#I need to use the blues roster as a test subject to see if it’s nature or nurture

[andreburakovskyisgod]

These men plus the veterans on the St Louis Blues need to be asked how they pronounce quarter. Someone give me an answer.

[celestialholz]

Riddle Me This

So, uh... casually reblogging on the train yesterday morning, and there was this:

(Find the original over here: https://anxietyproblem.tumblr.com/post/184795738758)

And well, Qcard inspiration, basically. I’m beginning to think I can literally Qcard anything ever, to be perfectly honest, but have some dumb, wholesome and warming fun for your Wednesday evening anyway, because I write far too much angst and sometimes I think I need to lighten up a little lmao

This is dedicated to @q-card​ as we had a bit of a crap day yesterday and we deserve some silliness and love, as do you lovely people. <3

------

It’s not even a full minute into his shift when he hears an echoed ping; he spins, baffled, almost coating himself in the first tea of the morning, ready to reestablish boundaries in as few syllables as possible, but to his surprise, it isn’t Q. Instead, it’s simply an ancient piece of parchment, and he makes for it in mild intrigue, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes - what in the cosmos could be so important that he couldn’t have said ten minutes earlier, when they were still half-dressed and making their way through overly sugared pastries? If the god thinks this new relationship is about to devolve to the level of note-passing -

He stares at the elaborate cursive for a moment, brilliant in scarlet ink, and purses his lips.

“‘I am the beginning of everything, the end of everywhere. I am the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space. What am I?’” He reads aloud in disbelief. 

... Dear galaxies, it’s even worse than notes.

He considers it for a moment, chiding himself for even humouring the riddle - it’s hardly the conundrum of saving three Enterprises simultaneously, or proving humanity worthy of continuing. He’s a Starfleet captain, for pity’s sake, and he’s fairly certain that the kindergarten population of the ship could come up with something reasonably accurate in response.

“Do you want to know now?” He questions thin air dryly, narrowing his eyes in anticipation of an amused Q’s appearance; handwriting further writes itself across the page instead, and Picard can almost taste the self-satisfaction.

No, no. I can see you’re incredibly busy, wouldn’t want to disturb your vital mission. 

He consults the ready room ceiling in palpable exasperation and takes a seat, surveying the latest duty roster just so he looks suitably preoccupied to any casual, omniscient observer. It takes him a moment to realise something profoundly annoying: this is a riddle from an ancient entity, known for his complex tests, and therefore it can’t be that simple.

... Can it?

-------

“All ahead, ensign - warp five,” he instructs mid-morning, a proud, “aye, Captain” setting them off towards the closest starbase to meet a Risan diplomat. He settles into his seat, glances across at his first.

“Number One,” he begins, “may I ask you something?”

“Of course, sir,” Riker replies goodnaturedly, brow raised. “Do we need to adjourn?”

“Oh no, we’re just fine here. A simple example of wordplay for you, if you’ll indulge me.”

The brow hitches further, and the beginnings of a grin form on his friend’s lips.

“A riddle, Captain? Haven’t humoured those in a while. Go ahead.”

He recites Q’s riddle verbatim, and Riker stares at him for a moment, expression bemused.

“... I’ll be honest with you, sir,” he says eventually, “was kind of hoping for something more elaborate.”

Picard blinks for a second, nodding.

“Mm, so was I,” he replies dryly, staring up at the viewscreen. “It really isn’t any more interesting than the obvious, is it?”

“Don’t think so, no. Sorry to disappoint you.” Riker grins, shrugging, and Picard smiles back.

“Forget I asked, Commander. Thank you anyway. You have the bridge.”

--------

He finds exactly who he’s been looking for for a while in Engineering; Data’s halfway up a Jeffries tube, reciting conduit issues to the computer, and Picard crouches down, glancing up at his second.

“Mister Data,” he greets, “you’re quite the poet, I’m sure you’ll enjoy a riddle I’ve been pondering.”

Data’s head quirks to a curious angle given the lack of space, bewildered.

“Would you prefer we discussed this out in the open, Captain?” He enquires mildly, and Picard barely represses a smirk.

“No, no need - I won’t take up much of your time.”

“As you wish,” says the android, voice echoing around the tube. “I must confess to being intrigued at the prospect, sir.”

“Knew you would be.” Picard smiles quietly, and plays the words back aloud.

“... There are eight hundred and sixteen potential responses in Federation standard,” he replies simply, “ranging from the metaphysical to the -”

“Alphabetical?” Another voice answers fondly, and Picard glances up at his grinning chief engineer. “Sometimes, Data, an egg is just an egg.”

“... I am perplexed by your choice of vernacular, Geordi. What do dietary requirements have to do with the Captain’s riddle?”

Picard doesn’t even need to stare up at the familiar puzzlement of the Commander to acknowledge it. 

“Although Commander La Forge is most likely correct, sir - the most logical option is the most plausible in this instance. Riddles do tend to have simple conclusions, and none of the alternate options fit quite as well.”

Amusement fills Picard as he quietly excuses himself with a nod, leaving his colleagues exchanging confused glances.

-------

“Guinan,” he questions, half an hour from the starbase, “how are you with riddles?”

“I prefer my words less shadowed,” the El-Aurian replies from nine decks hence, matter-of-fact. “Why do you ask, Captain?”

“Personal curiosity,” he answers not untruthfully. “What do you make of this one?”

He recites it lightly, unconsciously leaning forward onto elbows as he awaits her response - if anyone aboard could have any manner of higher wisdom, it’s surely his old friend, her mostly eradicated race largely a mystery even to him -

Guinan clears her throat, and he can clearly visualise her dry expression.

“You’re a deeply intelligent guy, Jean-Luc,” she answers in exasperation. “You can’t tell me you don’t already know the answer to that.”

“Well of course I know it,” he exclaims woefully. “But I can’t help feeling it isn’t so easy.”

“... I mean, could be ‘nothingness’, I guess, but that’s even more ridiculous than the answer.”

“Mm,” he mutters in agreement, hesitating - his new relationship with Q isn’t something he ever wants to reveal to anyone, and especially not to Guinan, but perhaps a vague hint couldn’t hurt...

“If I told you this was set by someone known for being, well... difficult, would it alter your solution?”

“That’s most of the known galaxy in my experience. Are they also known for being stupid?”

Picard almost chokes on tea at the very idea. “Good lord, no.”

“No, then,” she replies honestly.

“... Ah.”

------

His afternoon of diplomacy having gone as well as it ever can with such an awkward ambassador and his mind as plagued as it’s become over the course of the day, Picard finds he can’t quite help himself as they arrive in transporter room one. The Risan’s clearly intelligent, has spent the last few hours desperately trying to prove as such, and amiable enough.

“Ambassador,” he asks as he nods at the chief, “perhaps a parting gift, as a show of good favour towards our new trade agreement. What humans would call a ‘riddle’; lateral thinking, in the form of wordplay.”

“I did think I’d had quite enough of your wordplay today,” replies the man indulgently, and Picard internally winces, “but as it’s an intellectual custom, please feel free.”

“Wonderful. Now...”

The Risan glances at him in disbelief a moment later.

“... Do they tend to be so simplistic, Captain?” He asks in amusement.

“Usually, yes,” he murmurs almost to himself. “Thank you, Ambassador. I’ll inform Starfleet of our conclusions post-haste, don’t let me keep you any longer.”

“Good show, Picard. Travel safe.”

“And you, Kanfla. Engage.”

Miles stares at him as he leaves, agape.

“... You do know that the answer, right sir?”

Picard rolls his eyes. “Yes, chief.”

------

He’s rather exhausted his options at this point, he realises darkly shortly before he clocks off. Beverly, whilst an invaluable friend and exceedingly helpful, is a woman of science and logic who will consider him likely in the first throes of something nasty and neurological if he starts questioning simple conclusions; Deanna, he acknowledges warily, is likely to assume him troubled and attempt to pry the depths of his psyche, and he takes little joy in being his dear counselor’s subject even when he needs to be. So that leaves -

He takes a subtle breath, and spins in his seat, glad the bridge crew’s on a split shift today and therefore that no one has to hear this twice.

“Mister Worf,” he begins primly.

“Captain?” The Klingon asks attentively.

“... May you indulge me for a moment?”

“Of course, sir.”

“A... riddle.” He almost grimaces, hides it admirably - he doesn’t doubt his lieutenant’s intelligence, but Worf is hardly known for his verbal subtleties or affection for the lateral; indeed, he looks mildly annoyed at the very notion.

“... Captain, with respect, I am not certain I would be of much use to you. Perhaps Counselor Troi would be a more... suitable choice.”

Picard’s lip twists for a split second, and he nods, pulls down his shirt promptly, and stares blankly out into space.

“... Mm,” he answers fairly. “As you were, Lieutenant.”

“... Yes, Captain.”

-------

He finds Q sipping something luminous from a spiral-shaped flute upon his return to his quarters, periwinkle blue sequins shimmering upon the evening robe he’s adopted, and the god grins at his appearance.

“Ah, mon capitaine!” He greets in delight, and damn his cursed riddles, but Picard admits privately that there’s something distinctly warm in his chest at the sight of him - of having someone he cherishes to come home to.

... Not that he has any intention of showing him as such, of course; their kiss is perfunctory at best, and his withdrawing look could sour honey.

“Oh, come now, dearest - you aren’t stuck, are you?” He teases, amused. “Do give me your answer, won’t you? The anticipation’s been driving me mad.”

Picard stares at him, trying desperately to cling to irritation rather than silently melt at the excitement in those eternal eyes. 

“You challenge me,” he’d said not two nights earlier against a pillow, fingers trailing across his captain’s cheek. “IQ of two thousand and five, darling. I see everything, I can do everything; do you have any idea how rare that is?”

He valiantly maintains his exasperated countenance, and answers dryly, “The letter ‘e’.”

Q’s face falls with an almost comical suddenness. 

“... What?” He says in disbelief. “What in the galaxies -”

He snaps, summons back the paper that’s spent its day upon the ready room desk, scanning it for a half-moment before raising disappointed eyes back to Picard’s bemused ones.

“Well yes, alright, fine,” he dismisses, “admittedly that does fit quite nicely, but did you really think I was going to offer you something with such a depressingly basic solution? Think about it, man!”

This is their acquaintance, Picard notes with a quiet thrill; the permanent game, ramped up to warp ten now that they’re lovers, every touch and night cycle whisper a tease, a promise, an idle nothingness laced with potential meaning.

He has no intention of failing, however little he has to prove any more, and so he thinks through that brilliant stare, mulls the words over his mind.

Beginning of everything; end of everywhere. Beginning of...

“... Ah,” he murmurs, humoured despite a certain weariness. “Ought to have realised it was self-indulgent.”

“’Self -’? Oh,” Q answers softly, smirking. “Well obviously it could be me, yes, but I was thinking rather, er... closer to home, Jean-Luc.”

Picard’s mouth opens, though he realises belatedly that he has nothing of note to say. 

“You... meant me?” He asks dumbly, baffled. “How can I possibly be -”

“Perspective.” Q smiles warmly, dots fingers across his uniform before clasping a hand quietly. “You begin and end everything for me, my dear. Honestly, your colleagues are morons - you’re right here! How could that not have occurred to th -”

Picard embraces him spontaneously, buries himself in a warm chest, treasures the arms that encircle him fiercely in response.

“You’re an overly dramatic fool,” he scolds tenderly, no heat at all to the words. “You can just say things sometimes, Q.”

“Too dull,” he drawls, grinning from somewhere above his favourite mortal. “We don’t do dull, dearest.”

He presses a soft kiss to Picard’s skull, and the captain wonders idly how he could ever have been annoyed.

[completelynobody]

Legis....It’s you

Olidas' Afternoon, 15th day of Summer's Warmth, Year 45 A.E.

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

United Merchant's Guild Hall, Freehold of Proust

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

Lex Legis handed over the parchment containing the completed form he was required to fill out in order to be considered for the position.

"All the information you asked for."

The halfling behind the counter accepted it, and looked it over with a skeptical scowl.

"Right....Mister Legless..."

"Legis," He interrupted, "Lex Legis."

The halfling gave him a sidelong glance.

"That's what I said...Legis...anyway, the Kaelinth city guard is currently at a full roster. If you're dead-set on a city guard position, Jobrak will be where the action is."

Lex nodded.

"Wherever...its fine."

The halfling set the parchment down.

"If you're so motivated to be a guard, why not try one of the kingdoms? The lords are always looking to hire guards, or outriders."

Lex shook his head.

"Nobody in any of the kingdoms had any use for my father. Now, I don't have any use for them. I'm perfectly happy in Proust."

The halfling shrugged.

"Suit yourself. I'll get this information into the works. Someone will come out to talk to you shortly."

Lex nodded.

These guild people were very thorough. He liked that.

After a lifetime of uncertainty, things were finally following a logical order for him.

Born to off-world parents, Lex never really was accepted by the children his age, who were born native to this world.

His father, being an off-worlder was forced to find work where he could. That meant the Legis family often had to move from settlement, to settlement.

Despite his father's prowess in battle, none of the native born rulers particularly cared to hire him on.

Probably due to the blue tinted flesh, inborn to his race.

The Zenythri, a people who could trace their lineage back to beings hailing from the outer planes devoted to law and order, were rare enough on the world his family escaped, before the Illithids ravaged it. Here, on Alluria, the Legis family was positively unique.

Unfortunately, uniqueness was not a favorable condition in this world's different societies.

When Lex reached fifteen years of age, he left his family back in the lands of the western frontier, and made his way as a mercenary adventurer.

Using all his father had taught him of the art of marksmanship using blaze-dust weapons, Lex had made a name for himself among the ranks of independent men-at-arms.

In the intervening decade, Lex had shed blood on two continents against all manner of foes.

He preferred to take jobs working for established rulers...much the same way his father had tried.  Despite their resistances to hiring men like him. Men who were different.

No matter what the cause, some part of him could not be brought to work for any entity opposed to the established authority.

After ten years of it, Lex had seen enough though. The disorder that invariably accompanied the nomadic lifestyle of adventuring was wearing on him.

He chose to settle in Proust.

Lex couldn't quite explain why, though. Perhaps it was the inherent disorder of the freehold's lack of any centralized authority that called to him? A situation that, on some inborn level, he felt he could rectify.

The closest thing to a governing body in the freehold was the United Merchants Guild. Moral ambiguities aside, they represented order in the region. It was that order that appealed to Lex the most.

Of course, the money wasn't bad either.

"Lex Legis?"

A comely human female was holding his parchment. She cut an impressive figure, standing rigidly amidst the bustling happenings of the guild hall.

"Here, I'm here."

He stood and waved a hand to gain her attention.

She looked at him with a blank expression, belying no prejudices she may have due to his unusual skin tone.

"You're here applying to join the guard?"

He nodded.

"Yes, someplace fixed though. One of the towns or cities. I'm not exactly eager to patrol long stretches of empty roads."

She smiled.

"I completely understand. Follow me."

She lead him back to an out-of-the-way office, deeper in the guild hall. Holding open the door she beckoned him inside.

Once in, she closed the door and rounded the desk.

Settling into her chair, she indicated the empty seat across from her.

"Make yourself comfortable Mr. Legis."

Lex sat, hands folded in his lap.

"My name is Dandria Dustil. I'm chief recruiter for the guild's security forces here in Proust."

Lex studied her. Her dark hair and features, as well as her tan skin tone spoke volumes as to her origins.

"You're Redgulan, are you not?" He asked.

She blushed.

"Yes, originally. I was born on a farmstead north of Lanterum. But I moved to the city when I was very young. Lived there until the attack eleven years ago. Now I'm a proud citizen of Proust."

He nodded with a slight smile.

Changing the subject, Dandria pretended to recheck the information on the parchment.

"So you're aware of the fact we're looking to fill the ranks of the Jobrak guard, yes?"

Lex nodded.

"Like I told the small-fellow out there, wherever is fine."

Dandria offered a nod in return.

"It says here your preferred method of armament is a blaze-dust pistol?"

Lex smiled.

"Its a family thing. My parents and I came here from another world with the rest of the refugees escaping the Illithid armada. Where we came from, my father was a fairly respected warrior. His weapon of choice was the same as mine is today."

She offered no indication of approval or disapproval.

