#Sleet is an alter guys

[valarioncy]

Remember this comic? It's here on Tumblr now. Context for those who are unaware: This is "The Shallow", AKA Bootleg "The Hollow". The initial trio was designed by @ahyesthesufferingoftvteens and then I kinda ran wild with the concept, because it was exactly what I needed back in late 2021 to escape the whole "my entire family is down with the sickness". And the whole AU culminated in the making of this comic.

I'm currently doing bust and full-body character redraw commissions btw. :0 Visit my blog for more detaaaaails.

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond! Cast: Tekno the Canary

Replaces: Spectacular Spider-Man Origin: Sonic the Comic

"After helping stop Prime Sonic from getting killed and causing a multiversal collapse, I'm open to helping keep the further multiverse stable with you. I'm happy to be along for the ride!"

Tekno is a character from Dimension STC-1993, who has quite the dab hand in inventing, just like Tails. She used to be working under the Robotnik of her universe, but kept stealing his resources for her own use, landing her in constant trouble.

When she was sent to the Badnik Processing Plants, however, a special Badnik named Shortfuse rescued her from the troops transporting her, and in return, she improved his Megatal armour and helped him take down a Chemical Plant factory AND the twisted Metamorphia.

After enough time, she eventually allied with the Freedom Fighters to apply her tech knowledge to an heroic cause, and even befriended Amy along the way. After Robotnik's empire fell, she allied with Amy more to stop various criminals, and was later sought out by the mysterious Ring of Eternity for her efforts.

Two of her more recent endeavours were helping stop Robotnik from draining Mobius's life force and causing an environmental collapse, and later being one of the few outright challenging Exetior's rule, which later caused the arch-demon to give up and restore the planet to the way it was.

One of her most praised achievements, however, was helping save the ENTIRE multiverse alongside the original Sonic, from the likes of the SSSSS Squad, Scourge, Sleet and Dingo, and even Dark Oak. She even saved her own Sonic from harm's way after he was captured, and his twisted Super form planned to be used against the original blue blur.

Her efforts managed to inspire EV!Sonic when they crossed paths, which led to them allying up and forming the Quill Society together as a way to keep the multiverse outside of the base dimension safe and stable. This also means rounding up any villains that are causing trouble outside of their own dimensions for sorting out.

Like OMT!Tails, the Quill Society has a policy in place where villains are not kept captive for longer than needed. For select cases like Sark here, who's imprisoned for what EV!Sonic states as "unspeakable war crimes that are truly unspeakable" (since I ain't saying his TRULY unforgivable deeds here), they face erasure shortly following their capture.

However, for the majority of the guys captured, they are instead prepared for being sent back home, due to the Quill Society having concerns about dealing with a villain without that world's Sonic. Therefore, killing or long-term imprisonment is a no-go.

The villains in question come from all sorts of areas, ranging from Dr. Qwark from Dimension AO-1992, Sir Fuzzy-Logik in that chamber, and even villains from adaptations of the games, like that ridiculously-small Robotnik from the Game Gear Sonic Spinball. As you can tell from Sunky's expression, literally nobody takes that pint-sized Egghead's threats seriously, considering he's inside a pod inside a dang capsule.

Tekno was one of several to be clearly wary of Lost Memory Sonic's behaviour, and was on OMT!Tails's side when the truth about the "canon event" theory came out. As such, she and Fleetway Amy allied up to help apprehend the selfish version of the blue blur and give OMT!Tails a boost in disrupting the intentions of letting OMT!Cream die to Crimtake. Safe to say, they gladly succeeded in that area.

Oh, yeah. One more thing I can bring up:

OMT!Tails: Hey.

Speedy: Hey. ... It's rude to stare, kid.

OMT!Tails: So, er, what's with Speedy and that altered Emerl suit?

Pana: Birdbrain was causing some chaos in one of the dimensions. Took me and mini Amy here to apprehend him and bring him here.

SS!Amy: Sure I bonked him the best, Pana.

Speedy: You two idiots kidding?! During my escape, I tripped! You heroes just got off lucky.

OMT!Tails: So how many missions have you guys been on together?

SS!Amy: Well, not too many.

Pana: With Mina? A... couple dozen?

OMT!Tails: Wait, what? (a little jealous) Ah, that's cool.

(Cell sprites by RaulHedgeBomber)

[galactose-galaxy]

Okay, I wrote this a bit ago and its basically a blurb of an AU of my one character, Bjarne (or Sleipnir), and how his normal lore would translate to the universe of Altered Carbon. Fully self-serving as I absolutely adore the show (need to read the books... soon) and I enjoy how the parallel of sleeve wearing fits the original version's stuff. I think, for fun I might write another. Would be great to practice writing characters interacting since it is such a weak point for me :,) Also warning, some violence and quick murder

-*-*-*-

Freezing sleet rapped against the thick glass, barely audible about the electronic hum that constantly droned throughout the entire city. Quiet was for the deaf and the dead, the living had to suffer with the noise their evolution had brought to this alien world. The closest thing to peaceful background noise jarringly broke as the worn lock of this rusted place ground open, followed by the heavy sliding of the door. The peace was further sullied as dim lights turned on, and the muffled screaming of a gagged man now filled the space. With a soaked back and tied-up feet, the man fruitlessly gasped and grabbed the broad shoulder he was so unceremoniously slung over. The leather, cold from the outdoors, gave the well-chewed nails of the man nothing to grab onto. Frigid, unbearing. Even his kicks were still weak and uncoordinated, a fruitless endeavour that only received silence from the man’s captor.

Taking a final drag of the cigarette, the captor roughly crumpled it in his hand, singing flesh with the dying ember before flicking it to the already littered ground of the hotel room. He gripped the man’s tied feet and with a heave he sent the body falling right into the chair prepped by the window. Finally, the captor and captured were face to face for the first time. Unnaturally blue eyes bore into the natural brown, only encouraging the muffled screams to continue. The captor’s lip twitched downwards, into a frown as he finally exhaled, letting his smoke wash over the screaming victim. Wretched, disgusting, even gagged the poor victim choked and sputtered. At least, as he did so the sweaty and now drool-soaked rag was removed from his mouth. Sucking a breath in, he started to spew the filthy begging they all did. “Please, I-I just take my money man. I can even drain my account for you. I can even pretend I never saw your face and we can just part ways right here. What do you say, big guy?” The captor simply turned his back. Cold and uncaring, not a word fell from his lips in acceptance or denial. He didn’t care, the only thing he cared about was that precious sleeve the man had. Be it bought, born, or borrowed, the skin was soft, the eyes a wonderful natural shade and the man didn’t seem to be balding either. Bjarne could already taste the credits this one would make him. The time it would spare him. Calloused hands picked up a well-used switchblade from the kitchenette as the coffee machine whirred to life, dribbling into the stained carafe. The chorus of pleading became the new backdrop as he stepped closer, flicking the blade open, its golden metal flashing just as his large frame moved to straddle the still-conscious sleeve. The talking moved to panicked screams, pleading and begging, and even a prayer or two. All the beautiful words fell on deaf ears though, and all it got was a very soft and disappointing, “shhh” from Bjarne. Shushing the poor man like a fussy child. Even caressing his hair like one as his face was forced against leather. The victim gnashed his teeth and bit where he could, but cold calloused hands stayed true and strong, keeping him in place. Holding him still as the golden blade of Gabriel found the nape of his neck.

Tears ran, and sobbing began. “Don’t RD me, please, I swear, I can change. If that is what this is, please, please, I will learn please.” The sobs grew ugly, deranged. While the corners of the cold captor’s lips twitched yet again, falling farther into a scornful frown, just as blood pricked the knife eager to escape as the tip was pushed in on that telltale scar. With an uncomfortable precision, the blade slid in, roughly bumping against the vertebra as Bjarne found the sweet spot. The man’s pleas grew in crescendo, falling ill to the pain before finally nothing. The body hung limp against Bjarne’s chest. The silver-haired man let out a soft sigh, twisting his knife against the man’s spinal cord until the object of his desires popped free. Dropping the knife to the ground, blood splattering over his already stained boots, he drove his fingers into the wound. Flesh squelched uncomfortably, but the little metal piece was easy enough to find. He gave it a flick as he stood up, pushing the once a man, now just a sleeve, back into the chair. Holding the glowing blue object up to the light, simply inspected it with an appraising eye, even giving it a wipe against his shirt before tossing it into a bowl where a few others resided. Far away from that hotel, and a few bodies lighter, Bjarne flicked and tossed his knife, over and over again. Sheltered by the taller buildings, the rain only came down in certain areas and was easy to avoid. Yet it created puddles and portals to another world. Reflecting the hundreds of neon lights that dance, desperately trying to grab the attention of the small-minded individual. Like moths to a flame, a crowd surrounded the establishment that Bjarne had been looking for. Slipping his blade away, he tucked his palms into his pockets, shouldering his way through without a word. No apologies or even the acknowledgement of those he barreled through. They didn’t matter, they were nothing to him. He only had one goal and wanted it over with as quickly as possible. With a steeled gaze he looked up towards the neon pink sign, the strange symbols of a name rolling right past his mind. Still, after all these years, he hadn’t bothered to learn to read the local tongue.

