that, I don’t think the administration would be too fond of the monsters.” He gestures at the pen in front of him, blue ink bubbled up at the tip. “Can’t even use red pen anymore because it’s been shown to be too angry or some shit like that.”

Emma gasps, her hand covering her mouth for effect. “Such language,” she says, her hand falling from her mouth to her chest. “Think of the children.”

“After hours,” he reminds her with a smirk. “You’ve roamed these halls long enough to hear something along those lines. You’ve worked with some of those kids. Called them little shits, if I remember correctly.”

Emma shrugs. “As true as that might be,” she admits, “doesn’t it feel wrong?”

This time, Killian shrugs. “We are the adults in this realm. We’re the ones that rule the school.”

“Isn’t that what the psychiatrists say when the patients run the asylum?”

“Probably.” They both fall into silence as Killian goes back to grading. Emma, trying not to bother or creep him out too much, watches over his shoulder as he writes out comments. He sighs, putting the pen down again and scaring her a bit. “How about I finish up this assignment and then we can do something outside of school property?” he suggests. Raising an eyebrow, Killian adds, “Perhaps grab a drink.”

Pretending to be scandalized, Emma scolds him: “Mr Jones, it’s a school night.”

He smirks, his hands coming to rest wide at the back of his head. “All the more reason, Ms Swan.”

Rolling her eyes, Emma gets more comfortable in her chair. “Now I understand why you needed me so often,” she reasons, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling a little self-satisfied. “I bet shrill fifth grade voices do wonders to a hangover headache.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, love,” Killian grumbles. “Although, to be completely transparent, the thought has crossed my mind that those students of mine are trying to replace me with you. They practically forced me out of the classroom when I so much as sneezed.”

Emma laughs. “I kind of get that impression too. They always wanted me to stay longer on half days so we could meet.”

Killian hums. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell them that we have then,” he suggests. “Leave them in suspense.”

While he goes back to working diligently, Emma tries to focus her attention on something productive, like perhaps cleaning up the counter on the other side of the room, but ends up getting distracted instead.

“Where’s the accent come from?” she asks. It’s something that’s been as on-and-off a thought as he has since they met in person earlier in the day.

(Mostly on.)

(He’s been very difficult to get off her mind.)

“My upbringing, I should believe,” he answers, not looking up from the paper before him. “I was raised in Kingston, outside of London.” Glancing up at her briefly, Killian asks, “Is that a problem, Swan?”

“No, of course not. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Under her breath, she adds, “Certainly isn’t unattractive, but whatever.”

By the way he chuckles as he marks a less-than-good grade on the paper before him, Emma’s assuming her attempts at subtly aren’t that at all.

“Who’s the other guy in the picture?” she asks, avoiding the tension that might arise as well as the warmth rising on her cheeks at being caught.

“Liam, my brother.” Emma sighs, because that makes a lot of sense. They look enough alike and Killian has mentioned his existence in many of his notes. “We sail out on the Jolly Roger during the summer,” he explains.

“Ah, that explains the boat picture.”

“Ship,” he’s quick to correct her.

“Ship?” Killian looks up briefly again to nod at his correction.“Ship. Where’s she these days?”

“Oregon coast, if you can believe it.” Sighing, Killian put the cap on his pen and sets it down. “As much as I love this nice tete-a-tete we’ve got going here, I would be more than happy to discuss it after I finish these last five papers.” He taps his fingers on said papers, his brow arching with challenge.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Emma chuckles, getting up and walking backward toward the dirty counter. Pointing over her shoulder, she says, “I’ll go busy myself over here. Let you get your work done, I guess.”

“That’s all I was asking, darling.”

0000

“Is this seat taken?” Killian’s voice startles her, deep and closer than she could’ve expected. Not that she was expecting his voice at all. Per the daily staff email, he was supposed to be out sick this morning, shouldn’t be on school property until quarter after noon.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, looking up at him from her seat.

He searches the room, confusion clear on his face. “This is the teachers’ lounge, Swan,” he says gently, as if she’s the one who shouldn’t be here. “It’s a public space.”

“But your kids are in your classroom,” she reasons. “And the email said you were out sick.”

Killian shrugs, setting his bag on the table space next to her. “Took the morning off for professional development but thought I’d come in anyway,” he says. His hand rests on the back of the chair next to her as his eyes widened in entreaty. “So may I sit here?”

Still a little stunned and not yet rid of the goosebumps from her earlier surprise, Emma nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Not that there was anything really to go off of before, but something changed inherently between them that night they went for drinks once he finally finished grading book reports. Their banter evolved before Emma’s eyes, from the long distance banter of their little notes to the quick-as-a-whip sarcasm and smartassery of real life interactions.

That night, after he treated her to a drink - or four, as it ended up being - Emma’s found him in her pathway more often than not. They’ve taken to counting the number of times in a day they see each other and Emma would be wrong to say that she doesn’t look forward to that little game of theirs.

(Their record so far is 13. They were both pretty impressed with themselves.)

(She treated him to drinks that night.)

(And dinner.)

(It might have been a date.)

And then the texts start and Mary Margaret still helps her with lesson plans on occasion, but now that Robbie’s a little colicky and her and David are a little more sleep deprived, Killian’s more of her go-to guy for that.

(Among other things…)

He’s scooting into the chair beside her, the legs of the furniture scratching against the linoleum, as he asks, “How is the little Nolan babe these days?”

“Robbie.” He knows the baby’s name: Emma’s told him time after time, especially when Mary Margaret sends her a new picture. And she can tell that Killian’s just pulling her leg by the sly grin growing on his face as he looks at her. Rolling her eyes, Emma can’t help from smiling herself. “He’s wonderful. All three of them are great.”

“That’s excellent to hear.”

“So were you just too upset at the prospect of not seeing me today that you had to come in?” she asks goadingly.

The one day she’d called in sick a couple days ago, her phone had nearly shut down with the sheer number of texts and missed calls she gotten when she finally decided to get up from her bed and shower. Sure, she expected the handful from David and Mary Margaret, the one or two from Regina saying that her sick leave was approved and to feel better, but she thought Killian might die without seeing her. It’s how his dramatic messages came off. Despite her telling him not to, he stopped over after work just to make sure she had everything she could’ve possibly needed.

“Would it put you off completely if I admit, yes, a wee bit?” he admits sheepishly, his tongue running across his lower lip. “You’re quite enchanting, love. No matter what’s already happened, you make any given day a hell of a lot better.”

Emma blushes, focusing back on the emails that awaited responses. “That still doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Yes it does.”

Starting to get frustrated, Emma finally huffs, “Then why exactly do I see you so much even when you should be with your kids and you aren’t off on P.D.?” It’s been on her mind as often as his accent when she showers or his blue eyes in her dreams. The instructional assistant has their desk in her classroom and she doesn’t even see them 13 times in one day. Something odd is afoot with their little game, and Emma knows it’s almost certainly Killian’s doing, because it sure as hell isn’t hers.

He sighs, opening his laptop. “I might, on occasion, ask someone to watch my classroom under the pretense that I need to visit the restroom.”

“And you come find me instead,” she extrapolates.

His hand reaches up to scratch behind his ear, a nervous tick Emma’s learned in their time together. “Guilty as charged,” he admits shyly.

Emma tsks at him. “You’re going to get in trouble one of these days,” she tells him, her voice melodic, almost gloating.

This time when he leans in to whisper in her ear, at least she’s got some warning: his jacket shushes up against the fabric of the chair. “Life’s not worth living without a little risk,” he murmurs enticingly. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Killian pulls away, much to her chagrin, although it’s probably for the best. She isn’t quite sure she could be held accountable for anything she may or may not have done if they’d maintained their proximity.

(She hasn’t had the pleasure of experiencing much of a romance with Killian thus far, but she certainly has enough fantasies to fulfill to give her a good idea of how it might have happened.)

And as he goes to putter about on his laptop, Emma hopes that Killian isn’t talking about only risking a few minutes with his students to see her. It sounds like he plans on jumping out of a plane, or swimming with sharks, or something even more life-changing than that.

(She can’t help but be curious as to what he might be thinking. Because if she’s on his wavelength, his and her little life-changing risk might coincide.)

(Or at least she hopes they do.)

0000

It’s a rainy Saturday, which hopefully bodes well if old wives’ tales should be trusted. Emma’s dress is perfectly white, probably the only solid white piece of clothing she owns that doesn’t have food stains or art project remains on it. It’s a hazard of teaching she’s gotten used to in her time as a substitute and then a fully-certified teacher, but seeing this pristine dress on, reflected back at her in the mirror, makes her wish that maybe she had a couple more shirts and pants that were at least this close to clean.

(Thank goodness she had had the foresight to ask to get ready in the back room of the church. The moment she steps outside in the downpour, her dress could be ruined. But she’ll roll with the punches.)

Mary Margaret sniffs slightly, a tissue covering the lower half of her face. Emma matches her gaze in the mirror.

“No, don’t do that,” she says sternly, already feeling her bottom lip beginning to tremble. “If you start crying, then I’ll start crying, and I can’t afford to redo my makeup.”

Sniffing again, Mary Margaret pats lightly at the corners of her own eyes. “You’re gorgeous,” she says, her voice as watery as her eyes.

Emma‘s smile is sympathetic. “Thanks.” For a moment, she just stares at her friend, equally as beautiful in her own maid of honor dress, before she shakes herself out of it. Looking back in the mirror, making sure everything is absolutely perfect, Emma asks, “What time is it?”

“Time to go.” David’s sassy response comes from the doorway. He looks dapper himself, even with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression is nearly identical to his wife’s, looking entirely the part of a man walking his daughter down the aisle. “You look like a blushing bride.”

Shoulders slumping with emotion, Emma grins back. “Thanks, Dad.” Stepping away from the mirror and toward her friends, she asks, “Where’s Robbie?”

“Granny’s got him, I think.” David leans over and kisses Mary Margaret on the temple before wrapping his arms around both his girls’ shoulders. “Or maybe Regina. I don’t know, the boy’s got so much damn charm. He’s been making his rounds.”

