#Grace Lyons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notmuchtoconceal · 1 year ago

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Verily, verily I say unto you! Laura Palmer is the image of the Feminine Messiah, for she is what we consume at our daily meal, wrapped section-by-section, genre-by-genre, a full-course luncheon in a box served up by an early-adopter auteur slumming it up in TV Land, for he believed in the good of public works and the joys of episodic narrative!

Look back now to the Image of Tina in A Nightmare on Elm Street, not only clawing bloodied and bitten-of-nail on the inside of her bodybag translucent as the mists of a high school shower. See her not only dragged down the halls by an unseen malevolence leaving a slime-trail of blood as she goes -- See her also in the Dreamland which was her prison and tomb standing shrouded as the Holy Virgin in Plastic, Deflowered though she was by her Hunky Tighty Whitey wearing Latino Greaser Boyfriend who too was to be found alone, strangled of his own volition.

See the continuity in these images, not only for how one may influence another, but how in each is a reflection of the time and place from which they arose. See the dead girls on the news in placid suburban 80's homes. See them now always for what they always were -- offerings to the Moloch of the Mainland, Our Homeland Hungering for the Blood of the Pure. See how the boogeyman was always a necessity of the loving patriarchs which your grief-stricken mother, intoxicated in isolation, barred the windows of your home to keep your father out. See your father the lawman hiding the crimes to which he knew he was entitled for the law was his and the courts always shows for the public. The letter of the law could not reflect the will of the people, for the people hunger for blood and the annals of our court are not a butcher's trough, though we may permit each tree within our garden a gallows!

The blonde girl. The Radiant Madonna. Who is she? In her name we see the laurel crown, the hands which reach and touch. As the heart is what mediates the two, and she is the heart of the town, the daughter of a respected lawyer for the local last tycoon, she was the most fecund portal through which to inject corruption. She is the Feminine Messiah for She is the Paradoxical Image of God in The Flesh.

In Laura's embrace of Stoic Wisdom, her acceptance of struggle, decision to withstand hardship and rejection of witchcraft, we see the font of her status as a glamor goddess is a masculinized mind which compromises neither its feminine allure nor immersion. From a young age, she is bombarded not only by repeated sexual and emotional abuse from a loved one, but continuous assault by the irrational and yet inarguable presence of supernatural forces. As with the first scene of Ash's sister Cheryl's possession in The Evil Dead, the unseen forces of darkness lurking always out of sight seize her hand against her will and use her own body as an instrument to intrude upon the pages of a meditative space where she may be alone with her thoughts.

The treasury of Missing Pieces from Fire Walk With Me are a particular boon to this subject, as the additional scenes featuring Laura and her mother shed warm rays of luminance on a relationship foundational to not only the heart, but the core tension of the series.

In a brief scene where Sarah, Laura's mother, is coming inside carrying groceries, three developments occur in rapid succession, which key the viewer in to the intimacy of these women's dynamic. Laura is harried, for she has just found pages ripped from the Secret Diary she had hidden, tipping her off that her secrets can no longer be safely kept in her own home. She is smoking a cigarette, as she was only moments before (in the main body of the text) living out an impromptu early-90's alterative hip-hop video as she comes home from school (as one does), which we soon find out is despite her mother's protests. (The smoking, not living in a improvisational music video. No matter what timeline you're in, you can't take the 90's out of a 90's girl even if it's still the 80's.) Yet also despite her protests, her mother will hold her cigarette for her as Laura in turn takes the groceries. Laura needs to ask her mother to borrow the car (fortuitous, I'm only now realizing, as she had just gotten home) for she is still only a high school girl, but first -- she must withstand another bout of lecturing from her mother where she insists she will never be a smoker if she never starts smoking. We can see in this briefly that Sarah is instilling in Laura a purity ethic where a corrupted-identity is based on an initiation ("being a smoker", "starting smoking") -- the definitive feature of idol worship, which Sarah is sadly living out half-consciously, as her own husband is drugging her with milk. The milk which she seems inevitably to accept, making her go into the white dissociative horsey dreams. As a final comic touch, once Sarah agrees, Laura runs out the door, leaving her cigarette in her mother's hands, which she needs to then run back in and grab to eye-rolling maternal exasperation.

This connects to a later scene which elaborates upon a vital point of ambiguity in the main body of the film -- an ambiguity which reads as such for it is not immediately parsible, for it is irrational.

Laura ascends to the local Roadhouse to once more prostitute her underaged body for the coke money she so desperately needs to fuel her lifestyle of endless social charity and drug-fueled bisexual intrigues. Her childhood best friend, Donna Hayward, played by a different actress in the film than in the series (perhaps embodying Laura's projections of her own naivety onto the cuter, smaller, mousier new girl) follows her. She is not only curious about her best friend's distance, her twoness, but she is aware of how Laura sees her. Donna is dating one of the two Local Mikes, the Earthly Dumb Jock, who proudly boasts from his convertible in his letterman jacket with her drug-dealer leather bro by his side that HE. IS. THE. MAN. This Donna will, in the same breath, wonder aloud if her football player boyfriend could ever write her a poem, then scandalously whisper to Laura about ... the mere possibility ... of having sex. Holy shit. This bitch was having threesomes in public when she was twelve. Girl, you know not what little you know. Oh my god. You are not yet ready to steal this woman's second boyfriend and develop main character syndrome as you shout on her grave in the dead of night. Right now, you are gonna do some weird needy insecure shit and it's gonna be fun.

(My little brother is a hardcore Donna stan and I know not ever why.)

As we have said, Donna follows Laura to her nightside prostitution meetup, which prompts Laura to react with barely-disguised dismay equal parts shock contempt and expectance. This Donna ... is gonna get fucking good at playing Laura's games. This Donna ... is gonna slut it up. This Donna ain't no fuckin prude. This Donna has cute lil perky tits and she's gonna whip em out! You ever see that other Donna's tits? Nuh-uh, bitch. TV standards. No full-frontal female. See em on the big screen, motherfucker. Bathed in hot pink electro-grunge hate-fucking your ears! I am a Goddess! I am the Concubine! I am the Queen of Whores! Ow. Don't cry from that one shot you took. That was real spicy. I'm such a good girl this is hard for me. I'm not gonna let it show, though. Do I have to be at church in the morning? Am I out whoring on a schoolday? What happened to my lesbian sister who writes poetry? How can Laura be best girl and biggest slut, how is that possible, what am I missing?

Once more you may see as it is revealed -- as Donna approaches the table at which Laura is seated with her two bucks, one asks if she is included in "the deal" -- to which Laura objects, which Donna insists on including herself, sealing it with the shot she takes from her mark.

Donna is self-initiating into the cult of ritual prostitution by means of libation that she may enter into sympathetic resonance with Laura. Laura, though she may seem to dismay it, is protective of Donna's innocence, and doesn't wish to see her corrupted. Though Laura may appear beautiful and bright and alive, inside she is consumed by darkness and fears being close to anyone, fears that her influence on anyone might be corrosive, and yet -- she's missing Meals on Wheels deliveries and unable to give excuses, although -- nobody wonders why despite the fact there's nobody there. There's nobody there, but maybe the two of us can sneak off later and snuggle in my truck while we listen to non-diegetic music over the radio and reflect on the beauty and tragedy of the night.

Furthermore, the Missing Pieces make clear the crossing of an additional boundary -- namely that the girls literally cross northward into the territory of Canada to engage in their Pink Room Prostitution Cube. The abrupt cut in the feature film, on first impression -- may lead one to believe the Pink Room is an extension spatially, literally ... (a backroom) as well as metaphysically and thematically ... of the Roadhouse, rather than another place, called The Power and the Glory some many miles away.

It is in this scene where Donna loses herself to her latent passions, caressing herself as a boa in the sweater which Laura had discarded as she disrobed, she sees then her old coworker, Ronette Pulaski (named for the park by my house, by which I mean not the French Jesuit Missionary, but the street not named for him) emerge from the pink fog of time, the mirror image of what Donna might become: the two reflect upon their past experiences in the brothel where they worked, recruited through the perfume counter at Laura's dad's lifetime friend and business partner's department store high school grooming and sex trafficking ring.

