#red the struggler he's doing his best

[okiroash]

Obsessed with post-mt. silver red... the champion you hailed as a legend, a concept of what strength is, right now- is having trouble finding where he put his wallet because he didn't need to use money for three years (the cashier watches as red rummages through his bag, the sounds of various items clanking can be heard through the room...) anyway,, some fun headcanons for him that I first wanted to tell along with illustrations but,, I don't have the energy to do that rn,, -> He knows how to mimic a pokemon's cry to such accuracy,, esp those of wild strong pokemon that lives in mountain silver, this is so that- with just himself he can terrify the weaker pokemon and make them scamper away.. it's important that his team stay at top condition and not make them waste necessary energy in case something bad would happen -> Though this doesn't mean he uses his voice more, having no one to talk to (or even the need to-) for an extended period of time, makes it easier to get into a coughing fit if he were to talk too much, leading to him talking slower, softer, and always in short chopped sentences after coming down (but still have that polite way of talking, judging from the dialogue in FRLG with the pokedoll girl compared to ethan's.... who even uses "pardon me" these days? red apparently) -> He learned how to run on all four.. when there's literally just you and your animal friends in some mountain you're bound to be a weirder guy, sorry man (and he actually moves faster this way.. but red's aware that this is something he could only do in the wild) -> Red moves like a ghost, it's good when you don't want to alarm the wild pokemon around you (and now it's people to avoid getting recognized), but this makes it hard for him to announce his presence which always end up surprising people.. -> Whenever he doesn't know how to react to a joke or what it means, he will tilt his head and stare at them with the biggest autism eyes ever.... -> Post-mt silver red gets put into a lot of socially awkward situations, it can't be helped 💔 -> Because he spent so long in a dangerous environment, red is very vigilant and cautious, though.. sometimes overly that it's not healthy, it took a while for him to start relaxing a bit more after going back to "normalcy" -> Red tried to keep track of time by writing in his diary.. one day he flipped the paper and found that he had run out of them.. he started writing on the cave's wall instead -> talking about diary, it's one of his few emotional outputs, on really bad days it's full of scribbles, messy writing, repeating words and rarely, tear stains -> being far from a talkative person, he can't just vent out his emotions through talking.. and because he has such an unexpressive face, people often think there's nothing wrong with him, simply a hero you can always depend on. red developed a slight anger issue from not being able to properly express his emotions, sometimes he would bent and smash things to let off some steam (dw.. nothing valuable, probably trashes or rocks..)

-> He finds a lot of comfort in his pokemon, rubbing circles on pikachu's fur, sleeping on top of snorlax, feeling charizard's warmth... (yeah you get what I mean,,) He also likes getting carried by them, it's a feeling of comfort that something is guiding him, just like the old days with his mom

[myarmsaretoolong]

In the Hands of the Enemy

Prompt #2: In the Hands of the Enemy - “Pick Who Dies” | Kidnapping

Word Count: 2601

Warnings: Major Character Death | Blood | Gun Violence

Synopsis: Tony receives the call no surrogate father wants to hear, Peter’s missing. His captor delivers the be-all and end-all of ultimatums. It’s you, or the Spider.

Read Under the Cut |  Read on AO3

Tony looked up from his work when his phone buzzed; he picked it up in his free hand to check the caller ID. ‘Forehead of Security.’ He chuckled and tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could return to tweaking Peter’s new web-shooters. It was the kids sixteenth birthday in a few days, and Tony wanted to surprise him with a little upgrade.

“Hey, Hap. What can I do for you?”

“I don’t suppose Peter’s with you, is he?”

Tony shook his head lightly, “Don’t mess with me, Harold. It’s Friday. You pick him up on Fridays.”

“I’m not messing.”

The screwdriver dropped from Tony’s hand, and it hit the metal workbench with a loud clang. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall. They should’ve been here by now. Tony’s voice was low when he spoke. “What are you saying, exactly?”

“The kid just never turned up. He texts when he’s going to be late, you know he’s always texting. I’ve heard nothing since he left school.”

Tony shot to his feet and started pacing around the lab, working out some of his nervous energy. “That doesn’t necessarily mean… Does it?”

There was a pause; it spoke more than words could. “I’d agree with you if it were anyone other than Peter.”

“Shit.” Tony raked a hand through his hair and bolted from the lab. “Can you search around? Check his usual patrol routes. See if there’s anything to give us a clue where he is.”

“Of course. And Tony, don’t worry, we’ll find him.” With that, Happy hung up.

Don’t worry, Tony thought, racing towards Rhodey’s room - the only other one currently occupied, damn Rogue Avengers - it’s a little late for that. His mind ran through a hundred possibilities, the kid bleeding out down some dark alleyway, tied up and thrown in the Hudson…

“Tony? What is it?” Rhodey rose from his desk, concerned eyes seeking Tony’s face for answers. Tony didn’t even remember opening the door.

“The kid,” he choked out, “Peter, he didn’t show-”

Rhodey crossed the room in three swift strides. One hand clasped on Tony’s shoulder, the other held up Tony’s chin and forced him to look Rhodey in the eye. “Let’s go find him then,” he said calmly. “What’s his last known location?” Carefully, Rhodey steered Tony out of the doorway and towards the armoury where they kept their suits.

“Uh,” Tony dragged his hand over his face and took a moment to think. “He sent me a selfie from the top of the Unisphere in Flushing. Must have been close to an hour ago.”

“We’ll start there.”

“Wait,” Tony stopped, one hand gripping Rhodey’s sleeve and halting him halfway across the lounge. “I can’t ask you to- I mean, you haven’t flown since-” Since I let you fall.

“I know, but the kid needs us.” Rhodey could read Tony like a book; he’d always been able to. It was probably the reason they became friends. He saw through the cocky, playboy exterior to find the guilt and dread inside. “This isn’t like that, okay. Listen to me, Tones, we’re going to save him.”

Tony nodded, steeling his nerve as best he could. “You’re right-”

“Boss, I-I’m afraid my protocols are getting overridden-”

“Friday?” Tony looked to the ceiling as if it made a difference. “Fri, what’s happening? Talk to me.”

Silence.

Rhodey and Tony shared a glance. “This isn’t a coincidence,” Rhodey muttered.

“Correct.”

Tony flinched from the emotionless, almost clinical voice reverberating over Friday’s speakers. Rhodey remained as stoic as ever, Tony, however, knew it was an act. 

“Let me cut to the chase. I have your little Spider, I’d love to say he’s here and unharmed… but he’s a struggler. Choices had to be made. Consequences…” Whoever it was stretched out the final word, the kid would’ve made some sort of reference to Severus Snape. It sent a shiver down Tony’s spine.

Rhodey took charge, lifting his chin and straightening his back. “Where is he.”

“Safe, for now. So long as you all behave. Follow my demands.”

Tony stepped forward, about to speak, but Rhodey silenced him with the wave of an arm. “You can’t go making demands without proof of life. Let us speak to him.”

“Oh, I’m afraid speaking is out of the question.” There was a momentary pause before one of the holo-screens on the wall flickered into life. Tony clutched the back of the sofa so hard his knuckles turned white.

“You let him go,” he snarled. On the screen, Peter grappled against the restraints holding him to a metal chair. Muted sounds came from the brown, cloth bag masking his face, his usually blue Midtown Tech hoodie stain a horrific, dark red colour. Metal chains coiled around his wrists, securing them to the arms of the chair, the same around his ankles.

“I don’t think so, not yet…” A figure strolled into view, wearing a long black jacket with the sleeves folded halfway up their arms. They hadn’t made even the slightest attempt to hide their face. “Maybe we can have a little fun, first.” They ripped the hood from Peter’s head, the kid looked around wildly, still fighting his bonds.

“Peter, kid, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Peter found the camera, eyebrows knitted together. “Mister Stark?” For the first time, Tony got a good view of Peter’s face. His eyes were wide and fearful, a gag stuffed in his mouth. Blood drained from a deep gash above his left eye, a dark, purple bruise on his right cheekbone stuck out against his unusually pale skin.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s me. I’m going to come and find you, just hold on. Hold on for me.”

The figure moved to block Tony’s view of Peter, a twisted half-smile on their face. “As you can see, alive. Now I make my demands.” Tony wanted nothing more than to dive through the screen and hug Peter in his arms. He clenched his jaw, fingers digging into the fabric of the sofa. “It’s simple. You, or the Spider. One will live, the other will die. The decision lies entirely in your hands.”

“What do you mean?” Tony spat, fear gnawing away at him from the inside out. “Me, I pick me. I die, leave the kid alone.” The muffled screams from Peter doubled, as did the sound of metal hitting metal.

The captor continued as if Tony hadn’t spoken. “You have one hour, plenty of time to make it here. I trust you’ve already tracked my location.” It was true, Friday’s protocol was to trace any and every communication made with the facility. “If you’re here, you’ve chosen for the Spider to live. If not, he dies.”

“How can I trust you? How do I know you won’t kill us both regardless?”

“I’ll give you my name. Listen up, now, little Spider. You’ll want to remember this.” Peter stopped struggling. “Avery Remington, do with that what you will. One hour, alone, no suit. Else it’s goodbye Spider.”

Tony swallowed. “You’re on.”

The feed turned to static, Friday turned it off and filled the room with a deafening silence.

“Tony?”

“Don’t,” Tony couldn’t face looking at Rhodey, he kept his back turned. “Don’t try and talk me out of this. That’s my kid, and I’d do anything-”

“I know.” Rhodey’s voice cracked. “Let me come with you. I’ll keep my distance. Peter’s going to need someone to bring him home.”

“Look after him for me. He has a habit of patrolling instead of doing his homework, so make sure he doesn’t let it pile up. Don’t let him blame himself. And-” Tony sucked in a sharp breath. “God, Pep… Tell her I never stopped loving her, I’m sorry for everything.” Tony didn’t wait for a reply, he ran to the armoury with Rhodey on his heels and jumped into the first suit he saw. Friday already had the flight plan set.

Tony’s mind wandered as his thrusters burned at full power, bringing back memories of Peter. Watching those YouTube videos, he hadn’t realised Peter was only a kid, that only came when he stepped foot in May’s apartment - Ross’ ultimatum hadn’t left time for a full background check.

When you can do the things I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen… They happen because of you.

That hug after they got back from Germany, Tony wished that hadn’t been the only time, that he hadn’t pushed Peter away, hadn’t thrown up boundaries like Oprah handed out cars. He thought he’d have all the time in the world to mentor the kid, help him grow into the hero Tony saw him to be. It turned out he barely had months.

He hoped the kid wouldn’t blame him for that when he was gone.

“Tones, we should land here. No suit, remember?”

Tony said nothing, but followed the instruction, landing heavily at the edge of a forest. Friday’s flight plan led them to a small wooden shack, barely able to hold itself up anymore. They were barely fifteen minutes from the Avengers Facility, fifteen minutes. All of this happening right under Tony’s nose, if only he’d been able to put a stop to it sooner…

“Stop it,” Rhodey stepped out of his suit. “You couldn’t have known. No one could.”

Tony, too, stepped out of his suit, though still kept his back turned to Rhodey. They’d known each other near on thirty years, and they should’ve had another thirty more. How do you say goodbye to that, how do you sum up those thirty years, the ones that will never be, into a single sentence?

Behind him, Rhodey sniffed. “Just come back to me, man. Do whatever you gotta do to come home with the kid.”

Tony broke. He turned and wrapped his arms around Rhodey, he returned the embrace with his strong arms, holding each other close as tears fell freely.

“Promise me.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Tony whispered into Rhodey’s shoulder.

“I love you.”

“You need to let me go.”

“I can’t.”

Tony paused. Swallowed. “I love you, too.” He pulled away and walked towards the shack without looking back, head held high. He’d greet death with grace and dignity.

The door to the shack practically disintegrated in Tony’s hand, coating his palm in dust and rust from the handle. Inside was dark, only a single corner illuminated, both Peter and Avery visible. Peter saw Tony first, his escape attempts doubled in effort, though they were weak. Avery’s beating was clearly weighing on his body.