“Of course he has,” Emma chuckles out. She takes a deep breath, centering herself just like she did before taking the PRAXIS or walking into her first interview post-teaching degree. Then she opens her eyes, blows out a raspberry, and grins. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Mary Margaret squeals in delight as David smiles. Taking her hand, David threads Emma’s arm through the crook of his elbow. Mary Margaret goes ahead of them, taking on the role of maid of honor as seriously as she has since the day Emma asked, and David leads her to the back of the church. An attendant opens and closes the door, permitting the rest of the wedding procession in. They casually walk down to the altar, to where she knows Killian is standing there waiting for her, big brother Liam at his side.

(Liam had texted her last night, acting as the middleman between the two of them, telling her Killian was a ball of nerves and would probably be a little less than up to any arduous activities after tonight was over.

She told him she’d probably be the same. If she knew her fiancé, Killian’s last night as a bachelor would have been as sleepless as hers as a bachelorette.)

The door clunks shut behind Mary Margaret, leaving Emma and David the only ones in the hall besides the official door opener.

David’s hand taps on hers gripping to the crease of his elbow. “You ready?” he asks.

Licking her lips, Emma nods. She’s got one more thing on her mind before she’s really ready to do this whole ‘until death do us part’ thing.

“Thank you,” she says quickly. David squints his eyes at her. “If you hadn’t knocked Mary Margaret up, then we would never have gotten here. So I just wanted to say that before everything gets really emotional and everyone gets questionably drunk.” She breathes deeply and sighs. “Okay, yeah, now I am.”

David sniffs, holding back tears. He may be putting on a little bit of an act, but she can tell there are real tears ready to fall once the ceremony starts. “What a bomb to drop at a time like this,” he murmurs.

Emma shrugs, adjusting her bouquet to ward off any awkwardness she feels. “You’ve been around Killian,” she says. “Guess I’ve gotten a little too used to waiting for the dramatic reveal thing he does.” Sighing again, she stands up straight and faces the door separating her from the rest of her life.

(Not to be dramatic or anything.)

“Really, let’s do this,” she says confidently. “I’ve got a knot to tie.”

David gestures to the attendant, and the door opens to reveal their guests, pews nearly full on both sides. As she and David take their measures steps down the aisle, she waves and smiles at all the faces she recognizes as they pass by. Some of her master’s program classmates are here, along with current coworkers and former teachers. Hell, even some of her former coworkers from the bail bonds agency have made it. Probably just so they can go to the party afterwards.

(Definitely so they can go to the party afterwards.)

And at the front of the church, in the second and third rows, are 22 teenagers, their smiles so wide it nearly brings Emma to tears. The 23rd - mastermind matchmaker Henry - stands behind Killian with his other groomsmen.

It’s been a few years - Mr Jones’ fifth grade class now well into their high school experience - but every single one of them found the time between academic decathlons and track meets and Shakespeare plays to watch their teacher and their favorite substitute get married. At first she thought it was a little unconventional, but when she brought it up to Killian one night before they fell asleep, he found it brilliant.

“In case you haven’t noticed, love, those kids still love you,” he’d whispered into the skin of her shoulder. “At least one of them sends me an email updating us on their lives every week. We’ve attended every play and homecoming.” She had curled into his chest, her head coming to rest over his steady heartbeat. “I’m pretty sure those kids see us as their cool aunt and uncle.”

“Well, I guess it would an insult not to invite them to a family wedding,” she’d murmured back.

Emma thought she’d be able to hold herself together until at least the vows. While she had decided to use the traditional words, she knows Killian has written his own, probably with the specific intention of destroying her emotions. But the moment she spots those kids, she remembers every little nudge they gave her, every time she wrote to Killian about the days they spent trying to get through a lesson plan, and the dams break.

Much to David’s surprise, Emma stops in the middle of the aisle, two pews from the altar. She makes eye contact with Killian, who tilts his head, silently asking what are you up to?

Emma gestures toward the kids next to her.

He understands, stepping down from the altar to her side.

Emma turns to David. “I know this is a little off book, but I’ve got a couple people I’ve got to thank,” she tells him.

David smiles and moves her hand from his elbow to Killian’s proffered arm. “Say no more,” he says. “I completely understand.”

With a kiss to her forehead, David heads to Granny’s side, taking Robbie from her grasp.. Vaguely, Emma can hear her maid of honor stand up and start explaining the small halt in the ceremony, but Emma herself is too focus on squeezing the life out of every kid that comes to her. Each one of them embraces her back, some of them whispering how excited or happy they are, before moving on to hug Killian. It only takes five or so minutes to make it through the class, some of the girls crying even harder than they were before at the gesture.

Once the last student - Henry, of course - makes it back to their place, Emma wipes cautiously beneath her eyes. Killian takes her other hand and squeezes.

“Are you ready to get married now?” he asks, his voice lovingly mocking.

Emma nods, leaning into his shoulder. “Hopefully I won’t get distracted now,” she says.

Killian kisses the top of her head. “Don’t worry, love, you’ll do wonderfully.”

#cslb #cs ff #captain swan little bang #ouat #captain swan #my words #storytime #this story has been in my head for a while #mostly because its my life now #but the story came from one of the first times i subbed and left a really long letter for the teacher #and then it sort of snowballed #this story was brought to you by elementary school shenanigans #in a slightly flu-like haze

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auburnfamilynews · 4 years

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Happy Halloween.

Oh boy, I hope by the time you’re reading this, you’re figuring out the proper ratio of candy to take from your kids as a parent tax (never too early to educate our young ones on the way tax brackets work) before sugaring yourself up with some dark liquor in preparation for what you’ll see today.

First of all, it’s going to be one of those crisp fall afternoons you write about. It’s Halloween. There’s a full moon tonight, and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll have that extra hour of sweet glorious sleep as we head into November. Here’s hoping that you get to dream of an Auburn win instead of having Halloween nightmares of yet another gut-wrenching loss to LSU.

However, this is a happy place. We think happy thoughts here, and especially during 2020, the year that doesn’t matter. LSU’s already faced their share of misery. They had one of the most lightning strike teams last season, and in their first game as defending champs, they got chumped by Mike Leach. The guy couldn’t handle Portland State in his openers at his previous stop, and he clowned LSU.

Auburn has had a rough time this season also. I think we played Georgia, but honestly that game is clouded now in a haze of bourbon hatred so I don’t technically remember what happened. There was a game against South Carolina too, but... well, yeah. Those happened. In between, everyone wants to talk about “Y’ALL. BARN CHEATIN’ AND THEY SHOULD BE A 1-4 TEAM. OR 0-5. KENTUCKY HAD MORE YARDS THAN THEM SO THEY’S BETTER THAN AUBURN AND BARNERHAM IS GIVING AUBURN THE WINS.”

Instead of thinking about the ways that Auburn’s cheating the system and skating by, pissing off SEC West fans of teams that we haven’t even played yet, we should be looking at what the Tigers are doing well.

After the last couple of years of Boobee Whitlow (who was a serviceable running back, but not the type of guy we’re accustomed to here), let me tell you, it’s been a delight to watch Tank Bigsby run the ball. He’s the real deal, and if you don’t think so, just look at my RealDeal face.

I’m Josh Lyman in this situation, and you’re Sam Seaborn. I saw the real thing. Tank is the best pure running back that I think we’ve had since Cadillac. He runs hard, breaks tackles, racks up yardage, and can do everything. We’ve leaned into the idea of getting your best player the ball and it’s worked with him.

Meanwhile, the fight between Bo Nix and Seth Williams in Columbia turned into daps and hugs, mean mugs and shoulder shrugs as the connection went for 8 completions, 150 yards, and the game-winning 58 yard score. Auburn’s pass protection helped a little, and improved some, but there are still holes. In terms of the run game, it continued to soar, and Auburn is now one of the best rushing teams in the SEC.

Unfortunately, Auburn’s offensive line, which had started to turn into one unit instead of five individual ones, lost one of the most experienced and reliable members when Brandon Council went down with a season-ending injury in Oxford. Keiondre Jones, who’s a thicc boy, steps in at right guard, but this is not the team you want to have to play when you’re working in a new guy.

For LSU, they’re probably going to be playing 6’6, 242-pound TJ Finley, who was great last week in his debut as a starter. He’s still got a ton of weapons, and he got the benefit of playing at home against a South Carolina team that may have been experiencing a bit of a hangover after their win against us. Hopefully he comes back to earth and a road atmosphere turns ugly. In both of LSU losses, it’s been the pass defense faltering, and allowing, oh... 1,029 YARDS IN TWO GAMES. If ever there was a game when both phases of Auburn’s offense wanted to work, it would be this game. Bo Nix at home should be a good bit better than Bo Nix on the road, but LSU has 14 sacks in those four games on defense, and average about eight tackles for loss per game overall. Gus Malzahn and Chad Morris have to figure out a way to hit this defense at the right time. It’ll be tricky.

Plus, we’re dealing with the weight of extreme voodoo here, and not just on LSU’s side. This rivalry’s ratio of bizarre outcomes is higher than just about any matchup in the country. Here we have an Auburn team trying to avenge three straight close and crushing losses in the series, and trying to do it in a year like this, on Halloween, with a full moon.

It’s safe to say that if you have an expectation of how this is going to turn out, you probably need to throw a bunch of gasoline on that expectation and light it on fire. There’s no way this turns out to be a run-of-the-mill football game. Never is.

SERIES HISTORY: LSU leads the all-time series 31-22-1, and they’ve won three straight in the rivalry. Auburn’s last win came in 2016 in Les Miles’ final game as head coach at LSU.

LAST MEETING: Last season’s game in Baton Rouge turned out to be the closest game that LSU played all season, as they won 23-20. Auburn led until the final five minutes of the third quarter when Clyde Edwards-Helaire scored the go-ahead touchdown.

LAST WEEK: Auburn took care of business against Ole Miss with a 35-28 win, where Tank Bigsby accounted for 129 rushing yards and a pair of touchdowns, while Seth Williams scored the game-winning touchdown as a part of his 150 receiving yards.

LSU had their most impressive performance of the season with a 52-24 win against South Carolina. TJ Finley got the start for the injured Myles Brennan, and threw for 265 yards and. a pair of touchdowns on 17-21 passing. Tyrion Davis-Prince ran for 135 yards and a score, while Terrace Marshall caught another two touchdowns, bringing his season total up to nine.