It is important to understand that consensual sex work performed voluntarily by an adult woman (or man or anyone else for that matter) who understands the risks they're accepting, as they would accept with any choice of occupation, is quite different from a situation where a girl is coerced, both overtly and subtly, into acting against her own self-interest by playing into what seems inevitable pre-scripted scenes by invisibly abusive authorities with loving faces. Laura may enjoy sex, and sex is empowering, but this is occurring from a place of deep hurt. Laura has been repeatedly humiliated, repeatedly disempowered, repeatedly had her body turned into a source of shame, that her ability to connect and be vulnerable with other men has been compromised. Truthfully, Laura enjoys humiliating men through sex. Laura loves the power she has over them. Laura enjoys that she can coerce, bully and intimidate adult men who know they're raping her, because at least these fuckers aren't her own father. Remember when Bobby breaks down crying with Laura in his arms, realizing she's only using him for cocaine, and he just gives it to her anyway cause he wants her to be happy? He just knows that she's in pain and he can't really help and he needs her, and it's fine. She needs these drugs. Maybe she needs these drugs. You can't get her off drugs. What can you do for her? What can anyone do for her? Nobody appreciated how Bobby was a good man all along but his own dad and nobody can understand that because nobody has a time-traveling airforce superdad who can hypnotize you in a diner with the best possible version of yourself he glimpsed in his Project Bluebook heaven research because an actual Good Christian Man might as well be sci-fi!

Oh my god, bro.

It just now occurs to me that I am literally recapping a soap opera to explain the gospel. The cute Polish pup with the muscly veins and roid acne was right, you are obnoxiously American! Well, it's important to remember that if cute little German boys didn't love American melodrama, we wouldn't have the great works of RW Fassbinder.

I win and this is an effective hybridization of film criticism and spirituality which rightfully makes actual Christians look like aesthetically and intellectually stunted-dweebs formaldehyded into guppies by doctrine!

My page is so much fun, you will not see this shit elsewhere. Never forget how special you are to me for appreciating my words, brothers.

Laura, you see, understands the nature of discreet energetic resonance.

Laura knows that the essentialized state which underlies fetishism is not simply sympathetic psychological association, nor strictly a consequence of molecular chemistry. While Laura would agree that, yes (for Laura is keen-eyed and scientifically-minded, yet nevertheless -- is not blind to subtler forces at work in the world around her) that if your cute lil queer boy ass wanted to lick an alpha man's armpits cause it tastes real woody and salty almost like a saltwater toffee, but a bit more mulchy and mushroomy, like -- yeah, there'd deffo be a molecular component, for you would be inhaling his pheromones direct and they would be seeping into your tongue creating fast-acting pathways straight to your brain, and yeah -- your direct proximity to a hunky alpha man's muscular triceps and biceps and big meaty pecs would cement the paraphilic association, acting as both a trigger and deepening a visual impression around which your mind would naturally mold itself, allowing your body to follow -- all of that is true. She would probably agree in 2023 Twin Peaks reboot timeline where she's watching gay tumblr porn prolly cause she finds it lolzy and how gay are Mike and Bobby, actually? At least as gay as Donna is for me, right? Am I ready to speak publicly about how gay I suspect Donna is for me? She's basically a little sister. I can't believe she grows up to be the bad guy in Men in Black 2 before fully morphing into Pete Burns. Holy shit. Maybe I am a mean bitch. Why the fuck do I wanna come for Donna so bad? I just feel she brings it on herself?

All that aside, Laura understands the essentialized state transferred by a fetishistic object is primarily energetic. That is, as everything is vibrational, one might say that a shirt worn by a person, or their underwear, vibrates at the same frequency as that person, coming to -- in time -- carry subtle traces of that person, for the very fibers of the garment could be said to have been energetically infused via the pitch or the sound at which the individual's spirit resonates or sings, and things such as smell, while real -- are themselves closer to self-induced inductions where we recall distant days and so surrender ourselves -- making ourselves blank to receive the song we'll never hear.

Laura wears her mother's clothes. In another deleted scene, Sarah chastises Laura for taking one of her sweaters, then not only not returning it, but leaving it balled up on the floor of her closet. Later, Sarah wonders if Laura took her sweater again, for she'd spent all afternoon looking for it, only for Laura to then say rather pointedly "Mom. What are you wearing?" Prompting Sarah to glance down, and slip into a fount of weeping, to which Laura slowly and tenderly approaches.

We understand. Sarah has some demons in her. Sarah sees the visions of the white horse. That wasn't explained for a long time, and even now that it has been, it's still not something which is readily sensible to the casual majority of viewers. The explanation is given, but the intellect refuses it, for it confounds the intellect's neat and tidy categorical schematizations. The white horse is frustrating for it is both obscure and obvious. The readily material explanation is drugs, slang, things one step removed from immediate reality. You can have Abe Lincoln descend from the Sky in Blackface and Crush People's Brains Open before Reciting In Slant Rhyme the Answer All Along to Mock to Your Face Your Conscious, Logical, Route Memorization Sensibilities, but in truth, the image is less paradoxical than a depiction of a current and emerging unity.

Sarah's memory maybe isn't all there. Sarah's had her mind played with. Sarah's been on some shit. How much has Sarah been playing along all along? How much does it only look that way, for she doesn't see?

How much does she always allow?

Mom. What are you wearing?

Mom, are you wearing Sarah?

Laura takes off her face.

Laura is filled with Light.

Saraha takes off her face.

Sarah is filled with Darkness.

Sarah has Laura's smile.

Sarah has a swollen spirit finger.

What would it mean for her -- to know the man she loved, wasn't only cheating on her, not only abusing her daughter, but both in a single act which violated the very underpinnings of both their marriage and their family; to feel she had brought this on herself, by selecting this man, by... not being enough ... by breeding a whore ... why would this happen?

Did you sit there after the reveal of Laura's killer and see this woman standing upright, eyes-alert at her husband's funeral, vowing to be awake, vowing to be present, vowing to remember and to live?

Do you remember how she was then written out of the show forever? How nobody cared? Nobody wanted to look at her? Nobody wanted to think about what happened? Everybody wanted to immediately forget. Nobody wanted to admit that it was happening. Bobby cried out at Laura's funeral that they collectively killer her by ignoring what was obvious and nobody said anything. Bobby was right all along. Bobby was never the real asshole. Bobby was maybe one of the only people who really loved her almost selflessly despite being an infantile douchebag who got secondhand raped by his shrink, who -- oh yeah. Was a jealous older man pining away listlessly and leeringly for underage Laura's hot and heavy secret trauma, who wanted to fuck with Bobby for being a badboy hot jock with powerful latent telepathic abilities, the likes of which his false-gold Mercurial debt-scheme which miraculously works only on cyclopean state champ wresler kooks with amazing pussy control could never hope to dream, let alone conceptualize in false 3D.

Mike the Man grew up to be an insurance agent because of course he did.

Remember how Sarah only came back in at the last minute to deliver a message from the realm of chthonian spiritual trial, reduced and elevated to a cameo, being both chorus and iteral messenger of a hidden devil?

Fuckin sucks for her, am I right? Prolly made her a lil loopy while it was happening, then -- once everyone she thought was a friend or family ignores her cause now she's nothing but a walking reminder, invisibly reduced to a pariah in her own life, it's like she does nothing but sits and festers in a wound of her own making which will never heal.

Damn.

She sat in that house. Where it happened. For 25 years.

In front of the television.

While nobody talked about it.

You know, I've always just really liked Grace Zabriskie. I was sad when she was murdered in Child's Play 2. This is the only thing by David Lynch she's in where she's not already alarming and insidious. Wild at Heart. Disabled Vampyre Ritual Mexican Sex Assassin. Inland Empire. Your 6th grade history teacher harboring an omen of immanent death before using her witch powers to rearrange time. The Return. Literally Queen of Darkness. There she is, folks. The Mother of Evil.

Here in the pilot, she is simply a primal wail of despair which induces some to laughter simply for its intensity disturbs their peace of mind and they must laugh to hold their fragile rational framework together.

(You may attempt to prove me wrong if it would please you.)

Therefore we understand. Whatever is in Sarah is in Laura and whatever is in Laura is in Sarah. They're, now you sense, energetically tethered -- not only cut from the same cloth, for her flesh was stitched of her loom, but if their strings were plucked, they would produce pleasing sounds of a similar timber, and none could confirm this better than Leland Palmer, father, husband and brother, who has readily plucked them both!

