#I don’t remember much about them I just wanted to finally design timmy after three months

[mandibugs]

actual fucking loser

[petersasteria]

168 Hours - Haz Osterfield (7)

Pairing: Haz x Reader

Haz Osterfield Masterlist ||  Ultimate Masterlist || 168 Hours Masterlist

DISCLAIMER:  *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which your son’s wish comes true and it turns horrible. Now, he has to fix it in 168 hours.

𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 for something or someone to come to you is difficult. The first few seconds feel like minutes. Then a few minutes go by and it feels like an hour. After hours go by, they feel like days have passed. That's how Amadis was feeling ever since he arrived at the apartment that night. Despite knowing that Harley was safe under his father's wing, Amadis was here for his very first mission and he didn't want to mess it up. He wants to impress God, after all. Besides, as long as this mission is still going on, Harley is his responsibility.

Amadis paces back and forth in his apartment. It's been twenty-four hours since he landed on Earth and twenty-four hours since he met Harley. He had to admit, he didn't like Harley that much when they met. It's nothing personal. Amadis isn't really fond of children. The little angels in heaven were cute and kind, but Amadis didn't fancy being around them. He'd much prefer a peaceful day all to himself than play with them. Harley is no exception to this one, but as he got to know him, Amadis realized that Harley wasn't like other kids.

Amadis looks at his watch and lets out a sigh of relief when he sees Harley's current activity.

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬' 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Amadis quickly gets dressed in a more casual outfit before going downstairs to meet with them. Upon reaching the lobby area, Harley and Harrison enter. The angel smiles at the sight and immediately walks to them after getting money from the mailbox, of course.

"Hi! I'm so sorry for the trouble. Was he good?" Amadis asks Harrison who looks down at Harley with a smile before looking at Amadis.

"Oh don't worry about it. He was alright. We had fun, didn't we?" Harrison turns to Harley who nods excitedly.

Amadis has never seen Harley like this before. Although to be fair, it's only been twenty-four hours. They have the rest of one hundred and forty-four hours to get to know each other all while planning on how to get Harrison and Y/N together.

"I'm glad both of you have become acquainted." Amadis says and smiles when an idea pops in his head. "Is it alright to get your phone number? I'm quite busy sometimes and I'm sure Harley can use some company other than mine."

Harrison shrugs and says, "Sure! He's a fun kid, anyway."

Amadis hands Harrison his new phone and Harrison quickly types in his number before giving it back. Harrison smiles at the two of them and says, "Well, I have to leave now. I have a job interview to go to. I don't want to be late."

Amadis then feels something inside of him. 'Gut instincts, perhaps?' he asks himself. He isn't sure, but if his gut instincts are telling him that Harrison is applying for a job at Tom Holland's company, he just has to ask.

"Really? Harley and I can accompany you there! We have to go out anyway. Where will you apply?" Amadis asks as all three of them walk out of the apartment building.

'Gut instincts, I know I thought you didn't exist before, but if you're right about Harrison applying at Tom Holland's company, I will never second guess again.' Amadis tells himself.

"Holland Incorporation. I'm kind of nervous." Harrison chuckles lightly as three of them turn a corner.

'Oh my days. My gut instincts were right!' Amadis thinks and smiles to himself before asking, "Wow! What position will you apply for?"

Harrison glances at him before looking straight ahead, "Don't laugh."

"...Alright."

"I'll be applying for the position of social media manager. I'll handle the company's social media." Harrison says.

"That's actually pretty interesting yet difficult at the same time." Amadis admits as Harrison just nods in agreement. A few moments later, they finally reach the building of Holland Incorporation.

The building's exterior looks aesthetically pleasing which is fitting for what the company is all about. It's a furniture company and it makes perfect sense that the exterior looks beautiful. It doesn't look intimidating like the other buildings around the city which is rather calmer and it's partly the reason why a lot of people apply in the company. If that was there initial plan when the building was designed, then whoever came up with the idea must be a genius.

"Well, we're here." Harrison says. He turns to Amadis and Harley and smiles, "I'll see you guys later. Text me if you need anything, mate."

"Bye Harrison! Good luck!" Harley smiles.

Harrison chuckles and ruffles up his hair before saying goodbye to the two of them and entering the large and tall building.

Amadis and Harley look at each other and at the same time ask, "Breakfast?"

They both chuckle and walk to the nearest place to eat some breakfast. It's still early, but a lot of people are already filling up the place. Mostly businessmen and businesswomen. The angel and the child didn't have the patience to wait so they opted for eating breakfast at a restaurant instead. It may be expensive, but at least they wouldn't be in the way of business people who are in a hurry.

The host leads them to a table for two and he give them their menus. Amadis and Harley immediately look at the breakfast part of the menu. Their mouths start to water just as they see the picture of the food, so they immediately call for the waiter and order their food.

"I'll have pancakes with fruit, an orange juice, and a ham and cheese sandwich, please!" Harley grins and gives the menu to the waiter.

"I'll have a bacon sandwich, pineapple juice, and a slice of cake." Amadis says and gives back the menu. The waiter smiles at them and tells them that their food will be there in a few minutes.

The restaurant didn't have a lot of people in it. Their peak hours are during lunch and dinner time anyway. Amadis and Harley sit in comfortable silence when Amadis clears his throat, "So what happened yesterday when I was gone?"

Harley smiles brightly, "I performed outside! I borrowed the guitar of the lady and I sang 'Don't Stop Believin'' and everyone loved it! My dad was really proud, though. Even uncle Timmy was proud. Then we went to their apartment and we played video games and we had pizza! It was so fun, Amadis. I wish you could've seen it."

"I guess it was meant that I wasn't there, then. It's your time with your father, anyway." Amadis says and quickly remembers that he met Y/N yesterday. "I, uh, met your mother yesterday. I have her phone number."

Harley's eyes widen, "Really? We can get them together, then!"

"I know, but we need a plan!" Amadis says in frustration. He runs a hand through his hair as he thinks of a plan. Harley just looks around the restaurant. In the middle of Amadis' thinking, their food arrives and they begin to eat.

They eat in silence and as Harley chews his food and his eyes wander around the restaurant, he immediately forms an idea. Harley swallows his food before saying, "I have an idea!"

"Great! Let's hear it." Amadis says. He really couldn't think of anything.

"What if all four of us go out? It'll be fun! That way, they'll be together!" Harley smiles.

"I like that, but they really need to be together..." Amadis trails off and looks away. His eyes widen in realization and looks at Harley with a twinkle in his eyes, "I'll leave you alone with them!"

"What?!"

"Hear me out!" Amadis chuckles as he takes a sip of his juice. "We'll get your idea: all four of us going out and bonding. But in the middle of it, I'll leave and say that I have to do something and I'll ask them if they could watch you. Obviously, they wouldn't say no-"

"How are you so sure that they won't say no?"

"Because my gut says so."

"Fair enough. Then what'll happen?"

"Then you'll drop some hints and just act cute; act like a family." Amadis says. Harley nods, "Okay. Will it work?"

"It will! Oh and go to the park! Strangers love seeing families at the park and they'll say stuff like 'you have such a lovely family!'. It'll work, trust me." Amadis says with confidence. Harley nods and says, "Fine, but if it doesn't work, we need another plan."

"Do you have other plans in mind?" Amadis asks.

"We could ask them to 'babysit' me, but individually. Then I can talk to them about the other. After that, they'll realize that they like each other and then they're in love!" Harley smiles.

"Falling in love takes a while." Amadis says with a chuckle.

"Yeah, but I know that they fell in love in one week before and if they can do that before, they can do it again." Harley shrugs.

"How do we get rid of Tom, though?" Amadis questions. "Let's not forget that he's engaged to her."

"Oh shit. You're right." Harley mumbles.

"Hey!" Amadis says with a frown. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Ask yourself if I kiss my mother." Harley smirks.

'Children will be the death of me.' Amadis thinks.

"Anyway, I don't know how to deal with uncle Tommy." Harley tells him.

"How about, I'll deal with him when you're out with your parents? I'll set his name up on my watch-"

"Your Apple watch?" Harley giggles.

Amadis rolls his eyes playfully, "My Apple watch and then I'll follow him around. I'll handle it."

Harley shrugs, "Whatever works for you, works for me."

"Let's just let things happen, alright?" Amadis sighs and continues to eat.

In order for their plans to work, they need to be patient and they need to wait for everything to fall into place like how they want. Not everything can be in place in a short amount of time.

Waiting for something or someone to come to you is difficult. The first few seconds feel like minutes. Then a few minutes go by and it feels like an hour. After hours go by, they feel like days have passed. You'll then realize that if you pay no mind to the things happening around you and just let things be, time will quickly pass and before you know it, the thing you're waiting for is already here.

* * * *

welcome back to me, bitches x

𝐇𝐀𝐙 𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland​​​​ @silencetheslaves​​​ @peachmaybnx​ @imeanlifesabitshit​ @joyleenl​​​

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell​ @justasmisunderstoodasloki​ @rubberducky-jrr​ @petersholland​ @osterfieldnholland​ @miraclesoflove​

[johnnydoe69]

Shedding the Old Skin

Timothy sat on his boyfriend’s couch exhausted. His head throbbed, his pits stank, and sweat continued to pour down his face and neck. Timothy had spent the last four hours handing out Kevin Thompson re-election flyers in the sticky New York City heat. A pile of untaken flyers mocked him from the coffee table with the profile of Kevin Thompson seeming to glare at him. 

    Meanwhile, Timothy’s boyfriend, Freddie, strolled around his kitchen in nothing but a pair of stained underwear, grabbing bags of chips and a bong. Timothy wasn’t the biggest fan of smoking pot, but he was afraid that Freddie already saw him as a pussy and he didn’t want Freddie’s opinion of him to sink any lower than it already was.

Not that it seemed to matter. Timothy figured it was only a matter of time before Freddie left him for someone more confident and more open about their queerness. Freddie had come out as a trans guy at 16 and gay at 24, while at 28 Timothy was still in the closet. He didn’t even want to hold hands with Freddie in public, let alone do any of the reckless shit Freddie wanted to do like fuck on a park bench or giving each other hickies on the subway. 

Timothy was constantly aware of straight people’s opinions of him as he went about his life and he did everything in his power to hide from them. He made sure his voice was low and masculine whenever he spoke in public. He only wore button-up shirts and khaki pants, he kept his blonde hair short and trim, and he made himself as quiet and small as humanly possible to avoid attention.

Freddie plopped himself on the couch next to Timothy, spilling the bags of chips on the coffee table, and once he got comfortable, lighting his bong with a rainbow lighter. Once he had smoked enough for a good buzz, Freddie passed the bong over to Timothy who took a quick whiff and coughed out most of it. Freddie laughed, his voice deep and melodious, “I can’t believe you're in your twenties and you smoke like you’re 15.”

Timothy shook his head sheepishly and said, “I only started smoking when I met you. You can’t expect me to be an expert at this already.” 

He handed the bong back to Freddie, the both of them knowing he wouldn’t take a second whiff until it was almost empty. Freddie took another inhale when he noticed the huge stack of flyers underneath the bags of chips on the coffee table. He put the bong down and picked up one of the flyers. Plastered across its design was a smiling man in a suit and tie, surrounded in a semi-circle by a group of working-class people looking to him with awe. 

“Please tell me you didn’t spend 4 hours handing out flyers for this choad,” Freddie said, turning to Timothy with a crumpled expression.

“It really wasn’t that bad. I grew up in the Jehovah’s Witnesses, I’m used to standing in the hot sun trying to save people from themselves.” Timothy said, suddenly deciding he needed to take another hit from. Taking Freddie’s lighter, he lit the bong and inhaled as much weed as he could, desperately trying to ignore the worried expression on his boyfriend’s face. Freddie crumpled up the flyer and dropped it to the floor. 

“Timmy, I’m fucking worried about you. You let people walk all over you and you end up working yourself to death. Did they even give you water to drink? Or breaks? Or Hell, a motherfucking chair to sit in?” 

    Timothy kept silent, knowing the answers to Freddie’s questions would make him more upset. Freddie shook his head and looked away, his fists clenched and his head-turning red. With his sharp yellow mohawk, he looked like a phoenix ready to tear into Kevin Thompson’s perfectly manicured face. 

    “Change requires sacrifices. If we want our political machine to change we have to be willing to put up with some unpleasantness.” He didn’t want to add the next part, but he was too exhausted and annoyed at Freddie to hold it in, “You don’t want real change. You dress like a thug and think the masses will come flocking to you. It’s pathetic.”

Timothy gazed at his boyfriend’s strong muscular back as it clenched up like a fist. He realized that he might have said the wrong thing, but at that point, he was exhausted and unwilling to put up with whatever huff Freddie got himself into. 

“At least I’m honest with who I am and what I want,” Freddie said in a quiet voice. He spun around and stared directly into Timothy’s eyes, making Timothy reflexively move away from him on the couch. 

“When I go outside with my dyed hair and leather jacket and I say and do whatever the fuck I want, I get to know that I do that on my terms. If people want to stare, call me a faggot, fine, fuck them I can take it. What I can’t do is hide in thirty different layers of respectability and delude myself into thinking that makes me better than everyone else.” 

Freddie got up from the couch and paced around the cramped living room, kicking furniture and clothes out of the way to make room. 

    Freddie couldn’t make sense of his boyfriend. When they had first met, Timmy had practically shoved his hand down his pants. It was at one of those seedy gay bars where the lighting was so bad it was hard to see even in the middle of the day. He didn’t remember what he had first said to Timmy, but soon they were making out in his van. Timmy’s warm, thick tongue sliding down the back of Freddie’s throat. 

