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alolanrain · 3 years

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What if I mix my Council!au and my TA!au?

Like Professor Kukui is having trouble with his class but like not academically but more so on the Pokémon front, if that makes sense?? Like the class is super smart with science, arts, history, all that but they just can’t get the hang of Pokémon in general.

Kiawe only really see’s the Pokémon under his care as tools/distant companions. He loves them of course, like a lot, but he’s only ever grown up around farm Pokémon that have a purpose. He doesn’t see battling as something he can do.

Of course there’s Lillie and her problems.

Mallow is to busy helping her dad run the restaurant, not like they don’t have employees or anything she just likes helping to much, which ends up neglecting her Bounsweet. Like it’s fed and exercise by helping around where it can in the restaurant but it can’t really battle in case Mallow gets in a tough situation.

Lana is just a normal distant girl and Popplio needs someone who can bounce energy off. It does have the twins so it’s not really lacking but Popplio and Lana really need to work on their coordination and their friendship.

So far Sophocles and Togedemaru are the farthest in the Pokémon front of the curriculum but Sophocles babies Togedemaru to much. It’s obvious that the electric ‘Mon wants to get stronger and battle, it certainly has the spirit for it, but Sophocles is scared to battle. Less so then Lillie but he’s very close to her level.

Since it’s a Pokémon School Principle Oak has to step up and personally tell Kukui that if he doesn’t get his class moving in the Pokémon section then their all going to be held back a year and for the class to be split up. Kukui obviously not wanting this for his class ask’s the principal what he can do.

This is where Ash steps in. Fresh in from Kalos and desperately needing a place to relax with no high end stress adventures, hah.

Principal Oak talks to Hala and Koke, the Council member of Melemele and the human body of Tapu Koko not that they know, and asks for advice. Koke immediately jumps in. Knowing the perfect person for the job.

That’s how Ash physically comes into the picture. He’ll be staying with Koke since the council member lives in a giant house and he’s seen the extensive list of Pokémon held under Ash’s name so if he wants to bring them over he can. Along with having his own office and secluded bedroom. Which is something Kukui can’t give him.

Ash is around 19 to 21 in this, just a general age if anyone else wants to take a crack at this au for a fic, and is a bit miffed from being pulled away from home but is quickly calmed down when he finds out it’s not somewhere cold and damp but warm and dry-if a bit humid.

So Ash comes and the class is very weary for the first week but slowly warm up to him.

Especially when Tapu Koko makes himself known after the first week near the end of the school day to offer Ash a Zring with an ElectriumZ.

Ash is rightfully confused but excepts, you always except a Gods gift no matter how small and stupidly dinky or extravagant and rare it is, and the class gets excited after their shock comes off.

This is the first time they truly bond as Ash asks them to teach him about the Zring and the culture. He gets even more confused and ask’s why they don’t have one/can’t do it with their Pokémon. This gets them flustered and Ash finds the perfect little cranny in a tall rock to start climbing in.

Ash: if Tapu Koko thinks I can do it, a non-native, then why can’t you?

Them: well... we can’t.

Ash: have you at least tried?

Them:... no

Ash: then let’s learn together. Let’s teach each other and build ourselves and our Pokémon up to be something strong and great.

Ash is a sculpted leader, definitely not a natural born, and with how many people and Pokémon he’s met it’s easy to find the right way to get through everyone. his hardest is obviously Kiawe but also Lana out of all of them. She’s to timid and shy and Mallow keeps coming to her rescue.

Also to note that these kids are in their middle school/beginning of high school age group so their attitude varies so much.

#help me name this au #I’m so sorry I’m on mobile #ash ketchum #mallow #Lana #Lillie #kiawe #sophocles #principal oak #Professor kukui #human!Tapu koko #Kahuna Hala

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mousepal-archive · 3 years

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i think the worst thing about today is the reason i went to that specific mall is becuz the kokee tea there had banana milk tea flavor which is only at that kokee tea in particular and so i got it and it wasnt good :( the one i had years ago was rlly sweet and yellow but this one had i think more tea in it becuz it had a rlly bad/strong after taste and i thought i was just being picky but my dad tried it and said the same thing so that was also sad

#meek.txt #i think i might try to make my own #they didnt have rainbow jelly either only mango #and i dont rlly like mango so...rip

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theexistentialistdancer · 4 years