You understand now fully -- why, for Laura, at the Pink Room called The Power and the Glory, to see Donna as the image of Ronette, a prostitute saved only at the last moment by providence, that she may open the door to beckon Laura's protective spirit -- why to see Donna wearing Laura's sweater would incense her as to leap to Donna's rescue and cease all further consumption of libation and ritual sex. Laura remembers who she is, and what she values. She doesn't want Donna to be like her. She doesn't want Donna to do what she inevitably does -- investigate her double, triple, quintuple life, adopt her manner and her attitudes, seduce naive doofy biker idiots and cute agoraphobic nerds who are so sheltered and fragile they will suicide at the first sign of betrayal.

She doesn't want her stable family life to fall apart when she discovers that she-bitch Audrey Horne is her sister, holy shit. It was so obvious. If Donna had any charisma she'd be Audrey, who is too feisty and independent which is why her own father never tried to rape her!

Why would her own father try to rape her? Her father has a healthy and trusting creative-personal-business relationship with his brother. Her father lacks the core loneliness to make him that kind of monster. Neither Donna nor Audrey understand men, which is why they're not Laura. Laura understanding men makes her Best Girl. The fact that her own father never tried to rape her made Audrey feel so weirdly inadequate -- much like Donna -- that she has to do mentally ill things like hide naked in Hunky FBI men's bedrooms before dishing out her daddy issues.

God. Thank God our old pal Coop's semi-autonomous AI demon-half shot a corruption load in her so she had a raise a hellspawn, marry her accountant, then go insane wishing she was still young and pretty!

Joshy Fuck Me. That's what I say instead of Jesus fuck now!

I was gonna keep this G-rated for language, but holy shit!

This shit's got as much rape and incest as an actual bible story, I'm just gonna assume you're all adults and have the psychological resilience to handle a dirty word or two, ooooh. What if I post a middle-finger pic? Like and reblog telling me if you would swoon or drenche yer knickers.

Rather tellingly, all Leland can see as he arrives up to pick up Laura for breakfast -- is this same fear of Laura herself. He sees Laura seated beside Donna on the couch, and remembers the day he was almost the John to his own underage prostitute daughter, arranged via their mutual connection, Theresa Banks, his earlier kill in Deer Meadow one year prior.

God, imagine how that must feel for the poor guy!

Ya fuck your own daughter's brains out in a drug-induced demonic trance, thinkin she'll have the common sense to be trauma bonded ta ya for life, but nooooooo. She wants to be out here like that totally scary and unfuckable little Audrey bitch threatening to cut off daddy's tiny peepee with her intimidating precocious little scientific intellect. Girls are scary! If they're not dumb, they're gonna notice how dumb we are first! We need to destroy their capacity to think and feel with our dicks! This is the right way of the land, for it is the right of the conqueror, the female being fecund and plenty as the soil and just as fit to trod upon.

I love America! It's real fun to pollute and rape!

I mean I absolutely believe Dolores seduced Humbert, let's not kid ourselves. Humbert Humbert may have had a silver tongue, but he was not leading man material, folks. Humbert Humbert wishes he was James Mason, but Kubrick's film of Lolita is a perverse Wonderland full-immersion in the psychopathic ideations of a pedophile verging on a pederast for Humbert is so fucking hipster and selective of his vintage, he will only rape little girls in these precise specific age ranges, holy shit.

You are the most autistic and socially inept sex monster! I really believe all the women you meet are throwing themselves at you and Peter Sellers is the neurotic spazz radio man of a thousand voices. Kubrick's film is an irony which requires a level of psychological detachment which verges on psychopathic. It's more-than-less a feature-length 4chan joke, and I understand nobody will understand or appreciate it as a sterling treatise on irony as insurmountable as I do and I accept and appreciate this. Dolly can absolutely be aware of the sexual power she can wield over an infantile adult male, and it can still be illegal, immoral and that man's fault when he succumbs to his emotional weakness and rapes a child.

Joshy fuck me. Uncomfortable people leap to stupid fucking conclusions cause they're basically animals! People who are uncomfortable talking about raping children prolly wanna rape children, there I said it. I have only ever wanted to rape powerful and virile athletic men of an appropriate age and ferment, for I am a conqueror, a king, an alpha.

Well, you see -- Laura couldn't protect Donna, same as nobody could save Laura. In the end, Laura was the only one who could save herself.

Laura gave her body, to protect her Soul. When she places the Jade ring around her finger and weds herself to the Spiritual Mike, the Shoe Salesman and One-Armed Man Whose severed Autonomous Limb became First a Dwarf, then an Axxonal Bubblegum Tree, she was Free of Bob's Influence, and so ... Bob no longer able to farm her, was compelled by obligation to his former master to reap and immediately harvest her.

To put this in an economical sense more readily graspable for earthly carnivores, when Laura put on the ring, she allowed herself to be claimed by Mike, thus becoming His Property. BOB -- the spirit inside Leland -- once being Mike's familiar, now a runaway, was compelled by his very nature to kill this girl who had given herself to his master. As BOB had sought her out, slow-cooked her, flavored her, BOB saw Laura as his and wanted to enjoy her for a long, long time. When Laura gave herself to Mike, BOB was himself forced to sell now, and trade a good long steady drip for an immediate short-term gorging, most of which he then needed to immediately discharge submissively at the feet of his master.

For Laura had wedded herself to a demon, her soul was placed in the Black Lodge. Yet, Laura did not wed herself to a demon for any desire for earthly power or authority, but for it was a way to minimize malign influence. Laura's spiritual wedding was simple, practical harm-reduction. If BOB had corrupted Laura and entered her body, BOB could use her connections to every artery of the town to spread this influence everywhere. Laura "chose to let herself be killed" because this was in line with her dominant value of protecting the innocence she lost.

Look at Deer Meadow, the setting of the prologue to the film. See how little life means there. See how its evident nature as a stained and distorted reflection of the eponymous town was clear even before the doppelganger motif took stage as primary thematic preoccupation. Remember how nobody knew Theresa. Nobody came forward to claim the body. She was a drifter, a statistic, no family. Totally forgotten.

See how it was the love of real people who tried, who stepped forward, who had a desire to connect, and to care, and serve, despite the fears, the follies, the secrets and entanglements of other people in a vanishing tribal structure and way of life we do not and may not ever understand.

See how anyway, they never spoke.

For a time, they did.

Then all was inevitably forgotten.

See how it was through the laws of cause and effect; the accumulation and deterioration of karma as a debt, that Laura self-actualizes by taking control of her life by taking control of her death, that she breaks the cycle of violence and is so uplifted into Grace and Reverence.

See how the angel which came as she sat splendid and curled in the velvets of the Red Room was of her own making, as the one which appeared to open the door of the car for Ronette was of her own making, the lights splendid and alive as if hung ourselves on our own tree!

Tell yourself, brothers, as our sisters our able. That we deserve to be forgiven. That others will forgive us when we forgive ourselves. Any crime which may be mended may be done as such when we approach one another with a firm grasp of truth in an open heart. We were not born to be corrupted. We are not lowly and bestial. We are not the pawns of the powers that be, nor fated to sell ourselves half-willingly into slavery. If it is in a market that we must we live, we may set our value with those of so little they would design to ever think to put one on a human life.

Of this now, and at this time, I have said enough.

On another day, I will return to the ways in which our leading man and hero, chipper and chivalrous knight of the FBI -- boyscout in black tie --- who is easily able to clear the low bar of taking a high school girl crush out for ice cream and a pep talk instead of feeling her up, he already being telepathic enough to know a girl'd be murdered here a year ago, instead of, like ... y'know... fondling her prone naked body -- I will return to the ways in which he complements and contrasts the enigmas of our heroine, he being, by means of his multiplicity, quite an enigma himself.

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womenwwe · 9 months ago

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The Dudley Boyz announce the third round picks of the WWE Draft

SmackDown: April 26th 2024 - Digitals

#wwe #kiana james #jackie redmond #cora jade #nikkita lyons #arianna grace #alicia taylor #lyra valkyria #brinley reece #kelani jordan #roxanne perez #lash legend #jakara jackson #wwe ava #smackdown #digitals

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gracie-bird · 2 years ago

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Princess Grace and Prince Rainier of Monaco arrive at the Gare de Lyon (Paris) on July 11, 1956, after their honeymoon.