    By the time he was able to peel himself away from Timmy’s mouth to drive them to his apartment, Timmy was half-naked, having shed most of his clothes in the car. Timmy tore off Freddie’s clothes as they struggled into the apartment, Timmy ripping them to shreds to get at him. When they collapsed on his bed, Timmy let out an ear-piercing roar as he let Freddie enter him. 

    “You like that baby,” Timmy cooed as he ground himself on Freddie’s dick and all Freddie could do was nod in awe at this sexy and intimidating presence that had ended up in his life. Timmy howled with an intensity Freddie had never heard in another man before. His kisses sucked the life from Freddie’s throat, leaving him gasping for air and begging for more. Timmy clawed at Freddie’s skin like a wild animal, the trickle of blood going down Freddie’s back and arms turning him on even more. During sex, Freddie swore that Timmy’s eyes blazed red as they deeply stared into his, making him think that he was high, dead, or fucking a demon.

When they finally finished it was the best orgasm Freddie had ever experienced in his life. Both Timmy and Freddie collapsed together in a heap on the bed, snuggling until Freddie lost consciousness. When he woke up, his blankets on the floor, bed torn apart, bong smashed to pieces, he found Timmy fidgeting with the broken stove in the kitchen. 

Freddie just wanted Timmy to be happy and he never saw him as carefree and as willing to enjoy himself than that first night they had sex. He knew that wild beast that lurked in Timothy’s heart was there, he just had no idea how to release it from the bedroom. 

He stopped pacing and looked at Timmy, almost passed out on the couch at this point. His dazed eyes staring at the ceiling with a sleepy smile on his face. Freddie knew that like most of their fights, they would end up snuggling on the couch before Timothy went to the bathroom and cried his heart out in the bathroom sink.

Freddie sighed, he knew of one way Timmy could be happy, but it came at a cost. 

Timmy noticed Freddie had started to stare at him and whimpered, “Babe, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m only trying to help people in my own way. I wish I could be like you, dressed in leather and punching cops in the face, but I just can’t.” 

Freddie shook his head and took Timmy’s hands in his. “Okay, I know of a guy who can help you. His name is Johnny Cocksucker. He’s a prophet of sorts in the queer punk scene.”

“Do I have to let him blow me or something?” Timothy asked.

“Just buy him a pack  of cigarettes and he’ll help you find what you need.”

Later that day, after Timothy had sobered up and had a good cry he walked over to the 7/11 parking lot Johnny Cocksucker hung around. In the lot, Timothy saw around three people sitting on the hood of someone’s truck. Two men and one woman dressed in leather with wild colored hair shared a bottle of liquor someone stored in a brown paper bag. 

Timothy wasn’t sure what to expect. Was Johnny going to give him some kinda pep talk or was this some weird initiation thing where Timmy would get beat up in an alley somewhere? Would Freddie do something like that to him?

He came to the three punks and waited until one of them noticed him. At first, they ignored him making Timothy stand there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Eventually, the girl noticed him and asked, “The fuck do you want?”

“Hi, I’m looking for a guy named Johnny Cocksucker. I was told he could help me.`` Timothy stammered. The three punks glaring at him made him feel like he was going to shit himself. 

Then one of the men smiled, “My name’s Johnny Cocksucker. You want a tarot reading or something more?” 

Timothy hesitated, he wasn’t sure what Freddie meant by Johnny helping him find himself, but Timothy trusted Freddie and he did want to know himself whatever that meant. So Timothy said, “I want something more. My boyfriend, Freddie, said you could help me find myself.”

“You got me a pack of smokes?” Johnny asked, leaning back on the truck hood. 

Timothy nodded, supplying a box of cigarettes from his sweatshirt pocket, “Marlboro, right?”

Johnny nodded, got off the truck, and swaggered over to Timothy. 

“Alright, sweetie. Let’s do this.” He took Timothy by the hand and him across the street into a dark alley. It was narrow and cold, but Timothy found himself getting turned on by Johnny. His dick got a little hard and if he wasn’t with Freddie he would have gladly given or received head from this man. 

Once they were out of earshot, Timothy started talking. “I got into a fight with Freddie and I know I’m not super great at communicating my feelings and I was kinda condescending to him, but I’m just not comfortable-”

Johnny put a finger to Timothy’s lips. “Honey, I’m not your fucking therapist. Do you want to know what you want or not?” 

Timothy nodded eagerly. 

Johnny lit a cigarette and blew some smoke in Timothy’s face. Timothy wheezed, but noticing Johnny’s eyes he suddenly stopped. Timothy felt rooted to the spot, Johnny’s brown eyes drawing all his attention.  

Johnny smiled, “you love him don’t you?”     “Yes.” Timothy replied, “I love him a lot.”  Timothy felt a strange heat coming from his dick, it prickled and burned.     “And you want to help people, instead of pussyfooting around with shitheads who don’t give a flying fuck about you?” Johnny Cocksucker asked, dangling the cigarette from his mouth as he pressed his hands on Timothy’s shoulders.     “I wouldn’t call it pussyfooting rather attempting to engage the electorate-”     “Do you want to help people or not?”     “Yes.” Timothy agreed again. Timothy’s erection pressed up against his pants, making it too painful to keep on. He undid his belt and dropped his pants to the floor with a deep moan. 

“That’s it, bitch. That’s it.” Johnny Cocksucker said, nodding at Timothy’s progress. Cocksucker continued, “And you want to live as yourself and not what everybody wants you to be?”

“Yes, please,” Timothy moaned, his dick was so hard he had to take his boxer briefs off, leaving his hard six-inch dick out in the breeze. 

 Cocksucker spit into his hands and rubbed them viciously before putting his hands on Timmy’s cock. His hands were calloused and hard but in a satisfying way. The odd bumps and dry skin against his dick only made Timothy harder. 

Cocksucker got on his knees and placed Timothy’s dick in his mouth, his soft lips massaging Timothy’s throbbing cock. With every thrust of Johnny's head on his cock, Timothy felt layers of himself getting peeled away. 

No more working with politicians, no more canvassing, stickers, and plastic straw boycotts. He would fight and do shit that helped people now, not maybe four years down the road. He would organize with Freddie and fight against police oppression. The rage that had been building inside of him his entire life was forcing its way through. He would no longer be held back by fear. 

Timothy growled and moaned as Johnny worked his magic on Timothy’s dick. Timothy’s fear and layers of respectability heading into his dick. As Timothy’s mind changed, so did his appearance. His lanky frame that served him well in avoiding public scrutiny was filling up with muscle. His button-up shirt was replaced with a ripped t-shirt and a leather jacket, his khaki pants and boxer briefs replaced with stained jeans and filthy red boxer shorts. Two solid black boots replaced his polished brown oxfords. 

His short blonde hair grew and became spiked, turning a dark shade of green. Black nail polish appeared on his fingernails and silver rings materialized on his two middle fingers. Then sharp pinpricks of pain stabbed through his ears, mouth, and nose making him let out a small scream. Piercings were ripping through Timothy’s flesh until his entire face was coated with them. With his new look and personality came a new name, Viper. It was a name that intimidated the right people, but for Freddie, it would always mean his thick now nine-inch dick. 

    He cummed in Cocksucker’s mouth. His old life and insecurities disappearing down Johnny Cocksucker’s throat.  

Needing to take a breath, Viper leaned his head against a brick wall. Johnny Cocksucker stood up and wiped his mouth.

“You good?” Johnny asked, taking out a cigarette. 

Viper nodded in a daze, “I have to find my boyfriend.” 

Johnny smiled and patted him on the shoulder. Viper stumbled a few steps forward when Johnny said, “Hey, pull your pants up. You got your dick hanging out.”

Viper looked down at his thick nine-inch dick hanging in the air and he chuckled. 

“Still a little fucked up, I guess,” Viper said, pulling up his pants and underwear. Then he staggered out of the alleyway, his dick still hard, as Johnny Cocksucker took out a cigarette and watched. “Freddie owes me big time for that shit,” Johnny said, lighting his cigarette. The taste of cum and Timmy’s fear still hanging in the back of his throat. 

Viper struggled to make his way to Freddie. He had an insatiable desire to fuck Freddie just the way he wanted. Rough and intense, like the time they first fucked, only this time Viper wasn’t going to freeze up every time after they had sex. It was going to be crazy and uninhibited the whole way. the way that he had never been fucked before. It felt like miles before Viper ended up outside an old theatre. In the haze of Viper’s mind, he knew that Freddie had a gig there tonight. 

That’s when he realized it was dark out. Had six hours passed that quickly? Then Viper watched as a bunch of roadies with band equipment were leaving the venue, including Freddie.

Freddie looked over and saw a man waiting for him. He didn’t know why, but he had the sudden feeling that the green-haired punk was his boyfriend.

He dropped what he was doing and ran over to him. Viper jumped up and wrapped his legs around Freddie’s waist kissing him on the mouth.

“I know Johnny did a number on you, but holy shit you’re hot,” Freddie said in-between kisses. 

“Can you faggots get off the sidewalk?” an old man screeched at them. 

Viper flipped the old fucker off and lost himself in Freddie’s passionate embrace. He would never take a straight person’s bullshit ever again. 

[sizzlingpenguincollector]

Fear Factor: Season 3: Episode 1: Part 1

I hope you all like this special version of Fear Factor Season 3 with all your favorite cartoon characters.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fear Factor Season 3: Animation Edition

Imagine a world where your greatest fears become reality. Welcome to Fear Factor. Each show, 6 characters from your favorite cartoons battle each other in three extreme stunts. These stunts are designed to challenge the characters both physically and mentally. If a contestant is too afraid to complete a stunt, they're eliminated. If they fail a stunt, they're eliminated. If they succeed, they move one step closer to the grand prize: $50,000. Six characters, three stunts, one winner. Fear Factor.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Episode 1: Counter Balance Beam; Weenie Roast; Swinging Rope Bridge

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The six characters walk towards their destination on a windy day in the San Fernando Valley. They have been brought here for one reason: Stare fear in the eye for a chance at $50,000.

Daphne Blake

Coolsville

Mystery Inc.

"Despite my so called pretty girl appearance," Daphne said. "I'm a fierce warrior. I take karate lessons. Once they realized they underestimated me, they're going to wish they didn't even met me. And if I win the money, I'm gonna give most of my winnings to my co workers because they've been good friends to me."

Timmy Turner

Dimmsdale

Average Kid who no one understands

"I'm a simple middle class kid," Timmy said. "I know I'm young, but I'm gonna use that to my advantage. I just hope I don't see any clowns on this show. That would be a line I do not want to cross."

Francine Smith

Langley Falls, Virginia

Housewife

"My husband happens to be a CIA agent," Francine said. "Years I spent living in the shadows of my house, not willing to take risks. I'm ready to prove to myself that I'm more than a housewife."

DJ

Canada

Total Drama Contestant

"Most people know me from Total Drama," DJ said. "I'm ready to shed my image of a simple soft guy. I'm also willing to finally overcome my anxieties for some real dough, dawg."

Nazz

Peach Creek

Cool Girl

"Most people think I'm a simple minded blonde," Jazz said. "But I'm much more than that. If I win the $50,000 dollars, I'm gonna throw the most rad party ever! How cool would that be?"

Todd

Pleasant Hills

Average Kid

"I guess I'm kind of the underdog," Todd said. "But I can use it to my advantage. After all, everyone loves a underdog. It's great confidence for people. When I win the money, I plan to buy out Fleem Co."

They then saw the host, Joe Rogan waiting for them. He smiled as he saw the contestants. "What's up? What's up?"

"Hey Joe!" Timmy, Nazz, DJ, and Todd greeted.

"Hi Joe." Daphne and Francine greeted. Joe then started the usual introduction.

"You six people have been brought here from all over the country for one reason: To stare fear in the eye as you compete for $50,000. Now to win the money you're gonna have to complete 3 extreme stunts. Stunts that will not only test you physically, but mentally as well. If you're too afraid to attempt a stunt, you're be eliminated. Try a stunt and fail to complete it, you're gone. However, if you do succeed, you'll move on to the next round and be that much closer to $50,000."

Now that the rules have been explained, it's time to play. "Alright, here's your first stunt." Joe then pointed to a platform that's hanging high above a dusty cliff. "Hanging over 100 feet in the air is an 8x24 foot platform that'll rock back and forth as you move. When I say go, you'll try to collect as many flags as possible while trying to maintain your balance and keep from falling off the platform. The two men and the two women who collects the most flags the fastest will move onto the next round. We have randomly selected today's order and DJ, you're lucky number one."

DJ's eyes went wide as he realized he was picked first. He was afraid of heights, but he was willing to do the stunt anyway. "Ready man?" Joe asked him.

"Yeah dawg." DJ said.

"Alright let's go." Joe walked with DJ to get him ready. While they were away, the other contestants got to know each other better.

"So, how do you think DJ's going to do?" Timmy asked.

"He looks tough. I think he'll do fine." Nazz replied.

Francine shook her head. "I think he's going to fall. Then you're all going to fall, and I'm taking the money for myself!" She said with her best ego voice.

Daphne smirked at Francine. "Is that how you wanna play it? With trash talk?" Francine nodded. "That went out of style with that shade of blonde in your hair a few year ago."

Francine frowned as the other players, except Nazz, snickered. "What's with the mood?"

Todd then approached Nazz. "So, you wanna get a soda right after the show?"

Nazz giggled. "You're so cute..."

As Nazz walked away, Timmy stood next to Todd. "She wants me."