"Those weapons have become more common since the war. The old Admiralty made use of them extensively. Did you serve?"

Lex shook his head.

"I thought about it, but if my father wasn't good enough for them, then they weren't good enough for me."

She clicked at him with a humorous tone.

"Oooh...a bit of callousness? That'll come in handy here in the freeholds."

He shrugged.

"Let's just call it a pragmatic indifference."

She smirked.

"Fair enough. It also says here you've done wok as a bounty hunter?"

He nodded again.

"Yes. Tracking down lawbreakers mostly. Bringing crooks to justice just appeals to my nature, I guess."

She quirked a brow.

"Were any of these 'crooks' guild members?"

He chuckled.

"A few."

Dandria reclined in her chair.

"Then why come work for the guild if you know we don't exactly operate within the law all the time?"

Lex shrugged.

"I figure, here, you are the law. Doesn't affront me much if the laws of other regions are being bent. Just so long as what's law here remains consistent and equally enforceable."

She smiled again.

"They are indeed."

She leaned forward and used a quill to sign off on the parchment.

"You can go ahead and report to the constabulary headquarters in Jobrak. Bring your gun. I suspect you'll need it sooner than later. As far as I'm concerned, you're the newest copper in the Jobrak city guard."

Lex smiled and got to his feet.

"Thank you Miss Dunstil. I'll head out first thing."

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

Heindas' Evening, 10th Day of Summer's Ebb, Year 47 A.E.

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

The Nymph's Nest brothel, Jobrak, Freehold Territory of Proust.

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

"Yes, Lord Idald, I am fully aware of your status in the Kingdom of Redgulus. But, as I've repeatedly reminded you, you're not in Redgulus."

Lex shook his head when he took in the state of the Redgulan nobleman's appearance.

Half-dressed, covered in spatters of vomit and other less identifiable stains. The noble shook a fist toward him.

"I am Rosgrave Idald, second son of Count Hernon Idald!"

He waved a sheet of wine-stained vellum at Lex.

"And I've just gotten word of my father's passing! So...naturally, I am grieving in the proper Redgulan fashion! I'm getting drunk and sporting with harlots!"

He waved the vellum so hard, he threw off his own balance. He stumbled into Lex's partner, a gruff Dwarf named Gaorge Stonepalm. Gaorge shoved the nobleman to the floor.

"Keep off of me with all that mess!"

Gaorge clenched a fist.

"Or I'll spill the contents of yer skull all over this lovely carpeting!"

Several of the courtesans who worked at the brothel looked on from an adjoining room.  Lex could hear their whispers of disgust.

He gently reached out and clutched Gaorge's wrist, giving it a quick squeeze, calming the dwarf.

"I am sorry for your loss Lord Idald. But that doesn't mean you can shirk your bill here. These ladies have provided a service for you, and they expect to be compensated. If you don't pay up, my partner and I will have no choice but to take you to the city's jail, and hold you until your family sends funds to cover what you owe, as well as post your bail. I'm quite sure the last thing your poor, beleaguered mother needs right now, in this difficult time, is word that one of her sons is sitting in a freehold city's jail cell because he refused to pay his brothel tab."

The lord rolled onto his ass and sat on the floor, drunk and incredulous.

He began to weep.

"I'm sorry!"

He grabbed a fat coin purse from his belt and threw it at Lex and Gaorge.

"Here! Just take it! Take it all. I don't care anymore!"

He accentuated his words with more waves of the vellum.

Gaorge smiled and picked up the pouch, testing its weight.  He looked to Lex.

"This ought to cover the bill, and then some. A pittance for our troubles?"

Lex shook his head and took the coin purse.

"No, Mister Stonepalm, we're duly compensated for the work we do."

He opened it and counted out enough coin to cover the nobleman's bill. He handed the coins to Gaorge.

"Go settle Lord Idald's account, I'll get his lordship on his feet and out of here. I'll see about getting him a room at the Red Boar Inn. Meet me there."

Gaorge smirked as he eyed up the ladies who were turning on their sultry charms now that the Dwarf had gold in his hand.

"You bet Legis. Say...an hour?"

Lex glared at him.

"Ten minutes. And that's to pay the bill already due, not for your own sport.”

Gaorge scowled.

"Pelor’s balls, Legis, yer too uptight sometimes. Whatever. I'll meet you in ten."

Lex nodded and crouched down, helping Rosgrave to his feet, and tucking the coin purse back into the nobleman's belt.

"See you there."

He threw the nobleman's arm around his shoulder to help support him.

"Come on now Lord Idald, let's get you somewhere you can sleep this off."

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

Hexdas' Midnight, 23rd day of Autumn's Rest, Year 49 A.E.

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Beggar's Alley, Jobrak, Freehold of Proust

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Lex cursed and he crouched behind a stack of ruined crates, and quickly went about reloading his pistol.

Lex really hated the undead. Especially vampires. Even more so when those vampires liked to cast spells at him.

He looked across the alley to his partner Gaorge. Smiling, as he worked at reloading, he called out to the wounded dwarf.

"How we doing over there, Stoney?"

The Dwarf clutched at a wound on his scalp that was still gushing blood.

"Me? Oh, I'm just fuckin' dandy! Its all fresh mangoes and perky pixie-tits over here!. How about you, Legis? Still fiddling with that stupid gun? Anyone ever tell you swords don't need reloading?"

Lex smirked as he tamped the ball and powder tight.

"And anyone ever tell you that swords require you to get awfully close to the raging vampires you're trying to vanquish?"

He peered up from behind his cover to see the vampire was working out the somatic component to another spell.

He crouched back down and cursed again.

"He's warming up another one Stoney! What's the plan?"

The dwarf pulled his hand away from the wound and rubbed his bloody fingers together. He laughed.

"Same strategy my father's great grandfather, Orlock Stonepalm used against the dreaded Minotaur Lord of the Sullen-Depths Labyrinth!"

Lex chuckled.

"Let me guess...we rush it?"

The Dwarf hefted his axe and nodded.

Lex shook his head as he pulled back the firing mechanism.

"Our Warforged colleague, Constable Spade, tried that already. He didn't fair so well."

Gaorge shrugged.

"Maybe the bloodsucker will be surprised we'd be dumb enough to try it too?"

Lex rolled his eyes.

"Alright, on three...I'll put a ball in the bastard while you clear the distance and hack it down."

Gaorge smiled.

"I can agree to that."

Lex grinned.

"You know why I love being partnered with you Stoney?"

The dwarf's face crinkled in confusion.

"No, why?"

Lex smiled wide.

"You're real easy to shoot over."

Gaorge rolled his eyes this time.

"Kiss my ass Legis."

Lex laughed.

Garoge smirked.

"You ready Legis?"

Lex nodded.

Gaorge set in a crouch.

"On three, right?"

Lex peered up again.

"Yep."

Gaorge nodded.

"Alright....THREE!"

He burst forth from behind his cover and rushed down the alley at the Vampire.

Lex laughed and quickly stood up, taking aim.

As the dwarf closed the gap, Lex saw the vampire's eyes go wide for a moment before it completed its spell.

He pulled the trigger, and in less than a heartbeat, the familiar buck of the explosive recoil shook his arm.

At the same moment in time, the vampire's spell was unleashed.

Lex felt his muscles begin to seize up.

He braced himself against the tightening sensation, trying to steel his fortitude against the vampire's arcane power....

Gaorge heard the whistle of Lex's shot whizz over his head. The vampire's spell must not have gone off properly, because he didn't see any brilliant flashes or feel the heat of any explosions.

Gaorge almost pitied the creature when his axe buried into its head, splitting it like a ripened fruit.

The creature dissipated into a gaseous state and drifted away in the night winds.

He sighed.

"Well Legis, looks like it got away this time."

He paused, awaiting some sarcastic, yet dry reply. When one didn't come, he turned and looked back up the alley.

"Hey Legis, did you hear me?"

He saw Lex, standing motionless in the shadows. His arm still extended, aiming the pistol at where the vampire was.

"Legis, you alright?"

He started walking back towards his partner, who refused to answer.

"Come on man! Its gone! Quit posing and come help me pick up the pieces of what's left of Spade. Knowing Jimur, he'll want to melt down the poor bastard's body for the raw Adamantine."

Legis still refused to answer, much less drop the aiming pose.

The dwarf walked a little more briskly toward his silent and still partner.

"Come on Lex, what in the hells is wrong with you?”

He kicked a small, empty wooden keg at him.

Legis made no attempt to move, or block the projectile. It made impact, and knocked Lex down.

Gaorge's heart sank when he heard the distinct sound of rock, striking rock, and cracking.

The dwarf ran as fast as his short legs would carry him to his now fallen partner.

He dropped to his knees when he found Legis laying in the alley, completely petrified.

The keg he'd kicked had knocked over the living statue, causing it to make impact with the cobblestone alley.

The arm holding the pistol had broken off at the shoulder. The chest cracked diagonally from the broken shoulder, down to the hip.

Gaorge tried to frantically hoist the statue back up to its feet, but the blood on his hands caused him to lose his grip..

He watched in horror as his partner's form impacted the ground again, separating the upper section from the lower along the fault line.

"Oh gods...Legis. I'm so sorry."

Thirty minutes later, Gaorge pushed a wheelbarrow filled with the parts of the fallen warforged constable, and the pieces of his petrified and shattered partner, into the Jobrak City Guard headquarters.

"Someone help!"

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

Bocdas' Afternoon, 8th Day of Winter's End, Year 50 A.E.

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

Hallink Gemnibbler, the gnomish enchanter, smiled as he gazed upon his completed creation. He turned to his current patron, Jimur Fletcher, who stood nearby.

"Well? What do you think?"

Jimur stepped out of the shadow of the large bodyguard who was never farther than an arm's length from him.

He casually looked over the creation.

"Is it alive?"

Hallink clicked his teeth.

"He is most certainly alive. It took me a few months to piece everything together properly, and I had to make a few necessary adjustments here and there...but yes. I think its all in all a successful experiment."

Jimur looked at the gnome with a dubious glare.

"So you just pieced the poor bastards together, and brought him back to life like this?"

The gnome nodded.

"Yes. I'm afraid the warforged was a complete loss. And the petrified constable would have been as well. Luckily there was enough of the fallen warforged's....chassis...left to act as a new body."

Fletcher looked first to his bodyguard, then to the creation.

"So he's a living golem?"

Hallink shook his head.

"Technically, he's a half-golem."

The bodyguard let out an agitated groan, but otherwise remained silent.

Jimur turned to face Hallink.

"So he's alive, but has golem parts?"

The gnome nodded.

"Yes, I suppose that's accurate. Save for his head, and torso, his body is primarily artificial."

Jimur looked back at the creation.

"Well...when can he get back to work?"

The gnome laughed.

"Whenever you'd like."

Jimur's eyes narrowed.

"You put him back together physically...but is he 'all-there' mentally?"

The gnome shrugged.

"Depends on how mentally stable he was before. There's also bound to be some slight residual affect to his state of mind. He's really been through quite a shock. But...I took steps to ensure he won't pose a danger to the general public."

Jimur stared at the creation.

"What kind of steps?"

The gnome walked over and stood next to Jimur.

"I wove a few mentally binding spells into the whole construction process. He's going to fairly single-mindedly perform his duties as a constable. But unlike a true golem, he is capable of his own thoughts and able to plan his own courses of action. The spells are more like safeguards. Directives, if you will."

Jimur turned to him.

"Oh yeah? What are these directives?"

The gnome smiled.

"Ask him."

Jimur quirked a brow and turned to the creation.

"Officer....what are your directives?"

Lex Legis blankly looked up at Jimur Fletcher.

"Serve the public trust. Protect the innocent. Uphold the law."

[hookedontaronfics]

Honky Dancer series - Chapter 6

Chapter title: Hideouts and Hangups Read the previous installments here: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3  | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Smut A/N: You’ve been asking for it, and I have delivered, but don’t be fooled. This series promised you drama, and there’s so much more to give. I hope you soak up every sweet moment of this chapter! Enjoy! X

Two weeks flew by without me having much chance to do anything about the boy situation. Between my roster of classes, Rocketman rehearsals, and screen tests, with actual filming coming up far too soon, I couldn’t find enough time in my schedule to sit down with Markus and tell him how I was feeling. I refused to let him down in an off-hand manner at the end of rehearsal - he at least deserved more than that from me. I also felt suspended in a weird sort of juxtaposition, considering I was talking to Taron on the phone every night before bed but still had this weird emotional hangup because Markus was still attached to my life. I couldn’t fully move forward if I was still holding back. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became how I was feeling about the two men.

“Alright, hold still, honey,” a costume assistant said through a mouthful of pins clenched between her lips. I was used to costume fittings at this point in my life, having gone through many of them for the stage too, but I wasn’t used to Taron just walking in the dressing room in nothing but a robe and his skivvies, cup of coffee in his hand. I jerked in surprise, got stabbed by a pin, yelped “ouch!” and nearly toppled off the dais I was standing on. Taron, for his part, only pulled the edges of his robe around himself and grinned at me, but it was far too late; I’d already seen the hair lightly splayed across his chest, the taut muscles of his stomach, and those thighs that could make anyone melt.

“Good afternoon, Juliette,” he said as I tried not to blush but I could feel the redness creeping up from my neck.

“Taron, h-hi,” I stumbled slightly.

“T, your costume is set up in the other room. If you need any help Brigette will be back shortly,” my assistant said, still dutifully pinning away as I tried to remember how to breathe.

“Ahh yeah, thanks, I think I’ve got it,” he said, giving me a small wave and disappearing into the other room. Did he really just walk around set like that? I wondered. Not that he had anything remotely to be ashamed of. I knew Taron was obviously busy with scenes us dancers weren’t a part of, and nothing was ever shot in order. But his apparent lack of self-consciousness had also taken me by surprise.

“You’re all done, sweetie. Let’s get you out of this and on your way,” the assistant said to me. I quickly shimmied out of the pink outfit and handed it off so it could be finished and then slipped back into my regular clothes, which really just included a leotard and sweatpants. I never claimed to be fashionable. The assistant hurried off to go do something and so, having a moment of courage, I knocked on the door of Taron’s dressing room and then slipped inside.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” Taron said as soon as I had the door closed behind me. I turned around and spied him sitting on the couch, sipping his coffee still but dressed in a pair of red pants and a white button-down shirt.

“I… I missed you,” I said quietly, a bit unsure of myself.

“Come here, love,” he smiled, opening his arms for me and I gladly walked into his embrace, hugging him tightly for a long moment before laying my head on his shoulder.

“I’m not used to seeing you with long hair,” I smirked, teasing my fingers through the ends of the wig lightly.

“It takes some getting used to,” he grinned. “But I can handle the wigs much better than what they’re going to have to do to my hair later. Unspeakable things,” he said with a shudder.

“It’s fine, Taron, I’ll still find you cute,” I joked lightly, making him grin and pull me in for a kiss. These were the kind of moments we had lately, stolen bits of time between rehearsals and call times. I spied a blue plaid jacket hanging on the edge of a chair. “So what scene is it today?” I asked curiously.

“Me and Kiki Dee, or the ever lovely Rachel Muldoon,” he grinned. “It’s the ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ scene,” Taron replied. “Which Richard Madden interrupts whole-heartedly,” he said with a cute grin; I loved how much he adored his friend and co-worker.

“So, you should show me more of your costumes,” I giggled, just teasing him really but he instantly hopped up off the couch and pulled me up with him.

“Why not, love!” he grinned, pulling the door to the dressing room open and then peeking out to see if anyone was nearby, but we were mostly alone in the costume department. He sweetly took my hand and led me to where the rows upon rows of costumes were hung. “Holy shit,” I said under my breath, a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of sparkle.

“It’s a bit full on, innit?” he grinned, as I carefully ran my hand over the fabrics.

“Yeah, just a bit. I know you haven’t had a chance to wear all these yet, but do you have a favorite?” I asked.

“Oh, I do. And it’s the craziest one of them all!” He chuckled, showing off a bright orange neoprene number with rhinestones (I’d later be corrected that they were real Swarovski crystals) and devil horns and massive feathered wings.

“You’re going to be wearing that,” I said, staring agape at Taron slightly.

“Didn’t you say you’d find me cute anyhow?” He teased lightly, ruffling my hair until I slapped his hand away playfully.