#grace kelly #princess grace #gare de lyon #paris #1956 #july 11

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richdadpoor · 1 year ago

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Spiderwick Chronicles Show Axed by Disney in Cost-Cutting Plans

Image: Nickelodeon Movies Years ago, Disney secured the rights to adapt various kids book series for television, such as Percy Jackson and Eragon. Also included in that mix was The Spiderwick Chronicles, a series of mid-2000s kids books created by Holly Black (who would later go on to create the Curse Workers books) and Tony DiTerlizzi (The Spider and the Fly). That series was announced back in…

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thedynamicuniverse · 4 months ago

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Satellite: Eyes Without a Face [mini-movie]

New mini-movie from The Dynamic Universe. Sci-Fi + Soundtrack

What did we do? We created a short mini-movie thing called Satellite: Eyes Without A Face. Theoretically, there is an entire Satellite Series. This is the first release. This story begins at the ending. It is called the SPIDOR, Satellite Platform Intercept Defensive Orbital Ray. It is the life’s work of Doctor Lloyd and Nancy Chambers. Imagine a great watchful eye floating in the heavens,…

#Billy Idol #CGIart #CGIMovie #David Lyon #Daz Studio #drew spence #dynamics plus #Eyes Without a Face #Fallout Shelter - music group #Lauryn Grace #the dynamic universe

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pd-lyons · 2 years ago

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Morning Coffee Notes 26 6 23

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#beaches #coffee #grace #mother #oceans #pd lyons photography

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woso-dreamzzz · 8 months ago

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Injured (Jenni's Version): Future

Grace Clinton x Reader

Summary: You need to leave

"Mami! Mami! Mami!"

You smile slightly, continuing to pack your suitcase as your son lays back on your bed.

"Yes, my James?"

He grins at you. "Can I come?"

You shake your head. "You know you can't."

"But why?"

"Because Paris is a long way away from Lyon." You add another set of pointe shoes to your bag. "And I need you to do a very special job for me."

You sit down on the bed, patting the spot next to you.

James is more than happy to crawl towards you, leaning close to hear his special job.

"You're a very responsible boy, aren't you?"

He nods. "I helped Mummy pick up Ollie's poo yesterday on our walk!"

Ollie's your family dog. Grace had gotten him for you when the first two rounds of ivf didn't take and you'd been so down about it. You were right in the middle of your third round and losing hope when Grace had come home with a German Shepherd puppy.

You called Ollie your good luck charm because two weeks after you'd successfully potty trained him, you fell pregnant with your other golden boy, James.

"That's very responsible!" You tell him," Because I need a very responsible boy to help me out."

"I'm responsible! I'm responsible! What is it?"

"I need you to be in charge of the house while I'm gone," You tell him," That's why you can't come with. You've got to make sure Mummy doesn't order takeout every day and cleans up Olivia's toys when she's done playing."

Olivia's the other light of your life, your nearly one year old daughter.

You didn't particularly want to leave either of them but you'd been called up by the Paris Opera Ballet to be their guest Principal for one of the shows they were putting on and you loved dancing in their venue.

Originally, you were going to say no but Grace pushed you to accept. She was more than capable of looking after both of the kids at once.

"I'll make sure Mummy eats healthy and cleans up!" James tells you," Can I go tell her I'm in charge while you're gone?"

"I'm sure she would love that."

James goes bursting out of the room and you take the time to finish packing.

Ollie whines a little as you zip up the bag.

"I'm sorry, Ollie," You say, gently stroking his head," You know I'll back soon."

Ollie's the family dog, technically, but, secretly, you know he's yours. He had been incredibly protective over you when you were pregnant with Livy and he had been super excitable as a puppy when you were pregnant with James.

Fully grown now, he loved being in the same room as you. He adored the kids and Grace, of course, but you had always been his person.

Frankly, you were getting a little worried he was lonely in the house alone all day so you and Grace had been in talks about getting Ollie his own puppy.

It was only fair to Olivia as well.

Ollie grew up with James. It's only right to have a puppy for Olivia to grow up with too.

But, that was a conversation for when you got back and after your planned trip to Spain in the summer.

It would be nice, you think, to have a puppy for Ollie to be the best big brother too just like how James is the best big brother to Livy.

Ollie follows you down the stairs, his favourite tennis ball in his mouth as you start pulling your suitcase down.

Grace appears at the bottom, hurrying up to swap the bag with Livy and carry it the down for you.

"Careful, beautiful," She says as you swap," You don't want to strain anything before you go on stage." She winks at you and you roll your eyes.

"Did James tell you I've left him in charge?"

"He did," Grace replies with a grin," I think he's already planning on demanding Big Bed access."

"Don't let him," You remind her but your wife just shrugs.

"I don't know. He's making a convincing case. Says that it would be cold without you and he should be there to warm it up."

"If you get him in the habit of sleeping in our bed while I'm away, Grace Clinton, then you're in trouble and I'm choosing what breed the next puppy is."

"Oh, come on!" Grace is laughing though so you know she isn't taking your empty threats too seriously. "Cab's here though. You finished up just in time."

"Okay." You pull on your coat surprisingly well for someone balancing a baby in the other arm.

You litter kisses all over Livy's face as Grace calls James to the door.

"I'll miss you, Mami," He tells you and you crouch down to give him kisses too.

"I'll miss you too, James," You say," I love you, baby."

"Love you too."

He curls into your arms and your rock him side to side softly before pulling away.

"Remember, you're in charge, okay? So I want you to boss around Mummy and make her eat healthy, deal?"

He nods. "Deal."

"I'll see you in a week, amor," You tell Grace, pecking her lips a few times and laughing when she tries to chase your kiss each time.

"Love you, beautiful."

"Love you too."

#woso x reader #grace clinton x reader #grace clinton #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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hope-ur-ok · 9 months ago

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Surprise Song Master post ~ European Leg

5/9 Paris, FR: Paris + LOML

5/10 Paris, FR: Is It Over Now?/OOTW + My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

5/11 Paris, FR: Hey Stephen + Maroon

5/12 Paris, FR: The Alchemy / Treacherous + Begin Again / Paris

5/17 Stockholm, SE: I Think He Knows / Gorgeous + Peter

5/18 Stockholm, SE: Guilty As Sin? + Say Don't Go / Welcome to New York / Clean

5/19 Stockholm, SE: Message In A Bottle / How You Get The Girl / New Romantics + How Did It End?

5/24 Lisbon, PT: Come Back... Be Here / The Way I Loved You / The Other Side of the Door + Fresh Out the Slammer / High Infidelity

5/25 Lisbon, PT: The Tortured Poets Department / Now That We Don't Talk + You're On Your Own Kid / Long Live

5/29 Madrid, ES: Sparks Fly / I Can Fix Him (No Really Can) + I Look In People's Windows / Snow On the Beach

5/30 Madrid, ES: Our Song / Jump Then Fall + King of My Heart

6/2 Lyon, FR: The Prophecy / Long Story Short + Fifteen / You're On Your Own Kid

6/3 Lyon, FR: Glitch / Everything Has Changed + Chloe Or Sam Or Sophia Or Marcus

6/7 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: Would've Could've Should've / I Know Places + 'Tis the Damn Season / Daylight

6/8 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: The Bolter / Getaway Car + All of the Girls You Loved Before / Crazier

6/9 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: It's Nice To Have A Friend / Dorothea + Haunted / Exile

6/13 Liverpool, England UK: I Can See You / Mine + Cornelia Street / Maroon

6/14 Liverpool, England UK: This Is What You Came For / Gold Rush + The Great War / You're Losing Me

6/15 Liverpool, England UK: Carolina / No Body No Crime + The Manuscript / Red

6/18 Cardiff, Wales UK: I Forgot That You Existed / This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things + I Hate It Here / The Lakes

6/21 London, England UK: Hits Different / Death By A Thousand Cuts + The Black Dog / Come Back Be Here / Maroon

6/22 London, England UK: thanK you aIMee / Mean + Castles Crumbling w/ Hayley Williams

6/23 London, England UK: Us w/ Gracie Abrams + Out Of The Woods / Is It Over Now? / Clean

6/28 Dublin, IE: State of Grace / You're On Your Own Kid + Sweet Nothing / Hoax

6/29 Dublin, IE: The Albatross / Dancing With Our Hands Tied + This Love / Ours

6/30 Dublin, IE: Clara Bow / The Lucky One + You’re On Your Own Kid

7/4 Amsterdam, NL: Guilty as Sin? / Untouchable + The Archer / Question...?