“I’m here,” Tony forced his voice to remain flat. “Now let him go.”

Slowly, Avery turned to face Tony. “All in good time. Come, join us.”

Tony did as he was told, remembering Avery’s threat about behaving themselves. “Just get it done.”

Avery reached out a hand, pulling a handgun from within the folds of the jacket, turning it over in their hands. “Some interesting information came to light.” Avery’s eyes flicked up to meet Tony’s. “You didn’t come alone.”

A jolt of fear ran down Tony’s spine, there was no point denying it now. “Rhodey’s a mile off, that way.” He pointed the direction he’d walked in from. “To take Peter home, nothing else.”

“That’s against the rule.” Avery levelled the gun at Peter, the kid froze. His Bambi eyes were wider than Tony had ever seen. Tony took half a step towards him, to block the shot with his body, when Avery spoke. Raising their voice for the first time. “Move, and I shoot.” 

Tony held his hands up, returned to his spot. “Rhodey’s a mile off,” he repeated, trying to emphasise how little importance it was. “I came here alone.”

Avery stayed silent, seeming weighing up the options. Eventually, they stepped closer to Peter and pulled the gag from his mouth. “It seems, Little Spider, that we have a problem. Be honest, now, did he break the rules.” Avery stepped back, gun still aimed at Peter’s chest. “Remember, your life hangs in the balance.”

“Pete, look at me.” Peter pried his eyes away from Avery and met Tony’s. “That’s it, you’re doing so good. You know what you have to say, don’t you?” Peter’s eyes flooded with tears, Tony’s too, and he nodded. “You have to say I did everything right. Then you can go free.”

“Mister Stark,” Peter whispered. “I’m sorry I let this happen, I’m sorry I got you caught up in my mess.”

“No, you don’t need to say that. Everything’s okay.”

“Hurry, Little Spider. Yes or no, did he break the rules?”

Peter dropped his chin to his chest.

“Did he break the rules?”

Slowly, Peter lifted his head to Avery; jaw clenched, eyes lit with determination. “Yes.”

“No!” Tony roared, he dived forwards as soon as the word left Peter’s mouth. A single shot rang out, the sound filling every inch of Tony’s body. He’d never be able to forget that feeling. The explosion of pain in his chest, how his knees felt so weak it was a miracle he still stood upright, the knowledge that this was it, that everything was over…

The sight of blood steadily flowing from Peter’s chest and pooling in his lap. His scream of pain, every ragged breath he sucked in through gritted teeth. The colour drained from Peter’s face, Tony knelt beside his chair and cupped a hand to his cheek. 

“Hold on, for me. Please, Peter, hold on.”

Somewhere, Avery shuffled around. There was a loud click, and all Peter’s restrains released simultaneously. He crumpled into Tony’s arms, and Tony cradled him, gently brushing a curl of hair from his bloodied face, one hand clamped down on the seeping wound over his heart. That hand stained red the second he placed it there.

“I’m so-rry,” Peter whispered, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, bright red against his stark white skin.

“Shh,” Tony hummed, not caring as tears slipped down his cheeks. “I’ve got you. I’m going to get you out of here. Stay with me, can you do that?”

Peter’s body gave an involuntary spasm, Tony held him tighter. “My fa-ault, don’t blame y-yourself.”

Despite everything, Tony laughed. A wet chuckle. “You know me too well, kid.”

Peter smiled, his eyes slipping closed. “I’ll be okay.”

“Me too.” It was a lie, but Tony would’ve said anything at that moment if it gave the kid even an ounce of ease. Peter fell limp in his arms. “Pete,” Tony tapped his cheek gently. “Kid, come on. Don’t mess with me.” He shook Peter’s body.

Nothing.

“No,” Tony whispered, a fresh wave of tears tracking down his face as he folded protectively over Peter’s body hand hugging him close. “No, please. No...” 

The ghost of Peter’s grin still rested on his face. Even in death, Peter smiled.

“I thought I’d feel something.” Avery stood over the pair on the floor, looking down with an utterly emotionless face. “I thought I’d feel… completed. The job is done, after all.”

Tony laid Peter down as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb his sleep, and got to his feet. Avery observed each of his movements, head tipped to the side.

“What does it feel like, do you think? Death?” Avery nodded at Tony. “You came close. How could it feel to lose everything? Feel it all just… slipping away.”

“I’ll show you how it feels,” Tony growled, hands balled into fists and eyes burning with hatred, rage, pain. With grief. “You can count on that.” He didn’t need his suit to make Avery suffer.

[smore-fables]

Reconneting

Now that its been posted, I can share my submission for The Ties That Bind Zine that was hosted by the lovely @destiny-islanders​ and @novallion 

These two went through so much work for this, and I appreciate it very much, you two are truly part of the binding ties of the Kingdom Hearts fandom.

I want to give a great big thanks to @anixara who proof read it this, helped me write it, and listened to me moan and groan. She has been my support system through this, and she is honestly so amazing.

Please, enjoy! 

The permanent sunset of Twilight Town filled the streets with a soft glow, especially the two visitors Roxas and Sora. The two were around the town square, just looking around. 

“Always looks so nice and calm here,” Sora said as he took in the sights. “Yeah.” Roxas looked around, but the place filled him with a small ache in his chest, he had a dual set of memories inside him, ones he had made from Organization Thirteen, and the ones that had been implanted within him from Diz. He could remember coming around this area for both recons, and to hang out with his fake friends.

“Hey Roxas, are you okay?” Sora was a bit worried by the sad look that was painted on the blonde’s face.

“It's just, Sora, half of my memories are fake, but they still feel real, and it just, It hurts.” Roxas looked at the ground when suddenly he was hugged by the other male. “I know Roxas, and I brought you here hoping to help you make real memories with them.”

The two broke away after a moment, Sora giving Roxas a small smile, patting his nobody on the shoulder. “Trust me, Roxas, they’ll love you.” Roxas stared at Sora, and the brunette just looked so sure of himself, that Roxas couldn’t help but believe him.

“Hey, Sora!” Called out the voice of Hayner, him, Pence, and Olette running towards Sora and Roxas. “Hey, guys!” Sora waved at them, smiling wide, looking at Roxas who was trying to quickly mentally prepare himself for this encounter.

“When did you get here?” Asked Hayner, “Not that long ago.” “Who’s your friend?” Asked Olette, looking at Roxas.

Sora put his arm around Roxas, grinning wide. “This is my brother Roxas.” “Uh, hi.” Roxas gave an awkward wave with a small smile.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Olette, this is Hayner and Pence.” “Hey, have we met before, you look familiar,” Pence said as he rubbed his chin as he looked over Roxas, he couldn’t quite place where he knew him from though.   

Roxas blushed a bit, wondering if Pence maybe was remembering his Orginazation days.  

“Well we were about to go play some struggle, do you guys want to

join us?” Asked Olette looking from Sora to Roxas.

“I think that sounds like fun! What do you say, Roxas?”

“I don’t know.” Roxas wasn’t sure about all this, it was all moving so fast, and he wasn’t

prepared enough for it.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Sora gave Roxas the biggest smile he could muster, causing Roxas

to roll his eyes and let himself be tugged along with the group. "Hey Roxas you ever struggle before?" Hayner asked, looking back at the new guy.

Roxas had to resist mentioning the fact he had won the last championship he partcipated in. Which he remembered was all set up by Diz, and Roxas just wanted to let out a giant yell, because all of this was just becoming too much for him. “Roxas is really good!” Sora grinned, “Best struggler I know!” Roxas let out a snort at that, because Roxas was thinking of the other kind of struggle he had been through. “Well Roxas, how about you and me then?” Roxas wanted to deny the request, but at the same time he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “You’re on.” And thus the group of teens headed for the Sandlot.

They approached the guy who was in charge of the supplies for struggle, but no one quite remembered his name, so they just all called him Mr. Struggle. “Hello Hayner, oh and hello to your new friends.” Mr. Struggle looked at Sora and Roxas, “You boys struggle?” Roxas once more was faced with not mentioning how much he sturggled it was a struggle just not mentioning it.

“I dabbled.” Roxas shrugged a bit, he remembered the simulation of this guy, and the two were rather the same, he was begining to wonder how much time and effort Diz put into researching this town and its residents.

“Well then lets get you and Hayner suited up for a match, and see what you’ve got.” Mr. Sturggle helped the boys get their weapons of choice, the gear they would need, and the balls for the point system. Hayner and Roxas made their way into the middle of the area, facing one another. “You prepared to lose?” Hayner asked as he pointed his bat at Roxas. “I’m prepared, but not for losing.” Roxas smirked a bit, he could feel the familiar sense of friendly rivalry taking over, and he was pretty sure his knowledge of the data Hayner would apply to this one as well.

Hayner ran towards Roxas, swinging his bat. Roxas quickly jumped out of the way, before blocking another attack from Hayner. After a few more attacks, Roxas realized that the real Hayner evolved his fighting, which if thought out logically would make sense. Roxas ran towards Hayner, did a quick reversal, and manged to hit the other male and take some of the points for his own. Now if Roxas could mange to not get hit he could win.

Hayner stretched out his arm looking at Roxas, “I’ll show you.” He said to him, causing Roxas to laugh a bit. “I’ve been waiting for you to.” Hayner charged at Roxas, only for the latter to block him, and swing at him, causing more orbs to litter the ground. Hayner quickly ran to go gather as many back as he could. “No more playing around.” “You always say that to me, but you always seem to play around.” “But we only just met.” Hayner was a bit confused by what Roxas said, they hadn’t met before had they? Then again Roxas did seem familiar. Roxas on the other hand was thrown off his rhythm by that, he couldn’t stop that from slipping out, and before he knew it, Hayner knocked him over with a powerful strike. Blue orbs scattered everywhere. Roxas didn’t stay down long, and was quickly going after Hayner. The two kept at each other until they were both laying on the ground, exhausted, and laughing.

“Not bad, you might almost be as good as me.” “Almost?” Roxas laughed at that, letting out a small sigh, this actually felt normal.

“Hey you guys, not too tired for ice cream are you?” Asked Olette, as her, Pence, and Sora approached the worn out blondes.

“Never too tired.” Hayner hopped to his feet and offered Roxas a hand up, which was gladly accepted by the nobody.

The group made their way to the small ice cream parlor, all going straight for the small freezer that held the assortment of popsicles.

Olette reached in and pulled out five ice creams, handing each one to a different person before grabbing her own. The kids approached the counter, and each chipped in something for their cold treats.

“To the clock tower!” Said Hayner, holding his ice cream up high like a knight’s sword.

The five teens made their way up to the top of the tower and sat down on the ledge in the order of: Pence, Hayner, Olette, Roxas, and Sora. Once placed, the teens quickly got to work on eating the salty sweet ice cream bars. Chatter found its way amongst the group, as they talked about the fight between Roxas and Hayner.

After awhile Pence suddenly snapped his fingers, “Oh I finally remember why I know you! You came around here a few times with that guy with the red hair, you both would wear black coats.” “Oh you mean my friend Axe- Lea. Yeah we visited a few times.”

“You were amazing with the grandstanding! No wonder you’re so good at struggle.” Olette commented.

Roxas chuckled softly, and looked off to the horizon now, and smiled softly as he remember the various times of being on this tower, some with Axel and Xion, others with Hayner, Pence, and Olette.

He remembered one of the times with Axel and Xion, and found himself asking, “You guys ever wonder why the sunsets red?”

“I never thought about it.” Olette said, contemplating the question. “There could be many factors for that, maybe that should be added to the list of wonders for Twilight Town.” Pence joked. “Please, its just because red is part of the color set.” Hayner snorted, rolling his eyes, but the boy still had a smile on his face.

“The reason is,” Roxas chuckled a bit, and contiuned on, “because red travels the furthest.”

Sora bursted out in laughter first, then the others followed suit, “I always thought it was because red was just the coolest color.” “You would think that.” Roxas snorted at the brunettee, both males just laughing at an inside jokes of Sora’s old jumpsuit.