“It’s just a bit intense is all. And really orange,” I smirked, pulling a feather boa off a rack and wrapping it around myself playfully. “I couldn’t imagine dressing like this every day,” I giggled, picking a pair of sunglasses and carefully placing them on my face as well.

“Well look at you,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder as his green eyes met my own blue ones in the mirror’s reflection.

“Have you managed to talk to Markus yet?” he asked gently, knowing it was a bit of a touchy subject with me.

“Haven’t had a single chance, Taron. I’ve barely seen you, you know,” I sighed, turning to him. “I’ll do it, I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he said, sweeping my hair back off my shoulders. “I’ve just found I don’t like sharing all that much after all,” he said, his voice reaching a deeper timbre as he leaned in and kissed me, taking my breath away as he always did. His hands drifted down to my waist as I kissed him back, getting lost in the feel of those soft, needy lips against mine. He walked me back until my butt hit the edge of a table, then hoisted me up on it so I was sitting and melting a bit into the racks of costumes behind me.

As our kisses heated up, Taron knocked the glasses I was still wearing askew on my face but I could care less as he slowly slipped the shoulder straps of my leotard down my arms, leaving his trail of kisses along my jaw, down my neck and scattering them across my collar bones. I couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped, Taron pressed against me between my legs. I felt his lips working their way across the skin of my chest, drawing lines of fire across my skin as I let my head drop back, and when he groaned slightly himself I instantly felt the throbbing response in my groin.

But then he pulled back, panting and looking slightly unnerved and quite obviously turned on, as my eyes drifted below the belt. “Why did you stop?” I asked, trying to sound anything but the desperation I felt in the moment.

“I’m not going to fuck you in a costume closet,” he said, running his fingers through his wig with frustration. “You mean more to me than that. I shouldn’t have gotten carried away,” he tried to apologize as I awkwardly hiked my leotard straps back into place.

“It’s...um… fine, T,” I said, clearing my throat and hopping off the table.

“I want to, believe me,” he said, turning his intense gaze on me, his eyes full of lust still. “But this is not how I carry myself. And not what you should accept either,” he added, though he couldn’t resist stealing another kiss from me before we finally had company.

“Oh, Taron dear, there you are. They’re asking for you,” a brisk woman said as we nearly jumped away from each other and Taron tried to hide his obvious bulge.

“I’ll be right there, Brigette,” he replied in an oddly strangled voice, and whether Brigette thought anything about what we were up to or not she didn’t let on. I quickly returned the glasses and boa to where they had been and brushed a feather or two off my leotard, still feeling turned on and awkward.

“I’ll see you later then?” I asked, and Taron sighed and nodded.

“Yes, of course. We’ll figure out dinner soon, promise,” he said, giving me one of his signature adorable grins. I was often the subject of such sweet smiles that always made me melt a little inside. We parted ways and I swung into the bathroom first before returning to rehearsals, trying to calm my body down but that was difficult with thoughts of Taron still racing through my mind. While I was washing my hands, another girl bounced in and seemed thankful to see me there. “Oh please tell me you have a tampon on you,” she pleaded. “Having a bit of an emergency.”

“Mmmm, yeah, I think so,” I said, digging one out of my purse and handing it to her.

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” she said, disappearing into one of the stalls as I stood frozen to the spot with the sudden realization that I was overdue for my own. By a week. Oh fuck, I breathed out slightly, my stomach clenching uncomfortably as I tried to think back. But I couldn’t think my way around it; I was regular without exception and I was a week late. Maybe, I thought, reaching for any straw, maybe because I’d been dancing so much more now my body was thrown off and having to adjust. That could totally be it, I thought, desperate for a way to not freak out about this possible scenario. I had to force myself to go back to rehearsals and try to focus on the routine.

I fairly fled the studios when we were done, running to the nearest convenience store and trying to not hate myself as I pulled a couple of different tests from the shelf. I stared at the floor as I was rung up, the girl behind the register exceptionally chatty. I bounced impatiently, nearly leaving my change at the counter just so I could get out of there faster, shoving the bag deep in my purse before taking the tube across town to pick up my daughter from my mum’s. After homework, dinner, cartoons and lights out, I finally had a moment to shut myself away in the bathroom, my bladder screaming at me as I’d been holding it the past hour.

I stared at the tests in my hand for a long moment before chickening out, not sure I was ready to know that answer yet. I peed and shoved the unopened boxes in the bathroom cabinet, sighing to myself and feeling things I couldn’t identify; fear, probably, anxiety, sadness, but also a little bit of hope and maybe even joy. But how this could potentially affect my life, if it were real, I wasn’t ready to face just yet, and so I tucked myself into bed and tried not to think, ignoring both Markus’ and Taron’s texts.

It took me a week before I could face that reality, another week where my period had yet to make its arrival, another week of anxiety and worry. I’d finally managed to nail down another dinner date with Markus for the following evening, and I needed to know this answer before I faced him again. But almost as if my prayers had been answered, when I went to use the bathroom at the studio knowing full well what awaited me at home, I wiped and there was blood and I screeched “yesssss!” out loud and heard an answering giggle in the next stall over. “Sorry, don’t mind me,” I said, crying slightly out of relief. Thank god, I thought, not even caring that I’d slightly bled through onto my underwear and leotard. I wasn’t pregnant, and that’s all that mattered.

I practically floated through rehearsal and the rest of my day, texting rather steamy things with Taron long into the night and then slightly regretting that when I woke up exhausted the next morning. I slogged through work at my studio and got ready for my date with Markus, repeating in my head what I had decided to say to try and let him down gently but firmly. I needed to make it clear my heart was very much elsewhere.

But damn if he didn’t look fantastic that evening, in a blue-checked button-down and grey jeans and his signature beanie. We ended up actually having a fantastic dinner together, laughing so much my sides hurt and I somehow forgot I was supposed to be breaking up with him. We went back to his place to watch a movie and cuddle a bit, and my moment not only came but passed me by as well. Because instead of breaking up with him, I ended up making out with him instead. Which led to us sleeping together (and yes, he wore protection this time, no question) and me waking up in the morning naked next to his sleeping form, and feeling a mix of things but not one of them regret.

What the hell has happened to me? I wondered, watching Markus sleeping. He was more my type, and we understood each other. He didn’t light the fire in my chest, certainly, but I liked him and I belonged with him, more than I would ever belong to Taron. I knew that intrinsically as I reached over and gently ran my fingers through Markus’ curls. He woke up and captured my hand in his, lifting it to his lips and kissing my fingers sweetly.

“Morning,” he smiled at me beatifically, tugging at my heart a bit. This is the person I should be with, I thought, but somehow there was a sadness that crushed me. I still did my best to muster up the good feelings I had with Markus and had an enjoyable breakfast with him before heading home, my tail figuratively tucked between my legs. I had failed my mission miserably, and I’d have to find a way to admit that to Taron too.

Once I was home I called Madison and begged her to come over and help me sort the mess of my life, and she was all too happy to oblige, bringing over tacos and chips and salsa which we gorged on as we talked, our legs tucked up under us on the couch.

“So let me get this straight. You went on this date to break up with Markus, and you slept with him instead?” she said, shaking her head and trying to hide her smile behind her fake sternness.

“For lack of a better explanation, yeah,” I said weakly. “He’s not a bad guy, Mads, and I can’t make him into one. He was so sweet and fucking handsome too and we just clicked really. One thing led to another and, well, you know.”

“Mmm, yeah, I don’t really but… Why be with a guy you don’t have feelings for?” she asked.

“But I do like him, and he gets me,” I said. “And he’s more on my level,” I added, and Madison rolled her eyes at me.

“But he doesn’t make your little heart pitter-patter like Taron does. You’ve told me that yourself,” she smirked around a bite of taco, half of the filling dropping back into the wrapper when she took a bite but she seemed none too bothered. Troy, however, lifted his head up from where he’d been laying on the floor and licked his chops, eyeing her food carefully.

“Yeah but maybe that’s just lust, I don’t know. Just because I want to jump his adorable little Welsh bones at every second doesn’t mean we’re in love,” I sighed. “I’ve made wrong decisions in the past, you know.”

“Oh, I know, Juliette. I’ve scraped you out of a few of those. But the thing is, you just really need to sleep with the guy and get that out of the way and then make your decision from there,” she said, making my jaw drop as I stared at her.

“Did you, innocent little Madison, just advocate for me to sleep with Taron?” I asked as she giggled.

“Well, you’re on unequal footing here. You’ve already done the deed with Markus. How can you compare the two when you haven’t had sexy times with your actor boyfriend?” she giggled. “Give him a little something,” she smirked, shimmying at me slightly until I threw a balled-up napkin at her.

“You’re the actual worst,” I laughed, and she just grinned.

“I’m invested in this now! I need to know what he’s packing!” she teased, making me blush hard.

“Shit, Mads, I’m not going to survive this,” I laughed, almost nervously.

“I have a feeling it will make your decision incredibly easy, that’s all,” she said, scooping up her taco fillings with a chip and shoving it all in her mouth.

“Let’s hope so, Mads,” I sighed. “I need a sign from the Gods.”

*********

The next week flew by in a bit of a blur, as we got ready for actual filming of the Honky Cat scenes. We did a few screen tests with our costumes and the lighting and sets, and I unfortunately managed to see myself on that screen test. When they say the camera adds at least 15 pounds they aren’t lying; I couldn’t stop staring at how chunky I looked in that bubblegum pink outfit. I needed to lay off the takeout and start eating more restrictively, that was for sure.

Even if Taron had whispered in my ear the sorts of things he wanted to do to me in that costume, and even if the other snotty girls still called me twiggy bitch when they knew I could hear them, I couldn’t help feeling a bit insecure. I’d be immortalized on film now, and the last thing I wanted was to forever hate how I looked.

Letting myself go had never been intentional, and I stood in front of the mirror in my unders and bra, scrutinizing myself extra hard that night, poking at my stomach and my thighs and my hip bones. Places I wished Taron would touch me, of course. Almost as if I had summoned him with that thought, my phone rang and I nearly tripped over my discarded jeans to get to my phone. “Heeey!” I answered, flopping on my bed unceremoniously.

“Tomorrow. You and me. It’s happening,” he said, and I gasped slightly before my brain caught up and I realized he just meant dinner. “I’ve weaseled my way out of night shoots because I can’t stand not having time with you for weeks on end. I was thinking we could have a nice dinner at Circolo Popolare if that suited you. I mean, if you had someone to watch Clara, of course,” he added in haste.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” I said a bit faintly, still reeling from the thoughts I’d just been having. “I miss you too, Taron, but you shouldn’t take time off on my behalf.”

“Nonsense, you’re my girl,” he replied, making me squeal internally to hear those words. “I’m also bloody exhausted. Dex could tell, so this was an easy decision. So after we finish Honky Cat tomorrow I’m free.”

“It’s the big tap sequence tomorrow. You sure you’re ready?” I teased lightly.

“I’ll smash it. After all I had the best mentor ever,” he said with a grin. I could just imagine the way his eyes crinkled up when he did that.

“Not going to lie, it will be nice to move on to something else. I randomly hum the lyrics all the time now, in the grocery, on the tube. It’s driving me and everyone else around me mad!” I laughed.

“Well then you’ll just get the next thing stuck in your head, but is it really a bad thing when it’s Elton?” he chuckled.

We chatted a bit longer but soon I was tucked away in bed, trying to fall asleep but too excited over my impending dinner with Taron - and what might happen after. The inevitability of it felt both intimidating and exhilarating at the same time. My period had been shorter than normal, only a few days and not so awful, but I figured that had to do with my sudden increase in physical activity, which made sense. Some elite dancers circumvented their cycles entirely for years until they finally slowed down, so it wasn’t an uncommon phenomenon. Either way, I was just happy to have that out of the way now and be able to fully enjoy my evening with Taron, whatever that entailed.

The next day of filming went as smoothly as possible but also felt excruciatingly slow. How Taron managed to keep up his energy through take after take after take was beyond me. But seeing him play off Richard and seemingly having the time of his life felt like a special thing to witness. Even when he tripped up their stairs he laughed at himself good-naturedly. I could see why all of his co-workers always spoke so highly of him. He kept everyone at ease and laughing between takes and was just truly a professional about the whole thing.

When Dexter called the final cut, all of us, actors and dancers, were none too happy to hang up our platform shoes. “See you in a bit, pick you up at 7?” Taron smiled at me, but I could see the exhaustion in the tight lines of his face. He trusted me enough to let me see him that way, beyond the performer he was to everyone else.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I grinned back, our fingers linking briefly when no one was looking before he wandered off to go talk to Dexter about something.

I hurried home and showered quickly, needing to rid myself of as much dancer sweat as possible and shaving every inch it was possible to shave, half-wondering if Taron even cared about that. I had a quick phone call with my daughter, who was safely stowed away for the night with my mum after Zayn had picked her up at school. I was seriously shocked at my ex’s newfound level of responsibility, even asking me for more time with Clara after having missed out on so many years of her life.

Once my hair was somewhat dry, I quickly tousled in some product to make my waves stand out and not look like such a frizzy mess, quickly did my makeup and changed my outfit about 13 times, figuring I was being completely silly because Taron had already seen me slouching around in leos and sweatpants. If he could think I was cute then, did it really matter what I wore to dinner? The place he’d chosen was mostly casual, so I finally decided on a pretty flowered blouse I loved and a cardigan and skinny jeans, and pulled those on over my lacy underthings just in time for the doorbell to ring and Troy to sound the alarm.

I grabbed my purse and managed to hold Troy back from attacking Taron when I opened the door. He looked simply beautiful in a fitted burgundy blazer, white tee and the tightest jeans known to man. They were probably skinnier than my own pair, and the thought made me giggle. “Hello beautiful,” he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek before patting Troy quickly. He offered his arm for the simple walk to his car, and I couldn’t help enjoying every little thing he did to make me feel special.

We made our way across town, arriving at the packed restaurant but Taron had wisely called ahead and made a reservation. The vibrant place was a sensory overload - There was a bank of windows that let plenty of the fading evening light in, but other walls were covered floor to ceiling in bottles of wine in every shape, size and color, while greenery, flowers and lights hung down from the ceiling. It was beautiful and overwhelming all at once. The food was much the same, the Sicilian fare both mouth-wateringly good and incredibly indulgent. I’d have to start my diet tomorrow, I thought, as Taron and I both tucked into carbonara pasta, burrata pizza and tiramisu. And oh the wines, though I was careful this time; no too-drunk rejections for me this time.

The company wasn’t half-bad either; I could stare at Taron all damn day if I was given license. We laughed and he was affectionate, touching my knee or my arm, leaning in to steal a kiss every so often, and generally being attentive and sweet. I was having a hard time understanding why I had ever given Markus a chance when I was with Taron. But there was still always a part of me that felt like I was an interloper in his world; like I was the lucky fan who had won a date on some reality show. I was borrowing my time with him and some day I’d wake up and find this was all too good to be true.

“Something troubles you?” Taron asked, breaking into my thoughts; I must have been frowning or something.

“Oh, no, I was just thinking,” I shrugged. “Not sure about what,” I said, as he gave me a measured stare.

“I have a feeling you know exactly and don’t want to divulge,” he said quietly, so I could barely hear him over the din of the restaurant. “I don’t want secrets between us, Juliette. You can tell me literally anything.”

“I know, Taron, and I’m grateful for that,” I smiled over at him. “We could take this somewhere else though,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking with sudden nerves.

“Sure, we could go back to my place for a small nightcap if you wish,” he offered, but I shook my head.

“I can’t forget about Troy, he’ll be needing let out,” I replied, and Taron playfully smacked his forehead as if to say “I forgot.”

“Of course, we’ll swing back around to your place then,” he said, and with that decided, he paid the tab and we headed out. We made small talk on the way back to my place, and I was relieved once we were distracted momentarily with my dog, tossing a ball and letting him eagerly fetch it in the back garden. The porch light deepened the shadows on Taron’s face and I couldn’t read his expression. Once Troy was done with his doggy business, we retired inside, as it was still cold in the late evenings. I found us some wine, which neither of us drank much of, and we settled in on the couch to talk.

“You didn’t end things with Markus,” Taron asked, interpreting my silence as such, and I cringed slightly.

