#Fine-pitch LED displays

[cinstarled]

Direct View LED vs. LCD Video Walls: Which is better for your space?

Video walls have become a decisive mechanism for enterprises, from retail shops to corporate lobbies and event rooms. With advanced technology, video walls create a spectacular visual experience, drawing engagement and delivering a distinctive platform for branding and communication. Yet, selecting the most acceptable one for your area can be demanding, with choices like Direct View LED and LCD video walls.

Here, we’ll break down the pros and cons of each to assist you in making the correct alternative.

What is a direct-view LED video wall?

A Direct-View LED Video Wall consists of multiple LED panels that instantly emit light, building a dynamic and seamless image. LEDs don’t require a backlight like LCDs to deliver higher brightness and more affluent hues. In contemporary years, Fine-Pitch LED Displays have progressed in this technology, providing a more straightforward and sharper image even from compact spaces.

Direct View LED video walls are stylish for large-scale applications, such as stadiums, shopping centers, control rooms, and corporate events, where brightness and visibility are essential. With a fine-pitch LED video wall, even short text and images are strong, making it an ideal alternative for spaces where people may consider the wall up close.

What is an LCD Video Wall?

An LCD video wall comprises numerous LCD panels to form one large screen. LCDs use backlighting to build images, delivering high clarity and detail at a lower expense than Direct View LED technology. Due to their cost-effectiveness and trustworthy performance, LCD video walls are widely used for indoor areas like conference rooms, digital signage, and retail displays.

Nevertheless, LCD video walls can have visual bezels between panels, which may be diverting if you need a seamless presentation. Nonetheless, they offer exceptional resolution and suit applications needing close viewing and high attributes.

Critical Differences between Direct View LED and LCD Video Walls

Image Quality and Brightness

Direct View LED video walls offer brighter and more vibrant colors, even in brightly lit spaces. LCD video walls can be transparent, but the LED’s self-illuminating panels are ideal for high-impact displays. A Direct View LED may be better if your space demands high brightness, such as outdoor displays or well-lit lobbies.

Seamless Display

Direct-view LEDs can be seamlessly joined without visible gaps, while LCD panels have bezels that create thin black lines between screens. A fine-pitch LED video wall will offer a smooth, uninterrupted viewing experience if a fully continuous image is crucial for your display.

Viewing Distance

Fine-pitch LED displays offer flexibility for both close and far viewing, making them versatile for various environments. On the other hand, LCDs work well for areas where viewers are closer to the screen, like meeting rooms.

Cost and Maintenance

LCD video walls are typically more budget-friendly, with lower initial and maintenance costs. Direct View LED video walls require a higher investment but are more durable, especially in high-traffic areas.

Choosing the Right Video Wall for Your Space

Suppose you want brilliance, a seamless design, and long-term durability. In that case, Direct View LED video walls may be the most suitable choice, especially with the current fine pitch options. An LCD video wall may be more cost-effective for indoor environments with a closer viewing distance while still delivering high resolution.

Ready to transform your space? Choose a video wall that captures your attention and meets your needs.

About the Author: Founded in 2012, Cinstar Electronics is a Chinese LED display manufacturer dedicated to designing and providing high-quality LED products and competitive solutions for various applications. Our team are industry veterans with at least 5 years of experience and have managed thousands of LED projects from rental events to commercial installations. Our products have been exported to over 40 countries and used in high-profile installations and events worldwide.

Cinstar makes no effort to insist on the business principle of “Honesty, Integrity and Responsibility” and is committed to being a trusted LED display manufacturer and integrated service provider. Cinstar has highly comprehensive product lines that cover a wide range of applications like commercial advertisement, the entertainment industry, corporate events, award ceremonies, conferences & meeting and monitor rooms etc. All our LED products are CE, UL, ETL, and FCC certified and compatible with European and American markets.

[muenled]

Understanding of Fine Pitch LEDs, Mini LEDs, and Micro LEDs

In the rapidly advancing world of display technology, Fine Pitch LED, Mini LED, and Micro LED have emerged as key players. For those navigating this landscape, understanding the nuances of each technology is essential. With over a decade of experience in technology blogging, I’m here to demystify these terms and help you choose the right display solution for your needs. What is Fine Pitch…

[pixelvisionuae]

Flexible LED Display Prices Dropping Fast – Here’s Why and What It M eans for You

What Are Flexible LED Displays?

Imagine wrapping a high-definition screen around a pillar or curving it around a stage — that’s the power of flexible LED display. Unlike their rigid cousins, these displays are thin, lightweight, and bendable. They’re made using soft PCB materials and LED chips that can flex without breaking, making them perfect for creative applications.

Read Also:- The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Perfect Scrolling LED Display for Any Need

Where Are They Used?

From futuristic store displays to immersive event setups and even wearable tech, flexible LED screens are popping up everywhere. Retail, entertainment, sports, transportation, architecture—you name it. If a space can be curved or twisted, a flexible LED display can light it up.

Current Market Trends in LED Display Technology

Global Demand Surge

We’re living in a visual age. Digital signage is no longer a luxury; it’s a necessity. That global demand for more eye-catching, dynamic content has lit a fire under LED display innovation.

Innovation and R&D Impact

With tech giants pouring resources into R&D, LED tech has taken massive leaps in performance, efficiency, and, yes—flexibility. Each innovation reduces production costs and improves quality, which is great news for your wallet.

Why Flexible LED Display Prices Are Dropping

Technological Advancements

As manufacturing tech improves, flexible LED panels are becoming easier and cheaper to produce. Better automation, smarter machinery, and upgraded materials have all streamlined the production process.

Economies of Scale

With skyrocketing demand, manufacturers are pumping out more units than ever. And just like buying in bulk at Costco, more volume = lower cost per unit.

Increased Manufacturing Competition

Competition is fierce in the LED market. Chinese, Korean, and American companies are all vying for dominance, and that race is driving prices down for end users.

Reduced Material Costs

With more sustainable and cost-efficient materials now being used—like PET-based substrates and newer chip tech—manufacturers are slashing prices without cutting corners.

Government Incentives and Policies

Many governments are offering subsidies and tax breaks for green and smart tech, which includes LED displays. These incentives make it cheaper for manufacturers to produce and sell at reduced prices.

Impact on the Consumer and Business Markets

More Affordable for Small Businesses

What used to cost tens of thousands is now within reach for local shops and mid-sized event planners. This democratization of tech is leveling the playing field in advertising and promotion.

Entry for DIY and Hobbyist Markets

Want a custom LED wall for your gaming setup or a digital art display at home? You can now find kits that don’t cost an arm and a leg.

Increased Usage in Advertising and Events

Lower prices mean more widespread use in concerts, festivals, and public installations. You’ll start seeing flexible LED displays where you least expect them—on buses, pop-up stores, even fashion shows.

Benefits of Buying Now

High Value for Lower Investment

With prices dropping but quality on the rise, you’re getting a killer deal. The tech has matured, but it’s still early enough to stand out with it.

Early Adoption Advantages

Businesses that jump in now can grab attention with futuristic designs that others haven’t caught onto yet. You get the “wow” factor before it becomes mainstream.

Long-Term ROI Potential

Flexible LEDs are energy-efficient, durable, and low-maintenance. That means lower costs over time and better returns on your upfront investment.

How to Choose the Right Flexible LED Display

Indoor vs Outdoor Use

Outdoor displays need to be weatherproof and brighter. Indoor screens can focus more on resolution and color accuracy.

Pixel Pitch and Resolution

Smaller pixel pitch = higher resolution. For close-up viewing (like retail displays), go for a tighter pitch. For large-scale outdoor screens, you can go bigger.

Durability and Bend Radius

Check the product’s bend radius and flexibility rating. Not all “flexible” LEDs bend the same way—some are better suited for curves, others for folds.

Size and Installation Flexibility

Make sure the screen fits your space and installation needs. Some models are modular and can be rearranged as needed.

Future Outlook of the Flexible LED Market

Continued Price Decline

The trend is only going one way: down. As tech continues to improve, expect even lower prices in the next few years.

Growth of Transparent and 3D Displays

Next-gen flexible LEDs will include transparent displays you can see through and 3D holographic visuals. We’re just scratching the surface here.

Integration with Smart Technology

Think motion-triggered visuals, IoT integration, and real-time data feeds. Flexible displays are on the path to becoming interactive and intelligent.

Final Thoughts

The flexible LED display revolution is here—and it’s more affordable than ever. With prices falling rapidly thanks to advancements in tech, competition, and demand, now is the perfect time to jump in. Whether you’re a business looking to wow customers or a creative looking to bring your vision to life, flexible LEDs are your canvas. And with this tech only set to grow, early adopters stand to gain the most.

FAQs

1. Are flexible LED displays suitable for outdoor use?

Yes, as long as they’re designed for outdoor environments. Look for waterproofing, brightness levels, and temperature resistance in the specs.

2. What’s the difference between flexible and traditional LED displays?

Flexible LEDs can bend and twist, allowing for curved and creative installations. Traditional LEDs are rigid and best for flat surfaces.

3. How long do flexible LED displays last?

On average, they last around 50,000 to 100,000 hours, depending on usage and environment—just like traditional LED panels.

4. Can flexible LEDs be customized for unique shapes?

Absolutely. Many vendors offer custom sizes and shapes tailored for your installation space, from cylinders to waves.

5. Are flexible LED displays hard to install?

Not really. Many come in modular designs and lightweight panels, making setup easier than you’d think. Some even have magnetic mounts or Velcro systems.