 The group stayed on the tower for awhile, extanging stories, Sora and Roxas telling slightly altered ones.  Roxas was content now, he made real memories today.

[angstalottle]

Count Down

Part 1:

During his time in space Lance has fallen in some pretty weird stuff.

This ranged from a giant yellow slime monster to a floating bubble filled with what could only be described as fluff.

He had accepted that as a paladin you land in gross and unusual stuff now and again.

It was no biggie.

So when Lance and Keith were walking around the castle and he slipped falling into a glowy pond of pink water he wasn’t really worried. Instead he just let Keith help him out and went back to his room to dry off.

A couple hours later Hunk was laying out the food for dinner when he realised that Lance was missing. “Anyone seen Lance today?” He asked only to get a response of head shakes and shrugs.

“I saw him earlier.” Keith replied “but he fell into some alien water and went to get changed, probably just sulking or something.”

Hunk frowned “I don’t know missing meals isn’t like him.”

“I’ll go get him” Shiro smiled patting Hunk on the shoulder as he passed him “I’m sure he just fell asleep or something.”

“Thanks man.”

“Lance?” When Shiro knocked on the blue paladins door only to get no response a seed of worry was planted in his gut.

Sure Lance liked his alone time, but he always made it to dinner and always always answered his door.

Shiro was about to knock again when he heard a groan coming from the other side of the door.

“Lance are you ok?” He asked opening the door.

Lance was lying on a heap on the ground wrapped up in his blankets and sweating.

His brow was creased in pain and his eyes scrunched up like the light was burning him.

Shiro hesitated for less then a second before he scooped the blue paladin up in his arms and ran for the infirmary calling the others on his way.

As he ran Shiro couldn’t help but notice how light Lance was.

“Had he been this light during the castle attack?” He muttered to himself, now having images of Lance starving himself or suffering through some kind of sickness and no one noticed.

By time Shiro made it to the infirmary the others were already there.

“What’s wrong?” Pidge asked only to gasp when she saw Lance.

“What happened to him?” Hunk asked as Shiro gently placed Lance down on a empty bed so Coran could begin the diagnostics.

“I don’t know... he was like this when I found him.”

“Is he sick?” Keith asked.

“Yeah if you.” Lance chuckled as he strugglers to sit up.

“Ah Lance my boy your awake!” Coran smiled not looking up from the computer.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Allura asked gently, handing him a water pouch which Lance took and drank thirstily.

“I’m not sure... one minuet I was fine the next...” He shuddered “It was like my body was on fire, it hurt so bad.”

“Well the scanners can’t pick anything up.”

“You sure?” Shiro asked looking over Coran’s shoulder trying in vain to read the Altean.

“Certain, Lance is a perfectly healthy 15 year old boy.”

Everyone stopped.

“Erm Coran you sure you didn’t read that wrong?” Lance asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Of course not!”

“Coran Lance is 17.” Hunk explained.

“Oh... the scanners have never been wrong before... I’ll just fire it another looksie.” He said quickly returning his attention to the screen.

Shiro looked Lance over while the others were focused on the older Altean.

His cheeks seemed fuller, his eyes rounder and hair a little lighter.

Oh man he hoped he was wrong about this.

“Lance... do me a favour and stand up.”

Lance looked at Shiro confused but did as he was asked.

“Fuck.” Shiro cursed.

“Language.” Pidge smirked, however her face fell into an expression of shock when she saw Lance hitting Hunk on the arm till he also looked.

“Guys?” Lance asked shifting uncomfortably where he stood next to Keith.

He looked to the red paladin for answered only the stumble back in surprise.

He was eye level with Keith.

Him and Keith were the same height.

“I shrunk!” Lance yelled dropping the blankets showing that his normal clothes were hanging off his now skinnier form.

“Not...exactly.” Allura said finally “it would appear... according to the scanners your body has returned to the state it was in when you were 15.”

“See! I told you I didn’t make a mistake!” Coran grinned proudly only to be met with a glare from Allura. “Right right not important right now. According to the scanners your ageing backwards, around a year per hour but as you get younger the rate may accelerate.”

“So what? Lance is going to be a kid again?” Keith asked.

“I’m afraid it’s much more serious then that... if we do not find a way to stop the process then Lance may deage out of existence.” Allura looked at him with an expression of pity.

“W-we can fix this right?” Lance asked trying to keep his voice steady and failing miserably.

“Without knowing what has caused this we have no way of undoing the effects.” Coran explained.

“The pond! Lance fell in a pond before it must of been that!” Keith said quickly.

“Hmmm with that I may be able to figure out a cure.” Coran pondered twisting a finger in his moustache.

“Right team, we leave emidietly. Coran you will come with us to figure out what’s going on, Keith you’ll lead since you know where this happened. I’ll stay in the castle with Lance.” Shiro ordered and everyone nodded heading for the door.

“Hang on it’s my life on the line why can’t I come too?” Lance pouted.

Shiro sighed waving the others off “because Lance it’s too dangerous, now your 15 but it’s already dark out and who knows how long it would take them? By morning you could be a baby... you have to stay here where if it looks like we’re running out of time I can put you in a pod and hope for the best.”

Lance nodded slowly but still didn’t look happy “alright..”

Shiro looked over his skinny frame again not liking the looks of the bones visible beneath the skin. Even if this turned out to be temporary Shiro was going to make sure Lance was well looked after.

“Come On lets get some Dinner before it gets cold.”

He smiled as he lead the way to the kitchen with Lance following close behind, the burning pain already returning as he turned 14.

———————————

@bibisarts hehehe I’m gonna destroy you with cuteness!

[junker-town]

Liverpool are crushingly inevitable, and so are West Ham

Photo by Clive Brunskill/Getty Images

Also, is Jose Mourinho really ALL bad?

Hello, and welcome back to another edition of Tactically Naive, SB Nation’s weekly soccer column. These Monday evening fixtures are really playing havoc with our schedule.

On the overwhelming pointlessness of West Ham

Thanks to some unusually vigorous weather patterns, the angry squalls of a dying planet, West Ham found themselves in an uncomfortable spot. Having to play one of the best teams in the country is an unfortunate necessity, whenever it happens. Having to play them both in a week is verging on the sadistic.

To keep things fresh and exciting, West Ham went at the games in different ways. Against City they set out their stall to do nothing much of anything, seeming to reject the very idea of participation. They were defensive to the point of parody, they were limp, and at times they were barely present at all. They were defeatist, and they were defeated.

Against Liverpool, by contrast, they were pretty sparky. There was an energy and an application about them. And they even scored. Twice. For 14 minutes, they led the undefeated runaway leaders. There was just enough time for Arsenal fans to get their hopes up — maybe the Invincibles are safe! — before former Arsenal goalkeeper Łukasz Fabiański Arsenalled the ball between his own legs for the equaliser.

Shortly afterwards, Liverpool took the lead, and kept it. West Ham played pretty well! And still, they were defeated.

There is nothing surprising about the results, of course. First and second in the Premier League should generally be beating the relegation strugglers, and West Ham are having one of those seasons again. But taking both games together, Tactically Naive — and we may, of course, be overthinking things — found the whole process mildly depressing. And not just because Felipe Anderson is a gorgeous footballer who deserves better.

Let’s say that there are two ways in which the statement “anybody can beat anybody” can be true. The first is banal and not particularly interesting: if Liverpool don’t turn up, their opponents might nick it. And the second is far more engaging: both teams have the capacity to overcome the other even if the other plays well.

Obviously the second can only be true to a certain extent: if both teams play well, the better team will tend to win more often than not. That’s part of the point; that’s why, every year, we spend all this time watching these teams sort themselves into ranking order. And perhaps one could argue that all against-the-odds victories hinge to a certain extent on the better team not turning up.

Yet watching West Ham play badly and lose, and then play quite well and lose, Tactically Naive didn’t feel for any second as though the outcomes of either game was anything much to do with West Ham.

Good to see people criticising a team selection for West Ham away to Liverpool as if there was ever a way to materially affect the result

— Tom Victor (@tomvictor) February 24, 2020

To watch West Ham play Liverpool, then — to watch any not-currently-in-crisis superclub play any normal team — is, in fact, to watch Liverpool play against Liverpool, while West Ham hang around nearby hoping to pick up any points that Liverpool might deny Liverpool. If Liverpool get their game going, they win. Even if it takes them a while.

And of course Liverpool are very good at getting their game going, for they have a brilliant squad overseen by a wonderful manager, all brought together by intelligent, forward-thinking club operatives. None of that is true of West Ham.

Liverpool’s giant lead notwithstanding, this has actually been a pretty good season for aristocratic nose-tweaking. Spurs, United, Arsenal, and Chelsea have all looked delightfully un-super at various points. Even City have deigned to hit themselves in the face from time to time. But these are errors, and vast amounts of effort and money are being directed towards correcting them.

For games like this are the end-point of the superclub logic that has captured the very top of the game. It’s not just about winning. It’s about rendering two-sided games one-sided; about extending the gap between teams to such an extent that one side cannot possibly reach across it. And then offering up the Champions League as compensation.

A brief and heavily-qualified defence of José Mourinho

Tottenham lost again. Except, when a club hires Mourinho as manager, they don’t lose any more. He becomes the club; the club is swallowed by him.

So: Mourinho lost again. A 2-1 defeat at Chelsea, which must have stung, to go with last week’s limp 0-1 loss at home to Red Bull Leipzig. And circumstance is conspiring to make him look silly: for a manager of his naturally conservative instincts to end up with no fit strikers is … well, it’s almost sarcastic.

Obviously, all Spurs’ bad results — as with Mourinho’s Manchester United missteps before them — can be incorporated into the ongoing carnival of Mourinho Mockery that we all know and love. Look at the fool, look at his low block. Bet he thinks pressing is something you do to a shirt. The man’s a dinosaur. Call yourself Special? Shave your head all you want, mate, you’ll never be Pep.

And so on.

Maybe we’re going soft in our old age, but this seems a little harsh. He’s had the job a shade over three months, and in that time he’s already ticked off his two main goals for the year: stop whatever the hell was going wrong under Mauricio Pochettino, and get back into the European conversation. Even without injuries, he’d be on the way to a job done; with them, it looks pretty decent going. Going into the Chelsea game, Mourinho’s Spurs had taken 26 points from his 14 games in charge. Lampard’s Chelsea, over the same stretch, had only picked up 18.

In any case, the managerial ranking tier below Special isn’t Clatteringly Useless. It’s something like Good, or Fine. Or maybe Pretty Useful in Certain Circumstances. That’s what Tottenham needed, and that’s what they’ve apparently got. So we can save the Mourinho is a Dinosaur stuff for next season, when he’s got a full-strength squad that’s he had all summer, but he’s still playing football in the style of a migraine.

And perhaps there’s a story hidden in Spurs’ January signings. Stephen Bergwijn, aged 22. Giovani Lo Celso, aged 23, on a permanent deal arranged before Mourinho’s arrival. The total and complete absence of Nemanja Matić. We might not be able to see beyond Mourinho’s glowering presence, but Tottenham’s squad already looks like it’s being prepared for the next manager along.

[askdurianrider]

What do you think of the contrast between a good vlogger like Neistat, and a shit youtuber like you + the difference in the amount of money they can raise for disaster efforts? He just raised 250,000 US dollars for disaster relief in 48 hours. You might want to think about your slander/drama methods to getting views again. You might want to think about actually making good videos.

1. Casey makes over a million $ a month EASILY. His guru and motivation is Tom Sachs but he never credits him anymore and pretend he came up with his current style himself. Tom Sachs did NOT Casey ‘copycat’ Neistat.

2. Youtube promotes the fuck out of him, because he never swears and has that ‘hipster’ angle locked down. I can see why they do that to attract more advertiser budgets. I get it. Pewdiepie got thrown off the recommend list after he started swearing. Casey got put on. 

3. 250k is great but fucking poor compared to all the money he makes from Nike, McDonalds, Samsung kickbacks. Why does he need millions and millions of dollars? What the fuck does he do with all that extreme amount of money? Why didnt he match his donors efforts? I would if I was that loaded.