“I was going to, but I chickened out of it, and I don’t know why, and I’m sorry. Because I thought you’d be mad at me. I know how you feel about him,” I started to explain.

“I’m not mad. If anything, he got to you before I did, really, but I am jealous. I don’t understand why someone else gets your heart,” he admitted.

“But that’s the thing, Taron, he doesn’t, not really. When I’m with you it feels so easy and so simple. But there’s a part of me that still doesn’t believe I belong with you. Like somehow the world will figure out I’m just an imposter by your side,” I said, biting the inside of my lip until I tasted blood.

“No one else gets to decide that for me. I rather like to think I decide who belongs in my life. I don’t understand why you think you’re not good enough. You could be a janitor or burger flipper for all I cared about what you do. It’s your soul that I admire, your spirit that you keep hidden from the world but that you let me see. It’s the way I feel safe with you to just let down the defenses, to stop being the performer. You bring peace to my soul in a way no one else has.” I gazed at him, my heart tripping through every possible emotion at lightspeed. How did he manage to make me feel more in a single sentence than I’d spent a lifetime trying to feel?

“Taron, I…” I tried to say, but my brain utterly failed me in that moment.

“You let me see into you, but all I see are walls. I want to be let past them, and I’m trying. I’ve been trying. I get glimpses through the cracks and I only want more. Open up to me, trust me, and I’ll give you everything I am, Juliette. You can have it, it’s all for your taking. I don’t ask for much but please just let me in.” He leaned in, cupping my face with his hands, brushing the fingertips over my cheeks, gazing so deeply into my soul I felt undone. “Please,” he pleaded with me again. 

All the past pain and mistrust, the hurt and mistakes, the being left behind and completely invalidated, the fear of trying again, rushed to the surface, but Taron was none of those things. He’d only ever sought to support me, and be kind to me, never asked for more than I could truly give, and put my needs before his own. The way he felt about me was purer than anything I had ever experienced; I knew without a doubt that he was sincere in every word he said to me. He wore his heart on his sleeve and now he was extending it to me. Take it, Juliette, I thought. What was there left to fear but the fear itself?

“Okay.” It was one simple word that would change the course of my life forever. Because it was then that I finally discovered what it was to truly find someone who couldn’t get enough of you, who complemented your soul in every way, who filled in the cracks and made you shine again.

When he brought our lips together, it was simple and sweet. He was still cupping my face as our breaths mingled, our eyes gazing into each other’s for that one moment that felt frozen in time. I could kiss Taron forever, and get lost in the feel of his lips against mine, and the way he looked at me like I was truly the only person in the world he saw.

I nudged his nose playfully with mine before kissing him back, a little more purposefully, my hands finding their way to the soft hair at the nape of his neck and he gasped slightly at that. We both wanted more from each other and it certainly hung in the tension between us as we deepened the kisses once again, his hands finding their way under the hem of my blouse and gently whispering over my skin. We weren’t going to stop this time, and there was no reason to now.

“May I?” he asked, tugging at the hem, and I nodded as he pulled the blouse up and over my head and set it aside gently. His gaze lingered for a long moment on my breasts in their lacy bra, and he had to take a steadying breath before going back to kissing me, nipping at my lower lip slightly before traveling his kisses along my neck again, right in the spots he had discovered I liked best, his fingers never leaving my skin either as he slowly leaned me back on the couch. He rid himself of his own shirt and though I’d seen his bare chest before, it wasn’t in this capacity, and I couldn’t resist reaching out and splaying my hands over his skin, a slight sheen of sweat already present and it only made him sexier to me.

He dropped his kisses lower, over the lace of the cups, making me gasp slightly before he reached around and unhooked my bra, sliding it down off my arms and tossing it unceremoniously somewhere. He heard it land and then Troy’s nails skittering across the floor and both of us had to laugh at that. “I think you startled my dog,” I giggled lightly before Taron shut me up completely by taking one of my nipples in his mouth, rolling it about with his tongue. I’d never felt that sensation before, and I moaned loudly despite myself. Holy shit, I was well and truly losing myself to him.

“Bedroom, now,” he said, pulling me up and holding my hand as we fairly raced to my room, half-naked and desperate for each other, knocking into the walls a few times as we tried to steal kisses from each other. He pulled me into more heated kisses as we both clumsily rid ourselves of our pants before falling into the bed together, his weight settling over me, pressing me into the mattress as he buried his face against my neck for a long moment.

“No turning back now, love,” he said softly, his teeth grazing along the shell of my ear and sending shivers along my spine.

“I want you, I’ve been wanting you. I have no doubts about this now,” I whispered. He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for a second but found no trace of doubt there.

His hand slid down my body, over the curves of my hips, before dipping below the waistband of my lacy panties and between my legs. I gasped at the same time he groaned, feeling how wet and ready I was for him. He captured my lips in another kiss before pulling those panties off me entirely, and then his boxers followed quickly after. I couldn’t help but stare, his erection springing up against his stomach, already glistening. “Bedside drawer,” I managed to choke out, as he reached over and fished out a condom and wasted no time in rolling it on.

He nudged my legs apart and settled himself between them, his thick cock nestled against my thigh. I keened softly in anticipation; he was so careful with me, so caring, as he lined his hips up with mine, slowly pressing his way inside me, letting me adjust, but oh the sensation was delicious. I wanted nothing more than to feel him filling me up completely, and I moaned out my pleasure as he joined out bodies together, his eyes dark with lust as he gazed down adoringly at me.

“Fuck, love,” he said roughly, holding himself up over me and looking about as undone as I felt before he started to move those glorious hips of his. There was no pain with him, only pleasure, and more than I’d ever really felt before. But there was something else happening, something in my heart unlocking, as we brought ourselves higher and higher. There was having sex, and there was making love, and now I finally understood the difference. Because Taron didn’t just want the physical act, he wanted to connect in a more meaningful way. 

Even as his hips snapped powerfully against mine, as he hit every delicious spot inside me and drove me wild, he also touched something deep inside my soul. Our climaxes built and we lost control with each other, our moans and grunts and groans ricocheting through the empty halls of my house as my orgasm rocketed into and through me first, and Taron not far behind. He collapsed on top of me, and I could feel his heart hammering away in his chest as we laid there, trying to come down from our highs. I gently ran my fingers through his hair, tears in my eyes, having experienced something I didn’t even have words to describe.

“You amaze me,” he finally whispered after long moments of us trying to catch our breaths.

“Not so bad yourself,” I teased him softly, as we shifted slightly on the bed so we were laying face-to-face, pulling the covers around us thanks to the chill in the air despite my heater being on.

“Juliette, I… I love you,” he said softly, caressing my cheek and looking like he was about to cry, which got to me slightly. “I knew it before but you’re the most incredible woman I have ever met in my life. I love everything you are,” he said, nuzzling his nose against mine sweetly, such a deep look of vulnerability in his expression tearing at my soul.

“I love you too, Taron,” I said, knowing it was 100 percent true. I didn’t have to worry over that feeling for days; it was bursting open in my heart right there. I wanted to spend every last minute I had with him, and give him everything; maybe even marry him someday. He loved me, he loved Clara, he loved my life and wanted to be a part of it; I could see it all spelled out so clearly in front of me. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a sleepy smile. He kissed me a few times, soft and slow and sweet. I felt loved and adored by him in everything I was.

We laid like that for a while before he slipped into sleep; he was so exhausted, I hoped he was resting well. I managed to not wake him as I got out of bed to take care of the house quickly, picking up our discarded clothes, putting the wine away, making sure Troy was settled and the house locked up tight, before slipping back under the covers with him. Even in his sleep he turned to me and wrapped an arm around my body, making me feel secure in that embrace. I loved him, the words and thoughts and feelings rolling through me in waves of light and color. I hadn’t believed it could be this way, but now I had experienced it. How had I ever thought settling for just okay was good enough?

I watched Taron’s sleeping face for as long as I could keep my eyes open, wanting to take it all in, the vulnerability and sweetness of his sleeping expression. I never thought I’d be one of those lucky women who had the privilege of seeing this but here I was now, skin to skin with him, his body heat keeping me warm, his tiny little snore endearing to me too. As I drifted off to sleep, I could only think how truly, madly, deeply I had fallen for Taron Egerton.

Will Juliette truly be able to move forward with Taron? Or will her secrets tear them apart? Keep reading to find out in Chapter 7 HERE!

[dinoalexander]

Your Moment of Zen: The Gourmet Academy’s Semi-Quotable 2020 Quotedown Quotetacular

The following blog entry are intended only for mature audiences. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Although it goes without saying about three quotes in, this is neither an incendiary nor defamatory tribute to the year past, although if someone were to put together such a “tribute”, I’d completely understand. Thank you. And enjoy the show. Because you helped make it.  Ladies and gentlemen and non-binary conforming life forms across seven star systems... the Gourmet Academy’s World Famous Get Down Like a Hound Party ‘til You Puke Semi-Quotable 2020 Quotedown Quotetacular begins in five... ... four... ... three... ... two... NOW. === “This video is dedicated to touching.” -Harry Styles “Welcome to America's last public gathering.” -Jenna Riedi, the host of Geek Bowl XIV “Daniel’s New Year’s Resolutions 1) say something so brilliant, so irrefutably mind-bogglingly wowful that it makes the Quote Wall 2) organize the basement.” -Daniel “Didn’t you used to be Bill Simmons?” -Greg channeling Justin Lollie “Something new? Shouldn’t be trying it but I’m d-e-d today.” -Carl “This could devolve into something amazing.” -Jeremy “Good feeling: a Patriots loss. Better feeling: a Patriots loss in the playoffs. Best feeling: a Patriots loss in the playoffs in Foxboro.” -Travis “You are the master of the swerve.” -Klaussie “There once was a man from Nantucket.” -Ethan “Neighbor and I both have our windows open, and I refuse to do one more thing tonight until I figure out which episode of “Cheers” she’s watching.” -Adam Nedeff “Is there anyway we can CGI Matt Lauer out and replace him with Christopher Plummer?” -Greg on Matt Lauer on SNL “What’s the favorite network of the 2017 Houston Astros? BUZZR!” -Klauss “Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, Lost her virginity to Tom Jones.” -Sara “That’s not unusual.” -Megan “Oh look, goats! (Whiff) Oh god, goats.” -Q “The Whiteface on the Joker poster is a pretty good representation on the Academy Award nominees this year.” -Gordon “If you spend your life with a paper bag over your head, do you also need to wear a mask?” -Kevin, on the Unknown Comic "He Gay - He Christmas in Macy's Window Gay" - Mercedeze - The Circle. “Spock is gonna slap your ass.” -Greg on Zach Quinto in “The Slap” “Smeargle!” -C “I’m at the Battle of Atlanta, usually I’M the one on fire.” -Greg as Time Traveling Rip Taylor “Sexual Game Show Chocolate.” -Cyndi’s nickname for Chico “He has exact change! What was I supposed to say.. No?!” -Q “WLTI has been brought to by the Tom Brady Laundry Service - when you need stuff to be washed and blown....you know where to go.” -JB “It’s like shitting in my hand and clapping.” -Q “Let’s do that GOAT.” -C “Does Q know you’re into bestiality?” -Chris • the subject: Jeopardy! The Greatest of All Time “In 2020 I’d like to set more things on fire.” -Megan “Tonight, William Shakespeare, Henry VIII, the sun god Ra, Archimedes, Rip Taylor, and Rudolph Valentino on the Loooooooove TARDIS.” -Greg as Ernie Anderson (hat tips to Mike & Chico). “Christmas Day: Email notifying me I don't need to come to the courthouse on Monday. Monday: Phone message notifying me not to come to the courthouse on Tuesday. Tuesday: Phone message notifying me not to come to the courthouse on Wednesday. Wednesday: Phone message notifying me not to come to the courthouse, period, because my week of service includes two holidays. For anyone who's never been called in for jury duty during a pandemic, I highly recommend the experience.” -Adam “This version of 2020 has a virus in it. Can I get it reinstalled?” -Catherine “Take care of y’all chicken.” -Marshawn Lynch“ No link, because (EXPLETIVE DELETED) that (EXPLETIVE DELETED).” -Joe “There’s the Wendy’s.” -C “Where where where where where?” -Q “There there there there there.” -C “The Houston Astros scandal has spilled into the world of game shows...evidence has surfaced that “Jeopardy!” contestants had wired buzzers at their podiums.” -Adam Nedeff “ "Having an English Accent in America is like having a 12" dick” -David, a contestant on Too Hot To Handle. “We are all Disney... and Disney is all of us.” -Kevin “Here comes this Donny Osmond-looking motherfucker.” -C “The coronavirus is the least dirty thing I’ve had in my hand. There’s not enough hand sanitizer in the world. That’s why I drink vodka.” -Michael "That bird just straight up moonwalked and died!" -Neumann “You think Jimmy Kimmel would buy the Walgreens brand?” -Q “I don’t make Jimmy Kimmel money!” -C “President Trump sent me a letter. I respond with fire.” -Kyle “Sense AND Sensibility? In this economy?!” -Liz “He committed the ultimate sin. He insulted the WWE in his promotion!” -Cyndi “Today was draggin’. It was very draggy. It was an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race. It was so draggin’ that Wink Martindale encourages me to avoid it. I was watching Dragon Ball Z in the cockpit of the Dragonzord while playing Double Dragon with Don “The Dragon” Wilson and listening to Sisqo’s Unleash The Dragon. Somebody better call Emilia Clarke, because, uh.... dragon .... joke.” -C “Name a people that animals breed.” -Bressler “Put your Facebook balls away, Karen. It’s unbecoming.” -Cindy “Pizza is yes.” -Drago, Animal Crossing New Horizons “Prahstitute.” -Klauss • the password was “hookah” “It was a one-eyed one-horned flying purple Power Ranger.” -Gordon “I'm gonna start painting people yellow and send their asses to Springfield because I'm seeing a LOT of Simps, SON!” -Katie “Bill Belichick took the box on the display floor and got a couple of plush dolphins...would’ve had a new car behind curtain #2.” -Carl “Twenty-one seasons of winners and not one of those faces looked like mine. So when I walked through those doors, I had that desire, that determination to be that very first face to give hope to those behind me who have the desire to come in here and play this game. Not seeing a face that looks like mine is very discouraging, it’s hurtful and it does make me feel like maybe it’s impossible. But I’m wrong about that because it’s definitively possible. We can do it. It just hasn’t been done yet… I want to acknowledge every African American who has walked through those doors with the same desire to be that face that I have. I see you, I salute you and I appreciate you. You came in here, you knew the odds were against you, you knew it was going to be an uphill battle and you still fought and you fought like hell. For that, I love you, I admire you and I acknowledge you all today.” -Da’vonne, Big Brother “Waldo should find himself. I don’t have that kind of time.” -@FunnyOrDie “What we wanted was Cam Newton. What we got was Wayne Newton.” -Gordon, right before everyone broke out into “Danke Schön” “You can go ahead and put "Nuh-uh! Don't eat Jesus, you monster!" on the list of things I didn't think I'd have to yell today.” -Wingo “Not only is he a chicken magnate, he’s also a chick... magnet. Amirite?” -Klauss“ Please excuse me if I don't participate in the Dolly Parton Challenge, but I'd rather my wife didn't know that I have a Tinder account.” -Prof. O “The table has had enough of your shit.” -Brian “If you work hard enough I’m sure someday you’ll reach the top of the intelligence bell curve.” -Jess’ insult “Any squirrel can find a nut once. Let’s see you do it again.” -Q “This is the kind of chaotic horniness I’m here for.” -Megan “Behold the power of the fat guy touchdown.” -Cyndi “It’s the kind of peppermint candy that can give me natural 20s.” -Jenni “The wonders.... of weed.” -Mary “Metallic testicles.” -Jimmy Kimmel “Well, it's 65° again today. I ran 3.5 miles yesterday so I chose to walk 4 today. If next year it is not 65° on this day in February, I'm quitting Ohio.” -Wingo “I see the Incelabteilung spent a productive weekend.” -Rick Wilson “You know why the RTF head writer is now hosting? Because he's now eligible to join the Actors Guild, which means he'll have potential work when 1. RTF goes down in flames, 2. The WGA agreement goes down in flames. 3.A combination of 1. 2. and RTF keeps trying to convince us that King Kong should be worth 1,250 points per ticket.” -Gordon “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” -Jessica “Of course any team could have had 14 players test positive for COVID three games into the season, but the fact that it’s an entire roster of Florida Man is just so obvious.” -Arianna “Anna Roisman is very much in love with her butt.” -C Phleb: Are you following me? Q: As if you’re cool enough to have a stalker. As IF you’re cool enough for that stalker to be me. “I’ve seen enough.” -JD “Okay Dave Wasserman.” -C -subject: NLCS “Curse your sudden but inevitable colonization!” -Blue from episode 2 of the Overly Sarcastic Podcast “I haven't watched the Super Bowl halftime show, but from the online conversation today it is clear that people do not know just how many layers of costumage it takes to look "naked" onstage. #Showbiz” -Shannon “Adolf Titler and Areola Braun.” -Kim “I don't follow sports at all, but "And then Florida screwed it up for everyone" is the least surprising thing I could have seen in the news.” -Adam “If you think 2020 has been wild so far, wait until the dragons are released in the finale!” -Bruce Q: “I need a lighter.” Clerk: “Which one?” Q: “I don’t care. As long as it produces fire.” “Today we say a not fond farewell to Adobe Flash....we will NOT miss you very much." -Carl “It’s ridicarus. It’s so ridiculous, it flies in the face of normality until it melts on the wings of its own ridiculousness.” -C “I’d like to be proven wrong 99 times out of 100,000.” -Cyndi “The wenches of Watson.” -G’s nickname for the Chasers “Paula Deen. I don’t give a toss about the woman’s politics. But there’s one thing that we both agree on. MORE BUTTER!” -Q “Do you think you could be my Korean food mule?” -Jenni, to Chico re: Korean restaurants  “This is what I told you about Travis. You’ve got to stop eating buffalo wings before you go to bed this is going to keep happening!” -Brian “The NFL Draft Takes way too long. If I wanted to watch 32 picks in 3 hours, I’d watch Jameis Winston play.” -TyFo “I think I’d win this easily.” -Greg, on “Too Hot To Handle.” “Hit me daddy, I’ve been bad.” -Q “I haven’t been bad, but hit me anyway.” -C “I hope a million Dodger babies are made tonight and their mamas name them all MOOKIE.” -Arianna “That’s tackier than a Louis Vuitton purse from downtown LA.” -Kimberly “Defense wins championships, but offense sells soap.” -Nikki “It’s like there’s nothing good on Netflix anymore.” -Alex Alvarez (Marcel Ruiz) on the Pop premiere of One Day at a Time “Let’s see what this bitch can do.” -C