KEYS FOR AUBURN:

Continue to find the offensive balance. This could fall under sub-category “continue to run the ball well” because it’s the Jed Bartlett Silver Bullet to making nearly everything else right on this football team. It opens up the passing game. It allows our defense to rest. It wears down the opposition. Plus, it means we get to watch Tank Bigsby tote the rock. Even so, when Auburn has been at its best this year, it’s when the offense has been keeping balanced and keeping defenses off balance. Last week was a great example. The Tigers were amazingly balanced last week with 224 rushing yards and 238 passing yards, and even though it’s Ole Miss, Bo Nix was much cleaner. LSU’s defense isn’t great either, but their pass rush is the strength, so the run game will need to contiue to bear the brunt of Auburn’s load today.

Make the freshman quarterback a freshman quarterback. No, this TJ Finley cat ain’t Tim Tebow, or Tua, or Johnny Football, or any of the other fantastic freshman quarterbacks that have come through the SEC lately. He’s still 6’6, 242, and showed out last weekend against South Carolina. What turns out to be much different is playing in one of the more friendly home atmospheres and then turning around going into Jordan-Hare Stadium. Without the full capacity crowd, Auburn’s advantage here won’t be as pronounced, but it’s still an unfamiliar stadium for a young kid. When you consider what Kevin Steele’s been able to do against some of the best offenses in college football, and particularly last season against LSU, I have faith that he’ll pull something out to help rattle a freshman. Throw him some stunts, some extra blitzes, some exotic coverage, and let him figure it out.

Make the clutch play. Wow, looking at Auburn’s last three losses to LSU you can easily pinpoint the moments that changed the game and gave LSU a little momentum. In 2017 it was the fourth down touchdown and the diving touchdown catch from Russell Gage right before the half. Then the D.J. Chark punt return score in the second half flipped the game around. One year later, it was again a long play that just barely worked. Joe Burrow hit Derrick Dillon on a 71-yard strike that just barely went over the outstretched hands of an Auburn defender. Then, on the game-winning drive, Burrow calmly stepped up and completed a fourth down slant pass to extend the drive that led to the walk-off field goal. And last year, it turned out to be the LSU defense making big plays like the Derek Stingley interception right before halftime that prevented Auburn from retaking the lead. This year, Auburn has to be the side jumping on the loose ball, grabbing that interception, and winning the big play ratio. LSU’s big plays have killed Auburn over the last three years, so now it’s Auburn’s turn.

STRESS-O-METER:

Anytime LSU comes to town —

from College and Magnolia - All Posts https://www.collegeandmagnolia.com/2020/10/31/21542872/game-preview-and-open-thread-auburn-vs-lsu

#IFTTT #Blogger #auburn #auburn fast #wareagle #AuburnFamilyNews #war eagle #sec #football news #aubu

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fmlfpl · 4 years

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Lineup Lamentations - GW17

Our Transfers, Captains, and Starting 11s for the week!

And new Friday My Life episode just came out for subscribers!

—

WALSH

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Lacazette and Ozil

IN (for -4 points hit): Rashford and Martial

Welp - turns out Freddy is not the answer at Arsecast and they have looked diabolical as per over the last couple. That, as well as Laca maybe bombed out and Ozil playing wide and shit and it's just a fucking mess. Experiment was fun while it lasted and I had my yearly enjoyment of owning Ozil but time to turn the page. Hitting them both out feels more than fine and looking at this fixture run for United I'm backing them to continue their momentum and keep doing their thing.

Rash, at this point, is on a Vardy-like run of returns and I couldn't really think of good reasons why that shouldn't continue. We may just be seeing a player mature in front of our eyes here so better late than never is my approach here.

Tony is just an old flame nothing to see here. Very close pick between him and Puli but that's what Friday My Life is for. As Alon put it, which was an excellent reminder, if there's a cheap OOP striker from a top six team in the game then just get that guy and reap the rewards. This was my main reasoning behind starting the season with him and if it ain't broke. Well..until he breaks that is..

GK:

Schmeichel (NOR)

Schmikes second run out for me after obviously not cleaning last game. If they don't clean Norwich I'll be quite sad. Quite sad.

DEF:

Pereira (NOR)

Ricardo looked fucking good against Villa and really should have came away with an assist if not for Barnes profligacy and shithousery...happy to have this lad in the squad and hoping it's the start of a beautiful new partnership.

Alexander-Arnold (WAT)

Trent goes again to cuck me and probably get subbed on 57' after his 50' off the bench display. Cool guy.

Lundstram (AVL)

Lund is home Villa in what is sort of a hard fixture? Idk. Still like running Lundy out in these fixtures against the bottom half without thinking a ton about it.

Might bin him before that tough run in a few gameweeks but for the time being he still looks like a solid bet for attacking returns and shit.

Kelly (BHA)

Saving the best for last..obv..Martin Kelly the god. Nothing to say here as words on a web page cannot describe a God with anything which remotely resembles accuracy, so I won't try.

MID:

Martial (EVE)

New friend Tony has a home banker against Big Dunc's squad. Seems good to me...hopefully it is good to Tony as well. Everton xi still looks a shambles and hoping that a 90′ on tape of what Dunc is doing will be of great assistance to the genius manager who is Ole.

De Bruyne (ars)

Kevin the steady hand has a banker at Arse and I'd be pretty surprised if he blanks. Still feel like he's a very good pick and happy to still have hung on to him.

Son (wol)

Last mid in the trio is Private Swan. He's looked electric under Mou with no end in sight. Get in there swannyboy.

FWD:

Rashford (EVE)

Another new friend Rash up top I don't have to fuck him to hell in slack anymore when he dongs which I'm happy about. Time to be on team Rash and be happy about it.

Vardy (NOR)

Vardz stays boring whatever nothing to talk about there.

Kane (wol)

Kane also is staying..for now. Still feels like a not so good use of money but in this moment and looking at the fixtures it doesn't feel like a good place to use transfers. Yet.

CAP:

Vardy (NOR)

Vardy for me. Going with the "best" option for once. Yay points. Hopefully the rest of my team performs and I can gain on the field in that way since it won't be in this way this weekend.

—

ALON

TRANSFERS:

OUT: N/A

IN: N/A

Following Pod Partner’s advice on Fri and just saving instead of panicking in a Liverpool player or something else insane.

Team is good on paper even with no Mo and no Mané.

GK:

Ryan (cry)

Ryan is the runaway leader for Baseline Bonus Points of all players in the game... Maybe he’ll get a clean from time to time and hopefully the bones follow. I hate keepers.

DEF:

van Dijk (WAT)

Should be a relatively straight forward clean. Stop the one or two chances / counters and just chill and control otherwise.

Lundstram (AVL)

Lundy has stopped shooting which really dents his start-every-week appeal so hopefully he picks it back up soon. If not he will turn into a guy we’re benching pretty regularly with SHU cleansheets coming back down to Earf.

Söyüncü (NOR)

Leicester D should have another easy day at the office here.

MID:

Maddison (NOR)

Been hauling and ticking he’s just good man. At first I shitted on him then I came around on him and transferred him in and then he blanked and it felt bad again and now he’s titting and it feels good again... Anyway points are good and he’s in and around’em.

Alli (wol)

Fixture feels really bad to me. Wolves will play super deep as usual and try to hit Spurs on the break... Maybe it’ll take a moment of Alli magic to break them down?

Pulisic (BOU)

A 6th (including Champs Lg.) blank in a row would really be criminal because he’s playing so fucking well and looks incredible.

Bournemouth are a joke and Chelsea should run them the fuck over.

De Bruyne (ars)

The forgotten man... Still very good. Although he might turn into a Liverpool guy or Son in two weeks I don’t fuckin’ know.

FWD:

Kane (wol)

Yikes. Praying.

Abraham (BOU)

I think he definitely gets a goal here but will he stay on the pitch long enough for more then a goal? I’m not sure.

Vardy (NOR)

Yep.

CAP:

Vardy (NOR)

Sticking with Vardy.

If Tammy was nailed for 90′ I’d probably go there against the diabolically bad Bournemouth but we know how many goals are scored in those last twenty minutes and I want my striker and my captain on the pitch for’em.

Vardy injects Lucozade into his veins at halftime and sprints around for the second 45′. It’s good for points. Would recommend.

—

RANDOM SLACKER OF THE WEEK: WolfgangJones

The words of Random Slacker are not officially endorsed by this website nor any employees of FML FPL LLC.

TRANSFERS:

OUT: McGinn

IN: Grealish

Sideways moves are like a second helping of cake, you know it’s bad for you but you do it anyway. Many gameweeks ago I went for McGinn instead of Grealish and I’ve regretted it ever since. Grealish just feels right for my first bench spot and the occasional start.

GK:

Guaita (BHA)

Two weeks, two cleans, 18 points. Great shout from two pods ago. Palace’s fixtures are looking good for the next while so Guaita should keep getting the cleans.

DEF:

Alexander-Arnold & Robertson (WAT)

At what point does patience become plain stubbornness? Liverpool have kept two cleans in a row and I don’t see a reason why the trend shouldn’t continue this week. Might be getting rid of Robbo next week to free up funds so hopefully he gets me a clean as a parting gift.

Söyüncü (NOR)

Soy is good and Leicester D is good. I’m expecting a clean here this weekend.

Lundstram (AVL)

Sheffield haven’t kept a clean since GW11 but Lundstram is still out of position as fuck. Even if they don’t keep a clean he might get attacking returns so I see no reason not to start him for this one.

MID:

De Bruyne (ars)

I’m not going to lie; I’ve been thinking about getting rid of Kev. But with Arsenal being bad at defending it was hold for at least one more week. I’ll have to reassess next week since he’s the easiest path into either Son or Alli.

Mané (WAT)

Mané has been phenomenal and he should keep it up. Home vs Watford is as tasty a fixture as they come.

Moura (wol)

In hindsight Lucas was the wrong Spurs asset to get but nothing to be done about that right now. Here’s to hoping he proves me wrong.

Maddison (NOR)

Tick merchant will keep ticking. Should get points at home against Norwich. Barring any injuries he’ll be a season hold for me.

FWD:

Jimenez (TOT)

It ain’t much but it’s honest work. I don’t see Wolves beating Spurs but Jimenez should be able to get a goal or an assist.

Vardy (NOR)

If there is one thing we can count on is Vardy getting points.

CAP:

Mané (WAT)

It was a close one between Mané and Vardy but in the end I think Mané has the potential to explode against Watford.

