#glory x godwin

[nelle-y]

Glory to Godwin

Synopsis: the final days of their relationship should not mean their final days alive

Content: Glory x Godwin, angst

Warnings: major character death, massacre, descriptions of gore

Note: Inspired by A Huguenot, on St. Bartholomew’s Day

—

In the midst of a massacre, hidden behind an unkept alley, was a mound of desperation and helplessness. Patches of dirt stood underneath Glory’s feet, tinting green grass and leaves as it crept up the wall. The sky was grey and the sounds of death nearly called her own name. She and Godwin hid behind the thick vines atop the wall, fearing for their lives. It was only a matter of time until the Fatui agents find them.

“Please, Godwin,” she cried, her blindfold hung above her eyes. “I beg of you. If not for my sake, then for your own life.” She buries her tear-stained face into Godwin’s chest. “Heed your own life, please!”

Her sobs broke the man’s heart. He has never seen Glory cry like this. However, he must keep his faith. No matter what the cost. It was his duty as a knight of Favonius to remain true to his word.

Glory had no such duty—she has the chance to flee and that was the choice Godwin wanted her to take. “Please, Godwin, please,” Glory pleaded him like a beggar for a meal.

All he could do was run a hand through her hair and smile, “My darling Glory, an apology is not enough to rid you of this pain.” A gun shot echoes in the distance—another life taken. Godwin holds her tight when he hears this, a hand on her head and an arm around her back. He kisses Glory’s forehead. “However, I can’t simply throw away my faith. You wouldn’t do it either, if you were in my place.”

Glory couldn’t help but feel the ache of grief slowly rise. Her head bowed to the ground, rejecting to hear the voice which will soon be lost forever. “There’s no convincing you, is there?” She breathes, defeated.

Her hands claw at Godwin’s clothes, tears threatening to burn her cheeks once more. He lifts her chin ever so lovingly, making the best of what time they have left.

Glory felt a breath from him. “Don’t,” she hushes him. “Don’t say it.” She knew all too well how much this man could hurt her, especially if he says those three words at a time like this.

Godwin returns to his soft smile, radiating a calm space for her to relive. “There!” A fatui skirmisher yells for his members. Right then and there, Glory felt her intestines drop to the floor, anxiety filling her stomach. “Go get them!”

“No!” Her desperate screams pierced their ears as agents and maidens separated the two. She itched her way out, “Let me go! Godwin!” Her hands drew for the knight only to be pulled back by an agent.

“Let her go! She’s of Snezhnayan blood,” Godwin lied in hopes that they would spare her, restrained with the hands of fatui scum. “Don’t hurt her!”

“Oh, really?” The skirmisher’s voice was rough, as if he had smoked a thousand cigarettes in his life. He walked to Godwin, gaze looking down on him. “Then I guess we’ll have to kill her last.”

Just as he was about to protest, a foot had landed on Godwin’s jaw, slight dislocation piercing the front of his ears. Glory could hear the impact of their hits on her beloved. Her bawls of agony rang through the walls of Mondstadt as she stood there, helpless. “Godwin! No, please don’t do this!”

Godwin could only watch her skew in turmoil, bound by the hands of their foe. He felt pathetic and unworthy of her undying love.

But one thing made him feel content—that he would die a hero in her heart.

To hopefully ease Glory’s suffering, he tried his best to keep quiet. Yet the pressures of the opposing groups managed to urge grunts and groans out of him. Glory kept calling Godwin’s name, hoping she could get a response, hoping he would be okay.

But instead of her name, two cracks split in the air, numbing her ears of anything pleasant.

She felt liquid drop on her feet. “Godwin!” The woman was sent into panic, chanting prayers and Barbatos’ name. Slashes of gooey somethings itched into Glory’s ears before she was thrown on something limp, wet, pulsating.

“Where’s your god now,” mocked the skirmisher.

Desperate for any contact, the blind woman kept calling his name. She took her blindfold and grazed her hands on his chest, looking for any source of blood. She could describe it as a cushion, ready for her head to lay on.

The open wound she felt reached the end of his stomach, giving way for his insides to spew out and blood stain their dirtied clothes. Godwin’s flesh smelled like iron, muscles trembling from the force of the blade.

“No. No, no, no, no,” she repeated, trying to keep her lover intact with her singular cloth and a beacon of hope. “Godwin, stay with me!” She felt his pulse, beating perfectly before fading into nothing.

Then the world fell silent and still.

No words could describe the emotion and desperation Glory had in her voice as she wailed her lover’s name one last time. Gunshots and screams in the distance, Glory could no longer hear them. It was as if her heart stopped beating the moment Godwin took his last breath.

Because amidst all the pain grief had brought, she failed to hear the footsteps that crept behind her.

“This is what you get for betraying her majesty.”

Bang.