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A Eulogy for Roxie

I remember when I first saw Roxie as a puppy, outside the gates of the Mena House golf course. I thought she was a boy dog since she didn’t have anything distinctively girly about her. Her nose was long and narrow, and she was born with no tail and was very small. I couldn’t catch her and so I tried to remember I can’t save every dog. She disappeared for awhile and then when I brought the floof to the shop, she resurfaced and I discovered she was a girl and she was super smart and friendly. She would play with the floof and they had a blast together, and I kinda tried to keep my distance because at that point I already had collected the floof to re-home and I was overwhelmed at having two dogs. As a dog-lover, this is the hardest thing in the world to do, since my instinct is to save all the dogs I see on the streets, but I have serious limitations. I didn’t have the space or the funds or the living environment to have a dog, and that is why the floof was up for adoption. She was older than the floof and was scrappy and a bit of a short stack - definitely fun sized. She never did get very large, but was stocky and developed an elegant beauty about her. Even as a puppy, she had a mind of her own. I would tether the floof to a chain outside the shop, and Roxie was so smart. She knew how to lift the end of the leash off the anchor and free the floof to play with him, and when they would play together on the golf course, she would try to take his leash off of him. She acted like he needed to be freed because he had a harness on, and she LOVED to be independent and run. I nicknamed her “the floof’s girlfriend” and felt so sad I couldn’t take both of them home with me every day. I prayed her sassy attitude and street smarts would keep her safe, since a puppy surviving past nursing is impressive in the pyramids area.

After the floof left (he was adopted in Boston and is now named Malik), I still hung out with Roxie, who did not have a name yet. I was hesitant to name her because my heart had been so broken by all the other dogs that I had tried to save and failed, but she was street-wise, sweet, and quickly became my shop buddy. I fed her every day and looked for her, but she truly became mine when she had an emergency. Her back left foot had been run over by a car and her bones and muscles were exposed. I found out that it had been like that for about 12 hours. I scooped her up with Kokee and took her to the vet, and she was an absolute dream in the car. She acted like she had been preparing for that moment her whole life, as she had seen the floof leave in the car many times. She looked out the window and made herself right at home. She took many car rides after that, and she was the queen: always looking out the window and challenging the dogs we passed as if to tell them she had arrived.

We got to the vet and bandaged and cleaned her foot; it was not as bad as it seemed. Her toenail never did grow right again, but she eventually regained almost total use of her foot. She sat at the vet and let him work on her injury like she couldn’t even be bothered to look at it. That was her personality exactly; whenever something uncomfortable happened, she was perfectly aloof until it passed. She was the perfect family dog: tolerant, patient, smart, and independent. We had to change her bandages every 24 hours and clean and put glycerin on her wound. I know it hurt her a lot, but she was so quiet and calm and let us help her every day.

While at the vet, we discovered she needed to be spayed as soon as possible as she was older than I thought, so we scheduled her surgery. She was super happy staying in boarding, since she got to eat lots of fancy food. The vet laughed at this shaabi baladi dog staying in the same kennels as fancy breeds, but by that time I was already known as the crazy foreigner who brought baladi dogs to get help. We got her all her injections and she had a fancy “pet passport” issued to her. Not long after she was finished with her surgery, Velma arrived.

Velma was a tiny puppy with floppy ears, lanky legs, and velvety fur, and like Roxie, she had no mother to be found. She latched onto Roxie immediately, Roxie was the street-wise, gang boss to Velma’s mushiness, and they perfectly balanced each other. I declared them sisters and finally gave them their official names: Roxie, after Roxie Hart in Chicago (a name that had just stuck with me for her from the beginning), and Velma as her sidekick.

And so there we were, at our shop by the pyramids: me, Roxie, and Velma. All day, I sat with my dog family and played with them, laughed while they sneaked into the shop to nap, fed them chicken, and trained them to sit. I scratched their ears and sat on the ground with them against all the norms of Egypt, and we had beautiful days. I laughed at how they would steal sandwiches from the cafe next to the shop, and could push the door open to sleep in the air conditioning. Velma loved water so she would go find a nasty puddle to splash around in, and she showed Roxie how to do the same. Velma sat like a baby seal and had to be touching Roxie at all times, and Roxie grumbled in return but tolerated tiny Velma’s love. Roxie was not an overly affectionate dog, but she was loving when she wanted to be. She would give nibbles with her front teeth and liked to sleep up against your back, or with her head pressed up against your leg. I wanted to take them home with me, but I live in a shared house with people who do not like dogs inside and the shop always had people to look out for them, so I had to believe they were as safe as could be arranged in my situation. They were like farm dogs: independent and self-sufficient, and intent on going and visiting anyone they wanted. Roxie had a air of royalty about her, and I declared her the queen of the Haram Street Hooligans, an original gangster. But then one day, animal control came through the area and tried to collect dogs. Roxie hid, but Velma was scooped up until Mimo, Kokee’s dad, saved her. After that, we put them up on the shop roof at night to keep them safe when there was no one around.

