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halfwayunder · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

Summary: A match with Brighton is interrupted by a pitch invader.

Pairing: Arsenal Women x Arsenal!Reader

Warning: Assault | Avoidance | Anxiety | Some Angst

Word Count: 4.6k

Meadow Park, Borehamwood

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"Y/L/N!" Katie yells from across the pitch and you waste little time in punting the ball over the heads of half a dozen players to her, leading to certified banger of a goal in the seconds that follow and making the score 2-0 in the 61st minute after Caitlin's screamer near the end of the first half. You sprint over to the Irishwoman and launch yourself onto her back, cheering ecstatically as the pair of you are swarmed by the rest of your team.

.....

You had been with the club for over a year now, one of several promising names signed to the Gunners in the summer of 2022, and while you hadn't yet been with the team long enough to cement your place in it as one of its icons, you hadn't needed a lot of time to make plenty of friends among its roster.

Prior to joining Arsenal, you had been Everton's star girl, having played with the Liverpudlian side for over four years before moving to North London in a change that had caused almost as much upset among the Blues fans as it had excitement in the Gooners. It had been a tough decision, but both you and your manager had known that you needed more room to develop your talent and that such room could only be found at a team that regularly fought at the top of the league.

Besides, it had been a far better choice than the alternative of moving to Liverpool. (You still couldn't believe they had been bold enough to even offer.)

Initially, you'd been worried by the prospect of moving both city and club, leaving behind the team you'd grown so close to and entering a new, unknown environment filled with some pretty impressive (and subsequently intimidating) talents. Generally, you were a very confident person and not someone who tended to doubt yourself, but even then, the idea of playing alongside the likes of Miedema and Williamson with reputations known far and wide was a little daunting for a player with a relatively lowkey profile.

But, despite that you had more than proven yourself in your first full season with the club, serving as a reliable forward and netting yourself a handful of goals in the process, even if you weren't a regular in the starting eleven. (You tried not to take it personally given that it was your first season, though your competitive streak made the task a little difficult at times.)

The girls had accepted you with open arms as one of their own, and any reservations you'd had about switching to Arsenal had all but vanished by the time international break had started and you'd gone off the World Cup down under. The teammates on either side of you today were more than just co-workers, they were your friends, and sometimes they even felt like family.

.....

"Alright, you've all done a very good job this half." Jonas starts approvingly as you and the rest of the girls gather round for a brief strategy talk, with Cloé sitting on the pitch not too far away being looked over by the medics. There (probably) isn't anything wrong with her, but it's a good excuse to get a quick chat with the coach in before the game continues. It's the 75th minute and Brighton has been putting on the pressure, propelled forward by an influx of their benched players and possibly some added desperation after Katie's goal.

"Jen, Kyra, Kat, we cannot get complacent now, we need to reassert control over the midfield and lessen the pressure on our defence. Remember, their number 10 loves to make those late runs, so mark her tightly." Your coach continues, his attention turned to the midfielders as he makes quick work of the review while Cloé gets back up to some applause from the crowd and limps towards you and the others, heading for the nearby bench with the team physio and a pair of medics by her side. Already, Lina is taking her jacket off to sub in just behind you.

The chat concludes and the game continues, having only been paused for around a minute and a half as you share a glance with some of the other girls while you all run back onto the pitch with haste. You aren't normally the type to feel as if the result has been decided before the final whistle blows, but you feel confident that you'll be walking away with a win tonight, content with another strong performance.

If only.

It's the 83rd minute when it happens, 8 minutes after your group chat and 7 until the match's conclusion. You're not doing anything when the first signs of a problem arise in the form of distant gasps and disapproving yells from the crowd, you're just standing there with your hands idly on your hips, walking slowly along the pitch and keeping track of the ball as it's passed around in the midfield, a sizable distance from where you are.

You aren't paying attention to what's behind you.

"Y/L/N!" You hear Katie yell again from some ways away, but this time there's something different in her tone that alerts you, there's an urgency in it that's uncharacteristic, one that makes you think something's wrong, and it doesn't take you long to find out what it is.

"Stupid cow!" Is what you hear slurred from behind you before a searing pain suddenly springs forth from the side of your head, the impact of something hard sending you stumbling to the side before you quickly lose your footing and tumble to the ground, the left half of your face hitting the grass with such momentum that it briefly bounces back up before dropping down again.

Your vision blurs for a second or two as you instinctively reach for the sides of your head to cradle it protectively, your legs lifting up until you're just short of a fetal position. You quickly understand that you've been hit by someone and brace for a second attack, one that fortunately doesn't come as you hear sounds of a scuffle nearby.

Your right temple pulses with hurt and you can't help but scrunch your face up, closing and opening your eyes in a rabid blink to try and adjust your sight and shake off the disorientation that has you locked in its grip. For a few moments you lose track of time, wrapped up in your own world of pain before you see someone kneel down in front of you and feel their hands cup over your cheeks, turning your head up to face them.

It's Beth.

"Jesus Christ, you alright?" She asks intensely, her face shaped by a mix of exasperation and concern as you feel someone else's hands slot under your armpits and sit you up, you feel a minor sense of relief at the fact you don't immediately become nauseous at the movement, and the world starts to filter back to high resolution as your disorientation dissipates.

"Yeah.. yeah, I'm alright." You finally find the strength to speak, frowning as you continue to rub at your right temple and look around, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. Your head still hurt, but not quite as bad now and you're sitting up, surrounded on all sides by a wall of red and white football kits, all belonging to women who's gazes were entirely focused on you and who all looked either worried sick, pissed off or both.

Behind them, you could only just see another gathering of bodies that was leaving the pitch. A sea of high-vis jackets, some emblazoned on their backs with 'Security' and others 'Police'.

"Fucking maniac." You hear one of the girls around you say, "How'd they let that happen?" Someone else asks to no one in particular, "Stupid dickhead, should throw him in the sea." A third voice suggests angrily and the accent leaves little room for candidates who's surname isn't McCabe.

You feel some of the girls pat you on the shoulder or rub your back, and Beth takes one of your hands in her own, hands disappearing from your face so they can help you stand up before the wall of Arsenal red parts to let in the team physio and doctor who quickly disapprove of the idea and sit you back down before you've even had the chance to get your bum off the grass.

A light is flashed in each of your eyes, causing you to wince, and you're bombarded with a series of questions that lead you to assume the pair are checking for a concussion. But- after what feels like forever, with the hairs on your skin standing up as you become increasingly aware of what a cold night it is now that the warmth from your exertion during the game has worn off- the two medical professionals get up from their crouched position and carefully help you stand up too.

The crowd cheers for the development and you let out a breath, shaking your head with a small, cynical smile as you were met with looks of sympathy from your teammates. The side of your head still hurt, but it had diminished to the point that you could probably ignore it, though it was still far from comfortable.

"Had to happen to me, eh?" You say to Beth, who can't help but let out a short breathy laugh.

"Maybe he's an Everton fan." Jen proposes and you laugh with a nod. "Left it a bit long, didn't he?" Steph replies with a feigned confusion.

You walk to the bench with the physio, doctor and Beth, with the rest of the team giving you a few more supportive words and pats on the back before heading back to their places on the pitch. It wasn't as if they were going to cancel the game over one rowdy wanker, after all, besides there was less than ten minutes left.

"Are you okay?" Jonas asks as you approach the Arsenal bench and you nod, being brought in for a quick hug before he adds, "That was totally unacceptable. We'll need to address it with the club. Get more security." He sounds angry, and not just with your assailant. You hadn't really had the time to process what had happened given how fast it had all been, but as you sit down at the team bench, receiving another warm reception from the girls there, the ones who'd been playing in the first half, you begin to get where he's coming from. How could that be allowed to happen? What if the guy had a weapon? What if-

"My girl." Your thoughts on what could have happened are interrupted by an unmistakable voice, Leah. Putting that Southern pronunciation on the word 'girl' that you loved so much, but sounding just as worried as everyone else who'd spoken to you did. The blonde wastes little time in leaning down to envelop you in a hug from where you sit, and you return it with a smile, letting out a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding in, and it coming out shaky much to your confusion. You felt fine.

"Good thing you weren't on the pitch, otherwise that prick probably wouldn't have left it." You joke with a small smile as the two of you pull apart and Amanda to your left budges up so Leah can sit down next to you, her brows furrowed in that steep arching frown she liked to do. The match in front of you continues as it had before. Alessia sits on your right, trying to be considerate by not unnecessarily intruding but occasionally giving you a side glance with a smile.

"Honestly, if they hadn't gotten to him first. Fucking wanker." Her blue eyes dart to the side, momentarily looking out to the pitch before returning to you. She reaches out an arm and wraps it over your shoulder, pulling you close, you have no objection, and you can't resist the amused huff of air you let out at the thought of what Leah might have done if she had been there and had two properly working legs.

A small comfortable silence settles between you both until the defender asks, "You alright?" and you nod almost on instinct, giving her a smile. "Yeah. Head hurts a little, but I did just get punched." You joke, but Leah doesn't laugh, or even smile, instead penetrating you with those deep blue eyes. "I know that, dummy, they wouldn't sit you on the bench if you were hurt like that. I meant the other kind of alright."

You shrug and for the first time since you'd seen her, your eyes drift off to the pitch and you shift in your seat. Yeah, you were fine. But, the idea that you might not be didn't sit right with you, or rather, the idea that Leah and by extension the rest of the team might not think you are.

"You mean if I'm all... shaken up? Quaking in my boots?" You retort with some dry wit and a slight smirk, putting some faux dramatism on your words as you glance back to Leah for a moment before returning your eyes to the game. You felt fine, but the question seemed to stir something in you, applying a light pressure to your chest that wasn't there before. You didn't like it.

Leah didn't seem amused and you feel her stare boring into the side of your face, inspecting you almost. "Yeah." Is her short reply, as if she isn't looking to entertain your attempts at humour. As if she takes the incident more seriously than you do.

You shrug again and look over to the blonde with an expression that borders between nonchalance and indifference. "Then yeah, I'm all good in that department too. If fucking Jack Grealish can handle a punch then I think I'll be fine." That one seems to have some effect on Leah's stern, concerned demeanour and she gives a small smile, shaking her head slightly as if reprimanding herself for not knowing better to expect any other kind of answer from you.

But she tightens her arm around you just a bit regardless, pulling you in just a little more than you already were, even as she turns away to face the pitch as the game approaches the final whistle, her eyes lingering on you a little longer. "Alright.. but if that changes, you know I'm here, right?" She asks with a sincerity that makes you a little uncomfortable, partly because you'd always been a little awkward around more heartfelt exchanges of emotions, and partly because.. well you couldn't really figure out that other feeling, but it adds to that small pressure on your chest.

"Yeah, I know." You get out with a firmness, more to reassure the defender that you'd be willing to open up in that sense than anything else. You weren't sure if you ever would, even if your feelings did change. But, you were.. confident that they wouldn't. You felt fine, after all.

The final whistle blows not long after.

.....

The hum of fluorescent lights fill Meadow Park's comparatively humble locker room as the team trickles in, sweaty and exhausted from a relatively hard fought win. There's the usual post-match banter, the teasing, the recounting of the odd tackle and the two winning goals. But there's also a.. tension in the air, an undercurrent of concern and empathy directed toward one player in particular and unfortunately you're all too aware of it.

You take your usual spot by your locker, trying to blend in with the post-game routine as seamlessly as you can. You begin to unlace your boots, your fingers working with a rehearsed, mechanical precision. You didn't like it when people fussed over you, and you always tended to think that their attention was better spent or even better deserved elsewhere. You didn't really like being the centre of attention either, positive or negative. So, sitting here, and knowing that every now and then a different set of eyes would glance over at you, or that every second conversation featured you in some capacity, it wasn't a fun feeling, even if all of it derived from the most kind intentions.

You slip your cleats off and lean back against your locker as you sit in your cubby, looking up at the ceiling and releasing your second shaky breath of the night against your will. That pressure on your chest hasn't gone away and it's beginning to annoy you as you close your eyes and try to relax yourself, feeling oddly tense.

Between the chaos of the initial aftermath, your conversation with Leah and some of the banter you'd tried to get yourself involved with during the short walk to the locker room after their celebration, you hadn't really had the time (or the desire) to really think back to the incident or process it. It'd happened what? Thirty minutes ago? Yet, it already felt significantly longer.

Your hand reaches up absentmindedly to rub at your right temple as images flash one after the other of the experience. You on the ground, Beth kneeling in front of you and those two words that you hadn't even recalled until now. "Stupid cow." You scratch at your temple for a moment and open your eyes, shaking your head for a second or two as if to ward off the memory.

You let out another breath, and while this one isn't quite shaky, your breathing has gotten a little heavier.

Your hands clasp together and your fingers interlock as you idly rub your thumbs up and down the hand opposite to the one they each belong to. That pressure on your chest makes itself known a bit more and you swallow, your eyes surveying the locker room, not quite knowing what you're searching for but compelled to do it all the same. Why would someone do that? Why would a person just run out onto the pitch and hit a player? Hit you?

"Relax." You tell yourself.

It doesn't do much, and you have to put a hand down onto your knee to stop one of your legs from tapping itself up and down. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" You internally ask yourself. You felt fine. You had felt fine five minutes ago. You had felt fine after being punched in the side of the head. Why are you feeling like this now?

You shift in your cubby and take a deep breath (another shaky one, much to your frustration), trying to regain control of yourself. That fucking weight on your chest is still there.

"Y/N." You hear someone- Katie- say nearby, and you curse to yourself. "Yeah?" You ask with a slightly raised brow, trying to remain lowkey as you look to your left to see the forward standing not too far away next to her own cubby, shoving her boots into a large black duffel bag as she stares at you, most of the other girls are still in their own conversations. Thank God.

"You good?" She asks the question that you've become almost annoyingly familiar with in the past half hour and like before you nod impulsively. Though unlike then you're no longer quite so confident in the honesty of that natural response. "Yeah, all good. Why? Am I getting a bruise?" You say in an attempt to be light hearted, giving the brunette a small smile, but she only frowns back, causing you to swallow.

"Nah, just seemed like you were.. thinking 'bout something."

You break your stare and go back to what you're supposed to be doing, getting changed, leaving Katie unsatisfied as you find your own duffel bag next to you and begin putting your cleats into it. You begin to feel a slight burning at the bottom of your throat but try to ignore it, feeling the corners of your lips reactively curl downward even as you busy yourself with getting changed.

"Fucking idiot." You angrily say to yourself on the inside. "Stop being such a baby." You take off your Arsenal shirt and shove it into the bag with an unusual amount of force. That pressure on your chest grows heavier and your breathes with it. You aren't sure why you feel this way and you hate it. You've never felt like this before and you hate it. Why is this happening? You were fine before.