—the end.—

[nethercomfies]

🌼 So this is love 🌼

Pairing: Albedo x reader

Content: Pre-relationship, realization of feelings, just very soft, features Klee as well, gender neutral reader

Word count: 868

Note: *taps mic* Hello, hello, does this thing still work? Hell yeah I'm back, in true Fern fashion with some soft Albedo because that's my jam :) Hope you enjoy!

Albedo never really cared for love. It was a foreign concept for him that he only read about in books, but nothing more than that. Nothing worth his time when he's always so busy with research and experiments, and important things like discovering the truth of this world (Or at least discovering what that's supposed to mean.) Between all that, there's no time for butterflies and anxiety, and whatever else the romance novels describe. Not to mention, it seems like love makes other people act a little silly.

Like Glory, who sits there day in and day out talking about how she can't wait for Godwin to come home, when probably everyone in Mondstadt knows that the very man she was waiting now has been meandering just outside of town for months, too scared to come back due to stupid pride, even tho he knows that his fiancé is scared out of her mind for him. Or Timaeus, who scribbles love poems next to his alchemy notes and gets distracted all the time, not even noticing when the potions he was mixing are threatening to boil over. Love seems to make people lose all sense, so Albedo has decided that he's better off without it.

Maybe that's why, as the two of you grew closer, he didn't recognize the signs at all, despite having read and heard about them so many times. The infamous butterflies that make him feel weird things whenever you smile at him. The way he suddenly falls into a daze while working as well, breaking out of it only to find small doodles of your face littered all across his notes. Or how sometimes his every thought gets consumed by a deep desire to just wrap his arms around you and never let go.

But love is such a foreign concept, so far out of his grasp that surely, that can't be it, right?

It's an innocent comment from Klee that makes him question his feelings for the first time.

"Big brother Albedo?" she asks, looking up at him with big eyes as they're walking home one day.

"What is it, Klee?" He smiles down at her.

"Can we invite y/n to our picknick tomorrow? Please?"

Albedo is a little taken aback. Usually Klee deeply treasures their little family outings. She refuses to let anyone get between her private time with Albedo, to a point where she even rejected Kaeya's request to tag along once. "You really like y/n a lot, huh?" He asks with a small chuckle. "I never saw you try to invite someone along to our outings."

"I like that they make you smile. It makes Klee happy too", the little girl responds, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Also, they make really good snacks so I want them to bring some to our picknick." She adds it more like an afterthought, like it's only secondary to her other reason.

Maybe it meant nothing to Klee, but it leaves Albedo thinking. Does he really smile that much when he's around you? People have commented before that he only ever genuinely smiles when he's around Klee, but no one has ever pointed out the same with you. Although, now that it's been called to his attention... He really does feel a lot happier around you. There's something about you that makes it easy for him to let down his guard. It's a strange realization and he still doesn't understand the meaning of it, but he takes a mental note of it and decides that it requires further investigation.

From that day onward, you're always invited to the family outings with Klee and Albedo. It becomes perfectly natural, like you've always been there. Like it's always been just the three of you, exploring Mondstadt together, having fun little picknicks or arts and crafts afternoons.

It's on one of these days that the realization finally hits Albedo. You're sitting on Albedo's couch, Klee fast asleep in your arms while he makes a cup of tea for the both of you. Albedo watches as you run a hand through the girl's hair, a gentle smile on your face as she snuggles closer into your arms. The soft glow of a candle bathes you in a warm light and he's overcome with the familiar urge to join you, to pull you into his arms and hold you close. That urge has been getting a lot more frequent lately, and he was never able to fully make sense of it.

But at this moment, something clicks for him. The urge to be close to you. The thought of how beautiful you look consuming his mind. The smile still tugging at his lips. The butterflies threatening to burst through his chest. All the pieces fall into place and the realization hits him out of nowhere.

He's in love with you.

[i23kazu]

　　　　　　　　　　　 chapter 001; seed.

– synopsis: in which you’ve hated that knight for as long as you could remember. from your training days, to being officially recruited – that stuck up redhead caused you headaches from the first day. what happens once he casts his eyes on you? the best time of your life? or will he make it a living hell? either way, be warned, cursed reader. most flowers don’t last forever. fate will always find a way to tear you apart.

– pairing / genre: diluc x gn!reader | knights of favonius!au

a morning glory blooms as you step past it. 

ironic, isn’t it? how something so beautiful lasts for such a brief moment. it represents strength; the type of strength and motivation one gets to achieve their dreams. it’s pathetic, really. the flower decays before you get to observe it in its full beauty. perhaps the archons had wished for people to see the beauty in decay in this flower. but you wish you could make it last — gain a vision of dendro, perhaps, so that you could help this small blossom last an eternity. 

peace reminds you of this morning glory. fleeting, wonderful, a sight to behold — and yet, it dies within a few hours. peace died the day the decarabian clan declared war on your beloved homeland; the revenge it sought after its namesake’s downfall. 