7/5 Amsterdam, NL: imgonnagetyouback / Dress + You Are In Love / Cowboy Like Me

7/6 Amsterdam, NL: Sweeter than fiction / Holy Ground + Mary's Song / So High School / Everything Has Changed

7/9 Zürich, CH: Right Where You Left Me / All You Had To Do Was Stay + Last Kiss / Sad Beautiful Tragic

7/10 Zürich, CH: Closure / A Perfectly Good Heart + Robin / Never Grow Up

7/13 Milan, IT: The 1 / Wonderland + I Almost Do / The Moment I Knew

7/14 Milan, IT: Mr. Perfectly Fine / Red + Getaway Car / Out Of The Woods

7/17 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Superstar / Invisible String + "Slut!" / False God

7/18 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Speak Now / Hey Stephen + This Is Me Trying / Labyrinth

7/19 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Paper Rings / Stay Stay Stay + It's Time To Go / Better Man

7/23 Hamburg, DE: Teardrops On My Guitar / The Last Time + We Were Happy / Happiness

7/24 Hamburg, DE: The Last Great American Dynasty / Run + Nothing New / Dear Reader

7/27 Munich, DE: Fresh Out The Slammer / You Are In Love + Ivy / Call It What You Want

7/28 Munich, DE: I Don't Wanna Live Forever / Imgonnagetyouback + LOML / Don't You

8/1 Warsaw, PL: Mirrorball / Clara Bow + Suburban Legends / New Years Day

8/2 Warsaw, PL: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) / I Can See You + Red / Maroon

8/3 Warsaw, PL: Today Was A Fairytale / I Think He Knows + The Black Dog / Exile

8/15 London, England UK: Everything Has Changed / End Game / Thinking Out Loud w/Ed Sheeran + King Of My Heart / The Alchemy

8/16 London, England UK: London Boy + Dear John / Sad Beautiful Tragic

8/17 London, England UK: I Did Something Bad + My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys / Coney Island

8/19 London, England UK: Long Live / Change + The Archer / You're On Your Own Kid

8/20 London, England UK: Death By A Thousand Cut / Getaway Car w/Jack Antonoff + So Long, London

#taylor swift #the eras tour #live audio

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meazalykov · 9 months ago

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Good Game, Sal

Salma Paralluelo x Barca!Reader

summary: are they enemies, or lovers?

Salma Paralluelo and I, both rising stars of Barcelona's Femeni team, shared more than just a common jersey; we shared a rivalry that burned hotter than the Catalan sun on a July afternoon.

Salma, with her quick footwork and innate goal-scoring abilities, was a product of La Masia, Barcelona's renowned youth academy. Her journey to the top seemed paved with gold, crowned by her recent triumph in the World Cup with the Spanish national team. Me, on the other hand, hailed from a humbled path, I considered my talent raw and untamed, molded through sheer determination and grit.

Growing up in the United States, I’ve played through many unknown summer leagues, clubs mainly filled with boys, school teams, and futsal in the winter months before I put the pen on paper with Washington Spirit at the age of 15.

After four great years with building my talent, creating new friendships, and enjoying my life in the United States Capital, my contract was expiring.

Washington Spirit offered me a renewal, but Barcelona contacted my agent with a proposal that sent my jaw dropping to the floor. The Catalan Club was my dream club while growing up. I’ve admired Alexia Putellas, Ronaldinho, Messi, and Xavi for years. So I followed my heart and denied another four years in Washington DC, so I can accomplish my dream.

However, I had to put in hard work when I arrived in Barcelona. This challenge was needed, since the challenge to score on the pitch fuels my passion. However, I didn’t expect a rivalry to happen WITHIN the club rather than the opponents I’ve played against.

First, it was a constant competition for playing time. Overtime, I’ve thought that I harbored a deep-seated resentment towards Salma, envying her success, her effortless grace on the pitch.

Against Madrid CFF, my debut game in September, I scored a brace that drove the club to win 4-0. Afterwards, I’ve held a record for scoring at least once in a game I’ve had minutes in.

However, Salma seemed to have the upper hand when it came to having a start. I had to swallow my pride every time I had to be her 67th minute substitute. She always hugged me when she would come off, but my body would tense up everytime. Nobody noticed the small resentment for her, except for Salma herself. She started to piece small things together.

“You did great today Niña, I'm impressed by your dribbling and speed in training.” Alexia, or my captain Ale, patted me on the back as we headed into the locker rooms after training. A few days ago, we won the Champions League semi-final against Chelsea. Thanks to a goal from Aitana, Fridolina, and I.

Alexia was a huge advocate for me which made my heart melt. I’ve admired her as a fan but now I am her teammate, so I express my gratitude to her whenever its possible.

“Thank you. I learn from the best people surrounding me.” I smirked and Alexia breathed out a chuckle. Something the girls noticed when I came to the club is how much I’ll compliment or support people on their skills. Aitana said that I've been a light in the dressing room when it comes to boosting morale. This is a reason why people don’t notice a small resentment I held for a-certain-someone on the team.

“Well, Don’t get your hopes up when I say this— but Jona might consider you as a starter for the final— Don’t take that as a guarantee, but your speed will be needed against Lyon's defense” Alexia’s Spanish accent poked through as she held onto my shoulder. The Spanish are very affectionate.

“I won’t get my hopes up— I do take that as a compliment though.” I said.

“Good. We’ve been looking between you and Salma as the third forward in the finale. Since Frido and Caro will have the left and right wing.” Alexia spoke. I felt my stomach turn at her name. Aware that I will have to work harder in training to start in the final, I know Salma will do the same thing.

A week later, my “animosity” towards Salma only intensified when I discovered that Salma will start in the final over me as a striker. Back at my apartment, I’ve cried myself to sleep. I’ve worked hard in training. My tears represented the fear that nobody is seeing the skills and potential I have.

“Hey Y/n” As I walked out the locker room after training one morning, I turned around and saw Salma approaching me. My eyes widened and I turned to walk away in a hurry.

“Hi.” I said quickly as Salma continued to walk beside me. What did she want?

“We should go watch The Challengers movie with Esmee on our day off Sunday. I know you both used to play tennis and such, it looks like a great movie.” Salma hesitantly spoke. My eyebrows knitted together at what she said. I did play tennis for a few years in middle school back in America, but as a hobby not a sport. Esmee told me that she could’ve gone professional at tennis in the Netherlands but chose football instead. The Dutch girl is the only person that knew about my old tennis hobby, so she had to have told Salma about it.

“Um–” I say as we both pushed the glass doors outside into the parking lot. As much as I wanted to say no, express to Salma how much I've resented her, and drive home.. I couldn’t. I felt my heart ache as I looked at the girl who had a shy smile. Wait– huh? Why am I doing that?

“I–I can go with you guys–Just have Esmee text me the details when you guys decide the time.” I said before walking away to my black SUV, my emotions not handling what Salma might’ve said or reacted to my acceptance.

The last few days before Sunday came along. I’ve talked to my best friend, Isla, about everything. She doesn’t live in Spain, since she plays football for Gotham FC, but she had a clear understanding about the community.

After my rant which lasted an hour, Isla said something which made my heart stop for a quick second.

“Are you sure that you hate Salma?” Isla asked over the facetime call.

“Well-No! I don’t hate anybody, I just hate how big of an advantage she has over me.”

“Oh– because it sounds like you’re in love with her–”

“Excuse me?”

“Well the way you’ve talked about Salma reminds me of how I started off with Esther here at Gotham. However it was the other way around. She was in love with me but refused to accept it– so she found reasons to try and hate me instead before she was forced to confront the truth.”

That part of the conversation replayed in my mind for the last few days. Throughout training, throughout the game against Granada that won us the league, it replayed non-stop. It didn’t distract me but I couldn’t look at Salma without questioning if I am in love with her. A subtle shift began to take place within my heart, even if I didn’t want it to happen.