Thus began the battle of the roof versus street for my two dogs. For Roxie and Velma to stay on the roof, they needed daily water and food, which was sometimes difficult with timing. But they were not allowed to come to my house, so the roof would have to be the best solution. I went every day and made sure they had fresh water and food. People would also let them down to the street during the day, but wouldn’t put them up again at night, not understanding what the big deal was for me to keep them safe. Once, the upstairs door wasn’t secured and they came down to the shop and chewed up some papyrus before taking a nap. Sometimes I had shows so I wouldn’t be back by the shop until late, and then I would discover they had not been put up. I tried to find a home for them, but because they are considered “common” dogs, I was unsuccessful because baladi dogs are everywhere in Giza, and I did not want to split them up. I was their caretaker, the end. With regular poisonings and morning dog sweeps by animal control and the medical research teams, I was beyond paranoid, but I tried to find a balance with what was within my control. The roof wasn’t perfect either; Roxie had decided to climb ALLLL the way to the top and make it her lookout.

Then two things happened at once:

The roof of the shop was taken by another company, and the pandemic happened. I started fighting to bring both Roxie and Velma home; I was not going to tolerate them being out in the street 24/7. Roxie was smart though, and she snuck into the shops and napped on the couch, staying the night inside. Everyone told me that they were street-savvy and knew their way around, and I should not be so worried. It was not good enough for me, and finally I succeeded in bringing both of my dogs to my house. We anchored a metal hook into the ground for long tethers, and watched them carefully to see where they would go on their own. Our street has a few large households and there were constantly people outside looking after them, including the owners of the same neighboring shops from their original area. After one month, it was clear that they refused to be tethered and would stay on our quiet street, venturing out onto the main road only if someone was with them. We also have a large speed bump on the main street as well, so I was relatively confident that they were safe from cars. Roxie and Velma were, after all, street dogs, and they knew their way around the roads from being free in the pyramids area.

For a month, everything was perfect. I made them delicious food every day of chicken and rice and eggs, and at first I put potatoes and carrots until I saw that they picked them out and left them in a pile. I cooked their rice with chicken broth that I snuck from the regular food for extra flavor, and was happy that I got to give them yummy things to eat. Roxie buried her food in an old blanket she “borrowed” from who-knows-where, and then panicked when she saw me shake it out and chicken pieces went flying. We decorated our house for Ramadan, and Roxie was perplexed at the speaker. They “helped” hang the streamers and investigated new visitors. They napped in a sand pile at the neighbor’s houses, and stole flip-flops and pranced around like they were the winners. I found a pair of ram horns they had collected and brought home to me. They said hi to the new foal on our street and played with the children. I put their fancy collars from the USA on them, purple for Roxie and pink for Velma (I later had to take them off because some people were planning to steal the collars). It was joyful and I felt like I had finally succeeded in saving them, finally making my house feel like home. I was wrong.

On April 21, 2020, tragedy struck. At 3AM, I argued with Kokee and went downstairs to visit my dogs. Roxie snuggled me, and gave me sweet love nibbles which had a way of bruising afterwards. I laughed that her paws smelled like corn chips, and I searched her body for stray ticks. She had none, as usual - Roxie was very clean somehow. I stroked her short, stiff hair and kissed her long nose, and rubbed her belly, which was dark-colored because under her hair, she had black skin. Her pointed, too-big ears were my favorite to play with, and I scratched them as she rolled off the steps. I pulled her back up, and she flopped right off again. Around 3:30AM, I went back upstairs and went to sleep, comforted by her silly scrappy way of loving. Velma was nearby, but for once she was too interested in sleeping to bother to snuggle me, so I got all of Roxie’s sweetness.

At 8:30AM, I took our Airbnb guest to 6 October to shop. I felt emotional, but I thought it was due to not sleeping well. The car was parked in the back so I looked down the front street to see the dogs on the way out and saw Velma. I assumed Roxie was next to her and just blended into the sand, as she had dug out a nice little crevice to sleep inside. We went to the store and came back around 11. I parked the car and showed my guest the stolen ram horns. I didn’t see either dog (later my memory would trick me about this), but they normally slept behind the house in the shade during the middle of the day so I carried my groceries upstairs and didn’t worry. I knew they were not out on the main street because I would have seen them on my way back.

A few hours later, I went up onto the roof with Mimo. I looked over the side of the roof and again saw Velma. Roxie was no where to be seen but she was so independent that this was not unusual. I went downstairs to clean the kitchen and help with dinner, and Kokee called saying he had food to give the dogs for dinner. Great, I said, but he took a long time to come back. I was heading downstairs to feed the dogs anything I could pull together since Kokee was late, but then he stopped me on the way and said he had something to tell me. Roxie had been hit by a microbus and killed, and it had happened at 6/7AM that morning, not long before I had left to take my client to the store. The supermarket had seen it happen, but they didn’t bother to tell anyone until Kokee had returned. The Egyptian Animal Control had taken her body to somewhere undisclosed (we have yet to find out where they take animals), and the supermarket guy said Velma had sat with Roxie for awhile after she had died, and then came home on her own.

