#the calm down hand in a goal keeper glove is so

[sendinthehuskies]

#you don’t know this is affecting me #the calm down hand in a goal keeper glove is so #so personal to me #lionesses

[woso-dreamzzz]

Training

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Zećira Mušović x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You train with Zećira 

You put your foot up on Momma's knee so she can lace up your new boots. You're very excited and can't stop wiggling around. You've already got your gloves on. You've been wearing them since you got up this morning and snuck into the Big Bed to worm your way between Momma and Morsa.

Morsa's pacing in front of you, muttering under her breath and waving her hands around. Every time she calms down, she looks at you and it all starts up again.

"Momma," You say," Why is Morsa being weird?"

Momma laughs as she taps your leg to get you to drop it. "Morsa's just a bit jealous," She says.

"But why?"

"Because your wearing Zećira's Chelsea shirt."

You look down and tug at the hem. It's true. You are wearing Zećira's black Not-Wolfsburg shirt but you've paired it with your Wolfsburg green shorts so it balances out. "I don't have Zećira's Rosengård shirt."

Momma laughs again as Morsa moves to open the door. She helps you stand up and puts your training backpack on your back.

"Looking good, y/n," Zećira says, hand out for a high five as you run to greet her.

You spin on your heel. "It's your shirt!"

"I can see that! Are you ready to go and do some training today?"

You nod quickly, head bobbing up and down before you reach to take her hand.

Morsa clears her throat. "What's going on? You wear Zećira's shirt and suddenly you're too cool to say goodbye to us?"

You drop Zećira's hand to hug Morsa and then Momma. It's barely a hug though. It's more of a quick squeeze before you're running to hold Zećira's hand again.

"I want her back in a few hours," Morsa says in her captain voice which means Zećira has to listen or else. She tried to use that voice on you once but you just giggled and gave her a little kiss.

"Yes, captain," Zećira laughs before taking your hand more firmly and leading you out the door.

Her car is parked out the front of the house but you don't get in. Instead, you cross the street and walk down it to get to the park.

There aren't many people out because it's a Wednesday and normal people are at work so it's just you and Zećira at the goalposts and a few people walking their dogs.

"Okay." Zećira dumps hers and your bags by one of the posts. "Do you remember what the most important thing to do is before we train?"

"Warm up!"

"That's right. So, we're going to jog from this goal to the ones over there. Ready?"

"Ready!"

Zećira runs with you. It's a lot easier for her because she's got longer legs but you make sure to keep up even though you have to take more strides than her.

She makes you do it twice - there and back before showing you how to stretch properly and then how tight to do up your gloves. By the end of it, your face is all sweaty and your flyaways stick to your forehead as you pant.

Zećira lets you take a water break so you guzzle down enough water to feel full before arriving at her side again.

She sits in front of you, legs spread with a ball between them. "Okay, so today, we're going to go very slow. One step at a time."

"Okay!" You sit in front of her, legs spread like hers.

"So, I want you to stand in goal and then I'm either going to roll or throw the ball at you. I want you to get it in your hands and lay down on top of it, okay?"

"Okay!"

You hurry to go stand in goal, bouncing on your feet because Zećira once told you at Not-Wolfsburg training that keepers need to be light on their feet.

She rolls the ball to you. It's kind of slow but you grab it in your hands before tucking it into your chest and moving to lay down on the ground.

"Very good!" Zećira praises," Now we're going to try a high one."

She throws it underarm at you and you reach out to grab it before lying on your stomach again.

"Well done! Do you know why we do it like this?"

You shake your head as you kick the ball back to her and she repeats the exercise.

"Well, if we just catch the ball, there's always a chance that we drop it so if we cover it with our whole body then the other team can't kick it in while we're distracted. It's a surefire way to keep the ball while you recover a bit. Sometimes if you catch a shot then it can wind you and you need a little moment to breathe properly again."

You nod along as you make another little save.

As time goes on, Zećira stops rolling the ball and starts kicking at you. They're not her proper goalkicks that she does at matches but they're still kicks and a few of them catch you off guard.

Your face falls as it happens again and Zećira pats you softly on the shoulder as she collects the ball.

"It doesn't matter if you miss a few," She says to you softly, brushing some hair out of your face," All that matters is if you try, okay? Always try your very best. It doesn't matter if it goes in, just as long as you try.

You nod.

"Ready to go again?"

"Ready!"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #zecira musovic x reader #zecira musovic #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

[wosowrites]

Collision Madness ( Mapi Leon x Reader )

Warnings: ⚠️mentions of blood, swearing, slight smut implication, teeny bit of playful grop!ng⚠️

A/N: this is my first ever fic! I hope you enjoy it :)

Prompt: In which Mapi and the reader are secretly dating, and both play for Barcelona. During a game against Real Madrid, the reader gets into a nasty collision with the goal post after being pushed into it during a corner. Mapi gets extremely protective and angry, earning herself a red card.

"Earth to y/n!" The barcelona captain says to her star striker, waving her hand in front of y/n’s face. The canadian stays zoned out, watching closely one of the two doors in the locker room. The one she was staring at intensely being the door leading to the medical examiner’s room.

"Y/n…" a certain tattooed blonde says gently, placing her hand on the younger girls back. This grabs the girls attention, making her neck snap towards Mapi. "Hmm? Shit. I’m sorry, I just- I feel weird." Y/n admits to her team, who share worried glances. "Pre game nerves are normal y/l/n, but it’s just a regular season game. We’ve got this ladies." Alexia says, thinking little of the strikers strange mood. "Yeah. You’re right. Let’s go get 'em, eh?" Y/n says, standing up and trying to shake off her un easy feeling.

Her canadian accent had slipped out unknowingly, the accent Mapi secretly loved so much. "Let’s get them!" Lucy echoed. The girls all cheered and started to leave the changing room. However y/n hung back, and Mapi, who had noticed the lack of her girl beside her, doubled back and walked back into the changing room. "You don’t look too god, mi amor." Mapi said, whispering the pet name too make sure nobody over heard. "That’s not too nice, León. I’ll show you just how good I look when we’re out on that field. And if you’re good, maybe tonight?" Y/n said, fake confidence pouring out of her.

Mapi blushed furiously at the younger girls comment, willing herself to be good. Y/n’s fake courage had managed to trick Mapi, because all the number four defender had on her mind now, was the night to come. While the striker, wearing the number 29, felt as though something was about to go horrifically wrong.

———

"Keira!" Y/n yelled out to the midfielder, finding herself perfectly placed in the box with only a defender and the Real Madrid keeper around her. The lioness looked up, and sent a wonder ball towards her striker. Y/n jumped, hoping to get a head on it, but the defender flicked it away, and out for a corner.

"Maudit!" Y/n sweared in french, the Canadian pouring out of her for the second time today. "No sweat y/n/n," Alexia said, tapping her on the back. "Let’s get this one in!" The captain added. Y/n positioned herself in front of the keeper, doing her job as a striker. Just as she saw Keira kick the ball, she felt a pair of gloved hands on her back, pushing her forward. Hard.

Everything happened quickly, first the sensation of hands on her back, then the feeling of her head smashing against the white goal post. She felt her body hit the ground, then the warm, thick blood, falling down her face, getting caught in her hair, on her eyelashes, clouding the vision in her right eye. It didn’t cloud her hearing though, and what she could hear was loud, angry insults being screamed. Coming from the one and only, María Pilar León.

Y/n felt tears pool in her eyes, hearing the more calming voice of Lucy Bronze, Ingrid Engen, Keira Walsh, and Alexia Putellas in her ear. She couldn’t help it. Her whole life she’s hated blood, and in this moment, it felt as though it was all over her, and all she wanted was her girlfriend, but Mapi was too busy yelling to even check on y/n. "Get it off, get it off." Y/n moaned in pain. "Shh shh, it’s okay. The medics are here." Alexia said gently, seemingly ushering people away from the bloody striker. "I want Maps, tell her to stop or she’ll get sent off." Y/n groaned, feeling the pressure of a towel on her cut.

Alexia looked over, only to see the ref pull out a red, and the look of anger on Mapi’s face turning into realization that she had just got sent off the field instead of going to go see her injured girlfriend who was lying on the floor, tears and blood coating her face. "It’s too late for that…" Ale said, turning her attention back to y/n. "What? God she’s so stupid, Lex." Y/n said angrily, rolling her eyes as more tears streamed out of them. "She just loves you." Alexia said gently. "She’s my girlfriend. She should have come seen me."

It had just slipped out. Mapi and y/n had only been dating for six months, and they weren’t ready to tell anyone. They both agreed on that. But in y/n’s dazed and pained state, the words had slipped out. However Alexia had no time to question the use of y/n’s words because soon enough, the medics had finished to wrap her head in gauze, and the canadian striker was being lifted to her feet by the medical team. Camp Nou roared with applause for their beloved number 29. But y/n had eyes only for the blonde defender that had just disappeared into the tunnel.

Y/n got pats on the back from both her team, and the Real Madrid girls, even getting a few apologies from them, trying to excuse their keeper. But she didn’t care, she just wanted to be with Mapi. Somehow, she wanted to comfort her girlfriend, even though the world was spinning and her jersey was crimson with blood, Mapi León was forever the only thing on y/n y/l/n’s mind.

When the striker was off the field, Jonatan came over to her. "Their keeper is mad, she only got a yellow for that? You could have been knocked out clean." He said, eyeing Misa angrily. "Mhm." Y/n said simply, looking towards the tunnel. Jonatan then adresses the medics. "You’ll do a concussion check?" He asked. The medics responded that yes, they would, but y/n had long forgotten them, and was instead heading towards the tunnel. "Will you guys give me 10 minutes? I need to talk to María" Y/n said. Jonatan and the medics nodded, and the canadian international hurriedly headed towards the changing rooms.

"Maps?" Y/n said tentatively, pushing open the door gently. Surely enough. Mapi was sitting at her cubby, her head between her hands. But at the sight of her girlfriend, the defender jumped to her feet. At first Mapi looked mad, as though she was about to start yelling again. But then her eyes welled up and she rushed towards y/n.

Mapi and y/n’s lips locked. The defenders hands roaming all over her girlfriends body. Suddenly, y/n felt overjoyed that she had asked the medical team for ten minutes alone with Mapi. But as y/n slipped her hands under her girlfriends shirt, moaning slightly at the feeling of her toned abs, Mapi pulled away. "Baby…" Y/n whimpered.

"I want too. A lot. But not right now. I need to apologize." Mapi started saying. "I don’t want you to apologize, I want you to kiss me. Look at me-" Y/n said, pointing to her bandaged forehead. "-Kiss it better?"

"Yes. But no. I should have gone straight to you mi amor. But I got scared, I saw you like that on the grass and it was like an alarm went off in my brain and suddenly I was on defence mode and- and I’m sorry." Mapi ranted. "I don’t want to loose you."

"Hey, hey don’t talk about loosing me. I’m right here." Y/n said, grabbing the spaniards hand and placing it over her heart. "I’m not going anywhere."

Mapi and y/n shared the moment for a couple seconds, before the defenders hand slipped down and squeezed her breast lightly. "Mapi!" Y/n laughed, pressing her body against the blonde and kissing her quickly. "I need to get checked by the medics. Oh and, by the way, i accidentally told Ale you’re my girlfriend. I love you! Bye!"

#alexia putellas #mapi leon #maría león #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

[wheatstone-bridge]

Mackenzie gets injured during the quarter-final versus France.

The atmosphere was tense. It was nil all at the 90th minute. Tackles were becoming reckless. Australia had a free kick in the final third.

The French defence set up on the edge of their box, marking the Australian attackers. The only person not in the final third is Mackenzie, who is on the half way line.

Caitlin is the free kick taker. The free kick is off to the left side of the pitch. To tight of an angle for a shot, but perfect for a cross into the box.

Caitlin takes the free, a powerful one aimed towards the back of the box. The ball heads towards Sam's head, who manages to get a strong head towards the goal.

It gets saved by the keeper. Who manages to catch it. France quickly goes on the counter attack. As the Australians work to get back. The ball is rolled out to Sakina who takes it and runs. Bacha and Sakina pass the ball between each other around he Australians.

Mackenzie runs to get back to the goal. The French get through the Australian midfield and are now faced with the defence. Mackenzie gets herself settled in goal and watches the play unfold.

The ball is played through to Sommer who manages to get behind the defence. Now in a one vs one against her, Mackenzie comes out to protect the goal.

Summer takes a bad touch and the ball gets away from her and into the box. Mackenzie goes and dives for the ball. She gathers the ball in her arms. However Sommer also went to get the ball.

Mackenzie felt pain erupt across her face. She cried out from it and let go of the ball. She brought a hand up to her face, grazing one of the painful areas, only to pull it back with a hiss of pain. Mackenzie looked at the hand and say blood covering her glove.

She lied still looking at the glove. In shock at the sight. Mackenzie is broken away from her thoughts by Alanna.

Alanna ran over to mackenzie when she screamed. When she arrived she had to stop at the sight of blood. She snapped herself out of it and crouched down beside Mackenzie.

She put a hand on the back of Mackenzies head and got her on her back.

"Macca, can you hear me?"

The goalkeeper looked her in confusion. "Alanna... wha..."

Despite the blood on her face, Allanna moved her hand to cup her cheek. "Its gonna be okay. Don't worry about a thing. I've got you." She says to her. In the corner of her eyes she sees the medics coming over.

"The docs are coming over now. They're gonna take good care of you." She tells her. Alanna is speaking loudly so that Mackenzie can hear her over the noise of the crowd and players.

The medics came over and started their work. Alanna tried to stick by Mackenzie, but was finding it difficult. Eventually one of the medics, Sarah, turned to her.

"We have things under control here. What you need to do is to stop them from fighting the French player." She told Alanna calmly while pointing off towards the goal.

Alanna turned around to see Caitlin yelling at Sommer, who was getting backed into a corner. Alanna rushed over to push them away. "Caitlin, back off, get away!" She tells them.

"SHE HURT MACCA!" Caitlin shouted furiously. She was red in the face. Whether it be from the running or rage, Alanna did not know. "I know, Cait, I know. But right now, we need to be calm." She sooths, placing her hands on Caitlins' shoulders.

"How can I be calm when Macca is lying on the ground, getting treated by medics." Caitlin seethe with tears in her eyes. Alanna didn't know how much Caitlin saw, but she knew she saw the worst of it.

"We need to be calm for Macca. The last thing she needs from you is this anger. She needs her friend. Her sister in all but blood. She needs you to be there for her."

Alanna moved away from Caitlin. She turned her back to her and started to head back over to Mackenzie. She saw Sommer walking off the pitch with the ref holding a red card in her hand.

The medics were preparing her to be moved onto the stretcher. Alanna went to kneel beside Mackenzies head. She paused for a moment to take in the sight. Mackenzies right side of her face was covered in bandages. Dried blood was surrounding the bandages, with small streams of it running down her neck, from the bleeding.

The medics surrounded her, and lifted her onto the stretcher. The strapped her in and began to leave. Lydia came onto the pitch as Mackenzie left. When she passed Mackenzie they exchanged a couple words. When Lydia got settled in the goal, the game was restarted.

-------‐--------------------------‐-‐----------------‐‐--‐-----------

The final wistle blew, thus ending the quarter final. In the 96th minute, Sam had scored from a corner. The girls celebrated and went around to greet the crowd.

Then Tony called them in together for a post match huddle. He gave his congratulations to each player. Tells them to enjoy the night, but not to enjoy it too much. They broke the huddle and slowly started to go off the pitch.

Alanna and Caitlin split off from the rest of the squad. They headed down the tunnel and towards the medical room. They were located down the hall from the dressing rooms.

Caitlin knocked on the door and waited for an answer. Alanna stood next to her anxiously. They heard a voice from inside saying, "enter."

They opened the door and entered the room. Mackenzie was sitting on a chair with her phone in hand. She was holding a damp cloth in her other hand. She used the phone as a mirror and was wiping the blood off of her neck.

Mackenzie smiled at them as they entered. Bandages covered her left cheek, with them going up to the temple. "Hey guys, how are ye?"

They quickly rushed over to Mackenzie, going either side of her. "How are we?" Caitlin exclaimed. "We're not the ones who got their face banged up!" She continued.

"The real question is how are you?" Alanna cut off Caitlin. Mackenzie shrugged, "Got a concussion. That's the worst of it." She commented. "Then what's with all the bandages?" Caitlin inquired. "To cover up the cuts, I have a couple of stitches in there as well."

Alanna grabbed Mackenzies face to get a proper look at her face. "Doesn't look too bad." She tells her. Alanna turns to Caitlin. "But I think we need to keep her close by tonight."

Caitlin nods in agreement. "Agreed. Can't let her be alone for too long." They start to discuss their plans.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Mackenzie cuts in. She looks between them, unsure of what exactly was happening.

"No." They replied in sinc.

They finished their plans and dragged Mackenzie around the place. Before they brought her to their room and forced her to relax there for the night.