jean had quickly set the knights to work, all of your comrades bidding goodbyes to their lovers and families. godwin sat by glory every morning, seemingly cherishing his brief moments with her, and herman could frequently be seen with his daughter; you understood how it felt, though. no one knew when their last moment would come. death was something that paced near the door each passing day, always walking closer, always stepping back, always keeping you on the edge. 

peace wasn’t just about the war, you thought. 

the peace you wanted was not found in diluc ragnvindr. 

the man with the flaming hair was your partner; both of you responsible for your calvary. you formalised the strategies, he led the charge – that was all you would look at him for. he was supposed to be the person you could depend the most on. people would consider you close to him, but only he and you knew the truth — simply because you shared mutual feelings. 

you had felt nothing but anger and annoyance at him. he taunted, he teased, he pushed back – but he had never gotten along with you, other than in a formal work setting. his morals have never aligned with yours, you remember. his father’s death had clouded his judgment, his words now left cold and loveless, frozen to the core. how diluc got his pyro vision is a question you never seem to be able to answer. 

diluc ragnvindr was not the morning glory you wished to see. 

the war had forced the two of you to form a loveless bond; there was no love between the captains. words are spat and insults were thrown, since jean had given up on making the two of you form a friendship. as long as the work is done, she was satisfied. 

—

peace is found in the form of a quiet sunrise, hues painting the horizon as you cast your sleepy gaze towards its full glory. moments of tranquility come uncommon nowadays, and you’d rather appreciate what you have now before you’re no longer alive to experience it. there is no telling when your life ends – whether it ends by the weapon in someone’s hand, by old age, by anything; life is too short and uncertain for you to be complaining in front of a painted sky. 

sighs exhale from your mouth, your shoulders slumped as you take in the first moment of rest you’ve had in days like a fish let back into the water. it’s refreshing, you think.

meanwhile, for diluc, peace is found in the form of a quiet office. his fingers gingerly trace the patterns of the stained wooden desk he calls his own, a frown tugging at his lips as he rifles through piles and stacks of paperwork jean had woefully assigned him to do. 

he knows how tough the war has been on gunnhildr. it is uncommon of jean to delegate tasks — he knew how much she preferred keeping the harsher tasks for herself and leaving the lighter workload to the two of you. 

he doesn’t agree with you, though — as much as jean had pleaded with him to. a childish vendetta forced him to turn his nose upward and he always wants to spite you, taunt you, he wants to push you away no matter how many times jean forces you to come back. he wants to feel in power over something, over anything. the war had taken away his autonomy… he just wanted to feel in control of something again. hell, he was desperate enough to want power over you. 

peace was not found in the form of you. 

— 

diluc can’t think of a time where he was nice to you on purpose, and vice versa. the weary knight was tired of fake pleasantries. why should he bother with trying to be nice when he just got riled up in the end?

“can you be honest, for once in your life?!” 

“alright. your outfit looks wonderful.” 

“simply put, you’re always five steps ahead of your own thoughts.” 

he can’t help it. there’s something about you and the way you get riled up that makes him want to do it all over again. to see that indignant frustration wash away all pleasantry seemed hilarious to him. 

—

peace was like a morning glory — always growing, always sending hope; always shrivling and dying at the end of the day. 

“(y/n), could i ask you and diluc to please just try to get along? for all our sakes?” jean sighed. 

“look, jean, i can’t do anything about him. he always starts it—“ 

“i do not. i wouldn’t stoop that low.” the redhead folded his arms across his chest. 

f*** that ragnvindr. 

“what is with you? you know well that you’ve been the one provoking everyone, me especially.” you turned to glare at him. 

“perhaps the fault lies with you, (l/n). have you ever considered blaming yourself? maybe it’s not just me who’s at fault.” he retorted. 

“maybe it’s because i know that it’s not me who’s at fault? i don’t know, ragnvindr. i’ve tried my best to be nice to you but you always make it hard to continue.” you threw your hands up in frustration, brushing back your hair as you let out a weary exhale. 

“look, i honestly do care about the both of you, but i don’t have the time for this. please just get on with it, finish whatever the two of you have going on, or just be nice to each other, please?” 

poor jean. it seemed as if peace, for her, was neither diluc ragnvindr nor you. 

@i23kazu 2022. do not plagarise, copy, translate, or repost any of my works.

[caltropspress]

FEEDBACK LOOP #7: Curly Castro’s “Weapon 13X” featuring Breeze Brewin

There was a very old man, an old white man out in the crowd, and he started screaming and crying like a baby and he kept crying and he said, “God damn, God damn, what is this God damn country coming to that the niggers have got guns, the niggers are armed and the police can’t even arrest them!” He kept crying and somebody led him away through the crowd.

—Robert F. Williams, Negroes with Guns (1962)

Gun flash beats the child’s head in, maniac teeth dance in a bloody grin blue lies, badge confessions, yng dude dead just beyond his mama’s arms

—Amiri Baraka, “Stop Killer Cops”

Police said Cleaver and Hutton were holed up at 1218 28th Street with two 9 mm automatic pistols, two AR-15 and one military-type M-14 automatic rifle, and a large supply of ammunition, some armor-piercing.