"Yeah. I can tell." Timmy said sarcastically.

At the platform, Joe decided to make small talk with DJ. "So, DJ the nice guy from Total Drama. This is a big step."

"Yeah. I get a little tired of being recognized from it though. I hear you and Chris McClean were friends."

"Yeah. We actually went to the same college together. I actually gave him the idea for the Phobia Factor and Brunch of Disgusting challenges. So, what do you plan to do with the money when you win?"

"I'm gonna give most of it to my mama." DJ replied.

"Aw...That's nice. Remember. You're setting the bar. So, good luck." Joe then left.

"Hey momma!" DJ said to the camera. "About to win you 50 G's!"

Joe then approached the others. "You guys rooting on DJ to win?"

"Yeah. He looks tough." Nazz said with a smile.

"He's gonna fall!" Todd said.

"Come on. He's a nice guy." Nazz said.

"Yeah. Well, nice doesn't pay to win, Carrot Top!" Francine said. Daphne gasped.

"Like you're one to talk...Blondie!" Daphne shot back. Francine gasped.

"Looks like we have a cat fight in the making." Joe said playfully.

They then watched the platform rise with DJ on it. "OK DJ, I'm gonna ask you to stand up!" Joe called out. DJ did just that. He then started turning white as he saw how high he was. "You ready DJ?" DJ nodded. He was scared, but he had no choice. "Here we go! In 3, 2, 1...Go!"

With that, DJ got to his knees and started moving slowly as the platform started swaying. It was windy, making it hard for him to focus. He got the first three flags, but then started feeling himself slip when he got the fourth and fifth flags. "No! Mama!" DJ screamed as he thought he was going to die. Once the safety rope caught him, DJ breathed a sigh of relief. "Man. Five measly flags."

He then made his way back down and joined Joe and the others. "DJ. What happened? You only got five flags." Joe said.

"It's probably because of the wind. It makes it really hard for you to concentrate when it's blowing in your face." DJ explained.

"Well alright. You got 5 flags in 16 seconds. Let's see if that holds up. Timmy, you're next. You ready?"

"I'm ready man." Timmy replied.

"Alright. Let's go." Joe walked with Timmy.

"Good luck!" Nazz called out. She then looked at DJ. "You did a nice job."

DJ smiled. "Thanks."

"Please! You're nothing but a simple cream puff!" Francine said.

"Well, Mega Bitch Godzilla is on the loose!" Daphne shot back.

Francine grew furious. "You take that back!"

"Nope. It's already out there."

Joe then stood with Timmy next to the platform. "So Timmy, you learned anything from watching DJ?"

"Yeah. Don't get on your knees. Just do a little squat."

"Good technique. What do you plan to do with the money if you win?"

"I'm gonna buy a whole lot of video game systems."

"Good. That's typical for a ten year old boy. Now how many flags you think you'll get?"

"8 in 12." Timmy said with confidence.

"8 in 12. Good estimate. Well, good luck." Joe walked back to the others as Timmy got prepped. The platform rose again with Timmy on it. "Alright Timmy, I'm gonna ask you to stand up!" Timmy did just that. "You ready?!" Timmy nodded. "Alright remember, you have to beat 5 in 16 seconds! You do that, you are in tomorrow! In three, two, one...go!"

Timmy then got into position and started collecting the flags. "One...Two...Three...Four..." He was able to get seven before falling off. He then made his way down and back to Joe and the others.

"Timmy. Nice job! 7 flags in 14 seconds." Joe commented.

"Hey. It was almost a piece of cake." Timmy said.

"Alright. Todd, all you have to do is beat 5 in 16, and DJ goes home. Ready?"

"Yeah! Let's do it." Todd said.

"Alright." Joe then walked with Todd.

"Man little dude, I underestimated you." DJ said with a smile.

"Thanks. I did the best I could."

"Yeah little dude. That was so rad." Nazz said.

Joe stood with Todd next to the platform. "Alright Todd, tell me about yourself."

"Well, I have a older sister, a dad who's a daredevil."

"A daredevil dad like Evel Kenevil? That's cool. Let guess, you also have a spy mom?"

"Actually yes. How did you guess?" Todd asked surprised.

"Just took a crack. So, give me your best estimate."

"Eight in 10. Easy."

"Eight in 10. Great. Well, good luck buddy." Joe then walked back with the others. Todd then sat on the platform as it rose high into the air. "Alright Todd, I'm gonna ask you to stand up!" Todd did just that. "Alright Todd, you ready?" Todd nodded. "Alright. Here we go, in three, two, one...go!" Todd then got onto his knees and started collecting flags. But, he was only able to get five before sliding off.

"Man! Five flags! Dang it!" Todd complained. He then made his way down and back to the others.

"Cheer up little dude." Nazz said.

"Alright Todd. You got five flags. You're tied with DJ." Todd frowned, as he and DJ thought the verdict was clear. "But, you got them in 14 seconds." Todd smiled. He was moving on to tomorrow. "DJ. I'm sorry. It was nice having you here, but we got to send you packing."

"It's cool man." DJ said with a sad smile. "It was fun."

"Alright. Take it easy." Joe said as DJ walked the walk of shame.

"Bye DJ." Nazz waved off.

"I guess I still have to overcome some of my anxieties. I'm really disappointed that I didn't get far though. I just hope my mama doesn't get pissed at me." DJ said.

Joe then walked with Nazz to the platform. "Nazz, how are you feeling?"

"Totally pumped, dude!"

"Good to know. Anyone special you doing this for?"

"My sweetheart Kevin."

"Aww. That's nice. Listen, you're the first girl. So you got to set that bar. You got that?"

"Yep."

"Alright. Good luck." Joe then walked back to the others.

"Man, Nazz is cool." Todd said dreamily.

"Please! She's so not into you." Timmy said.

"What? You want her?"

"No. I already got a girl of my own back at home."

Nazz then got onto the platform as it started to rise. "Alright Nazz, stand up!" Joe called out. Nazz did just that. "Alright, are you ready?!"

"Totally!"

"Alright! Remember, you're the first girl! So set that bar high! In three, two, one...go!" With that, Nazz got onto her knees and collected as many flags as she could. After she got the fifth flag, she slipped and fell off. "Five in 18 seconds!"

"I'm so gonna beat that!" Daphne said.

"Well then, have fun falling, red head!" Francine smirked.

"You say one more insult, and I'll smack you!"

Nazz then made her way back to Joe and the others. "Nazz! Very impressive. 5 in 18. How was it?"

"Well, it was a lot like DJ said. Very windy. But, I did the best I could."

"Well, let's just hope that holds up. Daphne, you ready?"

"Yes Joe. I am."

"Alright. Let's get you prepped." Joe then walked with Daphne. "So Daphne, I heard you and Francine talking a lot of trash talk to each other."

"I just don't want her to win." Daphne admitted.

"I totally understand that. So, other than the money, what's your motivation for doing this show?"

"My friends at Mystery Inc. Even Shaggy and Scooby."

"Well, that's nice. Good luck."

"I hope that girl falls hard." Francine said.

"What's your deal?" Nazz asked, confused by her behavior. The platform then rose with Daphne right on it.

"OK Daphne, stand up!" Joe called out. Daphne did just that. "OK. You ready?"

"I'm ready!"

"Alright! You have to collect five in 17 seconds! You do that, you are in! Here we go! In three, two, one...go!" With that, Daphne got onto her knees and started collecting as many flags as she could.

"Fall now!" Francine called out, trying to throw Daphne off her balance. To Francine's shock, Daphne moved quickly and got 8 flags before falling.

"Nice job, Daphne!" Joe called out.

"How many I got?!"

"8 in just 9 seconds! You not only collected the most, but you got the fastest time! Congratulations! You are in!"

Daphne made her way back down and to Joe and the others. "Wow! That was so awesome!" Nazz said.

"Thanks. Let's see you beat that...Blondie!" Daphne smirked.

"Knock off, bitch!" Francine shot back.

"Alright Francine, come with me." Joe then walked with Francine. Francine was nervous. She had to collect the most flags or she was going home.

Francine decided to skip talking with Joe in order to get focused. She sat on the platform as it rose. "Alright Francine, stand up!" Joe called out. Francine did just that. "OK, are you ready?!"

"Just count me down!" Francine said.

"Alright. Remember, you have to get 5 flags in 17 seconds, or you are going home. In three, two, one...go!" With that, Francine moved slowly and grabbed the first and second flags. The wind really made it hard for her to concentrate. She was wasting a lot of time. She only got to the fifth flag before falling off. Francine knew she lost. "You know what?! F*** this! And f*** everyone of you!"

"She got 5 flags, but she got them in 25 seconds! Nazz, you are moving on!"

Nazz cheered and hugged Daphne. We now had four players who were closer to $50,000.

"Well, congratulations everyone. You are all moving on. Let's get out of here and see what tomorrow has in store for you."

"Let's move it!" Timmy announced. With that, the four contestants started walking away, to get some rest for tomorrow's stunt.

Stay tuned for the second stunt

[wxndxrsirxnswritxarchive-blog]

Second Choice

pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

warnings: angst? I think. A few swear words and mentions of suicide and bullying.

prompt:  ‘I don’t deserve to be anyone's second choice’ 

a/n: For the purpose of this imagine Tim is eighteen. I tried to keep this as general neutral as possible, but I may have slipped up a couple of times.

“I’m going to Metropolis.” [Y/N] looked up to Bruce, who was looking at them with a questioning gaze and a raised eye brow simple because they had come to see him and not Tim, who had, until that moment, presumed to be [Y/N]’s best friend. 

Nodding his head, Bruce sat forward in his chair, his hands clasping together as he leaned on his elbows, “Do you want me to tell Tim?” [Y/N] shook their head and looked towards the ground momentarily before returning her gaze to Bruce, who looked quite shocked.

“No. I’m telling you because you’re my leader and this is my formal retirement, for now. You need to know.” Bruce let out a sigh before he continued.

“Okay, any particular reason you’re doing this?” 

“I’m doing it for myself.” 

As they stood in their now empty apartment, [Y/N] held their phone in their hand and stared down at the images they had captured that helped them make up their minds and they thought back to how they decided to leave. 

“I have a girlfriend.” Raising an eyebrow at their best friend,[Y/N] let out a chuckle and smiled at Tim, ignoring the pain in their chest that came with the statement. 

“Finally. I was beginning to worry.” Tim rolled his eyes and playfully stuck his tongue out at the girl. “Very funny. It’s Maria.” 

[Y/N] recognized the name, she believed the three of them were in the some of the same classes in Gotham Academy, and they remembered that Maria wasn’t their biggest fan in the world. 

“Maria?” Tim nodded and looked at the girl, “Are you okay with that?” Scoffing slightly, [Y/N] rolled their eyes and gave Tim a look of disbelief, “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” But they could feel their heart breaking with every word. 

That seemed to be the beginning of the end for their friendship and [Y/N] wondered what would have happened if she had said that she was okay with it. Would it have ended the relationship between Tim and Maria or would their friendship with Tim have crumbled all the more quickly? 

As they sat on the floor of lounge in Wayne Manor with their legs crossed and their faces contorted in concentration while their hands frantically moved against the controllers they were holding in order to beat the other, the sound of a feminine voice broke Tim’s concentration allowed [Y/N] to gain control and beat him. 

But the voice also sent a shiver down [Y/N]’s spine as she looked to see Maria standing there, an innocent look on her face as she looked at the two friends playing video games.

“Maria!” Tim’s voice was happy, happier than when he was with [Y/N] and they noticed it, and so had Maria as her innocent smile turned into a smug one as Tim got up and wrapped his arms around her tightly. 

[Y/N] could already feel a knot forming in their throat, and the nerves bubble in their stomach, which they couldn’t understand because they had taken on things much scarier than Maria. As Tim pulled away, Maria’s smug look turned into her previous innocent one, paired with a sickeningly sweet smile. Tim now turned to face [Y/N], a bashful look on his face, “I invited her, you okay with that?”

No. I am not okay with that, this is our night. The one designated night we have together where we don’t have to worry about goons and beating up thugs, was what [Y/N] wanted to say, but they didn’t. “Yeah. The more the merrier.” 

Tim’s face broke out into a grin, “Great. I’m going to get more snacks and some more movie options. Be back in a few.” Both [Y/N] and Maria nodded as Tim exited the room and [Y/N] moved to remove the game disk from the console so they could play a movie, only they stopped as they heard Maria speak.  

“I know what you’re doing.” With a raised eyebrow, [Y/N] turned to Maria, “Excuse me?”

Scoffing, Maria glared at them and smirked, “I.Know. What. You’re. Doing.” Rolling her eyes, [Y/N] decided to humor her, “And what exactly am I doing Maria? Because currently, I’m trying to take the game out of the conosole”

Now Maria rolled her eyes as [Y/N] took the game out and placed it into its case,”Well, just know that he had a girlfriend now and would never be interested in someone as ugly, stupid, and talentless as you.”

With a scoff and a look of disbelief, [Y/N] turned to Maria and stood with their arms crossed over their chest, “What did you just say about me?” Maria shrugged lightly and pursed her lips as she regarded [Y/N].

“You heard me. You’re a talentless, stupid, ugly, worthless pig who should jump off the top of Wayne Enterprises.” With wide eyes and a look of both shock and disbelief in her eyes, [Y/N] nodded lightly. “Okay then.” Just then Tim walked in and [Y/N] turned to him, watching Maria from her peripheral.

“I’m sorry Tim. There’s an emergency, I have to go.” She saw Maria smirk and fake innocence as [Y/N] grabbed her coat and bag before she left Maria and Tim behind in Wayne Manor. 