#mackenzie arnold #alanna kennedy #caitlin foord #woso imagine

[football-and-fanfics]

The injury, part 1 - Trent Alexander Arnold & Alisson Becker

Who: Trent Alexander-Arnold, Alisson Becker Request: a fic based on the photos below, and Trent's injury vs. Arsenal. Warnings: mentions of injury and anxiety A/N: as I was writing this, it actually turned into a two-parter. The second chapter will drop either tomorrow or Tuesday (depending on me finding the time to type it out 😁)

Trent wasn't one to fake an injury, nor make theatrics for time-wasting purposes. He usually took the brunt of it, ground his teeth together, and got back up again. That was why Alisson immediately knew something was very wrong when Trent didn't get to his feet after a hard tackle on him. Alisson heard his teammate's initial yelp and following pained whimpers even over the noises of the crowd. His instinct told him to go check up on Trent at once, but the referee hadn't stopped play and Arsenal's attack was still very much alive, so Alisson had no choice but to stay put in his goal. From the corner of his eye, Alisson could see Trent lying curled up on the grass. He had to keep his focus on the game, but his heart screamed at him to go check on his obviously injured teammate. Finally, the referee blew his whistle and halted the match. Alisson immediately hurried over. Trent lay on his back by now, hands covering his face and taking rapid breaths. Each of his shuddering exhales was accompanied by a panicked, excruciated whimper. Alisson lowered himself onto one knee by Trent's side. He easily recognized the panic in Trent. The raw fear and pain were so very visible in Trent's trembling hands and breaths close to hyperventilation. "That bad?" Alisson rested a gloved hand on Trent's ribs. He didn't need to ask if Trent was alright, because he obviously was not. Trent nodded feebly under his hands covering his face. "It h-hurts so m-much..." His voice quivered.

The medical team had rushed over, too, and quickly turned their attention to Trent's injured ankle. One of them carefully wrapped his hands around the joint to stabilize it, but no matter how gentle and careful they were being, Trent still cried out in pain. "D--don't..." He gasped, choking slightly on his own erratic breathing. "Please... please, don't move it. It hurts too bad." Alisson still had his hand resting on Trent's heaving chest. He was well aware that Trent might completely lose it, if someone didn't do something fast. "Trent, look at me." Alisson gently pried Trent's hands away from his face. He hovered over his teammate, so Trent could only focus on him. "I know this is painful and hard to deal with, but you can do it. You need to take it easy, though." Trent slowly met Alisson's gaze. His dark, brown eyes held so much fear and pain that it actually left Alisson speechless for a moment. The fact that Trent was truly hyperventilating now, snapped Alisson back into action. "Deep breaths, mate," he guided, "calm down. I know it feels impossible, but try not to lose control." He moved a hand to rest on the top of Trent's head, the keeper's gloves cupping all of his teammate's dreadlocks. It was the movement that finally made Alisson get through to Trent. Trent took a shuddering, whimpering breath, before his breathing fell back into an easier, calmer rhythm. Alisson didn't move. Afraid he might disturb Trent's delicate control over himself, Alisson remained as he sat. "That's it, you're doing great," he continued to sooth. He could easily see Trent's line between somewhat calm and full-blown panic was still wafer-thin, and he wouldn't allow the young Scouser to fall into a panic again. "Trent?" The medic tried to catch Trent's attention. Alisson moved, allowing Trent to slowly sit up and talk to the medic. He kept a watchful eye, though, and remained close by. "I don't think you broke it," the medic started, "but I do think you thoroughly overstretched something." Trent vigorously shook his head. "I don't care what you have to do, but I have to continue. I'll play through the pain." The medic frowned. "I have to strongly advice against that." "Noted," Trent answered, "but I'm not following up on that advice. I'm not getting substituted." Alisson caught Trent's words, and lowered himself onto his haunches again. "Trent, are you sure? This sounds like it could be a serious injury." "I can do it." Trent winced loudly as the medic sprayed a generous amount of icing spray onto his ankle. "I'm not giving up." "No one is saying you're giving up," Alisson tried one last time, "are you really sure about this?" Trent bit his lower lip, doing his best to deal with the pain and find a way for himself to push through it. "I'm sure." Alisson held out his hand, and carefully pulled Trent to his feet. In one fluent motion, he pulled Trent into a bear hug. He still felt Trent was making a bad decision in playing on, but there wasn't much he could do about that. "No one is asking you to torture yourself like this," Alisson spoke softly into Trent's ear, the words intended only for the young Scouser to hear. "You don't have anything to prove to us. You know that, right?" "I know." Trent wrapped his arms tightly around Alisson's tall frame. "Thanks for being there for me just now, Ali." "Just look out for yourself, okay?" Alisson gently patted Trent's back. "And you looked like you needed a bit of support back there." Trent chuckled wearily. "I definitely did."

Part 2 coming either tomorrow or Tuesday! 😇 Tags: @evie-pr, @auawdo, @meteora-fc, @de-geas, @stonesyyyy, @drizzyreese, @hbstre, @liverpoolfanfiction, @sternennebel2001, @scuderiavettcl Trent tags: @footballffbarbiex, @sanchoj7 PL tags: @ella33 Liverpool tags: @candlelitutopia Add me to the tags list, too! For more of my TAA imagines, click here For more of my Alisson imagines, click here General masterlist

#trent alexander arnold #alisson becker #trent alexander arnold imagine #alisson becker imagine #trent alexander arnold blurb #alisson becker blurb #trent alexander arnold fanfic #alisson becker fanfic #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #alisson becker fanfiction #football imagine #football blurb #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction #footballandfanficstrentaa #footballandfanficsalissonbecker

[ren-c-leyn]

The Shackles of Time Chapter Two - So You Want to be Adventurers: Part 1

 Here’s chapter 2! ^^ This is the start of the interviews for our three adventurer hopefuls. We also get to learn a little bit more about why each of them want to join the Dawn Isle Guild.

 It’s a little shy of 2,700 words. There’s a mention of death in passing, but nothing graphic or any direct details about the event. Beyond that, I can’t think of any trigger warnings for this chapter. There’s no violence, yet, or swearing or anything of that nature.

 And with that, happy reading!

 The crowd parted in two great tides. One surging forward to greet their returning sword master, and the other to attend to whatever business they had inside the guild hall. Arlen pushed forward, moving with the crowd. Behind him, he could hear the heavy footfalls of Merle following. No doubt that Night was close on their heels, if not already ahead of him. He didn’t look back to see, though. Excitement and adrenaline rushed through his veins, narrowing his focus to what lay ahead.

 This was it, this was the moment he had dreamed of for what felt like ages. He was about to meet his idol’s right hand man, the warrior that had helped the legendary Time Keeper cut their way through countless bloody battles. A man who took down one of the great fiends in single combat. A man who would determine the course of Arlen’s life this day. The Frostblade.

 You should temper your excitement, a voice rang in his mind as he continued to wade through the crowd, someone could easily throw you out on your ear if you get too far ahead of yourself.

 Our ears, you mean, or did you forget we’re bound?

 I have no ears. The small dragon-like creature raised his head, as though to illustrate the point.

 Clever, but the point remains.

 This is your goal, not mine. I was perfectly content at the Broken Tower. Prey, warmth, safety. All of the things you abandoned.

 It was hollow, at best, Cherrenth. Safety, warmth and food was plentiful, yes, but we were rotting inside.

 There was a small snort, like the beginnings of laughter as the small creature laid his head down on Arlen’s shoulder once again.

 You sound like a human. Always in a rush, never stopping.

 Just because we can spend hundreds of years in pleasant complacency doesn’t mean I wish to, nor have to.

 You will not live that long by jumping head first into trouble, Arlen of The Broken Tower.

 But you would find me so terribly dull if I didn’t.

 Another snort.

 You’d be more dull dead.

 I won’t die.

 We all die.

 Not if we leave our legend behind.

 You really do sound like a human.

 Arlen shook his head as they passed the threshold of the entryway and into the morning light. The crowd formed a semi-circle just beyond the door, blocking his view. He moved around, as much as he was able. Slipping around people, standing on his toes, and leaning precariously from one side to the other, trying to get a glimpse of the living legend; one of the fourteen whom stood against the Mad God. One of the six who survived.

 “Settle yourself,” Night’s voice rang out from beside him.

 No matter how many times it happened, it never stopped making Arlen nearly jump out of his skin. He spun to face her, eyes wide and muscles tense, while she stared back with that impassive, unreadable expression she always wore. It was as colorless as her.

 “We will see him soon enough,” she continued, voice flowing smoothly with an eerie calm. “He has to assess our skills, after all. It is his duty.”

 The shade-kin woman is right, you know, Cherrenth’s voice called out in his mind.

 Arlen’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

 “Yes... yes, I suppose you’re right.”

 A large, gloved hand clasped onto his slender shoulder. He glanced back to Merle. She offered a confident smirk.

 “Don’t worry, we’ll get out chance to show the Frostblade what we’re capable of soon, and be well on our way to starting our own legends!”

 Straightening himself back up, Arlen grinned back. Her enthusiasm, despite the exhaustion ringing in her voice, rekindled his own.

“Yes, yes we will.”

 “I was wondering when you’d get back,” Cassandra’s voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. “It’s good to see you again, Wyn.”

 “And you as well, Cassandra,” an unseen figure spoke with a soft voice and melodic accent.

 The crowd began to part as a pale, snow elf man in an elegant set of armor approached. His long, snow-white hair and deep blue cloak fluttered behind him as his light, frosted purple eyes remained fixed on Cassandra. He glided down the path until he stood before her. The pair shared wide grins, like children reunited with their best friends. He tapped the pummel of his blade before putting his hand to his collarbone in greeting.

 “I trust all has been well in my absence? No brooms broken over thick skulls or guild members fleeing the hall in terror after making a mess?”

 She grinned mischievously at the teasing.

 “Even if there was, you’d be hard pressed to find someone brave enough to speak of it.” Her smile softened once more. “All has been well. No causalities, no missing members, and no raids on the hall. In fact,” her eyes locked onto Arlen, Merle, and Night, “we have three new applicants who’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

 “Oh?” he followed her gaze, having no trouble finding the new comers among the familiar faces.

 In that moment, Arlen realized that everyone else had also begun to stare at them. He glanced around at the members, wearing grins or looks of sympathy. Something told him that the interviewing process wouldn’t be an easy one.

 “Well, might as well get started, then.”

 “Scared to talk to the guild master about how your errands went?” Cassandra teased.

 He waved his hand dismissively.

 “Never, and it’s not as though my news is urgent. It would be more efficient to deliver the interview findings and the report at the same time instead of making them wait longer and then bothering the guild master a second time.”

 She laughed lightly.

 “What would this guild do without you and your love of efficiency?”

 “Drive you even more insane with muddy feet on your clean floors, I’d wager,” he replied with a smile and a light tap to her shoulder before approaching the new comers.

 The warmth in his expression and body language fled as he came to a stop just out of arm’s reach of them. He gazed at each of them with a deathly seriousness that stole Arlen’s complete attention.

 “I will warn you now, this is not a profession that can be taken lightly. You will face death, you will face her repeatedly in all of her forms, and there is a good chance she will either claim you or force you to witness her claim someone else. We do our best to rank jobs and members appropriately to reduce this, but these things are unpredictable. What sounds simple can be sinister, what sounds sinister may prove simple, some things will simply be out of your skill set regardless of how difficult or easy they may be for another. You will see the worst in this world, you will see things so terrible they will haunt you to your grave and beyond.” His eyes clouded for a brief moment, though his speech did not pause. “Deaths, dark deeds, monsters, and things that will make your nightmares look like flower fields. Knowing this, do you still wish to walk this path? Do you wish to become adventurers?”

 “I am no stranger to Death,” Merle answered, tone sober. “She will claim me when she’s ready, but until she does I wish to prove my valor.”

 Wyndulin’s eyes landed on her. They narrowed ever so slightly.

 “Ah, yes, a reckless one,” he spoke with a disapproving edge. “I suspect you answer with a clouded mind. When did you last sleep?”

 Merle flashed a sheepish smile, though the sparkle of excitement didn’t dim at all by the scolding.

 “The day before yesterday. I traveled through the night to get here. I was too close to my goal to stop.”

 He sighed in a long suffering manner which reminded Arlen of his mentor.

 “And blinded to the danger. If you do not care for your body, your body will not care for you in battle. How do you expect to show your potential when you have not properly taken care of yourself? A small mistake is all it takes to lose your life, and your chance. Do you truly believe you can prove your valor in that state, icestrider?”

 She banged her fist on her chest.

 “I can, and I will,” Merle answered with fierce confidence.

 He hummed.

 “And why have you come here to prove your valor? Why not hunt with the Howling Ice guild?”

 Her expression flashed with that same anger she had shown when Night brought up the guild.

 “There is not valor there,” she growled, “only bloodshed and filthy gold.”

 Arlen swore, for the briefest moment, that there was a slight smirk on Wyndulin’s face at those words, but he blinked and his expression was stern again. Had it been there, or was it a trick of his imagination? Before he could contemplate it, Wyndulin addressed Night.

 “And you, shade-kin? We are a long mile from The Fel.”

 “I, too, am well acquainted with Death,” Night spoke, a whisper of emotion on her breath, “looked her in the eye as she claimed another and promised to return for me. I have met her many times before and after, but that meeting is why I am here. It was pointless,” she declared firmly. “It did not need to be, should not have been, and yet it was. So I have come. Come to prevent her from claiming others whose time is not yet through. There are few places to do that in The Fel.”

 “And if you fail in this task? If you witness her claim another whose time has not come, what shall you do?”

 “Try again. What else is there?”

 He dipped his head in a nod before finally looking Arlen in the eye.

 “Moon-kin, it has been some time since I have met one of my cousins from the great towers. Why do you venture out from the ivory walls?”

 “To live.”

 Wyndulin raised his eyebrows.

 “And yet you throw yourself into danger.”

 “I did not say to survive,” Arlen replied as Cherrenth sighed, “I said live. There is, in my opinion, an important difference. One that my kin do not seem to comprehend. I could survive for centuries in the Broken Tower, this is true, but it would be hollow. A death of slow rot and stagnation. No, I’d rather put my talents to use and live, even if it is for a shorter time.”

 He gave a nod before looking each of them over again, flashing Merle another disapproving stare, before nodding.

 “Very well. I hope you three know what you are getting yourselves into as much as you seem to believe. Training yard in five minutes. Be prepared.”

 Merle grinned. Arlen had no doubt the thought of sparing against the legendary swordsman had lit a fire in her. She nearly sprinted to go collect her things. Night, on the other end of things, walked as though this were any other day. After hearing her tale, Arlen wondered if it might as well be. He, for his part, was somewhere between the two, literally. He trotted down the halls. Not fast enough to be running, but quick enough to betray his own excitement... and find Merle wandering through the halls, looking every which direction.

 “It’s this way, Miss Merle,” he offered as he turned the correct way.

 She paused before scurrying to catch up with him.

 “This place is confusing....”

 “It makes more sense when you’ve slept,” he teased with a small smirk.

 She rolled her eyes but grinned. Nothing would dampen her spirits now. He led the way to the guest quarters where the trio prepared themselves for battle. This was it, the moment of truth. The moment that would shape the rest of their destinies.

 They walked together. No words were exchanged, but Arlen felt a solidarity growing with each step. The three of them were in this together now. Funny, how a shared goal could grow fondness between strangers. He wondered if these two would become his guild-mates today. Wondered if they would be here to help lick each other’s wounds if they all failed to meet Wyndulin’s expectations, or would they all scatter to the winds immediately, never to meet again? Would he have to return to the tower, alone and shamed after all of the long miles and hardships it took to get here? The battles fought and obsessive training he put himself through? Sweat began to bead on his palms as he tightened his grip on his staff. Had it been enough?

 You’re over thinking, again.

 That’s very helpful, Cherrenth, he replied sarcastically.

 A snort echoed in his ear as the small dragon raised his iridescent head to stare flatly at Arlen.

 Stop worrying and focus on what is to be done now instead of what could be later. If you look too far forward into the future, the present will kick you in the gut. There was a meaningful pause before a wicked smile pulled onto Cherrenth’s scaled lips, revealing rows of pointed teeth. Or bite your ear off, if you get too sassy, he teased playfully.

 Arlen sighed, shoulders slumping.

 You’re right.... I’m sorry.

 Cherrenth laid back down.

 You can make it up to me with more of those sausages we had at breakfast tomorrow, when you’re an official member.

 He smiled at his familiar’s request. It was reassuring to know that, despite his misgivings and grumblings about leaving the tower, Cherrenth believed in him. Believed he could do this, that he would do this. And Arlen intended to prove him right. He wasn’t going to return to the Broken Tower in defeat.

 A smile pulled itself onto his face as they stepped into the training yard. Dozens of people were gathered around the fenced off perimeter. They chatted excitedly among themselves. Some groups were pulling out coin pouches and piling them together. They were betting on the odds, he guessed.

 He turned his gaze from the outer edges to the center of the training yard, where Wyndulin stood alone. His arms were crossed, expression unreadable as he watched them approach. The trio stood in a line before him, Arlen in the middle of the group, taking the brunt of the Frostblade’s famous piercing stare.