I screamed in anguish. My sweet, mafia-boss Roxie, had been killed and no one told me?! Everyone knew she was my dog. How could she have been killed by a microbus, when they are so slow? I even tried to run away from Kokee in a microbus once in the midst of a silly fight, and later laughed that I took the slowest vehicle in all of Egypt. Donkey carts move faster than a microbus. We have a speed bump. How could no one tell me what happened??? How could I have truly not noticed she wasn’t around for a full day? How was no one on my entire street aware?? We have two uncles, numerous cousins, many friends, and in our own house, eight people. Not a single person was told? There were cameras outside all the stores, but no one was able to produce footage of what happened. She was hit right outside our street, not even in the actual street. I demanded we find her body, and so we went around the normal areas that animals that die are placed for pickup in Nazlet El Semman and searched all the dumpsters to find nothing. Kokee called every contact he had to try to find out where the city takes animals that have been hit by cars, and no one could tell him. Although Velma had been able to say goodbye, I was beyond devastated that I would not be able to bury her, stroke her fur one last time, or apologize for not doing better to save her. I had tried my best, and yet I still failed; she was only 1.5 years old. I had dreamed of when I would have my own place and be able to bring her and Velma inside, to live happy, comfortable couch-napping lives. I thought for sure I had at least a few more years, and I had thought about how I would send them both to the USA to stay with my mom. Roxie’s foot had been healed for 9 months, and it was almost completely normal aside from the occasional toenail flareup.

The other question that was immediate was how Velma would survive without her big sister? Velma relied on Roxie for everything. Roxie took care of her, showed her how to be a street dog, and taught her the mafia life. Without Roxie, Velma turned into a puddle of mush, and they were bonded. Whenever I would be at the shop and I didn’t see one of them, I could ask the one I did see to find her sister. Once, Velma ate half her food, then went and found Roxie and brought her back to share with her. All I had to say was, “where’s Roxie?,” or “where’s Velma?” and the other would find their sister.

The first night without Roxie, we put Velma on my balcony. I had tried to put them both there before, but it had turned into a huge fight. Roxie was very vocal, and she refused to be told what to do. She wanted to either be RIGHT NEXT TO ME or completely free. People complained about her barking. However, with this tragedy, the fight was over - there was no way in hell I was going to leave Velma alone. I had to carry her up two flights of stairs, and I brought her blanket that she stole and her ram horns with her.

The next night, Velma decided to look for Roxie. She sat at the end of my street and watched for her sister, wagging her tail every few seconds in anticipation. Velma is a full-body dog, and every emotion radiates throughout her being. If she is looking for someone, you know it. She laid down and waited, then asked me to go with her outside to the main street by grabbing me with her paw and walking out. We went out to the scene of Roxie’s death, and Velma sat there, looking around, and then sighed and went back home. My heart shattered into even smaller pieces, and I cried more tears than I thought was possible.

The entire house mourned her, although some more than others. We called Zayn, one of our regular shop workers, and told him and he was very upset. Zayn is a very kind, religious man from Upper Egypt, but despite being religious, he loved both dogs and regularly played with them. Unlike many religious people, he had no qualms about petting dogs. Kokee’s mom cried, and his dad was also sad. Roxie was our mascot at the shop, and Mimo knew I loved her deeply. Of course, Kokee was equally as heartbroken as me, as she was just as much his dog as she was mine. He cared for her constantly, gave her food, changed her foot dressings alongside me, took her to the vet while I was traveling, and laughed at her antics. She was a strong part of our family.

Kokee dedicated two Ramadan food bags to Roxie, which is a Muslim way to offer extra help for her soul to go to heaven. All dogs go to heaven, but maybe the food bags earned her the place of mal3ma in heaven too. She was the true queen of Haram Street.

I keep thinking I will see her saunter up my street, coming home. Her ghost haunts me, even though just hours before she died, I gave her so much love and belly scratches. I wish I would have stayed longer and kissed her nose one more time, and scratched her wiry, short hair and booped her ears. I didn’t get to bury her, but at the same time, I know she was buried with other street dogs, so they have each other for comfort. I just wanted a little more time with her before she left me…

I’m grateful I know exactly what happened to Roxie, and that she didn’t just disappear without any record. I’m grateful for the love nibbles she gave me, the snuggles, the comfort, and the laughs. She was silly in the most baladi way possible, with the funniest humor. She definitely gave me some fleas, and she entertained me with chasing moths, sneaking into the shop, and she had a way of communicating that was so clever. She always made it clear what she needed. I’m grateful for all the times I saw her nubbin of a tail wag when I said “I love you Roxie,” and all the side-eye she gave me when I woke her up from a nap. She was the perfect companion, and was so patient and tolerant of everything. and I’m unbelievably grateful that I had the honor to know such a wonderful dog and to borrow her from heaven for awhile. One day, we will nap together on the couch again, and I’ll squish her face and look at her beautiful eyes and kiss her on the nose, and never let her go again.