That was just the beginning of Maria invading their time, in the final days of school, Maria was always around out of class and when Tim wasn’t around she was throwing insults and making passive aggressive comments at [Y/N] and any time [Y/N] would have had with Tim outside of school was taken up by Maria and Tim only invited Them out as an after thought and routinely cancelled their plans because Maria needed him or Maria wanted to do something. She started always coming in second next to her. 

What really hurt though was the fact that Maria faked innocence and ended up with [Y/N]’s phone number and social media accounts,where she hurled abuse at her without the fear of being reprimanded and without the fear that Tim was going to find out because she knew that [Y/N] was so in love with Tim that they wouldn’t put his happiness in jeopardy and that made them the perfect victim.

But they did.

It was summer, high school was over and in the fall Tim and [Y/N] would be off to university and so their time together now was precious, well it would have been if it hadn’t been for Maria. It seemed the two could never be alone and so, one night after patrol, [Y/N] got Time alone and turned off their comms so she could talk to him about Maria and what she was doing. But Tim was having none of it.

“I knew this was coming.” He paced up and down, stopping occasionally to glare at [Y/N], “Maria told me what you did. Calling her a slut and a whore and cyber bullying her.” With wide eyes,[Y/N] looked at Time with shock and hurt that he would believe his three-month girlfriend over his best friend and partner. “I know you don’t like her but this is just low.” Stopping now, he turned to the girl and glared, his eyes filled with hatred, “I was trying to give you the benefit because you are, no were, my best friend. But this is the last straw. We’re over.” 

And that was that. That was the end of Red Robin and [Y/H/N], the end of Tim and [Y/N] and it broke her heart and she knew she had to get away. She knew she had to leave and so she took the place at Metropolis University for pre-med and chemistry. 

With her phone in her hand, she clicked send. All the screenshots of what Maria had done and sent going through one by one and the surveillance videos from the first day in Wayne manor being sent last. At least now he would know the truth.  Turning her off and placing it  on top of the letter she had left for him, [Y/N] left her apartment

Tim was sitting in Wayne Manor, his arms wrapped around Maria as they watched the Princess Bride for the 100th time that Summer. He was peaceful and he was happy, well he tried to convince himself that he was happy but there was a piece of him missing and he knew it. As he looked at the table, he saw his phone lighting and message after message coming through, he raised an eyebrow and let out a sigh. It must have been important.

“Babe...” Maria looked up to Tim, “I’m going to get a drink. You want anything?” Maria shook her head and moved so that Tim could get up, he lifted his phone and cup as he walked into the kitchen, the first image loading on the screen as placed his cup on the counter and raised an eyebrow. It was a screenshot of a text to [Y/N], from Maria.

‘I told you he’d never want anyone like you’

‘Honestly. You lead such an unfulfilling life that you should just jump of a bridge.’

He couldn’t read any more of that one, so he moved on to the next message, another screenshot, only this time from Instagram and it was a message from Maria’s account.

‘Trying to be body confident? Don’t even bother. No point when you look like a pig.’

Tim was shocked, Maria had told him that [Y/N] was sending theses messages to her, and he believed her. As he scrolled through the images he started to feel sick, [Y/N] had been going through this abuse for months and didn’t tell him and then he blamed it all one them.  He felt sick and then he felt angry, especially as the video loaded and he saw the beginning of it all and what really happened. 

“Timmy?” Maria’s voice pulled Tim out of his own mind and he turned to glare at her, “Don’t call me that.” Maria jumped back slightly at how harsh his voice was.

“Tim, baby, what’s wrong?” Maria’s voice was sweet, and Tim finally noticed the fakeness behind it. “God. I am so stupid.” Marai raised an eyebrow and tried to approach Tim, but he held a hand out to stop her.”Don’t.” 

Stepping back, Maria looked at Time with tears in her eyes. “It's this about [Y/N] again? I told you what she did, why are you turning against me?”

Tim let out a dry laugh and rolled his eyes, “Stop playing the innocent card. I have the screenshots. You are a lying, bitch.” Stepping over to Maria, he squared his shoulders, “Stay the fuck away from me and get the fuck out of my house.”

“But Tim...I love you.” Maria cried, reaching for him but Tim slapped her hand away from him. “I don’t give a shit. Get out.” With that, Maria turned on her heels and ran out of the house. 

“Dammit.” Tim slammed his fist into the counter, he felt his fingers crunch and crack but he didn’t care. He had to fix this. He had to see [Y/N]. 

It took Tim 30 minutes to compose himself and now he stood outside [Y/N]’s apartment door with her hand hovering as he hesitated to knock.  “You can do this Tim.” With a deep breath, he brought his knuckles down onto the wood of the door a few times and then he waited. 

He waited, but there was no answer, so he tried the handle and when he realized it was unlocked he put his guard up and entered the apartment to see it was empty but for a box with a letter and a phone on top. Walking towards it, his guard still up, he realized it was [Y/N]’s phone and that the letter was addressed to him. 

Carefully, he opened it and he let his eyes scan over every word very carefully.

Tim.

By the time you get this, I will already be gone and no, you can't stop me from leaving and I'm not telling you where I'm going. I realized in these past few months that I am your second choice. The fact that I even had to do this proves of that. And so, I am leaving to let you be happy and to be with someone you can always put first.

 I love you, Tim Drake, I have loved you since we were thirteen. But I do not deserve to be anyone's second choice I'm sorry. I hope to see you again one day.

[Y/N]

[yoramkelmer]

Hogwarts Overexposed Chapter 1: The Streets of Fort Lauderdale

Welcome back! 

So now we have finally arrived to the day that I have been longing for, ever since I started sporking the Saga back in September 2016, 3 years ago...we have now arrived at the third fic, which happens to be my favourite of the Saga, as there is so much meat that needs to be adressed, so much fail...

This fic, among other things, features more stupid plotlines that go absolutely nowhere, giant spiders that explode by Sue powers, more pointless crying, designated love interests, and to crown it all, a very shitty Jurassic Park rip off. 

The subtitle of the fic is “Salazars return”, a thing foreshadowed way back in the first fic (in which Jamie sees Salazar during DADA, facing her worst fear - this is never adressed again afterwards), and outrightly announced in the last fic with the terrible written prophecy that Emily comes out with. 

As mentioned in the last sporking, the whole “resurrecting Salazar Slytherin” is - despite being stolen from the Draco Trilogy - an actually somewhat interesting plot, but of course we won´t see that much of it, instead we again are faced with terrible soap opera situations. 

Well, let´s dive right in:

Friday, August 5, 2005 “They look like they’re having a great time,” Jamie said, watching enviously from the window in the staff tower as the Giant Squid tossed the girls ten to fifteen feet in the air and then ate them as they fell down permitted them to splash back down into the lake before scooping them up and repeating the process. “Why don’t you go join them, Jamie?” Hermione suggested. “It’s not like we have that much packing to do.” “I’d love to except I haven’t written to Alex today, and we pledged to owl each other every day, because we otherwise would cease to exist if we don´t constantly remind us with the fact that we are a couple” Jamie answered. 

Jamie and Alex would be starting their seventh and final year at Hogwarts in the autumn and had been best friends since their first year. Last year they had finally acknowledged that the feelings they shared for each other went far beyond friendship. Both Alex and Jamie planned to train as Aurors after they completed Hogwarts and then, in due course marry. 

Again, what is it that is so special about their relationship? Nothing has ever been shown to us why they are so perfect for each other, not to mention that Alex has absolutely no personality outside of being Jamie Sues love interest. In fact, Dick Bancroft has more chemistry with Jamie, and that is saying a lot!  When Jamie’s parents died during her fifth year, she had thought that life, as she knew it, would come to a crashing halt. Jamie envisioned saying good-bye to Hogwarts and having to seek some sort of menial employment in order to support herself and her then ten-year-old sister, Emily. 

I actually don´t know why we all of a sudden are faced with a recap of things we already know.  Professor Granger, who had been a mentor to Jamie, refused to think about this alternative. Since the girls had no living relatives, she and her fiancé, Harry Potter, insisted on caring for Jamie as a sister and becoming guardians to Emily. Harry and Hermione did this without hesitation despite Hermione having previously adopted Caitlin, a then eleven-year-old girl 12, actually, also because her age is going to be important the next fic who had been orphaned and abused. And so Harry Potter, now at the ripe old age of twenty-five and married for only slightly over a year, finds himself the father of three children: Caitlin, who would soon turn thirteen fourteen, as she turns 15 in the next fic and start her third year at Hogwarts; Emily, now twelve and entering her second year; and Suespawn Benjamin, Hermione and Harry’s newborn son, just over two months old. “Harry, will we be able to Portkey all the way to Fort Lauderdale or will we have to do it in phases because of the distance involved?” Jamie inquired as Harry entered the room, ready to kiss her arse. “That is the one advantage a Portkey has over Apparating,” he answered. “There is no limit to the distance you can travel. Our group is rather large, however, and so I’ve arranged for three Portkeys.” 

What could possibly go wrong?  “Three? Why so many? And what about Timmy and Ben?” Jamie inquired. “Timmy is rather young to understand he must hold onto the Portkey and Ben, well he just can’t.” Timmy is the four-year-old son of Samantha Bowman, an American Sue witch. Sam had originally come to England searching for Timmy’s birth father but, after a year of no leads, had given up and settled in Hogsmeade where she met and fell in love with Ron Weasley, who suffers from lycanthropy. He had just been released from Azkaban and, at the time, was working in a joke shop owned by his twin brothers, Fred and George. It was at Harry and Hermione’s wedding that Samantha and her son were initially observed by Timmy’s birth father, none other than Draco Malfoy. Draco made a legal attempt to gain custody of his son, but upon failing, begrudgingly accepted the state of affairs and his current role in his son’s life. 

Maybe it is a good thing that we never actually see any of the moments between Timmy and Draco.  “I secured three Portkeys mainly because of Ben and Timmy,” Harry explained. “Traveling by Portkey can be rather rough treatment, especially with a large number of people thrashing their limbs about. I propose that you girls use one Portkey. That will allow Hermione and me to secure Ben between us and the Weasley’s to do the same with Timmy.” “But will all three Porkeys have the same coordinates?” “Yes,” Harry said assuredly. “The only drawbacks are that we have to allow ten minutes between departures, and that we will be arriving in an area that none of us are familiar with. But I’m sure everything will go well.” 

Again, what could possibly go wrong? Also, fooooreeeeshadowing. 

* * * * * *

“I’m tired,” Kim whimpered, “Can we get out of the water for a bit and take a break?” “I’m rather exhausted myself,” Caitlin agreed. “You two are worse than two old ladies,” Emily complained, but she conceded and headed for the shore. “I wish we could shrink Elmo and take him on holiday with us,” she said glancing back at the Giant Squid. 

Yeah, and I´m now totally imagining the Giant Squid with the head of Elmo.  “I’m sure that would go over spectacularly with the other ship passengers,” Caitlin said sarcastically. “Somehow I don’t think they would take kindheartedly to a giant squid in one of the ship’s swimming pools.” “Nah! I guess not,” Emily said sadly. “I’m going to miss him though while we’re away.” “I’ve never been on a cruise ship before,” Kim said excitedly. “I’m so glad your parents invited me to go along.” 

And believe me, we are going to spend a lot of time on the cruise ship, even more time than the nudist resort last fic. 

Anyway, Caitlin and Emily get Kim to walk to Hogsmeade for icecream semi naked, while they themselves are under that charm again. 

The main reason why Emily wants to go to Hogsmeade is because she has the hots for Roger Fortescue, the guy running the shop - HE IS TWENTY WHILE SHE IS TWELVE, AND THEIR FEELINGS ARE MUTUAL WHILE NEIL PORTRAYS THEIR RELATIONSHIP AS A GOOD THING. 

Also, suddenly more recap of things we already know in the middle of everything:

Both Emily and Caitlin are naturalists and preferred to be unclothed whenever possible. Jamie and Emily’s parents were nudists and they raised their daughters in the naturists’ ways. Both girls feel extremely uncomfortable when clothed and would much prefer to always be naked even if others about them are clothed. They don’t see being unclothed as wicked or sexy, but rather as natural and comfortable. Jamie befriended Caitlin when she first started Hogwarts, and was the first real friend and positive role model Caitlin had ever had. It was by accident that the young girl discovered Jamie was a naturist. Caitlin was so impressed by Jamie and her explanation of her lifestyle that she was tempted to try it. She became an immediate convert. 

This makes no sense. 

Kim is a most unenthusiastic nudist. This is an understatement - she is completely forced to it by the other Sues! In order to avoid lingering embarrassment from a cruel prank on the Hogwarts Express in her first year, she had all her cartoon-imprinted underclothes destroyed ´destroyed´ - this sounds like Emily did a Crucio or Avada Kedavra on them. This caused her dorm mates to mistakenly assume that she, like Emily, was a nudist. She now uncomfortably lives that lie. Why though? She has actually become at ease being naked with Caitlin, Emily and their family. The cruise, on the other hand, will be her first experience at public nudity, and she is exceedingly apprehensive. 

And all of a sudden, this:

They had only gone a few hundred feet past the gate, when Caitlin came to a sudden stop. “Did you feel that,” she cried nervously. Kim looked at her questioningly. “Feel what?” she asked, a bewildered look on her face. “I didn’t feel anything.” “I did,” Emily piped up. “It felt as though something hot was trickling down my back. Kim, remember when Professor Flitwick demonstrated the Disillusionment Charm on us last Christmas, the charm that made us blend in with the decorations. It felt exactly the same as when he lifted it.” 