#lineup lambs #lineup lamentations

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movietvtechgeeks · 7 years

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Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/nfl-roundup-chargers-beat-rams-falcons-lose-andy-dalton-looks-good/

NFL Roundup: Chargers beat Rams, Falcons lose and Andy Dalton looks good

Hurrican Harvey is causing plenty of problems for Texas, but it's also caused the Houston Texans to uproot and head inland until things calm down and dry out. The Houston Texans say they are unable to return home because of Hurricane Harvey and are instead flying to Dallas following Saturday night's exhibition game in New Orleans. Texans coach Bill O'Brien says he's been told flooded roads are part of the reason for his teams' diversion to northern Texas. O'Brien says he's unsure how long the Texans will remain in Dallas. He says he's also uncertain where Houston would practice, but adds the Dallas Cowboys would probably share their training facilities if needed. The Texans are hoping to return to Houston as soon as possible, so they're not able to announce plans beyond Sunday because they're waiting to see how Houston comes through the storm. Players say they're praying for Houston and confident its residents will pull through as well as possible. Even before they showed the boxing spectacle of the summer on locker room TVs after the game, the Broncos showed some fight in their 20-17 preseason win over the Green Bay Packers - among themselves. Cornerback Aqib Talib and linebacker Todd Davis got into a shoving match in the first half that bled onto the sidelines before tempers finally cooled. "Nothing serious, we're all good," said Talib, who started the fracas with a too-hard shove of Davis as he tried to get him away from doing some jawing with the Packers. Davis took exception and hit him back. "Nothing serious, we're all good," Talib said. Jamaal Charles and Von Miller provided the other fireworks before the teams pulled up chairs to watch Floyd Mayweather Jr. knocked out Conor McGregor in the 10th round in Las Vegas. Charles' impressive Denver debut included four rushes for 27 yards, two catches and a declaration afterward by coach Vance Joseph that he's in the Broncos' plans this season. "I felt like a Bronco when I got here, but putting on that uniform for the very first time, that's when I really feel like this is a new beginning," said Charles, Kansas City's all-time leading rusher who was released by the Chiefs over the winter. The last player introduced before the game, Miller made his cameo count by sacking Aaron Rodgers for an 11-yard loss, forcing the Packers to settle for a 52-yard field goal and ending Rodgers' night after 10 snaps (he was 3 for 5 for 12 yards). "A-Rod, he's a great quarterback, a Hall of Fame quarterback," Miller said. "So, especially in the preseason if you can get some practice against that, it's dope. It's great." Miller spun past Jason Spriggs, who was subbing for injured right tackle Bryan Bulaga, and split a double team on his way to dumping Rodgers. "It was a good move by him. He's an athletic guy," said Rodgers, who was harassed into the worst game of his career the last time he came to Denver in 2015. "He likes to line up on our right a lot. And we had help on the outside on that play, but he just made that quick spin move inside. "By the time I felt it I was heading to the ground." After Green Bay safety Kentrell Brice returned an interception 42 yards to the Denver 2 minutes after Rodgers was sacked, backup Brett Hundley trotted out to hand off to Ty Montgomery for the touchdown plunge and a 10-0 lead. "The plan was for Aaron to play two series," Packers coach Mike McCarthy explained. "I was trying to get Brett as much work as I possibly could." "It's the preseason. We don't play a whole lot anymore around here," Rodgers said. "We just kind of get in try to find a rhythm and get out." Miller's day was over after Montgomery's TD. "You know you're not going to be playing much anyways, so to get a sack on those few plays, it feels great," said Miller, who called his sack dance the "sexy T-Rex." Trevor Siemian, in his first game since coach Vance Joseph declared him the starting quarterback over Paxton Lynch, bounced back from his interception to lead Denver on three impressive drives, Lynch came in and got hurt on his only series. Siemian engineered a 10-play, 75-yard drive capped by C.J. Anderson's untouched 16-yard trot but marred by the loss of top receiver Demaryius Thomas to a thigh injury. Siemian also was efficient in the 2-minute offense, and Brandon McManus kicked a 28-yard field goal to tie it at 10 as the first half expired. Siemian finished 13 of 22 for 127 yards and had one interception. Lynch guided Denver on the go-ahead scoring drive - McManus was good from 46 yards - to start the second half. The second-year QB hurt his right (throwing) shoulder on the drive, apparently when he slid on it after a scramble. Joseph said X-rays were negative but that Lynch would go for an MRI on Sunday to confirm it's not a serious injury. Joseph said he's prepared to play Kyle Sloter the entire fourth preseason game. Sloter replaced Lynch and threw a 17-yard TD pass to Hunter Sharp that made it 20-10. Hundley's 6-yard keeper made it 20-17 early in the fourth quarter. TAKE A KNEE: Broncos right tackle Menelik Watson gave new meaning to the term "take a knee" when he proposed to his fiance after the starters were taken out of the game. Azania Stewart, a member of the British national basketball team, said yes. "Just spontaneous," said Watson, who has known Stewart since they were 14. "It was her first NFL game. She's about to head overseas to start her season. She leaves tomorrow. It's something I've been thinking about for a while, been contemplating it, so what a perfect time to do it: in the stadium, our first game, in front of a beautiful crowd. I'm not really a public person, but I thought it would have been special." SITTING OUT: In addition to Thomas, DE Zach Kerr (knee) and S Will Parks (hip) got hurt in the first half for Denver, and Packers OLB Nick Perry was shaken up before halftime. Philip Rivers, Joey Bosa and the rest of the Los Angeles Chargers appear ready to start wooing their new home market for real. Rivers capped the game's opening drive with a 45-yard touchdown pass to Travis Benjamin, and Bosa's strip sack of Goff led to Melvin Ingram's 76-yard fumble return for a score. The Chargers raced to a 21-0 first-quarter lead and held on to beat the Rams 21-19 Saturday night at the Coliseum. Knowing they have to win to attract fans in a saturated market that doesn't tolerate losing, the Chargers hope to see much more mayhem from Bosa and Ingram. After Rivers capped the opening drive with the long TD pass to Benjamin, the Rams moved to the Chargers 8. But as Jared Goff dropped back on third down, Bosa hit him and jarred loose the ball. Ingram scooped it up and was gone. "It's just fun to finally get to the quarterback," said Bosa, who added he's focusing more on knocking the ball loose than simply hitting the QB. He said he knew Ingram "was going to get there. He better not let some O-lineman run him down. I was watching him pick it up and hoping he didn't fumble it and have to fall on it. I was cheering for him, but I didn't run all the way down there. I was cheering from afar." If Bosa and Ingram stay healthy, they're expected to be major forces. Bosa, the Chargers' first-round draft pick in 2016, missed his rookie training camp in a contract spat and then missed the first four games with a hamstring injury. He finished with 10 ½ sacks in 12 games and was voted Defensive Rookie of the Year. Ingram signed a four-year deal that can be worth up to $66 million after making eight sacks last year, giving him 18 ½ in two years. "That whole D-line, we're deep, and we've got guys who can rush the passer," Bosa said. "So It'll be a fun year." Seeing Bosa and Ingram up front, "Man, that makes my job a lot easier," said cornerback Jason Verrett, who had an interception in his first game action since tearing a knee ligament in the fourth game last year. This was the most significant exhibition game, when most starters played into the second quarter. Few if any are expected to play in the fourth and final exhibition. After a bitter split from their home of 56 years in San Diego, the Chargers relocated to the Los Angeles area in January, a year after the Rams moved back from St. Louis. The Chargers train in Costa Mesa in Orange County and play at the StubHub Center, a 27,000-seat soccer stadium in Carson in Los Angeles County. They have some work to do after winning only nine games the last two seasons. But after losing their first two exhibition games in front of less-than-capacity crowds at StubHub, the first-teamers looked sharp. Verrett's pickoff set up Melvin Ingram's 2-yard touchdown run for a 21-0 lead. Rams rookie coach Sean McVay said that over the course of a full game, Goff would get a chance to redeem himself. "What you like about Jared is he is unfazed by that," McVay said of the two plays fans will remember. "There was obviously a couple I'd like back," Goff said. "I felt like we moved the ball pretty well on that first drive, got all the way down there and, unfortunately, turned it over, and they were able to take it the other way. But it's all good stuff to learn from." Rivers was 6 of 6 for 85 yards. Goff was 4 of 6 for 49 yards. LINEUPS The Chargers held out star tight end Antonio Gates, 37. The Rams held out running back Todd Gurley and wide receivers Tavon Austin and Cooper Kupp, who have injuries. BACKUPS The Rams' Sean Mannion played well, including throwing a 38-yard TD pass to Josh Reynolds in the third quarter. Travis Coons kicked a 53-yard field goal after starter Greg Zuerlein made field goals of 42, 21 and 57 yards. But Coons was wide right on a potential go-ahead, 33-yard try with 7:50 to go. Cardale Jones, obtained by the Chargers from Buffalo just before training camp, threw an interception for the second straight week when Dominique Hatfield muscled the ball away from Benjamin late in the second quarter. RIVALRY? After failing to get a new stadium built in San Diego, Chargers chairman Dean Spanos announced on Jan. 12 he was moving the team to the saturated Los Angeles market. Their marketing slogan, "Fight For LA," has been roundly mocked by fans in San Diego and by Rams fans. When the Chargers took the field before the game, they were greeted by the War song "Why Can't We Be Friends?" as well as by boos. INJURIES: Chargers: WR Isaiah Burse left with a concussion in the third quarter. Rams: TE Temarrick Hemingway injured an ankle in the second quarter and was taken off the field on a cart. G Jamon Brown tweaked a hamstring trying to run down Ingram on fumble return, but could have returned if it was a regular-season game. Andy Dalton and the Cincinnati Bengals' starters looked regular-season ready, while Kirk Cousins and the Washington Redskins still have some work to do. Dalton was 8 of 13 for 70 yards and Cincinnati's first-team offense and defense looked sharp against Washington on Sunday as the Redskins won each team's third preseason game 23-17 on the strength of their backups. Linebacker Vontaze Burfict intercepted Cousins' pass and returned it for a touchdown, stiff-arming the quarterback at the end zone and jumping into the stands, before leaving with a back injury. A.J. Green had four catches for 43 yards, Jeremy Hill ran for 15 yards and a touchdown before his day was cut short with an ankle injury and the Bengals' starters were 4 of 6 on third down. Chris Smith and rookies Jordan Willis and Carl Lawson each sacked Cousins as defensive coordinator Paul Guenther seems to have the edge rushers he was looking for. Cincinnati running back Giovani Bernard ran for 25 yards on four carries in his first game since tearing the ACL in his left knee last season. The Bengals had taken a cautious approach in bringing Bernard back. The Redskins got tight end Jordan Reed back after he missed the first two preseason games and almost the first month of training camp with an injury to the big toe on his left foot. Reed had two catches for 12 yards and didn't look hampered by the injury. After generating 1 whole yard in the first quarter, the Redskins' starters eventually put together a touchdown drive, but also went three-and-out three times. Cousins was 10 of 19 for 109 yards, and an interception as Washington's first-team offense finished its exhibition action with nine three-and-outs on 15 possessions. Both teams are 1-2. SITTING OUT Bengals TE Tyler Eifert and Redskins WR Josh Doctson were surprise scratches, though Doctson has missed time in camp with a hamstring injury. Washington rookie LB Ryan Anderson, who got a shoulder stinger in the first preseason game, was not in uniform after being considered a game-time decision. INJURY UPDATE Bengals: Along with his game-ending back injury, Burfict was evaluated for a concussion but cleared. ... RB Cedric Peerman suffered a left shoulder injury, and TE Mason Schreck left with a knee injury. Redskins: DL Phil Taylor injured his left quadriceps muscle on the first defensive series and did not return. ... LB Junior Galette, who had been out with a hamstring injury, saw his first game action since Dec. 28, 2014. ROOKIE WATCH Bengals: WR John Ross flashed some speed on a jet sweep in his preseason debut. Ross, who set the 40-yard dash record at the scouting combine and was a first-round pick, had been held out to recover from shoulder surgery. ... RB Joe Mixon, getting extra carries with Hill going out with an injury, ran eight times for 31 yards and fumbled an exchange with Dalton. ... DT Ryan Glasgow