La Tragedia de Luzhniki (1982)
Fuente I Los Pleyers.
Hoy se cumplen cuarenta años de una de las mayores tragedias acontecidas en el fútbol . En el viejo Estadio Central Lenin, hoy Estadio de Luznhiki, se disputaba el partido por los dieciseisavos de la Copa de la UEFA entre el Spartak de Moscú y el Haarlem de Holanda. Con diez grados bajo cero los más de 18.000 aficionados se vieron obligados a ubicarse en una sola tribuna para combatir el frío.
Llegados los minutos finales, con el equipo local ganando 1-0 y con un frío que calaba los huesos los hinchas decidieron retirarse cuando Shvetsov marcó el segundo tanto ruso. Los espectadores que estaban abandonando el recinto retornaron ante los gritos de gol. Esto produjo un choque con los que salían, provocando aplastamientos que se saldaron con más de 300 muertos a pesar del falseamiento soviético del número de víctimas, primero cifrados en 10 y luego elevados a 62.
A finales de los 80, con la llegada de las Glasnot, se reveló que fueron 340 personas las fallecidas. Shvetsov, el autor del segundo gol fue tristemente tajante cuando la prensa le interrogó al respecto: “Nunca debí marcar ese gol…”.
El campeón de esa temporada fue el Anderlecht belga, quedando el Spartak eliminado en la siguiente ronda de Octavos tras empatar y perder 2-0 con el Valencia.
Fuente de ambas imágenes I AS.
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𝕸𝖔𝖞 𝕸𝖎𝖗
𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Sorry, Night Lord lovers.
𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.
𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊: Be 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 for/of yourself. Even it’s just a tiny cut. I also don’t ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ these 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜.
TW // Slight SMUT/NSFW? Yandere Themes, Google Translation.
It’s only been two weeks since he's been away from home, from his little Мир. All he wanted to do was lay his head on her lap. To feel how her hands dragged along his head that sent shivers down his spine, calming his wrath. He wanted to smell her comforting scent mixed with his own, telling him that one else tried to take her from him. To take what is his.
There has been sometimes where one would try and take her themselves. Especially the humans, they were the worst at it. Trying to steal away his bonded. His Мир. The only human to bring him solitude, and it infuriated him to no end. Did they not want him to have the peace she has given him? Did they want him to massacre them for the blood god? Because that is something he will do if they don’t stop their meager attempts. He’s already killed many before, what makes them think he won’t slaughter anymore?
The Astartes were much more honorable to deal with than the cowardly human. They would wait for his return to challenge him for his bonded or make a challenge to him when he was there, out of his bonded sight. Knowing how… empathetic most humans can be. It's something that he lets most of them live for. Their consideration of not ruining their bond for the other.
Though, sometimes he would like his bonded to watch. To watch his prowess of how he pulls the limb off his opponent's body. How he snaps their bones into two, leaving shards of their bone with their torn flesh in the terra, feeding the flora with their blood. He wants to see her marvel at him. To admire his hulking physique. Even applaud for his performance of slaying his contender. Khorne, just even gift him a flower and he will know that he’s been rewarded for both approval and defending her like in one of those “knight movies” she saw her stare at.
He would also like to do more with his bonded, but he wasn’t one to force. He didn’t want to ruin what he already has with his bonded. He knows that she can not feel the same bond as he does, and that irritates him slightly.
He just wishes he could pin his little Мир down to the ground right after showing her what lengths he goes through to keep her by his side. Watch her weep tears of pleasure as he fills her again and again, staking his claim on her in more ways than one. He wishes to feel her soft skin on top of his. Feel her ride him up, and down as he pulls her back down on him, rutting up into her, listening to her cry out for him. Khorne, he even wished to know what she tasted like.
Yet, he forced himself to be patient. He didn’t want to spook her away just because of his unfathomable desires. He didn’t want to lose what bond they already have, but he was tired of being stuck in this “friendzone” the humans called it. Some even spoke of “cockblocked” Whatever that meant. It must mean something similar to friendzone right?
Upon coming closer to his little Мир home. He realized something was off. Her scent didn’t cling to the house, it was faded. Meaning she was gone for a long time, too long for it to be fading. Did someone take her while he was on his mission? Oh, that thought made him spark with fury. Who dares to take what his without him noticing?
He marches inside the home. Bending a little to get the through door. Knowing that if he even remotely destroyed her nest, she would not talk to him for days afterward, and that was hard enough for his anguishing mind.
His eyes carefully scanned the area around him that looked relatively clean for someone to come in and steal his bonded. While he looked around for clues of his bonded. He had remembered this Night Lord who thought he wasn’t around. Prowling around with his blue armor shimmering against the moonlight. It was clear that this was a younger Night Lord, considering that his stealth was not mastered like the ones he’s faced off against before. Plus, this one didn’t even come up to challenge him like the others did. This one was trying to be discreet, and that sent him into a frenzy.
He didn’t hesitate to rush at the Night Lord, slamming into him as they shook the ground beneath them. Both talon-like gauntlets tearing at each other's armor. Creating sparks, and scratches in their armor before pushing off and circling one another.
Threats, and unholy promises of him, and his bonded were made between the two. Enraging Spartak further. How dare this youngling defile her name upon their tongue?! Speaking of ways he could use her for his own enjoyment?!
Spartak roared out, dashing at the Night Lord once more. Doing a fake strike down at the Night Lord, watching them dodge right into his real strike into his chest-piece. His gauntlet piercing their chest piece, picking them up, and hucked them to the side. Taking a tree down with a loud snap! This Night Lord might be younger, and faster, but he wasn't stronger nor experienced than Spartak was. He has defeated many before, what makes this one think he can escape for him too?
The Night Lord scrambled up from the ground, and charged him, letting out their own snarl. His form unexperienced; laughable.
Spartak growled, and shot forward, snatching the Night Lord by the gorget, and rasied him up to his own helmet. A surprised, robotic gurgle coming from the Night Lord. Gauntlets desperately clawing at his chest-piece, and pauldrons in a pathetic attempt to dislodge him. If he could, he would have torn this welp piece by piece, limb by limb.
However, what he couldn't account for was his bonded to witness everything he has done to the Night Lord so far. A shout coming out from her lips as she demanded him to let go of the Night Lord.
Spartak huffed, but reluctantly obliged. Throwing the Night Lord off to the side again. Watching him as he scrambled to get back up on his two feet before dashing away into the forest. His arm settling close to his chest. Getting the message, for now.
He also remembered how upset his little Мир had gotten with him that day. Her eyes looking up to him in a furious expression. Her own little body rising up in mock anger. It sent a certain yearning down his body that he was all too familiar with.
Oh, how cute she was when she was angry. When she didn’t even know the true definition of rage. Especially, the one he feels now.
He has checked the house over, and over again. There was nothing out of place. No furniture overturned. No scent of another human or Astartes in the home. No missing items or gifts he had brought to her except a few pieces of clothing.
Except, a few pieces of clothing.
An anguished roar left him. Rattling the houses walls; cracking some windows and then, he tore against his better judgment. Shredding through walls, tearing down support beams, throwing furniture out of his way through plain walls and windows until there was nothing left of the house, but its cement foundations and a layer of debris with him huffing in the middle.
She had left him. She had left him willingly.
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