“Man we have now been quarantined for 60 full days. Stuck inside with nothing but our families and our devices, filled with fear and anxiety. And we still don’t want to watch Quibi.” - Mike Shields (@digitalshields) “I love Peanut Butter. I love Africa.” - Bill Walton "So in the last 3 days Tom Brady has violated social distancing guidelines and broken into somebody's house. The media laughs it off. It pays to be white." - Barry McCockiner “BREAKING: I have decided to follow @James_Holzhauer on Twitter, since he’s been following me on Jeopardy all week.” - Ken Jennings “I was debating who had a worse night in Vegas — Mike Bloomberg or Deontay Wilder. I thought it was Wilder but it wasn’t. He didn’t have to show up a week later and get his ass kicked all over again. #DemDebate2020” - Jelani Cobb “What in the name of God’s ass is on Linda Dano’s head?” - Quisla “My 13 year-old self with my hero in Nov '83, Boston, MA. According to local legend Mr. (Tom) Baker toured the  sites at Lexington, and then Concord, site of the “shot heard round the world;" he strode up to the first American he saw and said “Sorry about all that you know!”” - @petervintonjr​ “At long last, our 4-year national nightmare is over & @SteveKornacki can finally get some sleep.” - Mark Hamill “I think I just saw The Greatest American Hero be a complete and utter perv.” - Chico “Not gonna lie. I kinda wished they'd filmed the Chicago production of Hamilton so I could see Wayne Brady kill Lin-Manuel instead of Leslie.” - @RealLordDalek “Thanks Jon, when we come back Denise is gonna go for $30,000 and I want to find out, really, if you take half of my ass and you put it on my bald head, if it’s going to create new hair. We’ll find out about that after this. ……. more after this.” - Mike Francesa’s evil Earth 47 Half Brother Louie Francesa played by Klaussie before the MG-HSH Super Match “Rebooting The Santa Clause where instead of Tim Allen killing Santa Claus and becoming Santa Claus, Santa Claus kills Tim Allen and becomes Tim Allen” - Bridger Winegar “Ted Cruz is in another Twitter war with Mark Cuban. As a coach I was always looking for mismatches. If I could ever find a mismatch as great as Cuban over Cruz the game would be easy.” - Stan Van Gundy “Just turned on the XFL.Kicker missed a field goal and they immediately interviewed him on the sideline asking what happened haha. That’s tough.” - JJ Watt “Jeffrey Toobin gave a whole new meaning to the word “laptop.” - Gerard Mulligan “No matter how gloom things things get, there's always the future, even the United States of America used to have a future. They tried to us Americans the sky’s the limit, so we destroyed the sky. Where’s your limit now? Oh! burning with toxic poison? Suck that limit!” - Xavier: Renegade Angel “Everything good espn ever did was copied from the George Michael Sports Machine.” - @mattamatic@allpro.social “How is the @WWE not calling this #Wrestlemania36 In Your House?!?!” - Marty DeRosa “When people complain about "cancel culture," they very often mean: I want to live in a world in which there are abundant social and economic rewards for saying and doing certain (but not all!) controversial things, and no social and economic penalties for those same things.” - David Frum “Herb Abrams left this world doing what he loved. Cocaine and hookers." - Brian Blair “Rats.. and I was looking forward to the empty arena NBA Team Challenge Series.” - Lollie “Wow breaking: Jay Glazer is reporting that cleatus the FOX NFL robot has been arressted for double murder outside a Houston strip club. Details to come” - PFTCommenter “Michael Moore is the Michael Avenatti of Anthony Scaramuccis.” - @blackbeltbirder “Will you accept this ass?” -Jason “The Bears are two tight ends away from a firefighter calendar.” -Cyndi “Come on, Quis. Plating is 5 points.” -C “They say you should spend three months income on your wife’s engagement ring. I spent June July and August from the summer that I turned 13… But in my defense it was a wet summer and I mowed a lotta grass, that should count for something.” -Brian (ladies....) “You can’t fuck with Ed Lover.” -Greg “You thought that it was bad now? Wait 25 years. Today's children are tomorrow's leaders; and they will have been have been homeschooled by day drinkers. Let that sink in.” -Q “Doo wah didn’t didn’t, dumb didn’t do.” -Ian “So we were talking about why cereal was invented.” -C “Y’all stop showing me The Needle. I have a visceral reaction to The Needle.” -Anne “Five dollars on a Daily Double? What are you doing, buying a sandwich?” -Q “Sometimes I wonder... what made you think that style of facial hair works for you?” -Mary Jane “Everyone’s a critic.” -C after someone closed the blood bank door after blowing his nose “You raise your kids, you will spoil your grandchildren. You spoil your kids, you will raise your grandchildren.” -Nikki “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.” -Joe’s son “Ctrl-F, am I right?” -Klauss “Mmm, mmm-mmm-mmm...” -Kim “I’ve been around enough mothers to know what THAT means.” -C “This is now the 5th straight night I've heard one man complain about another man's holes and balls. No one needs sloppy disorganized holes or balls. #pause.” -Gordon “You know... We grew up watching Kamen Rider & Super Sentai wanting to be masked heroes. Pretty sure this isn’t what I had in mind.” -D “Some of y’all have not been chased around the house by your sibling with a knife and it shows.” -Jenna “At least it wasn't real maple syrup. Based on the bottle and consistency it appears to be maple-flavoured sugar liquid spread.” -Dane, on Gritty drinking breakfast syrup “And who decides Lacey Chabert should be the voice of love? She was hardly the voice of Meg Griffin!” -C “That is one UGLY ASS FISH!” -Cat "CBD infused deep dish pizza now available at White Sox games." -Carl “Gordon Pepper You're a psychotic Macaulay Culkin? I fear and respect you.” -Dom “Now I don’t even have to leave my home to not watch a movie.” -Kevin, on HBOMax “Fuck your widgets.” -Klauss “I told Galileo to stop working on his telescope. He’s not fooling anyone!” -Greg as Time Traveling Rip Taylor “Chris Wallace failed so badly that Mike Wallace also failed, and he’s been dead eight years.” -Kevin “Yay for fat shaming.” -Amberlee “Philip Rivers: Miami Dolphin?” -Carl “I don’t have enough black leggings for this shit.” -Shannon “You ever have shrunken beef?” -G “Phrasing.” -Aaron “You put the brain in Vibranium.” -Matt Richards “Several flaws in his argument, most notably that while he is correct that the meat in boneless chicken wings doesn’t come from the wings, neither does it come from the “tender”. And chicken nuggets aren’t made from a chicken’s... um... nuggets. That said, it is Nebraska, and this is what happens in that God forsaken state when they cancel football.” -Kevin “I never got spanked. We were very good kids growing up. Dad threatened us a different way. He reminded us as he was a famous person if we screwed up we would see it on page 6 of the ny post.” -G “God’s perfect idiot.” -Ryan Reynolds “You can’t clean house with a filthy mop.” -Kevin "Four." -Course Manager Joe translating Sir Goph to the crowd at Holey Moley. “May (Tim Tebow’s) marriage last longer than Million Dollar Mile.” -C “They were so offended, they weren’t.” -G “Meanwhile I can't choose a fuck fish...” -Kimberly “I have questions.�� -Bressler “Do not insult the good name of Bowzer, damn it!” -Greg “Hiya Barbie! No Ken. He’s sold separately and I’m cutting unnecessary spending.” -Eden as Barbie “I’ll be at the bench if you need me. Please don’t need me.” -C as David Tennant as Scrooge McDuck “Fayetteville gonna Fayetteville.” -Jordan “Why you gotta go make good employees angry? You think another decent phleb is just gonna pop out of nowhere like a State Farm agent? ... 🎵 Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there! 🎵 POOF!” -C “I like my men like I like my commuter car: silent.” -Robin “The fact that I had to put "Real Email -- Not Wingo SPAM" in an email subject line tells you a lot about how I comport myself with my colleagues.” -Wingo “Savage Question Song! Y’all fucking FUCKED UP! YOU FUCKED UP! YOU GOT IT WRONG! YOU ARE DUMB! No, I’m kidding, you’re not dumb. You fucked up, it happens. That’s life.” -Matt Richards “You know, bucatini. It’s like spaghetti... with goals.” -C “Love like you’re Jesus Christ. Wash your hands like you’re Pontius Pilate.” -Brian “Show me on the tackling dummy where the illegal touching happened.” -Nikki “Get cable. Discover Disney Junior. Muppet Babies. Weird. So weird. #NotMyMuppetBabies.” -Paul  “Take the swabs. Leave the cannoli.” -C “Facetyfacetyfacetyfaaaaaaaace!” -Nikki “If you win, you may smoke it. WHEN you lose, you must eat it. I don’t make the rules.” -Erskine “The internet discovers that Wendy Williams is a terrible person once a week.” -Adam “¡Carajo! Errbahurr!” -me, upon looking at a full parking lot “In these increasingly uncertain times, I want to be absolutely clear on something. I never *don't* want pizza. It is never a bad or inappropriate time for pizza. I will never, in any way, be displeased by receiving pizza. And, at no time in my life, will I ever say "no, that's fine, personally I don't want any pizza." I hope I have made myself clear.” -Brian “That’s a terrifying prospect. Goddamnit, I’m in.” -Kimberly “My dream from December 2020 involved a previous neighbor and his two-mouthed dog. Not two-headed, but two mouthed. Imagine a Doberman crossed with a Big Mac.” -Evil Travis “Sounds like SOMEONE is jealous of the awesome sex her witch friends are having, just saying. #StellaImmanuelOnlyDoesMissionary” -Shannon “Why does Ken Jennings get applause for his use of a buzzer during championship rounds but the Astros are vilified? That’s Double Jeopardy in more ways than one!” -Jess “That's Roman's new move...the Bowel Movement" -JB After Roman tips Corbin over in the potty during Royal Rumble “Smoke my weed.” -Kyle “Tomorrow on Personal Injury Court: "You destroyed my vagina!" Me: "Continue."” -Klauss “Vernon Valley/Action Park on line one.” -Gordon’s one-line review of “Cannonball” “There’s no substitute for good old fashioned know-how.” -Prof. O “So a coworker says she’s pro-gun, pro-God, pro-LEO, pro-Trump, pro-life and that all lives matter. I say to her, quoting Colin Firth, ‘I’m a Catholic whore who is currently enjoying congress out of wedlock with my black Jewish boyfriend who works at a military abortion clinic. So hail Satan, and have a lovely afternoon, madam.’ See? I can flex for rubes on social media, too.” -C “Boy. Smoke really let himself go.” -Caleb “SUPER MATCH on tonight’s MGHSH: ______ LOVER $1000: Red Hot $500: Lousy $250: Latin.... I’ve been called all these things. At the same time.” -C “BREAKING: Massachusetts Lottery names Tom Brady its spokesman for its new lotto game -- Pick 6.” -Doug “If music be the food of love, then umami is the food of food!” -Heather “We already have artificial intelligence in the announcers booth… His name is Joe Buck.” -Brian “I don’t have the time or the crayons to show you how you did that wrong.” -Q “Okay so about Herve Villechaize’s dick.” -Klauss “Sharon after two Proseccos is the funniest motherfucker alive.” -Matt Richards “There’s tired, and then there’s Disney tired. He’s worn out!” -Terrie “Who the fuck is Mickey Rooney?” -Greg’s older brother when he was 8 “Remember, exercise causes endorphins. Endorphins make you happy....” -Michael “And happy people don’t kill their husbands.” -everyone  “Peace, love, dope! Now get the hell out of my house!” -Evil Travis “My sister is being disgusted!” -Shannon’s sister “I already have my picks to replace Condfederacy monuments/statues and other members of the slave trade/colonialism. 1. Spock 2, Any Pokemon 3. Columbo (Specifically for Christopher Columbus) 4. The lead singer of GWAR 5. Dolly Parton” -Dane “Having said that, KEEP STAYING INSIDE. Let’s put this in easy terms: did you ever have a teacher say “If you’re good the entire week, we’ll watch a movie in class on Friday”? And when you made it to Thursday, everybody kind of had an eye on the dipshit in the class who was probably going to screw it up for everybody? Okay, right now, as far as COVID goes, it’s Thursday. Keep an eye on Adam. Or...I mean, whatever the kid’s name was in your class.” -Adam “I'm at the level of drunk where everything is HILARIOUS and I'm very pleased with myself... now I’m having a second drink and wearing this VERY NECESSARY hat.” -Arianna “May your 2020 be like ABC’s, shaky at first, but getting stronger.” -BB “A bunch of Goofuses and nary a Gallant.” -Ian “Hard and Stormy - the next pornhub film from Michael Avenatti.” -JB after Chico tried mistakenly to say “Dark and stormy” “With a name like Joe Exotic, expect more fingers than teeth.” -Chico re: Tiger King “I’d rather offend someone by showing up, by trying to understand and trying to care, than offend someone by not showing up, by refusing to understand and for appearing indifferent.” -Christina “If you feel the need to throw shade from behind an anonymous Twitter account... Don’t. Say it to my face or don’t say it at all. Don’t waste my time. It’s 2020. We’re not on here wasting people’s time. Stop it.” -Anne “His shake brings nobody to the yard.” -Jess re: HQreeper “Did Bill Cullen do Blockheads?” -Q “OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!” -C "I do normally have energy, but I did just win the Space Jam, so..." -Neumann “So watching the NFL Playoff game and my first thought is that I wonder how the Houston Astros were able to show the Texans how to steal all of the KC Chiefs' signals from their playbook.” -Gordon “Does anybody here have a dollar?” -C “No but I have a chicken!” -Q “You know what borders on insanity? Canada and Mexico.” -Chelsea’s friend Cathie “A 1 followed by 100 zeroes is known as a Googol. A 1 followed by 1,000 zeroes is known as the number of e-mails you will receive from 1-800-FLOWERS in the week leading up to Valentine's Day if you've ever bought even one bouquet in your life.” -Adam “I think I hate everything and everybody, so I’m going to get drunk on beer that’s been brewed in an old sheep carcass and then I’m going to stick my tiny penis in a dead dog I found in a ditch to make hate-babies or something because I am actually more stupid than mud.” -Alucard, impersonating Trevor Belmont, Castlevania “10/10 for entertainment and entry level gaming abilities. Gratuitous gore and endless ammunition. You will literally cry from laughing. Especially if you're as good at being bad at it as I am.” -Becca “I’m trying to eat better. After work today I’m going to have myself a nice salad. That’s right a nice Caprese salad with tomatoes and mozzarella cheese, and croutons… Well OK one crouton… One very large round crouton. Pizza. I’m going to order a pizza.” -Brian “Coming to theaters in January 2021: 2Jeopardy 2 GOAT.” -Evil Travis “You overthought it!” -Michael “You know me, Michael. Overthinking is kinda my thing.” -C “I had a baby.... in my king cake.” -Kathryn “hear me out: a cross between a heating pad AND a weighted blanket. *become* the hot pocket.” -Chelsea “Guessing both Foxes (New Fox & Disney) are catching onto the reality that Seth (MacFarlane) only has one idea, which he keeps trotting out in different disguises.” -Kevin “How’s your Wednesday?” -Wingo “Oh you know, places to go, people to see, lives to save, asses to cover. You know, a Wednesday!” -C “That’s why I don’t hold grudges, because I can’t remember shit.” -Joey “Brainvision has been brought to you by the Fire Me Please Sporting Division Showdown! Who will win? The Cleveland Browns? The Houston Astros? The NJ Devils? The NY KNicks? It will be fun to find out! That's the Fire Me Please Sporting Division SHowdown!” -Gordon  "I have sent a dick pic. I didnt mean to do it. Mom, I'm sorry.” -contestant on The Circle “You can make excuses or you can make game moves. Pick one!” -C “He who hesitates is sacked.” -Nikki on Tua “Merry Crimbo!... I mean, Merry Chrysler!... I mean...” -Statboy “Welcome to this edition of “Faith in Humanity”, brought to yo by Bleagh. 🤮” -Gordon “Ass trumps feet, count it.” -VRM “On the Season Finale of St. Patswhere, Chief Surgeon Brady suddenly realizes that time has caught up to him and can't accurately perform like he as done in years past. Director of Medicine Belichick talks to his staff and is irate that instead of researching Vrabel-Tannehillitis, they brought him documents on Bunglaria. He punishes them by making them work on back cases and organizing them by bacteria count. In the operating room, time is not on the side of the staff as the patient is also suffering from Henry Syndrome where he rushed for 182 yards and a touchdown. To further accentuate the problems, Belichick finds out that Vrabel-Tennehillitis eats up the time left in the patient, despite his efforts to make time stand still. With time running out, Brady tries to push through his decline and makes a dangerous surgical operation. Sadly, the operation would turn to be fatal for the patient as Brady slips and cuts through vital organs and the scalpal is intercepted by the heart. The patient dies on the table and leaving both Brady and Belichick wondering if they still have what it takes in this new era of medicine. Will our dynamic duo return? find out next season...on St. Patswhere.” -Cyndi “That looks nothing like Tom Villard.” -Mike, anytime someone mentions Chris “Captain America” Evans as “America’s ass” “Okay, no no no no stop halt quit it cease desist. I will sign off on an Anglicized live-action remake of Ranma 1/2 before I approve of this.” -me reacting to a Fresh Prince reboot “Welcome to the Absolutely Fucking Crazy Championship game! With your analysts Tom Brady and Lamar Jackson. Tom: “Hey Lamar, how come we’re not playing in this game?” Lamar: “Cause we suck, man!” • Carl “Politicians are temporary. Wu-Tang is forever.” -@PressedNC “Coffee is not meaningless. Coffee is everything.” -LiyaZee “in the grand scheme of things, aren't we ALL between a sex store and a crematorium?” -Chelsea “You can cancel the show. You can not. Cancel. The culture.” -Chico “Go be bitter elsewhere.” -Hannah “Happy holidays ... and you’re welcome.” -Wayne Brady.... after telling us he’s not wearing underwear. === May our collective 2021 not suck as much as this year did. Seriously, I tried to burn my calendar and it wouldn’t burn.  Anyway, here’s to 2021... Come together, just think of tomorrow. 