Rest in peace, ya Roxie. I hope you found other friends from the pyramids over the Rainbow Bridge, and you are all laying in a beautiful pile of soft sand in the sunshine. You are missed every single day by your Earth family, and you were the best dog anyone could possibly hope for.

In Roxie’s honor, I hope to spay/neuter some dogs in the pyramids area. When the pandemic is under control, I will share details of the plan.

#baladidogs #baladidog #egypt #giza #pyramid #haramstreet #rescue #dogrescue #cairo #roxie #expatsinegypt

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drlucypreston · 5 years

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Garcy prompt: Christmas fluff where they’re just running around and chasing each other being childish. Pretty please.

Ask, and ye shall receive. ‘Tis the season, after all.

“Alright, boys, once more. When he calls it, Leo, you go to the left, and Sammy, you go right. It’s called a pincer movement. I’ll stay here and cover you both.”

The two small boys in front of him nod eagerly, the three of them hunkered behind a little snow wall. They’re each setting up their own little pile of snowballs in front of them, leaning out from behind the wall to scope out their targets and generally taking the entire thing in that comically serious way that children do.

It’s Christmas Day, and somewhere in between wrapping an ungodly number of presents, making dinner for every member of what is still, after all these years, affectionately known as the Bunker Family, and then ceremonially unwrapping all of said presents, somebody suggested a snowball fight.

(It was Rufus.)

The snow had been a pleasant surprise, a late dumping just a few days before Christmas. It’s their first winter in the new house, and Lucy - a lifetime of winters in California apparently giving her a childlike glee about the whole thing - had woken him up and dragged him outside in their dressing gowns to watch as the world turned white around them.

Not that he minded, in the slightest - watching her take it all in, her face upturned to the sky, snowflakes landing gently on her eyelashes. God, she’d been as beautiful as he’d ever seen.

Later, when she got too cold, he dragged the big armchair over to the window so they could curl up together and keep watching, and then, at some point, he felt her hands work under his t-shirt and they stopped watching altogether.

“Garcia, darling, no weaponising the children,” comes her voice, just then, from behind another snow wall a few feet to his right.

“Yes, dear,” he calls back in a sing-song voice, before turning back to his charges. “Don’t listen to her. You do exactly what I said. Leo? Sammy? Are you ready?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Leo is six, the spitting image of his mother, and he holds up a snowball in his gloved hand. “Can I throw one at Henry?”

“Koke, if you only throw one at your brother, you’re doing it wrong,” Flynn says, chuckling, and the boy laughs back. “And Sammy, get a few hits on your dad for me, will you?”

“Yeah, Uncle Flynn!”

“Everybody ready?” Speak of the devil.

“Yeah, Wyatt, we’re ready.”

“Three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

It’s mayhem, in all the right ways. The kids are laughing raucously, pelting each other with snowballs, Rufus howls when Jiya vaults over her wall and shoves snow down the collar of his jacket, and Flynn himself gets a few good shots in on almost everybody.

And then he gets hit in the face.

And when he clears the snow out of his eyes, his wife is the one looking back at him, deliriously proud of herself, threatening to collapse into laughter at any second.

He gives her a brief, comically betrayed look, and starts walking towards her, gathering a fresh handful of snow, at which point she yelps, turns, and runs away.

“Lucy…” he shouts after her, but she’s sprinting across the garden now, the only sound from her a laugh frozen on the air, and well, does he have a choice but to chase after her?

She’s quick - small and nimble and able to change direction in a second - and she has a head start, but his long legs give him a frankly unfair advantage, so he catches up to her easily enough. He pulls back a little though, because she’s still laughing, and it isn’t until she intentionally slows up that he catches her.

“Garcia!” she cries, as he catches her around the waist and spins her. “Put me down!”

He does, and she turns to face him, her cheeks flushed pink and her breathing just slightly ragged.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he says, all mock-hurt. “I probably could have been killed.”

“Hmm, not my fault you’re such a big target,” she says, softly, still smiling wide, pressing closer to him at every word.

God, she’s beautiful like this, and he’d put up with the cold forever if it meant she’d always look this way. He dips his head, and she comes up to meet him in a sweet, warm kiss.

After a few seconds, a snowball lands with a thud at their feet, and Jiya shouts,

“Come on, you two! We’re not done up here yet!”

They break apart, smiling and giggling like teenagers. Not a bad Christmas, not at all.

“I think we need to team up,” he says, holding out his hand. “Your aim is better than mine.”

She clasps his hand, looks up at him again, and grins.

“Let’s see if I can hit Wyatt in the face next.”

#garcy #garcy fic #garcy ff #timeless #anon asks #mine #Anonymous

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capitankoke · 7 years

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Pique isn't the first player on the NT to publicly talk about these issues, he's being picked because of the whole Real Madrid-Barcelona thing. I am pretty sure Xabi Alonso has also spoken about the Basque situation on occasion (although not so open about it as Pique) and his dad, who was also a player, openly talks about everything and is even an activist on the cause.