 ��We will now begin the second phase of the interviews. Grab the training equivalents of your weapons, if you use any. Do not fear using magic, there are wards in place to prevent accidents in the training ground.”

 Arlen released a long breath at that. He had no idea what he would have done if he couldn’t use magic.

 Die, probably, Cherrenth answered.

 Night and Merle walked to the racks, taking their time to check the lengths of various practice weapons and giving them test swings before returning to their places in the line with them. Merle, of course, had another spear. Deadly tip replaced with charcoal-coated cloth. Night, however, had a pair of dulled daggers. Not a common choice for fighters, Arlen noted, the range short and weight lacking. Yet, she seemed content with them. Well, as content as she ever seemed with anything.

 Wyndulin nodded.

 “Now, let us see what you three are made of,” he pulled his own practice blade out of the soft earth and raised it at them with a flourish, his eyes gaining an ominous, white glow to them.

 The trio instinctively backed up, fanning out. The air was growing colder by the second, almost making it hard to breathe. This was it, then, this was what a legend looked like. This was a man who fought a god and won.

 Merle gripped the spear and her shield tighter, face grim and focused. Night raised the pair of daggers, amber eyes fixed on Wyndulin’s blade. Arlen, for his part, raised his staff, breathing in deeply as he began to connect to the flow of magic. His heart was beating hard enough that he could hear it in his ears, feel it in his throat.

 “Begin!” Wyndulin shouted.

~

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#The Shackles of Time #my wips #my writing #fiction #fantasy #original story

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #37 (Bonus)

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: First bonus chapter! Quite some people asked me when Everett might get what he deserves. Well, here you go (finally)! Judith Harris belongs to @judediangelo75 , David Willows to @that-scouse-wizard and Katriona KC Cassiopeia – as always – to my wonderful wifey @kc-needs-coffee

Warning: The smallest mention of blood

Word Count: ~ 2.700

_________________________________

Bonus - Chapter 37: Doppelbeater Defense

Despite of the biting wind in her face as she whizzed through the air, Lizzie could feel a drop of sweat making its way down beneath her shoulder blades and along her spine. Ignoring the soft tickle, she gripped the Quaffle tighter and held it to her body as she ducked beneath a Bludger send in her direction by Erika Rath and prepared to make her move.

Whipping her broomstick sideways at the last possible moment, she used the momentum to let go of the Quaffle and send it through the left one of the other team’s hoops. The Keeper had no chance to block her throw and she broke into a grin as the goalposts lit up for a moment, signalling her success to the crowd.

“Jameson scores for her team in an almost artistic manner!” Murphy reaffirmed only moments later. “Her choice of hoop came 68.5 % unexpected and left the Keeper with no chance to deflect the Quaffle in time.”

Her grin widened as she flew along the stands and let the whooping of the fans spur her on. Considering that they were only playing a friendly, the stands were packed. The Quidditch season was over and Hufflepuff the reigning Quidditch champion; to let out some of the penned up energy, Orion and Rath had decided to organise a mixed match for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw teams. With the exams being almost over, a lot of their peers had found their way onto the scalding hot pitch today, just happy to escape the dusky shadows of the castle for a few hours.

In full flight, she held onto the handle of her broom before coming into a standing position as she surfed past her friends, raising her fist into the air. Lizzie had pretty much abandoned broom surfing for a long time, but had picked it up again this year; ever since she and Orion had started dating officially three weeks earlier, it had slowly but surely developed into her favourite way to celebrate a scored goal.

Sitting down, Lizzie made her way back into the middle of the pitch again. With a smile just as bright as her own, Orion came up beside her, visibly proud of both her goal and her skilled display of his favourite flying technique; he had taught it to her after all. He clapped his gloved hand on her shoulder and gave her the smallest wink. When the Quaffle re-entered the game, he smirked, turned around and was gone chasing after it.

Completely lost in thought, Lizzie stared after him. The place on her shoulder where his hand had rested only moments earlier, was still tingling and she felt her heart beat faster. She watched as he relieved Skye of the Quaffle with a laugh and a graceful swipe of his hand. Even though it had been some time since they had gotten together now, the thought that he was actually her boyfriend still felt surreal to her.

She was violently broken out of her dazed state when she saw a Bludger racing towards her at a ridiculous speed. It was aimed straight for her head and she only managed to duck out of it’s way at the last moment. She could feel the air move as it whizzed past her, her heart beating in her ears, this time from pure adrenaline. She let out a shaky breath; that had been a close one.

Straightening up again, she whipped her broomstick around and flew over to Everett, who had beat the iron sphere her way. He smirked at her flustered state as she came to a halt directly in front of him.

“Are you mad or what?” Lizzie snapped at him. “This is supposed to be a friendly! We don’t go for the head in a friendly!”

Unimpressed, Everett looked her up and down haughtily. “Shut it, Jameson, it’s your problem if your distracted.”

His sneer turned into a derogatory smirk as he continued, “You’d better focus, sunshine; we wouldn’t want that pretty face of yours smashed, would we? I guess, the captain would like you considerably less then. After all, there’s not much more to you than a halfway decent look.”

Her temper flaring for a moment, Lizzie had the strong urge to just push Everett of his broom and be done with it. Instead, she took a deep breath, grit her teeth and left him behind. Arguing with the sixth-year was no use; she knew it was his hurt pride speaking. He had been shooting snide remarks at her ever since she and Orion had become a couple. Letting him get under her skin was exactly what he wanted.

Even though she tried to ignore his comments, Everett was far from done with her. Every time she came close to him over the course of the match, he was shouting a new profanity at her, every new one worse than the last. After a while, despite her best efforts, his verbal attacks were distracting her so much she couldn’t concentrate on playing anymore.

Her passes were starting to get unprecise, her manoeuvres were failing more often than not. When she tried to bring the Quaffle past the opposing Keeper, her throw got blocked with ease. Annoyed with herself, Lizzie gave vent to her frustration with a scream and a hit against the handle of her Comet.

Her increasing anger didn’t go unnoticed by Orion. Hovering beside her, he was trying to centre her again with his calm, reassuring voice until Lizzie felt her rage melt away at the sight of his smile. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at him thankfully and returned into action by his side.

But Orion hadn’t been the only one to notice Everett’s constant slurs. Judith and Katriona, who was one of the Ravenclaws playing on Lizzie’s team, had already shared more than one eyeroll ever since Everett had started attacking their friend. All of them were sick and tired of his rudeness anyway, but his behaviour today was just downright disgusting.

When the Hufflepuff Beater made the mistake of sending a Bludger to the spot where both of them were hovering in the air, KC and Judith only needed to share a look between them to know what to do.

Anticipating the rotating Bludger with their bats raised and ready, they hit the Bludger both at the same time. It changed its course back to its sender with incredible speed, leaving Everett no time to dodge it. With an audible, ugly sounding crack it collided with his nose, blood spurting out of his nostrils as he dropped his bat and cried out in pain.

Murphy winced into his megaphone as the stands around him erupted into cheers. “Ouch, that must have hurt, ladies and gentlemen! Someone had better get Madam Pomfrey to take a look at this, there’s a 98.6 % chance of a really nasty bruise.”

The laughter in Murphy’s clear voice was very badly hidden and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. “But all jokes aside, the only thing more fabulous than this perfect display of one of the most challenging Beater manoeuvres known to any skilled Quidditch strategist is the sheer perfection of the two players conducting it! With Harris’s unmatched strength and Cassiopeia’s unrivalled technique, the Tigress and Ravenclaw’s rising star effectively knock Everett out of the game, giving their team a considerable advantage.”

It was true; Everett had clapped his hands in front of his face and was in no state to stay on his broomstick much longer, let alone continue playing. His eyes shot daggers at them through his fingers, Judith glaring back and KC only shrugging it off nonchalantly; he’d had it coming after all.

*

Luckily for all of them, the Snitch had been caught pretty quickly after KC and Judith had broken Everett’s nose, leaving no room for more injuries, accidental or no.

Being a member of his original team, Orion had insisted on escorting Everett to the Hospital Wing, however impossible he might have acted. Madam Pomfrey had been busy when they had arrived, so her assistant had taken care of him. Her healing spells were usually impeccable, but today she claimed she had been distracted by a nasty headache. Lizzie suspected very much she hadn’t been distracted at all. They had left a cursing and ranting Everett to her further care and had made their way to the Great Hall.

With one more exam still ahead of them, Murphy and Orion had separated from the rest of the team to go over their notes together, while Judith, KC and Lizzie had found seats at the Hufflepuff table.

They were chatting about the match, the Charms exam taking place in two days’ time and the prospect of new players come next season. While KC was enjoying the prospect of fresh blood, both Lizzie and Judith were sighing at the idea of having to spend another year with Everett on their team.

“You know, David Willows could step up,” Judith suggested between two bites of her dinner. “He’d fit the team so much better than that airhead.”

Lizzie tilted her head. “I thought he was stuck in detention forever.”

“Only for the whole year, next year he should be free again,” Judith shrugged, “if he doesn’t do any more stupid stunts, that is.”

“Any more stupid stunts and get caught, you mean,” KC added with a smirk.

Judith laughed. “Naturally.”

Her golden eyes wandered from her friends’ faces to something in Lizzie’s back and one of her eyebrows arched in dismay. “Speaking of the devil…”

Lizzie turned around to see Everett stomping their way. His face was looking truly dreadful; his nose was hidden under a thick bandage and the skin around it red and bruised. The proportions of his usually not unattractive face were oddly contorted by the swelling. What was visible of the rest of his face was screaming murder as he approached them.

He drew himself up to his full height as he stared down at the three girls. He would have looked threatening had his broken nose not made quiet wheezing noises every time he breathed.

“Look what you did to my face,” he snarled at them through gritted teeth, his fists shaking with rage. “This is all your fault! That incompetent amateur of a healer said my nose might not go back to the way it was before! You’ll answer for this!”

Lizzie shifted uncomfortably in her seat under his glare. She was honestly sick of him and his attitude and wished he would just leave them in peace; she’d had her share of insults for the day and was too tired to get into a fight.

Judith and KC, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share her notion. Judith looked him up and down, her muscular arms crossed in front of her chest, while KC’s eyes never left him. She took a deliberately slow sip of her coffee.

“I don’t see your problem,” she answered coolly after setting her mug back down. “How did you put it? It’s your fault if you’re distracted.”

She turned her attention to her fingernails, as if the sheer presence of the seething Hufflepuff Beater was boring her out of her mind.

“Look at it that way: a crooked nose might suit you after all,” she continued. “I heard it gives people more character; Godric knows you’d need that.”

Despite herself, Lizzie had to snort into her cup of pumpkin juice at KC’s words. This turned out to be a mistake, however, when Everett turned all his attention on her.

He stepped forward, right into Lizzie’s personal space. He was effectively towering over her with no chance for her to get away as he bend down to hiss into her face.

“I have no idea what’s so funny about that, Jameson. Only because you’re shagging the captain doesn’t mean you’re special in any way. Harming your teammate intentionally is against the rules, I’ll have you and Harris kicked off the team. You’ll regret this!”

He abruptly straightened himself up and began striding away, head held high, not even sparing them another glance. If he had, he had probably seen KC turning and sneakily sticking her foot out. He caught on it and swayed for a moment before he tipped over and landed face down onto the floor with a resounding bang. He screamed and Lizzie was sure to hear the crunch deformed bones for a second time that day.

Everett turned around, staring up at them with pain and hate edged onto his face. He opened his mouth to say something but there was nothing coming out of it but a loud, high pitched whine.

Not impressed in the slightest, KC rose from her seat and set a foot on Everett’s chest to prevent him from getting up. Bending down, her long, strawberry blonde curls almost grazing his face, she locked eyes with him. There was a fury burning in her blue eyes that made him go cold on the inside.

“You’re right, harming your teammates is against the rules – good thing you aren’t one of mine,” she hissed at him.

She slightly increased the pressure of her foot on his chest. “So, if I hear one more word about our lovely Lizzie or my fantastic friend Orion coming from your filthy mouth ever again, be sure to know that the next Bludger will be aimed lower – a lot lower.”

A confident smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Consider this a warning; according to Murphy I have a pretty good accuracy of 97.8 %.”

Everett made a strangled sound as KC stepped over him, applying her full weight onto his body for a moment. Judith followed her, driving the point home by tapping her Beater’s bat on his chest as she walked by with a hard stare.

KC turned her head and looked down at him; she might as well have looked at a cockroach.

“On a sidenote,” she added, suddenly sounding very sweet, “I heard the N.E.W.T.s are pretty tough to prepare for. Maybe you might want to reconsider returning to the Hufflepuff team next year. Don’t you worry about your position, we know just the replacement for you.”

“You’re bright spirit will be missed, but I think we’ll get over it,” Judith agreed with a satisfied smirk.

Everett’s gaze flicked from one to the other; if Lizzie didn’t know any better, she’d say he was actually scared of her friends.

When KC and Judith turned around to walk away, he muttered a curse under his breath, prompting the redheaded Ravenclaw to turn around again.

“What was that?”

All defiance lost, Everett cowered in on himself. “Nothing.”

“Good.”

KC’s eyes rose to Lizzie, who was still sitting at the table, staring at the scene unfolding in front of her. “Liz, are you coming?”

Lizzie snapped out of it, got up and didn’t miss out on stepping over Everett herself, a big grin on her face. Judith and KC both flanked her, linking arms with each other as they marched her out of the Great Hall.

“Godric, did you see his face?” Lizzie chuckled as soon as they were out of earshot. “He’s going to have nightmares, I bet.”

Turned more serious again, she glanced at KC. “But was that really necessary?”

“It was,” KC answered equally as serious. “He practically begged for this for a long time now.”

“I’d have done anything to not have to put up with him for another year,” Judith agreed wholeheartedly.

Lizzie laughed and pulled her friends closer as the three of them marched across the Entrance Hall in lockstep.

“Thanks girls, I appreciate it. Just do me the favour of reminding me to never ever cross my Beater Babes.”

#hphm #hogwats mystery #quidditch #lizzie jameson #katriona cassiopeia #judith harris #he's had it coming #never cross the beater babes #aob #art of balance

[fiddleabout]

so between this and this and this and this:

a thing happened.  idk.  i do weird things and iwill not be shamed for it.

This is it.  Last game of the season, last game of Alex’s college career, last game when she’s for sure going to play with her sister at her side and her best friend in the midfield.  Their last chance to bring home that elusive championship and the bragging rights that come with it.  

“It’s good,” Kara says quietly as Alex kneels down to tie her shoe, slapping her gloved hands together nervously.  “We’re good.  We got this.  They don’t even have the starting keeper, we can definitely–”

Alex pops up to her feet and levels an even stare at her sister, and Kara’s mouth snaps shut.

“We got this,” Alex echoes, nodding firmly and holding her firsts out for Kara to bump hers against twice, a familiar double-tap that calms Alex’s nervous heartbeat.  She tugs at her captain’s armband, fiddling with the uncomfortable fold of her sleeve under it, and jogs out to meet the ref and the other team’s captain.

The other team’s captain who towers over all of the officials and also Alex, taller even than Kara, a long glossy ponytail swishing over the number one emblazoned on her bright blue keeper’s jersey.  The other team’s captain, the replacement keeper, who Alex knows nothing about despite all of her studying of this team.  Some walk on or another who no one ever told Alex was incredibly hot.

She manages to make it through the coin toss and the handshakes without making a complete fool of herself.  Or she hopes so, at least.  They’ve got the kickoff and Sara’s already impatient to get started, and Alex sets off back to her team, her sister, the family she’s had for the last four years.  

They’re going to win this.

*

They might not win this.  

They’re holding the midfield well, passing circles around the other team, leaving Kara patrolling at the top of the box and acting more like a distributing center back than anything else as she feeds short passes out to Alex or launches high arcing ones deep into the other team’s half.  They’re playing well and forcing the defense wide, opening up spaces for Sara to run into time and again, but they just.  Can’t.  Score.

They hit halftime still at a scoreless tie, frustration evident in everyone’s posture and the coach’s eyes.  He pushes Alex up into the midfield and Sara out wide on the opposite side, setting them up to switch and counter from the wings.  Alex huffs out a frustrated breath as they take the field again, ready to get a ball into the back of the net and win this.  She wants this stupid championship and she wants it in the bag.

They start slow, holding the ball and dancing around the midfield.  Alex gets a few long switches in, launching the ball across the width of the field for Sara to run onto, and gets her legs used to running on the attack.  Lucy stays central and drives the ball up the center, slotting it over to Alex time and again for her to cross it in, but nothing is coming together.

Then it all magically does and suddenly, beautifully, there’s a ball flying towards Alex at the top corner of the box and she pivots and hammers it to the near post.  She can feel it going in, can feel the weight lifting off her shoulders as she falls with the momentum of the volley, because she hit it perfectly, because the keeper is halfway across the goal, because–

–The keeper launches herself towards the near post, stretching out a seemingly inhumanly long arm, and claws the ball out until it clicks off the post and out of bounds.  

Alex stands slowly, letting Lucy pull her up with a firm hand and a compliment to the shot, and doesn’t look away from where the keeper’s already back on her feet and directing her defense.  