[healthcaremmr]

Fine Pixel Pitch LED Displays Market was valued at USD 2.21 Bn in 2023 and is expected to reach USD 6.26 Bn by 2030, at a CAGR of 16.04% during a forecast period.

[halfwayhearted]

https://www.tumblr.com/halfwayhearted/773619905662795776/send-requests-anythingfluff-angst-comfort?source=share

Okay okay okay, so I've been thinking a lil, what about mb like Gavi's or Fermín's girlfriend where like it's OBVIOUS they love each other a lot and like she comes down on the pitch BUT (yes there's a but) the younger players (Toni, Guille, Pau, Lamine YOU KNOW THE DEAL) have like this tini tiny crush on the girlfriend and are just standing in the background watching her and Bf and are so obviously jealous

Sorry for bringing chaos your way <3

And I Love Her — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a well-deserved win, you quickly find your boyfriend down on the pitch and, well, laugh about the background people—not the crowd, but his teammates.

Word Count: 465+

Disclaimer/s — Giggly teenage boys, fluff, fluff, and… fluff!

A/N: I had ideas for this and they vanished but I was determined to stick with it and whatnot. I HOPE YOU LIKED:3

With a displayed seven-to-one score, the team all worked insanely hard, using every opportunity to their advantage. It was definitely a rollercoaster of emotions that led to nothing but pure and utter joy, that emotion only expanding when you saw the very man you came for wave you over. His smile bright, his hair sweaty—it was simply him.

“How are you feeling?” You’re quick to ask when you’re sure he can hear you, your hand coming to squeeze his arm once before finding your side.

“I feel good. Really good. How were your seats?”

“Got to see everyone work up close, so I’d say the seats were amazing.��� With that, he offers a small smile and presses a kiss to your cheek, and you do the same. Preferring to return the action when he makes the first move, you know where you both stand, but you still find it more comforting.

You weren’t quite aware of it yet, but the two of you had an audience. And no, it wasn’t the still packed stadium of people, but his lingering teammates in the back, eyeing the two of you with childish smiles and jealous gazes, nudging one another as if to see who should go up first.

And who it’d be was figured out rather quickly!

He’s about to say something else when a hand pokes his side, causing him to jerk. Both your gazes find Héctor, who only laughs in response. Then Gavi speaks up, “Do you need something?”

“Not from you,” the boy quips, turning his focus onto you with a grin. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“Yeah! It was tense, but good. You played well!”

All he does is widen the smirk on his face. “With what I could, thank you.” Having gotten that out, your boyfriend sees exactly what’s going on. A scoff escapes his lips as he places a hand on the back of Héctor’s neck, pushing him away while pulling you close, leaving the boy to laugh alone.

You giggled softly. “Easy, Pablo. Let’s ease up!”

“I didn’t even push him that hard. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” your boyfriend grumbled, your face lighting up at his tone. “I still have to change. Let’s walk?”

“Are you sick of them looking our way? It’s cute.”

Gavi furrows his eyebrows and whips around, his intense gaze landing on Héctor, Lamine, Balde, and Pau, who quickly avert their eyes the moment he spots them. Their barely suppressed laughter, however, spills out and betrays them all. Stupid!

“Yeah… yeah, I’m sick of them looking our way.”

“Noted,” you retort, looking over your shoulder quickly to shoot them a small wave and a smile.

They returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm, giggling to themselves as though they had just been handed gift cards for their favorite game.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedriache + @spidybaby + @lechrts + @gadriezmannsgirl + @iovepoem + @sakashq @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ (i should’ve made this longer… idk. hi! hi.)

[sirfrogsworth]

Mr. Frog, I have a thought experiment I thought you might enjoy chewing on?

My friend has a copy of Speed on VHS, a VCR, and a CRT tube TV. I challenged him to stream Speed to us over a Discord video call by pointing a webcam at the CRT, and he said it wouldn't work because the lighting and reflections would make it too difficult to see the CRT screen.

Ignoring the artifacts introduced by streaming a CRT (screen flicker/frame roll/whatever you call it, compression artifacts, etc), how would you light one to be recorded with enough clarity to be able to watch the content being played on the TV? In this case, the TV is on one of those ceiling mounted racks in the corner of the room, like what used to be in some classrooms and waiting rooms back before LED/LCD panels got cheap.

TVs are emissive, so the trick is not how to light them, but how to block light from causing interference.

The easy answer is a pitch black room, but that isn't always possible.

But even a moderately dark room is usually fine. The closer the camera is to the TV, the brighter the TV will be relative to the other lights. And since light is competitive, if your room lights are fairly dim, and your camera is close to the TV, it should capture pretty well. The light from the TV will outcompete all the other room lights.

That won't stop specular highlights though.

These are direct reflections caused by light sources. They ignore the competitive light thing due to fancy science.

So you may have to play with angles. If you can make sure all light sources are behind the screen, that would be optimal. But you just need those specular sources to not be reflecting directly off the TV and into the camera. Photographers have to play with angles like this to photograph people with glasses. We just move the lights around until we can't see them reflecting.

If that isn't possible, you may have to create a hood for your display. You can google "monitor hood" to see the typical design, but you can just use cardboard from a shipping box. Just tape a square to the side or sides that need to block direct reflections.

You could even put a blanket over the TV and camera.

And if you do want to get rid of flickering and banding...

The best way to capture CRT is to match frame rate and shutter speed.

NTSC (North America) is roughly 60Hz and PAL (UK/Europe) is 50Hz.

So you'd need a camera that can do 60fps and has the ability to adjust the shutter speed to a multiple of 60. 1/60 or 1/120 usually. Not all webcams have this control, so you may not be able to cancel out these artifacts.

There is a great video about it here...

[dear-aubade]

Tainted Prayers: Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Asylum AU

← PART ONE | PART THREE →

Notes: Religious themes, cultists, topics may be sensitive to readers

You were led down a long hallway with beige water-damaged walls. The tiles were freezing beneath your feet, each step bringing your toes closer and closer to becoming icicles. You shivered, pulling the sweatshirt closer around your neck to try and block out the cold.

There were two people leading you—one a man with close-cropped carrot hair and the other a woman with dark skin and hazelnut irises. They sort of looked like the eyes of the nice man from before, the one who’d collected you from the bus. You didn’t know where he’d gone. Soon after he’d led you inside he’d been summoned away for some sort of other task that needed attending to.

You clenched your hands to stop them from shaking. You’d heard of this place, of course. Everyone had. Silver Lake Asylum was supposed to be a home for the insane, the wild, those that weren’t human enough to function on their own. Those who had been kissed by the devil instead of blessed by God.

You didn’t think you were insane, but…well, crazy people never thought they were crazy, right? You’d been told you were. Aunt Bea had said so, and after that night….

The orange-haired man opened a metal door to your right and you winced at the high-pitched squeal the hinges let out.

You froze.

“Let’s go,” the man said, prodding you forward.

You nearly stumbled, shaking your head. “No, no I can’t, I—”

He pushed you forward again, this time into the room. Showers lined the walls with water-stained silver handholds; rust clung to some of the drains embedded in the ceramic tile floors.

Your vision started to blur with tears as you shook your head more violently. “Please don’t—I—”

Memories assaulted you, ones of you huddled and shivering beneath a frozen stream of water with purple lips, the smell of mold on porcelain making you gag…

You were suddenly shaken. Shocked out of your daze, you looked up to find the woman gripping your shoulders, her brow creased. When your gaze met hers her face relaxed.

“She’s fine,” she said to the man without looking at you. His nose was wrinkled as if disgusted by your tears.

“Let’s just…get her a bucket and washcloth or something instead,” he muttered. He seemed almost uncomfortable by your display. His boots were swift as he exited the room.

Twenty minutes later you were as clean as you could be without a proper shower, dressed in white scrubs with a brown-orange stain on the hem of one of the sleeves. Your toes were no longer frozen—you’d been given white socks with sticky texturing on the bottom to keep you from slipping.

Your room was bland. White walls, white floor, white sheets. There was a single chair in the corner of the room facing the bed, also white. There was no window and there were bars covering the light fixture—most likely to prevent any patients from breaking the glass bulb and using the jagged shards as a weapon, either against others or themselves.

Despite being warmer than before, you hadn’t stopped shivering. Was this supposed to be your new life? Never feeling the sunlight on your skin again? Never seeing the sky? Tremors wracked your body and you felt another wave of panic, followed by a smaller flare of self-disgust. You were pathetic. How many times had you broken down today? How many times had tears clouded your vision, had fear fuzzed your mind? How many times—

There was a quiet beep and your door opened. An unfamiliar man walked through (but then again, wasn’t everyone unfamiliar these days?).

He had strawberry blond hair that receded from a round, wrinkled forehead—wrinkles far too deep for someone middle-aged. His chin was pointed, his nose even more so.

The skin crinkled around his blue eyes as he gave you a friendly smile. “Well hello there,” he said, shutting the door behind him. The lock clicked.

You didn’t respond and your eyes followed him as he sat down in the white chair across from you. He was dressed in a simple button down and slacks.

He studied you for a moment before extending a hand. “I’m Bishop David, the head of this institution.”

You didn’t shake his hand.

Bishop David nodded as he pulled it back and gave an understanding smile. “I hope you’ve settled in alright, though I heard you gave Joseph and Maria some trouble at the showers.”

At this, you squirmed uncomfortably. “I don’t like water,” you whispered.

“Ah.” He leaned back in his chair. “Well, we all have things that irk us, don’t we?”

You didn’t respond.