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #164: To Fall By Treachery!

October, 1977

Oh hey look!

Whirlwind, Living Laser, and Power Man Not That One! Apparently the theme of this iteration of the Lethal Legion is The Worst.

Then again, the previous version was run by Grim Reaper. So maybe every version of the Lethal Legion is just terrible.

What even qualifies these guys to be the Lethal Legion? Sure, two of them were in the previous incarnation but I don’t think Grim Reaper okayed any franchising. The man is very particular about intellectual property.

Not much to say about the cover. A cool enough battle scene with the Lethal Legion kicking the Avengers’ collective asses. Except for the POV person.

Maybe the Avengers would be doing better if Hank Pym had stayed Ant-Man. Because lets be honest: Ant-Man? Kicks ass. Yellowjacket? Largely ineffectual.

Anyway, lets begin.

WITH FANSERVICE.

He’s single, ladies and gentlemen.

Anyway again, with a filler the previous issue, the Avengers have finally gotten some quiet days to relax, heal, and clean up from the previous several catastrophes.

Now the Avengers can finally look into what is even the deal with Wonder Man. He was raised as a zombie due to the Grim Reaper’s scheming but regained his own memories somehow. During the Grim Reaper’s attack, Wonder Man revealed that he wasn’t quiet human anymore, with eyes that crackled with energy. Ultron’s encephalo-ray had only a temporary effect on him due to this.

So whats the deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeal??

Well. He’s become a creature of living energy. His cells are like miniature fusion reactors more than living tissue. Even though his body seems to simulate normal life-signs and functions, he has a totally unique physiology (for now).

He probably wasn’t even dead those years he was dead! Confusing, I know. But perhaps it would be better to say that he was dormant and... metamorphosing. Like a beautiful ionic butterfly.

These answers come from a scientific huddle between Tony Stark, Beast, Black Panther, Yellowjacket, and Alice the lady biochemist.

Her last name is apparently Nugent and she becomes Doctor Spectrum at some point. The things one learns when one just wants to know if a character has a last name.

Anyway, Beast was part of this scientific mosh-pit but he cuts out early, feeling superfluous. Why would Tony Stark even call in a lady bio-chemist? Doesn’t he know that Beast worked in a bio-lab and also is currently insecure about his usefulness to the team?

Doesn’t help that because Beast was too busy making jokes, Black Panther got to all the best exposition before he could.

So basically Beast is feeling underappreciated and useless.

This kind of goes back a ways. Not only has Beast felt useless on the team due to being knocked out or kidnapped or whatever so many times, he also feels like everyone is judging him by his cover and forgetting what he can do. Told to carry heavy things. Yelled at for joking. Disregarded when actual science stuff happens.

Things have gotten so bad he actually misses Patsy, where before he seemed to resent her presence.

I miss Patsy too.

Anyway, can anything break Beast out of this funk? Maybe a dozen hot dogs with mustard.

Except no. The cart guy runs when he sees a blue gorilla man in a trenchcoat very politely attempting to engage in commerce.

WILL NOTHING BREAK BEAST OUT OF HIS- wait what’s happening.

A mob of women has spontaneously manifested to fangirl over Beast. Just clamoring and trying to touch his fur and he has the biggest shit eating grin.

I guess these girls don’t hate and fear mutants. Although its my theory that the Marvel universe is just full of furries because Tigra faced a very similar response in issue #215 when she was on the Avengers roster.

People in the Marvel U just love people with a full-body fur coat.

And are rudely handsy and slut shamey. For shame, the Marvel public.

ANYWAY. Believe it or not, Beast getting his esteem back via effusive female appreciation actually ties into the plot.

A mysterious monocle man with an N ring drives by the growing crowd and hopes that Beast doesn’t recognize him. OH IF ONLY HE DIDN’T HAVE TO DRIVE HIMSELF LIKE SOME KIND OF PROLE.

But, yeah, no, Galactus could run by and Beast wouldn’t notice it right now. You’re good, monocle guy. Well, not morally. You know what I mean.

Monocle man heads to the docks to meet up with... POWER MAN (no not that one).

But the original. The cheap knockoff version of Wonder Man. Eric Josten. He who did a crime and destroyed the Avengers just because he was smitten with Enchantress. And then quit crime because she abandoned him. And then recrimed because Black Widow told him to. And also was in the first Lethal Legion even though there were no morally dubious ladies to tell him to. That Power Man.

Wanna know something hilarious? Between then and now, Luke Cage beat the shit out of Josten for possession of the Power Man name. And Luke Cage doesn’t even really like the name. Perhaps beating up Eric Josten was reward enough.

Eric Josten doesn’t like being reminded that he lost his own, uninspired name and hucks a crate weighing tons at Mysterious Monocle Man, or Count Nefaria for short.

Count Nefaria would be dead and this story would be a lot shorter had he not been smart enough to hide behind a hologram.

He offers to increase Josten’s power should he agree to be in his employ and dang but Josten is impressed by this dude not getting crushed by a crate. He’s in.

Count Nefaria sets him his first task: breaking two others out of prison. We can guess who because they are on the cover.

SEVERAL DAYS LATER, the Whizzer is relevant to this book again.

He’s listening to the news, as old people are wont to do, and not being retired very well. For example, he reads about a prison break and wonders if the Avengers will need help corralling the escapees. And hears about a bank robbery that the police are helpless to stop and immediately springs into action, getting into costume and racing towards the door.

And nearly kills Scarlet Witch.

She was coming to visit his old man self because at this point, he’s still her dad. And to avoid running over her, he slams himself into a wall. ... I know people prefer Magneto as the twins’ dad but are we absolutely sure that this man isn’t Quicksilver’s dad?

Anyway, Wanda starts yelling at him for almost dying again. Whats he doing risking having another heart attack and going out to fight bank robbers? You’re retired, the Whizzer! Tony Stark gave you a nice, undisclosed job and you have a nice home and at least one child who visits! Relax and enjoy your retirement!

And then she steals the bank robbery all for herself.

Also, we finally get the retcon for that time Scarlet Witch flew with Wanda wishing she still had that experimental flying belt she was testing for Stark. Everyone get that? EXPERIMENTAL FLYING BELT. But it didn’t work so we’ll never see it again.

Plot hole filled.

At the bank robbery, the obvious suspects are bank robbering. Living Laser, Whirlwind, and Villain Formerly Known As Power Man. But they are bank robbering on Count Nefaria’s orders.

Hmm... why would a richie rich hire supervillains to rob a bank? Or drive his own car?

But no time to wonder about that. This is an Avengers book so lets see some Avengers. Lets see some Avengers entering the scene by smacking Living Laser in the face with a shield.

Because if there’s one constant its that Living Laser definitely deserves to get hit in the face with a shield.

Although. I’m not sure whats wrong with Hank Pym here. He’s all standing not shrunk but telling Cap he’ll totally shrink on command but why wouldn’t he already be shrunk? Wasp is already shrunk. She knows where its at.

So this is a fight.

Power Man charges forward and WHAM!s Cap before he can get his shield back.

Weirdly, Cap doesn’t recognize him. Despite Power Man embarrassing the kooky quartet and being the impetus behind Cap rage-quitting the team like a Hawkeye.

... So maybe that’s why he doesn’t recognize him. On purpose.

Apparently Hank did finish those power-ups to his and Jan’s powerset he promised to do before he got amnesia because he and Wasp are faster than ever.

Nearby, Black Panther squares up against Whirlwind because... ...? I guess he probably has the best reflexes on the team. Or maybe they have a grudge match because of that one time they fought in a garage.

Anyway, Whirlwind puts the spin cycle on Black Panther.

Geez. Its like when a cat grabs the pull cord for a ceiling fan.

Cap breaks off to catch him which loses the Avengers the advantage since Living Laser is able to recover.

Remember, he once took over a South American country. He was a big deal in his intro issues and a significantly less of a big deal anytime else.

Free of distractions and standing in front of the Perez store, Living Laser prepares to atomize both Cap and the Panther when suddenly Scarlet Witch enters the fight and is MVP again.

I’m digging that she’s consistently so competent recently.

She causes a water main to break, geysering Living Laser up into the air, and causing thousands in property damage that Tony Stark will probably have to pay for.

Huh. Its not clear whether this is her upgraded control of nature powerset or the probability manipulation one. It could go either way.

With Scarlet Witch evening and perhaps bamboozling the odds, Power Man convinces the other two that its time to go. Living Laser melts the street into tar to slow the Avengers’ pursuit.

So the Avengers don’t even bother. Cap decides its too risky for Yellowjacket and Wasp to pursue alone. There will be another chance to get those goofs.

In the meantime, he reflects that the team has been falling short of its rep lately. A subject which he has a lot of bitter, unspoken words about.

Meanwhile, in a secret laboratory, Nefaria has wind blowing his cape indoors. Perhaps small vents set near the floor.

Anyway, there are some scientists. And they are working on something called Project N because of course Count Nefaria would have a Project N.

These scientists were in Nefaria’s employ when last he showed up and tried to blackmail the world with a Doomsmith Command System because the obvious step up from weirdly squeamish Not-Mafia leader was Obvious Bond Villain.

He was stopped by the X-Men but Thunderbird died stupidly and pointlessly, punching a jet to death.

The scientists quit when Nefaria couldn’t pay them, having gone bankrupt on his Obvious Bond Villain scheme but now he has bank robbery money to get them their back pay so they’ll finish the project for him.

One of the scientists even helped design the machine Zemo used to create Wonder Man and later Power Man.

And speaking of Power Man, those three idiots Nefaria duped into working for him are the ideal subjects for the project.

DUN DUN DUN?

Oh and once the Lethal Legion has exhausted their usefulness and Nefaria has sent them off to their doom, he will enjoy “dismissing” the scientists. A phrasing that none of them decide is at all ominous nor do they draw a connection between themselves and the other lackies that Nefaria just said he was going to get rid of.

I mean, look at this. Look at how the lettering changes for that line. He is definitely going to kill them and is only being slightly subtle about it.

Whats that thing about the difference between Intelligence and Wisdom as DnD concepts again?

Meanwhile upstairs, the Lethal Legion squabble. Because most villains dislike each other. I think its a matter of big personalities.

For example, Living Laser is complaining that bank robbing is beneath him. And fair enough. His MO tends to lean more towards pointless destruction and coups. Whirlwind doesn’t like to work for anyone else. Plus, this mansion is dusty and there are no servants so Whirldwind correctly deduces that Nefaria has gone broke and is using the three of them to steal him some quick, easy cash.

But Power Man believes that Nefaria is going to boost their powers and doesn’t think the other two should be so high and mighty when he had to break them out of jail.

Before this verbal spat can escalate, Nefaria calls them down to the lab to totally increase their powers swearsies.

The next day, the Avengers sit around and gossip.

Even though Iron Man is the Avengers Chairman he’s been awfully absent lately. Sure, his employer (how did anyone ever fall for this?) Tony Stark has been having troubles but that’s no excuse! The Avengers need their leader in this trying time!

And Captain America intends to discuss that very subject! Once they have quorum. DEMOCRACY!

Beast finally shows up and brings them up to quorum. He’s been missing for two days but hey, bright side, he’s in a lot better mood.

Captain America: “Beast! Where have you been for the past two days?”

Beast: “Well... I promised Barb, Sue, Melanie and Paty I wouldn’t tell -- but it was a gas!”

Has Beast just come back from an orgy? He’s gone for two days, in the company of several women who presumably were the ones who were groping him on the street, and he smugly insinuates that he’s not going to kiss and tell.

(Fun? Fact: Paty is a reference to Paty Greer, a Marvel artist and Head of Production. That’s, uh, an interesting way to cameo a coworker.)

I can’t believe that this is where Beast’s insecurity plotline was heading. Or rather, I could because I’ve read these issues before, but if I hadn’t I can’t believe that this is where Beast’s insecurity plotline was heading.

I’m not even mad.

Oh anyway suddenly a car is thrown in through the window.