A rough hand grabbed his jacket, yanking back on the young man. Causing his tunnel vision to break as he came face to face with a bouncer. “Buddy, back of the line.” Giving the strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes a puff of air, he stared the bouncer down, trying to recognize the face. Grabbing a hold of the still stained and bloodied shirt he wore, he tugged down the neckline, giving the man just the corner of a tattoo that swirled along his chest. Just with the sight of the tail, the bouncer was understanding, and let Bjarne go with a rough push. “Don’t fuckin’ start anythin’, I don’t care who you are, fucker.” Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t have crumpled so easily. For a brief moment, the young man let himself revel in the fantasy that he was respected for his own name, his reputation. He moves past the winding hallways of flashing and neon lights, tuning out the faux moans of organic and synthetic workers alike along with the cheers of the greasy folk who frequented this upstanding establishment. Though, just as fake as the paid-for whimpers of pleasure, he knew that fantasy was synthetic, made up just to buffer the blow against his ego. He was no man of his own making, just a boy forced to the coattails of the man he worked for. Passing by more security, this time unhindered, he shouldered the heavy metal door. As soon as the seal was broken, a wash of smoke blew over his face, swirling and burning his nostrils with its toxicity. Fucking terrible. With a final breath of relatively fresh air, he stepped in, as confident as his legs would allow. Bathed in low and pink light, the source of the haze that filled the luxurious room sat the uncomfortably familiar face, the golden mirror of his own, aged by years of life, and years of purgatory. Bjarne’s father blew out some more smoke, and a grin, unlike that of his father, broke across his face, followed by a voice made by Gabriel’s vocal cords, but spoken by that of Svathilfari. “Sleipnir, my boy, you finally join us.” The voice purred, cracked by the smoke-filled lungs. A ringed hand delicately brushed over the shoulder of his Blom, her form wore a new sleeve, yet the boy could see who she was just from the judgmental glare she held for the boy, a glare that only softened when she returned her attention to the most important figure of the room.

Bjarne didn’t offer the man a verbal response. He never did. Instead, he stepped past where they lounged, roughly opening the cabinet where he knew the terminal was, the one he always had to use. “Three hours late. Right on the dot. You know the deal, boy.” He grinned, turning over the cigarette in his hand before sucking down another puff, letting it snake out of his maw after a moment. Pure ecstasy seemed to flood through that stolen sleeve as soon as the chemicals hit. A glance was all the man got before the boy shrugged his shoulders, depositing the credits. All the way down until his account was empty, yet the balance wasn’t set to zero. He squinted towards the screen, turning back to Svadilfari with a soft grunt of confusion.

“Ah, boy. Inflation you see.” The man didn’t even give him the respect of hiding his devilish smirk. “Had to charge more, especially on your regular late fee.”

Quiet anger seethed in the young man, waiting for the inevitable rest of his words. He always offered this, he always wanted it.

The golden mirrored man pushed off from the elegant chair, clasping the pin-striped suit’s buttons neatly as he closed the distance. “Sell your sleeve, Sleipnir.”

There it was, and right as those once kind hands grasped the boy’s shoulders, trapping him in place and under that terrifying gaze. A delusional man would think he was brave, staring down the eyes that threatened to pluck him right from the very skin he wore. Truthfully, the son was always terrified of the father. As a child, as a teen, and even now, as an adult.

Hands balled into fists as he seethed. It took every single ounce of courage the weak boy had to muster it, but he did, just as every time before. Breaking the eye contact, he shook his head no.

“How many times have we been over this.” The false father growled, the grip on the boy’s shoulder with barely restrained rage. They had been over this time and time again, the incoming speech that often was delivered with a calm before the storm. False Father’s mouth opened for a mere moment before he drew a knife of air through his teeth, snapping the brittle tension with a deranged smile.

The shift caught the boy off guard, and where his eyes had found themselves digging holes in the wall behind his tormentor readying himself to withstand a beating, they snapped to his face in stark confusion. That mask must have broken, for the change in the boy’s demeanour brought nothing but illicit joy from Svadilfari.

“I have a far better offer for you, especially now that you consider yourself a man.”

*-*-*

[veronica-sawyers-monocle]

❄ tomura shigaraki x female reader

❄ warnings: nonconsensual sexual content but it turns out they enjoy it :O

❄ author’s note: i had no clue where this was going as i was writing it so i hope you guys like it. i just needed to write something smutty with shigaraki and this just felt right to me.

You hated the cold. Seeping into your bones, freezing you from the inside out. After years of perfecting your quirk, you still struggled the most to alter cold climates. Keeping the harsh snow and sleet at bay drained your strength. Cooling things down, creating wind, storms, even altering the composition of the gases in the atmosphere to drain it of oxygen, all those were easier than producing warmth from nothing.

But here you were. Knowing you needed to use your quirk for the number one villain in Japan, Tomura Shigaraki. You wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t dropped out of UA. But the past was the past; you made your decision and now you must live with it. Scraping and scrounging for rent and food money all because your stupid ego couldn’t handle being constantly overlooked at school. Your quirk wasn’t very combat-oriented so all you did was make the climate more difficult for enemies to fight in. If you used your quirk it usually affected everyone in the area, even the people on your side.

You were recruited by Shigaraki when he came across you in the middle of creating a windstorm to fuck with some girls doing a photoshoot. He saw himself in you a bit, with your oversized hoodie covering half your face, observing the results of your actions from a park bench. Recognized the defeated, tired look in your eyes. The frustration that came with having a quirk that wasn’t built for heroics. He knew you wouldn’t have any moral scruples in helping a villain. Of course, he never told you any of that. He kept things businesslike always.

“I need you to come with so you can make sure I don’t freeze to death” he told you.

“And from our location we’ll have a vantage point over the entire valley. If we see someone approach I need you to use your quirk to make them stay away from us.”

Seemed easy enough. A reasonable request. Not like you could refuse anyway, and he was offering you a lot of money.

But currently you were exhausted. Hiking up the mountain while keeping the snowstorm at bay using your quirk the whole time had you lagging behind. Shigaraki had no idea of your struggle. He was maintaining a fast pace, intent on reaching a specific outlook point. You admired his determined nature, but he had no consideration for how you might be feeling. Dusk came and went and you still trudged on, growing more and more exhausted as the night went on. The area you could control was shrinking with each passing minute, and you knew that if you kept yourself warm instead of Shigaraki, he would surely throw you off the side of the mountain and leave you for dead.

“Shigaraki, can-can we rest? I dont think i can continue much longer.” You held out to the very last second but you could feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones. You needed food, someplace to sit, any kind of break.

“You can’t keep going for five more minutes?” He griped, not even looking at you or stopping.

“I can but I can’t use my quirk anymore,” you panted, falling to your knees in the snow.

Shigaraki stopped and finally turned around to look at you, his windblown hair obscuring his face. The reflection of the moonlight on the snow illuminated his red eyes, glowing as they stared at you.

“Just walk five more minutes and we’ll camp for the night.” Finally he took pity on you. Or gave you a well-deserved break. Relieved, you got back up to your feet and began slowly walking again.

You were lagging so far behind Shigaraki that when you’d reached him, he already pitched a tent and started a fire. Sitting down on a fallen log, you began warming your hands feverishly. The pair of red eyes were still watching you, disapproving.

“You didn’t even help make it and you’re using my fire?”

Fuck. He was treating you like shit. Exhausted as you were, you still had to say something. He couldn’t do anything to you or else he’d probably die from the conditions.

“Look, Shigaraki,” you started between chattering teeth. “You asked me to help you with this so would you please treat me with some respect? I had to use my quirk the entire time coming up this mountain.”

“Look,” he said your name, mocking you. “I hired you to do one thing.” Shigaraki got up and stalked towards you, his figure dark and imposing in the firelight. “Keep me fucking warm with your quirk. I don’t care how cold you are or how tired you get. I have to do my job and I don’t need you being weak.”

Before you could reply, he turned his back on you and stalked into the tent. Shigaraki didn’t want to be that harsh. He just couldn’t trust you yet. Or ever. After all, he just picked you up off the street, taking the risk of assuming you had no ulterior motives in working for him. Eventually, if you wanted, he’d invite you to join the League. Your quirk would be so useful to them…and maybe you’d be useful to him.

He had to admit, he was attracted to you. You had such strength with your quirk, but there was a helpless, innocent nature to your personality that drove him a little crazy. He wanted to put his hands all over you, feel the soft warmth of your body underneath his rough skin. You were completely at his mercy, he thought. No clue of how to get back to the nearest town. This was his ulterior motive.

You didn’t know any of this though. You just thought this guy wanted to use you for the job and nothing else. You trusted him to not do anything to you when you finally crawled inside the tent, seeking warmth and rest for your exhausted body. Shigaraki already had fallen asleep, it seemed. He laid on his side, hair falling across his face and one arm stretched out, reaching towards nothing. Rolling your eyes, you gingerly scooted his arm towards his body to make room for yourself. He was sleeping heavily, the sound of his deep breaths filling the tent. The rhythm was strangely comforting, lulling you to sleep.

Sometime during the night, the feeling of a cold, callused hand against the bare skin of your stomach jolted you awake. You laid there stunned for a moment, not knowing what to do. Alerted to your consciousness by your quickened breaths, Shigaraki pulled you closer to his chest, his raspy voice in your ear.

“You promised you’d keep me warm, didn’t you?” His hand clenched slightly on your skin. You tried to squirm out of his grip but you realized with his quirk, he could destroy you in a second. The only reason he could touch you, you realized, was because of a special glove covering a couple of his fingers that you’d seen earlier.

“Shigaraki, please, can I just sleep right now?”

His hand moved up to cup your bare breast, his warm breath on your neck a contrast to the cold air.

“Mmm, you can, but wouldn’t you rather be awake?” He ground his hips against your ass, forcing you to feel his hardness. He sucked your earlobe, licking around the edge with his tongue. Nonconsensual as it was, you were so sensitive there so you arched your back with pleasure, inadvertently pushing yourself against Shigaraki’s erection. He was warm, warmer than you would have expected, and his larger body felt nice pressed against your back.

He groaned, “Aaahh, you like when I do that?” You sighed breathily as you felt the tip of his cock brush up against your pussy.