“Quiet, aren’t you?” He cocked his head and his eyes took on a strange look, as if he were trying to look through you. He clasped his hands. “You were brought here for a very serious reason, you know. Your aunt—she was a good woman.”

You looked down.

“And a good woman’s judgment should be trusted, shouldn’t it?” He leaned forward a bit.

He spoke your name.

You looked up.

“You’re unclean,” he said softly. “You’ve been touched by the devil, been shunned by God. Your aunt was wise to hand you over. You shouldn’t be ungrateful for your circumstances.”

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

“We’re going to help you,” he said intently. “But to do that, you need to admit to yourself first that you are tainted. Your soul is evil. You must understand that.”

You didn’t say anything. Tears welled on your lashes.

Bishop David let out a small exhale and stood. “I expected denial, but none as strong as this. The devil is working hard on you.” He gave you a small smile. “Don’t worry. We’re going to help.”

And with that, he turned and walked out of the room.

Days passed. The asylum staff didn’t give you a calendar, nor did you ask for one. What was the point? You weren’t getting out of here anytime soon. You didn’t deserve to.

The routine was the same each day. In the morning you’d wake to a plate of cheese and bread set on your bedside table for breakfast. Lunch was beef jerky and crackers, and dinner was soup. At night the lights would shut off, leaving you in pitch blackness.

Nights were always the hardest. You couldn’t sleep, not when you could practically feel the darkness pressing in on you from all sides, like it was strangling you. You’d wrap yourself in your blanket and curl into a ball to try and hide, but how could you escape something that was everywhere all at once?

You could practically feel yourself wasting away; not just your body, but your mind as well. You had no one to talk to, nothing to do. The only time you saw the outside of your cell was when you were led to the restroom by an armed guard.

Today you were sat criss-cross on your thin mattress, picking at the crust of your bread, getting ready for another day of staring at the wall with empty eyes when you heard a small beep.

Your door opened a moment later and in stepped him.

He didn’t look any different than he did on the day he’d collected you from the bus. Square face, tired eyes, Roman nose. His beard was flecked with gray, same as his brown hair along the temples. He was dressed the same as he was before—black button down, black slacks, black shoes. The only thing that wasn’t dark was the white of his clerical collar.

“Mornin’,” he said in his deep, rumbling bass of a voice.

“Good morning,” you said softly. You watched as his dark silhouette moved to take a seat in the white chair, a spill of ink against paper.

He was holding a thick leather bound book in his hand. “You, uh, get settled in alright?”

You shrugged.

“Bishop David told me he came to see you. Said you were…on the quieter side.”

“I didn’t have anything to say to him.”

The man’s thick brow furrowed and he seemed to study you for a moment before he shook his head to dismiss whatever thoughts were swirling in his mind. “Well, I’m Father Miller. I’m going to be helping you in your reformation.”

You gave him your name as well, but it was more for the sake of formality. Did this man really think he could help you? You were bad—you were unclean.

“What’s that?” You asked, nodding to the book in his hands.

“Oh, this? S’the Bible.”

Of course. You shouldn’t have expected anything else.

“Are you going to read to me?”

Father Miller nodded. “Is—“

“Why?”

He cocked his head. “What d’you mean, ‘why?’ Do you not want me to?”

“No, I just…” You fidgeted. “Do you really think it will help me?” What good would hearing such holy words do if you were already damned?

“Bishop David says it will, and I…I trust him.”

Your eyes flicked down as Father Miller’s large hands opened the book.

“S’this alright?” he asked, his voice suddenly so soft and honey sweet it made you want to hear it again. You nodded.

Father Miller’s eyes fell to the book in his hands.

And he began to read.

[samkerrworshipper]

ephiphany | lucy bronze x reader

warnings: homophobia, mentions of overdose, grief, death

You thought you were getting better, or happier at least.

You cleaned your room, or you tried to. You worked out, well you walked into your home gym and then turned around as soon as your foot hit the floorboards. You left the house, or you sat in your backyard for a total of five minutes. All the things your therapist was telling you were for the best, all the right things.

Now, you’re lying on your couch - because yours is messy because clean for you is more about removing any major tripping hazards in comparison to actually cleaning. Everything feels like it’s slipping away from you.

You can’t do much more than stare at the blank wall in front of you, the one part of your living room that you choose to keep blank for this reason exactly. Every single other wall is adorned with shelves, paintings, trophies, photos, but this strip of plain white plaster is completely blank. It’s an island of peace in a room full of noise.

You can’t help but wonder why everything that's led to this has happened, why the cookie had to crumble this way for you.

Lucy’s on the phone in the kitchen, yelling at someone or something, Narla is lying beside you on the couch, absolutely desperate for your attention, something that you are yet to award her, Narla is trembling slightly, she hates when Lucy yells, the both of you do. You can’t help but think of all the bad things, can’t stop thinking. No matter how many of the pictures on the walls that you look at, or the art displayed on the plaster it’s just too much, too much for your brain to handle.

You’ve been trying to tell yourself for weeks now that you’ll get over it, that you’ll be good and happy and everything is going to be fine, because if it isn’t then everything is fucked. Everything you’ve ever worked for or wanted is gone.

You thought life was getting better, you thought you were going to return to the pitch, out of respect for Jonatan you were getting annoyed at yourself that you hadn’t gotten on the pitch yet, because it had been fucking weeks, and all you had accomplished was a messy room and a lot of tears.

Grief sucked.

Having your mom die from a fucking overdose was the freight train that you never expected to hit.

But when it did it was fucking carnage, a fucking wreck that had torn your life to pieces in a matter of minutes.

Maybe you’d hurt her, maybe she’d hurt you, maybe you were careless and didn’t think about how leaving your family would hurt her, maybe your choices had resulted in her death.

She was understanding until you told her you were gay.

She cared about you until you told her you were moving to Barca to be with Lucy.

She was your biggest supporter until you told her that you were so scared of how your father would react that you needed to move so he didn’t find out when you were in the house with him.

Maybe you could’ve been the bigger person, faced your fear.

Maybe, had you stayed and protected your mother from your fathers wrath she would still be alive.

But you left.

And maybe all the ‘hurt people hurt people’

Bullshit is true, maybe your mom only hurt you because of how much your father hurt her. Maybe she was just another example of the cycle of abuse that was so fucked up.

But that didn’t make it any easier, didn’t make it any easier to acknowledge that your last conversation with your mom ever was her screaming at you about how you were going to hell because of who you loved.

It’s been a little over a month or so since you visited her grave.

You remember the woman who had been visiting the grave next to you asking if you were okay, you didn’t know how to answer her.

In a matter of seconds of replying ‘yes’ you were gone, leaving behind a part of you that you never wanted to face again.

You saw the life drain from Lucy’s face as you confessed to her all of your guilt in the car ride back to Leah’s house, where you were staying for the weekend.

Lucy held your trembling body in her arms, holding onto you as tight as she could and promising she’d never let go, and she didn’t.

She could feel you slipping away out from under her, when your shared bed started to turn into a nest of blankets and you refused to let Lucy clean it up, when you made her take down every single photo you had of your family, desperate to remove any traces of them from your life, Lucy watched as you refused to eat anything, watched as your body began to thin and the bags under your eyes only got bigger.

Her therapist told her that everyone had a grief process, everyone processed death differently, but she was watching you kill yourself in the process of greiving your mother, and it gutted her.

In the six years that the two of you’d been dating she’d met your mother once, and that has been as a friend, not a girlfriend. You’d told Lucy about your families homophobic views, but she just couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t comprehend how someone so amazing and loveable could have her whole family turn on her just for who she loved.

You let go of them though, washed your hands of their blood and let them run down the sink. It had been hard for you, losing a whole support system, but you’d worked through it, Lucy had been there for every single step of the way.

But right now, she felt more lost than ever, you were like a ghost in her arms.

When Lucy finally did finish on the phone she walked into the lounge room, to find you bunched up in the blankets on your couch, staring at the same spot that you always seemed to be looking at. The same spot that a month ago had held the picture of your mother and you, from your England debut. It was your favourite picture, the both of you beaming from ear to ear, you’d never felt like she’d been more proud of you then she was in that moment.

It had come down though, a month ago when you’d gotten rid of every single trace of your family that was left in your shared apartment. It had shattered Lucy seeing the very little evidence there was of your family being completely stripped from your house, on every edge of the apartment there was some sort of proof of Lucy’s family, whether it was pictures of her nieces and nephews or little mementos from trips or memories.

Lucy walked around the front of the couch, to spot that there were cold, still tears dripping down your face.

“Baby, everything okay?”

It was hard getting through to you nowadays, you were like a locked up safe, it was hard to get much out of you.

When Lucy realised that her soft tone had done absolutely nothing to penetrate your spaced out mind she raised her voice a little bit, taking a step closer to you and blocking your view of the wall just slightly.

“Baby, you okay?”

Your eyes snapped up to Lucy’s face, your jumper sleeve moving directly up to your face to wipe the tears off of your face.

“She’s gone, Luce.”

Your words were a murmur, hardly pronounced but Lucy caught them.

She slipped onto the couch beside you, opening her arms to you and smiling to herself as you climbed into her lap almost immediately, your arms wrapping around her neck like she was a lifeline.

“She’s fucking gone and I never told her that I loved her or that I forgave her or that I understood her struggles, she’s gone and I-I how am I supposed to live in a world where my mother didn’t love me or want me?”