Salma started noticing the small things too. After the Granada game which granted us Liga F champions, she noticed when I wrapped my arm around her and Esmee as we jumped around in the red-colored locker rooms. I’ve noticed that as I started to slowly accept my possible feelings for her, my “resentment” faded away with it.

“Good game, Sal.” I whispered in her ear as everyone posed for a group picture in our “Liga F Champions” shirts. She looked at me with widened eyes before smiling softly.

I found herself drawn to the challenge Salma posed as the Champions League final was coming up. Salma always craved the intensity of their encounters, the adrenaline rush of chasing victory side by side with her rival, just like I did.

By Sunday, the day where Salma Esmee and I will go to the movie theaters, I've accepted it—I finally realized the truth that had been staring me in the face all along. Due to past heartbreak, I didn’t want to fall in love again but here I am in Spain. As I stood in the mirror, looking at the nice casual outfit I've put on (imagine what outfit you want, reader <3) I knew with absolute certainty that what I’ve felt went beyond rivalry with Salma, beyond competition.

It was love.

In that moment of clarity, my resentment melted away. I knew that I couldn't keep denying her feelings any longer, but a fear started to grow inside of my heart. What if it's too late?

Salma did notice my resentment towards her. There were times where I’ve blown her off because of that. I couldn’t blame her if she started to hate me for what I've done to her.

Four hours later, The Challengers movie ended. I’ve sat in-between Esmee (on my left) and Salma (on my right) in the movie theater. The movie was good but I had the urge to look at Salma at times. Once, I looked down at her hand that wasn’t too far from mine. As much as I wanted to reach to hold her soft hands, I couldn’t do it. What if she pulled away? What if things would’ve been awkward between us? I didn’t risk it.

When we hugged Esmee as she left the theater, it was Salma and I in the parking lot. I could’ve said bye and left too, but Salma wanted to say something to me. Esmee and her gave each other an unknowing glance, so I believe Esmee might know what Salma is feeling.

“Y/n, Why do you hate me?” Salma frowned. My heart broke as I bit my lip in nervousness.

“I don’t.” I said I looked at her with a sad smile.

“Yes you do. Every time I wanted to talk to you at practice, you always ran away to talk to someone else. I’ve noticed that you’re the only person that never congratulated me separately after a goal. I’ve seen the way you’ve brightened up people’s days with your compliments, love, and hugs. Why can I not have that Y/n? Did I do something to you for you to hate me? Just tell me because I don’t want to start off next season knowing that you might hate me for something I might’ve done.” Salma took my left hand and held it with both of her soft, moisturized hands as she looked me in the eyes.

A tear fell out of my left eye as I felt guilty. I’ve fucked up. I’ve hurt Salma and she doesn’t know why— I need to tell her how I feel.

“Salma, I don’t hate you at all. I am so sorry for what I've done to you. All you did—really—was be great on the pitch. When I came to Spain, I noticed how loved you were by everyone. You had the minutes, skills, awards, and recognition that I could dream of having. However— I’ve admired you more than everyone else at the same time. I know that's hard to accept due to what I've done to you, but I felt like you were too good for me. I look at you more than everyone else. I wanted to hug you and congratulate your success with you but the vulnerability scared me. I’ve been hurt before so in order to protect my feelings, I’ve covered it up with resentment— Salma, I am in love with you.” By the time I told her that I love her, tears poured down my cheeks and Salma held me in a hug, tightly, as she cried too.

“Y/n, I am in love with you too. That's why it hurt me when I believed that you might’ve hated me.” Salma said through her tears.

“I am so sorry–seriously. I don't hate you. I love you. I will never hurt you like that again, I swear.” I said.

After that night, we started over and became lovers. Our undeniable bond blossomed between us. The team adored our relationship and were happy for us. I did keep my promise, I never hurt her again. I’ve found love in giving my love to her without the fear of getting hurt. After the debut game in the 24/25 season, we walked off the pitch hand in hand, my heart fluttered as I know this is the beginning of our longtime relationship.

#barcelona femeni #salma paralluelo #woso community #fc barcelona #woso fanfics #woso x reader #la roja #aitana bonmati

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futbol16 · 1 year ago

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Never Say Die¹ • Steph Catley

Resquests: part 2 to the steph fic? Please a part 2?

Part 1/2 of part 2 for I Miss You

Part 2/2

Word count: 4,6k ( i had to cut it into two parts because tumblr wouldn't let me post it but im posting both rn)

The match of the knockout stage was an important one, just like the ones before and the ones to come. It was a do or die, you either win or you can wave goodbye to your world cup dreams.

However, you were confident in the team and with Australia backing up the Matilda’s you gave the fans a performance to celebrate.

The crowd was loud as Caitlin scored the first goal of the match in her home city, the amazing through ball from Mary that cut through six Danish defenders being endlessly praised. To all of your pleasures Sam had finally made her come back and joined in the 80th minute. And to top it all off the team ended the game with another goal this time coming from Hayley and an assist from you.

You gripped Steph’s hand tightly as the team celebrated in the locker room after the game but you still made sure to be subtle about it, aware of the cameras and phones recording. It was one thing that your sister and friends knew about the two of you, but you didn’t want the world to know just yet.

Steph hid the beaming smile on her face in her shoulder as she glanced at you and you pretended not to notice as you made brief eye contact with the camera lens of Charli’s phone.

The joyous screams and shouts of the team told you one thing, this world cup was going to be Australia’s.

Screams filled your ears as you lined up in the tunnel behind your girlfriend and in front of Caitlin. The small hand in yours is enough to ground you and you made sure to keep your focus ahead and not let yourself look over to the French. You knew if you did the calm in your head would turn into chaos seeing your former Lyon teammates again. Even Wendie’s big head of hair at the front of France’s line up was just a blur to you and to keep yourself busy while you waited for the referee's sign, you turned to the small girl next to you.

Upon doing so you notice her shivering a little, her other hand pulled tightly to her chest in an unsuccessful attempt to keep herself warm. Your mascot barely looked the age of 7 and in spite of her lips slowly turning purple, she was visibly buzzing with excitement.

Taking one last glance towards the referee you kneel in front of the small girl who turns to you in surprise but you give her a big smile and she reciprocates it with a toothy grin.

“Are you cold, love?” your voice is warm, and as it reaches Steph’s ears in front of you she thinks that alone would be enough to warm up the little girl.

“Mhmm a little” she mumbles, suddenly becoming shy but you continue smiling at her comfortingly. She clasps her hands together behind her back as you let go of them for a moment and she stares at you with big eyes as you pull off your gloves.

Caitlin grins down at the two of you, her own hand swinging her mascot's hand back and forth lightly. The forward’s eyes lift as her friend turns slightly and Caitlin doesn’t miss the way Steph’s eyes soften at the sight of you conversing with the little girl.

“My name is Grace” she tells you, this time a bit more confident.

“You have a beautiful name Grace” her smile only seems to widen and she fiddles with her fingers behind her back as she stares at you with big eyes.

“Could you give me your hand pumpkin’?” Grace untangles her hands from behind her back and you put your gloves on each hand. Just as you finish, the referee signals that it’s time to walk out and you stand back up to grab Grace’s hand again, exchanging another grin with her.

When the national anthems come to an end and the mascots make their ways off the field, the girls beside you aren’t surprised to see your team coat hanging off the little girl’s shoulders instead of yours. Your focus is elsewhere as you clap hands with the French team, greeting past teammates with a smile as they move on and you hug Wendie and Selma before you take your place up front with Emily and Mary.

The crowd is loud, the sold out stadium is standing tall for the Matildas and you take a moment to look around and breathe in deeply before you zero out the noise of the audience and compose yourself as the whistle is blown.

The game is immediately off to an intense start and Tony can tell within the first 20 minutes that this would be a long game. You only hope you would be able to progress farther than you have the last two times you played in a world cup quarter final with the Matildas.

Alanna and Katrina are playing their hearts out in the back, clearing balls after balls and you wonder just how surprised the French must feel.

Going into the game you were well aware of the fact that France are ranked the better team, you knew it, the girls knew it, Tony and the fans knew it and the French were more than proud of their title. However, the Matildas show just how much numbers and lists are worth by keeping almost equal possession of the ball. Surely, judging by Hervé Renard’s reaction he expected his team to score early on.