“I-it feels good but…why?”

Instead of answering you, he began groping your tits, alternating between them. His rough fingers tugged at your nipples, which were already sensitive and hard from the cold air.

“Why does it feel good? Because you’re a little slut, aren’t you…my little slut now…”

“No, why—ohhh,” you moaned as he began sucking on your neck. “Why are you doing this?” You could tell Shigaraki was inexperienced sexually, his hands were roaming over your torso, greedily fondling every inch of your skin like it was the first and last time he’d ever touch a woman. You hated to admit it, but you loved being touched like this. His movements were clearly driven by pure lust for you. You felt yourself growing wetter with every touch, clenching your thighs every time he ground his clothed cock against you.

He never answered your question, but it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter why his hand had slipped into your underwear, spreading your wetness everywhere, rubbing you, and then slipping those same fingers into your mouth. Demanding you to suck on them. It didn’t matter because you loved it all.

“Mmm…want you inside me,” you whispered. He froze immediately at your words, shocked that you wanted him.

“R-really? I thought…”

“You can’t do all this and expect me to not get turned on,” you mumbled, shy to admit it to him. It had been awhile since you’d gotten any action, your last hookup was with a lame UA boy a couple years ago. And now here you were, the number one villain desperately wanting to get into your pants. You turned around so that you were facing each other and looked at his flushed face, then saw the huge tent in his pants.

“I thought I’d…have to force you…” he trailed off his sentence, clearly ashamed.

“That’s fucked up, Shigaraki. You’re fucking lucky I liked it, otherwise…well, I guess all you’d have to do is threaten to kill me and I’d have to do whatever you wanted.” He looked dejected at your response and sat up, putting a pillow over his bulge to hide himself.

“I-I’m sorry…I wouldn’t kill you, I promise,” he didn’t meet your eyes, his embarrassment was obvious. He looked back up at you through his wavy hair. “You said you liked it?” He asked hesitantly. You nodded in response.

“No girl has said she liked it before…” Shrugging, you told him you did.

He took that as an invitation to continue, smashing his lips against yours in a messy, heated kiss. He climbed on top of you, propping himself up on his elbows while you laid down, tangling your hands in his long hair. Shigaraki’s lower half pressed flush against yours, grinding into you hungrily. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer to feel his erection grind against your pussy, giggling when he had to stop kissing you because he was moaning too much. You felt the wetness from his precum through both his boxers and your underwear, he was so aroused by you. Wanting to see more of him, you pushed his shirt up, rubbing your palms all over his torso. He was skinny, yet there was defined muscle underneath his pale, scarred skin. His body twitched as you trailed your fingers down each of his v-lines, teasing him by going towards his pelvis and then tracing back up again. 

Shigaraki’s head was thrown back in pleasure, his mouth open and eyes half closed, still wanting to see your pretty, innocent face looking up at him. 

“Touch my cock...please...” He was begging you for it. 

Slowly, you pulled down his boxers, tugging the fabric over his sensitive tip and forcing a gasp from his throat. You almost drooled looking up at it, he was so fucking hard and turned on. Thick and long, with a couple of veins running towards the red, slick tip of it. You saw it jerk up a bit on its own, a little droplet falling from the tip onto your stomach. Not able to resist anymore, you put your hand into your underwear and gathered up some of your own wetness before you began to stroke him with it. Shigaraki let out a soft whimper as he thrusted roughly into your hand. 

“Wow, you really did want this, huh,” you whispered, making eye contact with him as you said it. 

“Yes, I--I wanted it so bad, please let me fuck you, I want your pussy, fuck, I want it so bad right now, want to cum in you and fill you up,” He was almost incoherent, hips bucking into your fist, eyes glazed over, drool running down his chin. 

Shigaraki grabbed you by your hips and you let him flip you over so your ass was facing him, your dripping hole begging for his cock. He made sure you were prepared by sticking two fingers in you suddenly; it was a tight fit, but you thrusted yourself back and forth on them, hungry for anything to be inside of you. He removed his fingers and dug his hands into your soft flesh, squeezing it with a lust that never seemed to abate. In one rough thrust, he shoved his fat cock into you, groaning when he felt your hot, wet walls sucking him in.

His chest was pressed against your back as he pinned you to the floor, his breath heavy in your ear. He thrust into you, rough and deep, barely able to keep a steady rhythm because he was so focused on lasting more than a couple of strokes.

“Fuck, take my big cock…ohhh…you’re so fucking wet,” he kept talking into your ear, moaning between his words.

“Shigaraki…rub my clit please,” you breathed out between his aggressive thrusts, and he reached a hand underneath you almost immediately. The stimulation from his long fingers made you clench around his thick length, it felt so good to Shigaraki and he couldn’t control himself. He bit into your shoulder hard, almost growling when you let out a sharp scream.

“Mmm fuck, bet that feels nice,” he panted between messy thrusts. “Feels so good around me, I fucking love this pussy, wanna make it mine, no one else can have it.”

No one else can have it.

His greedy hands palming your breasts, roaming over your ass, grabbing at it. Shigaraki really couldn’t get enough of you. Slowing his thrusts when he got too close to his orgasm to prolong both your pleasure, then gradually moving back to a faster pace. Your arousal was dripping onto the floor of the tent, knees bruised from resting on the hard ground for so long. Pain mixing with overwhelming pleasure.

Soon, Shigaraki couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He flipped you onto your back and pulled his impossibly hard cock out, stroking it fast until he came, groaning loudly, spilling himself onto your stomach. For awhile, he knelt there holding his twitching cock, eyes closed in bliss and unaware that you still had yet to orgasm.

You cleared your throat, hoping he’d notice you hadn’t finished.

“Did-did you cum?” You shook your head.

“I’ll fix that.”

Still breathing hard, he knelt down and began licking his cum off your torso and breasts, leaving soft kisses all over your skin. Simultaneously, he reached a hand down and slipped two fingers into your soaked pussy, thrusting at your G spot while the heel of his palm brushed your clit with every stroke.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make you finish,” he murmured in your ear, multitasking while fingering you. “Your pussy was so good I couldn’t resist.”

“It-it’s alright I-I think I’m about to…” Your breathing came harder and harder as he worked you to your finish, sloppy, wet sounds filling the tent again.

He had you thrusting up into his touch, as desperate for release as he was. As you came all over his fingers, you held on to his wiry arms for leverage, moaning and gasping uncontrollably.

“Am I making you cum?” His eyes were wide, looking down at you convulsing from his touch.

“Mhm,” you managed.

“Holy shit, wow, that was so hot…” Shigaraki was just about hard again from that, even though it barely took any time. You giggled, smiling at him and lazily stroking his cock, not able to get enough of this man.

“Fuck, I want to go again but we need to sleep,” he said begrudgingly.

Looking down at you, he saw that you’d fallen asleep, your hand dropping from his cock. You looked so peaceful like that, his spit and cum still smeared on you making your skin glisten. Shigaraki turned to go to sleep, pulling a blankets over himself, but at the sound of you sighing in your sleep, he took a couple of blankets and draped them carefully over your unconscious form.

He secretly wanted to hold you as he slept, but he was done forcing you to do anything.

[unexpected-possibilities]

Because I need something to cheer me up, here’s part of today’s celebratory “I reached 150 pages” or whatever I’m calling it. These are some of my saved notes from my chapters throughout my writing process in Saudade (I unfortunately didn’t start keeping them until recently so there’s not as many as I’d like). It’s also important that you know I write absolutely everything as I go, I only ever have like 30% of anything figured out.

The entirety of my notes for Chapter 8: Did You Know ~

*insert that vine of the guy recording his friend, who sits up, then someone else sits up in bed beside him and he’s like “Ohhh OHOHO” and runs away but Archie is recording*

(This video)

Some possible ways that Chapter 10: Ready or Not could have played out ~

-Douxie and his fam go to see Charlie

-Douxie discusses what he and Archie discovered on rescue duty(what did they find??? I do not know)

    -prophecy??

    -underground wizard hideout place that took a hit in the hurricane???, douxie and co find themselves in the midst of like a magic gangwar type of thing???

-douxie finding out what his special power is that master wizards get ???

    -what even is it???

I clearly knew what was happening in Chapter 11: Deep Water ~

*banging fists on table* ANGST ANGST ANGST 

My highly detailed info for Chapter 12: Secrets ~

-Zoe has to go to the hospital??? 

-Douxie in the hospital chair asleep nearby 

-what even happened to her, f*** if i know

    -injured in the fight??

    -too much magical exertion 

-Zoe waking up from being drugged acting all weird (how weird is weird)

And a look at some things that were tossed around, some that were used some weren’t, in upcoming Chapter 13: Fire and Ice ~

-Zoe and Douxie return from the hospital to find Archie working with the formerly hostile hedgewizards 

- said mages agree to a hesitant pact to protect the city, mortals, and themselves in partnership with Chaos Family and whoever else they can get 

- Zoe decides it’s time to travel to see Tara in Boston, Claire teleports Zoe’s car to NYC for her bc the ship is very much out of commission. Chaos family road trip?? i talk about Zoe’s car too much but it is Vital Info

Under the cut: Bonus material from other fics and from conversation I’ve had recently with @nikibogwater​ regarding my writing processes!

Understatement of the year regarding Unless Spoken To ~

Douxie sees his father for the first time since he ran away and it doesn’t go over well.

Notes from We Will Rock You ~

remember that one time you jammed out to Queen in your car at like 11pm at night? yeah, that. and how fun getting your leather jacket was. that’s all folks

The vibes I got from Have it All ~

(sometime in my Saudade timeline idk you make it work)

Douxie really said no <3 to Zoe in the beginning there.