"Y/N." Your name is called again, only this time it's Leah, and she's standing right behind you, causing you to jump just slightly. Your heart beating a little quicker as you'd been facing your locker, back turned to the rest of the team. Katie must have gotten her.

You take your third shaky breath of the evening before responding with a falsely inquisitive, "Yeah?" as if you hadn't a clue what she'd want to talk to you about. You continue to face your locker, opening it up to take out your casualwear to give yourself a valid reason not to turn around.

"You wanna come with me? Need to talk." She says with a nonchalance that is deceptive. Ordinarily, if Leah needed to talk with someone, she wouldn't hesitate in using her regular old sternness to get the importance across. But, right now? Her tone was light and casual and you weren't an idiot. You know that she was treating this like some kind of sensitive situation when it wasn't. You'd gotten punched by some dickhead and that was it, end of story. It probably happened to a thousand people every day in Britain and you were no different.

"Yeah.. just lemme get dressed first." You reply, sliding on your trousers and feigning your own coolness and composure, though not nearly to the same effectiveness as Leah. Your breathing's still heavy and with each passing moment you begin to feel a growing sense of claustrophobia when you'd never suffered from that in the past. You want air. Maybe you need it. But, you can't let that show.

"Mind turning round, Y/N? It's bad manners not to look at someone when they're talking to you."

You won't let it show.

"Look, Leah. If this is about that dickhead again, I told you I'm all good." You retort dismissively, wanting to put the questioning to bed.

That pressure grows heavier.

"Well, I don't think you are."

Your heart beats faster.

"Oh, and what? You're in my head now are you?" Your frustration peaks through the façade.

Why are they still asking you about it?

"No. I just know when my friends aren't okay." Leah's concerned tone fades and she takes on a sterner one, a tough love one.

Why aren't you fine?

"Well you might want to get your radar checked because I'm fucking fine, Leah." Your brows furrow and you almost grit your teeth as that burning sensation creeps further up your throat. You shouldn't have sworn.

The rest of the locker room is becoming quieter.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

Everyone's looking at you.

"Because you're fucking bothering me!" You yell angrily. And if there had been any conversations left in the room, they cease instantly, cloaking the team in a deafening silence.

You swallow and it almost hurts your throat. You blink and your eyes have a wetness in them that wasn't there ten seconds ago. Your chest lifts and falls dramatically and your hands have a light tremor in them.

But, you were fine ten minutes ago.

You feel a pair of hands take you gently by your waist and you presume them to be Leah's, having that presumption confirmed quickly as the defender turns you around slowly to face her. You don't resist, but you feel almost ashamed as you're rotated to face the rest her and the rest of the girls. You can't even look any of them in the eye, with your eyes dropping to the ground and becoming fixated on your feet because it's easier than looking at anything else.

"You're okay, my girl. You're safe." Leah says, her sternness morphing seamlessly into an almost painfully sincere softness and care as you're pulled in slowly for another hug, though your arms hang almost limply by your sides. You don't know what to do, or what to say, but you feel a stinging in your eyes and a pain in your throat that's becoming more pronounced by the second.

You bury your head into Leah's shoulder because you know you're about to cry, and you feel a surge of intense shame at the realization. Your arms reach up and finally wrap themselves around Leah. You know the rest of the girls are watching you, and it's embarrassing, but you don't know what else to do. You don't feel safe.

"I don't know what the fuck's wrong with me." You finally let out into the blonde's shoulder, feeling the first tears roll down your cheeks. "I was okay and then.. this shit just came out of nowhere. I'm sorry."

Leah pulls away from you, but only slightly, one of her hands lifting your chin to level with her as she looks you dead in the eye, while her other hand reaches up to stroke your cheek. "You have nothing to be sorry about, understand? Nothing. No one thinks any less of you for this, Y/N."

You aren't entirely sure if that's true or not, but Leah, being the natural leader that she is, had a way of making people believe things or feel them even if they otherwise wouldn't. And you're not immune to that effect, nodding somewhat hesitantly in agreement, but nodding regardless as you feel that pressure on your chest lighten ever so slightly.

"The pitch should be a safe place for us and that dickhead tried to take it away." You hear Beth speak up, both to you but also to the rest of the room, with nods and murmurs of concurrence following throughout. Concern and heartbreak can easily turn to anger and a need for justice, and even in your frustratingly vulnerable state, you can see that change begin to take place in the confines of the locker room as the scene between you and Leah made it perfectly clear to everyone that you had been effected by that attack on more than just a physical level.

"Everyone's here for you, alright? Nothing like that is ever gonna happen again. Not to you, or anyone else in this game." Leah says, that steeply arched frown returning to her expression as a hint of determination reaches through her words.

She wipes away some of the tears that hadn't quite made their way down your cheeks and pulls you back into the hug, running her hand in circles along your back. "We're gonna make sure he regrets ever coming to this game." The Vice-Captain whispers into your ear with an intensity that almost makes you shiver, and in that moment, you find a piece of your confidence back.

You were confident that the girls had your back. You were confident that Leah would do whatever it took to get justice, and you were confident that one day that wanker would indeed regret ever even coming near you. But, most importantly, you were confident that you wouldn't allow him damage you, that you wouldn't allow him to have anymore significance in your life than a fucking footnote. Regardless of whatever happened next, revenge or not, justice or not. You were simply more valuable than that, and the girls would always help to remind you of that, even if sometimes it was hard to see.

Sometimes, your team felt like more than just a team, and tonight was one of those times.

///

End Notes: Hey, everyone! So this has been my first ever woso fic. I'm still trying to get to grips with pacing and getting some proper good angst, but I hope this is an enjoyable read and a good start!

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal women #awfc #reader insert #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader #woso community #leah is going to fuck shit up

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a-blog-for-kat · 2 months ago

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DRDT CAST ALPHABETICAL ASSOCIATION NUMBERS AND THEIR MEANINGS

IE; Ace (1), Arei (2), Arturo (3), ect.

DRDT SPOILERS AND KAT RAMBLING ABOUT NUMBERS BELOW!! BEWARE!!

1 - Ace is the first name alphabetically in the DRDT cast first name wise because "Ace" means number one, or to be the best at something. Ace is also the first “normal” person on the cast list website, as Teruko is first (protagonist) Xander is second (Support) Charles is third (Antagonist) but Ace is fourth without being extremely tied into the story at this point. It also can signify confidence, something Ace shows in chapter one a little but eventually it got overtaken by just anger and fear.

2 - Arei is number two in the cast, she's the ch2 victim, second person to have her sobbing session before dying (Xander didn’t cry a shocker), or maybe she'll always be second place compared to her sisters, which she has two of? If my memory serves me right (Future Kat here, it does), she’s also the second shortest of the cast after Eden, according to the new biometrics.

3 - In more religious settings, the number three can represent perfection and completeness, which for Arturo is ironic since he doesn’t even have a complete design shown, as we haven’t seen the whole him, only most of him physically (in the sense of we don’t know what his whole face looks like, only the upper part.) Three also represents problem solvers and people who are optimistic in nature and can also be childish. Not like Arturo, but maybe Felicity as she’s three to four years younger than Arturo?

4 - Funnily the first thing that popped up was “earth, wind, water, and fire” so CHARLES IS AN ELEMENT BENDER /j. On a serious note the number four can signify stability and strong foundations. Knowing a little bit into Charles’ backstory (his family spoiled him, he was quite sheltered, he doesn’t remember anything about his brother) he probably had a “stable” homelife until Elliot died, ruining that stability and basically crumbling his foundations, even leading him to gain hemophobia (the fear of blood) and necrophobia (the fear of dead bodies/corpses).

4 cont. - Another meaning to the number four is hard work, which Charles is constantly shown doing. He doesn’t half-ass anything, hell he works as hard as he can to reach his goals. He is the reason the students haven’t absolutely gotten their asses killed yet this trial since he called out Teruko’s wrong.

4 cont part 2. The number four is also a bad omen in East Asia, commonly associated with death. Now, Charles might be Latino, but someone else he's heavily associated with, Whit, is Chinese. Even in the LGI MV, Whit has tetraphobia as a word assigned to him, which is the fear of the number four, possibly hinting to either Charles' or Whits death in the near future.

5 - The number five can symbolize freedom, curiosity, and change. Let's start in order with these three examples, David doesn’t have freedom over his branding and basically his entire public persona. It’s been crafted by his manager to show to the world, the only reason he even was able to escape it was because his secret of being a “manipulator” got revealed and he just had to drop it. There's no point in keeping it up, after all. Curiosity is a bit tricky, but it could mean that he’s curious as to why people do the things they do? Why don't all of them don’t even try to understand Xander’s true intentions with why he stabbed Teruko. Change, well, his entire ideology is “people can’t change.” He believes you’re born either a good person or bad person, and that’s how you’ll stay. If you “changed” you were always a good or bad person to begin with.

5 cont. - One more thing, David’s association with stars, which have 5 points. But all stars burn out eventually, so maybe this symbolizes how David was so burnt out from keeping his public persona that it “died” and the real him is out.

6 - The number six can represent trustworthiness, lovingness, and sympathy. Eden is very trusting, that's actually her entire theme, being very trusting towards others and trying to show Teruko that trust is good. Eden is a very loving person in general, she loves others quite a lot and her secret revolves around kissing a girl, most likely with feelings involved in that. And sympathy. She's a sympathetic person in general. She's basically the glue that holds the cast together.

7 - The number seven usually signifies luck in many modern cultures. It can also signify indecisiveness, which is shown when Hu defends Nico in the class trial but is extremely condescending towards Arturo, even though they have extremely similar situations. (I am not defending either Arturo or Nico, they were both in the wrong for their situations.) It can also be associated with moodiness, which is very much shown in the last two episodes with Hu snapping multiple times.

8 - The number eight can signify being straight-talking and blunt, which we see in J quite a lot. If he doesn’t like something, he’ll state it. When Arturo’s being a creep towards him, he’s justifiably mad and has said multiple times that he wants to be left alone. When he tried to use the remote on MonoTV in episode 4 of Chapter One, he stated that, at the very least, he wanted it to die. He’s also pretty confident, I mean, look at the remote scene. He’s very clearly confident in what he can do.

9 - The number nine can signify humanitarianism and compassion, both things Levi can lack. He’s, at the end of episode 12, revealed to be a remorseless murderer who holds no guilt for his past actions. He is also shown to not know how to feel emotions like grief in situations and even consults Eden about it.

10 - The number ten can mean someone who’s ready to take a new phase in life, this could mean Min was ready to die for Teruko to take a new phase in her life, aka becoming much more untrusting and throwing her into that negative arc. It can also signify order and law, something Min might’ve studied. Also the number ten is a Pythagorean symbol, perfection. Something Min aims to become. Perfect.

11 - The number eleven can symbolize spiritual journeys which….. Unless Nico is going to have some form of spiritual journey, I don’t think this could pertain to them. But it could also be just a journey revolving around their character, becoming someone who’s not afraid to speak their word.

12 - The number twelve is associated with the heavens but can also be cosmic order and perfection, something you strive for as an artist. Being perfect. Which is also a good representative of Rose’s memory, it’s perfect, she won’t forget a detail. But that’s also her downfall, if she sees something awful it won’t leave her memory.

13 - (Has spoken about 13 in the past. Read here.)

14 - The number fourteen can signify new beginnings, a fresh start, and harmony. The last one being ironic as she usually only brings chaos and destruction. New beginnings could mean her using her talent as a new beginning or new outlet instead of hurting herself (if that really is her secret) and a fresh start could mean her starting anew in this killing game? Or even her getting a character arc in the future, though I doubt it.

15 - The number fifteen tends to be associated very sensitive and caring individuals who prioritize the well-being of others over their own. Which can be applied to Whit in a sense, he puts others feelings over others in situations, like trying to make Teruko smile by sacrificing Charles’ dignity. He’s also just a very caring person in general, as it’s shown how he comforted Charles in Chapter One (Sibling Core) or Eden in Chapter Two. Another thing could be how all luxury is in life, Whit seemed to live a relatively normal life before his mother passed, but still tries to make the best of life and make it a luxury.

16 - The number sixteen is a number associated with karma, what goes around comes around. Xander, stabbing Teruko, has done a bad thing, therefore paying with his life. It could also signify pushing others to their life purposes, Xander, after stabbing Teruko, pushed her to her “purpose” of being a cold protagonist. It can also mean a smart mind but Xander isn’t that smart to be honest-

TYSM FOR LISTENING TO MY RAMBLING <3

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #despair time #drdt rambling #i am not tagging all of them

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louisupdates · 4 months ago

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Glastonbury 2024

One Direction’s Louis Tomlinson stages impromptu England match screening at Glastonbury

After festival organisers refused to screen Euros clash, pop singer bought flat screen TV and generator from Argos on Sunday morning and set them up in camping area

Gwilyn Mumford | 30 June 2024

Festivalgoers at Glastonbury were given the opportunity to watch England’s Euro 2024 last-16 match against Slovakia by an unlikely figure: former One Direction star Louis Tomlinson, who livestreamed the game in the festival campsite on a flatscreen television he’d bought from Argos earlier in the day.

Glastonbury officials had announced earlier in the week that the match would not be shown at the festival due to clashes with performances on the major stages, forcing fans to find enterprising ways to watch it. Tomlinson was more enterprising than most, purchasing a flat screen TV and generator on Sunday morning and streaming the game using wifi. He said that he had initially intended to watch the game in the hospitality section but was thwarted by spotty reception, so brought the TV to the main festival site instead.

“It’s the second screen I’ve bought,” Tomlinson told the Guardian during extra time. “The first got cracked. I wasn’t going to take credit for it because it looked like we were going to lose in normal time, but now that we’ve equalised I’m happy to.”

By kick-off a sizeable crowd had gathered on a thoroughfare near the Pyramid stage to watch, with Tomlinson sat with friends towards the front. Initially festival staff had been concerned by the gathering, fearing that it might lead to a crush with attenders leaving the Pyramid stage. Staff said that some fans had been abusive when they said that the impromptu screening would have to be ended.

However, a compromise was found, with Tomlinson’s screen eventually angled away from the thoroughfare. There were cheers as the crowd safety officer confirmed that the screening could go ahead as planned.

For much of the game the mood was tense in the campsite, with England a goal down and struggling to break down a stubborn Slovakia backline. Tomlinson, dressed in a retro England windbreaker with a cross of St George’s flag wrapped around his neck, briefly had to intervene when the stream cut out in the second half. After frantically working the remote control, fans were able to resume watching.

Their mood was lifted further when Jude Bellingham equalised for England in injury time, prompting wild cheers and the brief appearance of a flare. England eventually won the game 2-1 with Harry Kane scoring the winner in extra time.