It was so hard to hear those words leave your mouth, that you felt like you were unwanted, because you weren’t. You’d found a family in Barcelona with Lucy, your teammates were your family and they loved you more than enough, but they weren’t your blood.

“Sweetheart, do you actually believe that those things are true? That she deserved to be told you loved her when she didn’t deserve it?”

Your sob was enough of an indication of your answer and Lucy only held onto you for longer.

“She didn’t want me.”

Lucy didn’t know what to say to that, because she couldn’t lie to you and tell you that your mother did love you or want you, she couldn’t lie to you. Your mother was like a oxymoron of sorts, because in no way had she behaved in a way that was motherly or loving, she had canned you because of who you were, and that was fucking horrible, it sucked.

“I know baby, but I do, I love you so much, we’re going to get through this.”

Lucy wasn’t sure if you would get through this, she didn’t know how many works your body could do this for, how long you could struggle, how much longer you could let yourself be pulled apart by the death of your mother, how much pulling you could deal with before the scars were simply to big for you to be repaired.

She knew she’d lost parts of you since it happened that she might never get back, parts of you that she so desperately missed, which felt horrible, because it felt illegal to miss parts of your lover, but she did, she war mourning her own life with you that had faded away when she died.

Lucy didn’t know if you’d ever be kay, she prayed to every star that you would, that tomorrow, or next week, or next month she;d get a part of her girl back, a sign that you were okay, she was waiting for that, waiting so patiently for a sign that you were still in there somewhere, that your mother hadn;t taken you to the grave with her, that you weren’t just a skeleton walking around anymore.

———————————————————————

yeah so poll is voting for more big fics but this little drabble ideas has been in my head for a few days and i had a few fiq reqs for grief angst so here it is xo

[kittynugg]

heyyyy guess what i write sometimes too

words: 3,821 im really rusty with writing so uhh read up idk

Stanford Pines had always been a loner.

The stone-cold, action movie hero type of man who never needed anything from anybody. Certainly not companionship.

It was dark. Eleven-thirty, an hour after his niece and nephew had finally stopped bugging him. The boy, who had introduced himself as “Dopper”, “Roderick”, and “Dipper”, had asked him enough questions to make his head spin and English stop making sense to him. And he enjoyed answering questions! 

The jury was still out on his name.. All of those seemed cruel to name a child, especially “Roderick”. What he did know for sure was that his nephew was rather sharp for his age. Hence the gratuitous questions.

Mabel, whose name he knew from the girl repeatedly introducing herself in what almost seemed to be a sugar-fueled record skip, asked more about rather childish things like his favorite color (red) and animal (plaidypus). Then, of course, Stanley shooed them away come ten-thirty so they could go to bed and he could have a moment of peace.

Several hours of peace.

Thank the stars.

He decided to spend these hours awake so as to savor them. Also because he couldn't seem to get to sleep, but that wasn't the focus of his reasoning. The nonstop questions, the footsteps pounding on the floor above him and voices shriek-laughing, it was miserable. And Stan had done his best to keep them away from him! It was preferable, yet almost offensive.. Like he was some kind of monster they needed to be protected from.

“As far as I'm concerned, they're the only family I have left.” Fine. Maybe he was a monster. But he was a monster with a job to finish; dismantling the portal. He’d spent the hour since the kids had gone to bed at work, and a well-deserved break was in order.

And so he found himself in the kitchen. Pitch darkness was broken by the refrigerator light as he opened it up and sifted through it. He moved a box of Pitt Cola aside to find a rather captivating prize in the back of the fridge, a six-pack of beer with a sticky-note reading “STAN’S B SODA DO NOT TOUCH” attached to the cardboard handle of the carrier.

Now, Ford was never quite fond of alcohol, but it had been thirty years since he’d tasted Earth alcohol. A mix of curiosity, temptation and the desire to stick it to his brother that person living upstairs won over the simple thought of “I don’t really like this stuff.”

Also he didn’t want to think about why he couldn’t sleep and stress was a bitch.

A six-fingered hand carefully removed the sticky note, and he took out a pen to write on it. 

“Very convincing, Knucklehead. -Stanford Pines” was written in neat cursive. He took a bottle of “soda” from the pack and stuck the square of yellow paper back onto it. With the beer in-hand and his journal tucked away in his coat for writing, he realized he would need a private place to unwind. The basement was stuffy. Clearly Stan hadn’t taken care of the ventilation system. Another one of his messes he would have to clean up. 

The ideal place would have fresh, cool air, and no “family” to bother him. Unlike that person living upstairs, he didn’t have family. He’d left that behind years ago. There simply wasn’t room for family in his life, not with the dark path he trekked. Destiny wanted him alone and so alone he was.

He dramatically looked to the window as he tried to sip from his closed beer bottle, then glared at it as if it’d dampened his melodramatic display on purpose. But then his eyes darted back up to the window. Fresh air, check. It was outside in the woods. No family, check. Everyone was asleep anyway. 

Bingo! He would sit outside for a while! With a pinch of luck, Stan hadn’t removed the ladder leading up to the roof. A beer and journaling in the great outdoors. That was just what he needed tonight.

A short walk into the, ugh, gift shop led him to where the ladder used to reside, now obscured by a blue curtain but still there. The bottle was stored in his coat (it had the perfect little pocket for it, he normally stored a gun in it) so he could climb the ladder with both hands.

He opened up the hatch in the ceiling to poke his head out and look around, and once he was sure nothing was there to watch him he pulled himself up and through. Aged roof tiles nearly slipped out from under his feet as he stepped onto them. Stan’s laziness was going to kill him someday, he swore to god.

Or.. Whatever was up there, he thought as he looked to the stars.

There was a nice, flat edge he could sit on above one of the attic windows. And when he glanced up there, he even saw a chair and cooler! Absolutely not the doing of that person- Stan, too wordy, because Stan was deathly afraid of heights. And the large one (Zeus?) seemed to listen to whatever he said. The only person left to be the culprit had to have been the teenage girl working the counter, Mabel and his nephew were out of the question. Too short and weak to bring anything up there.

Wendy, on the other hand, was the daughter of “Boyish Dan” Corduroy, and he’d seen that man in the gift shops. No longer boyish, and no longer non threatening. He could snap a person in half like a toothpick and then use them as a toothpick. Logically, his children would inherit that strength. 

He climbed onto the edge and parked himself up on the chair. A relaxed sigh broke the near-silence of the night, only crickets and the rustling of wind through trees serving to serenade him.

Until he heard the pitter-patter of footsteps. Light ones, and they made muted clicks against the floor below the open hatch. He recognized the sound as Mabel’s slippers. So he wasn’t surprised when he saw her head poke up to look around. Surprised that she was awake, maybe, but not surprised that it was her.

When they locked eyes for a second Ford quickly looked away, figuring that eye contact would make her come closer and knowing that he didn't want that, then opened up his beer.

Ignore it and it might go away.

Unfortunately for his me-time she did not. Instead, she climbed up herself, smiling at him as if it wasn't far past her bedtime. She didn't even look tired. A sip was taken from the brown glass bottle, he figured he would need it even more now- oh that tasted disgusting.

“Grunkle Ford!” The girl skipped up to him with practiced ease. Not a single tile shifted under her feet, which prompted him to wonder how she did it. He didn’t get the chance to ask before she flung herself beside him onto the lawn chair. It nearly tipped over with the force, causing him to flinch and shoot a subtle glare at her anything-but-subtle.. self.

She looked at him with a pair of wide, innocent eyes. “You come up here, too?” Asked Mabel with a glance down at his beer. The way her brows furrowed indicated that she knew what it was, and why he might be drinking it alone in the middle of the night. So what if he was a little stressed? “Wendy comes up here to get out of doing stuff at work..” Her eyes flicked back up to his face with the addition.

He took a drink, then got off of the chair so she could fully sit. Maybe she’d put a damper on his night but she didn’t deserve to be cramped on the edge of the chair or on the roof tiles. And maybe he didn’t want to be cramped on a chair with her. Human contact (or any contact with a living being that didn’t involve violence) had become– Was always very foreign to him. Standing with one arm folded behind his back and the other holding his bottle, he spoke.

“I did take her for the aloof type.” Like all teenagers, Wendy was uncaring and scared him with her insincere compliments and new age “computing phone”. He could name a single teenager who he wasn’t afraid of and that teenager had grown up to be a waste. “I don’t usually come up here, no, but I would before your other Uncle came along.”

The discouraged look that flashed behind her eyes wasn’t unnoticed by Ford, despite how quickly it was replaced with determination. A determination that made him nervous. “You mean Grunkle Stan.” With insistence masked by harmlessness she smiled up at him. Like the correction wasn’t at all hostile.

“..Right. Stanley,” relented Stanford before sitting on the roof tiles to be a little closer to her level. She didn’t seem satisfied by that, and gestured expectantly for him to continue. What? What else was he supposed to say? “What, what’s this?” He mimicked the movements of her hands with an arched eyebrow.

Apparently that was the wrong answer, he assumed, watching as her eyes narrowed at him. “And who is Stan?”

“..Your.. Great Uncle? We went over this seconds ago.” He’d have to run some tests later, he was concerned for her memory. 

Luckily, she elaborated, “who is he to you?” Ah. She could have just said that was what she wanted. He didn’t even think about his answer before it slipped from his mouth. “My twin brother.”

“That’s right!” Mabel jumped up with a beam, yelping at the chair nearly toppling over. Acting on reflex he placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Once she was stable again, he moved away and resumed his original position, hands subtly and habitually hidden behind his back.