And lastly, wings!Zoe notes that are still in progress...

She gets a spear “made of a storm” the spear tells her it belonged to the Valkyrie Rota, ‘a goddess who sends sleet and storm’

Rota is one of the youngest of the valkyrie (use some of the poetry??)

Zoe has a pair of wings, sort of combining the swan-maiden story with valkyries 

Hawk wings with lichtenberg figures

The wings area very big, she has trouble with their weight/size at first

Buys taller heels so she can walk with her wings better

Doesn’t realize how to Not Have Wings for like a few days so she thinks she’s stuck with them

Zoe spends a while altering preexisting clothing or figuring out how it’ll work with her wings, relearning how to sew

Sparring pt 2 but now with wings (it’s a disaster)

And this little gem:

Anyways, thank you all for this crazy journey I set out on a couple months ago, I’ve loved the vast majority of it. I hope to give you guys all I’ve got in the works to come. Also, all the links to my works can be found in my pinned post to redirect you to Ao3. I didn’t link here because tumblr likes to eat posts with links in them. Hope you enjoyed this chaos for the day lol.

[impulse-writing]

Night Runners (1/?)

Rated: M

Summary: So a robot and a ninja fall in love... (Bladerunner/Altered Carbon AU)

A/N: Man, it’s been a while since I started a serious project. Hope you guys enjoy! And please take care :)

***

Yang was lucky it wasn’t raining.

Dangling high above street level, her arms strained as her fingers clutched the edge of the Sukeban building rooftop.

She began to pull herself up with one arm, her free hand reaching the lip of the parapet as she hoisted herself up to safety. Carefully, she used her feet as leverage against the steel frame supporting the building's high rise windows, and balanced herself on the edge.

Cold wind jostled her long hair, whipping blonde curls into tangles as she turned around and faced the open sky extending towards the horizon. 

Yang kept completely still as she listened. As she waited. Focusing on the sound of whirring rotors, of screaming sirens. Eyes straining for any sign of optic headlights searching for life signatures.

Nothing.

Yang turned towards the rooftop.

“Ruby…?”

“I’m here.”

Yang felt a burst of air escape her at the sound of her sister’s voice. She leapt over the parapet wall with an agile spring to her step, focusing on the colour red of Ruby’s jacket as she searched the roof. It didn’t take her long to find Ruby lying flat on the ground behind a whistling steel vent, panting, her face flushed, and her short hair matted over her forehead.

“Yo.”

Yang fell to her knees beside her. Her hands hovered the girl's inert body, hesitating in case she jostled injuries, before curling them against her thighs. “What in the hell were you thinking, Ruby Rose?”

“Can’t talk.” Ruby wheezed. “Need air.”

“You’re damn lucky I found out what you were up to.” Yang said. “I managed to scramble their cams before they caught your face on trid, Rubes. What if I didn’t arrive on time, huh?” 

Ruby wove a dismissive hand. “I could’ve handled it.”

"You could've handled getting chased across the city by ten Ravagers?"

"Yeah."

Yang dragged a hand down her face with a furious groan, her mind flitting through the many ways their night could have ended terribly. “The owner of that chop shop’s gonna be looking for us.” 

“It’s Sleet Labs, Yang, don't call it a chop shop.” Ruby muttered. “They deserve it, anyway.”

“It’s a still glorified chop shop, and we’ll talk about your poor sense of self-preservation later.” Yang said. “Please answer my dumb question, Ruby.”

Ruby smacked the asphalt with her hands and sat up with a grunt. “You needed it.” She said. “I can’t just sit by and watch you get worse. What if your arm stops working?”

“I’d rather have a malfunctioning arm than see you in prison.” Despite her anger, Yang caved in and wrapped her sister in a hug, swallowing the smaller girl’s frame. It allowed them a moment’s reprieve as she rocked her sister side to side, comforted by the fact that they escaped.

“Promise me you won’t do it again?”

She listened to Ruby breathe, her hands curling around Yang’s elbow. “You can’t tell me to stop helping you.”

“Dammit, Ruby.” Her words didn't even have any bite anymore, too drained to muster anything more than a sigh.

Shaking her head, Yang decided to save this conversation for later. Probably when they were no longer in danger of being caught.

“C’mon,” Yang stood and pulled Ruby up, dusting her pants trousers. “We gotta get outta here before they send in more Ravagers.”

 It wasn’t difficult outrunning a couple of Ravager tek drones in a chase. Their taser bullets were slow enough that someone as nimble and fit as Yang could avoid one or two successive shots. The true danger came from how loud they sang, and usually the city’s districts were rife with NAPD patrols rounding every miserable crevice of Neo-Anima. 

But downtown Higanbana was a no-fly zone. The presence of ruling gangs around this particular district were affluent enough, they didn’t hesitate to stack dirty credsticks with six-digit numbers to keep NAPD patrol cops at bay. 

They made their way to the rusty scaffolding, which rose from the side of the building like oversized pythons, ladders old enough that they creaked and swung precariously. By the time they reached the ground, they were out of there. Out over the chain fence that had a defaced ‘No Trespassing’ sign, and down an underpass covered with eclectic graffiti art and poor lighting.

Yang liked to think she intentionally led their drone pursuers to Higanbana, to help keep NAPD patrols off their tails, but the unfortunate truth was that they were lucky. Lucky they found the MTR shortcut, heading to the outskirts of Higanbana. Lucky they came across a forgotten construction site with half its framework still intact, its hanging girders stretched out long enough to keep them running. Lucky that Ruby managed to find and cut a stack of wire cables holding a concrete slab from above, losing half their pursuers in the resulting chaos. 

There were so many ways their night could have gone sideways. Luck, Yang thought, might not be on their side the next time they got in trouble.

Continue Reading

[thisfits]

Five Gray Flannel Trousers for under $150

Pictured above: grey flannel trousers from eHaberdasher.

Check out my 2020/2021 update: Flannel Trousers under $159.

Four Mid-Grey Trousers for under $150, published in 2014, is one of my perennially popular posts. Sadly, as Pete at Put This On once observed, expensive things aren’t getting any cheaper. While there are still many options out there for grey flannel wool trousers, most weigh in at over $200. None of the pants in the 2014 post are available anymore. Nor are any of the five options in a follow-up post. Some of the retailers seem to have abandoned carrying wool flannel dress trousers altogether.

Which is too bad. As I wrote in the original post:

A cool-weather staple and a garment on almost every “essential wardrobe” list, the grey flannel trouser is the functional equivalent of jeans in a tailored wardrobe—you can wear them with almost anything.

With a navy blazer, spread collar shirt, and striped tie you’ll be about as formal as you can get short of wearing a suit. Pair them with just about any sport coat in any color or pattern (except solid grey, of course) and they’ll go well together. Swap the sport coat for a navy chunky cardigan or suede A1 blouson and you’ve got a sophisticated casual look. They even look great with just a slim merino v-neck sweater in navy, burgundy or forest green for a reliable business casual outfit—though I recommend wearing that with interesting outerwear to keep it from looking too staid.

I set out to see if affordable grey wool flannel trousers are still a thing in 2019. I’m happy to report that they are, though with a compromise: you’ll notice I dropped “mid-grey” from the title.

Keep reading for the full roundup.

Buttoned Down Slim Italian Wool Flannel Pants

$139. Available in Charcoal. Offered by Amazon’s house label for tailored clothing, these trousers feature an extended tab closure and split waistband. Menswear indoctrination has me somewhat skeptical of charcoal trousers, but Simon Crompton of Permanent Style is an advocate. Peter at The Essential Man calls charcoal trousers his “secret weapon”.

One other thing: as a 5′6″ guy, I appreciate that Amazon offers these in 29″ and 28″ inseams, a rarity among major retailers. Matching jacket available (not a huge fan of the slim lapels). Also available in Classic fit.

Nordstrom Men’s Shop Trim Fit Flannel Wool Dress Pants

$129. Available in Grey Shade Heather (mid-grey) and Grey Sleet Heather (light grey). I appreciate that Nordstrom is the only retailer from the 2014 post that makes the list. These trousers from one of their house labels feature a slim fit (15″ leg opening on size 32) and are lined to the knee. They come unhemmed, but Nordstrom offers free basic alterations in-store.

Spier and Mackay VBC Flannel Dress Trousers

$148. Available in Medium Gray, Light Gray Twill, and Medium Gray Houndstooth. That’s “VBC” as in “Vitale Barberis Canonico”, the 350-year old Italian wool mill. I also like their oatmeal-colored light brown flannel trouser. For $10 more, consider Spier and Mackay’s high-rise flannel trousers, which feature a single pleat, side-tab adjusters, and an extended waistband. 

If you’re a first time Spier & Mackay customer, you can get 20% off your first order with my referral code 33UGHT.

Jomers Italian Wool Flannel Pants

$74. Available in Heather Dark Gray. Also sourced from Vitale Barberis Canonico. I picked up a pair of their Abraham Moon Donegal wool trousers a couple weeks ago, and I’m impressed by what they’ve been able to pull off at this pricepoint: extended tab closure, Bemberg-lined to the knee, and a rubber grip strip in the waistband to help keep your shirt tucked in.

Bella Spalla Gray Flannel Trousers

$135. Available in Medium Grey Melange. These are my current go-to flannel trousers — I’m wearing a pair right now as I type up this post. Bella Spalla is a house label for online menswear retailer eHaberdasher, who consistently produces quality garments at reasonable prices. Unfortunately, sizing is limited, so consider looking at grey flannel trousers from their other two lines, Benjamin and The Wardrobe.