Tomlinson has had a long association with football. A lifelong fan of Doncaster Rovers, he made an appearance for the club’s reserve team in 2013, and was briefly involved in an attempt to buy the club.

He initially shot to fame with One Direction, who had a hugely successful career after winning TV talent show the X Factor – between 2010 and 2016 they had four chart-topping albums in both the UK and US. Since going on hiatus, Tomlinson has switched to a more indie-rock style, releasing two studio albums. The most recent, 2022’s Faith in the Future, reaching No 1 in the UK. He also founded his own music festival, Away From Home.

#the guardian #louisglasto24 #louiseuros24 #euro 2024 #glastonbury 2024 #louis tomlinson #30.6.2024 #louis press

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overtrred28 · 1 year ago

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Stargirl | matildas x original character fic [part four]

Words; 3.2k

Pairings; matildas team x astrid taylor (OC)

Warnings; swearing, mentions of alcohol

A/N; took me a while to do this one so sorry its a bit late. hopefully you enjoy this, I really like this one. again, please give it some love and hope you like it. also this might have a love interest at some point but i haven't figured it out yet. x

masterlist

The team had now travelled down to Canberra for their second and final match against New Zealand again. Throughout the day they had taken their match day walk, eaten their meals together and prepared for the game, feeling somewhat confident after their last win over the opposing team.

Astrid was still on a buzz from the last game and the love she had been showered in from her teammates, coaches, parents and especially the fans. Making her debut and scoring a goal in the same game on home soil was something really special and Astrid never thought that she would be doing it so young. She was still only 17 and had accomplished so much.

She was in a really good mood and the team could tell. She usually had a fun, bubbly personality, constantly making jokes and pulling lighthearted pranks but today she just had an extra aura about her that instantly lightened the mood of everyone on the team. And they knew why. Not only had she been promised some minutes on the pitch this game, but tomorrow was her 18th birthday. Finally, the baby of the team was becoming an adult; legally at least. And she got to celebrate with her new family; her own unable to until she planned to go home for a little while, now that club season was over and the next camp wasn’t until late June.

The rest of the day was spent in focus mode, making sure everyone was warm and ready for what could be another tough game.

The Matildas were off to a great start, taking possession of the ball and a good few attempts at scoring within the first 14 minutes before a corner from Steph and header from Sam secured their lead on the game. Only two minutes later and a great shot from the edge of the penalty box by Hayley, the ball just skimming past the goalie, had given them that extra leg up on New Zealand.

A shot from Sam had brought them up to 3-0 before New Zealand secured their first goal in the extra time before the whistle blew for halftime and the substitutes got themselves up to warm up in the break.

Astrid, Charli and Kyra found themselves chatting about Astrid’s upcoming birthday while practising passes and shots at the goal.

“Guys it’s not that big of a deal.” Astrid spoke, taking a shot at the net with her right foot, surpassing Teagan’s attempt to block it, sending it right in the back, a small smile at Teagan before turning to the girls with confused expressions on their faces.

“Not a big deal?” Charli used air quotes, stopping her small passes with Kyra. “First of all it’s your first birthday with the team,” She began counting her fingers as she walked closer to Astrid. “It’s tomorrow,” She counted a second finger. “AND it’s your 18th. What is wrong with you?” Charli was clearly more passionate about this than Astrid, gripping the younger girl’s shoulder, trying to look stern but failing, letting out that signature smile.

“I’m with Charli.” Kyra had stepped forward to the pair. Astrid bit her top lip, staying silent, contemplating Charli’s reason.

“Ugh fine. I guess we could do something,” Astrid finally gave in. “But!” She lifted a finger, Charli and Kyra grinning slightly. “Nothing crazy okay, everyone is about to go back to clubs so they probably want to relax.” Astrid spoke, grunting softly as they engulfed her in a hug after sharing a sneaky smirk with one another.

The second half of the game had finally started, and even with a few misses at a shot, the Matildas were still doing well. Substitutions had been made for both sides, all the Aus subs continuing to keep warm and moving on the sidelines. It was at the 70th minute that Alanna went down from a head collision, resulting in a broken nose and having to leave the pitch. That led to Charli being subbed on a few minutes later as a defender, happiness from Astrid growing for Charli and worry growing for Alanna as she was taken to the changeroom.

Again with only 15 minutes until full time, Astrid got to take her place on the pitch, subbing for Caitlin in the left forward position, the coaches hoping her fresh legs might help gain them another goal before the end of the game. And they were right.

The ball was shot far from Lydia, sending it to the midfield where Sam had collected it, heading for the goal but ran out of space, shooting it over to Astrid who shot it through the goalie’s still legs as she expected a higher shot, and slotted it right in the back of the net. The crowd roared, Astrid ran directly to the midfield where most of the team watched the shot, immediately covering the young girl with their bodies, screaming and yelling at her goal that brought them to 4-1.

The huddle of players parted, Charli making sure to press a kiss to Astrid’s forehead before they both ran off to their positions again with wide smiles. The final whistle blew and Australia had won against New Zealand again, Astrid fighting the urge to run and celebrate with her friends, instead calmly shaking hands with the opposition and sharing clap hugs with her teammates.

The team all get to their huddle after a few minutes, happiness running high through them about the successful win, waiting for Tony to begin his speech.

“You’ve been phenomenal in terms of focus and what you can control. Two good games, two wins. This is the closure of the camp now, so that you can enjoy the time with your families tonight, happy birthday to Astrid for tomorrow. Safe travels. Good luck in your club, okay? Looking forward to see you next camp. Good job, everyone.” He wrapped and everyone disconnected to start clapping.

Family and friends were invited down onto the pitch, Harper being snatched up by Mini the second she saw her and Astrid slowly moving to approach the mother and daughter.

“Hi Harper.” Astrid waved at the baby in Mini’s arms.

“Say hi.” Katrina picked up one of Harper’s arms, waving at the player as a smile grew on the baby’s face. “Good job again today Astrid, nice shot.” Mini looked up at the teen.

“Thanks Mini. Welcome back officially.” Astrid met the older woman's eyes and smiled. They both turned in the direction of both teams gathering on the pitch around Aivi, all of them moving closer to the huddle, Astrid going to stand with Kyra and Charli like always.

Aivi was shaving her head today in honour of her brother and donating it in a bid to raise $30,000 for brain tumour research. Everyone cheered on as they watched the brave woman, all running over when it was done, patting and rubbing her bare head as tears sprung in everyone's eyes.

The next morning Astrid had awoken in her and Charli’s hotel room to most of the team, balloons filling the air, and all the girls screaming happy birthday as soon as her eyes had opened. Her heart pounded against her chest at the fright of seeing at least 20 more people in her room at 9am, screaming in her face.

After letting out a quiet ‘fuck’, Astrid’s next reaction was to crawl back under the sheets feeling surprised, shocked and extremely loved in that very moment that the first thing she thought to do was to hide from it. The room filled with laughter and cheers, watching as Kyra and Charli pulled back the sheets and wrapped their arms around Astrid who was about to cry.

“Aye, she’s finally an adult like the rest of us. Took long enough.” Macca yelled from in the room, everyone laughing along with her, Astrid just looked her dead in the eye.

“Does that mean you’ll stop calling me kid?” She cocked her head at the goalkeeper.

“No.” Mackenzie spoke with a dead face.

“Absolutely not.” Alanna chimed in and everyone shook their heads. Everyone gives Astrid a hug and wishes her another happy birthday before leaving, now just Kyra as the only person out of their assigned room. Kyra and Charli approached Astrid on her bed with presents in each of their hands.

“Guys, no. You seriously did not need to do all of this.” Astrid could burst into tears with the amount of love she was receiving from her friends.

“Of course we did.” Kyra came to sit beside Astrid, holding a small bag.

“You’re part of the team, our best friend and as I said yesterday,” Charli paused, trying to emphasise her next point. “It’s your fucking 18th birthday.” Charli smiled and then sat down on the other side of Astrid, placing a box in front of her.

“I love you guys so much.” Astrid pulled the girls in with an arm over each of their shoulders, turning to place a kiss on their cheeks.

“Love you too, now open them please.” Charli was bursting with excitement to watch her open the gifts.

“This one is just from us.” Kyra handing the small bag over to Astrid.

“Thank you.” Astrid smiled, taking the small bag from Kyra’s hand. A little white box was inside, pulling it out to open it. “Oh my god.” Astrid gasped at the ring that was inside the box. It was a simple silver ring, an oval plate in the middle that was engraved with a small soccer ball.

“Do you like it?” Kyra shyly spoke after watching Astrid inspect the ring closer.

“I love it.” Astrid spoke, tears forming in her eyes.

“Good, because now we all match.” Charli smiled, herself and Kyra bringing up their hands to show the same ring on their own fingers. Astrid pouted before the tears of joy ran down her face. She had never felt more loved by two friends. “Oh, star.” Charli used the nickname she had given Astrid in their first camp.

Upon deciding that she couldn’t shorten her full name, Charli began to call her ‘star’ or ‘stargirl’ because her name sounded like something to do with the stars; later the rest of the team adopted it on and off the field. Astrid really liked it and anything was better than Macca teasing her and calling her ‘Asteroid’ or ‘As-turd’; although Astrid did think it was quite funny.

The girls brought the crying girl in their arms again, laughing at her reaction and glad she enjoyed their gift.

“Okay, enough crying. Open the next one.” Kyra spoke, Astrid wiping her face and letting out a small laugh.

“This is a bit of something from everyone.” Charli moved the box closer to the birthday girl.

Astrid opened the box to reveal a bunch of little goodies; a few cards, little bottles of alcohol, some Taylor Swift nic-nacs and other small presents. Astrid examined every one of them, reading every card and letter as the other girls got up to give her some personal space. They also collected some birthday hats they bought, along with a ‘18th birthday’ sash for her to wear.

“This is way too much, thank you.” Astrid jumped up, running to give them a hug again.

“Of course not, you deserve it.” Charli pressed a kiss to Astrids head. “But enough of this, we’re going to be late for breakfast if we don’t hurry up.” They all looked at the time and realised they had to be down in 10 minutes.

To Astrid’s surprise, the rest of the day was spent with the team as she thought most of them would be leaving today to go back to club. But when Kyra and Charli notified them of the important birthday a few months back, they all decided to stick around an extra day and celebrate their youngest member. She was showered with love throughout their team breakfast, when they went for a picnic lunch and then at a nice dinner where a cake was being brought out.

“Happy Birthday to Astrid, happy birthday to you.” The table cheered, taking photos and videos of Astrid and her cake, a wide smile on her face.

“HIP HIP!” Charli led the entire restaurant who had joined in.

“HOORAY!”

“HIP HIP!”

“HOORAY!”

“HIP HIP!”

“HOORAY!” Everyone clapped as Astrid leant forward to blow out the candles, silently making her wish that she could be with this group of people forever.

“Okay, now you have to skull your drink.” Sam who was sat across from Astrid pushed the girl’s almost full cocktail towards her. Her mouth opened in confusion. “It’s tradition, kid. It’s what you do at your 18th.” Sam simply shrugged her shoulders, Astrid looking to her other teammates who were nodding with grins, some holding their phones out to film her.

So she picked up her drink and began drinking it fast, trying not to spill any on her new dress. Everyone cheered and clapped until she was done and she wiped her mouth, showing off her empty drink.

A lot of the team members had left after dinner, opting to for an early sleep before their international flights, rather than taking Astrid clubbing for the first time. Those who remained with Astrid included, Kyra, Charli, Cortnee, Courtney, Clare Wheeler, Teagan, Ellie with Caitlin and Steph acting as chaperones for the youngsters.

Flash forward to 2am and the last remaining partiers stumbled into the hotel lobby by the guide of Steph and Caitlin. Charli and Cortnee held Astrid up with either of her arms, Courtney and Kyra following behind, Steph and Caitlin just watched all of them drunkenly walk to the lifts, trying not to laugh. They all eventually made it to their rooms, Steph instructing Charli to call her in case something happened with Astrid who was drunker than her.

Charli guided the girl who was almost passed out into their room and sat her down on her bed.

“Star, hey.” Charli stopped Astrid from falling asleep. “You’ll be mad at me tomorrow if we don’t get this makeup off and out of this dress. So just stay awake for a few more minutes. Okay?” Astrid nodded silently, using Charli’s outstretched arms to pull herself up and walk to the bathroom.

With makeup removed, teeth brushed and now both in pyjamas, Charli led the drunk girl back to her bed and helped her under the covers. As soon as Astrid’s head hit the pillow, she was out cold. Charli snapped a quick photo before falling asleep in her own bed.

Safe to say it was a good night out when Astrid woke up with a pounding headache, the natural sunlight pouring into the room harsh on her eyes, quickly pushing her face back into her pillow with a grunt.

“Oh welcome back from the dead.” Charli laughed as she walked out of the bathroom, Astrid lifting her head slowly to give the girl a death stare. “How do you feel, party girl?” Charli sat at Astrid’s feet, watching the girl slowly sit up, hands rubbing her face.

“Fucking shit.” She laughed as she met Charli’s face. “I went hard didn’t I?” Astrid rubbed her temples, attempting to ease the pounding in her head but it wasn’t working.

“Oh yeah. You did. Come on.” Charli laughed, hitting Astrid's feet as she stood herself up. “Let’s go soak up all that alcohol with food, coffee and water.” Astrid groaned but slowly got out of bed. After a shower and some fresh clothes, Charli and Astrid had made their way to the team breakfast room again where most of the team still sat, Astrid may have walked in with a pair of sunnies over her eyes.

“She made it through the night everyone!” Mackenzie threw an arm over Astrid’s shoulder as she rolled her eyes at the goalkeeper. She nudged her away and flipped her the bird with a smile before walking over to the coffee station.

“Fun night then?” Hayley asked as Astrid sat down next to her with an iced coffee and some buttered toast.

“Yeah… I think. I don’t remember a lot actually…” She took her sunnies off and rubbed her eyes. “I better ask the babysitters.” She directed her head over to where Steph and Caitlin sat.

“First night drinking and you got black out. Nice.” Sam reached across the table for a fist bump which Astrid loosely returned, shaking her head slowly, which ended up bringing back the headache that was fading into the background.

Everyone finished their breakfast slowly, taking in these last moments of camp together because not all of them would be together for quite a while. A lot of the senior players were going into an off season soon after returning to their international homes and taking a break for the first time in a while.

Everyone caught a flight together back to Sydney from Canberra before separating for their international and domestic flights, saying goodbye to each other in the departure terminals.

Kyra, Courtney and Charli were the last people Astrid had to say goodbye to, the three of them heading back to Sweden and Astrid sticking behind in Sydney.

“I’m going to miss you guys so much.” She brought them all in for a group hug quickly.

“It’s okay, we’ll be back together for the next camp soon.” Charli hugged Astrid singularly, squeezing her close to her one last time.