The Lethal Legion have returned for a rematch.

Cap tells the Avengers to hang back until they can be sure that the injured Wasp is okay then they can attack as a group. TEAM WORK, y’know?

But Power Man inadvertently activates Wonder Man’s McFly button by calling the Avengers cowards for not immediately leaping at people who threw a car at them.

I mean, he couldn’t have known that Wonder Man has been dealing with a fear of death, not eased by learning he didn’t even actually die the first time.

Actually, that’s what has Wonder Man so nettled in this particular instance. Power Man went through the same process he did but he didn’t pay the same price Wonder Man did. He didn’t die. He didn’t become some inhuman (but not Inhuman) thing. So fuck you Power Man, you can’t be as strong as Wonder Man because you haven’t earned-

WHUMP!

Yeah. Wonder Man that wasn’t the most brilliant move right there.

Of course, one setback and Wonder Man’s confidence shatters and he’s hesitating in battle again. Of course freezing up in the midst of three supervillains is REALLY ILL-ADVISED.

So despite Cap’s tactical plan going to blork he figures heck with it, charge anyway.

And having draped an unconscious Wasp over his arm and declared that medically there’s nothing more he can do for her, Yellowjacket leaves her and joins in. Also, calls dibs on Power Man. Because that’s how superheroics work.

Usually superheroes also stop crimes instead of waiting for people to attack them at home but the Avengers flipped the script.

Beast leaps at Whirlwind and clings to his back. And manages to hold on despite the spin cycle! Good job Beast!

But then Power Man just peels him right off Whirlwind and punches him into the horizon. If this comic weren’t a coward, he would have made the Team Rocket twinkle.

At least now he’ll be air dried after running through the wash.

Power Man then goes looking to finish off Wonder Man. Professional rivalry or some such? But Yellowjacket intercepts him because he’s got Dibs. And he also enhanced his supersuit by integrating his disruptor gun into the suit powered by his shoulder wing vibrations.

See, now the giant shoulder wings aren’t completely pointless!

Actually, I think he uses them to fly? But I like to think it was mostly ornamentation. Like some nice rims on your car? Because the Yellowjacket suit was originally designed when Hank was going through a chemical induced disassociative middle life crisis episode?

But So Last Season strikes so soon and while Yellowjacket’s disruptor blast hurts Power Man when he thought nothing could hurt him, it isn’t enough to stop him.

It is enough to make him really peeved so now Yellowjacket goes crush, okay? And next, Luke Cage!

And then Power Man’s muscles go all rubbery and he falls over with the slab he was hoisting falling on top of him.

Wonder Man is a bit bummed. He should have been able to take him out from the start. What kind of hero was he that he couldn’t beat up everything forever the first try?

The Avengers really need a therapist on staff. I think being able to talk to someone about these things would help instead of just bottling it up. Or Wonder Man can do what Beast did to improve his esteem.

Anyway, Living Laser and Whirlwind also find themselves with superpower performance problems and Black Panther and Scarlet Witch take them out easily.

Black Panther is not afraid of flipping off a gift horse though and claims that he totally could have beaten Living Laser either way. I mean, probably. That’s his function as a hero in these books. To win, either way, eventually.

And more of Scarlet Witch’s power confusion. I don’t think hurling a bench at someone is really tapping into natural power but also what probability are you altering so a bench just launches itself across a street?

Seconds later, Beast shows up. That is an amazing rate of speed. He was tossed into the horizon! He really booked!

Anyway, despite what Black Panther said earlier, now he’s saying they were cheated of their victory against the Lethal Legion. The Lethal Legion were someone’s dupe and sent them here to be defeated. And beating up villains gift-wrapped for you doesn’t count as a win in Black Panther’s book, no sir.

Perhaps things change later but this kind of cements these thing villains as goofuses. Power Man was already there, having lost his name to Luke Cage. Living Laser was pretty much there too. Despite stealing the Serpent Crown, his second big outing against the Avengers left him an afterthought to his stolen superpowered tyke bomb. And Whirlwind got shot in the nipple once by Yellowjacket. So, okay, maybe they were always goofuses. But this cemented it by making them patsies too.

Oh and the Avengers don’t have to wait long for the other shoe to drop as a giant shock wave makes a sine wave out of the street, tossing the Avengers hither and yon.

BU-THOOM!

The non-secret mastermind of this whole thing shows his face. Again. To the Avengers. We’ve seen him before in this issue and they’ve seen him before a LOOOOOOOONG time ago, back when he believed in the silliest of plans and not personally murdering people.

And like an RPG boss or a pokemon, Nefaria has evolved into a stronger form: EVIL SUPERMAN.

I mean, we’ll get into it more later but basically evil Superman. One of Marvel’s many.

I like his cape askew. Its distinctive but also ludicrously pretentious. That and the giant N on the belt makes this pretty peak Nefaria.

Oh and he’s totally going to kill the Avengers. Yeah. He no longer has qualms about dirtying his hands. With murder blood.

I’ll have further Nefaria thoughts at the end of this story.

Next time: EVIL SUPERMAN

[existence-overwhelming]

A Glimpse

"When you're alone is when you can count your friends."

Having sat in the attic and gathered dust for half a decade, it had been a welcome change to have the twit, Courage, return. It was refreshing to have someone capable of producing inquiries and conversations that didn't revolve around vinegar-based cooking recipes. And it had been made even sweeter when the now adolescent nitwit had expanded horizons, a greater vocabulary, and an educated mind. Now he could measure up to the tiniest fraction of what his computer knew. It, the computer, even appreciated the organic water bag's presence, although it would never admit it. For a week following his return, the computer actually felt content with its sedentary existence, just as it had once before Courage's departure.

But then, out of nowhere, the twit had up and vanished. Gone-utterly and completely. The computer hadn't felt angry or disappointed or saddened, it lacked such organic weaknesses. However, it did feel curiosity. It felt curious as to why such a softhearted simpleton would ever want to disappear, seemingly without a trace, from a place he obviously enjoyed. The computer dedicated several layers of its immense attention, over the lapse of two weeks, simply to reason and speculate and then fabricate a roster of people Courage faced over the years that were likely responsible for his disappearance. It found the sheer number of people that would want the twit dead amusing. Then another day was spent on narrowing the list through cross-referencing and simple logical reasoning. And on the second day of the adolescent's third week of continued absence, at last, the computer had narrowed everything into a tidy list comprised of no more than five people, one organization, and a gang. If given more time, it knew that the list could be made even shorter, but something interrupted the process-the arrival of a person it hadn't expected to make a reappearance.

Due to the restriction it had to the immediate vicinity of the room, it was set up in, it hadn't known a visitor arrived at the farm until she strode into the room. It didn't even get the chance to fully assess and subsequently formed speculations on her sudden visit, because, without a word, she approached its platform with a purposeful gait before taking a seat on the rickety wooden chair scooted under an equally shoddy wooden table. She then put her hand together and rested her chin on them, elbows and forearms propping up her head, as her facial features sat heavy with a look of contemplation. The woman, who bore a vague semblance to a feral feline, remained silent and motionless for several minutes, and at no point did she give the computer an inkling about her purpose or identity; though it vaguely recalled Courage making a diary entry regarding a woman of a similar appearance. So, diverging from the norm, it would be the first to start the conversation.

On its dull blue screen popped a nondescript chat box that stuck out from the normal blue hue of the monitor, as it was a mixture of white borders and black boxes that eventually would contain white text. Near the top began a sentence, the start of what the computer hoped to be both an explanatory and enlightening conversation. It read in a bland and angular font, {If I may be bold, exactly who are you and why are you here?} Upon its completion, a small interface popped up near the bottom of the window. Suffice to say, the entire thing left the woman bemused-the computer found it comedic. It watched as she jerked back in response to its question, then slowly recompose herself as she seemed to deliberate on what the appropriate course of action was for dealing with its inquiry. After a short lapse of idleness, she finally decided on what to do: hesitantly take to the keyboard and type a response to its question.

{Who is this? How did you get onto Courage's computer?}

The computer detested organics who answered a question with a question, an ignorant one at that. From its tower came a low humming sound: its version of a sigh.

{I do so despise explaining what I am to twits like you, so I opt not to do so-just know that I am a... an acquaintance with the organic known as Courage.} A small part of its synthetic consciousness took pleasure in the comical visage of anger and irritation that formed on the woman's face. {Now, I ask once more, who are you and why are you here?}

A minute passed before the woman managed to regain the motor functions required to make use of a keyboard.

{I'm sorry but I don't give out personal information to strangers on the internet, especially ones that somehow can access another person's computer without physically interacting with it. So, if you want to know, you have to answer me first-and frankly, I do not care for your attitude, whoever you are!} Her rebuttal seemed to please her, for after hitting the enter key she wore a smug grin and crossed her arms over her chest like someone relishing a hard-won victory.

To this the computer sighed once more, a deep long sigh brimming with annoyance. It concluded that the route it first tried would ultimately lead to a dead-end, and while it could concede to the organic's stubbornness, it had too much of an ego to admit defeat. So, basing its next course of action on the familiarity the woman inspired, the computer perused the entirety of its memory, scavenging for anything and everything that could relate to the woman's mannerisms and or appearances. In a mere fraction of a second, the synthetic located several logged conversations it carried with Courage that contained references and even a description of the woman sitting before it. The artificial intelligence even discovered a name: Kitty.

Back it went to the chat window and it drummed up another bit of text, {Your name is Kitty, a woman of middle age, and you have a homosexual relationship with a woman named Bunny-oh, how quaint. You work as a business woman while Bunny fills a part-time role in a flower shop. Once, many years prior to now, Courage performed one thing or another that's left both of you indebted to him, yet he's never once brought it up. And before you ask how I could possibly know all this, as your nonplussed mien tells me you're about to, allow me to enlighten you: I am Courage's computer and I know everything he's done outside and inside of the little world I have in this attic. Now, if you'd be so kind as to divulge the reason you've come-I have my theories as to what might have brought you here, but speculations can only go so far.}

Every word on the screen caused Kitty's eye to widen further and her face to scrunch up more and more as if she was a young babe seeing a spider for the first time. The computer once read an article regarding the psychological impact one could deliver on another being simply by revealing even an iota of that person's personal information, something said man or woman believed to be unknowable due to their privacy. The article described many possible reactions, and one of them vaguely resembled the expression she wore so plainly. Secretly, it had always wanted to conduct experiments regarding this curious occurrence in organics, but the only information it wielded was what it could glean from the chaotic maze of the internet and what Courage regaled it with-there wasn't exactly an abundance of viable subjects with which it could conduct tests on. Thus, it couldn't help but feel satisfied with itself at having found a participant, although less than willing. However, the matter regarding her purpose and the speculations it fabricated were more pressing than the need to perform such things.

{I am sure discovering something that cannot be counted among the living, by definition, suddenly having access to one's personal history is disconcerting, so I will allow you to find your composure once more. When you are once again in control of all your mental faculties, I request that you answer my question as I did for your own inquiry.}

The window then closed and left the wide-eyed, startled woman to her thoughts, as she stared blankly into the blue screen of the monitor. It found the look adorning her face incredibly amusing to behold, especially for the prolonged state she wore it for. However, even the comedic visage grew droll after viewing it for so long, and it truly did wish to have its inquiry answered. So it was ready to construct yet another sentence, one with the express purpose of instigating her into responding, when Kitty's hands tentatively returned to the keyboard-quickly reopening the window from before. Each keystroke was slow and meticulous, like an expert chess player deliberating over each move, as the response grew longer and longer-eventually coalescing into a singular length of textual elaboration. Then she sent it.

{If Courage trusts you enough to divulge such information, if you are who you say you are, then perhaps you can help me. Currently, I am trying to locate his whereabouts, and I was given reason to believe that, somewhere on this property, someone in Courage's household may hold the key to finding him. Where or who lead me to this reasoning is of no concern, all you should be concerned with is this-I wish to find and retrieve Courage from wherever he is being kept-as I have reasons to believe he is currently a prisoner of Katz. I assume you know of Katz, considering you know of both me and Bunny. So, now that I've told you why I am here and what I hope to accomplish: will you help me?}

At first, there were no words the piece of software could formulate a response befitting the woman's concise explanation. In truth, the curt and straight-to-the-point style in which she wrote invoked vague feelings of respect. Organics had such an irksome tendency to add superfluous fluff and floweriness in what they wrote-the mere fact Kitty hadn't almost impressed the computer. But the faint admiration was short-lived. Quickly, the keyboard clicked and clacked as the keystroke after keystroke were issued by the program living within the hardware. As the keyboard withstood the unseen assault, the mouse inched this way and that until the on-screen cursor hovered over and then clicked the icon representing the minimized chat interface. Once popped up, the enter key was hit and a new message appeared.

{As you undoubtedly did not know, I made my own efforts towards solving this conundrum you have presented. I do believe the location and retrieval of Courage would benefit us both, so I shall offer my help in every manner possible. Now, if you'd be so kind as to press the red button with an X printed on it-found on the interface of the computer tower-then we can begin.}

Visage bemused anew, Kitty slowly regarded the aforementioned red protrusion with dubious skepticism. She seemed to weigh the risks, comparing them with the rewards, before finally resigning to the fact that her efforts were bootless in the face of such odds. Thus, she left the embrace of the rickety pine wood chair before sidling up to the tower. Watching, the program impatiently waited as the woman hesitantly reached to click the flashing protrusion. It felt as if an eternity passed before her petite digit fully pushed the button, of which remained depressed, but once she did it seemed as if someone toggled the fast-forward option.

Without warning, the entirety of the tower's interface receded into a hollow pocket before a solid stainless steel sheet slid down into where the interface once was. Kitty immediately jumped back and landed on her rear, shielding her face with her arms. Then the plethora of cords and wires connecting the various aspects of the program's synthetic abode became animate: swinging and thrashing about until they ripped out of the wall sockets. Once free, they pulled the monitor and keyboard and mouse atop the tower-something fastened and moored each firmly into place-before shunting the table out from underneath itself. Rather than clatter against the decrepit floorboards, however, the excess of cords wove themselves together to form two strong, long hominid legs that connected to a makeshift pelvis, which in turn was attached to a humanoid torso. This torso effectively rendered the tower, mouse, and keyboard as naught more than the viscera of its synthetic chest cavity, while the monitor jutted out like the neck and head. The monitor displayed a basic digital rendition of human facial features. And then the remaining cables intertwined to form whip-like appendages out either of its synthetic shoulders. Thus, the process was complete.

Still covering her face, the computer's new body regarded and observed her for a moment before stepping forward and looking down upon the woman. No footsteps were heard, though, as little to no weight was carried in the stiff gait it possessed. So when Kitty felt the touch of smooth wires snake about her wrist, saying she freaked out and struggled against the program was an understatement. But such resistance simply irritated the computer and resulted in it forcibly grabbing and restraining her arms before jerking her up onto her feet. Then the clacking of a keyboard pierced the sounds of struggling, preceding a monotone and clearly synthetic voice.

"Would you cease this meaningless waste of time? There is a ninety-six percent chance that Katz will retain the self-control he's exercised thus far, and every second you spend struggling only furthers the likelihood of Courage's demise."

At this, the business woman ceased to struggle and bored holes into the floorboards. Then, after a moment, the computer set her down and approached the lone window of the attic.

"Now then, shall we save the ignorant little twit?"

Begrudgingly, she moved to join it. But when it opened the window lattice and motioned to wrap its cords about her midriff, she looked up and jabbed an accusatory finger up at the monitor.

"No tricks!" she hollered pointedly.

"Oh, come now, I'm only a self-aware intelligence program living within the restrictive confines of an archaic computer who's now been given free reign-why would I ever want to trick you?"

This was how their relationship began, and it would be how it carried out from now till forever.

[yahoo-puck-daddy-blog]

Eulogy: Remembering the 2016-17 St. Louis Blues

(Ed. Note: As the Stanley Cup Playoffs continue, we’re bound to lose some friends along the journey. We’ve asked for these losers, gone but not forgotten, to be eulogized by the people who knew the teams best: The bloggers and fans who hated them the most. Here is Kung Fu Canuck, last year’s Dallas Stars eulogist, fondly recalling the 2016-17 St. Louis Blues.)

(Again, this was not written by us. Also: This is a roast and you will be offended by it, so don’t take it so seriously.)