“Be careful,” he scolded, “a fall from that height is enough to break bones.” ..Said the one drinking alcohol, which stunted one’s coordination. Maybe he was being a hypocrite. Nevertheless his statement was still valid, he was much better equipped to fall off of a roof than her. 

A sheepishly muttered apology from her sent a pang of.. Was that guilt? Yes, he felt guilty for scolding her. If these kids were going to be living under his roof for a while, he supposed he’d have to get used to scolding them in a way that didn’t cause fear or shame. That never worked on Stan when they were young.

It must have been why he ended up so.. Unruly, into adulthood. Because he lacked the proper discipline. 

No use dwelling on it, he needed to find out what Mabel was doing up. Sleep was crucial to a growing child and by the looks of it neither of the children had been getting enough. “What are you doing awake? It’s an hour past your bedtime.” 

His eyes barely caught a mischievous smirk plastered on the girl’s face before she turned her head. Then she looked back at him with that same ‘I’m an angel and would never do anything wrong!’ face, but this time with a hint of.. Sorrow?

“Grunkle Ford.. Do you ever feel, um..” The vulnerable tone she spoke in hit him right in the hardwired paternal instincts. ”Sad?” As she continued it seemed almost like another little sparkle appeared in those eyes of hers, which didn’t help 

Naturally, in spite of his.. Awkwardness around children, or humans in general, he hoped to curb this sadness. What to say, though? According to his research females were at higher risk of experiencing depressive symptoms than males. With any luck this “sadness” she spoke of wouldn’t be related to that. She was getting to the age where he’d started experiencing.. Mental troubles of the like.

“Occasionally,” he decided upon answering, “but sadness is an emotion everyone exper-”

She interrupted him. “That isn’t really what I mean.” Hm. That wasn’t looking good for the depression theory. “I mean, like.. Lost? And kinda alone?”

He pretended to consider her question, though immediately knowing the answer. Did he feel lost? Yes. Give him time, he’d find himself. Did he feel alone? Yes, but it was better that way. His life was too dangerous to share with another person.

So he answered, “well, yes. But you have your brother by your side. You aren’t alone at all.” Always a confusing feeling. Loneliness despite being surrounded by people. Oddly enough, he didn’t seem to feel that now. “Have you been feeling that way?” 

“I know I’ve got Dipper,” ah, so that was his name, “but do you have anyone? I heard you and Stan talking. You don’t sound really happy.” Her brows knitted together as she seemed to scrutinize his expression, an expression that had gone just as thoughtful as hers. A little offended, frankly.

This wasn’t about him. Since when was this about him?

He was perfectly happy, for her information. Dusty old college textbooks, paranormal creatures and the fungi growing in the basement that made him woozy were enough company for him.

“I have the cycloptopus, it’s..” words trailing off, he remembered that the cycloptopus wasn’t a good conversationalist and liked escaping its jar to try and eat his flesh. It was actually kind of a jerk if you asked him. 

Mabel finished his sentence for him, “a weird creepy monster that doesn’t count?”A little amused grin worked its way into her features. “You need a person! Then you won’t feel alone anymore!”

He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off in a reprimanding tone. “A human person. Like.. Someone you’ve known for a really long time!” She made a circular gesture with her hands, seeming to expect him to get a point she was trying to make. “Someone you’ve known since, I don’t knooooow.. The womb..?”

“I don’t follow,” admitted Ford with hunched shoulders. Since the womb.. Who had he known “since the womb”? 

As it would turn out, that was not the response she was looking for, made evident by the palm she slapped to her forehead. The smile remained on her face but felt.. Customer service-like. Forced. “Someone you know really well. Or, at least, you did.. You’ve gotta know who I’m talking about.”

“I.. I really don’t, Mabe-” and then it hit him! “..You want me to reconcile with Stanley because you think I’m lonely.” That called for a nice, big drink of his beer. What a laughable request! Stan ruined his life and she wanted him to walk up to him and treat him like a person!? After he sold his soul to this “Mystery Shack” nonsense, Ford wasn’t sure if he could still call himself a person. But Mabel seemed almost excited at his correct assumption.

She chirped, “yeah! You said I have Dipper, but you don’t have anyone right now.” An empathetic gaze was directed up at him. “Wouldn’t it be a little better if you and Stan stopped being all stupid with each other?” Being called stupid hurt his (extremely) delicate ego. “..You know you’re kind of a dum-dum. And it just makes me kinda sad.” She despairingly looked at her feet.

Ooh, there were those paternal instincts again. Something about the glum look in her eyes implored him to just.. Fix it. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t annoying. With a sigh, he looked at his bottle, then poured it out over the edge. The bottle was set on the roof beside him when it was void of the bitter liquid he’d been drinking. Beer was awful, anyway.

“..Maybe I’m being a little rash, sweetie,” that slipped out, but caused Mabel’s expression to light up just a little. “Sweetie”. Ignore it. You aren’t getting attached to them, they’ll be gone in Autumn. “But you can’t expect me to just forgive Stanley.” For all he’d done? Hah! He’d have to be insane to even think about it.

She laughed softly at him, like it was silly he’d even say that. “Not yet, Grunkle Ford! I get mad at Dipper sometimes, too.” Tiny hands rose to fidget with her hair. “And it’s really hard to get over that. I think if Dipper ruined my dreams, then pushed me into some crazy-bonkers nightmare dimension I’d be mad at him for, like, a bazillion years!” Her shoulders arched in a shrug. “But we always say we’re sorry and hug it out after we’re done being big ‘ol grumps about it.”

A “big ‘ol grump”. She was calling him a “big ‘ol grump”.

“And then we’re happy again! Being all mad at Dipper is the worst, you can’t like being mad at Stan all the time.” It wasn’t something he explicitly enjoyed, no, but it was necessary. 

..Send him to the Theraprism, damnit, he’d finally lost it.

Ford ran a stressed, slightly uncoordinated hand through his hair. Certainly the alcohol was influencing this, but.. “Okay, you make a good point. I admit, I’m.. Not ready to reconcile with him. But when I am, I will.” He smiled faintly at her.

“Are you sure you’re gonna?” Mabel raised an eyebrow and squinted at him. “..I’m putting on my skepticals.” Then she made circles around her eyes with her fingers. He’d be damned, they did make her seem rather skeptical. 

So, he used an age-old technique that would surely convince her. “..Pinky-promise,” he crouched to her level, extending his extra finger. “This one’s a full finger more sincere.” A warm chuckle sealed the deal.

Or, well, Mabel’s giggle and pinky wrapped around his did.

“Pinky-promise.”

Ford tugged his sweater sleeves down and took a breath. It’d been four days since Weirdmageddon and one since Stan finally remembered him, finally remembered at least some of the good times and.. The worst of the bad. 

Since the moment Mabel’s “scrapbook therapy” sessions began to focus on him he’d been apologizing, but they’d all been met with confusion. “Yeah, uh..  I don’t even know what you did.” Now that Stan knew who he was he figured now would be a good time to make good on that pinky-promise. 

“Stanley?” He piped up, head poking into the living room. The television blared with the latest “The Duchess Approves” movie (which was probably made in the Jurassic era) and Stan was parked up on the armchair watching it.

Without even looking up, Stan greeted, “hey, Ford.” Surprisingly, the lack of attention and aloofness in his voice were comforting. He didn’t have to think about who the man in front of him was, he wasn’t tentative, he seemed to just know Ford as his brother.

The folding chair beside him attracted Stanford like a moth to a flame. He invited himself to sit on it and turned to Stan, then idly turned to watch the movie with him.

“You are insufferable, Lionel!” Boomed the Duchess, slipping the diamond wedding ring off of her finger. “If you only want me for riches I suggest you sell this.” She flicked the ring across the table without even looking up at the count’s shocked expression.

As she stood, she adjusted her hat and sharply turned to leave. “Good day.”

“But- But Duchess, you must reconsider!” Count Lionel stood to give chase–

And that was about when the movie lost his attention. It was so dry, the script must have taken ten minutes to write! He looked at Stan; completely engrossed in the crappy movie. “So..” he cleared his throat a couple of times to get his twin’s attention. When he grumpily turned to him, he spoke. “I understand that you’re very absorbed in your movie,” muttered Ford apologetically, “but I’d like to talk about the past forty-or-so years.”

“Eh.” A hand was waved at him. “After the movie.”

He didn’t think he had a choice, so he miserably looked back at the television.

The next ten minutes were painful. But, well, it was only ten minutes and he’d certainly been tortured with worse and for longer. Four days ago. His hands subconsciously moved to rub his arms at the thought. A relieved sigh escaped him as the movie finally ended, and Stan gave him his attention.

“Good movie, right?” He nudged his shoulder. “Ah, past forty years or whatever, let’s talk.” An arm was slung over the armrest, Stan making himself comfortable.

Ford gave a muttered, lied comment about the movie being “okay” and rested his hands in his lap. “I figured I should.. Give a formal apology. For..” He subtly consulted the written topic on his palm. ‘BEING MEAN AND BAD’ was written in pink gel pen by Mabel minutes before he entered the living room. 

That did not help.

“..being a bad brother.” He’d been horrible, really, he was supposed to protect Stan as his older brother (every minute counts with twins) but instead he went and ruined his life. “I don’t know how I could ever make it up to you, or repay you for bringing me back, I–”

He was silenced by a barked laugh from Stanley. “Repay me? Jeez, you think I’m some kinda loan shark?” A snort slipped past his defenses with the laughter, not without a grumbled ‘ew’. 

Ford, of course, figured that was exactly how it was, so he slowly nodded.