“Where hopefully we all get some more playing time.” Courtney smiled at the youngest girl.

“And we can have even more drunken nights with miss party animal over here.” Kyra teased, Astrid pushed her shoulder lightly, shaking her head.

“Alright, you guys better go before you miss your flight.” Astrid nodded at them to go, putting a small smile on her face that hid the fact she was quite sad she wasn’t going with them. One day, hopefully. “Have a safe flight. Love you.” Astrid called out as they walked away.

“Love you stargirl. I’ll text when we land.” Charli yells back before they are out of view.

“Ready to go?” Cortnee came up behind Astrid, she had been patiently waiting for her to say her goodbyes after her own with other teammates.

“Yeah, sorry for making you wait.” Astrid apologised as they wheeled their luggage out of the doors and began making their way to Cortnee’s car they left parked before camp.

“No, it’s all good. I get it.” Cortnee smiled over at Astrid. They made their way back to Astrid’s apartment where Cortnee dropped her off. They said their own goodbyes, Astrid promising to text her later as she made her way inside.

Her place was small, one bed, one bath, a kitchen and a living room, but she didn’t need much more for just herself. She was leaving again to go back home tomorrow, seeing her extended family for the first time since Christmas to celebrate her birthday with them. That meant she had the next 16 hours to unpack, repack, sleep and get on the road to Bateau Bay.

She also had to think about the next club season and what that looked like for her. Her short contract with Sydney FC was officially over and her agent hadn’t contacted her just yet about whether that was going to continue or if other clubs were looking at her for the 2022/2023 season. Hopefully she would know soon and her future would be clearer than it is now.

to be continued...

#auswnt #auswnt x reader #matildas #matildas x reader #kyra cooney cross #alanna kennedy #caitlin foord #charli grant #mackenzie arnold #sam kerr #steph catley

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louistomlinsoncouk · 4 months ago

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#louis tomlinson #press #30jun24

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teenagecriminalmastermind · 3 months ago

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blue blood - chapter 5 (an aemond targaryen x team black daughter fanfiction)

reply to this post if you want to be on a taglist!

currently tagging: @prettyduckling22 @mamawiggers1980 @jadewaldorf2312 @omgsuperstarg

chapter 1: prologue chapter 2: the bells chapter 3: the race chapter 4: claw isle

chapter 5: bloodstream.

Sleep does not come easy to her.

The physicians urge her on the very first night to take some milk of the poppy to ease her pain enough to sleep through the night but she is adamant, shaking her head in dissent. “I will bear the pain, but I cannot take the milk,” she insists. “I cannot let even the possibility that Prince Aemond Targaryen will sneak up on me be entertained.” She knows the Queensguard are capable, but she has seen firsthand just what he is capable of when pushed.

And now, he has a goal. A single-minded goal to get back at her for her purported crimes.

“Are you certain, my lady?” the physician asks, his brows furrowed in worry. “We cannot afford another misstep, and not taking the milk of the poppy could lead to serious complications. Your wounds, while they have the potential to heal swiftly, are still serious enough to merit at least a week of rest.”

“It will not keep you dead asleep,” the maester adds, trying to allay her worries. “But it is crucial to your recovery and the reduction of your pain.” Daella stills for a moment, thinking it over. She wishes to recover as soon as she can, and if the opiate has a dual effect, then she is willing to take the risk. She knows a lack of sleep due to pain will further worsen the chances of a quick return, so she nods warily. She turns to Erryk Cargyll, the loyal Queensguard standing at the threshold of the room.

“That man cannot be allowed to come even close to this castle,” she orders. “Not as much as for myself as for my mother.” Aemond is after the crown, and he was at peace with almost killing Daella. What is to say that he would not hesitate to kill his own half-sister, to bear the stain of kinslayer in order to secure his brother the victory? “Erryk, that man is dangerous. He is not to be taken lightly. At all.”

A maester walks back into her chambers, passing Daella a medium-sized vial of the drug. “A few drops in your tea every four hours, Your Highness. Try to stay in bed and recover as much as you can. Do not try to walk unless it is absolutely necessary. I will return in a few hours with another physician to check on your progress.” She knows they are placing these restrictions on her to aid in the speed of her recovery and return to battle, but she cannot help but feel aggravated by this turn of events. Aemond Targaryen is out there, loose and dangerous, and she can do nothing but watch from the sidelines until her body is willing to cooperate again.

“Days,” she mutters darkly under breath. “We cannot afford days. At least not while he is hale and uninjured himself.” Besides her father the Rogue Prince, no one is more than an equal match for the One-Eyed Prince, and the older man is needed here by the side of his Queen. She is the next best option, and she needs to heal as soon as she can.

“This is important, Princess,” Ser Erryk speaks up, looking at the young girl bandaged up in her bed. “Your mind may tell you you can battle again now, but your body is severely wounded. The gods were good enough to ensure you had no overly severe wounds, by the kind of injuries one must sustain after tumbling off dragonback at that speed must need proper tending to.” Alas, the knight is right, and she cannot refute his words.

She is lucky that the injuries have mostly been sustained through cuts over her body and bruised ribs, and that the maesters cannot detect any internal bleeding. No matter how vexing, she must stay in bed if she plans to be an asset to the war effort. A battle wages in her mind as she watches the cup of tea be set down by her bedside, Ser Erryk retreating as he closes the door with a soft click. She can either take the drug and rest well, or she can give in to her paranoia and lie awake in pain, anticipating an attack that most likely shall not come tonight.

In the end, her screaming ribs win, and she adds a few drops of the milk of the poppy to the tea, the liquid swirling into her tea like tendrils of a cloud, of a milky river slowly making its way through the dark brown waters. It doesn’t take long after she downs the concoction, and Daella drifts away to sleep with the sounds of thunder and a madman’s laugh echoing in her head.

The next few days are nothing short of misery. She lays in bed most, if not all of the time, and every few hours a maester and physician come to check on her, the only good news being that their reactions to her injuries are consistently positive. They frown as they examine her face and hands, cleaning her many stitches as they replace bandages. “Your Highness,” they say, as if gearing up to deliver bad news.

“What is it?” Daella questions them sharply, dreading the worse. What if infection has set in? What if there is a chance of rot, of gangrene? She cannot take being out of the war any longer, let alone risk permanent loss of faculties or death.

“These wounds on your palms and across your cheek,” the maester says as he presses the bandage shut across her right cheek with a sealant poultice, “they will scar, Princess. Permanently.” So this is what they had been building it up to? She cannot help but laugh, wincing as the movement makes her cut cheek hurt.

“And here I was worried you were out to spell my death, Maester Gerardys,” she chuckles. “Scars are of little consequence to me now. My biggest worry is whether I can fight soon. Is that still a possibility? Will my hands heal enough to wield a sword?”

“Not without bandages wrapped around them, Princess,” he warns her. “You shall be able to wield your sword without breaking your stitches open in a week, but you shall not be able to fight without your bandages.” She takes their words into consideration and lets her sister Rhaena feed her and the servants bathe her, and lets her parents and Lucerys fuss over her, everyone determined for her to heal as soon as they can humanly ensure it. She doesn't like being hobbled and crippled like this, but Daella has no choice in the matter, not if she wishes to be back in the fray as soon as she wants to.

“Ser Erryk?” She asks the fourth day of her recovery.

“Yes?” The man perks up, walking to her bedside.

“Could you kindly send for the Princess Rhaenys? I wish to speak to my aunt.” The man does not question the nature of her request, and Rhaenys Targaryen enters her niece’s room not long after, a worried, matronly look gracing her features. There is an air of authority in the way she carries herself, despite the fact that she only wears a flowing dress rather than armour.

“Your Highness,” Daella greets her, using her elbows to help herself up to a seated position. “How was Claw Isle? I trust you handled him well. I can only imagine his ire towards me was rather severe, and I cannot imagine he made it easy for you or for Lord Celtigar, or tried to see reason.”

The princess steps forward and leaned against the bed frame, her eyes taking Daella in. “He would love to see you dead, you know,” she mentions, a bitter smile playing upon her lips. The sentiment amuses the younger woman, Daella rather unsurprised at this reaction from Aemond.

“I guessed as much,” she chuckles. “The man has a near-blinding determination to see my demise through.”

Rhaenys nods, her eyes lost in thought, mouth set in a grim line. “He is a threat to us all,” she says after a moment of silence. “And yet, he is our nephew.” Daella grasps the unsaid implication in those words, the weight of the horror of kinslaying hanging over all of them like a stormcloud. “He cannot be reasoned with, and he cannot be stopped. You were wise to escape when you did, I think, or else you would have paid a visit to the Seven Hells that night. Aemond Targaryen is not a man who lets anyone defy him, and he sees it as the world rewarding you for the wrong reasons.”

“I suppose,” Daella mutters as she runs the back of her hand over the unmarred side of her face. “But the crown aside, I do not understand his grudge against me. It is not as if I am any better than him or outshine him in a manner to drive him to envy. He is one of the sharpest minds I have met, one of the most lethal fighters I’ve witnessed despite his lack of an eye, yet he holds such anger towards me.”

“A sharp mind, a fearsome warrior and yet, a fool," Rhaenys says, shaking her head. "Intelligence and wisdom do not go hand in hand, and he is living proof. He harbours some form of jealousy against you,” Rhaenys muses. “He believes that you, a bastard, have stolen something from him. He believes that the gods owe him something, not you.”

“The gods do owe him something,” the young princess replies, thinking back to Driftmark. “They owe him recompense over his eye, Aunt Rhaenys. He was robbed of his sight and innocence that night, and he was never given justice for it. And since I am Lucerys' older sister, showcasing the same unmitigated gall with this theft, I suppose it magnifies his anger a hundredfold.”

At that, the older woman’s face twists into a sympathetic expression, something akin to shame dancing on her features. “I do not discount what happened to him that night. It was not right and it was not just, and I understand why he is angry. But he is also a fool, a fool who will drive himself to madness until he finds an object to direct his anger towards." She crossed her arms over her chest. "And he has found that object in you.”

Daella stills at that observation, a rueful look on her face as she wonders what it would be like to live with that festering in one’s soul for almost a decade, to feel the sting of injustice every time one looks in the mirror, a haunting reminder of what was stolen from them. “I wish I could make him see reason,” she sighs. Rhaenys laughs, shaking her head.

“My dear, no one can make Aemond Targaryen see reason but himself.” She moves closer, sitting at the edge of Daella’s bed as she looks at her with eyes filled with resignation. “He will never give up his hate, because he has nothing else left.” It makes Daella sad, to see a man that capable reduced to mere seething rage.

“It was comforting to see you unscathed, Aunt Rhaenys. The man has instilled some fear in me when it comes to him, and I was worried for your safety,” she confesses. The Red Queen’s rider smiles at the injured girl, a look of reassurance and confidence on her face as she places a hand on her shoulder.

“I understand the fear, my girl," she says. “But together, we shall overcome it. Now rest,” she adds. "You have much to recover from.” Daella nods as the woman leaves, taking another cup of tea with the milk of the poppy as she once again sleeps into the night. By the time the ninth day rolls around, she gains some use of her hands, albeit with some difficulty, and the stitches from her cheek have been removed, leaving an angry, red scar in its wake.

She wagers she will be able to ride a dragon with not much difficulty and grip her saddle fine, but her greater worry lies in being able to wield any kind of a weapon, which she is not so sure of at the moment. The pain in her ribs has subsided, and she feels more clear headed, but her paranoia has not fully left her. She wonders on the ninth night of her recovery as to when the other shoe will drop, when the man will eventually show up at her door, demanding a payment in fire and blood.

Daella takes the drug again before bed and lets sleep claim her, but the peace is short-lived, and she is woken up by sounds of rustling by her bedside.

She doesn’t speak a word as she peers around her dark room, the pouring rain outside filling her room with a comforting hum. As she surveys the place, there is no one there - at least no one she can see. Yet, the feeling of someone's presence lingers. The shadows in the room seem to grow darker as the rain pours outside, and the dim flicker of candlelight casts eerie, shifting patterns upon the walls.

“I must be going insane,” she mutters to herself, rubbing the good side of her face with her bandaged hands, her words echoing in the silence of the room. There is nothing to suggest anyone else’s presence in her chambers, yet the feeling of being watched never leaves her, and a chill of unease creeps up her spine as she glances around the darkened room, the shadows seemingly reaching out towards her in the flickering candlelight.

“I know someone is there,” she breathes out, keeping her voice level. “Whoever it is, let us drop the pretence.” At her words the shadows seem to twist and contort, as if reacting to her challenge. The candlelight flickers, seemingly dimmed by the shifting darkness itself. But as quickly as the shadows move, they become still once more, leaving only the faint sound of her breathing mixed in with the rain. “Maybe I truly am just paranoid,” she mutters to herself, sinking back into bed.

But that peace too is short lived, and Daella swears she hears the sound of boots near-inaudibly moving on the stone floor of her chambers. The feeling of being watched does not leave her, and she stays awake in bed, her eyes trained on the shadows, the way the lone candle flickers in one of the sconces. Not enough to illuminate the room well enough, save the door. Today is the second night she has been truly left alone by the staff and the maesters, the servants and Ser Erryk waiting outside her door were she to need any assistance.

Just how badly has Aemond wounded her, if her mind is this fractured still?

As the shadows in the room seem to dance and coil with each shift of light, her eyes strain to make out a form or figure hiding within the void, and every few glances she swears she sees a silhouette. “There is no one here,” she whispers reassurances to herself, “I am simply far too paranoid regarding a reckless man.” The candlelight flickers and dances on the walls, creating shifting patterns as if mocking her efforts to convince herself of her safety and solitude. As the minutes pass, a peculiar feeling of being watched persists, and the silence in the room feels almost oppressive.

“Okay, that's enough,” she tells herself as she gets to her feet, lighting a candle using the one by the door. “I am getting a torch or a sword, but I will stand for this no longer.” The shadows in the room appear to withdraw deeper into the corners, as if retreating from her sudden movement.