Alright. now that you mention it, I really want to talk about it, because despite being something really evident for a lot of people, it seems unknown for others.

Disclaimer: This is only my opinion. I will add proper and contrasted data, but it’s still just my opinion. Feel free to disagree but keep it respectful, please.

Is Pique booed by the Spain NT fans because he supports Catalonia’s Independence?

I don’t think so.

First of all, Pique has mentioned a lot of times how he doesn’t support Catalonia’s Independence (today he said it several times) but the supports right of Catalonia’s people to have their voice heard and to be able to vote on it. This happened again a few years ago when there was the other Referendum, and he has spoken a lot of times about it.

Is Pique the only Spain NT player voting on the referendum?

No, as far as I know, others also voted but it wasn’t that public.

Is Pique the only Spain NT player who has played with an Autonomic Team (Catalonia in this case)?

No. Sergi Roberto, Jordi Alba, Busquets, Bartra... have played with Catalonia. Aduriz, Muniain, etc with the Basque Country team... There’s a lot of examples of players who have played with their Autonomic Team and then with Spain.

Then, if Pique isn’t the only one supporting Catalonia’s voice yet not the Independence, why is he booed when he’s in the National Team and not others?

Ok, here I need to place this image first.

This is taken from a poll in all the country, here it shows which team does each region prefer. It’s not a surprise that in those areas in which there’s not a big team (Like Valencia, Sevilla, etc) the #1 choice is going to be Real Madrid. Shoutout to Iniesta for being able to balance the RM-Barça percentage in Albacete.

Here’s a list with this info and the usual choice that isn’t RM and Barça,

And the whole article here because it’s very interesting.

Long story short: Spain is very Real Madrid-centric. No wonder all the media only pay attention to these two teams and pretty much ignore the rest. But then again....

Why is Pique booed when he’s in the National Team and not others?

Well, Spain usually plays in provinces where there’s not a big team, like Murcia the last time, or Alicante this time. So you can expect a lot of RM followers being in the stands and they’re going to unleash their rage on someone who has done them bad in the past.

Pique is booed because he’s a declared antimadridista.

You say this because you’re an antimadridista too...

Fair enough, but then why did people start booing Pique after mocking Real Madrid a few seasons ago? (The Kevin Roldan gate) When his Catalonia feelings were the same long back in the day and nobody seemed to be bothered by that.

It’s mathematical how whenever he has had a go at Real Madrid, the boos increased more and more. He’s not been booed always in the National Team, but don’t worry, press will take time to remind people the things he has said and will try to mix things up so everybody believes he’s booed bc he supports Catalonia when it didn’t start like that.

Diario As, one of those RM-centric newspapers, had their chief writing an article about how Pique is booed bc he’s an antimadridista and not bc he’s an Anti-Spain guy. And this is coming from the center of RM press...

Also, I have another question: How many times has Pique been booed systematically in the Vicente Calderón?

Think about it.

None.

Other players aren’t outspoken about this so they don’t receive hate, but I’m sure for example Koke, who placed and kissed an Atleti flag in the middle of Santiago Bernabeu is as antimadridista as Pique or myself, but he doesn’t talk about it, and he’s not a symbol of antimadridism like Pique is.

The fact that Gerard loves social media, and he likes to poke fun at RM as much as he can, and he brags about being an antimadridista, and he actually remembers things like RM winning the UCL with that offside goal by Ramos, that’s unforgivable for a lot of people.

No doubt some people may boo him now for the whole Catalonia situation, but this started a long time ago, and it’s nothing about Catalonia.

Thanks for your attention.

#long post #long ass post #my rants #Anonymous

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footbaliimagines · 7 years

Text

proud (an antoine griezmann imagine)

summary: atletico madrid get knocked out of the copa del rey and antoine looks to his girlfriend for comfort

You hadn’t been able to make it to the game that evening. Instead of heading to Barcelona to watch the match live and cheer Atletico on from the stands, you’d been forced to rely on Twitter, thanks to your boss insisting on holding a meeting the next morning at 9am.

If it were any other match, you would have been disappointed. Instead, you’re kind of grateful. Watching Antoine’s face fall and a sad smile grace his features as the team applauded the away fans had been bad enough through your laptop screen, and you’re pretty sure seeing it in the flesh would have been enough to make you never want to watch a football match again.

“Hey, babe.” You speak softly.

You’re sat in front of your laptop with Skype up and running, with a highlights video of the game open on another tab, your legs crossed and an array of takeaway pamphlets scattered in front of you. “Hi.” His voice is quiet and he sounds utterly broken, and your heart splinters even further.