That wasn’t going to happen any time soon though.

Australia is playing the game of their lives with Caitlin making run after run and Kyra’s master dribbling, not to mention Mackenzie’s saves.

The team head off the field with their heads held high and the score stuck at a 0-0. The cheering and shouts in the stadium are loud as ever and it only boosts the team’s confidence. You wondered if the atmosphere was similar in the other stadiums they were broadcasting the match in.

“Come on girls! We’re doing great and I’m proud of all of you” Tony doesn’t waste time as he starts his half time speech and you eagerly listen to what he’s saying, twisting your bottle’s cap in thought.

“But we need to be quicker. Our defense is good but so is theirs and we saw how quick they were with their counter attacks.” the coach turns to the board in front of him as he points out different plays he thinks Caitlin and yourself could make, also handing out instructions to the midfielders and clapping the rest on the back. Tony ends his speech and your focus is shifted to your favorite defender as she stands.

“When we go out there again, I want you to believe you’re winners. I want you to hear the crowd, to see the massive amount of fans out here. I want you to connect with each other and I want you to play like this is the last game you would ever play. And I want you to enjoy it, enjoy it and show them why we’re here!” Steph’s captain's speech makes goosebumps rise over everyones skin and a bigger fire is ignited in the girls’ eyes, a deeper desire to win.

You nod to your girlfriend as your eyes connect in the team huddle and Steph nods back at you as her lips curl a little.

With a final ‘Up the Tillies!’ and claps to the back, Australia steps foot on the pitch for the second half.

As much as you try to bring Tony’s speech to life,you fall short to Caitlin. Half of the opposing team knows you from your four years spent in Lyon, they know you and they know the way you play. If that wasn’t enough, the other half of them were your rivals while playing in the French division and so the PSG players are aware of your skills and tricks too. It makes it practically impossible for you to even get close to the goal because you’ve got at least three defenders on your back at all times. Which in return makes it difficult for Mary and Emily beside you, and Caitlin who’s probably ran half a marathon by now.

“Fuck off Élisa!” tension is rising between you and the defender who only smirks at you in return. De Almeida had just made a goal line clearance from Mary’s shot and less than a minute after play resumed, she was tackling you to the ground.

It angered you so much. You wanted to play well and to help your teammates but you simply couldn’t. Your heart is beating out of your chest and you huff out another frustrated breath.

“Hey, come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself” Caitlin’s arm finds its way around your shoulders as Karchaoui is treated by the medics and you throw your head back at her words.

“Cait, I want to play and I can’t do anything with them on my ass! Élisa has a boot shoved up there at all times and I basically have no influence on the game.” you explain to her in a rush. It was currently nearing the end of added injury time and the score was still an underwhelming nothing.

You couldn’t keep track of the amount of saves your sister has made and the number of shots Hayley and Sam had on goal, you didn’t need to though because the French keeper was there to save them every time and so it didn’t matter much.

“We’re playing as a team, bug. Your struggle is my struggle, my struggle is your struggle. You just wait Y/N/N, we’ll show them what ‘Never say die’ means.” Caitlin with her wise words again. The older girl rubs your arm and shoots you an encouraging smile as you join your teammates in a drink break before extra time would start. She was right though, there was no blaming one person for the scoreless game.

A hand settles on your lower back as you listen to Tony and the assistant coach, slowly sipping on your drink. You turn your head just a little to see and big brown eyes shine in the lights of the stadium, a look in them reserved just for you.

“Look at them…” Steph trails off as she nods towards the stands and you follow her instructions, lifting your head.

A sea of gold and green flooded the stands, excited yells echoing in the sold out stadium, smiles on faces and a glint in the young girls’ and boys’ eyes. Signs are held high and you notice just how many of them have your name on them, Y/n Arnold. The Matildas fans are decked out in yours and your teammates jersey and you swear your heart calms its rapid beating. They believed in you, they were here for you and they have your backs and they had faith in you, in every single one of you.

“It’s so beautiful” you whisper to the brunette, somehow still being heard over the noise of the fans. Steph’s eyes remain on you however, a small smile playing on her lips as she squeezes your waist.

“So beautiful” she concludes as well and you turn to face her, nodding to yourself.

“We are winning it for them, yeah” you’re rewarded with a proud smile and a determined nod from your captain. Eventually you retake your position on the field but you exchange a few words of encouragement with Mackenzie before you do so. And then you’re back in the game.

Fouls and corners are handed out one by one but none result in goals for either team, even Alanna’s own goal had thankfully been disallowed because of Renard’s foul on Caitlin inside the box. The look on the blonde’s face was priceless and if you weren’t fighting for your life in this match you would’ve laughed at her.

Courtnee’s fresh legs instantly make an impact as she is subbed in for Hayley but it goes just wide and before you know it the second half of extra time has started.

“Nugget, come on” Mackenzie has an arm reaching for you as you slowly walk towards the side lines, absolutely exhausted but you wouldn’t back down until your team would win.

You lean into her side as she wraps and arm around you and your sister momentarily rests her head on yours. The goalkeeper's presence brings you a sense of homely comfort and she smiles down at you while leading you towards one of the physios. You join Caitlin on the grass and the two of you get a quick massage to your hamstrings just to relieve some tension and for the pair of you to be able to continue on for the possibility of a penalty shootout.

The French are attacking again but Mackenzie manages to tip the ball over the crossbar with a magnificent save and the crowd roars. Then not long after Steph takes a corner that Caitlin connects with but it’s deflected by the other team’s defense.

This looks and feels like a game that is destined for penalties.

Your eyebrows almost raise to your hairline as you see the French goalkeeper be subbed off and Durand replacing her. You look towards the rest in surprise and your eyes connect with Mary’s who’s sporting a similar expression to yours.

When a second later another substitution is announced you whip your head around to see the number 5 glowing in red. A near victorious smirk graces your lips as you watch De Almeida walk off angrily and Caitlin cannot help but laugh at your antics. Élisa being taken off makes your job a lot easier, if not for anything else at least she wouldn’t be there to annoy you and try to rile you up for the last few minutes of the match.

Your smirk is washed off your face when the whistle is blown and the referee instructs the two teams to line up for the penalty shootout.

A shallow breath leaves your mouth knowing just how much pressure would be on each of your teammates who would have to step up and take the penalty. You trusted Mackenzie enough to know she’d do her best but you were still nervous for the next shot.

You stand between Alanna and Mini, anxiously shifting from foot to foot as Selma Bacha stands behind the ball. She pulls her leg back, fires and- a shout leaves you as you clap for your sister, Mackenzie has dived after the ball and made an immaculate save. Caitlin next and you squeeze Alanna’s waist.

“She’s got it” you breathe out watching as the forward doesn’t even look in the keeper’s eye.

“OF COURSE SHE DOES!” the blonde screams next to you when Caitlin celebrates and you feel yourself gain even more confidence in the team as the crowd erupts in cheers. 1-0.

Diani steps up, she takes it and Mackenzie barely has time to react. Your heart breaks a little for your sister who gets up from her knees with a deep breath. 1-1.

Steph, she’s been absolute class with penalties this whole world cup and all of you are certain she will fool Durand, easy peasy. She takes it, it goes to the right, almost an exact copy of Selma’s shot and the French saves it. Steph steps back with slight disappointment and your heart squeezes painfully at her misfortune. 1-1.

Wendie Renard slots it past Mackenzie easily and you clench your jaw in frustration but manage to give your sister an encouraging nod. She’s got this. You’ve all got this. 1-2.

Your heart speeds up as your captain places the ball down, but just like with any other teammate, you all believe in her endlessly. And she doesn’t disappoint, how could the Sam Kerr ever disappoint? It goes past Durand’s outstretched hands and the net ripples. Sam celebrates, finally having a good touch on the ball after the past 126 minutes. 2-2.

Le Sommer, your former teammate reenacts Wendie’s goal but inverted it and the brunette in goal stays on her knees for a second to collect herself. The girls next to you are just as anxious, the whole line of Matildas is practically swaying left and right. 2-3.

“Come on Mare!” you shout after the girl as she walks by and you watch proudly as she gets her payback on Durand, shooting left as the French dives right. The fans are loud and you don’t blame them, knowing at this rate you’ll lose your voice before you get to finish the penalties. 3-3.