“..Moses– I don’t want shit from you. You being alive’s enough for me.” His words weren’t without a glance around to ensure that there weren’t any kids around. Then he shifted to wrap an arm around Ford’s shoulders and tug him into a little side-hug. 

That was a feeling Stanford missed, so he leaned into it. He couldn’t help a mumbled protest to Stan’s acceptance, “but I ruined your life. Twice! No, three times now.” The project, the portal, and the memory erasure during Weirdmageddon. Thinking about them all in quick succession gave him a churning feeling in his stomach that he hated. 

And yet, Stan shrugged it off. “And? I ruined your life too. You ask me, I should be the one sayin’ sorry.” Oh, please. Ford almost laughed at that. Giving everything he had was enough of an apology for the rest of his twin’s life. He just hoped he could share that life with him.

“No, Stanley.. I honestly feel my life’s been improved significantly. Dipper and Mabel have been delightful, not to mention you–” Once again he was rudely interrupted, this time with a rough pat on the head.

“See what I mean? I’m glad you’re here too. That’s all I want.” His eyes flicked back to the TV as the credits for some other awful period drama came on. “Ooh, this is a good one.”

As the screen slowly stole Stan’s attention from Ford, he thought about his words. Just being there? That was all Stan wanted?

..He could do that.

[lunaroserites]

Art and Ice - Cold

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.

Summery: Doodle is coming to terms with her feelings and we see a snippet of Bucky not seen before.

This might a 2 or 3 parter (it's gonna be more because cannot help myself). College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that trope and couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Bucky is a playboy. Fighting. Some vulgar language, and some inuendo

Word Court: 3800

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! ❤️

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, without my express permission, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

Catch up here: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 ❤️

People were leaving, they were talking excitedly about what they just witnessed as if it was entertaining. For you the high pitched ringing in your ears wouldn’t let up and you couldn’t tear your eyes from the scene in front of you. The medical team led Bucky off the ice, pressing a cloth to his nose to stem the bleeding. You didn’t register Nat pulling your arm toward the locker room because you couldn’t take your eyes off the puddle of blood solidifying to the ice.

“Hello, hello,” Nat waved her hand in front of your face, your eyes focused back in suddenly, and the ringing in your ears stopped as well. You shook your head and blinked a couple times to clear your swirling thoughts. You looked at her with wide eyes, she gave you a sympathetic smile back. “You good?” She asked and you nodded, she was studying your face before determining you were actually okay, and over the momentary shock. 

“I’m fine,” your head snapped toward Bucky’s voice as he shooed a medical examiner off. “Doodle?” He looked around, over the sea of people in the hallway. “Doodle,” he caught your eyes and smiled. He swaggered over to you instantly, a cocky grin plastered on his face. He had a couple steri-strips on the bridge of his nose and his knuckles were wrapped in gauze. 

You raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms over your chest as he sauntered over, a look of disbelief on your face. 

“What did you think?” He asked with a smile on his face. Taken back by his question you didn’t answer right away. 

“What did I think of what?” You asked bewildered. He tilted his head and stared down at you with a “are you kidding” expression. 

“The fight? What did I think of that unnecessary amount of violence and display of barbarism?” You questioned, your voice raising a couple notches by the end of the sentence. He couldn’t be serious, could he? He was. 

“It wasn’t unnecessary violence,” Barnes sounded taken back, almost offended by your statement. You raised both eyebrows now and looked up at him, your hip cocked to the side and the exasperation evident on your face. 

“Then what in pray tell would you call it?” You asked, your tone matching his. 

“Hockey? Defending myself?” He questioned back. Your eyes widened slightly as you thought about your wording. It sounded like you were blaming him for starting the fight that was clearly started by the other team. But that didn’t excuse the excessive amount of violence displayed by two grown men. 

“Defending yourself, and fucking a man up as bad as you did are two very different things,” you tapped your foot annoyed at him. He was smirking now, that confused you. 

“I love when you swear Doodle,” he mused, “such a proper, pretty mouth saying such filthy things,” his hand slipped up and cupped your face as he ran his thumb over your flaming cheek. You grimaced and stepped back from him, ripping his hand from your face instantly. 

“God you’re disgusting,” you said with a clipped tone, you turned away from him to try and calm your flaming cheeks. “I’m glad you’re okay, you oaf, but I need to go now.” You started walking away from him, his big hand gripped your upper arm and tugged you back. 

“Oh come on Doodle, I meant no offence,” he had a slight almost desperate sounding whine in his tone. “What do you mean leaving? There’s a party to celebrate the win!” He said enthusiastically. 

“Well whether you meant offence or not is neither here nor there. What you said was crude and uncalled for,” you said firmly. You pulled your arm from his grasp, “and I don’t do parties.,” you said firmly. “Also, I told you, I’m not interested in anything outside getting my project done. I’m sure you’ll find someone at the party with a pretty mouth to do whatever you want,” you spat at him. You turned fully, your face set in nasty scowl and you marched out of the arena, ignoring him as he called after you. 

You didn’t see him for a week after that. Not because you were avoiding him, maybe you were avoiding him, but the team had a few away games and classes got in the way. Most of your free time was now devoted to being hauled up in one of the art studios in front of a huge canvas you were using to do your project. As well as completing other small projects for other classes. At this point you really didn’t need to see Barnes in person anyway you had a decent amount of sketches from your few trips to the arena. 

It was the night before the last home game of regular season, Nat had informed you Barnes had been looking for you during practice, even to the point of deliberately asking her where you were lately. After tomorrow night's game it was 4 away games and then playoffs. Your project was due in 6 weeks, at the end of the semester. You also had to submit your progress sketches and show off the beginnings of the final project next week. So you were trying to have something done and you couldn’t waste another canvas because you couldn’t get the placement right, or the pose right, that was mainly because you didn’t actually know what pose you wanted. 

With an exasperated groan you threw your head back, closing your eyes and taking a few deep inhales through your nose. You were so focused on trying to recenter yourself you didn’t hear the art room door open and close followed by heavy footfalls. 

“Doodle!” You screamed when you felt his hand touch your shoulder and his voice echo through the art studio. 

“Holy shit Barnes,” you squealed, placing your hand over your pounding heart to try and soothe it, “you scared me.” 

“Ouch,” he shook his head to stop the slight ringing in his ears from your scream. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quickly. “I was looking for you, figured the art rooms would be a good place to start.” 

“Good deduction skills Barnes,” you said in an exasperated tone. “I’m surprised the FBI hasn’t come to recruit you yet,” your eyebrow raised as you looked at him. 

“You haven’t been to practise all week,” he said quietly, his tone was different from his usual cock sure one. “You haven’t been avoiding me have you?” He asked, his usual teasing lit was back now. 

“Nope, just didn’t need to see you in person,” you patted the sketch book laying up on a book stand. “Have everything I need in here,” you smiled up at him. 

He looked dejected almost, like he was upset you hadn’t been at the rink, he rubbed his neck awkwardly before stopping and straightening up. “I see. So you won’t be at the game tomorrow?” 

You shrugged, flipping the sketch book closed and gathering your supplies, “I don’t know. Don’t really need to,” you said as you walked around the studio putting things away, Bucky followed the best he could. 

“Ah come on Doodle,” he whined. “Watching is part of the fun.” 

“I guess so?” You said with a question. “I don’t find sports that interesting,” you said nonchalantly as you made it back to the door, opening it up and waiting for Bucky to get the hint. He quickly scurried out of the room and you closed and locked the door. 

“But you find all that interesting?” He asked, unconvinced. “Or do you enjoy getting high off paint fumes?” You clenched your jaw to stop the scathing remark from coming out, but he struck a nerve at this point. 

As calmly as you could you spoke, “not all of us get to be here because we can throw our fists around and shoot hard rudder at nets, Barnes. Some of us actually had to work hard for our full rides.” 

“I work hard. I didn’t get where I am because I can ‘throw my fists around,’” he snapped. You stopped and turned to look at him, arms crossing over your chest waiting for him to continue. “I had to show I was worth it, talent scouts, practising. You know, hard manual work, not just waving a brush on some canvas and batting my eyelashes to get in.” 

You were seething at this point, but refused to let yourself sink to yelling, or cussing him out. “I’m not having this conversation. The amount of work I put into my portfolio to be here isn’t going to be belittled by an overgrown toddler that skates with a stick in his hand for a living, someone who could care less about anything but a fucking hockey puck and some cold pussy afterwards.” 

“Is that what you think?” He asked, you couldn’t quite tell if he was genuinely asking or challenging you. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m done. Have a good night Barnes,” you gave up, you didn’t want to fight or yell. You also really didn’t have the mental energy to go through Barnes' personality with a fine tooth comb to find the desirable parts of him that had to be buried in there somewhere. You left the art annex with him hot on your heels calling after you. 

“Hey,” he grabbed your shoulder to make you stop. “I’m not done. You don’t get to decide what I am.” 

“Let go Barnes,” you struggled with his grip, it wasn’t hard or painful by any means, just firm. 

“No, you’re avoiding me. Why?” He questioned. 

“I'm not avoiding you Barnes, I have projects and deadlines to meet. Because contrary to popular belief you don’t occupy every female brain on the campus.” You snapped. 

“Come on Doodle, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his cocky demeanour back. “I just wanna get to know you. Be friends,” he didn’t even sound sure about that when he said it, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You and I both know what you actually want and it’s not fucking happening. I’m not interested, I’m doing this project and hopefully we’ll never have to be around each other again,” you shook your shoulder again. “And would you please let me go,” you said in a very annoyed tone. 