It had been a frustrating year. Antoine gives so much, works so hard, and to be faced with disappointment again had undoubtedly been hard on him. He’ll be overthinking, blaming himself, replaying every kick and pass and shot in his brain until his head spins.

You ask, trying to keep your voice cheerful, “How are you?” It’s a dumb question, nothing but small talk, and you hear him exhale.

You look at him through your laptop screen. He’s sat alone in his hotel room, slumped forward with shoulders slouched and one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other running constantly through his damp hair. His blue eyes are wide, blinking frequently and darting around the room, in an attempt to act blasé and put on a front, constantly twitching so that the tears that are begging to fall don’t slip out.

“Exhausted. I want to come home. I don’t think I can hack spending another night here.” He murmurs.

“Come back to me soon, hey?”

He speaks delicately, “As soon as I can.”

“I’m proud of you, Antoine. More than you will ever, ever know.”

“I know you are.”

“So, so proud.” You stress. “We all are.”

“You shouldn’t be.” He mutters, looking down, his voice low and bitter.

“Stop that right now.” You order, sounding more like a primary school teacher than a supportive girlfriend. “I am proud. Please don’t start this whole ‘I-let-you-down-why-are-you-even-proud-of-me-in-the-first-place’ malarkey again.”

He glances up and presses his lips together in an apologetic smile.

“You need to be proud of yourself, too.” You add.

“It’s difficult.”

“I know.”

Then he’s back to refusing to make eye contact, playing with his finger and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I feel like I’m giving so much and getting nothing back in return.”

“I know.”

Antoine sighs and looks up at you, as you feel your heart about to break. “Again and again.” He chokes out. “I’m sick of getting shot down right at the end. It’s like being able to see the finish line but slipping and falling flat on your face, over and over again. I fucking hate this.”

“So do I.” You reply tenderly.

You wish you could do more than rattle off cliche comforting phrases, but it’s as much as you can do, and you know that all he needs to do is vent to open ears.

“How’s Nacho?” He pipes up after a brief moment of silence.

Rapidly changing the subject was a tactic Antoine often employed to get his mind off things and attempt to lift his spirits, taken from Filipe who told him that talking to his daughters made a loss significantly less painful. You eagerly comply, and jump to your feet, scooping Nacho, your fat grey cat who’s now meowing in discontent and whose tail is twitching in annoyance, into your arms, heading back to the view of your laptop camera. “He’s fantastic, as usual. Think he might have fleas, though.”

“You’re sending me quite mixed signals there.”

“So is Nacho.” You whine dramatically, leaning back and letting Nacho relax on your chest. “One second he’s clawing at my face to stop me from giving him kisses and the next he won’t even let me go to the toilet in peace. ”

“Gone for two nights and I’ve already been replaced.” He chuckles.

“I think he misses his Dad.”

“We are not getting another cat-“

“I meant you, stupid.”

“I know you think it’s cute to pretend that Nacho’s our baby, but I still think it’s kind of strange.”

“He is my baby, though.”

“You are so weird.” He laughs, and it’s the first time he’s sounded genuinely positive during the entirety of your Skype call.

“Still want a second cat. Still think we’re his parents.”

“Still love you, even though you’re an absolute nutcase.”

“And I’m still endlessly proud of you, even though for some weird fucking reason you think I shouldn’t be.”

He sighs and opens his mouth to reply, but you shake your head and cut him off. “No, don’t start with that again, Antoine. I will always be proud of you, always. You could sky an easy shot at an open goal in the last minute of the World Cup final and I would still be proud of you.”

“Well, you’ve just gone and jinxed it now.”

“Stay away from empty goals, Griezmann, you hear me?”

Antoine laughs, a light and melodic sound that pulls on your heart strings and makes you grin as you pull your laptop closer. Nacho jumps off your lap with a thump. “Loud and clear.”

“Good.”

“Thank you for cheering me up, darling.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Nacho.” You smile, as Nacho flops onto his side and begins to kick the corner of the rug on your living room floor. You frown, “He’s doing that weird thing where he kicks the rug and rolls over again.”

“We have a psychopath of a cat. He’s absolutely mental.”

“Like owner, like cat. That’s the saying, isn’t it?”

“Probably.”

“I better go. Koke’s at the door and he’s just texted to say they’ve bought pizza, and if I don’t answer I’m pretty sure they’ll break down the door to make sure I’m not rotting away in my own sweat.”

“I’ll let you go, then.” You smile wistfully at him. “I love you, and I’m proud of you. I will be until the very last time you lace up your boots.”

And your voice breaks, a sudden lump appearing in your throat as you feel your eyes sting with tears.

Fuck.

(You’re meant to be the one comforting him, not the other way round.)

“Don’t get soppy on me, now.” He teases. “You know I’ll cry if you do.”

“I’m sorry, sorry.” You shake your head and rub the tears away from under your eyes. “But you know what they say, right? That corny shit about how experiencing the lows makes you appreciate the highs even more? And how you have to deal with the rain if you want it to, uh, not rain?”