But they never fully leave.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond x oc #aemond x y/n

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bearterritory · 5 months ago

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#4 Cal Finishes Third at Championships

V8+, 3V8+ Place Third In Grand Finals

WEST WINDSOR, N.J. – After putting itself in a position to come away with a third straight national title, the No. 4 California men's rowing team finished in third place at the National Championships at Mercer Lake Sunday afternoon for its 40th top-three overall finish in program history. Both the V8+ and 3V8+ placed third in their respective grand finals. This marked the 13th and fourth all-time bronze medals for the V8+ and 3V8+ respectively. The Golden Bears totaled 260 points to finish third in the James Ten Eyck Trophy standings after entering the last race of the day in the fourth spot. "These were not the results we were hoping for but I'm really proud of what the team has been able to do over the course of the season and the speed that we were able to show in the lead up to this," Cal head coach Scott Frandsen said. "I'm proud of the effort that the guys put up there today. I thought the 3V raced really well and I think the JV had a better race in them and the varsity was close. Today was a good statement of the competitiveness of men's rowing in that you need to be on your game and have your best race to be able to achieve those goals. Those goals are always consistently very high for our program. That's always the challenge and a challenge we want - to set our sights on winning every year." In Cal's first race of the day for the 3V8+ title, Cal and Washington got out in front of the pack early with the Huskies taking a slight lead after 20 strokes. Through 500 meters, Cal sat in second position even with Princeton and a half boat behind Washington. At the midway point the Bears and Tigers were in a battle for second position and sat a boat-length behind the Huskies. Cal and Princeton both exchanged surges in the last 500 meters with neither being able to take a decisive lead and it was the Tigers who edged out the Bears by less than a tenth of a second in the last few strokes for second place with the Bears coming in third in a time of 5:41.560. In the race for the 2V8+ title, Cal, Harvard and Washington formed the early lead pack. The Bears and Huskies edged out in front of the pack 250 meters in, but Washington continued to push and took a boat-length lead over Cal by the 500-meter mark with Princeton just a few seats behind in third. The Tigers surged and overtook the Bears by a few seats at the midway point. Over the third 500 meters Dartmouth made a move and pulled even with Cal for third position. In the closing 500 meters, Cal was battling with Dartmouth for third place but ultimately the Big Green edged out the Bears for the bronze medal.

In the final race of the day for the V8+ title and IRA championship, Cal and Washington got out ahead of the pack early in the race, but Harvard crept up to take second position ahead of Cal at the 500-meter mark by four seats. By the midway point, Cal was in a battle for third with Yale who pulled nearly even. The Bears were able to make a move and take command of the third position over the second half of the race to take bronze in a time of 5:41.560. Sunday Results V8+ 1. Washington - 05:27.233 2. Harvard - 05:28.976 3. California - 05:30.446 4. Princeton- 05:34.469 5. Yale - 05:34.729 6. Syracuse - 05:37.749 2V8+ 1. Washington - 05:34.317 2. Princeton - 05:36.920 3. Dartmouth - 05:39.807 4. California - 05:41.710 5. Harvard - 05:44.960 6. Brown - 05:50.137 3V8+ 1. Washington - 05:39.028 2. Princeton - 05:41.477 3. California - 05:41.560 4. Brown - 05:48.615 5. Dartmouth - 05:48.972 6. Harvard - 05:51.682

#Go Bears!#UC Berkeley #Roll on you Bears #Cal sports #This Is Bear Territory #California athletics #Go Bears #Cal Crew

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darerendevil · 9 months ago

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For archive purposes: March, 2013

If he has one driving goal in his film career, it's to participate in a project that leaves a lasting impression. "Ultimately what I'd like to do is leave behind a movie that's a piece of art," he says. "One movie out of however many I make that influences or has an impact or someone holds up in the future as a piece of art. That's the ultimate goal."

Chaos. Blackness. Then a pair of inconceivably blue eyes burst open, filling the screen. This is how most audiences were first introduced to Cillian Murphy three and a half years ago, when the Irish actor erupted onto the scene in the post-apocalyptic sleeper hit 28 Days Later. As Jim, a bike courier who awakens from a coma after London has been wiped out by a deadly infection, the largely unknown 24-year-old found himself as the lead in Danny Boyle's poetically terrifying film. As the audience surrogate, Murphy's face telegraphed all the confusion, innocence, and wonder we would expect of a hero-in-the-making who is realizing he might very well be the last man on earth.

After the success of 28 Days Later, a career in Hollywood films was inevitable. It's not just that Murphy looks as though his face were sculpted from marble, topped off by those aforementioned stunning eyes. As he showed in 28 Days Later and subsequent films such as Girl With a Pearl Earring and Intermission, he was a chameleonic performer, a character actor trapped in a leading man's bone structure. In 2005 he found himself starring in two blockbuster hits in which he played characters that couldn't be further from the well-intentioned Jim. As Dr. Jonathan Crane, aka Scarecrow, Murphy's silky smooth calmness was put to villainous use in Batman Begins. He followed that with a turn as Jackson Rippner, a mysterious stranger who traps hotel manager Lisa (Rachel McAdams) into an assassination plot in Wes Craven's Red Eye. While both films were unabashedly popcorn entertainment, each transcended its genre with stellar casting and sharp direction.

After these back-to-back successes, it seemed there was only one logical step for the newly minted star. So Murphy shaved his legs, plucked his eyebrows, and gamely jumped into the role of Patrick "Kitten" Braden, the transvestite orphan whose adventures with cabaret singing, prostitution, and the Irish Republican Army don't even begin to sum up the strange and delightful world of Neil Jordan's Breakfast on Pluto (opening in limited release Nov. 18). Written by Jordan and Patrick McCabe, on whose 1998 novel the film is based, Pluto is a loopy journey featuring Murphy in a bravura performance as the needy heroine who spends her life looking since he first auditioned for it four years ago. Jordan couldn't get the film financed at the time, but he never forgot Murphy--largely because the actor wouldn't let him. "I did a test with Cillian and several young Irish actors to see: Was the role even playable?" says Jordan. "Cillian was not well-known at all but gave a blistering performance. Problem was, after that he would never let it go. Every time we met, he'd ask, 'When do we start shooting?'"

Murphy got his wish in 2004, when Jordan got the money and jumped right into a 10-week shoot. It was sudden, but Murphy took it in stride.

Early Stages

In person Murphy speaks softly, his voice heavy with his native accent--one that has rarely been captured on film, as he frequently adopts English or American accents for roles. He speaks in simple, sparse terms of how he came to acting.Born and raised in Cork, Ireland, Murphy grew up on a diet of American TV and was interested in movies and music. At age 20 he was playing in a band, and he saw a play at the Corcadorca Theatre Company in his hometown. "I went up and knocked on the door of the theatre and said, 'Listen, if you have any parts in any plays coming up, let me know,'" he recalls. "And the guy said, 'There's this play called Disco Pigs. Come in for an audition.' I went in and got the part, and that was it, really."He may make landing the job sound easy, but anyone who saw the 2001 film adaptation of Disco Pigs can attest it was more than luck that got Murphy cast. As the violent and unpredictable Pig, pathologically devoted to his lifelong friend Runt, Murphy is a force of nature we can't take our eyes off of. Still, he admits that at times he felt out of his league. "I was going to go back to playing in a band; I was just acting as a laugh," he says. "But it didn't transpire like that. I don't think I realized it was a career until recently. But I don't enjoy anything as much as I enjoy acting. I never got a kick out of anything as much as I get out of acting when it's going well. You build up a real hunger for it."

For the next three years he worked in theatre, learning on the job while performing in such classics as The Seagull and Much Ado About Nothing. "I think that's the best place to learn as actor," he observes. "I consider it my training ground. I was very lucky to work with a lot of great directors and great plays. I went from smaller parts onstage to bigger parts onstage, then smaller parts in movies to bigger parts in movies. It was a very organic way to do it."

He landed his first agent, Richard Cook at The Lisa Richards Agency, when Cook saw him onstage in Disco Pigs; he remains with the agent to this day. Murphy has a Los Angeles agent, Darren Statt at United Talent Agency, whom he says "saw an audition tape I did for a movie and took me on based on that--which is actually quite unusual." He also has a London representative, Lou Coulson with The Lou Coulson Agency. As Murphy began landing various film and television roles, he had to adjust to auditioning regularly. "It took me awhile to realize auditioning is a different skill than acting," he says. "They're entirely unrelated skills. Just because you're a good actor, it doesn't mean you'll be good in a room with a director. I had to learn to audition."

It was the film version of Disco Pigs that caught Boyle's eye when he was casting for 28 Days Later. Surprisingly, Murphy's newcomer status worked in his favor. "We thought that it was more appropriate for the film that it should not be a star vehicle," says Boyle. "Rather, it should be a community of people we cast as equals." Boyle also felt Murphy displayed an innocent quality that would endear Jim to the audience. "The feeling of a child who is forced to become a man and, by the end of the film, be almost primal, I thought Cillian had that," Boyle reasons. Murphy rewarded his director's trust with a searing performance, taking Jim from wide-eyed youth to fierce protector in the space of 108 minutes. "I've been lucky to have support from great people like Danny," Murphy raves. "He let me carry 28 Days Later. But, ultimately, if you don't produce in the work, you won't get hired. You're only as good as your last job."

Armed with this knowledge, Murphy was selective about his projects after the success of 28 Days Later. "I'm aware of the system and how certain doors open when a film does well," he says. "A lot more people started taking meetings with me. And people began to pronounce my name correctly, that's always been a good yardstick for me." Although most people probably know by now, the correct pronunciation is "kill-ee-un."

Being Bad

Murphy claims he would have been perfectly happy to continue doing theatre the rest of his life; indeed, when he speaks of performing onstage, it's with a low-key but palpable passion. But he is also practical. "If there's an opportunity to do a good film with a good director, you've got to take it," he muses. "You'd be foolish not to. And if a bit of momentum builds up, you have to stick with it."

He has collaborated with some of the most prestigious directors working today, from Anthony Minghella in Cold Mountain to Ken Loach in the upcoming The Wind That Shakes the Barley. Yet he insists there's no deliberate strategy to his career. "I want to do different things and keep myself interested and keep improving," he remarks. "Wherever that takes me, I don't know. There's no plan--it's all out of your control anyway. The only thing I've ever insisted upon is diversity. Every role you take, you have to be afraid that you can't do it. Otherwise, there's no point in doing it." The primary factors that draw him to projects are the script and the director. "It's got to be a good script to start with," he says. "If it's a bad director, they can make the script mediocre pretty fast. But the combination of a good director and good script--that's the ultimate. And I can't believe how lucky I've been to have both."

When it came to auditioning for Batman Begins, Murphy didn't look at it as a blockbuster franchise that would raise his salary quote--he saw it as an opportunity to play a well-crafted character and work with director Christopher Nolan. "I would do any movie with Chris Nolan," he says. "It was a good script and a great part. I had so much fun." Nolan originally brought Murphy in to read for the role of Bruce Wayne/Batman. "I saw Cillian in 28 Days Later and was struck by the extraordinary intensity of his performance," says Nolan. "We tested him for Batman, and his presence just leapt off the screen. Everyone who saw it got very excited about the idea of casting him as Scarecrow. He has a fantastic ability to project interior passions with a power that can be by turns either chilling or seductive."

As Scarecrow, Murphy proved a hero is only as interesting as his nemesis, and his cool confidence was enthralling--just listen to the way he draws out "Batman" as two words in a cruel taunt.He brought that same dangerous appeal to Red Eye, a film in which his Rippner is more or less played as the romantic leading man--until he reveals he's a stone-cold killer. "I was very careful not to come at that character as the bad guy," he explains.

"He's been chosen for his job because he has access to this charisma and approachability. For him to be revealed too quickly would be pointless." Murphy also enjoyed being the heavy, a nice respite from saving the world in 28 Days Later. "It's fun to be the bad guy," he notes. "I thought it was a great role. Just because he turned out to be bad, it didn't represent any more or less fun than playing [Jim]. It's still a great range there to convey."Murphy also wants to make it clear that playing back-to-back villains was a fluke of distribution. "I did get very frustrated with the question, 'Why are you playing the bad guys this summer?'" he says. "I guess it's an easy in. I've made 10 feature films and played two bad guys. I think anyone who's seen the rest of my work will realize that's not what I specialize in at all."

Men Are From Pluto

If Murphy had any concerns about being pigeonholed, he certainly confounded expectations as Kitten in Breakfast on Pluto. "That role was a gift," he insists. "To work with Neil, who's a living legend--he's amazing." To prepare for the role, Murphy reread the book and talked extensively with McCabe, who was frequently on-set. "The book is a masterpiece but not always conducive to the screen, and the film has to be cinematic," Murphy notes. "I used a lot of the episodes in the book that aren't in the movie as my own research." Aware that the role was "completely transformative," he also spent a lot of time getting down Kitten's gestures and movements. "It's a long process," he says. "The physical side wasn't too hard; that's just grooming, really. The clothes and hair and eyebrows--anybody can do that. It was getting the voice and the walk and the physicality." Murphy went so far as to hit London nightclubs in drag. "It's important to do that. How much of it you use or not in the end is irrelevant," he says. "It's just important to have a reference point."

While the sight of Murphy in skirts and wigs is frequently funny, his sensitive and sweet portrayal elevates the film and engages the audience in Kitten's struggles. He is boosted by a top-notch supporting cast that includes Stephen Rea as a sad-eyed suitor, his Batman co-star Liam Neeson as a priest, and his 28 Days Later co-star Brendan Gleeson as a drunken theme-park character. It's a giddy, charming work Murphy aptly describes as "an unexpected fairy-tale disco fantasy."Murphy says he can talk about Pluto "until the cows come home," a bold statement considering that he confesses to an aversion to interviews. "I don't particularly like interviews or having my picture taken," he says, somewhat apologetically. "I don't mind it as a character, just not as myself. I don't like the perceived celebrity of it. I'm not about to become a personality or go on talk shows to entertain people as me, as Cillian." He points out he has never done a talk show in his life--mention Regis and Kelly and he pauses for a moment before replying, "I don't know who those people are."Of course, with his profile on the rise, Murphy admits he has given serious thought to how to maintain a healthy career without having his private life exposed to the world. He even discussed the topic with Batman co-star Christian Bale, whom he praises as "the best Batman" and a dedicated actor. "I actually asked his advice because you don't see him in the papers," says Murphy. "He pretty much told me, 'Don't behave like a celebrity, and you won't get treated like one.' I guess if you don't go out to a lot of parties and fall down, people don't take photographs of you."

Accent on Talent

Murphy recently wrapped Sunshine, a sci-fi adventure that reunites him with director Boyle in which he is once again saving the world-this time from a dying sun. Surprisingly--considering that Boyle gave the actor his biggest break--he still had to audition for the role. "I kind of wanted to," he says with a shrug. "That's what we do; we're actors. I don't understand this thing about actors who won't read for parts. I wanted to show him I could do it. I'm playing an American, and the movies hadn't come out yet where I'm American, so I think he wanted to see me do it." Murphy notes that early in his career he encountered resistance when auditioning for American roles. "They would hear me speak and say, 'Jesus, there's no way,'" he recalls. "But once you do it well, people accept it. And after a while it becomes second nature. That's why I think actors should never be limited by their background. This is what we do: We dress up and put on voices. So people should never be afraid to cast someone because of their accent."