She sets her jaw and trots over to the corner flag for the kick.  She’s going to score.

It’s another five minutes later and it happens again.  It’s a beautiful set up, Alex feeding a short pass across the top of the box to Zari, who flicks it on low and sharp to Sara, who lofts it back to where Alex is making the back post run and leaps as high as she can, nods it to the back post, comes back down to earth certain that by the time her feet hit the ground the ball will be in the back of the net.

Except that the keeper springs across the mouth of the goal, uncoiling like a spring and getting one hand out enough to knock the ball down.  It’s a scramble, Alex and a defender and the keeper all moving towards the ball, but the keeper gets one hand on it and then another and curls around it, tucking her head protectively and holding the ball tight.

Twice now.  Twice she’s been completely shut down by a backup keeper on absolutely perfect strikes.  Twice.

She trudges over to the corner flag again.  She just needs to keep shooting on frame.  No keeper can block every shot thrown her way.  

Two corner kicks and one offsides call go by and Alex pulls down a shoddy clearance and drives into the box, dodging one defender and then another and Sara’s making the run but she’s too far back, screened by a defender, and Alex slides left and opens her hips like she’s going to shoot to the far post and instead slides a textbook-perfect low shot to the near post, right where the keeper’s likely to miss it because it’s from just close enough that diving will be too slow and surely this one, finally, will–

–the keeper skids down on one knee and flings her other foot out, the ball deflecting off and up.  It plonks harmlessly on the top half of the crossbar and totters over onto the top of the netting.  Alex stands flat-footed just off the six yard line, staring dumbly at where one of the defenders is pulling the keeper back up to her feet.

Unbelievable.

*

They still can’t score through the first overtime, but less than a minute into the second one a defender already carrying a soft yellow from earlier is hit in the forearm in the box by a half-wiffed shot from Lucy.  It was on frame, but only just, and with no pace, but came from close enough that the defender had nowhere to put her arm.  It shouldn’t be a card, it really shouldn’t be– Alex knows it shouldn’t be– but the ref pulls the yellow out of her pocket, and then the red, and suddenly they have almost fifteen minutes to play with a one-woman advantage and also a penalty kick.

Alex steps up to take it, because she’s always kept a cool head under pressure.  She’s captain for a reason, and one of those reasons is that she can always make the good shot under pressure.

She slams it home, place low and into the corner, almost wide and on track to ping in off the inside of the post, and, of course, the keeper– she’d even started guessing the wrong way, only to claw herself back to the other side in a truly inhuman feat of agility– gets fingertips on it enough to push it wide.

Alex stands, dejected, as the ball rolls out of bounds and the other team swarms the keeper, and tries to push the frustration away. Lucy hugs her, short and sharp, and Sara as well, and she makes her way over to the corner again for yet another corner kick.

They end up winning, barely, their advantage in players lending assistance to the unlucky deflection off a shot and even the keeper, magnificent as she’s been the whole game, can’t get to it.  1-0.  

They have two minutes left in overtime, and they run the clock down.  They win, but barely.  It doesn’t feel as good as Alex wants it to, even when Kara picks her up and swings her around excitedly, because everything Alex did was shut down and turned away by one tall, gorgeous goalkeeper whose team lost but is still smiling, standing tall and catching a teammate who launches her way into the keeper’s arms.  The keeper catches her easily and holds her like a toddler and concern flashes through Alex when another player launches herself at the two of them, but the keeper just catches her too and holds them both, barely wavering under the weight of two full-grown athletes in her arms.

Oh.

Well.

She can almost put up with the frustration just to witness that.

*

College ends, and Alex is drafted to a professional team.  Kara’s still got another year left and as much as Alex had hoped she’d get drafted to a team close to their school, she winds up on the other side of the country, alone in a new city for the first time in her life.  None of her old teammates were drafted to the same time, and she sleeps on one of the trainers’ couches for a week before training starts, spending her days not in the gym or on the pitch wandering around the city looking at apartments.

Nothing comes up, of course.  She’s barely making minimum wage and big cities are expensive.  She doesn't’ want to live with anyone who isn’t her sister, but she can’t afford to live alone, and she finally gives in and accepts the trainer’s offer to hook her up with one of the other new players who’s looking for someone to fill the second bedroom in an apartment she found.  

Alex has barely any luggage to move in with, most of her clothes still in the apartment she and Kara had shared for the last three years, and she trudges up to the apartment that will be her home for the next year with little more than a backpack and two duffel bags and knocks on the door.

The door opens and Alex is faced with long glossy hair and a bright smile and familiar height, and drops her duffel bag.

“You!”

“Me– oh.  Hey,” she says, nose wrinkling. “You’re Alex, right?”

“I am,” Alex says slowly, still gaping up at the second string goalkeeper who’d blocked Alex’s every perfect shot.  

“Sam.”  She offers her hand for Alex to shake and then hauls Alex’s duffels into the apartment.  “Nice to meet you.  Officially, at least.”

“Officially,” Alex echoes. “You mean stopping every shot I had in the last game of my college career wasn’t official?”

Sam shrugs and kicks the door shut behind them.  “You tell me.”  She flashes another smile at Alex and hauls both duffel bags up easily, and Alex blinks back to the way she’d held two of her teammates like they weighed nothing.

Not that she’s attracted to her former nemesis/current roommate.  Not at all.

“The other bedroom’s this way,” Sam says, setting off past the tiny kitchen and small living room.  Alex stumbles after her, definitely not looking at her extremely long legs or the flex of muscles exposed by her gym shorts, or the way her skin moves smoothly over rippling lines of muscle in her shoulders.  Definitely not.

She’s in so much trouble.

#no i do not take constructive criticism on this night in the year of our lord 2019 #i will write my garbage and subject you all to it and you can't stop me #sam arias #alex danvers #supergirl #writing tag

[coreshorts]

Long Game Short

BANG!

A shot impacted the rock behind which sat crouched a red-headed woman in a suit and thick-heeled boots, her hair tied up into a tight bun. White gloves grasped a revolver, held ready, though she dared not poke her head out yet, hawkish, dark brown eyes closing tight against the subsequent wash of intense flame that exploded from the magicked bullet. The delay was intentional, the fair-skinned woman knew, intended to draw her from her cover prematurely; she knew better from her opponent.

The shot and the roar of the flames echoed off across the coast, momentarily drowning out the sound of the sea far below. The cliffs were hardly the best place for a duel, especially one of this magnitude, but that had, of course been the point: she was at a severe disadvantage, a single rock for cover and the cliffs to her back. The choices were to jump out into the line of fire or to take her own life by plunging down to the sand yalms below.

She feinted, uttering a spell as she drew a single card from her suit’s jacket pocket which was lined with arcane geometries, to produce an illusory duplicate of herself that stood and took aim. A shot rang out, as expected, and it whizzed through the head of the duplicate, right at the throat - exactly what she needed.

Nicole Sol, known more often as Nico, waited scarcely another moment before pulling back the hammer on her gilded black firearm and, whispering a command word, leaned up over the rock and fired a shot downrange. The bullet screamed as the geometries burned upon it by the revolver lit up, a white aethereal tracer cutting a line through the air toward a smaller cliff a short ways up the hill inland. 

Though her assailant had long since fallen prone, taking advantage of the higher ground, the bullet she fired was not meant to strike flesh, but the dirt and stone beneath. It struck true, indeed, several fulms below the grassy hilltop. However, unlike the previous shot that she had weathered behind her cover, this bore no delay, the bullet’s spell activating with a deafening sonic boom which tore through the earth with devastating concussive force.

There he was. Tora’ji Polaali, a miqo’te man with, Nico had known for years, an intense hatred for the woman, had sought to launch a surprise attack on her here to put an end to their rivalry once and for all. Nico had willingly walked into the trap, confident that she could emerge the victor. That confidence remained, even as a bead of sweat rolled down her temple. The rustle of the man’s white coat, its violet pattern of concentric circles like chains and its silver buckles, his short black hair and dark ashen features became visible with the destruction of the ground beneath him. However, as he dove away from the eruption of dirt and stone, the glint of those violet shades he’d always worn tipped Nico off to the fact that she’d been spotted again. With a quick motion, he slammed down the hammer of his own revolver, barked his own command word, and fired.

The resulting shot had Nico ducking for cover once more as the shot multiplied tenfold, a rain of ammunition impacting all around her. If she’d been a second later, she would’ve been riddled with wounds, the duplicated bullets fading and leaving her to bleed out. She had no intention of letting this happen, nor did it. Instead, she used the time that Tora’ji would use to try getting to cover himself to rush further uphill.

As she leapt out of her cover, however, another command word caught her attention, even as the heavy footfalls of the man’s dark-plated boots tore grass up behind him as he sprinted for a new place to hide. Nico recognised it immediately as a seeking shot, meant to curve toward her; the spell would make it much more likely to hit her while they ran.

With the selfsame command word spoken hastily, she pivoted, diving for the indentation in the hill that she had created, and fired a seeking shot of her own. With both bullets magicked to arc toward their targets, they came dangerously close, their seeking magic like opposed magnets, causing them to spiral out of control and create a temporary vortex of aethereal currents that, upon its expiry, left the projectiles falling harmlessly to the ground.

Though neither hit their mark, Tora’ji and Nico had both still achieved their goal in this instance, Tora’ji to find new cover and Nico to gain even ground. There was a long pause before, finally, the man’s youthful voice shouted across the silence to her.

“I know you came here knowing I’d ambush you, Sol,” he shouted, his tone strained and breath short, but still somewhat calm - the man was yet to lose his cool - despite the ongoing firefight, “Out here, though? That hubris won’t help you. You’re no Conservator. You’re a glorified bloody bodyguard for an airhead of a Philosopher.”

“So you’ve said countless times, Tora’ji,” Nico shot back, breathing heavily from the sprint, but otherwise unruffled, herself, “Do you have aught to say that might actually interest me, or can we continue trying to kill one another?”

The answer was another crack of the man’s revolver and a wash of flame that rendered the earth around her blackened and singed, devoid of its greenery. Thankfully, the cover held. The Conservator’s response was quick and ruthless, no command word spoken as she used the time to reload her revolver, leaning out of her cover again to fan the hammer of her revolver, firing six shots in rapid succession as the glint of her self-proclaimed rival’s sunglasses came around the corner of a larger rock just across the hill a ways. 

There was silence for a time after, during which Nico had ducked back into that hole in the cliff side. She had heard no response to the salvo - not of pain nor of retreat - and it gave her pause. Had he managed to anticipate her? There was no time to ponder, and so, instead, she decided to investigate the silence. Drawing the same card from before and conjuring another illusory duplicate that went sprinting out of her cover, she stomped her feet for the first few seconds of its flight, hoping to draw fire, back to the dirt and an ear open to listen.

In the next instant, she had her answer. However, it came in the form of another flame wave that hit at the feet of the duplicate as it fled, kicking up dirt and charred vegetation. Tora’ji had seemed to anticipate even the illusion, attempting to create a temporary disruption so that his flight further uphill, which had been silent until that point, would remain unimpeded. She hardly needed him poking out from over top of her, and so she fled, as well, using the man’s own distraction tactic to her advantage.

“Got you!” came the miqo’te’s voice, and, in the next moment, even as Nico took that queue to lunge out of the way, the blinding pain of a bullet impacted her right side, thankfully dampened by her suit’s enchantments and the armoured carbonweave vest beneath the jacket. It still hurt, though, causing her to stumble and gasp for breath, her ribs pounding with pain just for another bullet to soar past her head. The second shot would have hit her if she hadn’t partially-doubled over, and so, she pushed herself and kept running, pulling back the hammer on her revolver and firing blindly in the direction of Tora’ji’s voice to try and buy herself some time.

Whether by luck or some divine providence, she heard a hiss of pain at her fourth shot. Though the Keeper of the Moon that was gunning for her had similar protections, she managed to keep the score even, as it were, as she managed to make her way to the top of the hill, ducking behind a tree.

“You’re not gonna kill me with shots like that, Sol!” he snarled, pain evident in his voice. Had she wounded him enough to break his stride that much? She smirked a bit despite the continued pounding in her ribs. The bullet with which he’d struck her was still lodged in her suit jacket, and, much as it vexed her to allow it to remain, she let it; despite her commitment to her appearance, her life - and victory over a long-time thorn in her side - was far more important.

She didn’t respond to him, instead just using his taunts to keep tabs on him. He’d always been mouthy, and, as much as she and her partner, Odellia, enjoyed playful banter during confrontation to keep up morale, it was always simply too much, too melodramatic.

Silence ensued again, and, she determined, he was looking for her. She’d lost him. If she hadn’t, he’d have immolated her cover long ago. The tree wouldn’t last to such a blast at he’d prepared for her. Checking her remaining bullets in the pouch hidden beneath her jacket at her belt, she frowned. She’d only three shots left, not counting the two in her revolver. She loaded the remaining three in and took a long breath.

It was just as Tora’ji had planned. It was a long game he’d been playing. First, he’d separate her from Odellia, using the Philosopher’s errand to deliver her report to his advantage. While she was back in the Sharlayan motherland, he’d arranged for a falsified report to demand Nico’s attention: an anomaly in Vylbrand was reported, remnants of the Calamity not moons ago causing an upheaval on the eastern coast to the far south of Costa del Sol. He’d slipped into her inn room just before she was to leave to investigate, depriving her of all she didn’t immediately have on her person: her spare ammunition, her aetheryte pass, her money, and her linkpearls. Though he didn’t get her revolver or the ammunition she’d had on her person while she was at the front desk, dealing with a complaint lodged against her for “suspicious activity” with the Yellowjackets, she’d been completely deprived of all but her firearm and a handful of bullets. With the Yellowjackets performing an investigation of her room and time running short, she had no choice but to appear where Tora’ji lay in wait to ambush her. It had all dripped of his underhanded sabotage, but she’d little choice. She knew he’d have gone through the investigation agency’s reports linkshell, and, when she’d been assigned, she’d play into his hands whether she went or not.

It had been like that for years. Ever since she had been promoted to Conservator, partnered with Odellia - at the time, a budding, but prodigal, Philosopher - and assigned to keep her safe both through assuring her silence on the motherland’s closely-guarded secrets and as an asset, herself. The pink-haired woman impressed her from the start, her apparent spaciness a very clever and convincing front that concealed one of the sharpest women she’d known in a long time. However, Tora’ji had his eye on her, too, and when Nico was promoted from their shared position as Observer to Conservator, then, just moons later, began dating the woman, he became enraged. He began to deny his fondness for Odellia and became hostile to both her and the red-headed Conservator, often sabotaging their jobs, even succeeding, at first. For the first year of Nico’s career as a Conservator, she was constantly in danger of being sent to remedial training or, worse, terminated. After a while, though, she got wise, avoiding the pitfalls her so-called rival had been setting for her, forcing him to engage in a longer, more drawn-out game. This was to be the final scene for it, she knew. Nearly two years had passed, and not even the Calamity in Eorzea stopped him.

It all came down to this moment. She knew she could still gain the upper hand, and, while she was yet unseen, she peeked out toward the last direction she’d heard his voice. However, just as she did, another shot rang out, and, though she managed to avoid taking a worse hit, the shot glanced off of her revolver, the next seeking shot arcing right into its side. The impact wrenched the firearm from Nico’s grasp, the weapon clattering to the ground as she flinched back behind the tree.

Tora’ji laughed triumphantly. “You know, that might’ve been my last shot,” he taunted, walking up the hill in plain view, “if you weren’t such a generous sort.” He opened the cylinder on his own revolver and begin reloading with Nico’s stolen ammunition.

“Now why don’t you come out before that poor little tree turns into a charcoal with you,” he snarled, holding the revolver level and leering over his sunglasses at her. That was that. She had no choice. If she dove for her weapon, the explosion from his firebrand would cook her alive, and if she stayed behind that tree, she was just as helpless as she’d be facing him.

With a resigned sigh, she held her hands up in a motion of surrender and paced out into the open, a stoic expression on her face. She took a long breath and tensed as the miqo’te pulled down the hammer and barked his command word once more. With a brilliant flash and a burst of flame, all Nico could see was fire as the man’s revolver exploded in his hand, sending him reeling backward, just barely escaping his own fireball.

Nico quirked a brow, hawkish brown eyes watching as the plume dispersed. Though he was mostly unharmed thanks to the enchantments he had on his own gear, rendering him untouchable to his own spells, her was clearly stunned, and his firearm was blown to pieces on the ground before him.

“How-?!” he sputtered, looking at his hands in disbelief, rubbing fingers to palms to rid himself of the explosion’s residue, “You-! You did that! You-”

“Knew,” Nico finished, adjusting her gloves and finally pulling that troublesome bullet from the magicked weave of her suit jacket, the hole mending itself as soon as the intrusive piece of metal was removed. “Yes. You give O too little credit. Before she left, she befouled the powder in those bullets you stole from me." “What? They’re... they’re duds?” he asked, straightening up, rigid in shock.