—Berkeley Barb, Volume 6, Number 15, Issue 139

1.

“Weapon 13X” is a diptych. Two verses; one pivot—or volta, for you bookworms. Curly Castro is first with a séance that summons the mysteries of Clarence 13X and Weapon X. These nullified variables and Roman numerals come together in an elixir mix so potent that it would make Aes Rock choke on the amalgam. Castro opens the fission gate and discharges two-hundred forty thousand mega-therms on the city of brotherly love, the city of bombs from above onto a 6221 Osage Avenue row house. Shameek just got bust in his arm, leg, leg, arm, head. The Black man is God personified, and Logan is regenerative. Adamantium claws. Mathematical jaws. Science dropped and experiments performed. Spark this like metal does when dragged across concrete.

2.  “Harriet would grab her balls, / This my gun, and this my rifle.”

Harriet Tubman gets cast by Kubrick for Full Metal Jacket, recites the Rifleman’s Creed, but it was actually a pistol she kept buried within the folds of her calico. She sallied forth seeing visions from the overseer’s heave of a weight—made her skull snap. Don’t sleep. “When the caliber’s inside you,” you can’t necessarily count on “the muzzle smoke revival.”

3.

Quelle Chris provides production, lest we forget his 2019 Guns album with its Dada-bullet, double-barreled barrage album art. The title track armed to the teeth: “Ain’t no cracking that code, / Ain’t no safety on locks, / Might as well get you one, / Procrastinating will get you popped.” The machine gun funk outs finks and COINTELPRO cooperators, conspirators, dispiriters. Here, Castro’s got those same turncoats and sucker MCs in his sights, so to speak.

4.  [The oppressor] teaches the Negro that he has no worth-while past, that his race has done nothing significant since the beginning of time, and that there is no evidence that he will ever achieve anything great. (Carter Godwin Woodson, The Mis-Education of the Negro, 1933)

Castro makes a promise, provoked by those who came before him, those who brandished firearms in the faces of their enemies:

We never will disarm: these are the lies that you were sold, When your glory tripped up, you trade your weapons in for gold. With Yakub in the schools, trade your dreams, knowledge folds. Found the tome, Mis-Education Negroes…

Dr. Yakub sloshing liquids in the lab—Bunsen burners explode and the lab leak is viral whiteness. Tricknology replaces Biology. Castro is looking back while moving forward. “Doomed to repeat it”-type forewarnings. He knows the ledge and also wants his people to.

5.

aim     get your sights & its sound in abstract or journal movements to a peace settlement

dude shot my man

dead,          precious lord blow off theres no willy in th blues theres no you.

—from Tom Weatherly’s Maumau American Cantos (1970)

Castro is a “gunhand, cybernetic with spray cans, / Basquiat, baklava, Mau Mau.” That’s likely an intentional malaprop—surely his militant stance calls for a balaclava. Even still, Castro doesn’t stutter. He will still sh-sh-shift his voice on you—the dynamics of his delivery raise stakes and get guttural, scraping against sewer plates. He’s potent, even if Basquiat’s pistol appears flaccid with its hand-scrawled linework. In another piece, Basquiat starts the decolonization process at the point of a safari helmet. The image detonates.  

6.  Free country? Man, I should fuck you up for sayin’ that stupid shit alone.

“This film is a call to racial violence!” a film critic shouted at Roger Ebert after a screening of Do the Right Thing. She worried Bed-Stuy would set fire to theaters, but Lee’s 1989 film wasn’t The Rite of Spring in Paris in 1913. An amerikan psychotic turn to theater violence would be postponed until Aurora in 2012, and it would be white violence, which would come as a shock to none who have tracked the trajectory of white violence. Displacement is white violence, too. White violence is a sine qua non for gentrification. And so Castro allies himself with “Buggin’ Out battle brownstone houses, some Bird fans, / While Mookie turns the radio up and launched the trashcan.”

7.  “We are the weapons.”

Of late, Castro has consistently been proving you’re out your depth, with verses so allusive they suggest a strong “Erick Sermon and Parrish Smith, nobody blink. / They don’t now who the fuck that is” vibe. So what, though? At this point, Castro’s a vet, an elder. The youngins need to catch up or cash out. Get KRS-One bookish, kiddies, or be left behind. Be the weapon or never prosper. Create your own mythos: “Omega built a mother by the sun and Cyclops sent / a blurred Baraka poem capable to raise the dead. / Yet instead I use the sword...”—with Wu-Tang pronunciation of the w in “sword,” of course. History moves backwards and forwards at the same time. Language is lost and recovered. The poem is “blurred” because it’s been duplicated on a mimeograph—a machine that involves a “drum.” The words are ink-smudged. Baraka’s former partner, Diane di Prima, shouted, “"Power to the people's mimeo machines!” Accuse and attack, Baraka sloganeered. We’re talking about agency—by hand-crank, handgun, or mic check.