4. He has over 7 mill subs. He only got 250k though? Just shows that his audience doesnt really give a fuck about the every day struggler. They want to see fake fancy shit that talks a lot but doesnt really say anything. 

5. Casey was the first youtuber I ever watched back in 2006 when he had a channel called ‘neistat brothers’ (he deleted it because trolls slammed him too hard on it). He pranked this news reporter pretending to get electricuted one time and another time he pretended to steal bikes in NYC to show how society doesnt really give a fuck. Then he got corporate. His video that threw him to fame was the ‘Bike Lanes’ video. (one of the best vids ever on youtube) Something he would NEVER make these days because his corporate friends would distance themselves from him. 

6. What actual message does he have these days other than ‘run red lights on a high powered skate board, buy heaps and heaps of brand new shit, use as many resources as possible just to make a basic vlog and do so much running on so much stimulants that your knees blow out and you are fucked before you even hit 40. 

7. I agree with you though, his videos are created SO well it is just a pity they are just SO consumer focused now and have fuck all real essence to them. People are just more inspired to buy new and overpriced shit and live the fake american dream after they watch his content. He used to do videos against corporate america and now he is literally the new face of it by heading the influencer marketing super train that is hitting everyones SM platforms more and more every day.

[tomk4e]

Premier League Week 3 Review

Week three of the Premier League had two major upsets. Crystal Palace beat Manchester United for the first time in the Premier League at Old Trafford thanks to more penalty drama from the Red Devils and a late goal by Palace’s Patrick van Aanholt. Meanwhile, Newcastle’s newest signing Joelinton scored the only goal in a 1-0 away win over Tottenham. And in the headliner of the weekend, Liverpool dispatched Arsenal 3-1 to remain perfect on the season.      

Dear Manchester United: PLEASE find a penalty taker

Last week it was Paul Pogba. This week it is Marcus Rashford. Now Manchester United might officially have a penalty problem. In both instances, Pogba and Rashford cost their team points. Last week United were lucky to draw with Wolves. This week United were punished by Crystal Palace.

So who now? Anthony Martial? Daniel James? Why not. But whoever it is, make sure they can bury the penalty. Because, United must deal with the same scrutiny that they had last week against Wolves. Except they will be under a larger microscope. The Red Devils should have beaten Crystal Palace. They had 72% possession and 22 total shots. However they were wasteful with their shots. Only three of them were on target and troubled Palace goalkeeper Vincente Guaita.

United goalkeeper David De Gea should share some of the blame to. He faced the same amount of shots on target as Guaita, but conceded two. The winning goal by van Aanholt should have been saved by De Gea, but the Spaniard allowed the shot to squeeze underneath him in the 93rd minute. With only four points in the first three games manager Ole Gunnar Solskjaer is on the hotseat once again as the same problems that plagued United last year are showing up to start this one.    

Flashy signings still cannot fix Arsenal’s top-six woes

Arsenal spent nearly $170 million in the summer transfer window. And after all that money spent the Gunners still got battered by Liverpool. Kieran Tierney still has not made an appearance for Arsenal, while David Luiz, Dani Ceballos and Nicolas Pepe all had poor showings on Saturday.

Their first half performance should have inspired Arsenal. In their past three visits to Anfield, they have conceded 12 goals and only scored two. So only being down one goal was new territory for Arsenal. And Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang and Pepe were threatening Liverpool’s defense on the counter-attack. The only negatives were that Aubameyang and Pepe were wasteful with their chances. Pepe failed to convert a one-on-one against Liverpool goalkeeper Adrian, and Aubameyang narrowly missed an open net after chipping the ball over Adrian from 20-yards.

But all of Arsenal’s hard work was undone in the second half. Luiz was at fault for both of Liverpool’s second half goals. He pulled Mohamed Salah back in the box, conceding a penalty the 47th minute that the Egyptian would dispatch. Then in the 58th minute it was Salah again. This time the Liverpool forward suckered Luiz in near the touch-line and easily knocked the ball past the Arsenal defender and sprinted off toward his second of the game.

Arsenal’s capitulation in the second half was staggering. All of their summer signings went missing. Luiz was awful, Dani Ceballos was bullied by Liverpool’s midfield and Pepe was snuffed out by Liverpool’s Virgil van Dijk and Andrew Robertson. Arsenal’s second half mental breakdown has been standard for them against other top-six sides. Arsenal can spend all of the money in the world, but if they cannot fix their mentality against the other top teams in the league, then they will not be challenging for the Champions League anytime soon.    

Watford is already in trouble

The Hornets have looked atrocious to start the season. An opening day 3-0 home defeat to last year relegation-strugglers Brighton was not the best way to open the season. That was followed by a tough 1-0 loss away to Everton. This week Watford shipped another three goals at home. This time to West Ham.

However, take nothing away from West Ham. Mark Noble converted a penalty in the 3rd minute to open scoring. After Andre Gray equalized for Watford in the 17th minute West Ham took control. The Hammers’ record-signing Sebastien Haller scored his first two goals for the club in the 64th and 73rd minute. The second was an acrobatic overhead kick to seal the victory. The French striker looks like the answer to West Ham’s scoring woes and could be one of the signings of the season.

But back to Watford. Manager Javi Gracia’s men do not look good to start the season. They have played terribly at home and have only scored one goal in their opening three matches. Also striker and captain Troy Deeney recently underwent surgery on a knee ligament and will be out for at least a couple months. So goalscoring could be even more difficult for Watford in their upcoming matches.

There are already a few managers in the league who are tipped to be fired, and Gracia is one of them. Especially since Watford has retained most of the squad last season that managed 50 points and finished 11th. No points from three games, two of which were at home, is not the way to start the season. Watford’s next Premier League match is at Newcastle United, and after that it is (yikes) home to Arsenal and away to Manchester City. Good luck Gracia and good luck Watford. Because it will be a long season is they are not able to get three points against Newcastle.        

Goal of the week: Harvey Barnes

Leicester City travelled to a hostile Bramall Lane to face Sheffield United. With the scored tied 1-1 in the 70th minute, 21-year-old Harvey Barnes broke the sound barrier when he connected with a looping Caglar Söyüncü header on the half-volley from just inside the box. Mayhem ensues among Leicester fans in the travelling fan section of the stadium. Banger.

[two-littlesouls]

Avarice's 'hug' and Xanos' magic secure the beast to the ground. Even if he had planned to move at any point during this attack, he wasn't going to do it now.

That was when everyone moved in to attack, the HELLBENT DETERMINATION in their hearts, be it fledgling or fully-grown. Samga did his best to protect Rhys, but the pull of his infant ferocity was too strong. He charged in as well.

Every attack connected, HELLBENT's body cracking, puncturing and crumbling with every strike. The ruined creature screamed in abject frustration as it tried to break free and counter.

As he failed once more to release himself, he opened his mouth once more to try the laser that was successful back in Snowdin.

As it turned out, his attempt was met with Penny's fist.

The impact and following shockwave made a gigantic cracking noise, which bled into the beast screaming, which bled into a deafening white noise as his body erupted into a flash of white light, filling the area and consuming everything, and everyone, present.

??? Joined the struggle.

What became of the strugglers? Find out under the cut.

As the blinding light of HELLBENT's body exploding began to fade and the struggler's eyes were allowed to adjust, they would quickly realize that they were no longer in Waterfall.

The only sign of life in this new, desolate landscape other than the strugglers themselves was a red flower, slumped over and silent.

But not for long.

THKK! KRRRRRRRRCKKKKKK!!

[GgguuuuuuuAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH...

A few moments and uncomfortably unfitting sounds later, the area illuminated by the light of a curious glowing orb in the air. They had seen this briefly before; it was HELLBENT's soul.

The ground underneath them crunched and shifted underneath them. Like large, sharp chunks of sand.

Only this desert was made entirely of dull, lifeless, orange soul shards.

The flower contorted and shifted into an unnaturally rigid, upright stance.

And spoke in a soft, yet sharp tone.

"Greetings."

"...This is my welcome? Such a rag-tag menagerie. Still, you managed to set me free without the beast annihilating you so I suppose you deserve to be congratulated."

"I imagine you must have questions. I have questions of my own but as I am the intruder here, I shall let you have the honors."

For such a small thing, this scarlet flower exuded a spirit-crushing aura of DETERMINATION and DANGER.

The strugglers proceeded to speak with the flower, desperately trying to gain as much information that they could.

They quickly realized that it was not here to help anyone other than itself, but you will have to ask them, or it, to repeat that information.

"All right. I think that's more than enough pleasantries. Now that I have escaped that empty timeline, I have work to do. And so do you."

"The boy is of little consequence to me now. He is merely a vehicle. However, the detonation of the beast's body appears to have cast fragments of his id across The Underground. You will need to retrieve them before they disperse or, even if you were to get him back, you would be lucky to get even a shadow of the person he was. You would be lucky to get a person at all, for that matter. A non-responsive, useless vegetable would be the far more likely outcome."

The flower's expression did not change. But you were certain that under that hollow smile was really a smirk.

"Besides, I need you out of the way so that I may enact the next step of my plan in peace. In all honesty, the most preferable outcome for me would be if the fragments of his id killed you."

"I live in hope."

"Oh, one more thing. Besmirch, was it? Disavow? Hysteria? I believe you collectively refer to yourselves as 'Besmirched'? Hm. How fittingly arrogant of your progenitor. Anyway, you've probably already realized what I have done, but I shall elucidate anyway. I studied your composition through the sample graciously donated through the boy's hand. And while I did not have time to completely decode it, I have been able to devise a program that will prevent you from drawing upon your source. At least while you remain in this timeline. Additional ink was surplus to requirements, you have more than enough with you to adequately die with."

The SOUL in the center of the area began to glow once more, slowly engulfing the area and returning the strugglers to the white void the explosion had originally sent them to.

[lost-boy-grey0]