Antoine laughs. “Yes, babe, I’ve also read the ‘top 100 cheesy football quotes’, like you clearly have done.” He’s teasing you and if it were any other day you would have fired back, all guns blazing, but his eyes are sparkling and there’s a smile tugging at his features again

It’s a nice change to have humour and adoration glistening in his eyes rather than salty tears.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you.”

——

A.N.: for the anon who requested something about antoine/atletico after the copa del ray match a few days ago. i wrote this quite quickly so i’m sorry if it’s not my best stuff (but i love antoine and will write virtually anything for him leeeet’s be honest) either way i hope you liked this!!!!

(also i was massively inspired by my absolute weirdo of a cat when writing about nacho haha)

as usual thank you so much for everything and check out my masterlist ond my ask box to let me now what you think, come and say hi or request something!!!

#my writing #football imagine #footballer imagine #football fanfiction #antoine griezmann #antoine griezmann imagine #antoine griezmann fanfiction #one shots #atletico madrid fanfiction

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alolanrain · 4 years

Note

I love your legendary council! Could you give us some headcanons?

Yes!! I’ve been meaning to write down the HC I have.

- Arceus, known as Head-Head Council Ace, is mostly the main vote. Even if all the other council members vote one way if he feels strongly enough about a law their voting on he can pass or deny it. The other Gods don’t put up much of a fight because Arceus can still see in the filter in his human form and they can’t.

- Mew, Co-Head-Head Council Mini, is more on the physical aspect. When their called for high emergencies she usually goes with the regions representatives.

- Mew also keeps most tabs on Ash since she’s mostly needed in legendary form.

- the other news are her helpers! Like the one protecting the Tree of Life and Blueberry, the newest Mew in the world and a shiny (obviously an OC)

- most mythical Pokémon and sub-Legendaries are helpers as well. Sub-Legendaries stay mostly in field work. Keeping tabs on their spots and taking on extra tasks when the main Legendaries have to change into their human form for work.

-mythical Pokémon, like Victini and Keldeo, help with paperwork. All very important league paperwork goes through the council as well so they help keep it neat and tidy. This is also why Pokémon like Victini don’t get seen often is because their the ones that mostly take care in filing work.

- there are obvious exceptions such as Keldeo, Darkrai, Volcanion, and others that do or prefer field work over paperwork and some who are trained to be in field work then paperwork.

- there are also other Sub-Legendaries and Mythicals that also don’t do either paperwork or field work. Their not even on the council note have a human form. Example: Ultra Beasts! They don’t live on earth so Arceus found it best suited not to give them a human form, especially since Ash and Alolan Co. return them back to their own world in just a day.

- this means Necrozma and Eternatus also don’t have human forms. Even though Eternatus has been on earth for a while it’s still to volatile to be let on the council nor have a human form.

- when a legendary goes into “slumber” it’s really just them going into their human form. A separate being from their Pokémon form. The bodies are kept in special cryo chambers that only the council members know. Switching is easy on the mind but the human body must be in their designated chamber before switching. This can be a problem sometimes when the legendary/sub-Legendaries/mythical is needed in ‘Mon form but their in their human form in a different building than their cryo chambers.

- this is solved by having multiple designated chambers in different places across the globe. Each stadium, up to league code so places not like Spikemuth, has a secret room that the Council members only know and can be the only ones who access it with a special code and a scan of their eye.

- Ash is the only one out of the Champions so far to meat the majority of the High Council and the only one to meet both Co-Head and Head-Head council Mini and Ace.

- Ash’s farther, Aaron (another OC), held the longest Champion title by 40 years. Which was 10 more the Mustards. He was also another one who Mew the majority of the High Council and even was sought after by both Ace and Mew for his opinion since he was level headed and looked through everything front and back to see loopholes or something hidden in the words.

- Ash had met a good chunk of them at his dad’s funeral, death by a rare lung cancer, while at the age of 5. He doesn’t remember most of them but does remember Ace and Mini since they showed up a few more times in his life to make sure he and his mom were doing okay.

- though Ace doesn’t like to admit it he does let Ash, and his friends at the time, get away with some minor illegal things. Such as interference with national secret police, Champion work before Ahs became Alola’s Champion, E4 work, Gym Leader work, and High Council work. Though this mostly benefits everyone on the field and the council it still puts Ash and his friends at risk and Ace would much rather have Ash live a normal trainer life as much as he can then taunt his own life in front of death.

- some council members are seen more in ther region then others. Head Council Honey and Gia, Ho Oh and Lugia, are very rarely seen out in public and mostly sticks to the shadows. While others such as Head Council Koke; Finnta; Leku; and Bula, the Tapu’s, are constantly seen around the island more so then their ‘Mon form.

#wolfy answers #ash ketchum #council!au

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