8.

Castro creates imagery like Emory Douglas did with paint: painfully bold and saturated with color like blood soaks clothes. Baraka called Douglas’s art a combo of “expressionist agitprop and homeboy familiarity,” which applies to what Castro does on the track. I quote Mao who called literature and art “part of the whole proletarian revolutionary cause,” and Mao quotes Lenin who called lit and art the “cogs and wheels in the whole revolutionary machine.” And Baraka also said Douglas’s work:

functioned as if you were in the middle of a rumble and somebody tossed you a machine pistol. It armed your mind and demeanor. Ruthlessly funny, but at the same time functional as the .45 slugs pouring out of that weapon.

The Panthers were trapped and tear-gassed in a West Oakland basement. Eldridge Cleaver told Bobby to go out naked—unarmed as the day he was born not quite eighteen years earlier—but he emerged from the burning house fully dressed, with dignity, and he was searchlighted and shotshotshotshotshotshotshot dead.

Castro needs Brewin to make the cypher complete—a two-man killarmy using loud words in quiet wars, no silencer.

9.  “Before blurting out, try analysis, brother.”

Breeze’s Yo, listen… at the start of his verse is comparable to Sir Thomas Wyatt intoning Whoso list to hunt… to begin his 16th-century sonnet. The amalgam here is less Five Percenter plus clandestine government experimentation and more a deconstruction of the both violent and sexualized language of braggadocio. “Anything you say isn’t played like Miranda Rights,” and so we’re already with our hands behind our backs, silenced by an pig officer’s gag order. The competition doesn’t get played; they play themselves.

Sir Thomas Wyatt sets it off like so:

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, hélas, I may no more. The vain travail hath wearied me so sore, I am of them that farthest cometh behind. Yet may I by no means my wearied mind Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore Fainting I follow.

Breeze has wanted to stay pleasant to the ears—you know, like Lauryn Hill phone sexing—so this isn’t new territory but rather a well-worn path. Wyatt’s wearied and “so sore” by “the hunt,” the pursuit of his love interest, even though he knows “where is an hind.” Still, “as she fleeth afore / Fainting [he] follows.” He can’t help himself.

Love is lost within violent pursuit. Breeze speaks of a “plan to strike” and “zero in” on a “target,” his quarry. He and Castro are “talking about broads often, no doubt, / We broad and burly as hell, / Brag about the hunt, you was jukin’ a girly gazelle.” Breeze’s assault is dizzying, a salvo from all angles: “Hit ’em with some counter clay rebuttals that’s subtle but still befuddle if dude slow.”

10.  “It’s nothin’, I gotcha, and that’s word to Super Lover Cee.”

Super Lover Cee and Casanova Rud’s 1988 single “Girls I Got ’Em Locked” articulates the carceral embrace of “locking” a girl down, which—consequently—requires violence to enforce: “Don’t ever touch a girl owned by me or I’ll ruin ya’, / Slap you with my mic simultaneously as I’m doin’ ya.” The girl is commodified, and Super Lover Cee takes a proprietary attitude toward the relationship. If you overstep, you’ll be ruined, that is, you’ll fall. And while you’re prostrate, you’ll be slapped with the phallic mic simultaneously. Is the Super Lover doin’ her or you, though? What’s truly getting him off? That hypermasculine posturing skews homoerotic. Breeze Brewin laughs at you for subscribing to the nonsense: “Dag, if that was what you believe then your world be a hell.”

11.

Liberal discourse suggests policing your impulses. Put down the gun—don’t touch it. “Touchy subjects,” like racism (apparently), get the “We need to have a conversation” treatment. Look, don’t touch. Don’t touch the exhibit of stolen artifacts—those Benin bronzes in the British Museum. Beneath the topic of orignoo gunn clapping, Curly Castro’s track is about the x’s and o’s of eros as well. Many gestures meant to protect women are merely some other man staking his claim, adorning her with “diamonds in letters plain,” as Wyatt writes of the collar around the deer’s “fair neck.” Wyatt’s sonnet warns against overstepping (or even half-stepping). The collar reads Noli me tangere (touch me not)—she belongs to someone else. It’s a bad touch example. Like his fellow Indelible J-Treds, Breeze Brewin is the living circle-circle-dot-dot: nobody can touch him.

12.

Let’s bring it back to Little Bobby Hutton. When Eldridge Cleaver told him to leave the ambushed basement naked, he was thinking of Bobby’s safety. He thought the extreme measure of appearing on the street without clothes would be enough to convince the pigs he wasn’t armed. Cleaver was naïve to think so. Bobby Hutton was right to emerge clothed. In doing so, he rejected the indignity of the auction block, the lynching, the mutilation and spreading of souvenir flesh. The searchlight made Bobby Hutton the subject of a spectacle, yes, but he refused to consent to the psychosexual desires of white supremacy. He refused the castration ritual. Little Bobby Hutton, in effect, threw down a challenge to the cops: Use your imagination once again. Try to think of a few situations where your own weapon might be used against you…used against you…used against you.