Murphy isn't sure what he'll do next. He mentions taking a break, having worked steadily for the last few years. He'd also love to get back to theatre and tackle some of the great roles. Point out that a website erroneously reported that he has played Hamlet and he seems wistful. "No, I wish. I'd love to," he says. "I hope they said I did a good job." He also

acknowledges the differences between film and the stage. "Obviously, it's different vocally. If you're playing to an auditorium of 1,100 people, you've got to magnify the performance," he says. "For me, film acting is when you can see what the actor's thinking. Theatre acting, you've got to get up to the gods and let them know what's going on." Murphy doesn't mind returning to small theatres-he might even prefer it. "Disco Pigs was always in tiny little sweatboxes," he notes. "As the play got more popular and moved to bigger houses, I think it lost some of its allure. I remember doing Disco Pigs in its first incarnation and turning and getting sweat all over the front row. It was so visceral and dirty and sweaty. Then, when you start playing to bigger auditoriums, it's not as sexy."

#Cillian Murphy #Interview

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daily-leoneed · 8 months ago

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Ichika’s Colorfes Story Analysis

To start of this blog’s analysis of each Leoni Colorfes card, we have to start with both the unit’s first member and the first one of the four to receive one. Hoshino Ichika’s Colorfes card released on October 1st, 2021 alongside Miku for Project SEKAI’s 1st Anniversary. The card is titled ‘The Starry Sky I Saw’.

How she sparked her fragment SEKAI

Ichika is having issues transferring her feelings into lyrics. After a practice session Saki asks her how she’s doing and after Ichika explains her dilemma the group starts talking about it. Miku says something about wanting to see some of her lyrics and Saki is ready to tell her. Somehow they end up talking about the guitarist when they were younger. Honami comments, ‘Back then, Ichika, you really just let your actions speak for themselves.’ Junior High changed them all, but Ichika feels like she’s lost all the traits from before then.

These words spark the fragment SEKAI to appear up on the school rooftop. Miku finds, leads, and accompanies Ichika.

Fragment SEKAI

The SEKAI features a very similar playground to the one Leoni use to frequently visit as children. The night sky directly resembles the night the girls watched the Leonids. Their character colors are present in the night sky.

We get a minor explanation about Fragment SEKAI’s from Miku

She doesn’t outright say it at first, but it’s quite easy for players to put two-and-two together that the ‘someone’ Miku talks about is Ichika. The feelings aren’t strong enough to create a whole SEKAI, but still forms a half-complete one. It’s interesting to think about in relation to characters whose feelings made a whole SEKAI on their own, yet also have a fragment SEKAI. However, this is a Leoni-focused blog, so I won’t be looking into that much further. The fact is, Ichika could create a whole new SEKAI if her feelings were stronger. I’m very excited to see how they handle this in the future with the next ColorFes rotation.

What exactly is the reason for this Fragment?

As stated before, Ichika sparked it by feeling like her past self is better in comparison to her present self. She knows those years in junior high changed her, but she only views that change in a negative light. While that is understandable, it causes her to ignore what she gained from surviving it. Each member of Leoni uses their past to strengthen themselves throughout the story, but at this point they only finished the first event rotation and their first appearance before an audience. They’ve recently changed the goal for Leoni, and so, haven’t started the development they get in their second, third, and fourth. And, to top it all off, Ichika had her event a month before her ColorFes was released. We didn’t see her next one till April of 2022, six months, and once again finished the event rotation. Apologies for the tangent, just something that caught my eye while looking over the event list.

What’s the change in her feelings?

After asking a few questions about the playground and that night with the meteor shower, Miku climbs to the top, right where Ichika sat when she was younger, and invites the guitarist to follow. This interaction follows after Miku asks how the view is.

Miku explains how though the park is different, it’s still holds the same special place in Ichika’s heart. Just like how they’ve all changed, they’re still Ichika, Saki, Honami, and Shiho. Personalities change, but they do not change who you are. While she does agree, Ichika stil, doesn’t feel certain.

‘You’re the most amazing person ever, Ichi!’ Saki says this in the cards first side story, and now Miku is using it to reassure Ichika of everything they’ve just discussed. After this, they return back to the School SEKAI. These words, have such meaning to her because they are from Saki. Those three mean so much to Ichika, and their words carry more than others. Even Miku couldn’t get her to realize her strengths until Saki’s statement was brought up. Leoni is a unit that have known each other the longest, most other units never meet until their main stories. That’s why childhood friends is talked about so much. It’s very important to how they interact and react to each other. They know more, have seen more, understand the suffering the others went through because it unfolded before their very eyes. Ichika especially. She watched them drift away, and helped piece the bonds back together with Saki’s help. Yet, she doesn’t see how much character a person needs to live through that experience and still strive to reforge that friendship. Miku does mention this, but only touches briefly on it. At the very end of the card story, Ichika thanks Miku.

And how does the vocaloid respond?

‘Great. I’ll be looking forward to seeing them, Ichika.

Mod Rant

I love everything about this card, from the story to the symbolism. This made me realize how amazing Ichika’s character is, and truly when I first fell in love with it. Many people tend to overlook her because Colorful Palette gives her lots of mascot privileges. I use to dislike her for stealing all the lines, but she is the band’s lead singer, so they have every reason to give her more. The story beautifully ties in her doubts and her junior high trauma. She overcomes it, and becomes more confident in the abilities she possesses. We also get to see a good example of a vocaloid giving subtle hints and allowing the character to piece together the solution. The card’s art is meant to symbolize (very much my opinion) Ichika’s growing confidence. She’s sat right in front of a paint splatter, causing her to stand out from the white background. Painting and writing lyrics are similar in ways. Both are meant to convey a feeling or story by the artist, and Ichika has made a mark on the room. Just like how her lyrics tend to leave a mark on a person, she is conveying her emotions and smiling about it. She looks proud of her actions, holding onto the paint bucket as if to let viewers know it was Ichika, not someone else. The hairstyle could even add onto this. Some cut their hair to symbolize a new start, or show that they’re confident in their own actions. Kohane is an example of this, and so is Ichika in this card. One last thing before I end my rant. If you look closely, you’ll notice her guitar in the background, but it’s blank. This could symbolize how music is the blank canvas she paints upon (that wording sound familiar?), and she’s left it untouched for now. Maybe it’s linked to her struggles in conveying her message or even how she’s starting a new chapter in her musical path. All I can do is hypothesize about it, but it’s just something to think about.

You’ve reached the end! Congratulations, I hope this helped you to understand Ichika better or just brought her into a new light. I may do Honami or Shiho before Saki, but that may be a while. Depends on my motivation sadly. It would be amazing if I could just sit and write paragraphs about Leoni. I’m always open to dissecting cards, so if you have one you’d like me to do, please let me know! Events are welcomed too, but that may take longer and multiple posts. Anyways, that’s it from me! Thank you so much for reading my analysis and stay tuned for more.

#characterposting #leoneedanalysis #leo need #leoneed #ichika hoshino #anaylsis #story analysis #art analysis

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sergeifyodorov · 1 year ago

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Game Results!!

Right before the playoffs started, I made a Google form asking people to guess the results. To my surprise, I got over a hundred responses! Here they are, summarized. Congratulations to the winners:

@firstliner with 17 points and 12 correct answers

@kaprizovv with 17 points and 10 correct answers

@zukirillo with 16 points

Here's a graph of point distribution:

Let's get to the nitty gritty:

Let’s start with the individual question results.

Hopefully the way I phrased each question in this chart makes sense. Let’s talk about some of the things that surprised me! First, I want to note that a lot of these questions -- most of the ones where I asked you to guess a number -- also gave points for being very close. In the chart above, I only put in the actual correct answers; for example, those who picked 50 games exactly to be played in round one.

A surprising amount of you -- nearly a fifth -- picked Florida to beat Boston in the first round. Definitely not what I would have thought! But then again, they actually did end up doing it, so that all in all is a bit wild. An equally surprising amount of you picked Toronto to break the Curse. Or at least, that one specific curse. I admire the optimism! Florida ruins everyone’s plans again, though.

Not very many people guessed the number of saves made very closely. The 63-save performance was, in fact, Bobrovsky against Carolina in that absolute marathon game one of the Eastern Conference final. Most people seriously underestimated the number of saves you can make in a playoff game -- I guess sometimes we forget playoff overtime format, which can jack up numbers to stuff you wouldn’t usually see in the regular season (the second-place this playoffs is a tie between another Bobrovsky performance in the game that eliminated Toronto, and an Oettinger one against Minnesota, both of which went to overtime). Although it is worth pointing out Juuse Saros made sixty-four saves in a game and won earlier this year… also against Carolina, the most shot-happy offence in the league.

And I’m also surprised that only one person guessed Vegas would win the Cup! In fact, literally nobody guessed Florida either, so safe to say this Cup Final was a bit of an upset.

As for the answers that were given, here’s a quick list of observations:

For the DAL-MIN question (pick a player on each team. If either of them scores the most goals in the series, you get points), Robertson/Kaprizov was by far the most chosen answer. Sixty-three of you picked it -- that’s more than half!

Much like Robertson/Kaprizov was the overwhelming answer only to be wrong, most people picked the New Jersey Devils to be the newcomer that lasted the longest. (I picked “longest lasting” based on “most wins,” and since Seattle lasted to seven in round two while New Jersey was out in five, Seattle made it further.)

90 people picked Vegas to beat Winnipeg in the first section of the game, while 84 people picked Vegas to beat Winnipeg in the second section of the game.

Like the chart above says, the closest guess to the longest game question was within 9 seconds (it was 3OT+19:56).

Boston was the most popular Cup choice, with 29 votes. After that were Colorado and Edmonton with 16 and 15 respectively, then the Leafs with 12 and the Stars with 10.

I’m doing a whole separate section for the player choices at the very end, because that’s a bit more involved. There were three questions: which player would lead the playoffs in scoring by the end of the Conference Finals, which goalie would have the best sv% by the end of the Conference Finals, and which player would win the Conn Smythe (I gave you guys three chances for this one.)

The leading scorer was Hintz, with 24 points. Only one person actually chose Hintz -- which, he definitely wouldn’t be my first choice either! I mean, I love that little blonde freak, but who would have known he’d have put on a Smythe-worthy performance (with the noted caveat of, you know, not actually doing the thing)? But who was chosen?

Nine players got one vote: Matty Beniers (SEA), Roope Hintz (DAL), Kirill Kaprizov (MIN), Mitch Marner (TOR), Jared McCann (SEA), Martin Necas (CAR), Brock Nelson (NYI), Devin Shore (EDM), and Matthew Tkachuk (FLA.) I can only assume Devin Shore was a joke.

Auston Matthews got two votes.

Jack Hughes got four votes.

Jason Robertson got five votes.

Leon Draisaitl got six votes.

Mikko Rantanen got seven votes.

Nathan MacKinnon got eight votes.

David Pastrnak got twenty-five votes.

And, of course, Connor McDavid got the most, with thirty-eight votes.

Nobody guessed Jack Campbell was going to have the best save percentage -- of course, he mostly got sheltered minutes, when the game was already lost and neither team was really pushing. Here’s who did get voted for:

Martin Jones (SEA) got one vote.

Stuart Skinner, Andrei Vasilevskiy, and Connor Hellebuyck got two votes each.

Freddie Andersen, Marc-Andre Fleury, Jeremy Swayman, and Vitek Vanecek got three votes each.

Igor Shesterkin got four votes.

Filip Gustavsson and Ilya Samsonov got five votes each.

Alexandar Georgiev got six votes.

Ilya Sorokin got eleven votes.

Jake Oettinger got twenty-two votes.

Linus Ullmark finished up his Vezina-calibre season by winning the dubious honour of Most Votes In This Tumblr Poll, with thirty-three. A surprisingly similar margin to Connor McDavid.

Okay, now the Smythe. I asked everyone to submit three choices for this question, so there are a lot more results for this one!

Twenty-three players each got one vote: Connor Clifton and Hampus Lindholm (BOS), Brent Burns (CAR), Erik Johnson, Alexandar Georgiev, and Valeri Nichushkin (COL), Joe Pavelski and Tyler Seguin (DAL), Ryan Nugent-Hopkins (EDM), Sasha Barkov (FLA), Anze Kopitar (LAK), Filip Gustavsson (MIN), Nico Hischier and Luke Hughes (NJD), Casey Cizikas and Anders Lee (NYI), Adam Fox (NYR), Andrei Vasilevskiy (TBL), Justin Holl (?), Calle Jarnkrok, Ilya Samsonov, and Willy Nylander (TOR). That’s a lot!

Ten players each got two votes: Jeremy Swayman (BOS), Martin Necas (CAR), Matt Boldy and Marc-Andre Fleury (MIN), Brock Nelson and Ilya Sorokin (NYI), Igor Shesterkin (NYR), Matty Beniers and Vince Dunn (SEA), and Connor Hellebuyck (WPG).

Two players each got three votes: Brad Marchand and Mika Zibanejad.

Two players each got four votes: Miro Heiskanen and Auston Matthews.

Sebastian Aho got five votes. Not sure which one, though.

Cale Makar got six votes.

Kirill Kaprizov got eight votes.

Matthew Tkachuk got nine votes.

Jake Oettinger got ten votes.

Jason Robertson got eleven votes. Yes, it is weird how they keep getting one more vote than the last.

Leon Draisaitl got twelve votes.

Jack Hughes got fourteen votes. Whenever someone put “Hughes” without specifying the brother, I assumed they put Jack, considering that he’s more well-known than Luke and Quinn isn’t in the playoffs.

Patrice Bergeron got fifteen votes.

Mitch Marner got sixteen votes.

Mikko Rantanen got seventeen votes.

Linus Ullmark got twenty-three votes.

Nathan MacKinnon got thirty votes.

David Pastrnak got forty votes.

Connor McDavid got forty-three votes. First in our hearts <3

Anyway! Hope you enjoyed that, and congratulations to the winners! If you have feedback, questions, or want your specific results, please send in an ask :) Let’s hope for a nice and peaceful offseason.

#nhl playoffs 2023 #i had fun and i wasn't expecting that many responses wow #for the record i also put in my guesses: i was solidly mid #also lowkey shoutout to isozyme for guessing what Was the longest game (dal/min game...1?) until the ecf to the EXACT second

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diedinacrash · 1 year ago

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So I tried to translate the new interview with Dominik. Here's part 1 for all of you out there

I: Everything's good if the end is good?

D: Usually it is.

I: It was very interesting to watch you after the final whistle. Can you remember how you were feeling? What were you thinking?