Perisset steps up, shoots- oh it hits the goalpost! You can’t contain the squeak that comes out of your mouth but you try to downplay your celebrations. It seemed like the goalpost was on Australia’s side tonight. 3-3.

And you take back that last statement immediately as Mackenzie’s shot hits the other goalpost.

“Fucking hell” Alanna curses next to you and you can only agree with her when you see your sister deflate like an overused ball. 3-3.

Geyoro’s ball is almost saved and your mouth is hung open ready to cheer for Mackenzie but it goes just past her fingertips. The crowd boos as the French celebrate. 3-4.

Katrina detaches herself from you and she takes her place behind the ball. It’s a rocket of a shot and the french keeper can’t stop it from going in. Australia screams along to your team’s celebrations and you grin as Mini mimics a rocking motion as she celebrates. That goal was dedicated to Harper. 4-4.

Just one more to go.

Karchaoui and it bounces off the crossbar and into the goal, Mackenzie’s fingertips just grazing the ball. The French team is going crazy next to you and you have to take a second to compose yourself and cling onto that strand of hope. 4-5.

If Tameka misses the next one, Australia’s world cup dreams are over. They would be over and you wouldn’t even have silverware to give to the country. You shake your head to get rid of those thoughts, reminding yourself that you were professional athletes and were meant to be able to deal with these situations.

And deal with it is what Tameka does, sliding in that ball in the bottom left corner. The stadium goes wild and so does your team, all clapping her on the back and shouting praises at her.

She had just saved your asses and with what an amazing goal she saved it with. 5-5.

This had been the seventh penalty. At this point there’s no ‘just one more to go’ in your mind, with how it has been so far these penalties were going to be never-ending.

Lakrar doesn’t waste a second after the whistle is blown and Mackenzie goes the wrong way as the ball goes down the middle. The players in blue are celebrating like they know they’ve just won it all and you swear you can feel De Almeida’s devilish smirk directed towards you, even though you’re faced away. 5-6.

Your sister is disappointed in herself, that much is clear but she stops you just as you move away from your teammates.

“Take a deep breath Y/n, you know you can do it, we all know you can. I believe in you sis” she tells you sincerely as you look up at her and you bite the inside of your cheek at her words. Your time to give a reaction is cut short as the referee urges you to take your place behind the ball.

The fans are up on their feet, hands gripping the cold metal railing in distress and you feel all the nerves settle in even more. If you make it, you’re still in the game. If you don’t…you don’t even want to think about it. And to be the cause of your country’s loss, you’d never forgive yourself for that.

You get a few more seconds to get your shit together as the referee assesses Durand who has stepped off her line and you take in a deep breath, just like Macca told you to.

A wave of adrenaline washes over you and as the referee blows her whistle again you pull back and strike the ball with all your power. You don’t move an inch from your position at the penalty spot and your eyes follow the movement of the ball, the fans leaning forward in their seats. It goes straight towards the keeper and you feel your knees buckle underneath you, you’re ready to give up but then it curls harshly, the ball not even spinning as it hits the top right corner.

It’s silent for a second, at least for you as blood rushes to your ears but then you’re back and you’re screaming and you are jumping into your sister’s arms and the fans are jumping up and down with you.

6-6.

You saved your country from a loss. And a smile resides on your face as Kenza Dali takes her own shot, if she misses- well you know you’re going through, you’re confident in the girls.

Mackenzie dives and she pushes the ball wide, screaming towards the stands as she celebrates, the rest of you copying her. But your celebrations are short lived as the referee blows her whistle, instructing Kenza to redo the penalty.

“What the fuck for?!” you yell in fury, upset that she might’ve just ruined this moment for your sister. When she announces that Mackenzie has stepped off her line your shoulders drop. As opposed to you, your sister stays calm and collected, she’s in complete control of the situation and you straighten up at that. She believed in you and you believed in her.

“Just wait for it” Alanna turns to you, the defender is just as confident in your sister as you are and she shoots you a smirk. If anyone could save this crucial penalty, it was Mackenzie Arnold.

Dali strikes the ball thinking she might outplay your goalkeeper as she sends it in the same path as the previous one but Mackenzie hunts it down like a prey and Kenza holds her head as your sister stares down the referee. The cheeky bugger! Once the save is awarded to her she turns to the crowd yelling before she joins the rest of you. 6-6.

Courtnee glances back at the team once before focusing her attention on the ball. You know she’s going to score, she never missed a penalty before.

The crowd in the stadium are loud, already clapping her on before she even takes the shot. She runs up, leans forward and pulls her leg back, when it comes back down it hits the ball with power and it sails through the air.

Durand dives and the ball is there, the ball is there but Durand doesn’t get a hand on it- IT GOES IN! 7-6.

The Matildas are through to the semi-finals! If Australia was loud before, well they’re deafening now as they go wild in their screams of cheering.

Courtnee takes off in a sprint and the rest of you follow her as you scream her name and dog pile each other, a massive sense of relief and joy overflowing in your systems. The subs run in too and Courtnee finds herself in the middle of the group hug, eyes welling up.

“YES VINEY!” “FUCKING YES MATE!”

The atmosphere, you’ve never felt this before and your team celebrates wildly, jumping up and down, screaming and happy tears running down some of your cheeks.

“Oh my god, we’re through!” your disbelieving tone makes Hayley chuckle and she takes your face into her hands, the smile on her face larger than you have ever seen it be.

“We fucking are, we are fucking winning this shit!” she brings you into a bone crushing hug and you let out a teary laugh at her choice of words.

You back away for just a moment, eyes searching for a tall brunette and when you spot her you see her also looking for you. You’re in your sister’s arms in an instant, tightly clinging on to her as she spins the two of you around, laughs escaping both of your mouths as you hug her head close to your chest.

“Macca, you’re my fucking hero!” you pull back just enough to see her face and she breaks out in a toothy grin, her eyes shining with pride and ecstasy and just about every emotion possible as she lets you back down to your feet.

“No, you are my hero!” she counters as she cups the back of your neck, leaning down slightly to be at your height. Her words mean the absolute most to you, and the proud look on her face means even more, just like the proud look on yours- it makes both of your hearts swell.

A confused glint flashes in Mackenzie’s eyes as you take her gloved hands into yours but you only continue grinning as you get down on one knee, bowing your head in front of her gloved hands. Those hands have been the ones to save Australia’s ass so many times and you give your sister the praises she deserves even if it’s in the form of a silly bow. Mackenzie throws her head back with a loud watery laugh but the picture taken of the two of you makes headlines the following morning, newspapers filled with Vine’s diVine game winning goal and Mackenzie’s amazing saves.

Celebrations are taken to the changing room and then to the bus until half the team passes out in exhaustion and the last 20 minutes of the bus ride back to camp is silent, hushed whispers the only thing heard from the few that are still awake, yourself included.

You finally had the chance to talk to your one and only, and that’s exactly what you were doing.

Your arm is lazily hanging over Steph’s right shoulder as she whispers to you, her body turned towards you. You’re playing with the ends of her hair behind her back but you give her all your attention as you listen to her, the smile on your lips never leaving your face.

“You did so good today, pretty girl” it makes her face flush and she looks away for a second, a massive smile taking over her features and you have to stop yourself from giggling at the lovesick look in her eyes.

“But I missed that penalty-”

“It doesn’t matter, you played amazing all throughout, Stephy. And that half time speech, my god!” you cut right in and tell her just how it was. The defender drops her head to your shoulder and then tucks it into the crook of your neck as your arms wrap around her to bring her closer.

“You were amazing too” she murmurs into your skin and you bury your nose into her hair.

Mackenzie watches the interaction from just a few rows in front of you, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she turns to Caitlin next to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me they’d be so cute?” she’s met with an incredulous look and a beat of silence passes before the forward next to her deadpans.

“Because of your initial reaction!?”

“Oh..right. Forgot about that.”

The following days your training sessions are focused on defensive work and quick counter attacks. You were getting ready for the semi final against England, ranked second in the world.

That meant close to nothing to your team. After all, the Matildas came into the tournament as the underdogs and now they were one of the last ones still standing. Anything was possible.

#futbol16 #woso imagine #woso x reader #steph catley x reader #mackenzie arnold x reader #caitlin foord x reader #matildas x reader #australia matildas imagine

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