“Of course. Though, that you had to overdo it and attempt a spellshot with foreign ammunition is your own folly,” she replied, brushing off her shoulders, walking calmly toward the miqo’te, who responded by reaching to his belt and drawing a hunting knife, snarling defiantly.

“Fuck it. I don’t need a gun to kill you, Sol.”

“I beg to differ.”

With a howl of rage, the rancorous Observer charged Nico. Bringing the knife up to attempt a slash across her neck, he found himself blocked as the Conservator had seamlessly brought up a hand to strike his forearm, stopping the swing short and sending a shock up his arm. With her right, she brought a fist to his chest, the impact leaving him gasping for air. Trying to recover, the miqo’te flipped the knife and brought it down from overhead in an attempt to stab her, only to have the woman slip around to his side and bring an elbow to the back of his head.

“Ungh...! I won-” he started to say, but was cut off as he whirled around by the hell of a boot colliding with this side of his face, knocking him unceremoniously to the ground, where he barely caught himself on all fours. His sunglasses came free of his head, previously held within his hair, rather than on his ears, given his anatomy, making them far too easy to dislodge. The man hissed, bright sunlight causing his nocturnally-attuned jade eyes to squint despite his efforts to keep them open.

“You waste far too much time talking.”

Turning on her heel, Nico made for her gun, walking at a rather patient pace. With Tora’ji scrambling for his lost eyewear, she was under no pressure to recover her revolver quickly, even as he recovered and came charging her again.

“Don’t turn your back to me, damn you!” he yelled, but, as he got close, the red-headed Conservator dropped to the ground, scooping up her revolver, turning on the spot, and fanning the hammer, a knee to the ground.

The first shot went wide. The second just barely grazed the man’s leg. However, the third impacted his hip, throwing him for a loop. The fourth hit higher, slamming into his arm as it came down due to his wild stumbling. The fifth and last shot she had, however, also went completely wide when Tora’ji let himself drop to the ground, rather than keep stumbling, dropping into a roll that brought him within striking distance with that knife of his.

Nico huffed in annoyance, her calm disrupted slightly as she launched herself backward to avoid him and stand up straight. She clipped her revolver into its holster and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Taking a long breath, she held her ground, Tora’ji springing back to his own feet and charging her again with that knife.

He swung hard for her side, and she hopped to the side with the swing, carrying herself out of its range while giving herself more time to avoid it. In the gap left by the enraged strike, she charged forward and brought a palm up for the Observer’s face. The base of her palm impacted his nose, and, with a sickening crunch, he staggered back with a scream, a stream of blood pouring down his face and staining his shirt and jacket.

“Augh! By face! You bitch!” he roared, sounding as if he’d suddenly developed a nasty cold. However, before he could recover enough to make another move, the toe of Nico’s boot hit him beneath the chin, snapping his head backward and sending him onto his back as she hit again with the sole, shoving him hard.

With Tora’ji on the ground, she stomped down hard on the wrist of the hand holding that knife, causing him to release it before she kicked it away from him.

“Kill be,” he said, still holding his bleeding, broken nose with the other hand, staring hatefully at her from the ground, eyes watery behind those sunglasses of his, “add Sharlayad will doh. You’ll be a pariah. Burderig a fellow Idvestigator.”

Nico shook her head, a small, amused smile forming as he spoke. “You’re really a lot less threatening when you sound like you should be abed with a hot water bottle and some medicine.”

“You broke by doze!” he howled in indignation, met only by a nod. “Fide. Do it.”

“Oh, doh- ah, pardon. Oh no. I’m... quite alright,” she said, readjusting her gloves, shaking off the bit of blood from her right hand, the glove magically pristine once more afterward, “After all, you’ve talent. It’s just wasted on pettiness. Killing you would still be a waste of life. I’m, frankly, against it.”

“You sdide little...” he muttered, pausing, as if in thought before he backed off a ways, rifling through his pockets before pulling out Nico’s stolen linkpearl and speaking into it, “This is Tora’j-”

He was cut off as the pearl glinted brightly, bursting next to his ear with such force that bits of his skull went flying from his head, his sunglasses dislodged once more. With blood pouring down his head from the missing chunk the rigged linkpearl took from him, his fingers blown to ribbons, the miqo’te fell to the ground with a heavy thud, dead.

Nico took a long breath and sighed, stepping forward to pick up the fallen shades. She looked at them for a long time, closed the arms, and slipped them onto her jacket pocket. Reaching up to an ornate earring, she activated the hidden linkpearl within it.

“Observer Tora’ji Polaali has been confirmed killed in action,” she said calmly as she drew a small prismatic crystal from a black silken pouch in her jacket, “Target eliminated. I’ll begin cleanup immediately and prepare my own report.”

With a flick of her wrist, she cast the fire crystal toward him, and, as it impacted him, the body combusted in a flash of brilliant, white arcane flame, burning away enchantment, armour and all. Within time, naught remained of Tora’ji Polaali, save for his sunglasses.

This would call for an aesthetic change, for sure. She’d earned it.

#nico sol #nicole sol #ffxiv #rp #roleplay #final fantasy xiv #balmung #nico #odellia sol #o sol #odellia #gun mage #sharlayan #conservator #observer #philosopher #international investigations

[baekhyuns-abs]

Mean

(gif not mine credit to the original owner) Hogwarts AU (imma nerd for HP)

I thought of this and I ran far away with it. A Chanyeol Hogwarts AU wasn’t as highly requested as other members *cough* Sehun *cough* so this is my just being selfish Im sorry. 

Here’s Baekhyun’s Hogwarts AU if you wanna read it toooo

Much love <3

Sexual themes

Chanyeol liked challenges. He liked hard Transfiguration spells, hard to do potions that exploded in his face. But she was his favourite challenge. The Gryffindor had girls falling for him left right and center. He was infamous in his house, being their best beater, much to Baekhyun’s dismay. He was good at his classes, he was a perfect student, a little bit of a loud mouth and a troublemaker but it was expected from him. Professor McGonagall acted like she despised him but he was her pride and joy. “For this complex potion I want you to get into pairs.” Professor Slughorn called out. “No funny business, off you go.” Before she could blink the tall figure of what was the bane of her existence slid into the vacant stool to her left. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Get out, Chanyeol.” The Slytherin girl droned refusing him a look. “You suck at potions.” He beamed despite the insult, just happy that she called him by his name, usually she wasn’t so generous. “But you don’t.” She turned to him finally, noticing how his robes hung off his shoulders lazily like he had just crawled out of his dorm. His hair was slightly ruffled and she was overwhelmed how she felt the urge to run her fingers through the strands, fix him up a little better and to just touch him. She cleared her throat. “You drag me down, Park I’ll hang you by your obnoxious ears.” She threatened, hoping he didn’t notice her momentary lapse. “You’re mean.” He pulled a face. She smirked flipping to the right page in her potions book, scanning at the ingredients. “I can be meaner.” She stood up from her stool, finding it easier to prepare ingredients when she was on her feet. Chanyeol followed suit and he stood tall next to her much shorter form. She tried her best to ignore the height difference. “Impossible!” He gasped over dramatically. She shoved the large mixing spoon at his stomach motioning him to grab it. “You’re mixing then. Move.” His eyes glinted with mischief, keeping his arms to his side, ignoring the spoon against his torso. He took a step towards her and her face flashed with alarm and anxiety. “Move here?” He asked, his voice dropping. She took a breath, ignoring everything fluttering in her body as they brushed together. She shook her head, unable to get her protest out of her mouth before he took another step towards her body. She froze in her position, her face reddening giving away her fluster as she felt the spoon digging into her chest as he pressed himself to her. “What about here?” He asked again. The look on his face was utter torment, a small smirk on his face that did unspeakable things to her body. His naturally wide eyes had narrowed with wicked purpose. She tried to step away but the unwitting Ravenclaw student behind her wouldn’t budge. “Take the spoon.” She demanded, her voice low and weak as her eyes darted around the class wishing to all almighty figures that no one saw them. She pushed him as best as she could with her hand that was jammed between them and Chanyeol just smiled. “If you say so.” He stepped back taking the spoon from her tense grip. She didn’t know how her body felt about it when moved from her. He stood in front of the cauldron patiently awaiting his next order. She gripped the desk, trying to level herself when she scanned for a knife to begin the chopping process. She ignored him as he spoke as if he hadn’t just made her feel hot in all sorts of places. He didn’t seem to mind as she remained silent as he chewed her ear off. She avoided looking at him when she’d open her mouth to give him stirring instructions and he followed merrily. She wondered bitterly if he just pushed her buttons to get her worked up because he knew he could - because he’s Park Chanyeol and all the girls fawned over every fiber of him. Except her. “Did you know you have really nice eyes?” The comment was off hand and the gillyweed she held in her palm slipped out with a moist splat to the desk. She blinked up at him and she flicked her hair over her cheeks to hide the redness forming there yet again. “No I didn’t know.” She replied curtly, her voice sharp as she picked the sloge up off her desk. Chanyeol turned to her, his eyebrow raised. “You could just say thank you.” She measured the gillyweed, handing him the correct amount to mix in. “You asked me a question, why would I say thank you?” “Is that too nice for you?” He teased, a sly smile making her knees weak. She mentally slapped herself out of her momentary daze and she tightened her grip on her knife. “Just so you know. I am nice.” She snarled. “Who said you could stop stirring?” Chanyeol smirked as he resumed his mixing. “Are you really?” His tone bothered her and she tightened her jaw and glared up at him, her body smaller than his considerably but she tried her best to look somewhat intimidating. She was a Slytherin, she was meant to be feared and most students did; scared just because she wore a serpent on her uniform yet Chanyeol always had it in him to irk her. “I can be a delight.” Chanyeol flicked her a look, a smirk reappearing on his face that did things to her and when he bit his bottom lip she felt like screaming at him “I bet you can.” ~~~ Quidditch was that weekend and she was elated at the thought of beating Chanyeol. Gryffindor hadn’t beaten Slytherin in years and she relished in that as she mounted her broom, taking off with her other teammates. Sehun hung high in the air away from them, matching his opponent, Joonmyeon across the ground - seeker against seeker. She saw Chanyeol in the corner of her eye having a giggle with his fellow beater, Byun Baekhyun - she’d love to knock him off his broom. She was Baekhyun’s target always when he hit the bludger, it was an unnecessary hinderance to her position as a chaser. That game was no exception. She wanted to murder when the victory whistle blew and Sehun was empty handed. She landed with a huff, ignoring Sehun’s pouting face as he started his descent feeling little pride. She snarled, starting for the celebratory Gryffindors her eyes scanning for the source of her rage. Baekhyun hopped off his broom, beaming and she ripped her robes off, lunging for him. Chanyeol turned to the approaching angry Slytherin chaser and he seemed to read her mind. “Hey no--” He grabbed her at the waist as she glared daggers at a smug Byun Baekhyun. In Chanyeol’s arms she shouted. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” All Gryffindors turned to her and their keeper dared to smile at her, she knew him to be Kim Jongin. She loathed him most of all, he didn’t seem to break a sweat whenever she threatened his goals - she was insulted. A flash of green robes and Yifan quickly came to stand between her and Baekhyun, his responsibility as Slytherin captain holding him on a high pedestal of responsibility. “Are you trying to kill me!?” She yelped still struggling to rip out Baekhyun’s eyes. Baekhyun shrugged, silent and Chanyeol held the fuming girl in his arms tighter feeling a little excited and amused at the way she squirmed in his hold. He wondered if she realised. “Park, take her off the grounds before Hooch sees.” Yifan ordered his voice calm. “Please.” Chanyeol nodded, compliant to the intimidating prefect. As he hauled her around in his arms, back to his team it was then that she realised with a drop in her stomach that Chanyeol had his arms around her. She could feel the strength in his body as her back was pressed to it she refused to let it affect her, the feel of him so close. He was sweaty and his musk filled the air around her and she felt uncomfortable in all areas female. “Let go of me.” She grumbled grabbing at his arms, the arms coiled like metal around her middle. As he padded off the pitch, his arms still keeping her to his body she felt the heat in her angry face worsen - but not with anger. “Chanyeol, let me go.” He held her so effortlessly, like she weighed nothing and if she wasn’t seething with anger she would have patronised him for his strength. “Nope.” He replied promptly. “You can be meaner.” She had no idea where he was taking her. They passed confused students from all houses as he continued down the path out of the Quidditch grounds. The shadow of the forbidden forest loomed over their heads as he made his way down to the cover of the grand trees. She felt fear prick her spine and the colour run from her face. “Chanyeol do--!” She didn’t have time to finish her sentence as she was spun around, her back pressed against the wide tree. She felt heat press against her body and couldn’t help but freeze when she met Chanyeol’s eyes. She kept her arms firmly at her sides and almost flinched when his hand lifted, caressing her cheek softly. Her mouth fell open, lost for words and Chanyeol fingers traced her lips making her shiver between his body and the tree. He shifted his weight and pressed his knee between her legs, she felt all of her air leave her in a rush as his face came to level with hers. He ran his thumb over her lips one last time, his leather fingerless gloves creating a weird sensation on her cheek. “Nothing to say now?” His voice was husky and quiet. She remained silent, overcome by many emotions that conflicted greatly at the bottom of her belly as his hand remained on her face. “You really are cold aren’t you?” He mused aloud and she wondered with a sinking heart if he meant to sound so dejected. “Can you even be nice, be warm?” “I’m not cold.” She replied with a gulp. “Get off me.” Chanyeol ran his tongue over his lips. He raised his hand to his mouth, his eyes remaining locked with hers. She couldn’t look away as she watched with refrained sexual curiosity as he pulled the velcro of his glove strap back with his teeth. He shook the glove off and it his the grass soundlessly. “Prove it.” He challenged. It was a whisper against her skin as he traced her mouth with his lips. His face edged closer to hers and she pressed herself into the tree, unable to go very far. Her heart lurched and she struggled to breathe. Even more so when he kissed her. His gloved hand cupped her nape and her body reacted to him before she could stop it. She was kissing him back when his ungloved hand caressed her hip, feeling for the hem of her jumper. His lips were soft, so pliable as he pressed her harder against the tree, against him. A low groan fell from his mouth and she was completely defeated at the sound; deep and lucious and she wanted to hear him do it again. She grabbed him roughly, her hands scratching his scalp, tugging at his windswept hair eliciting more soft sounds from his delicious mouth. His fingers felt the skin of her belly and she halted, reaching for his wrist but he was much stronger. Chanyeol pulled from her mouth and she opened her eyes at him meeting his hot gaze. “Warm up for me then.” Her half hearted protest got lost in her mind as his hand stroked up her stomach to her bra. He shoved his hand inside and she was stunned into silence. His mouth took hers again as she arched her back into his hand. She fisted his robes as he pinched her nipple between his fingers. She moaned into his mouth and lifted her knee seeking the noticeably growing lump in his sport slacks. Her legs felt weak beneath her and she bit down on his bottom lip as he tugged on her nipple making her mind fuzzy. She released his lip and he began kissing her neck. Every kiss every light bite of his teeth into her skin had her seeing stars as she threw her head back against the tree. His mouth made her core pulse and her knuckles paled around his robes. She moaned loudly without a care of any creatures lurking through the forest that would have heard. Chanyeol froze, his mouth jerking away from the skin of her neck. She opened her eyes as his hand withdrew from her bra and the heat of his body left hers as he stepped away. A flush to his cheeks, the painfully restrained erection told her he looked as needy as she felt. His tongue at the corner of his mouth, the slyest, the most wicked smirk spread across his cheeks and she felt turned on as well as apprehensive. “So you do warm up.” She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t think of a coherent sentence in the scramble that was her thoughts. Her eyes wided the lustful haze fading into annoyance as he remained standing a foot in front of her. She narrowed them into a sharp glare and she stepped to him, her legs a little shaky. She balled his robes in her fists putting everything she had to send him flying into the tree behind him. The smirk left his face, surprise overcoming him and she felt the smallest amount of victory as she wrapped her hand around his throat firmly, but not enough to hinder his breathing. Her face lowered to his as she stood higher than him atop of a tangled mess of roots. She saw his lips twitch to kiss her and she smiled. “Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

#chanyeol #park chanyeol #jongin #kai #baekhyun #exo k #exo m #exo #chanyeol exo #chanyeol exo k #sehun #yifan #kris #kpop hogwarts au #exo au #smut #chanyeol smut #exo smut #exo k smut #exo requests #hogwarts au

[oldfashionedswiftcurse]

I Did Something Bad

*********AU/Alter Ego Taylor************

Sometimes, all it took was one wink to have them eating out of the palm of her hands. It was simple really, a wink or a grin usually made them think she was theirs. Taylor wasn’t a black widow necessarily, and she genuinely fell for the guys she met in dark bars and loud concerts. She made it easy for them to fall in love with her too, showering them with presents and luxuries that could only be attained in their wildest dreams. They all started off the same way, drunkenly professing their deepest desires to each other and then somehow ending up waking up next to each other the next morning.

