it’s sunday and idk about y'all but i love a theme and the theme of this week just so happens to be ‘touch your teammate/opponent/anyone within a five mile radius on the arm/tummy/???’.
that’s right, cp23, it’s one of those posts. special s/o to the anon who brought this lingering tummy pat to my attention which made me realize THIS SHIT IS HAPPENING ALL THE TIME. let us begin:
idk why anyone thinks soccer is ever being played because the real crisis here is jess fishlock HAS SOMETHING ON HER CHEEK. thank FUCK megan rapinoe was able to act swiftly during this moment of sheer terror and panic to thoroughly abscond the rogue eyelash/grass blade/drop of dew from fishlock’s pristine visage or else this game would have been cancelled.
post tournament of nations summer series what part of lindsey horan’s body was just screaming out for alyssa naeher to beeline across a field and lovingly touch? that’s right friends, her... shoulder. i am including this because 1) uncle naeher was legit On A Mission and 2) something tells me a padded-glove shoulder-tap is to alyssa naeher what a fucking french kiss to the rest of us. so, rejoice or whatever.
speaking of lindsey, i have a very serious question for you to ponder at your leisure: have you ever seen her more positively DELIGHTED than when she is in the warm embrace of one half of preath? now take a second to ponder all the ways mark parsons might ruin this, even from the netherlands.
not that anyone needs to be micro-dosing depression at the bitter end of a two year global pandemic, but if you were wondering what a REAL tournament of nations lower-back/tummy-pat combo looks like, here ya go. this was *checks notes* 2018.
also, if you have never watched a season of women’s professional basketball, please let sabrina ionescu giving rebecca allen this completely unprompted ass pat convince you that this is the season to start. first of all, it’s good. second of all, it’s gay. idk what else to say.
speaking of the new york liberty (jfc, iykyk), they played the las vegas aces on three miserable occasions this week and lost every single time. in one such game, they were down 23 points with 3 minutes left in the 4th quarter, aka, a def con situation, and if you think this would be an excellent time to throw up your hands and go ‘fuck it, let’s flirt with the opposition’... you would be correct!!! enjoy these *very* specific shit-eating grins.
if for some reason you think wnba flirting is limited to teammates and, obviously, opponents, let me present with all my might sophie cunningham of the phoenix mercury extending the flirtatious olive branch to none other than a referee. not only does thiccums (her name for herself, but uh, respectfully, i get it) saunter over while tugging on her shorts like some bashful five-year-old, she initially restrains herself because sports, but then gives tf in to physical contact with the hot chick who happens to be calling this game in favor of the other team, all while lingering in the foreground of some free throws. when i tell you i screamed.
poor sami whitcomb is a little beat up here but regardless, is this not the daintiest head pat a teammate has ever given to their fallen comrade? she’s gonna be just fine after this neon angelic touch.
lol shuffle along gals and happy pride friends. be gay do crime. god speed.
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