By Kung Fu Canuck

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to bid farewell to the 2016-17 St. Louis Blues.

The team went tragically before well after their time, falling in six games to the Nashville Predators, who now finally assume the mantle of the NHL’s Most Relevant Flyover Country Team, at least until the Kansas City Scouts are restored to their rightful place.

And yes, I can hear all you Blues fans moaning right now about how you got stuck with the off-brand no-name eulogizer instead of someone cool like the Committed Indian or even someone from Hockey Wilderness.

Well, all I can say is rest assured I asked for the Blues directly.

  Or, you know, indirectly.

Anyway, don’t take it too harshly that all the good bloggers forgot about you guys, it’s just that the Blues really didn’t matter at all this year. Hardly a change from tradition, if I’m being fair, but this year was a special kind of slog. At least in the past, the Blues’ boring, unwatchable style of play led to a team that we all had to worry might accidentally contend for a Stanley Cup – luckily Doug Armstrong put us all at ease by declaring this a wasted transition year and boy did he stick to that promise.

The result was a Blues team that was an afterthought to the Syracuse Crunch – in terms of relevancy, on a scale of 1 to 10, this team would get lost. It was one amazing Russian winger surrounded by a bunch of guys, like a knock-off Washington Capitals except without the likability or winning pedigree.

Maybe that’s fitting way to cap the 50th year of a franchise that was never supposed to be in the NHL in the first place in honour of a city that was only granted a team so that Arthur Wirtz could criminally own two franchises. The Blues have spent their first 50 years in the league graciously living up to these auspicious beginnings, both by achieving absolutely nothing of note outside of tripping Bobby Orr once, and by continuing to be owned by the Blackhawks.

And while Blues fans thankfully don’t have the audacity to copy their awful Cardinal’s brethren and call themselves “The Best Fans in Hockey”, there are only two bright spots in their entire fan base: Tony X, who taught us that hockey is indeed lit, and Jon Hamm, who only became successful because he managed to fulfill the ultimate St. Louis dream of fleeing the city for Los Angeles.

Although I’m probably not giving enough credit to the city of St. Louis —a beautiful and vibrant town that offers people all the thoroughly entrenched racism of the Deep South combined with the soul-crushing boredom of the Midwest. And as long as we’re embracing the history of the Blues here, I can’t think of anything that epitomizes the city of St. Louis better than the fact that the US government once used the city to test biological weapons, because it was the most similar town in the country to a Russian target city.

Mark that down as the only time anyone has ever chosen St. Louis for anything, and also as proof that the US government found a more beneficial use for the city than the NHL ever has.

It would also explain the city’s high tolerance for sources of toxic waste

So how did the St. Louis Blues franchise plan for its big 50th season celebration?

By honoring the team’s proud legacy of achieving peak mediocrity through a careful balance of shipping out their good players and overspending on their shitty ones. Gone were David Backes, Brian Elliot, and the guy TJ Oshie was traded for, and filling their spots were a bunch of human collar-tugs like Carter Hutton, David Perron, and Nail Yakupov, who was only brought in so the Blues could say they’ve had the two worst first overall picks in the cap era play for the team. At least the team managed to lock in it’s truly important ancillary players to terrible contracts. Beginning the season by spending a combined $5.4 million on Jori Lehtera and Magnus Paajarvi was a great start, and extending your oldest player for four years despite his not being that good anymore was a nice touch.

But the team didn’t truly hit its dumbass contract stride until the five-year Patrik Berglund extension. In fairness, when are you ever going to pay less than $19.25 million for a 30-point center who looks like a poster boy for adult illiteracy?

Actually, that was really mean. Patrik, if you’re reading this…color me shocked I guess?

Face it Blues fans, you knew this season was going to be rough when you looked at the roster and saw your center depth consisted of hopes and dreams.

You didn’t need Doug Armstrong to tell you the team wasn’t going to win a Cup this year when the entirety of the team’s success was riding on a goaltender whose legacy of failure could only be described as “Blues-esque.”

It should have been no surprise that by February the team was an absolute dumpster fire, and while flaming garbage usually means a nice hot meal for Kyle Brodziak, in this case it meant getting rid of your head coach, the Undertaker’s manager.

Pictured: The firing of Ken Hitchcock, who has since risen again

But, somehow, the Blues succeeded in spite of themselves under the Usurper Mike Yeo and managed to scrape into not even the last playoff spot. Jake Allen turned in a great performance down the stretch, under the tutelage of Blues legend Martin Brodeur, who taught him the secret of how to let a good defensive system make him look at lot better than he actually is.

Naturally, Armstrong rewarded his team’s fine play with a show of confidence at the trade deadline by trading away their best defenseman for a first-round pick and a made-up guy named Zach Ranford. Despite all of this, the team plodded along towards the playoffs, and it was an exciting time to be a Blues as long as you blissfully ignored the shallow grave Armstrong was digging for the team the entire time.

Armstrong: “Uh, don’t worry it’s nothing. [Aside] Hmmm, wouldn’t it be easier if I just dig one mass grave for the next ten years or so?

This team was pulling in two directions at once so much it looked like Joel Edmundson trying to defend a two-on-one.

Most teams try to solidify an identity going into the playoffs, but the only identity the Blues had at the end of the regular season was a bunch of very confused guys in blue.

Doug Armstrong: “I’m afraid I just blue myself/traded away Shattenkirk.”

And so despite coming off a 100-point season and a Western Conference Final trip the previous year, the Blues found themselves tickled just to be in the playoffs, and wouldn’t you know they even won a round! Blues fans are probably very impressed that their team was able to somehow beat a Bruce Boudreau team in the playoffs, but come on people, beating Minnesota isn’t a noteworthy achievement — it’s barely even an achievement. If making people from Minnesota sad was anything spectacular, the greatest show on television wouldn’t be one dedicated to showing how shitty life in Minnesota is.

“Why is everyone underrating us? Surely, it’s just because they haven’t seen us play!” was the cries from Blues faithful after Game 1.

Sorry Blues fans, but it was exactly because we all watched the Wild launch a shot barrage that rivaled the Battle of Verdun that we concluded this Blues team probably wasn’t going to go much farther than stealing the opening round. The Blues had to rely on Jake Allen going 2012 Jonathan Quick to beat the Wild, which no doubt means that Blues fans will also spend the next five years whining that their goaltender is anything other than completely average.

By the way, while on the subject of guys who have ridden their 2012 performances like Paul Ryan, it was quite something to see Allen turn back into a pumpkin when he got outdueled by Pekka Rinne in the second round.

Despite the fact that Bridgestone Arena has to play deafening music just to drown out the sound of Rinne’s hips grinding like a cement mixer when he attempts to move side-to-side, the Blues couldn’t figure out how to score on the guy.

Hardly surprising, when you see the other easy problems the team couldn’t solve.

Jesus, okay here’s a hint: it’s one number higher than the most playoff series the Blues have ever won in a single year.

And so we say goodbye to another year of Blues mediocrity, another season of wasting the prime years of their best player. I’ll be the first to admit that I was shocked when Tarasenko decided to sign long term with the Blues — I was thinking he’d bolt at the first opportunity, indulging in the great St. Louis tradition of leaving the city for a better North American one or playing for one of the petro/mafia teams in the KHL. But instead he chose to stick it out for the long haul.

Still, you have to wonder if the team pissing away his best season, while planning for him to play the foreseeable future on Paul Stastny’s wing, is making him regret his choice to stay in St. Louis.

Even if it does remind him of home.

But Blues fans, you can take solace that this wasn’t just some meaningless season – it was a transition year! It was a year in which the team would slough off the legacy of the previous Backes-Oshie-Hitchcock futility. It was a year-long shower meant to get rid of the stench of failure of a core whose potential topped out at a forgettable Conference final loss.

Now the reins have been handed to a new group of players, and the team is transitioning from the old, slow, mediocre squad. Just don’t think too hard about what this team is transitioning into — a team with great wingers, a one great defenseman, one older, overrated defenseman, zero good options at center, a question mark in goal, and a bunch of overpaid bottom-six forwards. Don’t think too hard about the fact that this team is still missing key pieces to contend while Tarasenko is still a dominant force.

Don’t think about how badly Armstrong is going to overpay for 56 games of Tyler Johnson next year. And certainly don’t think too hard about the fact that this year marks a transition from one era of mediocrity into a new era of the exact same soul-crushing non-contention.

In other words, happy 50th birthday St. Louis Blues! I hope the next 50 years are just as successful!

  St. Louis Blues 2017-2067 Seasons 

NHL EULOGIES 2017

Boston Bruins

Calgary Flames

Chicago Blackhawks

Columbus Blue Jackets

Minnesota Wild

Montreal Canadiens

San Jose Sharks

Toronto Maple Leafs

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[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

The YMCA, Reality TV, and Diabetes Across the Globe

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/the-ymca-reality-tv-and-diabetes-across-the-globe/

The YMCA, Reality TV, and Diabetes Across the Globe

What can you expect from an Ohio-based event called a "Global Diabetes Summit?"

Well, think hundreds of international leaders from the diabetes world, top government initiatives focusing on D-prevention, and novel ideas like using the YMCA and reality TV to help change lifestyles in order to prevent type 2 diabetes. Not to mention the latest and greatest in diabetes technology, pharmacology and how the experts are all working more closely than ever in tackling this condition throughout the world.

I was excited to attend the Global Diabetes Summit held Nov. 14-17, bringing nearly 500 people together at the Wexner Medical Center at Ohio State University in Columbus, Ohio. This was the second event of its kind on U.S. soil in the past five years. The university held its first on-site summit in 2007, convening about 650 people, and that had its origins from a dozen years earlier, after a smaller summit in Africa as part of its work with the International Diabetes Federation (IDF). That first overseas event was what led to the idea of this international conference.

This event is not to be confused with the giant annual World Diabetes Congress run by IDF, which brought together 15,000 people from 172 countries in Dubai December 2011. That event is huge and has a bigger focus on government policy-makers across the world, but it's now not the only global conference on the block.

The theme of the Ohio Global Summit this year was New Horizons in Diabetes: Genetics to Personalized Health Care.

Dr. Kwame Osei, a medical professor who's director of the Diabetes Research Center and the OSU Wexner Medical Center's Division of Endocrinology, Diabetes and Metabolism, has chaired the summits and did a fabulous job bringing an impressive roster of brilliant mindpower to the table. Given the event's name there of course was a global focus, but I was very impressed with how they tied it all together and brought the subjects home to wherever one might be living. We are a global D-Community, after all.

The multi-track meeting covered topics ranging from the newest in medicine and glucose sensing technology to teens and obesity to how type 2 diabetes is growing and being dealt with in specific populations across the globe. Not surprisingly, the summit took on a type 2 focus... but there were some great broader messages and overlaps for the type 1 diabetes world.

"We are in the right place at the right time, and we seem to be more ready as a global community to address these issues. This is not abstract thinking anymore, we are doing it and we have a strategy for combating diabetes. This year, we have the evidence and people can see what can be done, " Dr. Osei says.

Lots of good stuff was covered! But for the sake of brevity, the U.S.-based community efforts to "confront the type 2 diabetes pandemic," all supported in some way by the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), came out on the top of my radar:

Lifestyle Intervention That Works

Right now, about 1 in 10 Americans are living with diabetes, says Dr. Ann Albright who leads the CDC's Division of Diabetes Translation. But only 7% of people living with pre-diabetes know it, and so if the trajectory of new diagnoses doesn't change, the number of PWDs will jump to one in three by 2050.

"That is not sustainable," Albright told summit attendees. "If we think prevention is difficult now, we ain't seen nothing yet if we don't get it together."

With the numbers rising, Albright said it's "all hands on deck" to do what we can to provide more lifestyle intervention programs to fight type 2 diabetes.

She highlighted the National Diabetes Prevention Program (DPP), a widespread national trial program, supporting "lifestyle intervention" efforts through hundreds of organizations around the country.

This initiative is an important milestone in national prevention efforts and a focus of the Affordable Care Act passed in 2010 and upheld by the Supreme Court earlier this year. That legislation authorized the federal agency to lead this national diabetes intervention program.

The CDC helps to organize and fund this program, but they don't own it. The CDC just provides the organizational infrastructure: training to increase work force, assuring quality, delivering the program to people in the community, and marketing the program, Albright says. "This belongs to the U.S. and the world, to you."

So far, the DPP has served or is serving 9,000 people and is being run by more than 1,000 lifestyle coaches across the U.S. Early data suggests weight loss achievement is about 4.9 percent of initial body weight, and that rises to 5.1 percent among programs that have been running the longest. Retention is best after participants get through the first four sessions, she said.

"We need to connect people with programs they can use, and we need to have the biggest impact on people we can," Albright said.

The Y to the D

First to step up to join the DPP in offering one of these community-based intervention programs in the U.S. was the YMCA, which has teamed up with the National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive Kidney Diseases (NIDDK) to create a nationwide lifestyle intervention program focused on type 2 prevention.

The Y is offering its staff and resources to help more than 200 organizations create and run local programs at car dealerships, churches, and community centers. How cool is that? Need help with your health? Just stop by a local car dealership or community center!

Results show that the program is helping people to achieve "meaningful" weight loss and cut their risk of developing type 2 diabetes, and overall, to achieve healthier lifestyles. In the roughly two years since it's been going on, more than 4,000 people have enrolled and are participating in programs scattered across 50+ cities in 30 states. People go through weekly classroom sessions for about 16 weeks with a lifestyle coach and they get support from a small group of peers as they learn how to eat healthier, be more physically active and make other health behavioral changes.

And the coolest part? Insurers and employers are paying the tab. United Health Group (which owns United Health Care) was the first, and now four other insurers have signed on, making this a third-party "pay for performance" model and not a CDC grant endeavor. The Y gets reimbursed by insurers and employers who enroll in a year-long D-prevention course. If people meet their target goals of 5% to 7% weight loss, the Y gets more payments. It can cost $275-$325 when using a trained Y-staffer, and $550 per person when a certified diabetes educator is used.

"Our CDC Vision is a world free of the devastation of diabetes," Albright said. "And really, I'm going to draw a Blue Circle around this because the DPP is in lock step with the IDF and we're all about unifying on this message."

Diabetes Prevention, Reality TV Style

Also as part of the DPP, United Health Group and Comcast are piloting a reality TV program called "Project Not Me" this year, which we introduced after the Joslin Innovation event at the end of September. This study examines the use of video on demand to deliver national DPP interventions targeting type 2 prevention.

The 16-episide series uses a reality TV format that follows six adults who are at high risk for developing type 2 and go through the DPP community efforts. Each video features a health and wellness coach leading a class of participants to lose weight, eat healthier and change their lifestyle habits. Viewers are also given assignments to track their health each week in between episodes, and the goal is to lose 5-7% in body weight.

People using the TV programming also get access to a virtual scale to monitor their own health, and report that data. And data from the show: the six people in the videos lose an average 8.1% of their body weight during the full 16 weeks of the program.

Within just a month of the study launched in two test markets in Philadelphia, PA, and Knoxville, TN, more than 300 people signed up for the on demand episodes featuring six people with pre-diabetes learning to eat healthier, get more exercise and make changes in their lifestyles.

Data on the reality TV initiative is being finalized and should be published in the coming months, according to Albright, who says that there's significant evidence "that this program is working." The program is also expected to move into more markets soon.

What's Next?

The rest of the summit's prime time was also very fascinating, but mirrored some of the common threads: type 2 diabetes is spreading worldwide and we can do something about it through the use of new medicines being developed; community-based initiatives like what the CDC is doing; and just more connections between government, corporations, innovators, researchers, health care providers, third-party payers and patients.

Dr. Osei says his group is working to support the IDF's upcoming 2013 World Diabetes Congress to be held in Melbourne, Australia, Dec. 2-6 of next year. The focus will be on creating a strategic plan that can be distributed and implemented worldwide. All of this will be in place before his group reconvenes for their own third third Global Diabetes Summit in 2017.

Wow - another five years from now? That seems like a long ways off, but Dr. Osei says: "If you do these too soon, you won't see a drastic change so you need to (wait) so that you can benefit more. There will be new innovations, new creativity and ways of thinking... really, who knows where we will be five years from now?"

Who knows, indeed? But I for one am encouraged about where these programs seem to be headed.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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