made a fourth-and-1 stop in the third quarter. Redskins: C Chase Roullier, starting in place of the injured Spencer Long, had some good downfield blocking on a day most of the offensive line struggled. ... RB Samaje Perine didn't do much to challenge Rob Kelley's starting job, gaining 5 yards on 5 carries. ... CB Joshua Holsey had a sack and looks Undrafted free agent CB Fish Smithson picked off A.J. McCarron in the fourth quarter and returned it 63 yards. POSITION BATTLES Bengals: Hill versus Mixon got derailed by injury, and Bernard's return adds him to the mix. ... K Randy Bullock made a 53-yard field goal, while rookie Jake Elliott was wide right from 45 yards, his first miss of the preseason. Redskins: Zach Brown and Mason Foster again started at inside linebacker, leaving Will Compton to play with the second team. Brian Hoyer had the San Francisco offense humming after sputtering through the first two preseason games, passing for 176 yards and two touchdowns in the first half before the Minnesota Vikings rallied for a 32-31 victory over the 49ers on Sunday night. Sam Bradford and the Minnesota starters again failed to reach the end zone, though Bradford was sharp when given time to throw. Jerick McKinnon scored on a 108-yard kickoff return in the third quarter, boosting his bid to take over that role. Backup quarterbacks Case Keenum and Taylor Heinicke led a late charge, with Heinicke's hurdle over the pylon for the 2-point conversion on the final play giving the Vikings the win after Terrell Newby's touchdown run with no time left. Hoyer found Marquise Goodwin wide open for a 46-yard touchdown strike and Carlos Hyde out of the backfield for a 24-yard connection, some evidence of how new coach Kyle Shanahan's scheme could pick up the pace after the 49ers were one of the league's lowest-scoring teams the last three years. Goodwin, the former Olympic long jumper who had the fastest 40-yard dash time at the 2013 NFL combine, ought to help. Injuries buried him in Buffalo. The backups were buzzing, too, with an 87-yard score by Raheem Mostert off a screen pass from C.J. Beathard on third-and-22 in the third quarter and a short touchdown run by Mostert in the fourth quarter. An unchallenged starter for the first time in his nine-year career, Hoyer finished 12 for 17 with a 143.3 passer rating. He completed his first nine passes. Beathard took another step toward solidifying himself as the backup, too, despite having a pass picked off by Antone Exum. The depth chart behind Hyde at running back is wide open, with Mostert (130 yards, six touches) and rookie Matt Breida (34 yards, eight touches) standing out. With left tackle Riley Reiff, running back Latavius Murray and wide receiver Laquon Treadwell all playing their first preseason game, Bradford and the Vikings were close to full strength. But the protection was again problematic, and Stefon Diggs dropped two passes. In 13 possessions for the first team over their first three games this month, the Vikings produced 11 punts and one field goal. They reached the 6-yard line in the second quarter but ran out of time before they could try another play. REID PROTEST RESUMES San Francisco strong safety Eric Reid took the American anthem from one knee, in an apparent resumption of the human rights protest he joined last season with then-teammate Colin Kaepernick. Goodwin and others had their hands on Reid's shoulders. Reid later drew the ire of Vikings wide receiver Adam Thielen after lowering his shoulder into Thielen's chest during a reception in the second quarter. Reid kissed his flexed biceps muscle like Kaepernick used to do, before receiving an earful from Thielen in response to the necessity of the hit. KICKING CONTEST Marshall Koehn made a 58-yard field goal for the Vikings with room to spare, keeping the competition with Kai Forbath for the kicker job close. Koehn missed a 47-yard attempt a few minutes later after the interception, but he converted a 38-yard extra point after a penalty pushed it back. SITTING OUT 49ers: FS Jimmie Ward (hamstring) was held out after being taken off the physically unable to perform list earlier in the week. Vikings: TE Kyle Rudolph (leg) and DE Brian Robison (undisclosed) didn't suit up. NOTABLE INJURIES 49ers: Five-time Pro Bowl LT Joe Staley was sidelined in the first quarter because of a knee injury, but he was walking around without displaying obvious discomfort or discouragement. ... LB Brock Coyle (knee) departed in the third quarter. Vikings: LB Emmanuel Lamur left in the third quarter for a concussion evaluation. FS Anthony Harris (leg) was out in the fourth quarter. Chicago coach John Fox thinks having a whole week to prepare for an opponent helped Mike Glennon turn in a strong performance for the Bears. How much Glennon helped himself to the Bears' starting quarterback job remains to be seen. Glennon capped an opening 96-yard drive with a 1-yard touchdown pass to Dion Sims as the Bears beat the Tennessee Titans 19-7 Sunday in the third preseason game. "We're very happy with the way Mike responded as far as a real game plan and what he did, I thought he played very well," said Fox, who also noted coaches will keep evaluating. Glennon was an efficient 11 of 18 for 134 yards passing despite losing starting wide receiver Cameron Meredith late in the first quarter. Meredith was carted off with a suspected left ACL injury, which Fox said must be checked by an MRI exam first. Having a week to prepare and study for an opponent fits Glennon's strengths. "That's kind of what I pride myself on, being well-prepared and working hard through the week," Glennon said. Mitchell Trubisky, the second overall pick out of North Carolina, opened the third quarter with the Bears' starters. But Trubisky threw two incompletions as the Bears (2-1) went three-and-out. Trubisky also fumbled a snap on his next series, though he rebounded with a 45-yard TD pass to Tanner Gentry for a 19-7 lead in the fourth quarter. The Titans (1-2) had issues on offense, defense, and special teams. The Bears could have led 14-0 if Adam Shaheen controlled the ball before going out of bounds after Roy Robertson-Harris blocked a punt into the end zone early in the second quarter. Instead, Chicago led 9-0 after referee Ed Hochuli finally changed his ruling of a touchback to a safety. Tennessee's offensive struggles prompted coach Mike Mularkey to keep his first-team in until Mariota tossed the ball to Derrick Henry on the first play of the fourth for a 3-yard TD run that kept Tennessee from being shut out. Mularkey said he wanted the first team to finish the drive in a game that featured too many mistakes. "We've got a lot of work to do," Mularkey said. "We've got two weeks to do it." COSTLY EXHIBITION Chicago left 11 Bears at home, and the injury list only grew longer early in Sunday's game. The worst injury came late in the first quarter when Meredith, who led Chicago with 66 catches for 888 yards, hurt his left knee when tackled low at the end of a 16-yard catch. Trainers braced his leg and carted him off the field. The Bears already had left three receivers at home. Cornerback Prince Amukamara played one series before leaving the game with an injured ankle, and the Bears also declared long snapper Patrick Scales out early in the second quarter with an injured knee. Both were on crutches after the game. Bears linebacker Leonard Floyd hurt a foot. HEY ROOKIE The Titans started Adoree Jackson at right cornerback, the first start this preseason for the 18th overall pick out of Southern California. Glennon threw at Jackson on the Bears' first play, a 9-yard completion to Zach Miller. Jackson also tackled Cameron Meredith at the end of a 28-yard catch on the opening drive. Sliding inside on passing downs, Jackson tackled former Titans receiver Kendall Wright on consecutive third down plays. Then Jackson was flagged for interference in the end zone, and Glennon capped the 96-yard drive on the next play. Jackson, who's trying to win the punt returner job, was tackled at his own 3 off his first attempt. TITANIC STRUGGLES The Titans gave up two sacks of Mariota along with a handful of penalties, including a face mask and a hold on Pro Bowl left tackle Taylor Lewan in the first half. Linebacker Wesley Woodyard sacked Glennon in the second quarter. Mariota finished 12 of 21 for 193 yards passing but was just 7 of 13 for 106 in the first half. EJECTIONS The Bears and Titans each lost a starter early in the second quarter. Titans left guard Quinton Spain kept his right arm on Bears defensive end Jaye Howard Jr.'s left shoulder as the play ended with Howard throwing a right at Spain's left shoulder. Spain threw a left at Howard's helmet who responded with his own right at Spain's head. Tyler Marz replaced Spain, and Mularkey said responding with a punch is "unacceptable." John Brown's recovery from a lingering quadriceps injury is not complete, as he says he's only about 80 percent healthy. Tell that to Atlanta's defensive backs. Brown caught two touchdown passes to lead the Arizona Cardinals to a 24-14 preseason win over the Atlanta Falcons on Saturday night in the debut of Mercedes-Benz Stadium. Brown showed off his speed when he caught a 28-yard scoring pass from Carson Palmer and a 21-yarder from Drew Stanton, each in the second quarter. "I'm not 100 percent, but I'm feeling way better than I did during training camp," Brown said. There are ongoing issues with the stadium's complicated retractable roof, which is expected to remain closed indefinitely. There were no glitches in the stadium's other bragging points, including a big halo video board. Brown's potent showing confirmed his status as the Cardinals' top downfield threat after he had been slowed by the injury. Last week, coach Bruce Arians said if Brown "can't run long enough, we've got to replace him." Arians was encouraged to see the deep threat have success against Atlanta's secondary. "It was good to see smoke out there," Arians said, confirmed Brown is not fully recovered but is "close." Brown's ability to recover quickly from injuries is affected by his 2016 diagnosis with sickle cell trait. He also left camp this week for a funeral in Miami and rejoined the team Friday night in Atlanta. The Atlanta offense fell flat in the stadium unveiling. Matt Ryan's pass on the Falcons' first play was intercepted by Tyrann Mathieu. "Turning the ball over on the first play is obviously not what you want to do," Ryan said. "We just never really got into a rhythm offensively, and that's something that we would have liked to have done in that first quarter of work." In the second quarter, Falcons backup Matt Schaub lost a fumble on his first snap when hit by linebacker Markus Golden. Chandler Jones recovered for Arizona (2-2), and one play later Brown made an over-the-shoulder grab for his 21-yard TD. Arizona rookie James Summers had a 5-yard scoring run in the fourth quarter. Falcons wide receiver Julio Jones made his preseason debut but did not have a catch. He has made a full recovery from offseason foot surgery and was targeted on a long pass from Ryan in the first quarter. "He wanted some shots down the field," said Falcons coach Dan Quinn of Jones. "He was anxious to show he had really put the work in from his rehab." Atlanta's No. 3 quarterback Matt Simms threw a 57-yard touchdown pass to rookie Josh Magee late in the game. Cardinals starting running back David Johnson did not play. Chris Johnson had six carries for 31 yards with a fumble that was recovered by guard Evan Boehm. QUARTERBACK COMPARISON Ryan, sharp in limited playing time in the first two preseason games for the Falcons (0-3), completed only 4 of 11 passes for 36 yards. Palmer completed 8 of 13 passes for 86 yards and a touchdown. Stanton, who beat out Blaine Gabbert to be Arizona's backup, completed 4 of 6 passes for 53 yards and a touchdown. TICKET COUNT There were 70,237 tickets distributed. The capacity for the new stadium is 71,000. It appeared at least one-third of the seats were empty. RIGHT GUARD BATTLE CONTINUES The Falcons' competition between Wes Schweitzer and Ben Garland for the starting job at right guard is not settled. Schweitzer started but shared time with Garland. "Next week it might be different," Quinn said, adding he expects the competition to continue through the preseason. "We're going to take this all the way," he said. INJURY UPDATE Cardinals: Backup DT Olsen Pierre suffered a concussion. ... OT Ulrick John walked off the field with an ankle injury. Arians said he didn't know the severity of John's injury. Falcons: Rookie RB Brian Hill, competing with Terron Ward for a backup spot, left in the third quarter with an ankle injury after rushing for 17 yards on 10 carries. Backup OT Kevin Graf also suffered an ankle injury, and LB LaRoy Reynolds suffered a shoulder injury. ... RB Devonta Freeman (concussion protocol) did not play. He was on the field but not in uniform for pregame drills. The New York Jets have acquired safety Terrence Brooks from the Philadelphia Eagles for cornerback Dexter McDougle in a trade of 2014 draft picks. The Eagles announced the deal Sunday. The moves provide depth for both teams' secondaries. The Jets are expected to start rookies Jamal Adams and Marcus Maye at safety but were thin at the position beyond them, with Rontez Miles dealing with an eye injury and Doug Middleton out for the season with a torn pectoral. Ronald Martin and Robenson Therezie were the only other safeties. Brooks was drafted in the third round by Baltimore, 79th overall - one pick ahead of McDougle. He spent his first two seasons with the Ravens and played with the Eagles last year. McDougle dealt with injuries during his first three seasons but has been having a solid summer for the Jets.