You hadn’t heard Loki come up behind you two, your conversation quiet although heated, Barnes grip loosened slightly as he stared at you in disbelief, “she said let her go Barnes,” Loki’s silky voice said sternly. 

“Whatever,” Barnes' hand dropped from your shoulder and he grumbled under his breath. “If you want to come watch the game tomorrow, the seat is  reserved for you,” he said as he walked away.

“Are you alright darling?” Loki asked as you turned to face him, moving your shoulder a little, Bucky’s grip wasn’t painful and you couldn’t get your heart to stop pitter pattering. 

“I’m fine,” you muttered. The rage in your eyes dying. “He’s just…” you trailed off. 

“Insufferable? Annoying? There’s many synonyms for him,” Loki mused. You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Loki frowned at that, “what is it darling?” He wrapped his arm loosely around your shoulders as you walked toward his car. 

“I don’t know. Just something I can’t really articulate properly. He’s so many things but there’s something there. Hiding, like he’s afraid to express it,” you said softly as you leaned into his side. “Maybe I’m reading into it and he’s actually just an insufferable prick, but I can’t help but think there’s more to him,” you mumbled thoughtfully, looking up at Loki, he held a thoughtful expression as he looked ahead. 

“Maybe darling, you never know,” he responded quietly. The air was thick with tension, and you couldn’t quite wrap your head around your opinions on Barnes. On the surface he was cocky, arrogant, and down right crude. But sometimes, when he was skating and you could see his eyes there was a peaceful, care free expression. When he looked at you, just below the surface there was something akin to admiration and thoughtfulness. I’m definitely reading into this you thought to yourself as you slid into the passenger seat of Loki’s car. 

~The next day~

You found yourself pulling on a sweater over your T-shirt before leaving your room and pulling on some shoes, with a hat tucked under your arm but no sketchbook this time. 

“Where are you off too? The Arctic?” Wanda mused from the kitchen. 

“The rink,” you muttered back, securing your laces. 

“Where's your sketch pad?” She asked softly, while stirring her dinner. It smelled delicious. 

“In my room, I’m going to get some videos of Barnes’ skating and maybe actually try and understand the game,” Wanda gave you a questioning look, before she smiled and looked down. “What?” 

“Nothing, it seems you’re enthralled,” her voice light, “it’s like Hela all over again,” she chuckled. Your cheeks heated up a little, but unlike Hela you were garnering a small crush on Barnes. It was annoying and uncalled for, and damn your brain for having a thing for blue eyes and brown hair. 

“Once this project is over, all will be right,” you said, not fully believing yourself at this moment and you were sure she didn’t either. 

“Be careful,” she sounded so soft and motherly, she didn’t convey any malice or harm, just genuine care for you. Those two words conveyed much more than just a simple sentiment. You knew that you had to be careful, men like Barnes were usually nothing but trouble, players, womanisers. But for some reason whenever he looked in your direction, whenever he spoke to you, your heart rate sped up and your stomach did somersaults. 

When you sat down in the chair that was reserved for you Nat joined you a moment later, the arena starting to fill nicely. 

“I didn't expect to see you here today,” she smiled at Clint as he skated by for warm ups. “Clint said Barnes was in a mood all day, and during practice.” She side eyed you “you wouldn’t have anything to do with it?” 

You groaned and leaned your head back, “we got into a small disagreement last night, after you told him where to find me.” 

“Ah, I told him to check the art rooms, he had been dogging me all week about why you weren’t here,” Nat responded. 

“I probably said somethings that were cruel because he got under my skin,” you sighed and rubbed your brow. “I don’t know why, but he brings out the worst in me. And I‘m starting to think it’s just me and I’m being unfair to him.” 

“Nah he probably deserved it, not many will put him in his place. The last one was his girlfriend in first year, they had been dating for a couple years and she kept him in line. She left him to move away with her family to Alaska,” Nat said casually. That definitely made a little more sense. Perspective changing your perception slightly. 

“Hmm,” you hummed as you watched the players skate around. Barnes and Rogers rough housing on the opposite end of the arena caught your attention. Barnes’ head turned as if he felt your eyes on him and he pushed away from Rogers and skated toward you.He came to a stop just in front of you behind the glass and smirked, you rolled your eyes in response. 

“Glad to see you back at the rink,” he said cheerfully. “Need some more inspo for the project? I thought you had everything,” you picked up a slightly sour undertone in his voice. Your mouth formed a thin line as you squinted at him, not bothering to entertain his petty jab. “Whatever Doodle, enjoy the game.” He skated backwards and flashed a full tooth smile. 

“I think he likes you,” Peggy said as she sat down, you groaned.

“He likes the thought of sleeping with me,” you said pointedly. Peggy laughed, she had a sing song like laugh, it was like bells. You slid further down in your seat to make yourself smaller. 

“He’s usually not this persistent,” Peggy noted as she watched Steve skate by with a soft blush on her cheeks. 

“He usually doesn’t have to be,” Nat chimed in. 

“Oh, then I should be honoured he can’t take no for an answer? Persistence isn’t flattering. We're not 5. It's obnoxious,” your tone was flat, and unamused. Nat and Peggy’s eyes widened. “What?” 

Nat laughed now, “I’m not used to you getting so heated, you’re not wrong though. I wouldn’t have given Clint a chance if he acted like Barnes.” 

“From the outside it looks cuter than it actually is,” Peggy said softly, “but I see where you’re coming from.” 

“Maybe if he didn’t start out with that cocky attitude, or didn’t flaunt himself all over campus as a playboy, maybe I would have given him a chance. But I’m not in the mood to be used as active release therapy and dumped,” you were sour about it, it bothered you for many reasons and the biggest most glaring reason is the stupid teeny tiny crush you may or may not have on him, and you hated it. Wanda seemed to just know but didn’t push it, and maybe Nat realised as well but chose to keep your sanity intact and not bother bringing it up.  Nat just placed her hand on your shoulder and gave you an encouraging smile, she did know, and that was confirmation. 

The game was not as intense as the last you watched, our team was easily winning. Whenever Barnes had a goal he made sure to skate past you and send you a wink, which would make your cheeks turn bright red. Groaning, you covered your face with your hands for what felt like the millionth time that night. 

Natasha dug her elbow in your side and pointed, Barnes was skating effortlessly on a breakaway as you had learned, you pulled your phone out and filmed him. He scored and the artist in you screamed, that was the pose, he was slightly crouched, the stick extended and the puck sailed. It was beautiful, and you squealed out loud, which made Nat give you a funny look. You stared back at her, mouth slightly agape as Barnes’ had also heard you delighted squeal as he skated passed, a beautiful smile on his face. “I got the pose for my project,” you said sheepishly. Nat burst out laughing. 

Your school's team unsurprisingly won the game by a landslide, and there were no fights this time, so you actually mildly, fully, enjoyed the experience. You were trailing behind Natasha and Peggy as they expertly wove in and out of the crowd to the locker room. The three of you stood waiting for the guys to finish up and come out, Clint was first, Nat walked over to him and wrapped him in a big hug, congratulating him on the win with a sweet kiss following, you couldn’t help but smile at them. A few more of the guys came out and waved and went on their way, one choosing to stop in front of you. 

“Wilson, my friends call me Sam, and you must be the artist?” He smirked, offering his hand. You smiled back and took it with a short shake. 

“That would be me, Wilson.” 

“Oh that's cold,” you couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction, he was laughing as well. “Buck will be out soon,” he said with a bright smile. 

“You don’t get to call me that,” Barnes’ voice called out, as you watched Wilson roll his eyes. 

“Steve does,” he called back. 

“Yeah, I’ve known Steve longer. And he always had a plan,” Barnes retorted back as sauntered over to you. “Hey Doodle,” he flashed an award winning smile. You gave him one back, this side of him something you never saw before. And you really liked it. 

“Come on man, one missed goal and suddenly I never have a plan,” Wilson was holding his stomach while he laughed. 

“It’s why I’m the Captain,” Steve butted in, throwing his arm over the two men’s shoulders. 

“Rogers,” you greeted. He gave you a dazzling smile, and you quickly realised why Peggy was so smitten. 

“Oh please, call me Steve or Cap,” he stuck his hand out politely, you took it and shook his hand.

What you didn’t see was Nat and Clint watching the interaction with shit eating grins on their faces, and you definitely didn’t notice the picture she snapped of you smiling up at Bucky and he sending it to Loki, captioned She totally hates him XP. To which he responded Is that what they’re calling falling in love nowadays? Nat burst out laughing and they caught your attention. You looked over at her and she shot you a bright smile and patted Clint’s shoulder. 

“So Doodle,” your attention was brought back to Barnes, and you smiled up at him. “What made you come to the rink? You said you had everything,” He played with the end of a strand of your hair as he spoke. 

“I needed a couple videos so I could watch the movement. And I finally got the pose I wanted,” you stated happily, dancing on the balls of your feet. 

“Will I get to see?” He asked, fingers still twisting the strand of hair as he smiled down at you leaning over you slightly. The pose could almost be considered intimate if you had been paying attention. 

“Once it’s done,” you smiled back and scrunched your nose at him. This side of him, you could get behind. He was effortlessly flirty, but not cocky and crude. 

“Come on Doodle, the muse should get to see, and I could provide some live modelling,” his voice dropped an octave and your cheeks reddened at the implication. 

“And you had to ruin it,” you stepped back, putting distance between you two, breaking the heavy atmosphere that had built up. Barnes hand dropped from your hair as he huffed. 