[conspiracieys-archive]

dusan nemec, but as a supervillain. what powers would he have, where would his base be, how would he keep his secret identity if he has on, what would his super suit look like, etc.

hmmmmmm..... this is a good ask! well... let's see. long as usual so i tried to cut it under a read more (but u know mobile tumblr doesnt WORK so im sorry)

his secret identity. he keeps it secret really well, just because he's got a real good poker face and he also doesnt attack, like, places that can be traced back to him. (the exception is the DedSec hq, assuming in this au theyre the superheroes in parallel to him)

but the hq thing is covered by the fact that there ARE a lot of anti-dedsec people ANYWAY (bc there's always gotta be a few ppl who just hate the heroes). but also hacking is a commonplace thing nowadays and in the WD universe (and consequently this au), hacking is just... Insanely Huge? everyone and their mom seems to be a hacker, so if electronic fuckery happens, it's not GUARANTEED to be his fault ya know?

(also he has like... super enhanced intelligence as a ..power (see below) so like, it's not hard for him to come up w excuses or be tactical about when he does his Villainous Shit)

[ALSOOOOO -im writing this after ive written almost everything else sry- he doesn't like..... reveal he has powers. to the world, Dusan Nemec is just an incredibly good coder and he's just got a genius intellect. but his Villain flaunts his powers and takes pride in what he can do.

so it's like "Well, Dusan, do what that villain did" and Dusan sits down and like, painstakingly writes line after line of code to try and mimic the effects of his technopathy but he can't do everything technopathy can. so it's really hard to pin it on him. ppl still suspect though. they always suspect.]

--

POWERSSSSSSSS. i was gonna save this for last but then i realized: his primary power is technology manipulation. the good guys with this power would be technopaths, but he LIKES the phrase 'technology manipulation' because Dusan likes to be able to manipulate things... people... technology... to do whatever he wants.

so like before he came into his power of technopathy, he was still really, really good with coding. he'd never admit to having hacked things before working w ctos, but he has. and then... [insert backstory here] and now he can bypass the need to code and just ... MAKE ctos respond to him. he can pull up any surveillance cam at will, he can access any file remotely (we will address this in the Super Suit section), he can hack the traffic lights, he can just... do anything.

and w his personality, THAT is what makes him a supervillain.

if you don't have ctos or blume devices in your house, he bypasses ALL of it and forces Blume and ctos software to install. hell, your sexy Samsung smart fridge? literally now it's just been forcefully turned into a Blume fridge. w his remote access he can just turn any phone he passes into a ctos phone. like only another technopath (DedSec - technopathy would be one of the biggest requirements to get into the core of DedSec) can prevent Dusan's abilities from infecting and destroying and essentially controlling their technology.

he also has slightly superpowered intellect. which i think is a stupid ability but also i'm giving it to him anyway cuz he's considered a genius within the wd universe. so why not throw in the fact that his mind itself, aside from technopathy, has been quite altered and has significantly more improved functioning than the rest of us.

and lastly he does have an Eidetic memory. which isn't rly a superpower by itself but in combination w superpowered intellect and technopathy makes it an asset to his power set, ya know?

he can and will remember exactly who has ctos installed, who doesnt, if he had to do it or if they were willing, etc.

and he definitely remembers every little tidbit he finds abt DedSec

--

ok so since we've established he's a technopath now, and we know there are weird basement levels of Blume's HQ, at least 3 rooms are just HIS to use. like no one, not even another technopath, can access them. just bc he has Blume HQ fortified to the nines. i mean DedSec could probably TRY and maybe succeed at getting into Blume HQ itself but like, they won't get into his underground base.

like no one knows that three rooms off of the server rooms are even... there? he's got sexy hidden doors. like false servers?? where to the eye they look and glow and flicker like proper servers but they're secret doors. legit no one knows they EXIST much less how to GET TO THEM. his HQ is, like, solid af

--

super suit. ok like the main thing is he has a helmet. like.... a fitted full head helmet w tinted tempered glass in the screen. it's all black on the outside, and like nice cushy fuckin memory foam on the inside (sleek and black too ofc) and the visor is also a computer. (remote access!)

his base outfit is a black fitted body suit that is also, like, technologically fitted?

i just want it to be glowy ok?? he also has it programmed so that when he uses his technopath abilities and channels them thru his hands, his finger tips light up bc he's just That Bitch.

in theory his helmet visor/screen could emote like Wrench's mask

over his body suit, he has like. ok bear with me but like. skinny black sweats? they're not super tight or super loose. they sit low on his hips and end mid calf. i love Dusan and i love his sweats ok. he wears them always i'm trash.

also he's stupid and has shoes build into his body suit basically? like they're really nice and have good support and they're just... part of the body suit.

no he does not wear anything over the top of his bodysuit. also obvs the body suit is like, from his chin to his toes, w long sleeves and gloves as well.

his glowy bits are like, sleet and soft grey.

it's gotta be weird cramming his dumb beard into his suit and helmet but he does it. for fashion and to give away as little as possible in regards to his identity.

oo also he has like a speaker in his helmet that works as a voice scrambler. so it's like. even harder to trace to him, and w his technopathy he can change the scrambler at will.

like deadass one time he attacks DedSec he makes his voice scrambler sound EXACTLY like Wrench and it's shaking.

he doesn’t have any visible logos, just cool tech-y lines down his sides, arms, and legs. probably his back too? by tech-y lines i mean the kind you see on microchips and stuff.

--

ok let's talk abt weaknesses bc i rambled abt how GOOD his technopathy is.

but bc of his superior intellect, and just based on canon stuff, Dusan is... like the ULTIMATE stereotyped villain in that he just... loves to Monologue.

so it's easy to drop a virus into his system if you just keep him talking.

like say he's showin down w DedSec and he has all but Marcus tied up and he's gettin ready to kill Marcus but Marcus gets him monologuing so, like, Wrench can use his own technopathy to manipulate a virus into Dusan's suit.

the thing is, Dusan is aware 99% of the time. he's aware of his suit's system. he's aware of how his system connects back to Blume HQ and his private offices off the server room. he's aware 99% of the time of everything

but when Marcus fucking Holloway plays dumb as a box of rocks, Dusan Nemec canNOT help but mockingly explain things to him. and Marcus is used to ppl thinking lesser of him, so it's really easy to play it up until...

WELL, YA KNOW???

n Marcus fucking BOOKS IT to save DedSec while all sort of DS imagery is popping up on Dusan’s visor screen and Ode to Joy but, ya know, the DedSec version all loud and violent, is BLARING into his ears and he cant THINK and he’s scrambling and by the time he can get his brain to focus and force out the virus, DedSec is gone

(he never learns, either. but sometimes it’s Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture or some shit. it’s always a different violent crescendo of a classical song, ok? he never ever learns but he comes to DESPISE classical music.)

that’s like, his biggest weakness. he can’t help but, well, mansplain when he thinks he’s better than everyone in the room (which is always) and someone asks a stupid question. he’s such a jerk in canon, and this au/concept makes it worse bc he has like, veritable proof that his brain is more capable than others.

--

and, for the grand finale of this answer, Dusan Nemec’s Super Villain name...

i have NO FUCKING CLUE. here are some options:

the Coder, the Hacker, MicroGhost??? bc he like... can come and go like a ghost??? microchip, fantasy name gen just gave me Incognito which is so stupid i love it??? idk give me suggestions.

tysm for the ASK. let’s get back on this DUSAN SHIT

[junker-town]

My 5 favorite moments as an NFL and college football player

The Chiefs traveled to the DC area for a snow game in 2013.

In this week’s mailbag, Geoff Schwartz takes a trip down memory lane before turning his attention to the NFL Combine.

It’s officially NFL Combine workout season, which means your favorite players either confirmed what scouts thought about them or ran slower and lost money. I covered the process of combine training and how it’s changed over the years. Before you read the mailbag, that piece is worth the eyes.

We’ll talk a little about the combine in this week’s mailbag, but first, I’m going to answer a question from my own career.

Do you have a question you’d like Geoff to answer next time? Hit him up on on Twitter or Instagram.

What was your all-time favorite moment playing football? — @itsmeyames

I’m not sure I have a definitive all-time favorite moment, but I have plenty that would qualify:

1. My first snow game

I grew up in Los Angeles watching all the November and December football games being played in the snow and dreamed about having that opportunity one day. It finally happened in 2013. We (the Chiefs) traveled to DC to play Washington. The field was covered in snow for the first half. We dominated them and won by four touchdowns. The second half was mostly sleet, which was miserable. But the combination of snow + the blowout win was amazing.

2. My first start

It came in Week 15 of the 2009 season on Sunday Night Football. We (the Panthers) were 5-8 and playing against a Vikings team with Brett Favre that was destined for the NFC Championship Game. The Vikings had an awesome defensive line with Jared Allen, the “Williams Wall” of both Kevin and Pat, and Ray Edwards.

It was a tough spot for me to get my first start. The coaches altered the gameplan a bit to give me more help and move the pocket some. I played well, we won, and it was a blast.

There are a couple things I remember most about that game. First, how tired I was. I was exhausted by the middle of the second quarter. All the emotions of starting for the first time can be overwhelming for anyone. Secondly, late in the game, we called a run play and I ended up on the ground face-to-face with our center, Ryan Kalil. We just hysterically laughed under the pile at each other. Such a cool memory.

3. The Odell catch game

It was my first start for the Giants in 2014, and we all know about the catch. But what I remember most was the buzz in the stadium. I’d never experienced anything like that electricity. Everyone in the stadium knew it was a special play, but I doubt we thought it would be life-changing for Odell Beckham, Jr.

4 and 5. Two loud moments in college

I’ve never experienced a louder stadium than Autzen in Eugene. It’s painfully loud at times, and two times from my Oregon career stand out.