Movie TV Tech Geeks News

#Andy Dalton #Atlanta Falcons #Brian Hoyer #Featured #Houston Texans #NFL #Terrence Brooks

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fcumad · 7 years

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SC Paderborn 2 v 1 FC Sankt Pauli (DFB Pokal):

The cup. Excitement in a potentially otherwise mundane season. An early tie against a minnow in a ground with no roof, night games against the Bundesliga giants and finally a memorable trip to Berlin for the final. Not with FC Sankt Pauli. In my time following the Boys in Brown there has been one decent cup run and I didn’t get to see any of it live. I have however got to experience us lose in horrible towns like Münster (where summer scarf middle classers mix with inexplicably backward not rights from the neighbouring villages) or 24 hour trips to places like Chemnitz. And now I can add Paderborn to that list. The only redeeming feature about getting Paderborn in the draw is that it’s easy for to reach – helpful with an early evening kick-off on a Monday. Other than that, it’s a dull ground and somewhere I’ve been to loads.

Still in my work clothes, I headed up the motorway in the van and somehow beat the rest of the lads and lasses to the ground. A little chat here and there with friends from the North, a beer and a slice of pizza and the ground started to fill up. We perched near the stairwell in a fairly full away end, the rest of the ground also with only a few gaps. A word regarding Paderborn. They got up into the 1st division a few seasons ago. The club put the prices up immediately. Recently they only escaped relegation to the fourth division as 1860 went bust. Their average attendance in 2016 was something like 5k. Yesterday it was 15k. Where in recent memory their fans organised a choreo across the whole of the home terrace, yesterday a small block of a few hundred was all that you could count as active fans. Great swathes are the sort of people whose excitement on a weekend normally restricts itself to doing the „big shop“ or perhaps planning a new kitchen. Yet here they were, identical Paderborn scarves in their hands. It’s always a disappointment to provide any kind of joy to those types of people.

The first half an hour drifted by. The usual poor atmosphere in the away end with its crap roof, and little happening on the pitch. Bouhaddouz (still out of form) missed a sitter with a header. If that had gone in, we might be looking forward to the draw for the second round. I really can't wait until he spawns an open goal. He just needs a little confidence boost and his touch will return. At present, it’s painful to watch. Just on the stroke of halftime, as we sat ever further back, passes getting increasingly uninventive and looser, one of the Paderborn players spanked one into the top corner. It looked kind of lucky live, on the replays you realise what a hit and hope it was. It didn't matter though for them. 1-0.

Despite changes, the second half wasn't much better for us. We look structureless, relying increasingly on the tactic „give the ball to one of the fast ones and see if he can run it goalwards on his own“. The defence was once again full of holes too. We had 20 minutes of effort at most and that was still chaotic. Several more chances went begging for Paderborn and then they scored again. All over. Although we had increased our level of effort, it could well have ended up at 3-0. As it was Allagui pulled one back, causing a proper goon in our end, and nearly resulting me in wrecking my shoulder again. With Sobeich out with a head injury and all three subs made, we played on with 10 men and couldn’t force the equaliser. The final whistle came and with it being a school night and fuck all to do around the ground, we said our goodbyes and headed home.

3 days to recover. Then it’s Darmstadt. I don’t have high hopes but I’d love to be proven wrong.

#fcsp #sc paderborn

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andrewuttaro · 4 years

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State of the Support (S2-Ep.4): Partnership

State of the Support is a reoccurring series on American professional soccer written from a fan perspective. This series will follow the ups and downs of Soccer Support in Rochester, NY and the surrounding region in one of its most trying times in decades.

It was a little over a year ago I last wrote about the Rochester Rhinos specific eye for local Youth development in their strategy for returning to the field as a professional squad. In August 2019 we lived in a different world but for Rhinos fans it was not too different than where we are today. No official word on the future of the organization had emerged in almost a year and big structural questions about the future were being asked. Just like a year ago we are suddenly treated to a welcomed update.

Just like a year ago we learn the future of the Rhinos will grow from a Youth Academy basis with an eye for the local in developing talent for the First Team.

Empire United and the Rochester Rhinos will team up in a partnership for developing local soccer talent in a Path-to-Pro system. Empire United is a local youth soccer development academy that came about in 2007 upon the merger of Buffalo United Soccer Club, Syracuse Football Academy and the Rochester Junior Rhinos. The group is a 501c3 not-for-profit containing several different age cohorts of youth teams ranging from 7 years of age all the way up to 19. Empire United Soccer Academy is a member of the US Soccer Federation backed Development Academy system.

The one thing that is plainly apparent in this news is that the Rhinos organization is putting its money where its mouth is and making a big tangible step toward making local talent development a priority. For Empire this is giving their most gifted graduates a clear gateway into the professional ranks once the Rhinos return to the field. For the Rhinos organization it means access to Empire United’s John Street facility in Henrietta, NY which contains many development amenities that would bring the Rhinos on par with other development-minded Pro Clubs in the USL ecosystem. This does however lead us to where it gets a bit more complicated.

The Empire United press release identifies the partnership as beginning in 2021-2022 where it directly links the development academy with the “First Team”. The announcement states that facility will host the first team at some point. Contrary to what you may believe that does not necessarily mean the John Street facility is the future home field of the professional team. Yes, rumor has it Empire United has been desirous of building more outdoor fields on their property so it then follows that one of those could be a stadium if the Rhinos move there. The operative word there is rumor. So I reached out to Rochester Rhinos Chief Soccer Officer and President Pat Ercoli for further clarification on this new relationship. He responded to each of my six questions in kind. I thought I would let this exchange speak for itself below. My questions are in black while Pat Ercoli’s responses are in red. Ercoli’s responses have not been edited in any way.

Q1: Is the aforementioned outdoor field next door to the [Empire United facility] building the future outdoor venue for Rhinos games?

Ercoli: We have not yet decided where the Rhinos will play.

Q2: Does the Rhinos Front Office including yourself, Mr. Stanton, and the Dworkins plan on moving into the office space at this location?

Ercoli: We are not intending to move our offices there.