I. My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the workings of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby. II. What else should he be set for, with his staff? What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare All travellers who might find him posted there, And ask the road? I guessed what skull-like laugh Would break, what crutch ’gin write my epitaph For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare. III. If at his counsel I should turn aside Into that ominous tract which, all agree, Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly I did turn as he pointed, neither pride Nor hope rekindling at the end descried, So much as gladness that some end might be. IV. For, what with my whole world-wide wandering, What with my search drawn out through years, my hope Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope With that obstreperous joy success would bring, I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring My heart made, finding failure in its scope. V. As when a sick man very near to death Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end The tears and takes the farewell of each friend, And hears one bit the other go, draw breath Freelier outside, (‘since all is o’er,’ he saith And the blow fallen no grieving can amend;’) VI. When some discuss if near the other graves be room enough for this, and when a day Suits best for carrying the corpse away, With care about the banners, scarves and staves And still the man hears all, and only craves He may not shame such tender love and stay. VII. Thus, I had so long suffered in this quest, Heard failure prophesied so oft, been writ So many times among ‘The Band’ to wit, The knights who to the Dark Tower’s search addressed Their steps - that just to fail as they, seemed best, And all the doubt was now - should I be fit? VIII. So, quiet as despair I turned from him, That hateful cripple, out of his highway Into the path he pointed. All the day Had been a dreary one at best, and dim Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim Red leer to see the plain catch its estray. IX. For mark! No sooner was I fairly found Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two, Than, pausing to throw backwards a last view O’er the safe road, ‘twas gone; grey plain all round; Nothing but plain to the horizon’s bound. I might go on, naught else remained to do. X. So on I went. I think I never saw Such starved ignoble nature; nothing throve: For flowers - as well expect a cedar grove! But cockle, spurge, according to their law Might propagate their kind with none to awe, You’d think; a burr had been a treasure trove. XI. No! penury, inertness and grimace, In some strange sort, were the land’s portion. ‘See Or shut your eyes,’ said Nature peevishly, It nothing skills: I cannot help my case: ‘Tis the Last Judgement’s fire must cure this place Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free.’ XII. If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk Above its mates, the head was chopped, the bents Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents In the dock’s harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk All hope of greenness? Tis a brute must walk Pashing their life out, with a brute’s intents. XIII. As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood. One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare, Stood stupefied, however he came there: Thrust out past service from the devil’s stud! XIV. Alive? he might be dead for aught I knew, With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain. And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane; Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe; I never saw a brute I hated so; He must be wicked to deserve such pain. XV. I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart, As a man calls for wine before he fights, I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights, Ere fitly I could hope to play my part. Think first, fight afterwards, the soldier’s art: One taste of the old time sets all to rights. XVI. Not it! I fancied Cuthbert’s reddening face Beneath its garniture of curly gold, Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold An arm to mine to fix me to the place, The way he used. Alas, one night’s disgrace! Out went my heart’s new fire and left it cold. XVII. Giles then, the soul of honour - there he stands Frank as ten years ago when knighted first, What honest man should dare (he said) he durst. Good - but the scene shifts - faugh! what hangman hands Pin to his breast a parchment? His own bands Read it. Poor traitor, spit upon and curst! XVIII. Better this present than a past like that: Back therefore to my darkening path again! No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain. Will the night send a howlet or a bat? I asked: when something on the dismal flat Came to arrest my thoughts and change their train. XIX. A sudden little river crossed my path As unexpected as a serpent comes. No sluggish tide congenial to the glooms; This, as it frothed by, might have been a bath For the fiend’s glowing hoof - to see the wrath Of its black eddy bespate with flakes and spumes. XX. So petty yet so spiteful! All along, Low scrubby alders kneeled down over it; Drenched willows flung them headlong in a fit Of mute despair, a suicidal throng: The river which had done them all the wrong, Whate’er that was, rolled by, deterred no whit. XXI. Which, while I forded - good saints, how I feared To set my foot upon a dead man’s cheek, Each step, of feel the spear I thrust to seek For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard! - It may have been a water-rat I speared, But, ugh! it sounded like a baby’s shriek. XXII. Glad was I when I reached the other bank. Now for a better country. Vain presage! Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage, Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank soil to a plash? Toads in a poisoned tank Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage - XXIII. The fight must so have seemed in that fell cirque, What penned them there, with all the plain to choose? No footprint leading to that horrid mews, None out of it. Mad brewage set to work Their brains, no doubt, like galley-slaves the Turk Pits for his pastime, Christians against Jews. XXIV. And more than that - a furlong on - why, there! What bad use was that engine for, that wheel, Or brake, not wheel - that harrow fit to reel Men’s bodies out like silk? With all the air Of Tophet’s tool, on earth left unaware Or brought to sharpen its rusty teeth of steel. XXV. Then came a bit of stubbed ground, once a wood, Next a marsh it would seem, and now mere earth Desperate and done with; (so a fool finds mirth, Makes a thing and then mars it, till his mood Changes and off he goes!) within a rood - Bog, clay and rubble, sand, and stark black dearth. XXVI. Now blotches rankling, coloured gay and grim, Now patches where some leanness of the soil’s Broke into moss, or substances like boils; Then came some palsied oak, a cleft in him Like a distorted mouth that splits its rim Gaping at death, and dies while it recoils. XXVII. And just as far as ever from the end! Naught in the distance but the evening, naught To point my footstep further! At the thought, A great black bird, Apollyon’s bosom friend, Sailed past, not best his wide wing dragon-penned That brushed my cap - perchance the guide I sought. XXVIII. For, looking up, aware I somehow grew, ‘Spite of the dusk, the plain had given place All round to mountains - with such name to grace Mere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in view. How thus they had surprised me - solve it, you! How to get from them was no clearer case. XXIX. Yet half I seemed to recognise some trick Of mischief happened to me, God knows when - In a bad dream perhaps. Here ended, then Progress this way. When, in the very nick Of giving up, one time more, came a click As when a trap shuts - you’re inside the den. XXX. Burningly it came on me all at once, This was the place! those two hills on the right, Crouched like two bulls locked horn in horn in fight; While to the left a tall scalped mountain ... Dunce, Dotard, a-dozing at the very nonce, After a life spent training for the sight! XXXI. What in the midst lay but the Tower itself? The round squat turret, blind as the fool’s heart, Built of brown stone, without a counterpart In the whole world. The tempest’s mocking elf Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf He strikes on, only when the timbers start. XXXII. Not see? because of night perhaps? - why day Came back again for that! before it left The dying sunset kindled through a cleft: The hills, like giants at a hunting, lay, Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay, - ‘Now stab and end the creature - to the heft!’ XXXIII. Not hear? When noise was everywhere! it tolled Increasing like a bell. Names in my ears Of all the lost adventurers, my peers - How such a one was strong, and such was bold, And such was fortunate, yet each of old Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years. XXXIV. There they stood, ranged along the hillsides, met To view the last of me, a living frame For one more picture! In a sheet of flame I saw them and I knew them all. And yet Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set, And blew. ‘Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.’

[thebrandedswordsman]

Still A Family

Happy Birthday @ex-mercenary​

Made by both myself and @bladeofthehawk

Perched high, the white orb cast its light across the land. A light she had eagerly awaited, pallor glow announcing the arrival of a very special boy. Every night, Casca would pin her eyes to the growing moon until it had filled out into a perfectly round circle… but not quite round enough yet to be called a full moon. Waiting for him took away from the fear nightfall brought along, when her protector wielded that frightening sword of his to cleave apart creatures aiming to hurt them. She felt better when he had set up a fire, and she sat snuggled safe and sound against the only place that comforted her.

The boy did not show up that night. When she whined and pointed towards the sky, Casca’s heart felt heavy. Where was he? Wasn’t it time for him to come to her? “Full moon’s only tomorrow, Casca. Go to sleep.” She didn’t understand, but the gentle raking of his fingers made her sleepy. Snuggling her weary head under his chin, Casca greeted slumber with a heavy, wistful sigh.

It wasn't until the next day the child had arrived, it was the afternoon, and it was getting dark, but it just wasn't quite there yet, light out and the moon slightly visible in the sky. The child's body not completely opaque due to coming earlier than usual! The boy just couldn't wait to see his parents again, to hug, feel their warmth, listen to them speak, and of course play with them! It wasn't very often that he came early, due to it taking some energy from the child, leaving him slightly transparent. It did not last long though, being on the earth for a couple minutes and feeling the soft grass between his toes and the wind in his hair.

The Struggler and Branded woman were up now, beginning to travel again, their setting changing slightly as they traveled, the weather becoming much cooler and nicer. It was quite nice in the struggler's opinion... He could see clearly that Casca was getting tired of traveling, wanting to wait for the child to return, excited to see the raven haired boy. Usually the swordsman would usually push on and ignore her noises of protest, but for once, he gave in, and decided to set up somewhere they could take a break and rest for the night.

As Guts began setting things up, Casca let out a hum and sat on the ground playing with a pile of leaves that rested on the ground, throwing them up in the air, watching them fall to the ground gently. Standing back up again she began to pick them leaves up, using the bottom her dress as a way to carry them all. The struggler glanced every so often, making sure she didn't wander off or hurt herself, upon seeing how Casca collected the leaves, a small smile grew on his lips.

A small shuffling in the bushes near by caused the woman to turn her head, a sound of curiosity coming from her lips, of course, Guts had turned to look at what caused her to let out that sound, seeing and hearing the shuffling  in the bush, the swordsman slowly rose up from where he sat. Casca shuffled forwards towards the sound, letting out a hum, dark eyes staring at the bush.

"Casca-"

Before The Struggle could even continue, a familiar face poked out of the bushes, sticks, and small twigs poking out of his hair.

It was him.-

Immediately all the leaves the woman had were dropped in seconds and she threw herself at the bush to pull her child out, hugging the boy tightly, she spun him around, smiling and letting out a sweet laugh. The Struggler relaxed letting out a huff, his eye watching a too, his rough expression was quick to turn soft though, a small smile on his face now from seeing the smile on the Casca's face, seeming so happy from seeing him.

It didn’t take too long for The Struggler to set things up, the two seemed to have quite a lot of energy from what he could see, the two chasing after each other and Casca letting out quite happy and giddy noises in the process, a big happy smile playing on her lips. It was quite nice and relaxing, seeing her run around and smile, but seeing her with that child, how he clung to him and Casca as if they were his parents left a fuzzy warm feeling in his chest. His lone eye continued two, the swordsman moving and settling himself to lay against a tree nearby, he wanted to be close in case something were to happen.

Guts’ eye shifted to look up at the sky, it was early, and it wasn’t too late, any apostles, demons, etc. Shouldn’t come out, so taking a nap wouldn’t be too bad of an idea right? He hadn’t been able to sleep for a while so he needed this, even if it was just a little while… Shifting to get comfortable, the swordsman’s eye grabbed his sword and rested it beside himself so he can grab it just in case, he knew he would wake if something were to happen, Casca sure would yell or the child would quickly alert him in some way, he wasn’t exactly a heavy sleeper.. His eye felt heavy, and he continued to watch the two, Casca picking up the leaves, then suddenly dropping them all on the child, burying him in it. Though almost immediately, his head poked out and large eyes peered at his mother with curiosity, Guts would feel his eye closing on him, but he would force it open, only managing to keep it open for a couple seconds, but what he saw caused a smile to tug at the corner of his lips.

Casca had turned to look at him watch her and the child, blinking a couple times she smile and let out a giggled before looking back at her bright eyed child, who played and threw the leaves around to watch them dance and fall to the ground gently.

He was asleep now, out like a light bulb when his eye remained closed for more than a few seconds, he now snoring softly.

Every second she got to spend with the boy and her guardian was a treasure made of gold and all things radiant. How she loved to play with him! Sometimes she would bundle freshly fallen leaves and sprinkle them like rain on top of his dark head, giggling oh so happily when the boy peeked out again and blinked his big eyes at her. They’d chase through field and forest at daylight (and of course never straying away from his watchful eye, Casca had learned as much), played hide and seek or bullied the fairy, and picked up tokens they found on the ground. Robe pockets spilled with all sorts of things Casca had stuffed in there, when her hands became way too full to carry the goods back to camp. A proud heap of leaves, flowers and dozens of acorns in all shapes and colour for today’s loot. The girl shot a bright grin over her shoulder, messy hair dirty and wind-tangled from all the running. It was a smile only for Guts to see - but the poor, sleeping man had long excused himself to the land of dreams.

Last night wore him out, even if she didn’t fully understand the concept of fatigue. She didn’t understand what risk he put himself in daily to guarantee his love’s safety. Or her life. Subconsciously, however, Casca knew not to disturb the man because he snored so peacefully and wished she had given the boy a warning sign. Hands full with the acorns, he padded over to the sleeping swordsman and her curious gaze followed.

Much to Guts’ future dismay, Casca had let herself be swayed by the moon boy’s boldness far too easily. Whatever his purpose was for building a nest of treasures right on top of Guts’ torso didn’t matter, she aided his task anyway and carried all the scavenged items over to the sleeping man before she fell to her knees next to him. Leaf after leaf was neatly placed by four hands, yellow, red, orange, green - a vest made of colour, decorated by acorns. The flowers pinned to his fringe made him look a lot less scary now, mother and son agreed on it with nothing more than a silent nod given to each other. After all, neither aimed to wake him. Only a very loud, disrupted snore jerked Casca’s busy fingers away momentarily. A deep frown cut into her forehead whilst she poked her tongue out at the grunting swordsman. How rude to disturb their handiwork!

He woke with a grunt, his lone eye feeling heavy as it tried to close so he could continue to rest and sleep. Only being able to move a small amount before his neck ached due to sleeping in such a odd position. A hand rose up to rub the back of his neck, but upon doing so, he felt something roll off of him, his eye quickly noticing it was acorns and leaves , causing him to raise a brow, not only that, leaves and flowers fell off the top of his head upon barley tilting his head.... He could think of only one person that would do such a thing..