We intercepted Mark Sanchez to beat USC in 2007. It was the end of USC’s reign and the beginning of Oregon’s run through the conference. It was a monumental moment in program history, and the noise in the stadium reflected that.

The previous year, we won after blocking Oklahoma’s game-winning field-goal attempt. I’ll never forget the noise that erupted from the stadium as I ran onto the field to celebrate.

Who’s your favorite player in the 2020 NFL Combine and why? — @EndweII

I’m not a draftnik. I do not spend all season watching college film to prepare for the draft. That’s a full-time job, and I have other gigs. I watch film for the Joe Moore Award, but for the most part, I’m watching Pac-12 film.

So instead of listing my favorite players, I’ll explain the purpose of the combine workouts, which get all the attention. Combine workouts let scouts double check what their eyes see on the film. Scouts and front office personnel have already watched every snap of these players. They have a good sense of how prospects will test. When a fast player runs fast, like Henry Ruggs III from Alabama, it confirms what the film shows.

If a player who looks “slower” on film runs fast, then scouts must return to the film to find out why that doesn’t show on film. Does that player have poor footwork? Is it more top-end speed and not a burst? The inverse is also true. If a player who appears fast on film runs slower at the combine, you need to rewatch the film to find out why that is. That is what the combine is for.

I always hear about how Prospect X is going to just throw on 20 pounds of good weight in the pros. Is this common? I feel like most guys I see are about the same size as they were in college. — @JDB_219

This is far more common in college, where players routinely enter a college strength program underdeveloped. Their bodies can undergo a rapid change, whether it’s up or down. When you get older, it’s tougher on the body to make these changes. Plus, you’re in a different type of strength program, one more about maintaining than heavy lifting in the NFL.

Of course there are players who need to gain a few or more commonly lose a few, but you don’t often see big weight swings unless players are switching positions.

[arabellaflynn]

I remember predicting when we moved into this place that I'd spend my bad days sitting in bed, staring out the window at Dorchester Bay. Right now I'm staring at where the bay would be, were it not for the intervening fog, but otherwise my guess seems to have been rather accurate. My left hip hurts. I'm not sure if it's something in the joint or in my lower back that's objecting, but it's doing so vociferously. It has the same peculiar electric quality as the moment you bash your funny bone, or bite down on tinfoil with a metal filling. It's not the dull throbbing red ache or the sharp stab of having actually injured myself; it's the pointless pain of a nerve that is holding a grudge over something, possibly something imaginary, and doesn't want to let go. It started before Arisia, but I had a show to do, so I ignored it until I noticed it was starting to make my gait go funny on stairs. Funny thing about neuropathic pain; even if it didn't begin with you actually injuring something, your body responds as if you had, by knotting the muscles around the sore spot in order to protect it. I wanted to put my foot sideways and tip my knee in so I could pull myself up stairs with my thigh rather than push from behind, even though that did nothing to change the way anything felt. Survival instincts are odd sometimes. In any case, walking cockeyed like that will eventually do real, tangible bad things to your knee. So I made myself locomote normally until I got home from work on Friday. I made sure I had nothing to do over the weekend. I think I had a peanut butter sandwich for dinner. And then for the next two and a half days, my meals consisted of tea and painkillers, because fuck me. Certain kinds of movement help, but shockingly enough, there is a limit to how much hula hooping I can do in one go. I don't know what it is, because I make myself stop at the end of the movie, but I assume this limit exists, especially when I'm getting most of my calories from instant Thai tea mix with "cream" (read: dried milk solids and non-dairy coffee creamer powder) and sugar (amazingly, real sugar). I've spent most of the rest of the time trying to pull my left knee over my right shoulder. Me being me, I am having an unreasonable amount of success at this, but can't get anything new to pop, so as soon as I let go it goes right back to hurting. People ask me, "How much does it hurt?" I don't know. More than 'ouchie' and less than 'I can't stand up'. The standard pain scale that runs from "happy face" to "crying frowny face" isn't very useful for chronic things. It's more good for acute pain of recent onset, where you can compare how much something hurts now to how much it didn't hurt before. If you were fine 48 hours ago and now you're doubled over and begging for a morphine smoothie, that's important diagnostic information. If it's hurt the same for a week and a half... maybe that's normal? Who knows? This is more useful. It ranks pain by how much it affects your ability to function, rather than how it 'feels'. This is something I can note intellectually even when my internal monologue is mainly reminders to smile at others, interspersed with a lot of free-floating, family-unfriendly words. I have a rule that says I am allowed to think whatever I want, as long as I behave like a civilized human being. I routinely do not notice how much something hurts until I realize that, while I've been physically negotiating the T like a normal member of the herd, I have been fantasizing about kidney-punching every. single. person. in front of me until the fucking crowd fucking moves fucking faster go just go what is the fucking matter with all of you JUST GO. According to that chart, I have learned how to compensate for up to about a 6.5. I don't know how seamless it is; I can't tell from inside, because it is an altered state of mind, and it's distracting when every other thought you have is ow fuck i want to go home. Probably if you knew me well you'd notice I wasn't the zippiest I've ever been, but for people who aren't accustomed to me and my big mouth, it would be undetectable. I hit 5 regularly, usually with musculoskeletal stuff that makes moving uncomfortable. I kept putting off a trip to the supermarket, because while walking down to the T stop would be moving and therefore better, exiting both the house and the station at the other end would involve stairs, and being on the train would mean sitting or standing still for a while, both of which made things much worse. I can do certain things up to about a 7, especially if nobody bugs me to take my hat or sunglasses off. (Those are usually either from migraines or eventually bring one on, so light is my mortal enemy.) I have to be given time to make a plan, and then allowed follow through on it without any interruptions or alterations. I don't have enough capacity to recalculate if something changes, or make any new decisions, however small. If you try to force me to do either of those things, I deadlock and fall apart. Being sick will also grind me down that far. I remember a time, years ago, when I had the honest-to-God flu, and a roommate who was trying to be nice asked me if I wanted her to leave the windows open or closed when she left for work. I hauled the blankets over my head and wailed at her not to make me responsible for the state of the windows. Around 8 is when I start bowing out of plans on the grounds that I am 'sick'. At that point I am not physically capable of giving a shit about consequences anymore, so I just send out cancellation messages and go to bed. You could set the house on fire around me and I'd just curl up tighter in bed and think 'huh. fire now. okay i guess'. A guy on reddit recently illustrated how depressed he'd been in the past with the story of how a guy with a gun jumped out at him one night and demanded his wallet, and he just said, "No." The mugger was very confused and eventually went away, but the point wasn't that he was stalwart or brave or fierce; it was just that was in such a state of shutdown that he had no feelings left one way or the other about being shot, and lacked the energy to be robbed properly. [I don't recall ever hitting 10, but I may have hit a 9 when I was five and broke my forearm. The part I do remember is that they kept giving me IM Demerol, and I kept telling them it wasn't doing anything. They finally topped me out and had to set the bone no matter what. I don't recall that specific chunk of the night, which is probably a thing my brain has done on purpose. I'm told I went dead white and nearly passed out. I definitely hit a 9 the time I cracked a molar and exposed a root, which was infected by the time I could afford to go to the dentist. It is the only time I have ever seriously considered banging my head against the floor until I passed out, because the initial bottle of Vicodin and the later bottle of Percocet did not work. I coped by sleeping as much as I could, titrating myself full of NSAIDs, and knocking back DXM until I was no longer aware of having teeth.] People also ask me why I keep doing stuff, if things hurt 'that much'. Firstly, define 'that much'. Nobody ever tells you when that is, or gives you any good criteria for deciding for yourself. If you're sitting down, it doesn't hurt 'that much' and you're a lazybones who should be working like everyone else. If you're still doing things, then it's your fault for not taking care of yourself by sitting down when it hurts 'that much'. I do it for the same reason I walked home last night festooned with four bags of groceries and two hula hoops, in sleet and wind gusts of up to 40mph: There isn't another option. I was at the T stop. I needed to be at home. So I walked. It was unpleasant. Lots of things are unpleasant. You learn very quickly that your feelings do not matter. The universe is a cold sociopathic kidnapper holding a gun to your head and telling you that you will do the thing or you don't get to survive. So you do the thing, and shut the fuck up about it before worse happens. If you're incapable of doing the thing, you might get mercy the first couple of times, but it's at the whim of your captor. Someday they're going to run out of whims. You trudge home in the sleet anyway, in case that that day isn't today. I hope that didn't sound inspirational. It wasn't meant to be. I am incredibly cranky right now, and that was meant to be an illustration of my current mood, and why I have given up and decided to just spend the day in bed crying. I do not do things while I am in pain because I am strong or courageous or whatever. Don't kid yourself. I do things under duress.  from Blogger http://ift.tt/2juazKg via IFTTT -------------------- Enjoy my writing? Consider becoming a Patron, subscribing via Kindle, or just toss a little something in my tip jar. Thanks!

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Golf — Weekly 18 — Marc Leishman ready to shed “underrated” label?

A continuing story of perseverance, a developing story of dubiousness, a unique story of benevolence.

This week’s edition of the Weekly 18 has all of ’em, starting with a story that almost never happened.

1. Even before his title contention at the Dell Technologies Championship two weeks ago and his victory at the BMW Championship on Sunday, the scuttlebutt within golf circles was that Marc Leishman just might be the world’s most underrated player. In fact, it’s a notion that has been suggested so much in recent weeks that it might be enough to insist he isn’t underrated anymore. Whatever the case, this much we know: He’s really good. With one event left in the season, Leishman owns two wins, seven top-10s, 15 top-25s and made the cut at all four majors. He’s not flashy. He doesn’t wow crowds with massive drives or incredible putting performances. He’s just really good — and that’s enough.