Images:

Emory Douglas, The Black Panther, Vol. IV, No. 78, 1971 (detail) | Weapon X (detail, issue unknown) | Emory Douglas, Rat Subterranean News (1970) | Harriet Tubman with gun sketch | Anti-Mau Mau British propaganda poster | Newspaper headline from Negroes with Guns | Jean-Michel Basquiat, Untitled (date unknown) | Jean-Michel Basquiat, Native Carrying Some Guns, Bibles, and Amorites on Safari (1982) | Screenshot from Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing (1989) | Two images from the Berkeley Barb, Volume 6, Number 15, Issue 139 (1968) | Emory Douglas, The Black Panther (miscellaneous poster) | Medieval depiction of the hunt (unknown) | Image detail from the Berkeley Barb, Volume 6, Number 15, Issue 139 (1968)

[dailynewswebsite]

After presidents meet, Big Ten football still in limbo

The Guardian

At 43, Tom Brady seemed above common somewhat than nice on his Buccaneers debut

The six-time Tremendous Bowl champion will want some time to settle into a brand new system in Tampa. However time isn’t precisely on his sideIt is unimaginable to microwave a championship within the NFL. An excessive amount of goes into it. It’s why many an low season “winner” has blown aside in spectacular vogue: The Dream Group Eagles, the tanktastic Browns, numerous editions of the Jets.Flash-frying a title-worthy group is additional troublesome this season, because the Tom Brady led Tampa Bay Buccaneers confirmed on Sunday. The reshaped Bucs have been off the tempo in opposition to the New Orleans Saints, beset by particular person errors, sloppy penalties, a turnstile at left sort out, and an absence of velocity.It takes time for gamers to gel right into a group, all of the extra so while you’re coping with a batch of latest arrivals – most notably Brady and Rob Gronkowski – who’ve had success taking part in their manner.Shifting the ball seemed arduous for Brady for a lot of Sunday. It was just like the sensation that hovered over the Patriots throughout Brady’s closing stretch in New England. The whole lot felt somewhat off-beat. Staccato. A bit sluggish. The Bucs completed the sport with penalties totaling in extra of 100 yards, a traditional signal of an out-of-sync facet.The Bucs hung within the sport, by and huge, because of their protection (a gaggle that profiles as one of many 5 finest within the league) and a few baffling play-calling from the Saints. However there should have been a lingering sense of déjà vu for Brady, who watched this comparable script play out all through his closing weeks with the Patriots.This was all the time going to be the way in which. Brady and head coach Bruce Arians are attempting to wed two contrasting kinds. Brady introduced components of the Patriots blueprint with him to Tampa, however he pressed his previous model onto Arians’ run-n-gun system.Brady is betting on the Bucs’ ceiling. He’s betting on their personnel. This isn’t about Gronkowski, who was operating on fumes in opposition to the Saints after a 12 months away from the sport and gave the impression to be held collectively by robotic components and Scotch Tape, neither is it about Leonard Fournette or LeSean McCoy, a pair of gamers whose popularity far outweighs their worth to the group. That is about Mike Evans, Chris Godwin, and OJ Howard, the younger core who Brady is banking on to assist him roll again the years. There was all the time going to be teething issues. Brady, his new receivers and the offensive line are every studying one another’s idiosyncrasies. It’s the identical with the coach, too: Arians is a coach famed for limiting his tight ends within the passing sport; Brady is a quarterback who has spent the final decade ripping opponents aside over the center of the sector by focusing on tight ends. It took till deep into the second-half for the Bucs to begin to characteristic Gronkowski and Howard on Sunday – Gronkowski completed with simply three targets; Howard with 5.There isn’t any storyline we take pleasure in greater than ‘the previous man’s nonetheless bought it’. And Brady confirmed flashes of his previous self: in command on the line of scrimmage, pretty environment friendly, keen to problem all ranges of the protection. Fearless. Worryingly for Tampa, the errors that crept into his sport throughout that closing 12 months with the Patriots – the miscommunications, the inaccuracies, the turnovers – have been nonetheless there, too.That’s who Brady is lately, an above-average starter able to a drive or two of magic however liable to overlook wildly on a quick-out that prices the group six factors.> Janoris Jenkins jumps in entrance for the pick-6! Saints > >