Guts' dark eye shifted over to look at his side where he felt a small body pressed against him, the child laid curled up close to him, hugging him as he slept, behind the child laid Casca, resting softly, from what it looks like, she draped his other around herself, her arm extended to hug both the child and him. Seeing this left another burst of the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. He looked over himself careful not to move so the items piled on him wouldn't fall and so he wouldn't wake the two, examining himself, The Stuggler could see clearly that the two worked hard.. Without having realized it, the moon child had quick woke up at the slightest movement that came from the swordsman, though he didn't move an inch, his big eyes watching the swordsman.

It didn't take long before the two made direct eye contact, thats when the child sat up carefully so he wouldn't wake the woman, only to suddenly begin pulling off all the leaves off of the man in big handfuls the best he could and making it into a big pile, the swordsman helping using a single hand. Once they were finished, that was when the child wiggled his way out between them and Guts carefully moved his other arm off Casca and he sat up letting out a yawn, his eye glancing up at the sky, from what it looks, they may have been out for a couple hours..

The child sat down on the ground, looking at the scenery, at this time, Guts noticed his mess of hair, twigs and leaves sticking out, he decided to take this chance and remove them, not taking noticed that Casca had began waking up, sitting up and running her eyes, a yawn escaping her lips.

As soon as the warm bodies stirred, Casca longed for the comfort of her child and the man who went through nightly hell to keep them safe. Sleep was no longer an option, but the branded woman felt rested once slumber’s heaviness fell from her eyes. A peculiar weight filled her pocket, and she picked at the seam to take a peek. Nestled snugly slept a fairy, blanketed by a leaf she had forgotten about and whistling his gentle snores. The chestnut looked so peaceful, Casca decided to keep him in her dress.

“You really need a haircut...”, Guts’ absent murmuring caught her attention. Legs were crossed beneath their bodies and the boy’s round eyes held her gaze when the Struggler began to pluck twigs and leaves from his unkempt mane. In comparasion to his titaneous posture, the boy looked so small - yet seeing them sit together so naturally made her eyes water momentarily. Casca couldn’t pin down the feeling, didn’t understand the meaning of emotions, it wasn’t a bad one and it didn’t hurt to feel it, but... somehow, the physical resemblance between them touched a deep hollowness within her. A soft whine broke the silence. If her own mouth made it or the boy did because Guts tugged a little too roughly didn’t matter, she crawled over to join either way.

As it turned out, Guts’ attempts to tame the knots were not nearly as successful as when he bound Casca’s hair into a ponytail. Of course, with only one functional hand, he was bound to struggle, but did he really have to be this rough? She decided to take rein, coming to their aid by sitting close to her guardian, nudging against his side and growling unhappily. Raking her fingers through the long, black tresses until they felt silky enough, she separated them into three thick parts. A hum alerted Guts to pay attention before one strand was folded over the other, again and again until a long braid held the boy’s hair in place. When Casca faced Guts, a crooked grin spoke to him where words weren’t needed.

‘He doesn't need a haircut if you do it right.’

As The Branded Woman untangled his hair, the child grabbed a stick near himself, and began playing in the dirt, using the stick to break apart the soil until it was thin enough and began to draw in it. Big dark eyes concentrating on the drawing he made in the soft soil, he began off by drawing The Struggler himself, drawing a triangle shape for a body and a square as a head, then began adding details the best he could, once he did that he went on with the woman, drawing her next to guts, then finally himself.

He drew them all holding hands with a smile on their face, above the little drawing, he drew the moon and a bunch of little dots, by the time he had finished drawing, Casca had already finished doing his hair, his long black locks put into a thick braid that reached down to his lower back. He turned himself and patted both Casca and Guts' legs in order to get their attention, once he did, he pointed at the drawing he had done.

Upon seeing the drawing, The Struggler felt his heart swell in his chest, his thick lips cracking into a small smile once again, Casca on the other hand let out a gasp, clapped her hands, a smile appearing on her face as she emitted a giggle, with that, her arms outstretched and she hugged the child tightly as the man let out a chuckle.

Once they had sated the hungry growl of their bellies and the aching weight eased from weary legs, all four of them had buckled up. A tiresome journey lied ahead, although she did not understand why they never stayed at one place for longer than a mere couple of hours. Six restless feet ventured over hill and under tree, and more often than not Casca took it upon herself to carry the child on her back or held him in her arms. Protective like a mother wolf over her pup, she never lost sight of him.

The next town lied miles ahead when the first quake shook the sky. Within minutes, a threatening wall of charcoal clouds bestowed a battle ground for the thunder gods to challenge each other, and not even the woods sheltered from the pouring rain they brought along.  ‘Aaauu!’, an unhappy call cursed the sodden hair and robe sticking to her skin. Shoes were drenched like sponges after stepping into the dozens of puddles, making her body shiver because she felt soaked through her bones.

The child didn’t hold up any better. In the storm, his braid had loosened and his tiny body shook like a maple tree. Protective arms flung around him in an attempt to keep him warm, a helpless cry halting Guts in his tracks.

"Pllllhhh!” No matter how often her tongue pushed against it, Casca’s wet hair kept sticking to her face and lips. It annoyed her greatly, but whenever she uttered a miserable complaint, Guts would pull her in a little closer and wrap his raven’s wing around her shivering frame. She absorbed the pleasant heat he radiated when she pressed against his side. A warm, soaked-to-the bone human shelter to his woman and their child, all three of them hurled together and hoping for the rain to subside soon.

Whenever the sky growled, she bared her teeth and growled back. Somehow, the electricity in the air rose the hairs on her skin, making her squirm uncomfortably and grazing the child with a distressed glance. Another, gentle tug to her waist reminded Casca that as long as they stood under the protection of Guts’ cloak, no harm would ever touch them. He was going to make sure of it.

They marched on, slowly and before nightfall, with a destination in mind that drove the Black Swordsman forwards against all odds.

They continued walking and walking and walking, The Strugglers expression flat, it felt like they were walking for hours as Casca let out whines and growls about being wet when her clothes clung to her skin and her hair got on her face, the child other hand didn’t let out a peep or a cry, though he could tell he was cold, his lone dark eye shifted down and what he had noticed surprised him.

He had been holding onto his thumb the whole time as they walked, upon looking down, the child has turned his head to look at him, both making eye contact, they stared for a moment until a smile managed to find its way up on his lips..

It almost....

It almost felt as if they were a family...

[eastbridge-sb]

EFL Championship Match Previews – 29th February Saturday

Cardiff v Brentford

Two promotion hopefuls that have hit a bad patch of form are Cardiff City and Brentford, and both square off this weekend in Wales as they look to get back on track. Cardiff are winless in three, whilst it is four without success for Brentford. Both suffered midweek defeats, and for Brentford it was a surprising setback to strugglers Luton Town.

Whilst it was a shock loss for Brentford, deep down it possibly wasn’t as much of a shock as it is made out to be. The reason being is that Thomas Frank is suffering a bit of a selection headache at this moment in time due to several injury problems within his squad. In-form defender Julian Jeanvier was the latest name added to that list when sitting out the Luton game, whilst Christian Nørgaard was forced off in the second half. That means the Bees could be missing ten players this weekend, and six would be serious starting eleven contenders.

Cardiff have injury problems of their own, with star man Lee Tomlin still out with injury and will be for many more weeks. Whilst Cardiff are winless in their last two games since he has been injured, another worry is they haven’t scored a goal either. Tomlin is without a doubt their offensive spark and offers something completely different to the rest of the squad. Without him, the team misses out collectively, and that gives a big advantage to Brentford, who at least still have red-hot Ollie Watkins, Saïd Benrahma and Bryan Mbeumo fit and raring to go.

However, they were all available at Luton, a Luton team that has the worst defensive record in the league, but still came off second best. Frank had to change formation because of the injury problems, and perhaps that took something away from the team going forward as it moved them away from the 4-3-3 which has served them so well. A 3-4-3 may not seem that much different, but the dynamics do mean it is a sizeable difference to make an impact.

Brentford have been inconsistent away this season by failing win to 11 of their 18 away from Griffin Park. Cardiff have only lost twice at home, but they have a poor record against the top sides in this league. It is tough to pick a winner here, but it should be tight considering both have their injury problems, played in midweek and will afford big respect to the opposition. Under 2.5 Goals appears the most logical and sensible play.

Asian Total Goals Betting Recommendation: Under 2.50 at 1.860

Millwall v Bristol City

Millwall and Bristol City are two teams that still could make the play-offs at the end of the season, and another familiarity regarding these two is that going into this weekend they are in poor form. Bristol City are particularly having some problems on a count of losing four of their last five, including three in succession. Millwall have won once in eight.

Millwall did experience something of a bounce when Gary Rowett was appointed as manager. He won’t have been the first or last manager to experience this when taking over a new club. The problem is that once they bounce does end it is hard to regain it, and they’re finding that out now. The goals have dried up and that is without doubt their biggest problem. They’ve netted just two across their last six encounters, and in one of their previous four at home.

Bristol City have developed the tag ‘streaky’ over the last season or so and the run they are experiencing now unfortunately for them is something they’ve become accustomed too. However, the one positive that they’ll be holding onto is the fact that these runs have ended before when it seemed as though it never would. Therefore, they’ve got every chance of winning at Millwall on Saturday, but clearly they need to improve. Their showing at Huddersfield was their poorest for a while according to Lee Johnson.

Considering this is a clash involving two teams struggling for form and particularly goals, there is every chance a tactical affair may break out. There is no likely to be huge confidence in front of goal for either, so set pieces are going to be rather important on the day. Therefore, a scrappy match is anticipated, meaning that Under 2.5 Goals has to be a worthy consideration.

Furthermore, only one of Millwall’s previous ten has defeated this goal line. They often get teams to play to their level, and whilst Bristol City like to get on the ball and play, this is likely to be a back to front sort of match and little rhythm is expected for prolonged periods. Five of Bristol City’s previous six on the road also ended below 2.5 goals, plus we cannot ignore the lack of confidence aspect which will further bring these two out of sort’s opponents closer together. The first goal is likely to be key in this, and the earlier that arrives the better as the leader probably won’t go all out for a second.

Asian Total Goals Betting Recommendation:  Under 2.50 at 1.79

West Brom v Wigan

West Brom maintained their assault towards a return to the Premier League when beating Preston North End 2-0 at home last time out. It is now six without defeat, winning five. This was the perfect response to losing away at Cardiff, and Slaven Bilic has built a well-oiled machine. Wigan have come into life in recent times as well, and back-to-back wins have given them additional belief that they can produce another great escape against relegation for the second consecutive season.

Clearly WBA will be big favourites to win this match given they are top of the table and Wigan are battling relegation. However, a word of caution is that for all they’ve been in great form overall in recent times, their home record still remains a bit of a concern. They still actually have failed to win more than they’ve won at home; winning eight compared to a combination of seven draws and two losses at The Hawthorns.

It is also noticeable that West Brom have been made to work especially harder against the lesser teams in the league. Against the current bottom seven across 12 meetings, West Brom only have five wins. Also, their two home defeats came versus Middlesbrough and Stoke City respectively, who sit just above the relegation zone. Wigan therefore may fancy their chances.

Still, a big display will be needed from the Latics to emerge with a point, let alone all three. True, they do have back-to-back wins to their name, but versus mid-table opposition. The key for them now is to test themselves against the Championship elite, and for all that WBA have found it tough against the strugglers, Wigan have made life harder for the top sides, too. They drew with West Brom earlier in the season, won away at Leeds and beat Nottingham Forest.

It is hard to ignore Wigan’s general struggles away from home. Winning 3-0 at Reading last time out is as good as it gets for them on the road. They’re not three unbeaten away, so they’re now building some confidence in that regard. They do seem to come alive at this time of season to get them out of trouble. West Brom are almost coasting towards promotion, and they can ill afford to be complacent in this one.

Both are in good form and an entertaining contest is anticipated. West Brom’s inconsistent home form does open the door to Wigan to cause an upset, and they’re normally good for a goal, especially when in good shape. Wigan are rarely reliable defensively, and the Baggies are the top scorers in the league for a reason. Over 2.5 Goals looks the best call, all things considered.

Asian Total Goals Betting Recommendation: Over 2.50 at 1.750

Preview by:@JamesOR1.