Q3: Does this new location signal a potential partnership of any kind with the nearby Rochester Institute of Technology?

Ercoli: The strategic alliance with the Empire does not signal any subsequent partnership outside of Empire at this time.

Q4: Is this confirmation that the First Team [Rochester Rhinos] will return to play in 2022 in USL League One?

Ercoli: It is not.

Q5: Given Empire United’s development model should we expect the majority of Rochester Rhinos players to be locals brought through the Empire United system come 2022?

Ercoli: It does not mean the majority of players will be local but it does absolutely mean that local players will have enhanced opportunities to train and tryout for the First Team.

Q6: Is there a more specific timeline for the “…future announcements in the coming months” regarding the professional first team in USL1?

Ercoli: Not at this time. I know its not much but we are a work in progress.

Ercoli’s comments bring clarity to the Rhinos actual organizational stance at the moment. This partnership is clearly a promise to the greater Rochester region. That is to say when the professional side does return it will do so for the explicit benefit of talent from this region. That is more or less all it means at this point. However, and this is the lowkey headline in this news: it does mean that the Rochester Rhinos, in their current administration, will indeed return to the field for professional play at some point barring unforeseen circumstances.

In other words: the light at the end of the hiatus tunnel may not be visible yet but we now know that there is an end of the tunnel. This is something we have not been able to say with even this much certainty since 2017. There is no hard date for a return for the professional side in this news, but it does allow us to be as sure as we can be that the club that brought pro soccer back to Rochester in 1996 will continue to exist. The Rhinos will play again one day.

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This past week saw the first matchup of the National Independent Soccer Association (NISA)’s Battle of New York. The New York Cosmos versus the brand new NYC club in New Amsterdam FC is the league’s response to Major League Soccer (MLS)’s NYCFC versus New York Red Bulls. If a positively feral show is how they hoped to start this rivalry they very much succeeded. The 3-1 Cosmos win last Friday featured everything from an owner subbing in as goalie to a red card infraction that merited the upstart league issuing its first season-long suspension of a player.

Emmanuele Sembroni was assessed a red card in the 57th minute of the match after he apparently stomped on the head and shoulders of NAFC player Danny Vincente he had just fallen to the turf with. The penalty was noticed immediately by fans and became a rallying cry against Sembroni calling for his suspension beyond the red card mandated next match. While fans called for a lifetime ban the NISA League Office ended up simply suspending him through the remainder of the Fall Season. The Cosmos did not appeal the decision and condemned the unsportsmanlike conduct. The Cosmos released Sembroni through they struck a hopeful tone in their statement.

To say that wasn’t even the craziest thing to happen in this match might go to show how NISA has quickly become the wild west of professional American soccer. New Amsterdam’s owner Laurence Girard came into his team’s net after halftime and the reasoning is a bit difficult to discern. What isn’t hard to discern is USMNT legend Eric Wynalda. He was hired as Head Coach the week prior but did not attend this game due to strep throat. A precautionary COVID-19 test came back negative.

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As of the posting of this article Major League Soccer is the only American Soccer organization to postpone games as a result of players boycotting for racial justice. The protest that originated with the WNBA and NBA yesterday spread to MLS who postponed yesterday’s games. USL, NISA as well as the country’s numerous amateur leagues have not made any similar stance as of yet. It is the opinion of this blogger that Black Lives Matter and player protests of this sort are powerful forces for awareness and activism in public life.

I’m always open to thoughts and insights @Pastagut on Twitter and right here at uttarosports.tumblr.com. It would seem that soccer in most of this country has found something of a comfort zone playing during these unprecedented times. I will be posting again as more information comes out on the Rhinos new partnership with Empire United and soccer in general in our part of the country. In the meantime, please stay safe.

Thanks for Reading.

#ROC #Soccer #NISA #USL #NAFC #NYCosmos

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luckylq34-blog · 4 years

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Sometimes the looking glass looked back

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consciouswhispers2929 · 4 years

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You Never Told Me That This Was The Last Time...

Martin stood at his bedroom door staring at the two beds that were placed on either side of the room. One on the left for him and one on the right for his brother George. It was just the two of them ever since they were kids. Martin was 19, George was 20. Martin's bed was with a thick blue bed cover that was thick enough to be a blanket as well because of the design. He had his favourite gray bed sheets on a queen size bed. Two thick pillows, dark brown head board that was simple in its design. Rectangular with two small rectangular spaces on either sides of the head board. He had a night stand on his the right hand side of the bed which was small, and it had only one drawer and a bigger space underneath for his lotions, deodorant and cologne. He used to keep his wallet in his drawer and his smartphone on the night stand itself, right in the middle. Next to it on the right corner of the night stand was a long lamp that could bend to any direction he wanted it to. Martin used to like pointing it to the bed to read his books. Having the perfect arrangement in his sides of the room was part of his OCD. Just near the door was the shared and vast table where they used to do their homework together ever since their childhood. That's where George would help Martin with his homework. On the left hand side of Martin's bed was the long stretch they knew to be their cupboard. Martin had his side for his clothes, George had his on the right side. In the middle there was a space for the flatscreen LG smart TV and a compartment underneath for the decoder and under that their Play Station. They always bought a new one when it got out because their father was rich, so they could.Over to the right side was George's personal space. George had a green bed cover with the same fabric and design as Martin's but he had dark blue bed sheets and two pillows. Also a queen sizes bed, same head board design. He also had a night stand but on his left side of the bad cause the head boards were on either side of the walls with the foot of each bed directly opposite to one another. George was laying in his bed with the remote in his right hand, flipping channels. He settled on the crime channel. He was in a white shirt and gray boxers with checked blue boxes on them. He had white socks and his jeans were on the floor next to his shoes. They both had mats next to where their beds, same white colour for uniform. That's where they would place their house shoes.

George turned his head and acknowledged Martin standing at the door. George had brown eyes but was chocolate brown with no facial hair. He had fake dreads for a hairdo and a boxed forehead. He had thick eyebrows but well shaped. He had long eyelashes for a guy but they complimented his eyes. He had a long face and pronounced cheek bones just like Martin cause they both looked like their dad. But each of them had a hint of their mother's characteristics. Martin had his mother's dimples and George the thick eyebrows. George flashed a smile when his eyes met with Martin's who was now walking towards his bed and laid in it."I hope you haven't spoiled the toilet cause I was planning to take a shower." George said. Martin shrugged and sat back with his back on the head board. "When you have to go you have to go, man." Martin replied while blushing with some embarrassment."I knew it." George laughed and sat up to cross his knees and returned his attention to the TV cause there was another development in the case he was watching. Martin lifted his right hand and showing his palm replying, "It's not like you've never taken a dump in your life. Mwanzo you the way your dumps are like lethal reactions?!!" and he gave a sly wink. George laughed and said, "Kwenda."They both started watching the show. They were concentrating on the case of the lady who was found dead in hour house as they had a list of suspects based on the chain of events with the deceased's fights with the neighbour because the neighbour is the one who found her. The deceased lady had been dead a week. Martin turned his dark eyes on the bed and remarked, "It must really have sucked for this mama to have died and decomposed for a week before the neighbour had found her. It's like she died like an animal.""Me I think the neighbour did it cause they were always seen when they were fighting." George responded but his eyes were fixed on the screen. Martin started rubbing his rouged face and picked up his phone to check the messages that were coming in on Facebook. He wasn't always an active member online because he always believed in the meaningful face to face human interaction. Something that no social media platform could imitate. This was his time to be online cause he had just finished his A levels and he was free as a bird. He was studying at GEMS which was relatively new and he was just waiting for his results to be accepted in the University of Melbourne, Australia. George was in the middle of a gap year, taking his time before he did a serious degree in Architecture just like their father. Martin wanted to do sports medicine and it was always his dream to be an athlete's doctor or a sports team doctor, which inspired him to pick medicine as a degree once he got to uni. Even if they were both sharp minds, George had a habit of picking on his younger brother simply because he was younger. They both had muscular build like athletes because they were also fit for sports and loved watching football."Wewe, it's 18:30 has the match started?" asked Martin who was an Arsenal fan, even though they weren't playing high profile games anymore like the Champions League."Your team is still useless. I don't know why you like watching them. You know we're gonna win." George replied teasingly with a bit of a chuckle. George was a Chelsea fan. But Martin never wavered. He was more of an emotional think than George. But he was still a logical thinker. George was the opposite; a logical thinker who was still somewhat in touch with his emotions.

George switch the channel to super sport 3. It was Arsenal versus Chelsea. The game had just started. There was complete silence in the room for the 15 minutes that the commentators were introducing the line ups for each team, making last minute remarks and predictions for the game. Both teams were on form in their last 5 matches. Arsenal qualified for Europa and Chelsea was doing better because they were sitting at number 4 in the premier league table. This was a big premier league match."You think Liverpool's gonna win the league? The way they're always messing up at the last minute? Me I don't want City to take it." Martin commented while staring at George who was still glued to the screen cause I was thinking about the line up and formation of his team. Martin started fiddling with his phone and then returned his gaze to the screen just before kick off. George could tell from his periphery that Martin felt snubbed, so he gave Martin a serious look and said, "I don't think they can screw this this time around like the other seasons. Otherwise Klopp will definitely get sacked."George pinched his nose and then sniffed because he could feel a sneeze coming. He had hay fever.The watched the game for a few minutes and it seemed like an evenly matched game with equal possession. No real threats to goal were made from either team cause their defences were doing a good job so far, 35 minutes in. Martin sat upright with his legs crossed just like George. They had habits that rubbed off on each other. George increased the volume and adjusted the screen mode to enhance the colours of the screen to watch the match more clearly. He changed the audio to cinema mode and it activated the speakers on the sides. There was a sub-woofer at the bottom and now the game was loud enough to make their room feel like they were in that very football stadium. Then after a couple more minutes, it seemed as though Chelsea were really making a threat towards the Gunner's goal. Arsenal sat back in defence and the red shirts were everywhere. But Chelsea was in control now, the sudden change in possession showed their dominance this early in the game. George smiled and tilted his head and said, "What did I tell you. Now your guys just have to sit back for long enough to make a mistake and there will definitely be a goal in the first half.""You just wait for the counter." Martin assured with a confident smile. For the last remaining minutes of the first half, there were counters from the Arsenal side and the game resembled a ping pong match with the ball mostly staying in the midfield while not staying in each other's Ds long enough to build a solid play. And that's how the first half seemed like it was meant to be. The commentators kept commenting about the transfer window. They discussed a possible departure of Arsenal's star midfielder Mesut Özil, and they were brainstorming about some of the clubs he could go to to keep his career intact. Eventually, the game reached halftime and they were passively watching the commercials while commenting here and there about the teams and their first half performance.