They would date…privately, of course…away from the prying eyes of the cameras that were always on her. And when things turned sour in the relationship (which they always did), Taylor would get rid of them cleanly and without a care in the world. Her first boyfriend was found cheating on her multiple times, and when she drew that knife and smirked while sticking it into his stomach, she felt a sense of power that only worsened. Her second boyfriend was money-hungry, stealing thousands from her in the blink of an eye. He always calmed her down with soothing words and soft kisses, but when she finally had enough, his body was the easiest to dispose of.

           In all of her years, she had never been caught. Many times, she came so close to being imprisoned, but she always slipped away. There was always something that was too speculative or inadmissible, and she was always freed. People usually got over the stories, believing that she was always framed, but one person kept a close watch.

           “Detective Alwyn,” Taylor whispered, slipping past the golden-haired man eyeing her closely. “I thought you were on duty tonight.”

           His tan khakis and maroon button-down told a different story. He wasn’t at this bar for drinks and fun, despite what his outward appearance wanted to portray. He was here to finally take her down, and the way his blue eyes followed her around the bar was haunting.

           “Not tonight, Ms. Swift,” he muttered, his lilting accent hiding his disapproval. “Tonight is a night of celebration.”

��          “Celebration?” She asked, pursing her dark red lips into a smirk. “What would you happen to be celebrating?”

           “The night you’re finally brought down.”

           His matter-of-fact tone and the way he sipped his gin made her chuckle.

           “I have no idea what you’re talking about. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is a modern-day witch hunt. I’m sure there are laws against this type of stalking.”

           “I’m just a man in a bar looking for a night of fun and intrigue,” he said, sipping his drink. “If I finally manage to take down the Black Widow herself, that’ll just be a bonus.”

           “Well, on behalf of everyone here tonight, I hope you find her. You seem to be bringing everyone’s mood down.”

           He smiled subtly, brushing past her as he moved.

           “You look exquisite tonight, by the way,” he whispered into her ear, making the goosebumps on her arm stand up. “What’s that saying? Oh, you’re dressed to…kill, isn’t that it?”

           She paused, eyeing him cautiously. He watched her walk away and cursed himself for being so obvious about his goals. For two years, he had been chasing her, never being able to surpass her expensive lawyers and piercing wit. Whenever he got even slightly close to discovering the truth, she just slipped through his fingers. She moved gracefully, and when a large crowd of people danced near him, Joe instantly lost her.

           When the moon faded into the blinding sun of dawn, Joe awoke to another murder. Without any connection to Taylor, Joe knew she had struck again, and he had no evidence to prove it. When he arrived to study the body, she had wiped it nearly clean, except for a tube of lipstick. He knew the chance of finding prints on it was weak, but he bagged it into evidence. For the next few nights, he watched her like a hawk, partying and drinking like only she knew how to. However, when the evidence was finally returned to it, Joe’s eyes danced with delight when he saw the lipstick again. This time, Taylor’s name flashed in bright red letters next to it, the connection he had been waiting for two years for.

           Moving quickly, he signaled for two officers to follow him to Taylor’s apartment. When they arrived, Joe saw the brief flash of a hand behind a curtain and knew she was home. Letting the two officers trail behind him at a distance, Joe climbed upstairs and knocked loudly at the door.

           “Ms. Swift, Detective Alwyn! Open up!” He said, gesturing for the officers to remain at the bottom of the steps.

           When no one answered, Joe kicked it open and found a patiently waiting Taylor drinking a glass of wine.

           “It’s about time. Took you long enough,” she mumbled fiercely, taking a sip of the white toxin.

           “I…we finally have you for this. There aren’t any more get-out-of-jail free cards, Taylor. You’re done.”

           She chuckled like a fiend, setting her glass on the table.

           “Lock me up then, Detective. Read me my rights and take me away.”

           He froze at her nonchalance. Had he read the evidence sheet wrong? Was this a huge prank that was being played on him?

           “You expected us to show up. You dropped your lipstick on purpose. You didn’t wear gloves that night…”

           “Because you thought you had it all figured out,” she interrupted. “You thought I was a bored, lonely woman whose only hobby was murder. Looks like we were both wrong.”

           “How were you wrong?” Joe asked, reaching for the gun in its holster.

           “Because I thought you, of all people, would figure this out sooner. You’re smart, Alwyn, but not smart enough.”

           Joe paused, thinking deeply about her apathy.

           “And you’re sick, Taylor Swift. You’re under arrest.”

           As he moved toward her, she reached for a book. Dropping it onto the table, Joe reached for it slowly and made sure to keep a close watch on her as he read it. Inside, there were pictures of the two dead men, pictures of bank account transactions, a family photo.

           “What is this?” He asked, scoffing. “Some memorabilia for you to remember your sick crimes?”

           “You men of the law think you have it all figured out. Purveyors of justice, keepers of safety, but you’re so far off key,” she said matter-of-factly.

           “This is Dean Fuller’s family,” Joe said, looking at the family photo. “You killed an innocent man whose family never got the closure they deserved.”

           Taylor chuckled loudly.

           “Closure? You must be kidding me. Nancy Fuller is probably throwing a party at the hospital right now.”

           Joe tried not to show any signs of emotion, but his confusion was written all over his pale face.

           “Dean Fuller was a drunk and a gambler, Detective. If you had really done your research, you would’ve known that. I was with him long enough to know he was stealing money from me…money that should’ve gone to his sick child, but instead took him on a first class flight to Vegas,” she muttered, looking around her apartment.

           She began walking around now, eyeing him with wild eyes.

           “The money that he stole from me, he gambled away. So after I killed him, I sent a nice fat check to his wife and child, the real victims in this situation, don’t you think?”

           “You don’t get to play vigilante, Taylor. That wasn’t your choice to make,” Joe said fiercely, holding his gun out right now. “Hands where I can see them!”

           Taylor refused, still walking around her apartment.

           “Will Teller was a lot worse, I’d say though,” she began, reaching for her glass of wine on the kitchen island. “He was a notorious cheat, and his girlfriend knew all about it.”

           “You killed him for cheating? You must think that you’re God…” Joe began, but was immediately cut off.

           “He cheated with a few different girls, and he was rich, so he never tried to steal from me. And I didn’t really care about him, so the cheating thing never bothered me. That’s not why I killed him.”

           “Then why did you?” Joe asked, feeling his heart speed up.

           His gun was out and pointing directly at her, but he wanted to hear the end of her story. She gestured to the book in front of him, and he turned the page. The bank transactions were in Teller’s name, ranging up to a few million dollars. When he looked closer, he saw that the amounts were all addressed to various women, at least five.

           “The rich, white men are all the same,” Taylor said, smirking. “Five different women with no direct connection to each other all coming forward to accuse Teller of rape? I’d say that’s more than a coincidence, wouldn’t you?”

           “How do you know this is accurate? This never came up in our intel,” Joe muttered angrily.

           “I do get to play the vigilante, Detective Alwyn. Because where our justice system fails, there I am waiting to strike. I’m like a snake in a way, just waiting for the right moment.”

           “You killed them,” Joe said to convince himself. “I was right about you all along.”

           “You can pretend that you don’t see the flaws in our system, Detective, but they’re there. They’re so obvious that you either never noticed or never cared.”

           “Taylor…”

           “So take me away,” she mumbled, extending her hands. “I’ll confess everything. You’ve caught me.”

           “You wanted to be caught,” Joe said with a shocked look on his face. “You wanted me to piece all of this together.”

           “I wanted you to know the truth. I wanted you to know that there’s more to people than what’s written on a piece of paper. There’s a difference between morality and justice, Alwyn.”

           Joe remained silent, putting his gun on the table. When he reached for the handcuffs in his back pocket, he looked at them for a minute. The silence was deafening, and Taylor’s blue eyes were locked on him. The steady clink was heard as Joe threw the handcuffs to the ground.

           “There’s a back door that leads up to your patio. I’ve been studying the blueprints to this place for at least a year, planning all your getaway spots and secret doors. I just never thought they’d come in handy for your escape.”

           Taylor was stunned, watching him carefully.

           “I know. There’s a helicopter already waiting for me up there,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d give me a choice.”

           “I’m a detective, Taylor. This goes against everything because for all I know, you could’ve killed those men out of sheer boredom. But something….something tells me that I’m not making a mistake here,” he said, stepping out of her way.

           Taylor quietly moved to lift her already packed bag and walked to the back door.

           “It’s nice to know that morality still exists somewhere,” she whispered, running outside.

           When the officers burst through the front door, they found Joe on the floor with his shoulders hung in defeat. He may have made a mistake, but his gut told a different story. He had no idea where she was going or what she was going to do in the future, but Joe would never forget Taylor Swift. Not the way she made him feel or the way she made him believe that people are flawed and humanity is difficult to comprehend and justice can’t always be served with a gavel.

#taylor swift and joe alwyn fanfiction #taylor swift and joe alwyn #taylor swift fanfiction #i did something bad

[flyswhumpcenter]

Burning on the Outside, Burning on the Inside [Fever February Day 6: Fever Dreams]

FEVER FEBRUARY INDEX

Summary: A beautiful landscape turns into a nightmare as the young boy gets his hopes of getting his darker secrets hidden from everyone else, and that's all thanks to an attack and some nightmares.

Fandom: Inazuma Eleven (original)

Word Count: 2K words

Notes: I'm sorry Inazuma Eleven, I love you yet I butch the characters Yes this is self-indulgent edgy trash about my rare pair fite me (actually don't I'm a very sensitive person with Feels™) it's 1AM what am i even doing

AO3 version available here.

The landscape is beautiful. A crystal-clear lake reflecting surrounding luscious trees and splendid mountains whose submits are eternally snowy. Breath-taking. He doesn’t feel like he’s already been here, but strangely, it feels somewhat familiar anyway.

There is a calm breeze running through his dishevelled hair, gently blowing in his white t-shirt as he sits down in the grass. He could be here forever: a bit of alone time isn’t too bad, he thinks, and that’s weird because he’s usually very happy to be with his friends, his classmates, his teammates… For once, he enjoys a kind of solitude he’s not used to: beneficial time to himself. It’s like he hasn’t gotten the chance to think back on anything lately.

It’s been a wild ride in a very short amount of time. It feels like yesterday he was the rookie of his school’s soccer club, and that everyone was making clear he was a rookie. A talented rookie, but just a rookie. The only first-year of the entire team.

He never really explained why he wanted the goalkeeper position so badly. Sure, what had kicked off his decision was Endou of Raimon Eleven: a motivational character, a role model to follow. His smile, his warmth, his charisma… He was drawn to someone so good, of course. He had deep respect for the captain of the team who had won the Football Frontier after forty years of Teikoku dominance. How couldn’t he? Nobody could deny Endou was a genius at being a captain. He knew how to motivate his teammates. That was one of his numerous talents, but the one which really struck him.

There wasn’t only that. There wasn’t only following in his idol’s footsteps. He was an awful midfielder: horrible endurance, clumsy when handling a ball with his feet, also pretty bad at speed when he thinks about it. The team was at first shocked of such a sudden request for such a drastic change: it was just how things could only work out for him.

He loved soccer. He kept on wishing he was better at it, sure, and he was a goalie once because the three other keepers they had had somehow call come down with the flu. It was so much fun, he didn’t want to surround the gloves. He would become a goalkeeper. No matter the cost. He didn’t need to be good on his legs, or to be that good at teamplay to be good at keeping the goal.

Frankly, it was easier to say he really admired an amazing goalkeeper everyone thought was amazing than admitting the real reasons why he had to get it.

That was dirty on his part, sure. Eventually, they’ll find out, right? He’s never been able to keep secrets for very long. It’s a surprise for him, to this day, that nobody has even guessed something was up with him at Raimon. The coach hasn’t found out yet (or maybe she did, but she just slipped it by like she seemed to have let so much shady stuff slide by because victory is her objective and nothing else). The managers haven’t found out yet. Endou hasn’t found out yet. Tsunami hasn’t found out yet (that one’s really surprising, until he considers Tsunami is one amazing friend with one hell of an airhead for anything not sea-related).

A part of him, most of him feels like hiding that isn’t fair to everyone else. It’s selfish of him to do that. The team may ever consider themselves betrayed, would they find out about it. They better not, and they better not do that in the worst way possible he can think of.

He’s naïve, he’s young, he has a lot to learn from his temporary place as Raimon’s goalkeeper. He’s truly grateful he got to know everyone: they’re all nice (except for Kogure), caring, determined and a very good team to be a part of. It’s like he’s been with them forever, when it’s not been so long at all. The managers are very caring of them, thus why he’s surprised none of them have landed a hand on the incriminating stuff yet.

He’s grateful for them, he really is. He loves his friends and teammates at Yokato, but it almost feels like he’s found a second family with the Raimon Eleven. He just feels a bit… left out, compared to the other players, like he’s miles away from them and their talent. And he is: most of them are older than him, they have tremendous talent, they completely deserve their image as national legends of soccer. He’s just… there. Somewhere in the picture.

He’s a stain on the picture. A big, ugly stain. The water gets dirtier as he thinks so. What a coincidence… He’s a stain because he’s failed most of what he’s tried to do. Does it take ages to master a hissatsu for anyone but him? Mugen the Hand was difficult and took him way too long to master. The entire team had to defend for him! On the first match he was their goalkeeper! He wheezed at the balls! That wasn’t how it was supposed to go!

The water of the lake is agitated now. This worries him: what happened to the beautiful water? Is it because of him? Everything was so calm before! The water is turning black, the grass is dying, so are the trees. What’s happening?!

The sky turns red, and there are haunting reflections in the water. He sees the hollow faces of everyone who is supposed to trust him, staring at him with red sclerae, twisted smiles or deadly grim faces. Even Tsunami’s face is making fun of him. Tears dwell up in his eyes, and he crashes to the ground, slamming the soil with his hands as everything around him turns black and gets on fire. The lake turns to coal. The trees turn to torches.

He’s terrified, but he feels so bad for everyone, but he’s even more terrified than he feels bad! He’s gasping for air a second, the next he’s… somewhere else entirely.

In a cold sweat, he jumps, screaming, only for his hands and head to hurt and force him back to lying. This isn’t what he expected. Did he die? Is he alive? What happened? Why is his hand so scrambled with confusing shards of what just happened or didn’t happen? All he sees is a white sky and even more white around him.

Next to him is someone familiar, who looks very startled yet upset at the same time. A girl with blue hair, blue eyes, red glasses… She’s a manager. She’s Otonashi, the first-year manager. Why is she here? Where are they even?

“You’re up, huh…” she says, staring at him with a confused expression, before shaking her head and taking back a serious glance.

“Otonashi… Where are we…?”

“In the nurse’s office. You scared everyone beyond their minds, Tachimukai!”

The sudden scold was way too early, and if his body somehow didn’t feel like lead, he would probably have jumped again.

“W-what do you mean…?” is all he asks back, genuinely confused as to how he scared everybody. To be fair, he just woke up from a nightmare, and he doesn’t have any idea as to when he even fell asleep.

“You fainted on the field, and nobody knew what was up! You started to choke on yourself for no reason, we were terrified!”

Her anger immediately turned to worry, or at least he thinks so? His vision’s a little blurry. It’s a bit hard to decrypt her emotions when his head confuses him.

“Why didn’t you tell everyone you had that?! You could have been in serious danger!”

His throat knots. He never wanted to reply to that question, and he still doesn’t want to.

“I… uh… I…”

It doesn’t want to get out, and he doesn’t want to cry either, so he’s stuck there stuttering.

“I… just didn’t want to worry anyone I guess…”

It’s deeper than that, but that’ll do for now.

“Well,” Otonashi smiles sadly, “that’s a bit of a mission failed, don’t you think? You got everyone so worked up, I don’t think they’ll ever let it slide by.”

She has her arms crossed, but she sits down, as if she was disappointed or resigned. She sighs.

“Since you seem to worry so much for us, the team’s won against the Dark Emperors, and they’re back to their normal selves. It’s also thanks to you, Tachimukai, you know.”

“It is…?”

He’s both confused as to how he could have helped if he got an attack on the field, and glad because he did something good that helped people for once.

“Of course it is! You showed them again what friendship and determination could bring them to on their own, without the need for the meteorite. You were wonderful on the field.”

He can remember that Kazemaru guy making fun of him for being a terrible keeper and smashing Dark Phoenixes in his face. He probably shouldn’t say anything about that to someone who cares deeply for the original Raimon Eleven.

“I’m glad I did then…”

Otonashi seems to get her usual excitement back as she tells the story of the match again, focusing a bit on his own accomplishments. It helps him remember what got overwritten by the blackout in his mind. Her tone shifts progressively to sorrow.

“Say, Tachimukai… What makes you doubt yourself so badly?”

He blinks in surprise. He didn’t think it was that obvious. Did he say something embarrassing too loudly when he was on the field?

“Why do you ask that…?”

“Because of some stuff you were saying in your sleep. You were speaking of feeling like a terrible player, a burden to the team and a ‘stain’. What even makes you think you’re a stain? You’re an amazing keeper who does his job very well!”