2. The story has been told before. It has been told so much, in fact, that it might not still have the impact that it should. But the story of Audrey Leishman’s health battle, one which left her in a coma two years ago with a 5 percent chance of living, is worth telling again. I wrote about it when he won the Arnold Palmer Invitational back in March and since then, the couple has welcomed a third child to the family. Here’s the operative quote from Leishman: “I was ready to give it away. If Audrey had passed away, I was going to be a dad and that was it. It didn’t cross my mind to keep playing golf.” All of which makes his current success even more substantial.

3. One of the best perks of reaching the Tour Championship — you know, other than all those extra greenbacks lining your pockets, even for a last-place finish — is that it comes with invitations into each of the next year’s first three major championships. (The PGA Championship isn’t always a given, solely based on this qualification.) There’s usually one player who earns that golden ticket, one guy who clinches a first trip down Magnolia Lane based on his play during the first three playoff events. This year, that player is Tony Finau. He has never competed in the Masters, and while that may have seemed like a foregone conclusion, he can now start making plans. “[It] means everything,” Finau said. “The four majors, four WGCs. To have those locked in next year would be huge. You play to play against the best players in the world and get in those fields.”

4. As noted on the telecast as he finished Sunday, this was the first tournament in which Jason Day posted four rounds under par since May, when he lost in a playoff at the Byron Nelson. It was an important one, too. Day is trying to salvage something at the end of what has been a trying season, both on and off the golf course. Prior to this past week, he announced that longtime caddie Colin Swatton wouldn’t be on the bag, leading to speculation that he was grasping for an answer that might not exist. Instead, he finished in fourth place — and now has one more chance at that elusive victory before the season is over.

5. Day won a brand-new BMW M760i for his hole-in-one at the 17th hole on Friday afternoon. He gave it right back to the Evans Scholars Foundation, which helps fund the educations of young caddies, and BMW tossed in an extra $100,000, as well. “I realized that someone came in and said they’re giving $100,000 to the Evans Scholars Foundation,” Day said. “I’m like, that goes toward helping someone go through college. I talked to my agent about it, ‘Can we do that with the car?'” Yes, he can. Classy move.

Rickie Fowler and caddie Joe Skovron are one of five of the player-caddie pairs in the world top 10 in which the man on the bag has never looped in a professional capacity for any other player than their current boss. Gregory Shamus/Getty Images

6. Caddies matter, I wholeheartedly believe that. Years ago, I asked PGA Tour pros to quantify the impact of a strong looper on their performance. The guesses — and yes, they were all just guesses — ranged from a full stroke per round to just one stroke per tournament. As if that alone isn’t a big enough variable, consider this: A “good caddie” can’t be judged solely on past experience. In other words, the guy who helps one player on the bag might not be right for another. As if to only support that point, five of the world’s top-10 players currently employ caddies who didn’t previously serve as a professional in that role for somebody else. Dustin Johnson, Jordan Spieth, Jason Day, Rory McIlroy and Rickie Fowler employ men who are, respectively, a brother, a teacher, a friend, a friend and a fellow pro golfer. Yes, a good caddie can have a positive impact on a player’s performance. But there’s no singular blueprint as to what a “good caddie” really is.

7. Patrick Cantlay has always been a can’t-miss kid. He was all-everything as an amateur, nearly posting a 59 at the Travelers Championship when he was just 19. Since then, he has suffered through some health issues and personal setbacks, but the talent has never left. This year, playing a limited schedule to protect a balky back, Cantlay made the cut in all dozen tournaments he has played, including a second-place finish in Tampa, third place at Hilton Head and results of 10th, 13th and ninth in the first three playoff events. With a final-hole two-putt birdie on Sunday, he not only squeezed into the Tour Championship field, like Finau, he’ll be able to cherry-pick a schedule next year that includes competing in each of the first three majors. Expect to see his name on a lot more leaderboards when he does.

8. Strange stat of the week: With Rory McIlroy failing to reach the Tour Championship, this makes eight of the 10 FedEx Cup champions who have failed to reach the playoff finale one year later. The only two who have returned? Brandt Snedeker in 2014 and Jordan Spieth three years later.

9. The changes have yet to be announced, but we can now readily assume that alterations to the FedEx Cup schedule will happen for the 2019 season. It’s possible there will only be three playoff events and likely that they’ll end on or before Labor Day, offering more of an offseason for both players and fans. Here’s one more potential change that has been floated: Starting in two years, the Tour Championship might be played in the regular 30-man field from Wednesday through Sunday, with a shortened field — maybe a half-dozen players — competing for an additional winner-take-all prize on Sunday afternoon. I’ll write more about this in a piece early this coming week, but it could be the perfect way to appease both players and fans.

10. First things first: The biggest story from this week’s Evian Championship — the LPGA’s fifth major chronologically, if not also in respectability — was indeed the champion. Anna Nordqvist won her first major in 2009, but looked like she might claim a second at last year’s U.S. Women’s Open, until a delayed ruling cost her 2 strokes in the final round. Consider this victory a healthy dose of karma, as Nordqvist got into the clubhouse, held onto a share of the lead, then survived a playoff with Brittany Altomare to clinch the title with a bogey on the sleet-splattered first extra hole.

Anna Nordqvist’s second major title came in a playoff victory Sunday at the Evian Championship in France. And just like her last close call at a major — the 2016 U.S. Open — there was plenty of controversy surrounding the tournament. Stuart Franklin/Getty Images

11. Speaking of karma, it can often be a you-know-what. After the literally and figurative mess that rained down upon the Evian earlier in the week, perhaps we should’ve expected it to end in a playoff on the long, difficult-to-reach par-4 18th hole while it was sleeting and the grounds crew was squeegeeing the final green. But, hey, it could have been worse: If the playoff had continued, the second extra hole would’ve been played on the same 18th hole, followed by the third extra hole on — you guessed it — the 18th again.

12. Now let’s get to that bigger controversy. On Thursday morning, with most players in the early wave already on the course in treacherous conditions, play was suspended and quickly postponed for the remainder of the day. Rather than continue playing from that point on Friday, officials invoked a long-standing rule to wipe out all scores and begin from scratch with the event relegated to 54 holes. Strictly by the book, it was a legal move by LPGA/LET standards, but it’s certainly a bad look — especially for a tourney that was only deemed a major in 2013.

13. The reason officials decided to scrap those initials scores? It was considered an equality issue — or more to the point, an inequality issue, since nearly half the players had to compete in poor conditions while the rest wouldn’t start their rounds until a glorious, calm Friday morning. Well, this just in: Golf isn’t fair. It’s not supposed to be. As many players rightly insisted after the decision, this is an outdoor sport. Getting the right side of the draw or the luck of the land is an integral part of the game. This is also a dangerous precedent for the LPGA. The next time bad weather forces an early-Thursday suspension, those players on the bottom of the board will be able to cite this decision as rationale for a similar do-over.

14. The story of this decision would have — or at least could have — ended as Thursday faded into Friday, except for a big asterisk. That would be the one attached to Sung Hyun Park’s opening-round 8-under 63. The world’s third-ranked player initially started with a quadruple-bogey and triple-bogey, standing at 6-over when the suspension began. Good for Park in taking advantage of a second chance, but the 14-shot swing only shined a greater spotlight on the decision makers.

After Marc Leishman’s wife Audrey nearly died two years ago before the Masters, the Aussie is bringing awareness to the disease that nearly killed her. His win at the BMW Championship will surely help that cause.

The shot Phil Mickelson needed to advance to the Tour Championship looked good all the way, but it ran just over the edge of the hole, probably traveling a bit too fast to drop.

Marc Leishman wins the BMW Championship with a tournament record 4-under 67 in Sunday’s final round.

2 Related

15. Let’s end the Evian talk on a positive note. Ai Miyazato played her final LPGA round on Sunday, finishing while surrounded by many of her fellow professionals who’d come to the 18th hole to greet her — and by Gary Player, who brought a bouquet of flowers. The final LPGA win total for Miyazato rests at nine, though perhaps the most surprising thing about her illustrious career is that despite 10 top-10 finishes at majors, she never won any of them. However, ask anyone associated with the LPGA and they’ll maintain her biggest impact was her personality and demeanor, that ever-present smile easily the lasting image of her career.

16. David Skinns is 35 years old. He has never owned a PGA Tour card. In fact, he’s only played in three PGA Tour events, making the cut in one, the 2014 Puerto Rico Open, for which he earned a whopping $21,306. This week, though, he was so close he could almost taste it. Skinns needed a top-five finish at the Boise Open — the second event of the Web.com Tour Finals — to clinch that long-elusive card. With rounds of 69-66, he was T-9 at the midway point … when his wife went into labor with their second child. Skinns promptly withdrew from the tournament and returned home to Georgia for the birth.

17. Maybe that sounds like an easy decision to some people. Family comes first, we always say. And so when your family needs you — especially when that family is expanding — you’re supposed to drop everything and be with them. And yet, it’s also easy to see it from the other side. If Skinns believed the best way to provide for his family was to clinch his PGA Tour card and play for greater riches over the next 12 months, he couldn’t really be faulted for that decision, either. Instead, he chose to withdraw, with everything on the line for his career. What a commendable move, one that deserves all the respect he’ll receive.

18. There are plenty of players to root for at the Web Finals. The journeymen, the dreamers, the come-backers — all of them worthy of support. But I’m not sure any of ’em will have more of it from the masses during the final two events than Skinns.

The post Golf — Weekly 18 — Marc Leishman ready to shed “underrated” label? appeared first on Daily Star Sports.

from http://ift.tt/2wnLET9 from http://ift.tt/2xK0Qdp

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Golf — Weekly 18 — Marc Leishman ready to shed “underrated” label?