Of course this is an indication of that the modesty charm won´t work later - but what makes this pointless is the fact that it is never brought up again or explained who was behind this. 

They then gush over the fact how fast the ice cream shop was built:

“Wizard contractors take some short cuts not available to Muggle builders,” Emily added. “Yeah!” Kim said. “One might call it magic!” They all chuckled.

This is actually funny, as the Sues on several occasions throughout the fic COMPLETELY FORGET MAGIC, especially a crucial scene in the second half of the fic comes to mind. 

And for the sake of it, this is how I´m envisioning Roger Fortescue:

And the next section...well, I´ll leave that unsporked:

“Well, what have we here?” the clerk behind the counter asked. It was undoubtedly a rare sight to have three towel-clad girls enter his establishment. Although he had addressed all three girls, his eyes only inspected Emily. “Did you girls just get out of the shower?” “No silly,” said Emily dreamily. “We were swimming and had the urge for some ice cream. This is my good friend Kim. She is going on holiday with Caitlin and I.” Roger gave Kim a smile of recognition, but quickly turned his attention back to Emily. “I’d say Kim was extremely fortunate. I would really enjoy being on vacation with you for a week.” At this comment, Emily blushed, but Kim and Caitlin exchanged uneasy glances. This smooth talking git might entrance Emily, but, although she didn’t know why, Kim had taken an immediate dislike to Roger. “I was hoping perhaps you had come to visit me,” Roger said suggestively. “But since you prefer ice cream, what can I get you?” Emily seemed content to stare at Roger; therefore, Kim decided to place her order. “Could I have a small cone of chocolate, please?” “I’ll have a small cone also,” said Caitlin, “but make mine vanilla, please.” “And what about you, beautiful,” Roger said. “Could I have one of those swirl mixes of both kinds?” Emily asked sweetly. Roger purposely served Caitlin and Kim first. The girls sat down at one of the many empty tables as Emily waited to be served and pay. As Roger handed Emily her cone he got a mischievous grin on his face. “Do you know what they say about people who get mixed ice cream?” Emily shook her head, no. “They say they go both ways.” Emily blushed a deep shade of red, but made no comment. Instead she asked, “How much is the total bill?” ”That depends,” Roger said devilishly. “Perhaps we could work out an agreement that would be both easy on your pocket and easy on my eyes.” “What do you mean?” Emily asked innocently, not understanding. “I envisage you looking quite nice in your swim costume,” he said, licking his lips. “If you drop the towel and model it for me; all three cones are on the house.” Emily licked her ice cream, both to prevent it running down the cone and to give her time to think. Her bathing costume was rather skimpy and dropping her towel and modeling seemed like a rather sexual thing to do. On the other hand, she was a naturist. If the world were fair, she’d be happily standing here completely nude at the present time. Besides, she’d sort of like Roger to see her in her bathing costume and free ice cream in the bargain sounded like a great deal. Emily looked around the room. There were only six other patrons in the shop; four pre-teen boys at a table near the rear and a young couple near the window. This felt so weird. She had absolutely no qualms with the entire world seeing her naked. She had even walked naked to the grocery when she was ten, yet modeling a bathing costume in an ice cream store somehow seemed wrong. “I’d really love to see how nice you look,” Roger said entreatingly. Her decision was made. “Would you hold my ice cream?” she asked passing the cone back to Roger. “Now don’t snicker. I’m only twelve and with a bit of luck my figure will develop considerably more.” “I’d never laugh at you, besides I think you have an excellent figure,” Roger said. “Okay, here goes,” Emily said, stepping back from the counter. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was as she undid the towel and in order to avoid seeing Roger’s expression stared anxiously up at the ceiling. As she felt the towel brush her body on its way to the floor, she began turning slowing, allowing Roger plenty of time to scrutinize her before finally looking him in the eyes and saying, “Well, what do you think?” Roger had dropped Emily’s ice cream on the floor. The young girl that was sitting near the window had grabbed her spellbound boyfriend and dragged him from the shop as the four young boys at the rear went wild. Caitlin and Kim, who had been absorbed in conversation and paying little attention to Emily, jumped to their feet. “What happen to your swim costume!?” Kim asked in a panic as Caitlin ran to pick up Emily’s towel and toss it to her. It was only when Kim asked what had become of her costume that Emily realized that she was indeed standing there starkers. “Roger, I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry if I made you ill at ease you. Somehow the concealment charm that covered me was canceled.” She started to wrap the towel around herself. “I’m not embarrassed,” Roger said, not taking his eyes off Emily, “and you shouldn’t be either. You’re splendid.” “I’m not embarrassed,” Emily said, letting the towel slip off and into her hand. “Do you really think I look nice?” Roger corrected her. “I’d say fabulous. Nothing would please me more than to have you spend the balance of the day in my shop just as you are.” “Maybe that could be arranged,” Emily said boldly. “I don’t think so!” Caitlin said, giving Emily an appalled look. “We have to go! Emily, please cover up!” When Emily made no effort to do so, Caitlin grabbed her arm. “Suit yourself,” she said with frustration. “Kim, please help me.” Before Emily realized what was happening, Caitlin and Kim had dragged her out the door and on to the thankfully deserted street. “Now will you put that towel on?” Caitlin asked. “Why?” Emily answered defiantly. “There is no one about, and I’m quite comfortable like this.” Emily tossed the towel to Kim and started boldly walking away from the shop and in the direction of the path that would return them to Hogwarts. 

Well, as you can see, Roger is a perv and Emily loves to be starkers in front of other people. And Rogers relationship to Emily is as mentioned earlier, treated as noble. Barf. 

And the charm was lifted, of course. 

On their way back to the castle they meet up with Trilogy!Draco and “Virginia” Weasley who wishes she could be as nude as the girls. 

The sections ends up with this:

“I don’t think Elmo cares if or how we dress,” Emily answered casually, and then added. “Mum likes us to use the concealment charm, but it’s really not necessary anymore on the school grounds. Most of the staff has seen at least one of us nude. It’s really no big deal any longer.” ‘Maybe not to you’, Kim thought and then turned toward the castle and said, “let’s go.” 

This is never picked up on. 

Sunday, August 7, 2005 “Ron, will you please cheer up,” Sam said with annoyance, as she and Ron finished packing. “We’re starting our vacation tomorrow, not going to a funeral.” “That’s easy for you to say,” Ron groaned. “If I had your body, I wouldn’t be concerned with being seen nude either.” “If you had my body, I doubt we’d be married,” Sam said with a laugh. 

Yeah, the Ron-bashing gets worse with each chapter.  “It’s not funny,” Ron moaned. “You know what I mean. I feel like I’m the king of the string bean geeks going on vacation with the Perfect Body Club.” “We don’t all have perfect bodies,” Samantha insisted. “Well, maybe Jamie and Hermione do, because they are Sues, like me!. Hermione is going to have men losing concentration and falling overboard.” “Perhaps you haven’t looked at yourself in a mirror lately,” Ron commented, “but you should put yourself in the same category.” “You’re sweet,” Sam said brushing against him as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “And that’s another problem,” he said, looking down at a specific part of himself. “It’s totally out of control. It’s ready for action and you barely touched me. If it were the day before a full moon, that’s to be expected, but the next full moon is a ways off. I think I’m turning into some sort of sex manic. Emily and Caitlin caused a reaction the other night and they’re little girls.” 

This is the author handwaving “I´m not a pedo!” “They aren’t that little anymore,” Sam declared. “Their bodies are becoming more womanly every day. Besides, I don’t think that even calm, cool Harry could have handled what happened to you.” 

Why does this sound so creepy? “I wasn’t doing too badly watching them play Twister , although I had to turn away a few times,” Ron said. “Don’t they realize the view they afford when they get into some of those positions?” 

This sounds very misogynistic to me.  “I’m sure they do, but they don’t care. I have to admit that it bothers me a little knowing that my now smooth front will afford people a better view of me. I’m not nearly as comfortable with my body as the girls.”

Anyway, Sam promises Ron lots and lots of sex on the cruise while the girls will watch Timmy. 

Monday, August 8, 2005 8:00 AM “The Weasleys will be here any minute now,” Harry said anxiously. “Are one and all sure they have everything they need packed?” “Why are you insisting we take so much clothing?” Emily questioned. “We are permitted to be unclothed at all times aren’t we?” “When on the ship and at nude beaches, yes,” Hermione answered as she did a cleansing charm on Ben’s bottom and readied him for the trip. “But when we travel about the islands or go souvenir shopping, you will need to be dressed and not just by the concealment charm. I have qualms about any of us even using that anymore now that you girls have discovered yet another imperfection with it.” 

FFFFOOOOORESHADOOOOOWIIIIIING Crookshanks and Alfred both paced the room as if sensing that the family was shortly going to be deserting them. 

This is the first time we hear of them ever since the first fic, as the Suethor simply forgot about them since they´re not nudists - and that is really the reason he wrote!  “Can’t we take them with us?” Caitlin begged. “They’re going to be lonely.” “No we can’t,” Harry said emphatically. “Beside, they will be much more content here, where they have free rein to roam about our quarters and the castle grounds, than they would shut up in a ship’s cabin all day.” “You are sure that Professor Bell won’t forget to look in on them and see that they are properly fed?” Emily asked concernedly. 

Why does she suddenly care about them? “Katie loves animals,” Harry responded. “She’ll see to it that our pets are well taken care of.” As the others finalized their packing, Kim had been reading the cruise brochure and checking their itinerary with animated anticipation.

DAY    PORT                                                                           ARRIVAL                  DEPARTURE

1          Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, United States                                                               5:00 PM 2          Princess Cays                                                               9:00 AM                      4:00 PM 3          At Sea 4          St. Thomas                                                                   7:00 AM                      6:00 PM 5          St. Kitts                                                                        7:00 AM                      3:00 PM 6          Barbados                                                                      8:00 AM                      5:00 PM 7          Antigua                                                                         9:00 AM                      6:00 PM 8          St. Maarten                                                                   7:00 AM                      6:00 PM 9          At Sea 10        At Sea 11        Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, United States                           7:00 AM

I actually think he stole that from an actual brochure. 

“We’ll actually be anchoring at six different islands,” Kim stated with enthusiasm. “I’ve never been further away from home than Hogwarts.” 

And the description for some of them are copy pasted as well. Some, well, might as well be nowhere.  “I’m looking forward to having a wonderful time,” Hermione said as she began breast-feeding Ben.

Such an important detail. 

“Professor Potter, there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why are we leaving so early?” Kim inquired. “Isn’t the United States’ east coast five hours behind us in time? If we leave at nine, it will only be four in the morning there, not even light yet.” “You’re correct,” Harry said rather perturbed. “The American Magical Authority, which is the counter part of our Ministry, insisted that we arrive before sun rise; less chance of us being seen.” 

What could possibly go wrong, again?  “What the hell are we going to do from four o’clock in the morning until five in the afternoon,” Emily blurted out. 

Well, you´ll soon see.  “Maybe we should spend the time teaching you to talk like a proper young lady,” Hermione suggested. “I’m sorry Mum, but that’s thirteen hours,” Emily said apologetically. Hermione looked concernedly at Harry. “Exactly what are your plans for all that time? she asked. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Harry responded. “I rented a hotel room nearby, where we can all crash or watch the tele until checkout at eleven. Then we can head to the dock and board the ship. Even though we don’t sail until five o’clock, there will be food and drink available for us from noon, and we can take a tour of the ship.” “That sounds like a good plan,” Jamie said, tearing herself away from her latest epistle from Alex. 

-___-

At least we don´t hear any of the things in the letters. 

Cut for more copied brochure exposition. 

Then this:

Caitlin rushed to the door and ushered the Weasleys in. “Why are you dressed?” Timmy asked disappointedly. “I thought we were going on a nudie coose?” 

Timmy is one of the worst things in this fic. 

Also, note the inconsistencies in the way he talks.  “We are Timmy, it’s just that we can’t get comfortable until we’re actually on the ship,” Caitlin responded. Without warning, Timmy grabbed the hem of Caitlin’s tiny skirt in his hand and pulled it up to her waist. “Caitlin has no knickers. I can see her gina!” he shouted. 

NO.  Caitlin leaned over and lifted Timmy into her arms. “You, young man, are getting to be more and more like your Aunt Emily,” she said giving him a big hug. “Your mother better break you of that habit before you enter primary school in the village or all the little witches will be practicing hexes on you.” Ron looked at Caitlin and then around the room. He could not understand her and the others’ lack of reaction to what Timmy just did. Then he finally comprehended that this girl was normally naked, and that it didn’t bother anyone. Why was he so different? Why did it bother him? 

Because Ron is the only person with a sense of reason and is therefore demonised. 

Anyway, they all take the portkey. 

“Damn,” Harry murmured looking nervously around the room. Hermione could never get Benjamin into his harness quickly enough. Harry didn’t like sending the girls first, but he had no choice. Fortunately, Jamie was a powerful Mary Sue witch, so he figured that they’d be okay. 

If only he knew..... “Girls! Hurry! Over Here!” He shouted. “Each of you, hold onto the umbrella. Don’t worry! You’ll be fine. The Weasleys will be along in ten minutes and your mother and me shortly thereafter. Move at least twenty-five feet from your landing point, but don’t leave the area.” Jamie, Kim, Caitlin and Emily had barely clutched the old umbrella when Emily felt as though a hook just behind her navel had suddenly yanked her irresistibly frontward. Her feet left the floor; she could feel Caitlin, Jamie and Kim as their bodies bashed into hers; their legs becoming entwined as they sped forward in a howl of wind and whirling color; their hands stuck to the umbrella as though it was pulling them magnetically onward. Emily had only expected the trip to last a few seconds, but instead it was minutes before they finally slammed to the ground in a bruised entangled mess. “Emily, will you please get your privates out of my face,” Kim asked as if gasping for air. 