Things are getting more and more exciting as the Championship continues. Place your bets with VOdds for the best oddds or enjoy a hassle-free betting with our Skype betting.

The post EFL Championship Match Previews – 29th February Saturday appeared first on Eastbridge.

source https://eastbridge-sb.com/efl-championship-match-previews-290220/

[mancitynoise]

In 2014/15 Valencia finished fourth in La Liga, conceding six fewer goals than Real Madrid along the way. Though this lofty position was partly attained via a striker in Paco Alcacer who scored 14 goals that season, it was largely made possible by a centre-back pairing who were by turns formidable and highly organised.

Indeed it was a partnership described by The Independent as ‘perfect’.

The first of this perfect duo was a Germany international who had signed for Los Ches from Sampdoria in the summer of 2014. Imposing and positionally sound his only flaw was an ill-discipline that saw him pick up 19 yellows and one red throughout the year. That aside, he was superb.

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Alongside him was a player nicknamed ‘the General’, a combative Argentine who was not only dominant on the ground and in the air but who posed a real threat in the opposition area too scoring six goals. So consistently impressive were his performances that he was included in La Liga’s Team of the Season come May.

That summer the latter of this seemingly perfect duo joined Manchester City. Twelve months later his partner-in-crime followed him to the Premier League when he signed for Arsenal in a deal worth in excess of £35m.

Valencia, looking suitably pained, brought in at least £67m for the pair.

It is hardly a Scooby-Doo reveal but here goes anyway. The pair in question were Shkodran Mustafi and Nicolas Otamendi, players who between them have lowered the standard of defending in the Premier League by a significant percentage. And these past couple of weeks their successful spell in Spain has become ever more pertinent.

A recent poll conducted by the Spanish publication Marca concluded that the 27-year-old Mustafi is the second worst defender on the planet bettering only Manchester United’s Phil Jones.

As for Otamendi his nickname should legitimately be changed to ‘Generally Useless’ after consecutive blunders against Norwich and Wolves resulted in City slipping further behind Liverpool in the title race.

Without the steadying influence of Aymeric Laporte at his shoulder the player whose form two terms ago was so imperious that he made the PFA Team of the Year is now looking perilously hopeless in undertaking the fundamental basics of the art of defending.

He is a mistake waiting to happen and then it happens. He is rash, impulsive and a law onto himself. It should be said that this is not the first time that he has endured such a dramatic decline either.

One Wolves fan thinks he’s pinpointed the moment when they went from EPL strugglers to “peak Barcelona 2011” in the video below…

Returning to Mustafi he spoke out  recently about the welter of criticism he regularly receives from Gooners for his shoddy displays, admitting that it affects him deeply.

“Shortly after Christmas 2018 there was a kink. I’ve made a few mistakes and they’ve created a mess that I’ve never experienced before,” he said in his own defence and though this isn’t remotely true – his shortcomings first became apparent far earlier than late last year – let’s go easy on him and take it at face value. That means a Premier League centre-back has been off the pace for ten months now. That’s not good enough.

In their combined years in England we have seen the best of Mustafi and Otamendi and the very worst, and the very worst has been more frequent sadly.

But let’s end by heading back to Valencia. How long do you think they kept their pained expression up for after bringing in a small fortune for two decidedly unreliable stoppers?

Until the cheques cleared would be our guess.

[everydaynuggets-blog]

How You Can Overturn a Curse by Valuing Blessings

That there be no immoral or godless person like Esau, who sold his own birthright for a single meal. For you know that even afterwards, when HE DESIRED TO INHERIT THE BLESSING, he was rejected, for he found no place for repentance, though he sought for it with tears.

Hebrews 12:16-17 (NASB)

The curses in your life are overturned by the release of blessings. As you receive more and more blessings, they will overturn and overpower the curses that seek to destroy you. As you induce blessings in your life, they completely overpower and overcome the curses that exist everywhere.

For this reason, it is important to desire blessings and to seek them. You must actually fight to be blessed! You must seek to induce all kinds of blessings into your life.

The best example of someone who valued blessings and sought after them was Jacob. The fight between Jacob and Esau was a fight over blessings. I have never heard of Christians fighting over blessings pronounced by their father. I have heard of people fighting over inheritance and property, but not over the pronouncement of blessings. Unfortunately, Esau like many unspiritual people did not value his birthright or his spiritual blessings.

The Bible describes him as a profane person. The word “profane” is translated from the Greek word “bebelos”. “Bebelos” means an irreligious person who despises sacred things. Anyone who despises sacred things will despise blessings! Esau despised the blessings that were rightfully his.

And Jacob sod pottage: and Esau came from the field, and he was faint: And Esau said to Jacob, Feed me, I pray thee, with that same red pottage; for I am faint: therefore was his name called Edom. And Jacob said, Sell me this day thy birthright. And Esau said, Behold, I am at the point to die: and what profit shall this birthright do to me? And Jacob said, Swear to me this day; and he sware unto him: and he sold his birthright unto Jacob. Then Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentiles; and he did eat and drink, and rose up, and went his way: thus Esau despised his birthright.

Genesis 25: 29-34

If you are not spiritual, you will despise the concept of receiving blessings. Esau despised blessings and ended up as a struggler. I want you to desire each and every single blessing that is listed here because each one of them will have a powerful effect on your life.

The blessing that Esau despised was received happily by Jacob. This blessing gave him three advantages in this world and drowned out the effect of the curse on his life. The blessings that Jacob received overwhelmed the curses on the earth that affected everyone. This is going to be the effect of powerful blessings on your life. These blessings will completely overpower, overcome and overturn whatever curse is working in your life.

1. The blessings that Esau despised were given to Jacob and made him into a great and famous nation!

…Behold, I HAVE MADE HIM thy lord…

Genesis 27:37

2. The blessings that Esau despised were given to Jacob and made him the master of his brethren.

…ALL HIS BRETHREN HAVE I GIVEN TO HIM for servants…

Genesis 27:37

3. The blessings that Esau despised were given to Jacob and sustained him throughout his life!

…with corn and wine have I SUSTAINED HIM…

Genesis 27:37

by Dag Heward-Mills

[tomk4e]

Premier League Boxing Day Review

Boxing Day is wonderful. It is one of the many highlights of the holiday schedule in the Premier League. This year 18 teams played their 19th game of the season on Boxing day, while two played the day after. And before you know it, the Premier League will be back this weekend for matchday 20. But before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s take a look at some of the more important results to come from Boxing Day and matchday 19.

Aston Villa earn a massive three points

Aston Villa and Norwich City faced each other in a vital mid-season six-pointer at the bottom of the table. Entering the matchweek Villa and Norwich were 18th and 19th respectively, tied on 15 points. And it was Aston Villa who wrestled away all three points after a tense 1-0 win over their fellow relegation strugglers.

Norwich will feel hard done by with the result. However, the Canaries’s inability to score is what is costing them results. Last week against Wolves, Norwich dominated the first half, creating multiple scoring chances, but were only able to score once. They would be punished for their poor finishing in the second half and lose 2-1. This week, Norwich had six shots on target, one attempt bounce off the woodwork and an Alex Tettey shot cleared off the line by Villa’s Dougla Luiz.

Substitute Conor Hourihane scored the only goal in the 64th minute. This win is also Villa’s first in the Premier League in a month, when they beat Newcastle 2-0. And although Aston Villa are still in the relegation zone after the win, they are now just one point behind 17th-place West Ham. With their next two league games against Watford and Burnley, Aston Villa will have two excellent opportunities to climb out of the relegation zone at the turn of the new year.

Chelsea stumble at home to Southampton

Just four days after their impressive 2-0 win at Tottenham, Chelsea returned home to Stamford Bridge on Boxing Day to play Southampton. And instead of building on the success of their last result, Chelsea squandered an opportunity to distance themselves from 5th-place thanks to a 2-0 loss to the Saints.

Chelsea had 66% possession and completed 555 passes, but barely did anything to threaten Southampton’s defense. And Chelsea’s poor attacking display came off the back of one of their best of the season. Willian, who was man-of-the-match against Tottenham, lacked cutting-edge.

Manager Frank Lampard made three changes, likely due to the busy schedule, that had a negative effect on Chelsea’s attack. The most important of the three was likely replacing Mason Mount with Callum Hudson-Odoi amongst the front three. Mount has been one of Chelsea’s best attacking outlets this season. The 20 year old Englishman has five goals and one assist in 19 appearances this season. Compare this to Hudson-Odoi who has no goals and three assists in just 11 appearances in the Premier League, and Chelsea left a vital cog of their attack on the bench.    

Meanwhile, the Saints were contempt with soaking up Chelsea’s meagre attack, and hitting them on the counterattack. Southampton’s two goals, the first by Michael Obafemi in the 31st minute, and the second by Nathan Redmond in the 73rd minute, came due to incisive attacking from the Saints.

Chelsea’s six-point lead over Tottenham has been cut in half in less than a week after they beat their London rivals. And now they only have a two point lead over Wolves. During a period of the season where the best teams rise to the challenge of a congested fixture list, Chelsea have floundered. Chelsea’s next game will be away to a desperate Arsenal side looking to reignite their season after the appointment of new manager Mikel Arteta.

Liverpool extend their lead

League-leading Liverpool returned from their FIFA Club World Cup triumph with a match at 2nd-place Leicester City. And what could have been an exciting showcase turned out to be a one-sided beatdown as Liverpool swept aside Leicester City 4-0. Liverpool now has a 13 point lead over Leicester and a 14 point lead over Manchester City after they played Wolves on Friday (more on that later).

It took Liverpool 37 seconds to register their first shot on target, and from there the Reds demolished Leicester. Liverpool fashioned chance after chance, constantly exerting their pressure on Leicester’s usually resilient defense. Prior to this match, Leicester had the league’s best defense, conceding just 14 goals and keeping seven clean sheets.

However, that didn’t deter Liverpool from scoring the opening goal in the 31st minute after Trent Alexander-Arnold delivered a pin-point cross to Roberto Firmino. For the remainder of the first half, Liverpool continued to press Leicester, but were unable to double their lead.

This frustration continued for the Reds in the second half. Liverpool would engineer multiple scoring chances, but squander them due to poor finishing or an excellent last-ditch tackle from a Leicester defender. There was even a 10-minute period in the second half where Leicester threatened to tie the game. Had Leicester scored during this period, against the run of play, then the complexion of the match would have greatly changed. However, that wasn’t the case.

After Leicester’s 10-minute spurt, Liverpool flexed their muscles again. The Reds attack exploded, scoring three goals in less than 10 minutes and finally put the game to rest. Substitute James Milner scored a penalty in the 71st minute, Firmino benefited from another Alexander-Arnold assist in the 74th and Alexander-Arnold capped off a man of the match performance with a goal in the 78th.

Liverpool’s dominance this season has been staggering. In 18 matches they have won 17 and drawn one for a total of 52 points. They are on pace to amass 109 points and break Manchester City’s points record that was set two seasons ago. And even though we are just at the halfway point of the season, one has to wonder if Liverpool could go the entire season unbeaten.

Wolves and Manchester City produce a classic

The only game on Friday between Wolves and Manchester City was a doozy. Entering the match Man City had an opportunity to reclaim 2nd place with a win, while Wolves could move within two points of a Champions League place. By the end of the math there had been a sending off, a penalty retaken and a two goal deficit erased.

The match really kicked off in the 11th minute when Man City goalkeeper was sent off for denying a goalscoring opportunity. The Brazilian goalkeeper came out of his box to try and stop pass over the top of his defense intended for Wolves’ Diogo Jota. Instead, Jota chipped the ball over the head of the onrushing Ederson. With zero chance of winning the ball, Edrson clattered into Jota and was given his marching orders by referee Martin Atkinson.

Man City would have to play almost 80 minutes with 10-men and without their starting goalkeeper. Meanwhile, Wolves just had to grind down and already depleted Man City defense that was starting midfielder Fernandinho in central defense. However, Man City were given a lifeline after VAR had deemed that Man City winger Riyad Mahrez was tripped in the box, awarding the visitors a penalty.