“Doodle,” you crossed your arms over your chest and looked up at him unimpressed. 

“If you want to see the progress you know where to find me,” you said, moving to leave the arena and head home for the night. 

“I guess you’re not coming to celebrate,” he called after you. You turned and walked backwards for a moment, waving.

“See you Barnes, night everyone,” you turned and walked out of the arena into the night. The breeze cool as spring slipped into place over the college town you called home.

Taglist: @vicmc624, @calwitch, @learisa, @aaqua-tofana

Feel free you send me a message if you have a request or would like more, or would like to be added to the tag list <3

Next chapter is going to be Doddle/Bucky centric, they're gonna spend some more time together. I'm terrible at slow burns, I'm trying guys.

[cinstarled]

The Role of Direct View LED Displays in Large-Scale Event Productions

Building visually compelling experiences is vital to engaging and delighting audiences in large-scale event productions. As the need for dynamic visuals and immersive environments grows, direct-view LED displays have become a game-changer in the event production area. Direct-view LED Video Walls have redefined how organizers offer content to their audience, from concerts to conferences, sports events, and exhibitions. Direct-view LED displays are the game-changer you need, whether you're peeking to build immersive brand experiences or eye-catching visuals.

Direct-view LED displays are taking promotions and advertisements to the next level, delivering unpaired flexibility with no boundaries on size or form.

What is a Direct View LED Display?

Let's explore!

A Direct-View LED display is a flat-panel technology that utilizes Light-Emitting Diodes (LEDs) to emit light and instantly produces shining, striking images. Unlike traditional LCDs that depend on a backlight, Direct View LED offer seamless image quality, free from bezels that could distract or interrupt the visuals.

Essential Benefits of Direct View LED Displays

Exceptional Visual Quality

One of the immediate causes event producers select direct-view LED displays is their incomparable image quality. These presentations deliver high brightness levels, assuring that content is clear and visible even in bright environments, such as outdoor festivals or well-lit conference halls. Direct-view LED Video Walls Offer seamless image quality, free from bezels that could distract or interrupt the visuals.

Scalability and Customization

Direct View LED Video Walls are modular and can be configured in almost any size or form. This scalability makes them perfect for large-scale events requiring custom exhibits to equip the venue. Fine Pitch LED Displays deliver the flexibility needed for innovative, large-scale visual arrangements, whether looking for a tall video wall at a show or a curved exhibit for an immersive exhibition stall.

Durability and Longevity

Direct-view LED displays are highly stable and trustworthy, particularly in demanding conditions designed for long-term usage. Fine-pitch LED Displays support uniform performance throughout the event, unlike projection systems or LCDs, which may show lagging or technical issues. These features make them perfect for indoor and outdoor applications where conditions may only sometimes be optimal.

Energy Efficiency

In addition to their dynamic visual performance, Direct View LED Video Walls are more energy-efficient than conventional display technologies. Direct View LED displays offer a better eco-friendly resolution that lowers operating costs without compromising quality for large-scale events where energy consumption is a crisis.

Fine Pitch LED Displays for Immersive Experiences

Fine Pitch LED Displays have taken the event production enterprise to the next level due to their capability to provide crystal-clear, high-resolution visuals. These exhibits have a shorter pixel pitch, stretching between individual LED pixels, creating more acute and intricate pictures.

Fine Pitch LED Video Walls ensure that even close-up audiences can enjoy high-definition content without pixilation for events requiring high-quality visuals, such as corporate conferences or live streaming events. This technology is especially effective for displaying detailed graphics, text, and videos, making it ideal for events where clarity and detail are paramount.

Let's discuss some actual use case scenarios for Direct View LED Displays in Events

Shows and Celebrations

Large-scale shows and music celebrations usually depend on direct-view LED Video Walls to enrich the audience experience. These walls permit event organizers to cast live footage, vibrant visuals, and interactive content, forming a compelling setting for attendees.

Corporate Events and Conferences

Fine-pitch LED Displays deliver an extravagant and contemporary solution for providing information at corporate occasions and gatherings. From keynote displays to product takeoffs, these shows guarantee the audience remains engaged and informed.

Exhibitions and Trade Shows

Exhibitors utilize Direct View LED Video Walls to build visually impactful booths that attract visitors. These shows' seamless setup and excellent image quality support exhibitors to stand out and make an everlasting impression.

Sports Events

Direct View LED displays are often used in sports auditoria and arenas to deliver real-time contest updates, repeats, and live scores. Their durability and luster make them ideal for outdoor usage, guaranteeing clear visibility even in the daytime.

In a Nutshell

No one can underestimate the function of direct-view LED displays in large-scale event shows. Whether providing excellent visual quality, delivering scalability, or guaranteeing reliability, these displays have revolutionized event showcases. As technology advances, the usage of Fine-Pitch LED Displays and Direct-View LED Video Walls will only rise, providing event organizers with even more innovative ways to engage their audiences.

If you're looking to promote your next event with spectacular visual exhibits, Direct View LED technology is the way to go.

Elevate your visual experience with Cinstar's LED video wall panels—the perfect balance of performance and cost-effectiveness!

About the Author: Founded in 2012, Cinstar Electronics is a Chinese LED display manufacturer dedicated to designing and providing high-quality LED products and competitive solutions for various applications. Our team are industry veterans with at least 5 years of experience and have managed thousands of LED projects from rental events to commercial installations. Our products have been exported to over 40 countries and used in high-profile installations and events worldwide.

Cinstar makes no effort to insist on the business principle of “Honesty, Integrity and Responsibility” and is committed to being a trusted LED display manufacturer and integrated service provider. Cinstar has highly comprehensive product lines that cover a wide range of applications like commercial advertisement, the entertainment industry, corporate events, award ceremonies, conferences & meeting and monitor rooms etc. All our LED products are CE, UL, ETL, and FCC certified and compatible with European and American markets.

[muenled]

Exploring Fine Pitch indoor LED Displays

Introduction In the realm of visual technology, one innovation stands out for its stunning clarity and seamless integration: the fine pitch LED display. Whether you’ve encountered them in control rooms, conference centers, or retail spaces, these high-resolution screens are transforming the way we experience digital content. Let’s take a closer look at fine pitch LED displays and discover what…

[pixelvisionuae]

Looking for the best Rental LED Screen in Dubai? Pixel Vision UAE offers high-quality, customizable LED screens for events, concerts, weddings, and more! 🖥️✨ ✅ Crystal-clear displays ✅ Easy setup and support ✅ Affordable rental options Visit Pixelvisionuae.com to book now! #RentalLEDScreenDubai #PixelVisionUAE #EventTech

[healthcaremmr]

Fine Pixel Pitch LED Displays Market was valued at USD 2.21 Bn in 2023 and is expected to reach USD 6.26 Bn by 2030, at a CAGR of 16.04% during a forecast period.

[bearterritory]

Golden Bears Top Wolf Pack, 8-3

BERKELEY, Calif. – After the announcement that the University would break ground on a renovated softball facility at the conclusion of this season, the California softball team (26-8) earned an 8-3 victory over Nevada (28-10) at Levine-Fricke Field in Berkeley, California.   The Golden Bears totaled 11 hits, eight walks, four stolen bases and three doubles. Acacia Anders went 3-of-3 on the day with three RBIs and two doubles.   After taking a 1-0 lead after the first inning, Cal put six runs on the board in the bottom of the second to take a commanding lead. With the bases loaded, Lagi Quiroga knocked in a base hit to score a runner. In the next at-bat, Elon Butler reached on a fielder's choice, allowing another runner to cross home plate. Acacia Anders found the gap in center field for a two-RBI single to extend the lead. Tianna Bell followed with an RBI double to left field. Mia Phillips added the final run of the frame with a base hit to give the Bears a 7-1 advantage.   In the third inning, the Wolf Pack finally added a run on the board due to an RBI double from Matlyn Leetch. The Bears responded in the bottom of the frame after Anders reached first after being hit by a pitch with the bases loaded, giving the Bears an 8-1 lead.   Nevada added two runs in the sixth inning after a two-run home run by Aaliyah Jenkins but couldn't overcome its deficit as the Bears sealed the victory.   Annabel Teperson earned her third win of the season after pitching five innings with two strikeouts.

Softball Facility Renovations

The renovation is expected to begin soon after Cal's final home game of the 2025 season on April 27 and is estimated to take 16-18 months to complete. The Golden Bears are expected to resume playing at the Cal Softball Field to begin the 2027 season.  

Among the highlights of the upgraded facility:

A 30,500 square foot, two-story precast concrete structure that will house the bullpen, concourse and press box behind home plate

1,511 permanent seats on the new concourse that extends out and surrounds the field

8,500 square feet of enclosed spaces, including locker rooms, a press box, lounges and a training room

An LED scoreboard display (approximately 35x20 feet) installed in the outfield that will face spectator seating to the southwest

New fine-grained aggregate material in the infield

Synthetic turf in the outfield (replacing existing grass)

"This move is monumental for our program," Cal head coach Chelsea Spencer said. "Our new facility will allow our student-athletes to continue to have a world-class experience while competing at the highest level. Cal is the No. 1 public institution in the world, and having what we believe will be the premier facility on the West Coast, will make us a top destination for prospective student-athletes. We are grateful and very excited to break ground."

Cal's softball program is one of the most successful in the nation, having made 12 appearances in the Women's College World Series and securing 34 NCAA Tournament berths. The Bears won the NCAA championship in 2002.