D:Not only after the final whistle, I'm not sure when we got the second goal, in the 75 minute I think. about what went through me in the last twenty minutes…a lot of things. To be honest, I never give up and trust 120 percent in myself and my team but in that moment when I was standing at the kick-off that 120 percent lowered 119, and for a very little bit I lost my faith. But I knew it couldn’t end like this. So…as it was visible in the last twenty minutes, I tried to play like it was only the start of the match, I tried to keep every ball, I tried, like the others, to win as many one on one fights we could, I tried all types of the free kicks and the corner kicks. And we did have some chances afterwards, unfortunately we couldn’t score from the ones prior to the last goal. But just like you said, everything is good if the end is good.

I: Do you know why that 1 percent was missing?

D: Because, because everything started so well, we started the game so well, because in the first fifteen-twenty minutes they had no chance. We are leading 1-0, they get a red card, we are one man up, then they get a second red, which I think was 50-50, if you give it you give it, if you don’t you don’t, it’s up to the referee. But it was all in our hands, maybe it was the problem that we calmed down, that we can handle it from here. And of course we have a clever Milos over here, he had been told in three languages to please play clever and don’t do anything stupid…57th minute, red card. I was like okay, it’s not a problem, it’s like the game would start now, becaus we had the same number of players. But we are not allowed to let them come onto us, get into or half, the lad ran through four of our men, does the solo of his life, and gets a penalty. Which, to be honest, he ran into Szalai…and they didn't look it back. Anyways, I told the ref at the beginning that I won’t speak, because I already have two yellows, so even if there is a doubtful situation, I leave from there. It’s visible at the penalty that I didn’t even go there, because I really want to play against Montenegro, no matter how it ends. And as the lad scored it I was just staring ahead, after the match I spoke with Lang, and he said the same that he never saw me so lost in the darkness. From an easy match, that could’ve ended pretty fast, we made something like this. But after a minute I clicked back, that was enough to get myself together, then I continued to do my job.

I: Prior to the Lithuanian match, or I rather say after defeating the Serbs there was a chance that the team could be drawn from the first pot. How much attention did you pay to this before the game against Lithuania? And there was still a chance before the Bulgarian game, that you could get into the top six, or in the top five plus the host country?

D: To be honest, yes we did think about it a little bit, but the main goal was to qualify. For the past it was to play in the play-offs and qualify from there, and now thinking about the first pot, it’s a bit of a big jump I think. So, yeah, of course it would’ve been great but this is how it happened, we’re going to the Euros.

I: How stressed were you at the end of the Bulgarian game that the one against Montenegro might be a one on one, to decide who qualifies? Did you think about it in the last twenty minutes?

D: Yes, in those two minutes while I was waiting for the game to continue after the goal, everything went through my mind. In head I was already getting ready for the Montenegro game, but after those two minutes I was like, there won't be a one on one game, we’ll score one now.

I: It’s pretty interesting, on the internet you can find recordings, I’ll show it a bit later, about the situation before the first goal. Ádám Martin told it refined, in the game a bit less refined, where to kick the free kick, you basically kicked him in the head, because you are able to do that. (He means he has so good ball control that he could place it right where his teammate wanted, I’m not sure if it was understandable from the mirror translation) At the second free kick, from what the goal happened, did you say anything to anyone about where will you put it, and asked them to be there or was it totally different?

D: No, no. I was thinking a lot, seeing how much time was remaining, and I was thinking I should aim for the goal, but I knew that’s too much of a risk. It was around 40 meters I think, I thought about my goal against Turkey, and about taking the risk. It’s either a very big goal or it goes so far they’ll have to search for the ball for two days. Then I started to think what would be better, if no one touched a ball, if someone barely did, if it went on from us or from them, it’s all the same as long as it’s a goal. And you can see it on the video. I stopped where I was, in total shock, because I didn’t know what was going on, was it a foul, was it an off-side, did something happen. So I couldn’t really celebrate because I was frozen in place, later I was a little happy.

I: A little bypass, but I’m very curious, because it’s a big talking point in England. How did VAR change you, players, in these types of situations?

D: Very much, if there’s no VAR I’ll run out of the world. No, but really, because only then do I know that it was really a goal. But the referee whistled, and did one like this (he raised his arm and pointed somewhere), which could mean a free kick outside or that he points at the middle for a kick-off. But yeah, there I said we got it.

I: You have an interview, we could see it on the internet, that you gave to a Bulgarian college, he only asked if you could celebrate, or if you did celebrate. You seemed to be very tense there as well. Were you, or did you just have enough and wanted to go home?

D: No, I was tense, and I also had enough, and it was good to release the steam a bit in there. And honestly, how can you ask something like that…the answer was easy, we did celebrate, but normally you don’t ask something like this from someone who qualified for the Euros.

I: Yeah, I agree absolutely. And it’s really something that never happened in our lifetime before, that you qualify as number one from the group. But there is still a match for the first place. How hard is it to concentrate on it, that you should get first place, how important is it to be first in the group? Is it important because of what pot the team will get into, or there’s really no difference between the second and the third pot. Or do you want to play great for the fans?

D: It’s a good question, because again, this must be achieved. I…I don’t think it’s evident, so we achieved a level, that as I said it before, is thanks to us. And we placed expectations high, and we talked about it today that we are the team with the longest undefeated run in the world, so it’s very good being in this, and continuing it. But I don’t know after how many years, or if we ever before qualified for the Euros from our group…I’m not sure if I remember correctly.

I: For example, the last time we had an undefeated year was 1976.

D: So yeah, we did achieve something that hasn’t been since 1976, as you say. And everyone must be proud of this really, because everyone put so much effort into it, the players, the staff members, the physiotherapists, the coach, everyone. No one is here because...or we are not where we are because of me or because of the other player or because of the gaffer, but because we are together in this and everyone knows their role in this. I don’t think it’s evident that we have to qualify as number one, of course as you said, it would be good, we are on it and the fans also deserve a match like that to finish this year with.

I: Are you happy that that game will be held on Sunday afternoon, and you’ll have a bit of time, not to rest, but to regenerate before the derby against City?

D: I’m happy, but if it was on Tuesday, that wouldn’t be a problem either, I could rest enough, I'm still young. But it’s good that the game is at three o’clock, probably more kids could come to the game because it’s not so late, so I’m happy. The atmosphere will be very good, I hope at least.

I: You mentioned that you placed the expectations high for yourselves, and I totally agree. It’s not coming from Hungarian football, for example that you have to fight for a group win in the National Leagues. Or now, that you could qualify as number one from the group to the Euros while the Italians fight and the Polish are suffering, and Ireland can’t even qualify at this point. How hard is it to deal with the growing popularity, that no question exists currently, because twice as many people sit down to watch a National team game than they did three or five years ago.

D: It's not pressure, or at least everyone deals with it differently…

I: How do you?

D: For me it’s not pressure. Really there’s only a few things that can put me under pressure, for example this game succeeded in this. But really, I know what I’m capable of, what my team is capable of and I think everyone knows about themselves what they can or can’t do. And that we achieved this level is only thanks to us. As I said, I love to be here, I would spend all my days here if I could. I never laugh as much as I do here at anywhere else, and in addition we are successful, so it’s amazing.

#dominik szoboszlai #hungarian national team #szoboszlai interview #my english is shit #don't kill me for it please #part 2 in the making

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wolframtheregulator · 6 months ago

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Your LARP guild setup sounds cool as hell! What kind of stuff do you get up to? I bet you have a TON of great stories!

So you wanna hear a story, eh? Well I’ve got plenty, though I’ll limit myself to one for now… I think I’ll start with a fairly innocuous one.

Pest Control

All through the weekend two of my younger recruits were trying to do a mod involving a local mad scientist who has been creating chimeras. Ya see we didn’t really see him as a threat, more just a potential asset, so our youngest member, a shaman sorcerer strigoi Prospect (lowest rank), became his apprentice. The goal was for them to learn the art of chimeramancy and start using it on the guild to improve our abilities. I’m also half raccoon so there’s not really a moral dilemma for me and I think it could be connected to the origin of my species.

The first mission they received was to capture a list of animals to be experimented on.

Four frogs

Two turtles

Two foxes

A chicken

The Prospect then was given help from a Conscript (foot soldier) who was a fey Druid assassin. The two of them spent their free time during the event trying to find any of the animals, but by early Sunday morning they had not been successful. So after all the dangers of the weekend they brought this list to me and I started sending out message arrows.

The first one was to an NPC contact I had met earlier in the event by pure chance while we were hunting a bounty in the pastoral outskirts of Stonebridge. They received a simple message from me:

“Greetings my guild the Regulators assisted you earlier this weekend, as previously mentioned we also handle pest control and are curious if you know of any people locally who have mentioned having a fox problem.

-Marshal Wolfram of The Regulators”

Soon we received a tired and drunken reply informing us of a woman whose chicken farm has been recently attacked by something, probably foxes. At that point it was as simple as sending out another message arrow to the potential client that included a quote on the job and an eta. She was concerned that we were up so late, but appreciated the help. After a brief journey to her farm our fae and strigoi would greet here while the rest of us began searching for clues.

Our party consisted of:

Me (Druid warrior)

Quatermaster Artisan

A conscript

Two prospects

Upon investigation it would seem that something bigger than an ordinary fox was killing these chickens. It had to be at least double the size. After a quick regroup we began following the faint blood trail I picked up around the coup. Eventually it would fade in the woods, but we would find another splatter of blood. This time we weren’t sure what it was at first because it was dark, after a quick taste test I confirmed it to be fresh squirrel blood. The chase continued till the land began to change, more marsh like and gnarled with a pungent smell of urine and death. This terrain lead us to a mass of briars and thorns, a wall of flora stretching to either side. At this point we knew we had found its den and split into two groups. Me and the strigoi took one side while the Quatermaster, the fae, and the other prospect (a paladin warrior human) took to the other side.

After a few minutes of walking we heard a rustling in the den, the sorcerer prepared a spell as I braced my club. Then a large claw pounced out of the bramble swiping at us, but being deflected. The beast hiding within refused to show itself without striking a lethal blow, so we decided to no risk our lives and to instead fall back and regroup with the rest of the team. Returning to the rally point we made small talk and waited. Several minutes passed and the quartermaster and his entourage had not yet returned. We joked about them running into trouble and didn’t think too much of it.

Following some distant shouting team two returned bloodied and dragging what I first believed to be a large wolf with them. Upon further investigation we would determine it to be a dire fox… a slain dire fox. The Quatermaster would later regale me with an explanation of his choice to stay and fight the animal and how they all almost died had it not been for the Quatermaster’s surplus of throwable gasses and the paladin’s use as a meat shield dueling it and even parrying a potentially lethal blow.

After I entangled it in roots our sorcerer used a restoration spell to heal its wounds and save its life. This also woke it back up and it began thrashing.

“I’m so sorry”

Using my club I rendered the animal unconscious. After this we tied it up and I began to drag it back to claim our award: a single chicken (with cage). My fellow druid would administer care to the fox as we returned to prevent it from bleeding to death before we could return. Once we made it back to base camp we placed it behind a wizard lock and restored it to health. Then while it was trapped we wandered down to the lake and spent like 30 minutes catching frogs and turtles. After that we sent the doctor a message arrow and he sent a giant chimera basilisk thing that turned our prizes to stone and took the assistant with him. Flying into the night.

#larp character #larp #fantasy larp #dnd #rpg

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unitedbydevils · 1 year ago

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Match Review: Bayern München 4-3 Manchester United

Lets be honest, reds. Defeat was almost certainly on the cards and a 1-goal deficit is perhaps a best case scenario.

In classic Ten Hag Era fashion, United started off looking competitive. We were more patient than against Brighton and spent good spells in Bayern's half, but that... didn't last [see below]

Beleaguered goalkeeper Andre Onana conceded what can only be described as a howler - on the back of a stream of constant criticism since the start of the season. An easy shot going in? Why does that seem familiar? Oh yeah, De Gea.

Kudos to Onana though. He actively requested to speak to the press post-match to apologise for his mistake, citing a good team performance and his failure as the reason for a missed result. I think he's wrong on that count - it was a team failing - but the humility to apologise and be accountable is an admirable trait.

Just four minutes later came Bayern's second goal; a well worked play around our box that was SO similar to goals scored by Brighton and Arsenal that either Lindelof/Casemiro aren't doing their jobs OR the coaching staff need to fix something in training because that was predictable and basic.

Despite limited service, Rasmus Hojlund was one of two (maybe three) bright sparks in United's performance. The Champions League debutant (we don't count an Atalanta qualifier) scored from a rare Marcus Rashford pass to bring the score back to 2-1.

Optimism suddenly. Energy. Vitality. Desire. United woke up! And then the Christian Eriksen/Casemiro pivot was bypassed yet again, Munich put it on United, and Eriksen conceded a silly but unfortunate handball - which led to a Harry Kane penalty and a 3-1 lead.

United never looked like the better team after the first 10 minutes, nor competitive after the first 20, but credit to the likes of Reguilon (who put in a big shift) and Pellistri (perhaps his first United start? away at Bayern?) for their determination and work rate through the match. Basic things, but if others aren't doing it it's remiss not to credit them.

Manchester United hung on in but freshly deflated didn't look like a renewed threat. Despite this, we some how scored the most scuffed goal from Casemiro. 3-2, game back on, right?

Wrong. Bayern push again and bang in a tidy 4th. Depression. But wait, then United run up the other end, final minute, and Bruno puts in a peach of a free kick for Casemiro to head home. 4-3, with 10 seconds of play left.

To the neutral, this was an interesting game, but it wasn't a good match. Had Bayern been in any semblance of form they could have snotted United 6 or 7 nil. That said, had United not had so many injuries and also been in form... I reckon we could have won. Were both teams in form then it would really have been a classic ECL clash. This is the nature of football. Shit happens, teams adapt.

There were few positives for United to draw from that match, but there were things confirmed: Eriksen cannot do it in the big games anymore. Casemiro needs a rest. Martinez/Lindelof needs work. Dalot is lucky AWB is out injured. Rashford needs to stop sulking and pass more. McTominay needs a special 1 on 1 coach to teach him movement and positioning because the man is allergic to receiving a pass.

The good news is that Mount, Varane, Amrabat and Mainoo are all close to a return. Will any be back for Burnley? We'll see, but that's the new focus and a must-win - potentially even a relegation six-pointer based on current form... jesus christ.

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folliesandfolderols · 9 months ago

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Writing prompts days 35, 36

From this prompt list. If you've read this far, I'm not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn't written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here

Days 32-34 here

***

44. "You're really messing with my head here."

***

A week later, Tim remembered to check the scheduling program and tweak the frequency of assignments for Damian. When he reviewed the results a week after that, he was half-surprised, half-resigned to see that Damian had manually revised his availability to be more frequent than ever. Oh, well. His work wasn’t noticeably suffering on either the civilian or vigilante front, so Tim supposed he didn’t have a right to talk to him about it.