: TBvsNO on FOX >

: NFL app // Yahoo Sports activities app: https://t.co/5o8cWoN1yf pic.twitter.com/59dxseKWNC> > — NFL (@NFL) September 13, 2020It will have been unfair to count on the Bucs to gel quick, on offense at the very least. The continuing pandemic has restricted the group’s follow time and eradicated the psychological and bodily reps that preseason would have offered.Nonetheless, while you signal a 43-year-old quarterback, you’re confessing that your championship window is 19 video games – if you happen to’re fortunate. And so each facet of the Brady-Arians relationship will likely be hyper-analyzed. The early returns weren’t nice. However the constructing blocks of one thing are there, and it will likely be enjoyable watching them attempt to determine it out.Brady and the Bucs should be a slow-burn. And as Sunday confirmed, they’ve a protracted option to go. Stat of the weekCam Newton’s 75 speeding yards have been probably the most by a Patriots quarterback since 1977.Sunday supplied the primary take a look at the post-Brady period Patriots. It was completely different, but it surely was efficient. “That is very environment friendly soccer and really simple soccer,” Tony Romo stated on the published of the Newton-led offense.As anticipated, the Patriots shifted the main target of the offense from a timing, passing-based offense into one revolving across the run. Newton was environment friendly by the air (15-19, 155 yards) and a bulldozer on the bottom – 75 yards and two touchdowns. The run and passing video games labored in good sync, with 80% of the group’s passing performs that includes play-action and all however three dropbacks that includes some sort of pre-snap motion or movement.Greater than that, Newton seemed comfy and wholesome. He could not fairly have his previous breakaway velocity, however he stays as keen as ever to provoke contact and to function the group’s energy runner. Few gamers may deal with the stress of changing one half of the Brady-Belichick partnership. Newton isn’t solely dealing with it, he’s embracing it. At this price, with Newton’s damage historical past, it’s more likely to be unsustainable. But it surely’s undeniably enjoyable. MVP of the weekRussell Wilson, QB, Seahawks. Is that this the 12 months that Wilson lastly will get the MVP award he deserves? The much-discussed ‘let Russ cook dinner’ offense was out in full drive in week one. Wilson responded along with his now-standard excellence, explosive and environment friendly in equal measure.Wilson accomplished 31 of 35 passes for 322 yards, with 4 touchdowns and no interceptions, because the Seahawks went to Atlanta and began the season with a dominant 38-25 win. Video of the week> it doesn’t matter what day what 12 months what century. browns are nonetheless the browns. pic.twitter.com/Vx3gsuisUO> > — Tony X (@soIoucity) September 13, 2020That is the Browns faking a punt in their very own half with a former rugby participant nicknamed the “Scottish Hammer”. Jamie Gillan fumbled the ball, and it didn’t get a lot better for the Browns the remainder of the way in which.It was a tough day for brand new Browns head coach Kevin Stefanski. Baker Mayfield by no means seemed comfy in Stefanski’s new offense. He was hitching all through the primary half, uncertain whether or not to belief his eyes or instincts. On protection, the Browns have been rolled by a Ravens facet that, as common, had every thing clicking behind Lamar Jackson.It’s a brand new regime, however watching the Browns continues to be a laborious expertise. You understand there’s expertise on the sector. And but all you possibly can assume is soccer shouldn’t be this tough. Quote of the week“If the Washington Soccer Group identify catches on and our followers embrace it then we’d be completely satisfied to have it as our everlasting identify” – Dan Snyder in an e-mail to the Wall Avenue Journal.Dan Snyder hardly ever, if ever, has a good suggestion. In reality, the world is a brighter place when he doesn’t communicate. However, this isn’t his worst. Coke. Twitter. Apple. Why not a sports activities group? Washington. Nothing else. As Justin Timberlake infamously retorted in The Social Community, “drop the ‘The.’ It’s cleaner.”Washington, a group for all town, maybe the nation; you possibly can see the advertising now. Whether or not a group in that metropolis may obtain such unity is open for dialogue. Elsewhere across the league– The Colts wished to signal Philip Rivers within the offseason, and signal Philip Rivers in all his glory they did. The Colts have been trailing by 4 with 5 minutes remaining and the size of the sector to drive. As night time follows day, Rivers threw a back-breaking interception. Rivers’ numbers during the last 10 years within the closing six minutes of one-score video games are terrible: he has accomplished simply 53% of his passes and has thrown 9 touchdowns to 23(!) interceptions. > Lions LB Jamie Collins was ejected after making contact with an official along with his helmet. pic.twitter.com/yvSAH5lwZ7> > — FOX Sports activities: NFL (@NFLonFOX) September 13, 2020– An early entry for the silliest ejection of the season: Jamie Collins, in making an attempt to reveal to an official how he was speared, wound up thumping his helmet into the official.– Adam Gase is in the midst of what’s turning into a really dynastic run. The Jets hiring in 2019 was the worst transfer of the season; and bringing him again in 2020 was the only most franchise-wrecking transfer of 2020. Jets followers will already be looking forward to subsequent season after their group have been rolled 27-17 by the Payments.– Aaron Rodgers seems to be set to stay it to Packers administration this season. Rodgers was calm and environment friendly within the early going in opposition to the Vikings after which caught fireplace in a manner solely Patrick Mahomes and Rodgers actually can. He completed 32-44 with 364 yards and 4 touchdowns in main the Packers to a 43-34 win over the Vikings. Put the quarterback controversy items on maintain for now.– A troublesome debut and loss for the No1 general decide, Joe Burrow. All of it seemed really easy when he scampered for a gap landing early in his skilled debut. However his Cincinnati Bengals picked first within the draft for a motive, and Burrow seems to be like he has loads of studying to do as he missed a number of open receivers for what would have been touchdowns. Nonetheless, he has greater than sufficient expertise to change into a drive within the league. — Like one of the best bunkers, Gardner Minshew is tank proof. The Jaguars’ plans to place themselves for the No 1 decide in subsequent 12 months’s draft (most likely Clemson quarterback Trevor Lawrence) have been dealt a blow by their budding second-year, almost-star. Minshew completed 19-20, throwing for 173 yards and three touchdowns, with a complete bunch of that manufacturing coming off-script.