Remember that this is Hogwarts Exposed? “Caitlin never complains,” Emily retorted without thought and then looked nervously from Jamie to Kim and then Caitlin, hoping that in the confusion no one had heard her comment. Yeah, remember the incest scene from the last fic? I wish I forgot it. Neither Jamie nor Caitlin seemed to be paying her any attention as they disentangled themselves, but Kim had definitely heard her and was staring at her piercingly. 

Cut for a scene with Hermione, Harry and Ron talking about how the girls will be okay - with Ron having the last word:

“Hermione, they’ll be okay,” Ron said in his most reassuring voice. “What could possibly happen in ten minutes?” 

Tempting fate Ron, tempting fate....

“I wonder where exactly we are?” Caitlin said as she staggered to her feet. “That trip threw my equilibrium out of whack.” “Me too,” Jamie said leaning against a nearby wall. “Well, one thing is certain,” Emily commented. “Whoever programmed that Portkey has never actually been here.” “You’ve got that right,” Kim added nervously. “I understand transporting to a discrete location, but this is a dirty, filthy back alley.” “Yeah, I’m glad we won’t be alone here long,” Jamie said. “Lets move closer to the main street and more light. It’s eerie in here.” “Now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings,” a voice echoed from the shadows ahead of them. “This alley is our headquarters. Perhaps we should clean up, but most ain’t stupid enough to come here uninvited.” 

Yeah.  “And there are four of them,” a voice from behind commented. “One for each of us.” “I get the older one with the big titties,” shouted a third voice from the dark. 

Yeah, we suddenly get a gang of rapists for no other reason that sensationalism.  “Hey, they’re just kids,” said a fourth disembodied voice. “From the sound of them, from England and probably lost.” 

That is one of the most unrealistic things I have ever heard from a “gang member”.  “Lance, are you a faggot? ‘Cause if you are, how ‘bout suckin’ my dick,” the first of the boys to speak responded. “Pete, what is the name of our club?” “The ’Chasers’, Art. And you’re our president,” answered the boy who had commented about Jamie. 

Wow, the dialogue...it´s terrible.  “And what do the “Chasers” do, Phil?” Art asked his voice sounding as if he were extremely intoxicated. “We’re tit-and-pussy chasers.” Phil answered, laughing raucously as he stepped from the shadows and was soon joined by his compatriots. As the gang closed their circle on the girls, the one referred to as Art, snapped open a long switch knife and waved it menacingly. Jamie whispered softly to the girls, “Wands on three. One… Two… Three… 

Why doesnt Jamie just use magic immediately? Yeah, this is completely pointless, and will be an extended scene in the next chapter and it will never be brought up again afterwards.  End of Chapter One

Thankfully.

And I think it´s time for me to start the spitefic which I will use as a framing device for some of the chapters from now on:

Ebony Dark´ness Dementia Raven Way woke up. She was on a silver ground, surrounded by darkness, just like her middle name. She wore a white dress, too white, for her taste. 

She looked at herself in her reflection on the ground - she gasped. “I...I have no goffic make up on! What is happening!”

The last thing Enoby remembered was that everyone was in the Great Hall, surrounding her together for the final showdown against Vlodemint and da death deelerz. She had swung her wand and yelled “Avada Kedavra”, and now she was in this dark space, surrounded by darkness. 

Suddenly, a light came up - a familiar face came out of it. It was.......Gerard Way! 

“Gerard! I can´t believe its you, what is happening!” Ebondy cried out. 

Gerard spoke up with his goffic, ethnic voice: “We need you, Ebony, the times are dark. MCR has split up, and Hogwarts is in danger of Sues who may be more powerful than you. Especially one certain is the most dangerous one, and Draco is dating Ginny!” 

“That bitch!” Evony exclaimed. 

Gerard held his hand out, while a flame came out. It then showed a picture of a pale smiling girl with dark hair and green eyes, who obviously wasnt gothic. 

“This is Jamie Zacherley, she is the most powerful of them all. But in order to defeat her, you must go to other universes and destroy the other Sues there. The first Universe I´m sending you to might seem familiar - it is Hogwarts, but a much more preppy and sappy one in a eternal tube of HappyLand! It is reigned by Ariana Black, a Sue so powerful and annoying that everyone kisses her arse while everyone who doesnt is evil!” 

Suddenly, a portal opened, and Gerard guided her into it. “Take this”, Gerard said, giving her a black goffic wand. “This will help you against all the Sues you will have to fight. In the end, there can be only one!” 

Then he disappeared. 

Ebony whent through the portal. She was in the Great Hall, but everything was pink, sappy, and preppy. Ebony shuttered, but was now prepared for the worst. Then all the students came in to the hall. 

She gasped. 

[beavervan55-blog]

7 key things we’ll be watching during Eagles OTA practices

The Philadelphia Eagles’ 2019 OTA practice schedule starts tomorrow on May 21. Tuesday marks the first time we’ll get to see these Birds in their first full practice this offseason. Remember: these drills are designed to be non-contact (no pads allowed), so it’s not quite real football yet, but it’s still better than nothing. Here are some key things we’ll be watching.

UPDATE: NFL Network reports Carson Wentz will have “no limitations for on-field drills during OTAs.”

Duh. There’s no other way to start this list.

It’s currently unclear to what extent Wentz will be participating in Tuesday’s practice. In his rookie minicamp press conference from two weeks ago, Doug Pederson was noncommittal about the starting quarterback’s status.

“Not going to get too specific or detail a lot of the things, but he’s been working. Encouraged by his progress and where he’s at. And just looking forward to the next few weeks with him.”

Wentz is still seemingly recovering from the fractured vertebrae that ended his 2018 season early. Here’s what Pederson originally said about Wentz’s potential recovery period back in mid-December:

“Don’t want to put a timetable on it, but it could be three months possibly.”

That was five months ago.

Wentz missing some spring practices would be far from the end of the world. But any time the team’s franchise quarterback is less than 100%, people are reasonably going to have some level of concern.

The guess here is that Wentz will be participating in practice in some capacity. But I also think the Eagles want to be super extra cautious with him so he’s ready for the actual games that matter.

Still, it’d be nice to see Wentz at 100% sooner than later. The last time he had a full offseason to prepare for the upcoming campaign was 2017, a year in which he nearly won NFL MVP.

If Wentz is limited, it’ll be interesting to see what Nate Sudfeld can do with extended first team reps. There’s obviously pressure on Studfeld to step up as the No. 2 guy with Nick Foles gone.

2 - First look at the new offensive weapons

The Eagles offense was too stagnant at times in 2018 so Howie Roseman went and out and acquired a bunch of new weapons for Wentz in the offseason. It’ll be fun to see the likes of Miles Sanders, DeSean Jackson, Jordan Howard, and JJ Arcega-Whiteside out there on the practice field.

Sanders’ usage will be especially interesting. How big of a role will he have as a rookie? How involved will he be in the passing game?

Eagles fans already know all about Jackson’s capabilities. He’s going to burn some defensive backs in practice. But can Wentz — whenever he’s back on the field — and Jackson get their timing down and get on the same page?

Howard’s physical style isn’t best highlighted in non-contact drills. It’s still be interesting to see just how many reps he gets in relation to Sanders.

JJAW could make for a very fun practice player to watch, especially if the quarterbacks are giving him some jump ball opportunities in the red zone.

How the new guys fit in will be interesting to watch.

3 - Will there be more 12 personnel?!

Earlier this offseason, Doug Pederson said the Eagles’ coaching staff has made a concentrated effort to get more two tight sets involved in the offense. Assuming he’s telling the truth, that’s very smart because 12 personnel helped saved the Eagles’ 2018 season.

I want to take Pederson at face value because 2019 marks the first full offseason where the Eagles know they have two really good tight ends. The team didn’t select Dallas Goedert until late April last year and they didn’t know exactly how much he could contribute as a rookie.

But now they should know that Goedert and Zach Ertz are both studs who deserve a lot of playing time. Goedert showed serious potential last year and he should only improve moving forward. Ertz, meanwhile, is coming off a year in which he broke the NFL record for single-season tight end receptions.

We should be seeing the Eagles utilize a good amount of 12 personnel during spring practices.

4 - The right guard spot

Brandon Brooks isn’t going to participating in OTAs as he recovers from his Achilles injury suffered in January. So, who get the first crack at right guard in his absence?

It could be 2018 sixth-round pick Matt Pryor. Or it could be Stefen Wisniewski. Maybe the Eagles rotate those guys there. Wis offers more experience but Pryor has more upside.

There’s also the possibility the Eagles could move Halapoulivaati Vaitai to guard. Doing so would free up Andre Dillard to get more reps at left tackle, which is the exact spot Pederson said the Eagles want to keep their 2019 first-round pick focused on.

5 - The defensive end rotation

Sadly, Chris Long is retiring. So, how do the Eagles replace him?

Let’s start with what we DO know: the Eagles have a good trio of defensive ends in Brandon Graham, Derek Barnett, and Vinny Curry. There’s reason to believe these guys can be more effective in 2019 than 2018 since injuries held them back last season. Barnett’s outlook will be especially interesting to watch; the Eagles seem to be really counting on their 2017 first-round pick to make a big leap in his development. At only 22 years old heading into his third season, he very well could be up to the task.

But what about beyond those three guys? We know Jim Schwartz loves to rotate his pass rushers.

Before we look outward, we must look inward. And by that I specifically mean the interior defensive line. The presence of both Malik Jackson and Timmy Jernigan could result in the Eagles using their ends to play at defensive tackle less often. This configuration could shorten up the defensive end rotation.

Still, what if there are injuries to the ends? The Eagles could suddenly be looking at one of Daeshon Hall, Josh Sweat, Shareef Miller, or Joe Ostman as one of their top three edge rushers. That’s not ideal.

It’s always possible the Eagles could sign a veteran defensive end (Derrick Morgan?) but for now the Eagles can use the spring to evaluate their young guys at that position.

The dark horse to watch at defensive end is Hall. I put him over Sweat on my latest 53-man roster projection. Maybe I’m reading into things too much but I found it interest how Howie Roseman mentioned Hall’s name before Sweat during his post-draft press conference. Also look at this recent article from Dave Spadaro that features three paragraphs on Hall before one shorter one on Sweat. Hall, not unlike Sweat, boasts an elite athletic profile. Hall also doesn’t have the injury history that’s always going to be a concern with Sweat.

Miller and Ostman obviously bear watching as well. The Eagles liked Miller enough to select him with a fourth-round pick. Ostman is a guy that’s drawn a lot of praise from the organization and it’ll be interesting to see if he’s anything more than a good practice player.

The Eagles were able to win a Super Bowl title largely in part because they led the NFL in pressures generated that season. The defensive end position is critical to their team success.

6 - The secondary configuration

There are many questions to be answered in the Eagles’ secondary.

Who is starting at the outside spots? Who’s starting at nickel cornerback? When will Ronald Darby and Jalen Mills be healthy? What position will Avonte Maddox play: corner, nickel, or safety? Can Cre’Von LeBlanc pick up where he left off after playing well down the stretch in 2018? Is Rasul Douglas ready to make the leap as a full-time starter? Is Malcolm Jenkins going to show up to practice? Is Andrew Sendejo going to make the team when he could be cut to preserve a 2020 fourth-round compensatory pick? Can Tre Sullivan step up into the old Corey Graham role?

I thought of all of those before I even got to one of the biggest questions of all: what’s in store for Sidney Jones’ future? Can he stay healthy? How does he fit in?

By re-signing Darby, the Eagles gave themselves a lot of options heading into 2019. The offseason is the time for them to experiment with different combinations and see what works best.

7 - The stock we put into spring performances

It’s fair to wonder how much spring success translates to the regular season.

Sometimes it just doesn’t. Take De’Vante Bausby last year, for example. He looked really good in OTAs but he didn’t even make the original 53-man roster.

I don’t think that final result made Bausby’s spring performance totally irrelevant, though. He was good enough to where he earned the right to battle for first team slot cornerback reps in training camp. Bausby then lost that role after struggling in summer practices and preseason games. But, still, his strong spring allowed him to at least contend for a significant role on the defense.

There could easily be some player(s) who follow in Bausby’s footsteps this offseason. Some guys will look good in the spring and then fade in the sweltering training camp heat. On the flip side, there could also be some guys who build on their spring momentum and take a big step forward in their development heading into the regular season.

Source: https://www.bleedinggreennation.com/2019/5/20/18632446/eagles-otas-practice-philadelphia-nfl-things-watch-preview-guide-carson-wentz-miles-sanders-battles

[greetingsfromthebottomofthewell]

THE PUPPETMASTER’S REGIME: ACT I

[directory]

things could go exactly how you want it. and i could be exactly how you want me to be.

[source] [triggers]

Have you ever heard of the musical "The Puppetmaster's Regime"? Most likely, you haven't. In fact, most die-hard theatre lovers are often unfamiliar with this little production. It was a 1934 stage musical written by anonymous authors of the music, lyrics, and book. It starred upcoming performers such as Timmy "cutie-pie" Wright, Sally Wilkes, Henry Gregory, as well as many others. At the time, it was the most expensive show to date. It was said to be the biggest, most spectacular stage show to San Francisco and back.