He did switch things up a little, just to stretch out of his usual patrol territory and keep from getting bored. Damian somehow always being on the opposite end of the city wasn’t an intentional side effect, but given the givens of their hook-ups, it probably wasn’t a bad thing either.

A month after the last time they slept together, Tim’s phone buzzed at 2 AM with a message from Damian. Are you at home? I want to discuss some new information on the case with you.

Tim, busy putting together a spreadsheet comparing weapons distribution epicenters in various cities with local businesses that had suspiciously healthy bottom lines, frowned at the text. just send it over i’m busy working on another lead rn

No answer for five minutes, so he followed up with and we can text about it then if its urgent

Another five minutes, and he had nearly forgotten they’d begun the conversation, but then his phone vibrated again. Very well. I will share the file with you as soon as I’m sure it has all the relevant information.

Tim replied, thx, and got back to work.

They were able to turn the entire case over to the CBI within a few days after that, which was pretty satisfying.

A few weeks later, a sudden buzz of conversation that started at the elevators on the R&D floor of WE and slowly spread to Tim’s desk had him surreptitiously raising his head above the divider to behold Damian navigating the bullpen. Tim’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of him gliding through the cubicles. Even fluorescent lights couldn’t make Damian less handsome. He looked like a panther released into a lab rat’s maze.

Damian drew to a halt at his cubicle and said, “Drake. A moment?”

“I thought they were brothers,” Tim heard someone whisper. The person they were talking to shushed them.

“Sure,” he replied, and followed Damian to one of the rarely-used conference rooms.

Damian shut the door behind them and then frowned as he truly looked at Tim’s face for the first time. “The circles under your eyes are darker than usual.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Damian, it’s nice to see you too. The mission with Kon went great, and I just got back a couple nights ago. Appreciate you checking in.” He was tired, though, so he leaned on the table before asking, “Did you come all the way from Finance just to give me the bad news about my appearance?”

“No.” Damian shook his head. “Father and Todd had an argument last night after Father interfered with one of Todd’s interrogations. They both had already taken gunfire due to Father’s intervention. Accusations were exchanged, and now Father is, not to put too fine a point on it, sulking.”

Tim sighed and rubbed his temples, fighting off a sudden headache. Bruce and Jason acting like gigantic children together was hardly a reason to interrupt his work. “So what else is new?”

“Father had already planned a trip to a planet that will require four weeks of space travel to reach before their altercation. He’s not at his best after last night, either mentally or physically. I don’t believe Todd truly expected to affect him, but Father is self-flagellating nonetheless, not to mention the bullet wound.”

“Goddammit.” Tim rubbed his temples harder like the pressure would dam up the pain. As far as he could tell, in Jason’s brain, Bruce was Zeus and Satan and Orion all in one body—the notion of him being vulnerable didn’t seem to register. “Fucking great. Okay, what’s the plan? What do you want me to do?”

“Go talk to Father. Persuade him to put off the trip. If he believes you don’t know about his argument with Todd, he might be more susceptible to the suggestion.”

Tim slid off the table to his feet. “Is he in today?”

“No, he’s at the Manor. He’s planning to leave tonight, so speed is essential.”

“Got it.” Tim made to walk past Damian to the door, but Damian reached for his elbow in a light grip, pulling him closer.

“Drake. Are you truly well?” His eyes searched Tim’s face as if he were investigating a crime scene.

The Oud-Al-Janaid Damian always wore surrounded them both in a subtle cloud of fragrance. Tim swallowed, fighting down the Pavlovian urge to press his face to Damian’s neck, chasing the scent to its source. His dick started to take notice of the provocation.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” he remembered to say. “Just tired, is all. Nothing new about that.” He waited, but Damian didn’t move. “You need anything else?”

Damian didn’t start, but the way he dropped Tim’s elbow had the same air. “No. You should leave without delay.” He stalked from the room, not waiting for a reply.

Tim went straight from the conference room to the parking garage and headed for the Manor. He found Bruce in his room, grimly putting together his travel supplies while moving with more deliberation than usual. Bruising extended from beneath his sleeve across the back of his right hand, and finger-shaped welts blazed across the front of his neck. He looked up when Tim stood in the doorway.

“Tim.” He set some socks on top of the pile of underwear. “I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Tim leaned against the door jamb. “Damian mentioned you’re going off-planet for a while?”

“Hn.” Bruce turned away and kept moving clothes into his suitcase.

“Do you have to go?” Tim took care to keep his tone light. “Seems like there’s a lot going on here on this planet, and in our city, that could use you.”

Bruce sighed. “It’s a solo mission, or at least it's solo travel until I meet some of the Lanterns out there. Not many of the Justice League are suited to three months in space with the majority of it spent alone. They’re . . . social.”

“Hmm.” Tim straightened up to walk closer. “Hey, why are you moving like that? Did you get injured?”

“Yes.” Bruce still didn’t pause, or at least he didn’t till Tim stood between him and the bed where his suitcase lay open. “Tim.”

“Bruce,” Tim mimicked him. “Someone else can be lonely for three months. Someone who isn’t moving like he can’t find his Bengay.”

“Sitting still in a ship—" Bruce began.

“Isn’t recovery,” Tim finished. “Injuries can be exacerbated by weird space shit, you know that as well as I do because you taught me that. Why are you so essential to this trip?”

Bruce stared at him, silent, for a long moment, the muscle in his jaw working. Finally, he sighed. “It’s about Colu.”

“Wasn’t it blown up?” Tim asked.

“Essentially, yes. But there are refugees, as well, and there are associated problems the Justice League let go unaddressed that need to be resolved in a neighboring star system’s single liveable planet.”

Tim stared at him, then shook his head in what he wished was disbelief. “This is about you still feeling guilty about breaking the Source Wall, isn't it.” Bruce, predictably, made no answer. “Fine. What’s the name of the planet?”

Bruce picked up his tablet from the nightstand, tapped it a few times, and handed it to Tim. “You can’t pronounce it without a bisected tongue. See for yourself.”

Tim scanned through the information rapidly, then looked up. “I can handle this.”

Bruce frowned. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m volunteering.” Tim set the tablet down on the nightstand again. “Getting off-planet for a while isn’t the worst thing I could do, as long as you don’t think it’ll leave the patrol rotation too skimpy.”

“That won’t be an issue, no.” Bruce seemed to be struggling with words he didn’t want to speak, but in the end he won. “I know you’re capable of carrying out the mission. You’ll have to leave tonight to make it there in time.”

“No problem. I’ll go home and pack and be back in an hour.” Tim headed for the stairs without waiting for Bruce’s reply, pulling out his phone as he went. Opening his thread with Damian, he texted, mission accomplished hes not going

Damian liked the message just before Tim climbed back into his car. True to his word, Tim was back and ready to fly to the Watchtower to catch his ride within an hour.

His phone vibrated again while he was doing the mission precheck of the cockpit. Damian’s name popped up on the screen. Tim opened the message to read, Todd refuses to come to the Manor, naturally, so we must meet at your apartment to discuss our next steps.

Tim’s mouth twisted as a pang of guilt bounced around his ribcage. He was running out in the middle of the drama and leaving Damian to deal with it, which was shitty of him, but in this case he had to choose saving Bruce from himself rather than helping Damian.

sorry i wont be back for a while gotta take care of some aliens

He launched from the docking bay, and away from cell signals, before Damian’s reply could come through. Assuming there would’ve been one.

After he passed Uranus, he uploaded the Arabic course he'd bought to pass the time and got started. Improving his fluency wouldn't be a bad idea.

The trip took a little longer than expected, and was far more tedious than Bruce had led him to expect. Tim nearly cried in relief when he was finally able to type Earth’s coordinates into the navigation system.

His dreams on the way home were populated by everyday moments with the rest of the family, half-remembered interactions set to a nonsensical narrative. Sparring with Steph, meeting Cass and Duke for ice cream, crashing with Bruce through a skylight into some goons’ heads.

Kissing the back of Damian’s hand while Damian fucked him, his weight pressing Tim into the mattress. Ant euyuni, whispered hot against his skin, tender with affection, but this time he knew what the words meant.

Tim woke up with Damian’s murmured “Drake” still in his ears and his hand already on his cock. He stroked his way to a confused orgasm moments later and stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded, until the proximity alarm forced him to clean up the cooling mess on his belly and get up.

Dick had texted him regularly during his absence, a fact he discovered as soon as he got in range of Earth satellites and started receiving messages on his cell again. Most of them were better be ready to get whipped back into shape with me after all that space muscle atrophy type of things, or the mid-air selfies he knew made Tim laugh. One, however, was a picture of Damian giving the camera a direct look while seated behind a cake blazing with what Tim assumed was twenty-one candles. The message with it just said birthday boy—don't forget to wish him a happy belated when you get back, which was Dick being Extra Big Brother since he knew Tim tended to forget basic social niceties like that.

Tim rubbed the ache in his chest absentmindedly with the heel of his hand as he scrolled down farther. He needed to check the oxygen monitors and then his heart rate, make sure there wasn't anything seriously wrong, but the pain was probably just due to the lack of aerobic exercise since he'd been on the ship.

Kon's text tone was sounding regularly as the phone loaded more of the messages he'd missed. Reaching the bottom of Dick's thread, Tim tapped onto Kon's instead. The first message he saw was a picture of Jon, arms wrapped around Damian from behind as they both hovered mid-air in costume. Jon was planting a kiss on Damian's cheek while a tiny smile that Tim knew was involuntary curved Damian's mouth up. Kon had screencapped Buzzfeed's coverage of the picture, as witness the bolded headline below: "Why This Pic of Superman and the Artist Formerly Known as Robin Broke the Internet Today."

Kon had sent the screencap accompanied by a gif of Damian in his baby Robin days that had been a meme for five minutes, swinging his katana and screaming in silent rage while the caption read "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK."

Looked like Damian had left the Robin mantle behind once and for all. And that Jon and Jay might have called it quits. Or maybe their relationship was open.

Tim frowned. The chest pain was getting worse and now his throat felt like it was closing up. Some sort of anaphylactic reaction, maybe? Hopefully not. He moved to the tiny medical bay and ran a quick diagnostic, but nothing of concern popped up. Well, he was almost ready to dock with the Watchtower, so he could get checked out there. He texted back, jon has literally wanted to kiss damian since b4 he even knew he was bi, why are u showing me this????

Steph had texted him a lot, too, mostly selfies with various Gotham clusterfucks in the background while she threw up ironic peace signs in costume, and a few of her and Cass looking like they were literally trying to meld into one person. He hearted a bunch of the pictures just to let her know he was back.

Bruce had sent a couple of messages, the last one reading Let me know as soon as you're back on-planet. Your absence is felt on patrol, which was as close as he'd get to admitting he missed having Tim around.

There was one message from Jason. Hey. Lmk when you're back. I've got an update on some loose ends from the weapons trafficking case.

A beep from the cockpit told him the Watchtower's automated systems were trying to make friends with Tim's ship controls. He got them re-acquainted and then headed to the single berth to get his bag as the autopilot docked him.

Once he'd returned to the surface, Earth's gravity grabbed his bones and held them like an internal vise. He swayed a little on his feet as he walked to his car from the base, wishing he'd thought to bring a wheeled suitcase instead of his gear bags. He sat behind the wheel and turned on the engine, but took a second to text Jason back before he put the car into gear. He'd thought they'd wrapped up the weapons trafficking group with a neat and pretty bow for the CBI. Hearing they'd left some loose ends dangling chafed his pride.

Kon called him by the time he'd hit the highway. "Dude, welcome back! I missed your skinny ass."

Tim grinned. Normally he avoided voice calls like a death sentence, but for Kon it was worth making the exception. "How're things?"

"Pretty good. I'm hanging out with M'gann in a few but I wanted to say hi. You've been gone forever. I hope you worked out whatever was eating you so you can stick around for a while."

Tim shrugged even though of course Kon couldn't see it. "Nothing was eating me. I just like to keep busy now that I'm not working at WE as anything but a contractor anymore."

"Bullshit. Something happened. I know the regular Tim Drake flavors of overwork and this one was Overwork Plus, Bonus Angst Edition. But hey, I know sharing what you're thinking and feeling is really high up there on the Things You Like to Do list, right below root canals, so I'll drop it before you turn back around and head for Mars."

Tim's stomach clenched with pain. "Yeah, yeah, you know I really wanna bare my soul when I've been back on the planet five whole minutes, but right now I'm starving so I'm looking for the nearest Big Belly drive thru. Will you be at the tower anytime soon?"

They set up a time to meet up the following weekend, and then Tim hung up so he could order. Once he got the food, though, he picked at the fries in a desultory fashion, the cramping in his stomach not doing much to spur his appetite for some reason.

A text notification from Jason popped up on the car's screen. Tim tapped the bubble, keeping one eye on the road. The uninflected AI voice announced, "In the group with you and Damian, Jason wrote: We've got a problem. The remnants of the weapons-running org revamped itself and merged with another, smaller operation. They've got new contraband now and it's human. Would you like to reply?"

Tim's veins abruptly felt as though they'd been injected with ice water, and he couldn't decide if it was because of the message itself or because Damian was included on the thread. "No," he breathed.

"Okay," the AI responded.

It was just that it would be awkward. To have their first real interaction after Tim being gone for so long happen over text. He'd done a good job of avoiding thinking about it during his trip and now Jason had . . . texted them both. Like it was nothing.

Because it was nothing. As far as Jason knew, they were fine.

Actually, he was right, Tim reminded himself. He and Damian were fine. It wasn't like they'd had some sort of argument. They’d made their limits clear before they'd ever started and Damian had respected Tim’s so thoroughly that he’d barely had a real conversation with him since he'd thanked Tim for an educational experience.

Tim suddenly found himself wondering exactly in what areas he'd educated Damian besides the obvious.

While he'd been trying to talk himself down from the metaphorical rafters, Damian had responded in the thread. Tim tapped the screen again. "In the group with Jason, Damian wrote: This can't be allowed to continue. I've noticed an uptick in the human trafficking at the harbor. We can collaborate upon my return to Gotham tonight. Would you like to reply?"

Tim set his jaw. "Sure."

"What would you like to say?"

"I'm on my way to the Nest right now. Do you guys want to meet there later?"

"Your message reads—" Tim hit the Send button before the playback could continue. "Sent."

Within seconds, Jason texted back, "Sounds good."

Damian's reply took a little longer, but when it came through, it read, "Acceptable."

It was only when he heard the words that Tim realized he'd expected Damian to refuse. He reached to tap the cancel button onscreen. The AI responded but he wasn't paying attention. "You're really messing with my head here," he muttered, which was probably unfair.

"Your message reads: You're really messing with my head here. Send it now?"

He'd hit "reply" instead of "cancel." "No."

day thirty-seven here

#damitim #tim and damian and 150 prompts #like i know what you want #folliefic

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