"Can you imagine being a doctor on your favourite team? As in seeing the players everyday and earning tickets for the perfect seat to watch the game? I'd probably sit with theplayers, like the subs." Martin was thinking out loud and he was day dreaming the thought of that becoming his reality one day. George let out a smirk and replied, "Eh... that's not something I would want to do even though I loved my team. Okay... if it was about watching the matches live, I'd definitely do that, but that's about as much commitment I'll be making as a fan." then he smiled. Martin suddenly lit up and added enthusiastically, "We should go to England together one day and watch at least one match. Aussie only have rugby going for them. They don't get to fully appreciate football the way we do.""Well, it's not like Kenya's doing any better with their premier league. The British just rubbed off on us." George pointed out. They watched the halftime analysis coming to a close with a little bit of senseless commercials about phone carriers and data plans. A little about Car insurance companies and winter sale of SUVs. And then, the unthinkable happened... the lights went. That's definitely something they weren't expecting, and no sports fan would ever want that to happen. They both let out a sigh at the same time. George slapped his right palm on his face asking, "Aww, man. What are the odds?" and Martin was in silent agreement.Martin's face was focused on the fabric and patters of his bed while he was rubbing his bare toes. Then he said softly, "I don't know if I wanna go.""Where?" George asked because it peaked his curiosity."Aussie," Martin replied, "I know we were supposed to end up in Melbourne together to make living and accommodation easier. And I know people call me smart and all, but I don't know whether I'll make it being in the country for the first time on my own. I mean, you've travelled a lot like that trip you made after A levels. But what if I fail the first year of medicine? I'll just become another statistic.""Lots of people flunk out of uni regardless of what course they're studying, but I don't think you'll be one of them, that I'm sure of. Medicine is obviously hard but you have tobelieve in your intelligence and yourself. Otherwise you won't have a very good time there." said George in a solemn tone. He fidgeted a bit and then added, "I know you're supposed to depend on me as your older brother but some day you're gonna have to do some of these things on your own because one day, someone else will look up to you and depend on you. And you have to be ready for that."And he was right. Martin had a lot of good things going for him. He had the whole package of an ideal millenial of his time. Intelligence, looks which George had too and the determination that fueled his hunger for knowledge. That's why he was always reading so much. They were both readers but Martin was more studious. And reading was a habitthat was instilled in them by their parents, Boris and Linda Scott. A rare surname in Kenya but synonymous with Luos. Their parents always advised them on the importance of searching for knowledge because they themselves were very successful. Which explains the reason why the two brothers were born and lived in comfort, the best that money could buy. The house they were living in was designed by their father Boris decades ago, but it looked timeless. He made sure he imported majority of the materials that went intothe building of that house. It was the envy of their neighbours' average houses. They had 4 bedrooms inclusive of the masters bedroom. It consisted oft he masters bedroom which looked like a presidential suite of a 5 star hotel, Jacuzzi and everything. There was always a spare room which was converted into Boris' office. The third one was saved for their sister Stacy who Linda was expecting. So the parents thought it would be better for the boys to share a room and the only girl to have her own for privacy. Boris made his big break when he was contracted to design the new Tollo Hotel near the CBD. He met Linda when she was one of the chefs who was supposed to work at the said hotel. She became a house wife after they married because they had enough, but she always wanted to go back to be productive.

Since George and Martin weren't so far apart and there was only a year between them, they learned to be best friends. They were dressed the same as kids and they did everything together, even when they were getting into trouble. George was particularly protective of Martin in school to stop him from being bullied. And they were never bothered by the deafening sound of silence because they were never that talkative, these two.Martin snapped out of his daydream and felt something rubbing his right shoulder, but he couldn't see anything there. He felt it again and saw nothing, again. Then he noticed a bright light piercing the tinted French windows. He heard the echo of a woman, faintly in the background saying, "I think he's waking up."There was a blurr and he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was a nurse standing on his right side with a yellow sponge. She was wearing blue scrubs and there was a tag with her name on her left breast saying Melinda. He scanned the room and noticed he wasn't in his bed. He was in a hospital bed that was adjusted to keep him upright for the bath the nurse Melinda was performing on him. There was one large window on his left hand side of the room and it had a mesh to stop the mosquitoes coming in at night but still givingMartin fresh air. The chills that were entering the room suggested it was mid morning. The sun kissed his skin but it wasn't hot enough to keep him warm. There were two black chairs right under the window for visitors who would come and see their patients. He looked straight ahead and noticed a door ajar and it led to what looked like a bathroom and toilet. Melinda gave him a warm smile and said, "Welcome back. We almost lost you there. You're a lucky kid.""What?""You're in Karengatta hospital. Do you know who you are?" she asked and gave him time to absorb the state which he just woke up to."Yes.""Good," she congratulated him, "What's the last thing that you remember?"He was silent and overwhelmed. Noticing the confusion in his facial expression, she excused herself to go get the doctor. 5 minutes later, his uncle Daniel, Boris, Linda and the doctor walked in. Linda locked eyes with Martin and hers were immediately filled with tears but she was smiling. "Oh thank you God!" she cried and rushed to his left side blocking him from the sun and breaking the wind that was coming in. She was light skinned. She had dark eyes just like Martin. She was wearing a stylish cream top with pink rose patterns.her coat was mustard as well as her frilled skirt which reached just below the knee. She wore cream flats because she needed to wear comfortably for a 6 month pregnant woman.She had a pearl necklace and bracelet to match. Her slender fingers stroked Martin's forehead as he looked across the room and remembered his father and Uncle Daniel were there. They were standing beside each other. His father was with a serious face as always, but not so serious to hide his relief that his son was awake. Boris was dark chocolate. He had distinguished white hair and a receding hairline. His hair was always shaved, short enough to hide the receding hairline. He kept a moustache that was stained with a few gray hairs, and took care of it's length but he had to shave the whole beard because it was always growing wildly and rapidly. He was tall with an average build, not too muscular but his age showed. He wore a white t shirt and a turquoise tie, no coat, he hated coats and only wore them when he was going in for an important meeting. He had a Breitling luxury watch on his right hand and loved luxury watches for the novelty of it."Looks like you came around just in time." he said, "We were almost giving up on you."Linda laughed, still tearing up and staring in wonder over the miracle of Martin finally being awake. From his father's statement, Martin was putting the pieces together and thought he had been out for a while and they were probably going to pull the plug.Uncle Daniel stepped forward and took slow steps towards Martin and began explaining to him what happened. "You're in our hospital Martin because you had an accident. You and George were in the Lexus and George lost control of the wheel veering you off the Lenana road hitting the trees. I think the car was skidding because of the wet road cause it was raining that night. The oncoming vehicle was a lorry with bright lights that must have blinded George and that's how you went off the road. You jumped straight through the windshield and hit the trees. The car's been written off."This was Daniel Scott's hospital and he was the leading surgeon there. But when he heard about Martin's case, he made sure that Martin got round the clock care. He would check on him everyday and send various specialists to tend to his needs while he was in a coma. His mother Linda would visit everyday and talk to him hoping he could hear and remember everything once he woke up. She never gave up on him. The night before he woke up the three of them talked to the top doctors of the hospital and they were debating whether they should pull the plug. Linda vehemently opposed it and Boris didn't want to argue because she was Martin's next of kin. They'd agreed to wait one more day and do more tests for brain activity and they were supposed to make a decision in 24 hours. Now Martin was awake, struggling to recollect the last moments before he ended up in a hospital bed with all these wounds. The morphine started wearing off and he noticed he was scarred in many places. Now is when he was aware that his face had cuts and bruises because of the impact of the windshield Daniel said he broke through. The third doctor was doctor Steven Onyancha, the leading specialist on brain injuries who was assigned to this case by uncle Daniel because Daniel couldn't operate on family. He had frame-less glasses and was very dark with a symmetrical beard. He was also bald and was wearing a white coat and green scrubs.

"Don't stress yourself if you can't remember everything because this is common in cases such as yours." said the doctor with a deep voice. "Your memory will come back eventually but not immediately. Just give yourself time. Your family can help you remember and offer you the social support you need at this time."Martin remembered the white lights of the lorry before veering off the road and remembered George driving. So he asked, "What about George though? Can I see him?"Silence pervaded the room and he was wondering why everyone kept quiet. It didn't take long for Linda to march out of the room bursting into tears. This alarmed Martin because he became confused. "It's okay Steve, we'll take it from here." said Boris, to which the doctor nodded and left the room with the nurse. Daniel sat down on the chair closest to the bed. He leaned in and clasped his hands together, as if he was planning to say something sensitive. Boris walked to the window and leaned his back on the wall next to it. Quiet. Arms crossed looking down on the ground. George, Martin thought. Something happened to George."Martin, you've been in a coma for a little over a month now. You barely survived." uncle Daniel explained. "Where's George?" Martin insisted. He looked at his father who was avoiding his eyes now. Then he stared back at Daniel who said this in the softest manner, "The car on the drivers seat was crushed beyond recognition because of the roll. George was stabbed by the metal of the car and bled out. He died on the impact."He died on the impact. Those words kept ringing in Martin's mind. He was so shocked and dazed that he forgot anyone else that was in the room when he entered a trance. He remembered he and George dressing to leave the house. Then he remembered stealing the car with George to go to a party without permission. He remembered the party and having too much to drink with hazy memories about what could have happened that night."You already buried him?""Yes." his father answered.There was silence for at least 20 minutes. Martin had more questions than answers now. The whole time he was talking to George he was dreaming but he wasn't so sure that it was real because it felt real in most parts. Now he's woken up to hear that George is dead. As he replayed the dream in his head, he could remember the words that George told him in their room. "I know you're supposed to depend on me as your older brother but some day you're gonna have to do some of these things on your own because one day, someone else will look up to you and depend on you. And you have to be ready for that."

Who the hell was he talking to?

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