From the testament of Tyler Warwick (1901-1983) "I went to see the show about a week after I turned thirty-three. The ticket was a gift from my sister, who knew how much I loved the theatre. I remember the signs, they were huge and rather gaudy. Oh, and the playbill--it was just a single red dot with a doll-like face on it. It seemed a bit melancholy for what I assumed was to be a musical-comedy, but I didn’t pay much attention. I was going to see a Broadway show."

From the testament of Georgina Long (1911-1984) "The cast was made completely of 'new' people. Young children and adults alike who were longing to get back on stage after Vaudeville became old news--it was quite charming really. But I did take a bit of notice to that odd little playbill...all the playwrights and lyricists and everyone were all unnamed, and that design...it was a little red drop with a peculiar little face in it. Not even a title, just that little red dot. I had come to New York with my parents on an impromptu vacation after my grandmother had died...a Broadway musical seemed just like what we needed. (…)"

From the testament of Carl Hannigan (1920-1993) "I do recall most of the first act. Then again, who could forget? The story was a little hard to follow at first. There was a little boy who lived in a puppet shop, or maybe he lived down the street--no, no, he worked in the puppet shop, but he was homeless, so they provided him with a home there. The kid's name was Mori..Mortim...something weird...oh yes, it was Morietum...no, Morietur. Morietur, yes.

Anyways, Morietur's employer was this old man named Mr. Obcisor. I remember his name because his character was unimaginably unsettling--bouncing all around and getting angry and the little boy, all while keeping this nasal, gigglish voice. Anyhow, the production opened to Morietur and the odd fellow getting into an argument over the boy not doing his work, then two of them sang this peculiar number about puppets...it wasn't a normal song...or at least, the musicality wasn't normal. The lyrics were very enchanting, and the music did this odd flowing thing about the room…instruments would get very quiet without losing any power to it; maybe it was just the acoustics--I'm most likely explaining it all wrong. Oh well. But...in time, we got used to it, and the show progressed..."

From the testament of Gabriel Johnston (1919-1976) "This youngster, Mori- Morietur, something like that, was quite insecure about his stay in the puppet shop--very paranoid that his boss would throw him out. I was an aspiring lyricist at the time, and I'd done the lyrics to a few original community theater projects, so I was fascinated with the wording in these songs. I scribbled down a few lyrics after I’d went home. Unless I'm remembering wrong, the little puppet-shop-boy and Mr. Obi-something had a introductory duet, and then Morietur went off and had a short lament in a different, much more somber tune:

If I stay, and do everything right I can live in the day, and steer (stay?) clear of the night Out there in the night, in the dark, there’s a world of why’s (lies?)… I can hear them whisper… And sometimes I can see their eyes…

The ‘eyes’ comment confused me for a moment, but then I assumed that he was meaning the stars. It seemed as though the number was unnecessarily tragic and poorly situated within the show, but it was a minor quibble.

Now, Morietur had a girl friend named Trahunt and a boy friend named Adolebit. After interrupting the final note in his lament, they all gushed about how much they loved puppets...but they couldn’t afford one from Morietur’s guardian’s shop. and so they transitioned into this vibrant little song about joining forced to raise money so they could afford to build their own puppet. After this, the three all headed for school, and the story took a sharp turn in a different direction.

(After several attempts to begin again) Now...they had this really nasty teacher or headmistress named Madame Reperio, or something like that. They had a reprise of the song from before and she overheard them, and at first her remarks about the children's fantasies were somewhat comical...but then the light fixed on her and she sang this heartbreaking little song. What the song was about was up for interpretation. It was somewhat about love, but it had all these strange puppet metaphors. The only lyric that’s stayed with me is ‘Stroll through the wood-cracks, show them your pains/The hole in your throat and the strings in your veins’

Then, she just went on this little breakdown--I assumed it was a poorly-conceived character trait. She started singing off key and went to beat one of the kids. The curtain fell, and there was a scuffle heard onstage. People whispered to each other, but a rising new orchestra piece silenced us. The curtain rose again, and we were right outside the puppet shop."

From the testament of Louis Roberts (1905-1967)

"Morietur and his friends went into the town and sang a song about selling...dolls, I think it was. Because the little girl made dolls in her spare time, and she had to sell them. I remember those strange background characters. The company was so absolutely monotonous...they all wore some form of dark clothing, and each of them were very, very tall. I can remember how they all had their faces covered up by hair or hats or veils...none of them spoke. None of them even sang during the course of the show. They just walked in perfectly straight lines, as if they weren't even part of the production. Anyways, this strange song about buying dolls...it had absolutely no life. But for some reason, these children were putting their all into it. I could see the pain in their faces as they hit those high notes. And something else...as the lyrics went on...they seemed to...get...a little...it is so hard to explain. They all looked like they were...hurting a little. They looked so pale and nervous all of a sudden. Coming from a stage family, I convinced myself it was only stage-fright, but it still made me just a tiny bit anxious."

From the testament of Carrie Laurie (1921-1995)

"The kids all got their money from this strange man in cloak who sang a simple little tune...I still remember the lyrics:

Despite the fall of rain, little kiddies, Everyone needs a little song- Wooden dolls give you pain, little kiddies, Go on, little kiddies, run along...

His character was never really explained. But I remember how truly gripping the melody was...so haunting, it got you right there in the gut. Even the little kid actors seemed a bit unsettled by the new turn of the show. They all kept stuttering over their lines as they spoke and sang, and then a light bulb over the stage went out. Everyone kind of gasped and one man I think even laughed. The noise it made really spooked the little girl, little miss whatshername. All the names were so very strange. All I know is that light bulb had gone out, and the actors were stumbling across the stage...and the whole thing looked like a terrible flop.

When the children reentered the puppet shop, they presented Mr. Obcisor with the puppet pieces they’d acquired when the audience wasn’t looking, singing a braggedy sort of chant, ‘we done/we done/diddy-diddy done-done did it!'. It was obnoxious, but thankfully brief. After that, the light fixed on Morietur, and he began another tune. The song was a dud, and all I remember was that he flubbed the last line. The lyric had something to do with 'the final stroke of light', or some sort of long-winded moon-based metaphor. All I know is that he forgot the words, and all that could be heard in that theater was the sounds of car horns outside the building. The boy...he didn't seemed shocked or embarrassed or nothing, but his posture improved out of the blue, and the orchestra stopped. He projected half of the word ‘sorry”, then suddenly he burst forth in wordless vocalization. The music resumed, and the other characters began to join him.”

From the testament of Marcus Edger (1918-1968)

"...So after that bulb went out, the whole set started falling apart. We, the audience, tried our best to ignore it. But it was near impossible. I saw two sets of very angry attendees get up and leave. The set piece for the puppet shop screeched its way onto the stage, and we could see in the far back the paper sky background falling down. The lights went dim in what we assumed was an attempt to hide the malfunctioning set pieces. The kids, with the help of an oddly monotonous Mr. Obcisor, constructed the puppet...and this strange song played. To this day I don't know what they were saying. It sounded vaguely like Latin, but I went on to study Latin in college the next year, and found that guess to come out flat. I remember how it enchanted me, though. It enchanted all of us. We all began to feel this...thing...course through us. I remember a few people around us who were humming in an attempt to rid themselves of the sound, and I could hear people in the front rows crying out in what sounded like pain.

The actors themselves sounded as though they were about to pass out at any moment. They were doing this odd sort of ballet and they were tripping all over themselves, and a few more lights started flashing and breaking. We all sat and waited for the song to end, when...when...I'm sorry. (pause) I'm so sorry...I can't..."

From the testament of George Frank (1899-1999)

"...The lights were going on and off at random, and we were all praying the damn song would end soon. It had this force going with it...it was sucking us in. We could feel it. The little kids and the puppet man were dancing all around when...well, you see...(pause)...I really thought I could do it. I thought I could do it...I was right there in the fifth row, so I saw…but I can't..."

From the testament of Carolyn Mark (1901-1949)

"...The lighting was completely out of control. It was a mess. And that song...it was awful. But something about it...it was powerful. It had a force. I watched intently as the dancers began to skip around and...and...we...I thought they were...the lights..."

The actual events of the final scene of Act I of "The Puppetmaster's Regime" has been up for debate for many years. Not many people are willing to speak out about what happened on stage during those final moments. Many believe that there is no actual record of an interview with somebody who was willing the tell the story…this is not true, as one testament survives from a Billy Prescott, who was only six at the time of the show. At such a young age, one might assume he was less affected by what he recalls happening:

"...I was just a kid, so I don't remember much. All I can vaguely recall is that song...it was giving me a headache. I turned to my father to ask him if we could leave, when suddenly I saw the stage illuminate with this bright red light. The music stopped as one instrument after another died out, and swear I heard pounding underneath the stage. Everyone was questioning what was happening...even the actors. I remember that teacher lady being pushed through the door of the shop...and then everyone else came flying in from offstage, toppling on top of each other like rag dolls. There were people there who didn’t fit the design scheme of the production--stagehands and technical workers, I assume now. I remember the little girl screamed at the audience, then ran behind the shopkeeper while other actors continued singing. A few people started crying right there on the stage when suddenly this...curtain...came forward.

It's hard to describe what it looked like. It was a clear plastic wall, and it came down from above. Several years later I saw "Carrie: The Musical" on Broadway during one of its few runs...that thing that came down on the promgoers when Carrie was using laser lights to kill everyone? It was just like that. A bunch of set pieces from earlier scenes came down on the sides of the stage, trapping all of the actors in the center. Then chaos erupted.

The actors stopped singing, and were pounding on the plastic wall. Then, for some reason, they began to back away. As if some unseen assailants were coming towards them, they fled to the back of the stage--all except the little boy. The little boy who hadn’t stopped singing. Then, amid all that screaming and crying and shooting, the curtain flew out, and everything was in silence.

Due to that odd abruptness, the audience thought it was just a horrible ending to a terrible musical. We were about to get up when suddenly the curtain opened up again, revealing the stationary plastic wall upon which was a single light fixed on the little boy, Morietur. He had clawed his way through the plastic wall...we could see the blood on his hands...but…(pause)…the way he looked was…(…)

There were strings attached to every part of his body. We could all see his stomach...or lack of, anyway. It was like somebody had put a huge ice cream scooper in his belly. He was sobbing all over the stage, twitching and swinging around. It was a sight so unnatural looking, so painful and twisted and wrong...even now, I can't seem to wrap my head around how, but...(pause)...and so...and so everyone looked at him, not knowing what to do...and then he spoke...

"Help me...please...help me..." was all I could make out, and then he vomited and suddenly collapsed. The plastic wall lifted, and lights all came on. We saw the rest of them.

They were all dead. Every one of them looked exactly like the little boy. Everyone had those strings attached...and we watched as all of them, even the little boy...as their strings were pulled on. Their lifeless bodies rose on cue, and they bowed."

However, we cannot be certain that this a credible account...but unfortunately, it's all we have to work with. "The Puppetmaster's Regime" sparked horrible debate among the theatre companies. Several audience members had to be treated to special therapy for years to come...and the show itself was covered up by the police. For years to come the theatre company, as well as the police department, who had never managed to solve the gruesome murders of the cast and crew of the show, denied that the play ever existed. However, in recent years the story has resurfaced...sparking much new debate on the subject.

The theater that housed the musical still refuses to acknowledge the show's existence, and most theatre historians know nothing about the show in general. To this day, the identities of the anonymous lyric and music writers are unknown, and (to our knowledge) all recordings of the songs and police reports have been destroyed. However, through certain pieces of historical documentation, we can gather a bit of information on the production: The show itself had its first workshop in London in 1928. One of the songs, "Get A Puppet" was recorded with vocals by twelve-year-old Garris Creely. However, this recording has been lost, but is supposedly available in the black market of the internet. Other than that, no official records were ever made. Some ancient accounts say that an illegal audio taping of the final scene of Act I was recorded from backstage, but we cannot be certain that this is anything but a rumor.

As for any official memorabilia, very little of anything has survived. Until her death in 1994, theatrical historian Gladys Masters kept two large-scale posters, which she displayed at charity events--but these have since disappeared. Early costumes by Alice Lively, who had been the costume designer on Puppetmaster until she quit after payment disputes, are on display at the Pickett-Dahny Theatrical Museum in Dover, England. Other than that, playbills from its premiere night were given out, but most audience members destroyed their copies after seeing the show. Legend has it, around ten to twenty survive.

On another note, over the years the show has grown a small cult fan base, and here recently, an off-Broadway revival has been scheduled to premiere soon.

[next]

[itsworn]

10-Second 1963 Plymouth: The PERFECT Mix Of Street & Strip!

When Elwood Engle arrived at Chrysler in December 1961, it wasn’t a minute too soon. Dodge and Plymouth were hemorrhaging sales to Ford and GM as a result of the recently outdated “forward look” style by outgoing styling chief, Virgil Exner. Personally, we love Exner’s excessive, finned masterpieces, but the buying public is fickle and there was no denying that styling was having an adverse effect on sales. One of Engle’s first moves (along with penning the 1963 Turbine car) was to redesign the 1963 Plymouth, which you see here in the form of Baltimore native Ronald Nies Sr’s Sport Fury.

The iconic 1963 Plymouth marks a sea change in Chrysler styling. Its modern slab-sided body and simplified form was emblematic of the 1960’s modern design vocabulary, which cemented Detroit’s reputation as a world design center. In 1963, Chrysler’s superior engineering and manufacturing finally merged with a new, elegant style, setting dealerships afire with enthusiastic customers. All that’s wonderful, but the only thing Ronald Neis cared about is that his car was bitchin’. We agree.