Raheem Sterling’s first penalty was saved, but VAR got involved again after the review caught Wolves players encroaching in the box when the ball was struck. With a second opportunity Sterling stepped up again, and the penalty was saved again. However, Wolves goalkeeper Rui Patricio could only palm the ball back to Sterling, who calmly slotted home the rebound. Then in the 50th minute, the 10-men Man City would double their lead thanks to Sterling again. The Citizens were playing like champions.

After Sterling’s second goal, Wolves would have 40 minutes and a man-advantage to erase a two-goal deficit. The comeback started when Adama Traore fired a low shot past substitute goalkeeper Claudio Bravo in the 55th minute. Nearly 30 minutes later Wolves had drawn level. Traore was involved again, however this time he assisted on Raul Jimenez’s tap-in. It didn’t take Wolves long to find the winning goal after that. This time it was Jimenez who turned provider. The Mexican striker smartly back-heeled a pass into the onrushing Mathew Doherty, and from there the Irish wing-back did the rest. With his weaker left foot, Doherty scored Wolve’s third and the winning goal.

The comeback was complete. Wolves had moved closer to the Champions League while Man City suffered another loss in what has become a one-sided title race.      

With the win, Wolves became just the second team ever to beat a Pep Guardiola-led team in the league twice in a season. This includes Guardiola’s time managing in Spain and Germany. The only other team to do so was Chelsea during the 2016/17 season, which was Guardiola’s first in the Premier League with Manchester City.

Goal of the week: Jordan Ayew vs. West Ham

Jordan Ayew scored a beautiful winning goal against West Ham on Boxing Day. The Ghanaian forward dribbled in from the right sideline, pirouetted past one defender, dribbled between two and then calmly chipped the ball past West Ham goalkeeper Roberto. And what makes this goal even better, it was a 90th minute winner. Classy.  

[livmoose]

Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came

Robert Browning

Child Rowland to the dark tower came, His word was still 'Fie, foh, and fum I smell the blood of a British man. Shakespeare ‘King Lear’, act 3, scene 4

My first thought was, he lied in every word,  That hoary cripple, with malicious eye  Askance to watch the working of his lie On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford Suppression of the glee, that purs’d and scor’d  Its edge, at one more victim gain’d thereby.

What else should he be set for, with his staff?  What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare  All travellers who might find him posted there, And ask the road? I guess’d what skull-like laugh Would break, what crutch ’gin write my epitaph  For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare,

If at his counsel I should turn aside  Into that ominous tract which, all agree,  Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly I did turn as he pointed: neither pride Nor hope rekindling at the end descried,  So much as gladness that some end might be.

For, what with my whole world-wide wandering,  What with my search drawn out thro’ years, my hope  Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope With that obstreperous joy success would bring,— I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring  My heart made, finding failure in its scope.

As when a sick man very near to death  Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end  The tears and takes the farewell of each friend, And hears one bid the other go, draw breath Freelier outside, (“since all is o’er,” he saith,  “And the blow fallen no grieving can amend;”)

While some discuss if near the other graves  Be room enough for this, and when a day  Suits best for carrying the corpse away, With care about the banners, scarves and staves, And still the man hears all, and only craves  He may not shame such tender love and stay.

Thus, I had so long suffer’d, in this quest,  Heard failure prophesied so oft, been writ  So many times among “The Band”—to wit, The knights who to the Dark Tower’s search address’d Their steps—that just to fail as they, seem’d best.  And all the doubt was now—should I be fit?

So, quiet as despair, I turn’d from him,  That hateful cripple, out of his highway  Into the path the pointed. All the day Had been a dreary one at best, and dim Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim  Red leer to see the plain catch its estray.

For mark! no sooner was I fairly found  Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two,  Than, pausing to throw backward a last view O’er the safe road, ’t was gone; gray plain all round: Nothing but plain to the horizon’s bound.  I might go on; nought else remain’d to do.

So, on I went. I think I never saw  Such starv’d ignoble nature; nothing throve:  For flowers—as well expect a cedar grove! But cockle, spurge, according to their law Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,  You ’d think; a burr had been a treasure trove.

No! penury, inertness and grimace,  In the strange sort, were the land’s portion. “See  Or shut your eyes,” said Nature peevishly, “It nothing skills: I cannot help my case: ’T is the Last Judgment’s fire must cure this place,  Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free.”

If there push’d any ragged thistle=stalk  Above its mates, the head was chopp’d; the bents  Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents In the dock’s harsh swarth leaves, bruis’d as to baulk All hope of greenness? ’T is a brute must walk  Pashing their life out, with a brute’s intents.

As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair  In leprosy; thin dry blades prick’d the mud  Which underneath look’d kneaded up with blood. One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare, Stood stupefied, however he came there:  Thrust out past service from the devil’s stud!

Alive? he might be dead for aught I know,  With that red, gaunt and collop’d neck a-strain,  And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane; Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe; I never saw a brute I hated so;  He must be wicked to deserve such pain.

I shut my eyes and turn’d them on my heart.  As a man calls for wine before he fights,  I ask’d one draught of earlier, happier sights, Ere fitly I could hope to play my part. Think first, fight afterwards—the soldier’s art:  One taste of the old time sets all to rights.

Not it! I fancied Cuthbert’s reddening face  Beneath its garniture of curly gold,  Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold An arm in mine to fix me to the place, That way he us’d. Alas, one night’s disgrace!  Out went my heart’s new fire and left it cold.

Giles then, the soul of honor—there he stands  Frank as ten years ago when knighted first.  What honest man should dare (he said) he durst. Good—but the scene shifts—faugh! what hangman hands Pin to his breast a parchment? His own bands  Read it. Poor traitor, spit upon and curst!

Better this present than a past like that;  Back therefore to my darkening path again!  No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain. Will the night send a howlet of a bat? I asked: when something on the dismal flat  Came to arrest my thoughts and change their train.

A sudden little river cross’d my path  As unexpected as a serpent comes.  No sluggish tide congenial to the glooms; This, as it froth’d by, might have been a bath For the fiend’s glowing hoof—to see the wrath  Of its black eddy bespate with flakes and spumes.

So petty yet so spiteful All along,  Low scrubby alders kneel’d down over it;  Drench’d willows flung them headlong in a fit Of mute despair, a suicidal throng: The river which had done them all the wrong,  Whate’er that was, roll’d by, deterr’d no whit.

Which, while I forded,—good saints, how I fear’d  To set my foot upon a dead man’s cheek,  Each step, or feel the spear I thrust to seek For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard! —It may have been a water-rat I spear’d,  But, ugh! it sounded like a baby’s shriek.

Glad was I when I reach’d the other bank.  Now for a better country. Vain presage!  Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank Soil to a plash? Toads in a poison’d tank,  Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage—

The fight must so have seem’d in that fell cirque.  What penn’d them there, with all the plain to choose?  No foot-print leading to that horrid mews, None out of it. Mad brewage set to work Their brains, no doubt, like galley-slaves the Turk  Pits for his pastime, Christians against Jews.

And more than that—a furlong on—why, there!  What bad use was that engine for, that wheel,  Or brake, not wheel—that harrow fit to reel Men’s bodies out like silk? with all the air Of Tophet’s tool, on earth left unaware,  Or brought to sharpen its rusty teeth of steel.

Then came a bit of stubb’d ground, once a wood,  Next a marsh, it would seem, and now mere earth  Desperate and done with; (so a fool finds mirth, Makes a thing and then mars it, till his mood Changes and off he goes!) within a rood—  Bog, clay, and rubble, sand and stark black dearth.

Now blotches rankling, color’d gay and grim,  Now patches where some leanness of the soil’s  Broke into moss or substances like thus; Then came some palsied oak, a cleft in him Like a distorted mouth that splits its rim  Gaping at death, and dies while it recoils.

And just as far as ever from the end,  Nought in the distance but the evening, nought  To point my footstep further! At the thought, A great black bird, Apollyon’s bosom-friend, Sail’d past, nor beat his wide wing dragon-penn’d  That brush’d my cap—perchance the guide I sought.

For, looking up, aware I somehow grew,  Spite of the dusk, the plain had given place  All round to mountains—with such name to grace Mere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in view. How thus they had surpris’d me,—solve it, you!  How to get from them was no clearer case.

Yet half I seem’d to recognize some trick  Of mischief happen’d to me, God knows when—  In a bad perhaps. Here ended, then, Progress this way. When, in the very nick Of giving up, one time more, came a click  As when a trap shuts—you ’re inside the den.

Burningly it came on me all at once,  This was the place! those two hills on the right,  Couch’d like two bulls lock’d horn in horn in fight, While, to the left, a tall scalp’d mountain … Dunce, Dotard, a-dozing at the very nonce,  After a life spent training for the sight!

What in the midst lay but the Tower itself?  The round squat turret, blind as the fool’s heart,  Built of brown stone, without a counter-part In the whole world. The tempest’s mocking elf Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf  He strikes on, only when the timbers start.

Not see? because of night perhaps?—Why, day  Came back again for that! before it left,  The dying sunset kindled through a cleft: The hills, like giants at a hunting, lay, Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay,—  “Now stab and end the creature—to the heft!”

Not hear? when noise was everywhere! it toll’d  Increasing like a bell. Names in my ears  Of all the lost adventurers my peers,— How such a one was strong, and such was bold, And such was fortunate, yet each of old  Lost, lost! one moment knell’d the woe of years.

There they stood, ranged along the hill-sides, met  To view the last of me, a living frame  For one more picture! in a sheet of flame I saw them and I knew them all. And yet Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set,  And blew “Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.”

[tipsoctopus]

“Class is permanent”, “Lucky”, “Liability” - These Leeds fans are split on 27y/o ace

Leeds United eased past strugglers Reading by a 3-0 scoreline at the Madejski Stadium on Tuesday night. The result saw Marcelo Bielsa’s side maintain their pace in the Championship title race.

Mateusz Klich opened the scoring for the Whites, before a well-taken Pablo Hernandez brace added gloss to the scoreline and sealed the points. One player who didn’t find the back of the net himself, but did make a huge contribution in the final third nonetheless, was right-back Luke Ayling.

Are fans being priced out of the Championship as well as the Premier League? The angry Bolton fan in the video below certainly believes so…

The 27-year-old defender registered two assists against the Royals and produced a fine all round performance. The Arsenal academy product was dynamic and aggressive going forwards and looked to be full of confidence. Considering he has struggled at times in recent weeks, this was a welcome return to form.

However, had the referee not veered on the side of leniency, Ayling may have been sent off for one particularly poor challenge.

After the match, plenty of Leeds fans took to Twitter to discuss the full-back’s contribution…

Back to his best these past few games. Credit to Bielsa for sticking with him when many wanted him dropped.

— Rob (@rabmchuggett) 12 March 2019

As I mentioned before on his twitter page form is temporary class is permanent,getting back to his very best

— Royce Dunston (@roycedun) 12 March 2019

i think ayling and alioski have been superb the last 2/3 games we’ve played, alioski’s decision making is so much better than what it used to be, and aylings back to his best, 3 assist in 2 games #lufc

— Simmo (@1simmo1) 13 March 2019

Fwiw I thought Ayling was poor tonight, lucky to stay on.

— paul warrick (LUFC) (@paulwarrick3) 13 March 2019

Bit generous Phil despite 3 nil win. Yeah Ayling 2 assists but still feel he’s a liability, fear Blunts (or any decent side which Reading clearly are not) will expose him or Alioski

— Paul Fox (@foxy2319) 13 March 2019

So pleased for Ayling. He’s struggled to rediscover his form post-injury, but tonight was so much closer to his best. #lufc

— The Scratching Shed (@TSSLUFC) 12 March 2019

Ayling was superb tonight and you need players like him to succeed. His attitude is also first rate. Top player, top bloke and we are lucky to have him

— Andy (@andygre63032144) 12 March 2019

Outplayed all over the park , should of been more than 3-0 to us but I do admit ayling should of seen red , don’t know if it would of changed much though

— luke john wood (@woodlj09) 12 March 2019

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