“I’m too slow for the team… I don’t think it was such a good idea to have me replace Endou, I’m sure he was still better than me after I had to leave…”

“Don’t say that! This isn’t a competition!” Otonashi suddenly gets upset. “This isn’t about who’s better, it’s about you and your own worth! You’re worth the very same as everybody else, and that means you’re vital to the team! Like everyone, you worked hard and you got so much better than when we first met, so raise your head and go forward without thinking every two seconds about how you’re a burden or some nonsense like that!”

Her face blanks out.

“Well… As physically possible when you’re injured, I guess…”

Oh, right, his hands. He injured his hands. His right wrist is in some kind of splint, he doesn’t have to look at it to remember how that feels like.

“Thing is, you don’t have to be the best. You just have to be as good as you want or feel like you need to be. There’s no competition to have inside your mind. Nobody saw you as nothing less than them, okay? You should have told us about your condition, but you don’t need to hit yourself over it over and over again like I feel like you’ve done lately.”

Her face softens into a smile.

“That’s enough motivational speeches for today. You look pretty shaken from your nightmare, am I wrong? You need some calmness and TLC. That’s all you need, I guarantee you. No training, no overworking yourself. None of these.”

“Otonashi…?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you so much… I felt lonely until then, but you made me feel better…”

That seems to get a little blush out of her.

“I’m happy you’re feeling better, then, whatever I did to make you so.” She shakes her finger around. “But don’t even think of getting up from that bed until you’re allowed to!”

That gets a giggle out of him.

“I’ll do that.”

It's a bit confusing so here's some notes: -I HC Tachi as having some kind of asthma (for some... personal reason I may explain someday), and as havin abandonment issues. I guess that resonates in that oneshot, since the fever got triggered by the asthma attack. -This is supposed to take place after the match against the Dark Emperors, in a slight change of things

#fever february #sickfic #whump #tachioto #otonashi haruna #tachimukai yuuki #inazuma eleven #endou mamoru #tsunami jousuke #fever #illness #angst #H/C #otp: beyond mugen the hand #yes this is a fanfic #shocking i know #maybe DR will pop sometimes soon in FevFeb lmao

[ubwfc]

Bristol 2s vs. Cardiff Met 2s

For their first game of 2019 - with only around nine fully-functioning players (yes Ellie and India, I’m talking about you) - Bristol 2s saw a slight change in formation as UBWFC legend Shiner was welcomed into left-back, Maj moved into centre-mid, Meryem pushed forward into right-wing, and Club Captain Ellie put on her goalie gloves for the second time this season (:o). Nevertheless, the squad travelled to Cardiff ready for the challenge and eager to continue the positive play they ended the previous term on.

Once again fuelled by Haribo’s courtesy of Nathan, the girls kicked-off with lots of energy. Some might even say too much energy, as on the second touch of the ball and merely 23 seconds in, India fell to the floor in agony after her knee gave in and she was immediately carried off the pitch. Due to such poor timing, I’m afraid Dick of the Day will once again have to go to you, India Gay.

The girls soldiered on with 10 players. Despite being at a slight disadvantage, Bristol refused to give up and worked hard to stop Cardiff Met from creating any threatening chances. Jess, Anj, Niamh and Ruby ran tirelessly to press every ball and cover the gap in the middle, while - on the occasion Cardiff made it past the midfield - Maj, Nancy, Kat and Shine were a solid force at the back who prevented any shots from being taken. Ellie was itching to show off her goalkeeping skills, but for the first part of the match Bristol’s play meant that she wasn’t given the chance.

On a number of occasions, Bristol managed to turn their defensive play into promising attacks, which shocked, and dare I say frustrated, the Cardiff players. Shine and Nancy slyly stole the ball from the Cardiff striker’s feet a number of times, and sent it down the line to Anj or Niamh who skilfully worked their way towards goal. Jess also put in some firm tackles in the centre third of the pitch, and then either used her footwork to further annoy the Cardiff midfield or presented some lovely long balls onto Ruby and Niamh. A couple of great attempts were made at goal, which kept the girls’ spirits high, but it was unfortunately Cardiff who managed to bag the first goal as they sent the ball down the left to an open winger who fluke-ily knocked the ball just past Ellie’s fingertips. 1-0 Cardiff Met.

Shortly after, Cardiff followed with a second goal which came from a corner, but Bristol did not let this get them down, as they knew they were working twice as hard as their opposition. Hungry to win, Jess sent a long ball straight from the kick-off which landed right at Ruby’s feet, who then ran onto goal and shot at the target. Ruby’s effort was deflected by the keeper, but worry not, Meryem was there to pick up the loose ball, and after fumbling around with it for a few seconds, she laid it off to Jess who sent it straight to the back of the net in true Jessminda style, re-claiming her space at the top of the Golden Boot chart. Bristol 1-2 Cardiff Met.

Bristol found themselves back in the game and posing more of a threat to their opposition, which of course only riled them up that bit more. The game continued with just as much passion, smart-mouthing, fouling, hand-balling, and poor-decision making from the ref, but the half-time score-line rested at 2-1.

The girls returned to the pitch with restored energy levels, playing just as well as they had in the first half. Jess in particular was working hard to show that b*tch with the same flashy boots as her (how dare she) who wears them better. However, somehow after a few more ignored handballs, Cardiff managed to trick their way around Ellie, making the score-line 3-1 Cardifften minutes into the second half.

Bristol resiliently followed with more counterattacks, with through-balls coming from Jess and Meryem in the middle and crosses coming from Ruby on the right, while Niamh and Anj continued to chase down every ball and tire out Cardiff’s defenders. Many shots were fired towards goal, but the Cardiff keeper did well to stop them from breaking through… UNTIL speedy Anj cunningly stole the ball from a Cardiff winger, galloped down the wing and slotted it into the bottom left corner. Not even Petre Czech was stopping that one; Bristol 2-3 Cardiff.

With Bristol back in game and a draw looking more likely, things understandably got a little more heated on the pitch. But it must have been the moment their attack from a corner bounced off the cross-bar and onto the goal line, but snatched up by keeper Ellie before being allowed as a goal that really tipped Cardiff over. After a bit of pushing, shoving and finally a fist to the face, smallest-girl-on-the-pitch Meryem had had enough and decided to bite back. According to Nathan, it looked like a Jack Russell getting feisty to a pack of Rottweilers, but no-one messes with my girls, am I right! The 5 foot 2 ref managed to calm things down and play continued for the remaining ten minutes of the game.

Neither team gave up, and it wasn’t clear what way the score-line was going to go. Bristol nearly equalised on a number of occasions while Cardiff continued to press the defence. Maj was so determined to get a point out of the game that once a Cardiff striker managed to penetrate the back four and ran towards goal, she decided a two-footed slide tackle on the edge of the area was the way to achieve it. A penalty was given to Cardiff in the last minute of the game, but Bristol were not worried; this was Ellie’s time to shine.

A crowd had accumulated on the side-lines, and tensions grew as Cardiff’s striker placed the ball on the penalty spot. Ellie looked fierce and ready, spreading her arms and bouncing on the goal line. The penalty-taker appeared startled and alarmed, as she could tell this is the moment Ellie had been waiting for. The ball was struck with power, but Ellie had been anticipating this heroic dive to the bottom-left corner since the day she was born. The ball flew straight into Ellie’s arms and the crowd went wild!

(ok maybe they did score the penalty and it ended 4-2 to Cardiff, but this version made for a better match report).

Player of the match: Nancy Gilmartin

Squad:

Ellie Vaughan Katharine Biggs Nancy Gilmartin Alice Shiner Meryem Ismail Jessica Mortimer Marzenka Opalinska-New Niamh Carty Ruby Warden India Gay Anjalee Syangbo

[celticnoise]

CQN continues its enthralling and EXCLUSIVE extracts from Alex Gordon’s book, ‘That Season In Paradise’, which highlight the months that were the most momentous in Celtic’s proud history.

Today, the author continues his look at the players who were involved in playing such an important role in the glorious triumph over Inter Milan in the European Cup Final on May 25 1967 in Lisbon. Goalkeeper Ronnie Simpson shares his thoughts from his memoirs, published the same year.

‘I WAS CRYING. I couldn’t stop myself. The tears came rolling down my cheeks. I was standing in the lingering sun of Lisbon in the Estadio Nacional, completely helpless in my emotions.’

The words belong to the remarkable Ronnie Simpson, as revealed in his autobiography, ‘Sure It’s A Grand Old Team To Play For’.

‘The European Cup Final of 1967 was over. Referee Kurt Tschenscher, of West Germany, had blown for the last time and Celtic were champions. Champions of all Europe for the first time at their first attempt.

‘And I, Ronnie Simpson, at the age of thirty-six and seven months, had become the first British goalkeeper to win a European Champions Cup medal. I couldn’t believe it. I was overcome.

‘I wasn’t alone for long. In seconds I was smothered in the arms of manager Jock Stein, then reserve keeper John Fallon, the player who had stripped for every European tie and never been called up. The three of us were locked together, crushing each other, scared to open our mouths in case we all burst into tears again.

‘Suddenly, I realised there were more people running around us than there should have been. Our supporters were on the field. This was their greatest moment as it had been ours and they were going to make the most of it.

‘But the fastest man of all at that moment was Bobby Lennox. He came sprinting straight at me and I held out my hands, thinking he was coming to join in the goalmouth celebrations. But Bobby kept going right into the back of the net. Then it dawned on me.

‘Before a match, I take out my false teeth and stick them in my cap which I keep in the back of the net. It’s a habit I have adopted in important matches just in case I have to meet someone at short notice or at the end of a game. Then I can always pop my teeth in. Bobby noticed this habit of mine and, as he also had false teeth, he asked me before the Lisbon Final to keep his set of choppers inside my cap. And this was what Bobby was racing for – and I suddenly knew why!

‘The fans, Celtic, Portuguese, Italian and the others were desperate to get some sort of souvenir from this remarkable Final. Players were getting jerseys and pants torn from them bodily, fans were cutting lumps out of the turf, the corner flags were already on their way to places well away from Portugal. My cap, with two sets of false teeth, was too obvious a trophy.

TEARS AND CHEERS…an emotional Ronnie Simpson is mobbed by fans at full-time.

‘Bobby won his race, grabbed his teeth and ran for the tunnel leading to the dressing room. I quickly grabbed my cap and teeth and tried to make it – and did so after what seemed an eternity. I was half-strangled and almost crushed as a tug-of-war went on for my jersey. But this was one jersey I was keeping. I fought with all my remaining strength to make the tunnel and I made it with my jersey, cap, pants, boots, hair, gloves, false teeth and body intact.

‘I was met in the dressing room by Bob Rooney, our physiotherapist. He threw his arms around me, dumped me on a seat and the two of us burst into tears. We couldn’t help it. The happiest moment of my life and I couldn’t raise a smile! The joy of beating Inter Milan was a strange experience. Had the tension been so great? Had I put in so much concentration into this match that I had no strength at the finish? Or was it sheer emotion that had made me lose control? I don’t really know. But even today I still find it hard to believe I was a member of the Celtic team which won the twelfth European Cup tournament.

‘It is wrong to say that we had prepared for this match in the two days we had stayed in Estoril, or the ten days before training at Largs and at Parkhead. I felt we had been preparing for this Final all season. I felt we had been building up for this match from the early days of August.

‘I remember well what the Boss said to us after our final training session in Glasgow before we boarded our chartered Dan Air jet aircraft for Lisbon. “Look, boys, I think it can be us. If we play it correctly, we can win.” He said it with that dry smile of his which meant he was certain we would win. He talked to us about the method of Inter Milan and their playing strengths. He was convinced that their right-back Tarcisio Burgnich would be given the job of shadowing Jimmy Johnstone. This proved to be correct. He told Willie Wallace to play up front for the first ten minutes, then change over with Stevie Chalmers who would play deep in this early spell. He wanted to confuse the opposition, unsettle them, without upsetting the Celtic team plans. This he succeeded in doing.

AIR WE GO…Ronnie Simpson races from his line to cut out an aerial threat.

‘He wanted Jim Craig and Tommy Gemmell to attack freely and run with the ball. And he wanted the ball cut back into the path of running players. And, as the world saw on television, we had ten running players – and all running forward! Our manager never insists on anything. He suggests it. And his suggestions have so often been proved right, that they are now accepted with little, or no, opposition.

‘He made one other point. He impressed upon us that should we lose to Inter Milan, we were to lose like true sportsmen. He asked us to play it clean no matter what happened. He wanted Celtic to come out of the Final with credit, no matter whether we won or lost. He didn’t dwell too much on this, but he made his point very plainly. With the game on television, to be seen throughout Europe, he wanted Celtic to be seen as a team fit to grace a European Cup Final. Fit to win it – or fit to lose, with dignity.’

Simpson added, ‘Inter’s manager Helenio Herrera had fought long and hard to get Celtic to some disadvantage. And had failed. He had gone to Portugal some weeks before the Cup Final and appeared on television asking the Portuguese people to support Inter in the game as they, like the Italians, were Latins. He had demanded first choice of the dressing room and had protested when he learned that Celtic wore their numbers on their pants instead of their shirts. He even made sure we would be out first at the interval, so that we would be exposed to the sun longer than Inter Milan.

THE ITALIAN JOB…Ronnie Simpson is helpless as Sandro Mazzola nets a perfect penalty-kick for the opener.

‘Manager Jock Stein held himself in check. He told us, “If I know the people of Portugal, they will support Celtic. We, like the Portuguese side which played in the 1966 World Cup Finals in England, play attacking football. We will win the Portuguese support by entertaining them and by playing the attacking football they enjoy.” He was right – as always.’

John Clark said, ‘I know Billy McNeill has always stated that he thought the Inter Milan game was the easiest we faced in the European Cup that season. Probably we didn’t have to work as hard as we did in the goalless draw against Dukla Prague in Czecholslovakia, for instance, but I still thought it was a tough shift. We all knew about the Italians’ attitude to football. They were superb on the counter attack. They didn’t waste time or energy coming forward in waves. They were cagey, would keep possession and then suddenly explode into action when they got anywhere near your penalty area.

‘They obviously believed in the rapier thrust rather than the almighty bludgeon to get the job done. Thankfully, though, our guys in the middle of the field, Bobby Murdoch and Bertie Auld, and the lads up front kept the Inter back lot occupied throughout huge chunks of the game. Yes, I take on board what Big Billy says, but I have to admit I feared Inter on the rare occasions they tried to get forward. It was a game where you knew one lapse of concentration would bring about disaster.

CALM BEFORE THE STORM…Ronnie Simpson, flanked by Billy McNeill and Tommy Gemmell, prepares for the kick-off.

‘I’ll never forget that backheel from Ronnie Simpson, for a start. I still break out in a sweat when I think about it. That came from just one long pass from the edge of their own penalty area. Ronnie, as he often did, saw it coming and was off his line swiftly. Their centre-forward, Renato Cappellini, didn’t give up the chase, however. He kept on going and, for me, there were danger signals flashing.

‘Ronnie actually turned his back on the Italian and looked as though he was going to run towards his penalty area where he could have picked up the ball. Instead, for absolutely no fathomable reason, he decided to backheel it to me.

‘He told me he realised I was there all the time. I’ll take his word for it. Anyway, if that had hit the Italian it was goodnight for us. They would have gone 2-0 ahead and I genuinely don’t think we would have got three to win in normal time. No-one would have been talking about the Lisbon Lions  decades down the line. Or, possibly, I’m just not giving Ronnie the praise he deserves for a bit of off-the-cuff goalkeeping.’

Ronnie Simpson admitted, ‘I admit now there is one moment from the game which has given me a couple of sleepless night and has made me think quite a lot. The moment when I backheeled the ball to John Clark across my goal and out of my penalty area. A loose ball had come into our area, some thirty yards from goal and I went for it as almost every other member of our team was up in attack. I had plenty of time, or so I thought, and my intention was to give the ball a good old-fashioned wallop upfield.

‘But as I ran towards the ball I could hear an Inter player chasing me from the other side of the field and he was gaining very quickly. It was then that I got it into my head that if I kicked the ball, I might kick it against the Italian and it might rebound towards goal which, of course, was unguarded.

‘As I was running, I could see John Clark racing to the other side of the penalty box, obviously to cover the goal. I made my mind up then. As I got to the ball, I threw my left leg over it and backheeled across the penalty area to John Clark. Luggy promptly cleared it and that was that. Since then I have wakened up a few times in the middle of the night and asked myself, What would have happened if that hadn’t come off? Supposing I had muffed the kick and Inter had scored? Would I be where I am today? Would I have been able to live it down?

‘Remember, this was the first-half and Inter were already leading 1-0. It would have been a tragedy for me, for Celtic and for Scotland. What a chance to take – but, thankfully, I got away with it.’

Bobby Lennox said, ‘We deserved to win in Lisbon. After I scored against Motherwell to make sure we lifted the 1966 league title, our first in twelve years, I recall Big Jock saying, “We mustn’t look to the past at the legends who have gone before us – we must build our own legends.” How prophetic were those words?

‘Yes, it was great to make history in Lisbon. Nothing will ever top that feeling. I will always remember the referee blowing that final whistle and I just turned round to see who was the nearest team-mate. It was John Clark and we just threw ourselves at each other. Honestly, we were like a couple of schoolkids. “We’ve won! We’ve won!” We yelled our heads off as Inter Milan players walked disconsolately past us, heads bowed in defeat.