Ronald grew up in a Mopar family. His father in fact had a ’63 Plymouth Fury wagon. Like a mind worm, it took over his psyche, and by adolescence there was but one future path for Ronald. By the age of 13, Ronald and his 18-year-old brother Gary would cruise the town looking for Mopars. “He liked the Road Runners and he was hoping to get one soon,” Ronald reminisces. “He was five years older than me, he liked Mopars, and it influenced me some. He just pointed them out. He knew where all of them were parked.”

It’s no surprise then that Ronald bought a 1966 Dart when he got out of high school. Within a couple of years he put a 340 in it, bolted on a set of headers, and went bracket racing with the original four-speed manual transmission.

Then came April 10, 1982. “I remember the day very well,” says Ronald solemnly. “I went to Capitol Raceway. I parked my car in the staging lanes, got out of the car to talk to other racers. You always do that. You get out and hang out. That’s the last thing I remember. I woke up twelve hours later in the shock trama unit in Baltimore. They said I was talking when I got out of the car, but I don’t remember any of it. When I woke up, my father was looking down at me. He said the rollbar saved my life.”

On that fateful run, a balljoint failed through the speed traps at 112 mph. The car turned violently and rolled six times. A helicopter air ambulance transported Ronald to the hospital, where he would spend the next two weeks recuperating. The car was a total loss, but it was the start of a new beginning. His girlfriend, Lydia, was by his side the whole time, and that impressed Ronald. Though now divorced, Ronald married the young woman the following year. “She treated me so good when I was recovering. She came over and took care of me every day. Helped my mom a lot.”

It would not be until 1995—well after the births of his sons Ronald Jr. and Timmy—that Ronald would finally get behind the wheel of another Mopar muscle machine. Ronald says: “I waited a while to get another Mopar. I wanted a car so bad, I got a ’72 Dart. By then, my kids were getting old enough that I could go work on it.” By 1997, it was running as a driver, and by the year 2000, it was going 12.30s with a mild 383. In 2003, he sold it to his son, Ronald Jr, who now has a mild pump-gas 400 in it. The Dart runs 11.40s with Ron Jr. behind the wheel, and he can often be found at the track with dad and his ’63 Sport Fury.

Ah, the ’63 Sport Fury. Over the years, Ronald had been a service technician at several dealerships including Towson Dodge in Maryland. As both an affable and talented mechanic, this presented the opportunity to meet and become friends with kindred Mopar spirits, including car nut Ken Wiley. Over time, Ken would press Ronald into service occasionally to help him with his modest collection of muscle cars, which included this 1963 Plymouth Sport Fury.

In 2003, Ken had asked Ronald to swap out the original ’63 rearend for an 8 ¾ unit out of a ’65. Ron recollects: “He wanted me to change it because the ’63s had a hub on the drum with a huge nut on it. You had to use a puller on it just to check the brakes. The ’65 rear has what you call floating drums. You can pull the drums off without all the hassle.” After doing the job, Ken mentioned that he needed to thin his collection from three cars down to two. “He had just bought a Mustang Pro Street car and didn’t have the room, so he sold it to me. He didn’t have the garage space for all three of ‘em.”

Other than the newer rearend, the Sport Fury was an absolute peach of a survivor. “I didn’t do anything to the body. It’s nice. It’s a 10-footer. You can find little defects if you look close, but it didn’t need any body work,” says Ronald. For $1,500 and some bartered work on Ken’s Mustang, the bright red Sport Fury found its way into Ronald’s garage. “I was just lucky actually,” says Ronald. “I was lucky he was a good friend of mine. I wouldn’t have got it if he hadn’t given me such a good deal.”

Ronald knew exactly what he wanted from the Fury: to make it a period-correct Max Wedge clone in a street/strip vein which could run 11s through the exhaust on pump gas and be driven to the track. After replacing the front floor pans—the only bodywork needed—Ronald pulled the tired 383 and built a mild 906-headed 440 with 10:1 compression. Behind that he added a 1970-vintage TorqueFlite, which has the pump in the front instead of at the rear like the original unit. This allowed Ronald to rebuild it with a reverse-pattern Turbo Action valve body and add a B&M Pro Stick shifter. (Ronald kept the “typewriter” instrument panel with push-button shifter, but it’s there for looks only.) To the beefed-up ’Flite, Ronald bolted up one of Frank Lupo’s awesome 4,200-stall Dynamic torque converters.

Between 2003 and 2006, Ronald worked hard to build the Sport Fury into his vision of the perfect street/strip machine. Upgrades to the fuel system, ignition, exhaust, and cooling all needed to be streetable, and not disturb the period-correct stock vibe. One area Ronald was not going to compromise on was the roll bar. Before hitting the track, he built a mild-steel roll bar—similar to the one that saved his life in 1982—using a kit from S&W. Fortunately, the stock interior with original upholstery was in great condition, and Ronald was able to preserve it mostly as-is, with the exception of a few instruments (tach, oil pressure, water temp) and a newer JVC radio unit. One concession to the stock exterior profile was the addition of a Max Wedge-style hood scoop, which puts the Sport Fury right smack dab in the middle of street/strip territory.

Likewise, the OE chassis, suspension, and brakes were largely maintained in a period-correct fashion, with Ronald only making concessions for better drag-strip launches. To that end, he installed Competition Engineering 90/10 drag shocks in front and Mopar Performance extended-travel shocks and Super Stock leaf springs in the rear. The front sway bar has been deleted and a 1968-vintage dual-pot master cylinder replaces the stock item. That 440-based 906-headed combo served Ronald well, running mid 11s (11.49 best) on 92-octane fuel while being licensed, registered, and driven on the street. He was enjoying the Sport Fury on the street, driving to shows, morning coffee get-togethers, and weekend cruises, but he was still paying close attention to improvements in the performance industry.

By 2011, Ronald decided to take the next step and push the Plymouth deep into the 10s. Ron says, “The technology was there to build a pump-gas 10-second street car without going nuts with it.” Historically, going 10s means higher compression, open exhaust, and race fuel, but one company—Indy Cylinder Head—caught his eye with their aluminum 440 EZ cylinder heads and dual-plane intake. If combined with a modest stroker kit from 440Source, Ronald reckoned he could build his own 493-cube Max Wedge big-block with enough stones to go 10s, yet be mild enough for the street.

Using a spare 440 block as a starting point, Ronald had J.B. Machine in Baltimore do the block machine work. Ronald assembled the engine himself using a set of Indy EZ cylinder heads (270cc ports) and a 440-2D dual-plane intake. These were port-matched to Max Wedge dimensions by Dwayne Porter, then combined by Ronald with a 440Source stroker kit, which included 440Source’s quench-efficient 10.6:1 D-dish forged pistons. A mild solid flat-tappet cam by Dwayne Porter (.585/.592-inch lift) works with a Hughes valve train that includes 1.6:1 rockers.

Though Ronald built the engine himself, he’s quick to praise Dwayne Porter: “I bought the heads from Dwayne Porter because he was an Indy dealer. He’s one of the best head porters around. Being a mechanic, I learned how to do a valve job years ago, but with my bad back, I just had him do it. He did a great job. I knew he was going to do a better job than me anyway. He does it every day for a living.”

With the Max-Wedge—inspired 493 hoisted between the fenders, Ronald reattached the 727 he had built earlier for the 440. You’ll also note that Ronald made his own heat riser shield out of sheet aluminum, which provides the 850cfm Holley double-pumper some protection against heat soak. Fortunately, much of that heat is already mitigated by a set of ceramic-coated 2-inch long-tube TTi headers, an Afco aluminum radiator with a mechanical fan, and a back-up pusher electric fan in front. All Ronald’s careful attention to thermal management has resulted in a classic Mopar that can hit the turnpike or sit in traffic without seeing the high side of 190 degrees. “Most weekends I’ll drive it. Once in a while I’ll miss a weekend if I’m having a bad day because of pain from my bad knees,” says Ronald. The farthest Ron has driven it is Chryslers At Carlisle: “It’s about 90 miles one way. There’s no problems with it. It just eats a lot of gas.”

Street driving, however, is only half the game plan. Ronald was able to capitalize on his engine upgrade program, proving out the Indy, Hughes, and 440Source components with a stack of timeslips in the 10s. In fact, Ronald’s best run to date is a 10.76/124.99—on motor alone, with a full exhaust, driving it to the track, and on 92-octane pump gas. “I’m happy with the way it is,” muses Ronald. “The future might be to make it a little faster, but because I’m on disability with a limited budget, I can’t afford to.” But just as we thought Ronald was done, the gears in his head started turning again. “I might want to upgrade to a Dana 60 because the 8 ¾ might break eventually. I might do a full port job on the heads to get it in the lower 10s, but that would be it. I don’t want to run in the 9s. There’s too much stuff you have to do.” Yeah, sure Ronald. We’ve heard it all before…

By Ron Neis’s own estimates, the home-built 10.6:1 compression 493ci big-block Chrysler Wedge puts out around 600 hp on 92-octane pump gas, but considering the trap speed for the 3,725-lb car is almost 125 mph, it’s probably closer to 680. Indy’s 440 EZ heads and dual-plane intake are largely responsible.

The Holley 850cfm double-pumper is well isolated from heat soak by an aluminum shield.

The original 1963 single-circuit master cylinder has been replaced with a safer dual-pot unit from a 1968 Road Runner. Ronald reports that the original ’63 dual-diaphragm booster provides ample stopping force in spite of idle vacuum between 8 – 11 inches.

Making big power with a Max Wedge is rarely an issue—it’s keeping things cool on the street that can be a problem. A mechanical flex fan inside a salvaged Dodge Dakota shroud handles the bulk of air movement through an Afco aluminum radiator. An auxiliary electric pusher fan can be called on for additional air movement.

The interior of Ronald’s 1963 Sport Fury is largely unchanged, including the original black vinyl seats and “typewriter” pushbutton dash. A B&M Pro Stick, Motorola tach, Auto Meter oil pressure gauge, and Stewart Warner water temp gauge have been added. The most important thing, however, is the S&W mild-steel rollbar.

Seen here with its Hoosier strip rubber out back, Ronald Neis Sr’s 1963 Plymouth Sport Fury is a nearly perfect specimen of the street/strip breed that combines streetability, 10-second strip performance, and period-correct looks. It was built over an eight-year period between 2003 and 2011.

Fast Facts

1963 Plymouth Sport Fury Ronald Nies Sr.; Baltimore, MD

ENGINE Type: 493ci RB-Series Chrysler big-block Max Wedge Bore x stroke: 4.350 (bore) x 4.150 (stroke) Block: 1970-vintage 440 Chrysler Rotating assembly: 440Source stroker crank, connecting rods, and D-dish forged pistons Compression: 10.6:1 Cylinder heads: Indy Cylinder Head 270cc 440 SEZ, port-matched to Max Wedge size by Dwayne Porter, 2.19-/1.81-inch valves Camshaft: Dwayne Porter custom-grind mechanical flat-tappet; 264-/270-degrees at .050-inch valve lift, .585-/.592-inch lift Valvetrain: Hughes 1.6 rocker arms, Manton pushrods, dual Comp springs, EDM lifters Induction: Indy Cylinder Head dual-plane 440-2D intake with Holley 850cfm double-pumper Oiling system: high-volume pump with Moroso pan Fuel system: stock tank, 3/8-inch sending unit, 3/8-inch line, Holley black pump Exhaust: TTi 2-inch long-tube headers and 3-inch custom dual-exhaust, Dynomax Ultraflow mufflers Ignition: Mallory distributor with Mopar Performance ignition box, 36 degrees total timing Cooling: Afco aluminum radiator with Dakota truck shroud, mechanical fan, and auxiliary electric pusher fan Fuel: 92-octane pump gas Output: approximately 600 hp (not dyno tested) Engine built by: Ronald Nies Sr. (block machine work by J.B. Machine; Baltimore, MD) Best e.t.: 10.76 at 124.99 mph Curb weight w/driver: 3,725 lbs.

DRIVETRAIN Transmission: 1970-vintage TorqueFlite 3-speed automatic with Turbo Action reverse-pattern valve body and bolt-in sprag; stock Mopar clutches, steels, and seals; built by Ronald Nies Sr. Converter: Frank Lupo Dynamic, 4,200-rpm stall Shifter: B&M Pro Stick Driveshaft: Victory Performance Driveline Parts, steel, custom Rearend: 1965-vintage Chrysler 8 ¾-inch with Detroit Locker, 4.30 gears

CHASSIS Front suspension: stock torsion-bar IFS with Competition Engineering 90/10 drag shocks, sway bar deleted Rear suspension: stock leaf-spring solid axle with Mopar Performance extended-travel drag shocks, Super Stock leaf springs Steering: factory manual Front brakes: factory drum brakes with 1968 Road Runner power-assist master cylinder Rear brakes: factory drums Rollbar/chassis: mild steel built by owner from S&W kit, custom frame connectors

WHEELS & TIRES Wheels: Torq Thurst 15 x 6 (front), 17 x 7 steelies (rear) Tires: Pep Boys 215/70R15 (front); Hoosier Drag Radial 30 x 9 x 15 (front)

INTERIOR Seats: stock black vinyl Instruments: factory “typewriter” instrument panel with Motorola tach, Auto Meter oil pressure gauge, Stewart Warner coolant temp gauge Stereo: JVC stereo with stock dash speaker

The post 10-Second 1963 Plymouth: The PERFECT Mix Of Street & Strip! appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/10-second-1963-plymouth-perfect-mix-street-strip/ via IFTTT