from Growth News https://growthnews.in/after-presidents-meet-big-ten-football-still-in-limbo/ via https://growthnews.in

[hannahrodrigo-blog1]

“Para sa bayan at sa sining!"

Congratulations sa aking production na B'yaheng Gen-X, Gen-Y, atbp. the Musical ang bagong nag suot ng korona bilang "Best Play" sa kakatapos pa lamang na Crossroads'15 Benildean Theater Festival. Ito ang pinaka maliit pero pinaka palaban at matibay na produksyon na nasalihan ko. Bagama't forever na yata akong stucked nominated for Best Actress, eh alam ko naman panalo na ako sa puso ng aking prod! Salamat sa mga kwento kung paano kayo pinaiyak and pinatawa ni Tita Minda Garcia!

Thank you kay Direk Bryan Nonay sa paniniwala at paghubog ng aking kakayahan! Mahal kita alam mo na yun, bes! Deserve mo ang Best Playwright at Best Play! #MajorAward #UhmmUpdatedSiTita Sa aking mga co-lead na si Beatrice L. Ramos, Congrats sa iyong Best Supporting Actress award, iha! Naitawid mo ang play with flying colors! #TitaCares Sa nominated for best supporting actor na si Billy Cheung, congrats! Nawa'y mas mahalin mo pa ang teatro! Wag puro milk tea! Sa aking bida bida best friend for all seasons na si Eli, mabuhay ka! Congratulations Yvette Mae Cruz sa iyong best supporting actress nomination. Gaga- grabe po ang iyong talento!

Sa aking paboritong co-star na si Godwin. Tita Minda wouldn't be complete without you! Kay Regina Aceron, na malaboses Regine Velasques! Salamat puso at dedikasyon na iyong ibinigay sa prod. #Palaban To Christian Rae, bon appetit! First time ko kumain on stage! Salamat ha! Ito dapat na isa makasama sa best supporting actor nominees, si Alfonso Sales! Kay Maiqui Tolentino na kanang kamay ni Bry. Salamat sa tyaga at paniniwala sa akin. Malaki ang contribution mo sa pag buo ng karakter ni Minda! Ikaw yata ang unang sinampolan ng katarayan ni Tita Minda! Labyu mars lam mo rin yan!

Sa aking musical director na si Snow Toledo, ikaw ang Simon Cowell na may boses Daryl Ong ng prod. char Maraming salamat sa musika. I'm you fan!

Sa aking ibang mga pamangkin Antonette Sofia Shim Ryon Pamela Ayie Beverly Ann, Samantha Nicole Antonette

Paola Bucu ATBP +++ maraming salamat po sa iyong effort! Naappreciate ko po kayo! *Saludo with poise* #Lovelovelove

Sa aking favorite na ka chikahan Nicki Roque, Earl Lagundino, Kristina Hechanova @Abby Adrienne Gabrielle

love you guys! you know it already naman hihi!

Pasasalamat sa aking dalawang ultimate inspiration: Kris Aquino and Lea Salonga

Lastly, maraming salamat sa aking Panginoong Hesus! Tunay na ikaw po ang gumabay at nag empower sa production na ito. Since day one ibinabalik na po namin lahat ng kaluwalhatian. All glory to Your name!

Bumabati ng "magandang buhay mga mumshie!", Hannah Rodrigo Crossroads 15' Best Actress Nominee.

Mahal ko kayo! <3

B'yaheng Gen-X, Gen-Y, atbp. Best Play Box Office Award Best Graphic Design Best Supporting Actress Best Playwright Star of the Night (Nikki Roque)

[nelle-y]

Pt. 2 is so good, thank you for writing it!

I’m glad you liked it! I got very angsty Glory x Godwin content coming out tomorrow at 9am (UTC+08) so make sure to check that out if you’re interested🫶🏻

(It’s out now! Here’s the link!)