‘Then I remembered my false teeth were in Ronnie Simpson’s cap in the back of his net. I saw all those supporters racing onto the pitch and I suddenly thought, “I better get my teeth!” I ran to Ronnie, picked up my gnashers and the Lennox smile was ready for the cameras.’

TOMORROW: The Lonely Man and the Impossible Task

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#CelticNoise #Celtic #CelticFC #CelticQuickNews

[mitchbeck]

CANTLON: (FRI) PACK GET BACK TO WINNING WAYS

BY: Gerry Cantlon, Howlings SPRINGFIELD, MA - The Mass Mutual Center has haunted the Hartford Wolf Pack teams the past three seasons, but the 2019-20 edition of the New York Rangers' AHL affiliates vanquished some ghosts and ended a five-game losing streak Friday night with a 5-2 win over the Springfield Thunderbirds. “It's been a while since we had a win in here,” the Pack’s Matt Belesky said while beaming a grin as he exited for the team bus. The Wolf Pack’s Danny O’Regan had a strong night notching two goals and an assist as the team's veterans paved the way to victory. “Danny’s been solid for us all season, power-play, five-on-five, taking faceoffs on the right side. He’s a very smart hockey player and one that coaches love to have. He is really liked by his teammates, so it's great when you see a hard-working guy like that, have a night like this,” remarked Knoblauch. The team’s approach Friday night was to have solid execution in all three zones and it was pretty evident that they achieved it. “We talked before the game about four lines contributing and snapping a losing streak was one thing. Playing the first of three games in three days, we got everybody contributing and it’s a good way to start a new winning streak,” said Knoblauch while smiling. The Wolf Pack will host the Binghamton Devils Saturday night at 7:30 PM in the back end of a hockey doubleheader that will be preceded by a UCONN-Vermont Hockey East matchup. In the third period, the Wolf Pack scored early on a fine three-way play, leaving no doubt who was going to win this game. Boo Nieves playing in his first game since being sent down by the Rangers earlier in the day, showed strong puck control on a play deep inside Springfield territory. Nieves found defenseman Yegor Rykov streaking in. Rykov made a great backhanded pass to Patrick Newell in front of the net. Newell, in turn, made a gorgeous open-blade redirect for his second goal. The play came at 1:20. It was Newell's first goal in his last nine games. It was Rykov’s first professional point and came in his first game. "That felt good. It’s been a while, and that was an amazing pass by Yegor,” said Newell. Pack goalie, Igor Shesterkin, did his part to shut the door on a two-on-one shorthanded break as he stoned the Thunderbirds' Joel Lowry, who was on the left looking to convert Owen Tippett’s pass at 8:46. With 3:11 to go, Shesterkin calmly stopped Anthony Greco on a dash to the net off the right-wing side. While not having a large quantity of shots, the Wolf Pack had plenty of quality shots on goal in establishing a two-goal, second-period lead. On the powerplay, Vinni Lettieri was in his launch-pad area on the left-wing atop the faceoff circle. He took a cross-ice feed from O’Regan and Thunderbirds goalie Samuel Montembeault could do nothing more than just wave as the rocket Lettieri launched sailed past him at 10:08. It was Lettieri’s seventh goal of the season that started with a clean faceoff win from Lias Andersson. “I haven’t been scoring as much as I like lately. If you keep shooting the puck, you never know what happens, and it doesn’t have to always be pretty. As a goal scorer, you want to hit the back of the net. "We felt good about the win but we're not satisfied. There is room to improve and the power play has to get better,” Lettieri, who leads the team with 18 points after this two-point effort, said. Shesterkin (23 saves) made a big save on Blaine Byron at 5:56 on a rush to the net trying to convert Tippett’s pass just before Lettieri made it 3-2 and the momentum never swung back the other way. “He made some spectacular saves at key points in the game for us, and that one could have made it 3-2 Springfield. Igor makes that save, then Vinni gets a power play goal to make it 3-2 for us. Big play!” Knoblauch said. The Wolf Pack then stretched their lead to two goals with a pair of smart plays to register their fourth goal. Phil Di Giuseppe came behind the Springfield net and left the puck for O’Regan, who was coming around to the left side of the net. Montembeault and the Thunderbirds defense were left confused and O’Regan tallied his second goal of the night at 13:13 on a very surprised goaltender. Riding a five-game losing streak, the Wolf Pack got off to an inauspicious start by surrendering the first goal. Dylan MacPherson, playing his first game since his recall from the Greenville Swamp Rabbits (ECHL) rimmed the puck down the right-wing wall. Dryden Hunt battled with Lettieri and won the puck battle and slipped a short backhanded pass to Henrik Borgstrom in the lower right circle in between three Wolf Pack players. Borgstrom fired a quick snapshot over Shesterkin's glove at 3:54 for his seventh goal in 18 games since being sent back by Florida. The Wolf Pack answered back to tie the game at one. Belesky was all alone on the right-wing at the top of the circle and took a cross-ice pass feed from team captain, Steven Fogarty. Belesky stepped into the pass and blasted a 35-footer past Montembeault for his fifth of the season, and third goal in four games. “That goal was critical because we tie it up and they came back to go ahead, but we got it back at two on Vinni’s goal. Those were two big moments in the game,” remarked Knoblauch. The Thunderbirds took advantage of the powerplay to retake the lead at 2-1. The next shift, after a key save by Shesterkin on Joel Lowry, Montembeault then hand off the puck in the Springfield zone to Kevin Roy. He hit Anthony Greco, a noted Wolf Pack killer over the last two years, and took it in full stride at the Wolf Pack blue line catching Nick Ebert flat-footed. Greco scooted around Ebert went straight to the net and went backhand-to-forehand and slipped his shot just past the outstretched skate of Shesterkin at the short-side post for his eighth goal of the year. The Wolf Pack came back to tie the game at two when Lettieri got a pass and skated straight down Broadway to the net with no resistance. Lettieri slipped a shot on net that was stopped by Montembeault, but the rebound of the shot went off his pads right to O’Regan. The right-handed shot on the left-wing went to one knee and deposited his fifth goal of the season into an open net. It was his first goal and point in five games. “I was going five-hole on him and he made the save, but fortunate for us the rebound went right to Danny,” said Lettieri. Rykov playing in his first North American pro game for the Wolf Pack, wore number 57. He missed about three months due to a high ankle sprain suffered at the Traverse City Tournament in early September. He didn’t look out of place, making a strong but short pass to get out of the zone on a PK situation, getting neutral zone pressure at center ice, he calmly controlled the puck retreated from the fore-checker and didn’t lose possession of the puck and his magnificent passing play on Newell’s goal. “For a first game, when most of your teammates already have 22 to 25 games under their belt and to contribute that way was excellent. He was calm, composed; he’s a very smart hockey player. In a few instances, he didn’t give up possession of the puck and made the safe play with a good outlet pass.” LINES: Andersson-Fogarty-Belesky Nieves-Meskanen-Newell Lettieri-O’Regan-DiGiuseppe Jones-Ronning-Dmowski Raddysh-LoVerde Keane-Geersten Rykov-Ebert SCRATCHES: Jeff Taylor (healthy) Shawn McBride (healthy) Lewis Zerter-Gossage (healthy) Gabriel Fontaine (season-ending shoulder surgery) NOTES: The first period saw some fireworks as the Pack’s Mason Geersten and the rookie Brady Keeper dropped the mitts at center ice and traded some haymakers with 4:51 remaining. Geersten seemed to be the victor of the battle. It was Geersten’s third fighting major. He leads the Wolf Pack in PIM with 33. Keeper has 57 PIMs and is tied for second place in the league with an AHL best, five fighting majors. “Mason is not a soft player. He brings an important element for this team and everybody appreciates him because he is a physical force out there,” said Knoblauch. On Lias Andersson, Knoblauch said, “(It was) the best game he has played since he has been with us.” Springfield acquired the last season's Wolf Pack assistant captain, Rob O’Gara earlier in the day for future considerations. O’Gara was not available for the game. In just five games with the Rampage, O'Gara is a minus-four with six PIM. A poor crowd of just 3,810 on a Friday night with no traffic or weather issues. The Binghamton Devils came out on the short end of a 6-2 loss in Providence to the Bruins on Friday night. Goalie, Corey Schneider, is now 0-3 with a 5.00 GAA since he cleared through waivers and was reassigned two weeks ago. Based on a 76 game AHL schedule his $4.93 million dollar deal is around $65K a game. That falls well short of Wade Redden’s $88K a game record he made when the Rangers assigned him to Hartford back in 2010-2012. UCONN picked up an important Hockey East win over Vermont, 3-1 at the XL Center. They increased their overall record to 6-6-3 overall and their Hockey East conference record goes to 3-4-2. Sophomore Jachym Kondelik broke the tie with a goal giving him a four-point game scoring streak. Russian Ruslan Iskharov, a fellow sophomore, picked up a goal and an assist in the contest. UCONN plays its last game before exams and Christmas break Saturday afternoon at 3:30 PM against a struggling Vermont program (1-10-2 overall, 0-7-1 HEA). Read the full article

#AnthonyGreco #BinghamtonDevils #BooNieves #CHL #DannyO’Regan #DrydenHunt #ECHL #GabrielFontaine #GerryCantlon #GreenvilleSwampRabbits #HartfordWolfPack #Highanklesprain #HockeyEast #Howlings #JachymKondelik #JoelLowry #LiasAndersson #NewYorkRangers #RobO’Gara #RuslanIskharov #SamuelMontembeault #SpringfieldThunderbirds #StevenFogarty #TraverseCityTournament #UConn #VinniLettieri #WadeRedden #XLCenter #YegorRykov

[torentialtribute]

Rangers 1-0 Hibernian: Jermain Defoe earns victory for hosts who have Allan McGregor dismissed

When it comes to Allan McGregor, Rangers get used to the good, the bad and the downright ugly.

The good came with the remarkable instinctive rescue that denied Hib's replacement Florian Kamberi an equalizing goal with three minutes to play.

The bad camera when Ibrox's goalkeeper kicked at Easter Road striker Marc McNulty of the ball seconds later

Rangers goalkeeper Allan McGregor (right) is fired for kicking Marc McNulty (19459006)

Rangers keeper Allan McGregor (right) is fired because he was thrown at Marc McNulty

Rangers keeper Allan McGregor (right) is fired for kicking at Marc McNulty

<img id = "i-6145696a96a04c6" = "https://dailym.ai/2LorQaf" height = "406" width = "634" alt = "< img id = "i-6145696a96a04c6b" src = "https://dailym.ai/2LorQaf" height = "406" width = "634" alt = "<img id =" i-6145696a96a04c6b "src =" https: // i .dailymail.co.uk / 1s / 2019/05/05/18 / 13120550-6995021-image-a-48_1557076582704.jpg "height =" 406 "width =" 634 "alt =" The veteran stopper is forced to take off his gloves To split during the three minute injury time the three minute injury time

<img id = "i-b5123ce25681ca6d" src = "https://dailym.ai/2WPmxkZ /2019/05/05/18/13121072-6995021-image-a-69_1557077051530.jpg "height =" 478 "width =" 634 "alt =" Veteran striker Jermain Defoe turned the winning home goal shortly before half time "

<img id = "i-b5123ce25681ca6d" src = "https://dailym.ai/2VNgKQ6 "height =" 478 "width =" 634 "alt =" Veteran striker Jermain Defoe turned the winning goal shortly before half time "class =" blkBorder img-share "/

Sent a retrospective SFA suspension for a late dropout at Aberdeen & Lewis Ferguson earlier in the season, the former Scottish goalkeeper now becomes a persistent offender . his players followed a series of red cards and made no attempt to hide his frustration.

Young midfielder Ross McCrorie sits among the poles with all three used substitutes

Young midfielder Ross McCrorie sits among the poles with all three used substitutes

The Rangers boss had already used all the subs when McGregor then and midfielder Ross McCrorie, brother of Ibrox goalkeeper Robbie, were pushed in emergency service as a stand-in-keeper when the board time added for three minutes.

McGregor's blood flow to the head means he will now miss next weekend's visit to Ibrox or Celtic

Alfredo Morelos his return from the suspension as a replacement during the second half "as a replacement in the second half"

Alfredo Morelos made his return from the suspension as a replacement during the second half

CONTEST FACTS

FLYERS: McGregor, Tavernier, Goldson, Katic, Flanagan, Jack, Davis, Kamara (McCrorie 80), Arfield, Defoe Kent (Candeias 46).

Foderingham, Halliday, Barisic

HIBERNIAN: Marciano, Gray, McGregor, Hanlon, Stevenson, Milligan (Murray 79), Mallan, Horgan (Agyepong 62), Gauld, Omeonga, McNulty.

] On the positive side for Gerrard – and the support of the Rangers roaring from his return from his return from suspension – Alfredo Morelos is back. The Colombian sub replaced goalkeeper Jermain Defoe in 17 minutes to play and had written off a goal for offside, scoring nearby twice in injury time.

Despite playing against men and midfielder between the sticks Kamberi & # 39; s 87th minute bet on the back post, the Hibs closest to them were when they threw their first division defeat under Paul Heckingbottom. Their first defeat against Rangers in four games, every slim prospect of European football has now disappeared for the Edinburgh side.

A fifth win over the jump for Rangers came thanks to Defoe & # 39; s eighth goal of the season three minutes for half-time.

He had a great opportunity in 19 minutes, collecting a pervasive pass from Captain James Tavernier for dragging his shot over the goal. Minutes before the breakthrough, he blew a nanny, Ryan Jack & # 39; s bustling low blow spilled by Ofir Marciano into the Hibs goal. Eight feet off the veteran striker slipped away and fell, fluffing an easy opening.

<img id = "i-3e41323809e1fddf" src = "https://dailym.ai/2YbOap9 18 / 13121050-6995021-image-a-71_1557077080617.jpg "height =" 705 "width =" 634 "alt =" Steven Davis put down an impressive show in midfield

But the recent revival in Rangers coincided with Defoe and in mid-January Steven Davis – elected man of the competition – signed and found both form and condition. regrets for Rangers that it took so long.With three minutes until Jack Jack dived halfway into the space for Davis on an open left flank, signing a permanent one-year deal on Friday, the Northern Irish exploits the absence of the Hibs defense by sliding the ball to Defoe to end with a conviction.

Like Aberdeen, the Hibs have thorn Rangers-kante n proven.

Undefeated in ten games under Paul Heckingbottom in the competition, the Edinburgh side entered the game in a vein of rich self-belief. It was not clear from the start. Ryan Gauld started his first game under the new manager and operated in a free lane behind Marc McNulty in a 4-2-3-1 formation.

A lack of playing time for the borrowed Sporting Lisbon playmaker was clear that the Hibs had difficulty finding attacking fluency before making way for Florian Kamberi after 62 minutes. Thomas Agyepong replaced Daryl Horgan at the same time that Hibs tried to impress the game. They had a while.

The loan maker Ryan Gauld fought for fluency for Hibernian and he was replaced "class =" blkBorder img-share "/>

Liege Soldier Ryan Gauld fought for fluency for Hibernian and was replaced. Half-time statistics didn't tell lies. Rangers earned their heads.

The home team had 63 percent possession of the ball, ten shots on goal and four on goal, but Hibs did not succeed, the traffic flowed steadily towards the ejection goal, and Rangers should have shown more in the first hour for their dominance.

A free kick from James Tavernier was led by Conor Goldson, Scott Arfield shoved the bar with a long-distance effort, Ryan

The arrival of Daniel Candeias for Kent suggested that Gerrard was not going to let go.

When P After Heckingbottom announced the changes, the Tannoy announcer of Rangers had difficulty disclosing the name of Hib's replacement Agyepong. It must have been a great relief when the substitute threw the Leith-side of the game into Allan McGregor's hand after an over-play of the game and a backlash from captain David Gray in 65 minutes.

The Hibs opportunity reminded Rangers that the game was not yet complete. The calmness in the problems of the home team where Gerrard shook the crowd by pushing fans' favorite Morelos back into action prior to the visit of Celtic champions next weekend

Florian Kamberi forced to rescue McGregor astonishingly after he as replacement came "

<img id =" i-a3e0918eedf1cfe0 "src =" https://dailym.ai/2Ls8eC2 -73_1557077243030.jpg "height =" 351 "width =" 634 "alt =" Florian Kamberi forced to rescue McGregor amazingly after he came as a replacement "McGregor after acting as a substitute"

Florian Kamberi forced a stunning rescue from McGregor after being replaced as [the cheered-in-the-ball-in-the-net] out-of-the-box flagEndeHib forced the equalizerYoung attackerFraserMurrayzawedfuckedfuckedfuckedfuckedfuckedmagged It was also clear in the Union Bears section of Ibrox where – after the recent death of Billy McNeill and Stevie Chalmers – supporters relied on singing about a tasteless, insensitive song about the Lisbon lions and tens. in a row.

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#Rangers 1-0 Hibernian: Jermain Defoe earns victory for hosts who have Allan McGregor dismissed"