A continuing story of perseverance, a developing story of dubiousness, a unique story of benevolence.

This week’s edition of the Weekly 18 has all of ’em, starting with a story that almost never happened.

1. Even before his title contention at the Dell Technologies Championship two weeks ago and his victory at the BMW Championship on Sunday, the scuttlebutt within golf circles was that Marc Leishman just might be the world’s most underrated player. In fact, it’s a notion that has been suggested so much in recent weeks that it might be enough to insist he isn’t underrated anymore. Whatever the case, this much we know: He’s really good. With one event left in the season, Leishman owns two wins, seven top-10s, 15 top-25s and made the cut at all four majors. He’s not flashy. He doesn’t wow crowds with massive drives or incredible putting performances. He’s just really good — and that’s enough.

2. The story has been told before. It has been told so much, in fact, that it might not still have the impact that it should. But the story of Audrey Leishman’s health battle, one which left her in a coma two years ago with a 5 percent chance of living, is worth telling again. I wrote about it when he won the Arnold Palmer Invitational back in March and since then, the couple has welcomed a third child to the family. Here’s the operative quote from Leishman: “I was ready to give it away. If Audrey had passed away, I was going to be a dad and that was it. It didn’t cross my mind to keep playing golf.” All of which makes his current success even more substantial.

3. One of the best perks of reaching the Tour Championship — you know, other than all those extra greenbacks lining your pockets, even for a last-place finish — is that it comes with invitations into each of the next year’s first three major championships. (The PGA Championship isn’t always a given, solely based on this qualification.) There’s usually one player who earns that golden ticket, one guy who clinches a first trip down Magnolia Lane based on his play during the first three playoff events. This year, that player is Tony Finau. He has never competed in the Masters, and while that may have seemed like a foregone conclusion, he can now start making plans. “[It] means everything,” Finau said. “The four majors, four WGCs. To have those locked in next year would be huge. You play to play against the best players in the world and get in those fields.”

4. As noted on the telecast as he finished Sunday, this was the first tournament in which Jason Day posted four rounds under par since May, when he lost in a playoff at the Byron Nelson. It was an important one, too. Day is trying to salvage something at the end of what has been a trying season, both on and off the golf course. Prior to this past week, he announced that longtime caddie Colin Swatton wouldn’t be on the bag, leading to speculation that he was grasping for an answer that might not exist. Instead, he finished in fourth place — and now has one more chance at that elusive victory before the season is over.

5. Day won a brand-new BMW M760i for his hole-in-one at the 17th hole on Friday afternoon. He gave it right back to the Evans Scholars Foundation, which helps fund the educations of young caddies, and BMW tossed in an extra $100,000, as well. “I realized that someone came in and said they’re giving $100,000 to the Evans Scholars Foundation,” Day said. “I’m like, that goes toward helping someone go through college. I talked to my agent about it, ‘Can we do that with the car?‘” Yes, he can. Classy move.

Rickie Fowler and caddie Joe Skovron are one of five of the player-caddie pairs in the world top 10 in which the man on the bag has never looped in a professional capacity for any other player than their current boss. Gregory Shamus/Getty Images

6. Caddies matter, I wholeheartedly believe that. Years ago, I asked PGA Tour pros to quantify the impact of a strong looper on their performance. The guesses — and yes, they were all just guesses — ranged from a full stroke per round to just one stroke per tournament. As if that alone isn’t a big enough variable, consider this: A “good caddie” can’t be judged solely on past experience. In other words, the guy who helps one player on the bag might not be right for another. As if to only support that point, five of the world’s top-10 players currently employ caddies who didn’t previously serve as a professional in that role for somebody else. Dustin Johnson, Jordan Spieth, Jason Day, Rory McIlroy and Rickie Fowler employ men who are, respectively, a brother, a teacher, a friend, a friend and a fellow pro golfer. Yes, a good caddie can have a positive impact on a player’s performance. But there’s no singular blueprint as to what a “good caddie” really is.

7. Patrick Cantlay has always been a can’t-miss kid. He was all-everything as an amateur, nearly posting a 59 at the Travelers Championship when he was just 19. Since then, he has suffered through some health issues and personal setbacks, but the talent has never left. This year, playing a limited schedule to protect a balky back, Cantlay made the cut in all dozen tournaments he has played, including a second-place finish in Tampa, third place at Hilton Head and results of 10th, 13th and ninth in the first three playoff events. With a final-hole two-putt birdie on Sunday, he not only squeezed into the Tour Championship field, like Finau, he’ll be able to cherry-pick a schedule next year that includes competing in each of the first three majors. Expect to see his name on a lot more leaderboards when he does.

8. Strange stat of the week: With Rory McIlroy failing to reach the Tour Championship, this makes eight of the 10 FedEx Cup champions who have failed to reach the playoff finale one year later. The only two who have returned? Brandt Snedeker in 2014 and Jordan Spieth three years later.

9. The changes have yet to be announced, but we can now readily assume that alterations to the FedEx Cup schedule will happen for the 2019 season. It’s possible there will only be three playoff events and likely that they’ll end on or before Labor Day, offering more of an offseason for both players and fans. Here’s one more potential change that has been floated: Starting in two years, the Tour Championship might be played in the regular 30-man field from Wednesday through Sunday, with a shortened field — maybe a half-dozen players — competing for an additional winner-take-all prize on Sunday afternoon. I’ll write more about this in a piece early this coming week, but it could be the perfect way to appease both players and fans.

10. First things first: The biggest story from this week’s Evian Championship — the LPGA’s fifth major chronologically, if not also in respectability — was indeed the champion. Anna Nordqvist won her first major in 2009, but looked like she might claim a second at last year’s U.S. Women’s Open, until a delayed ruling cost her 2 strokes in the final round. Consider this victory a healthy dose of karma, as Nordqvist got into the clubhouse, held onto a share of the lead, then survived a playoff with Brittany Altomare to clinch the title with a bogey on the sleet-splattered first extra hole.

Anna Nordqvist’s second major title came in a playoff victory Sunday at the Evian Championship in France. And just like her last close call at a major — the 2016 U.S. Open — there was plenty of controversy surrounding the tournament. Stuart Franklin/Getty Images

11. Speaking of karma, it can often be a you-know-what. After the literally and figurative mess that rained down upon the Evian earlier in the week, perhaps we should’ve expected it to end in a playoff on the long, difficult-to-reach par-4 18th hole while it was sleeting and the grounds crew was squeegeeing the final green. But, hey, it could have been worse: If the playoff had continued, the second extra hole would’ve been played on the same 18th hole, followed by the third extra hole on — you guessed it — the 18th again.

12. Now let’s get to that bigger controversy. On Thursday morning, with most players in the early wave already on the course in treacherous conditions, play was suspended and quickly postponed for the remainder of the day. Rather than continue playing from that point on Friday, officials invoked a long-standing rule to wipe out all scores and begin from scratch with the event relegated to 54 holes. Strictly by the book, it was a legal move by LPGA/LET standards, but it’s certainly a bad look — especially for a tourney that was only deemed a major in 2013.

13. The reason officials decided to scrap those initials scores? It was considered an equality issue — or more to the point, an inequality issue, since nearly half the players had to compete in poor conditions while the rest wouldn’t start their rounds until a glorious, calm Friday morning. Well, this just in: Golf isn’t fair. It’s not supposed to be. As many players rightly insisted after the decision, this is an outdoor sport. Getting the right side of the draw or the luck of the land is an integral part of the game. This is also a dangerous precedent for the LPGA. The next time bad weather forces an early-Thursday suspension, those players on the bottom of the board will be able to cite this decision as rationale for a similar do-over.

14. The story of this decision would have — or at least could have — ended as Thursday faded into Friday, except for a big asterisk. That would be the one attached to Sung Hyun Park’s opening-round 8-under 63. The world’s third-ranked player initially started with a quadruple-bogey and triple-bogey, standing at 6-over when the suspension began. Good for Park in taking advantage of a second chance, but the 14-shot swing only shined a greater spotlight on the decision makers.

After Marc Leishman’s wife Audrey nearly died two years ago before the Masters, the Aussie is bringing awareness to the disease that nearly killed her. His win at the BMW Championship will surely help that cause.

The shot Phil Mickelson needed to advance to the Tour Championship looked good all the way, but it ran just over the edge of the hole, probably traveling a bit too fast to drop.

Marc Leishman wins the BMW Championship with a tournament record 4-under 67 in Sunday’s final round.

2 Related

15. Let’s end the Evian talk on a positive note. Ai Miyazato played her final LPGA round on Sunday, finishing while surrounded by many of her fellow professionals who’d come to the 18th hole to greet her — and by Gary Player, who brought a bouquet of flowers. The final LPGA win total for Miyazato rests at nine, though perhaps the most surprising thing about her illustrious career is that despite 10 top-10 finishes at majors, she never won any of them. However, ask anyone associated with the LPGA and they’ll maintain her biggest impact was her personality and demeanor, that ever-present smile easily the lasting image of her career.

16. David Skinns is 35 years old. He has never owned a PGA Tour card. In fact, he’s only played in three PGA Tour events, making the cut in one, the 2014 Puerto Rico Open, for which he earned a whopping $21,306. This week, though, he was so close he could almost taste it. Skinns needed a top-five finish at the Boise Open — the second event of the Web.com Tour Finals — to clinch that long-elusive card. With rounds of 69-66, he was T-9 at the midway point … when his wife went into labor with their second child. Skinns promptly withdrew from the tournament and returned home to Georgia for the birth.

17. Maybe that sounds like an easy decision to some people. Family comes first, we always say. And so when your family needs you — especially when that family is expanding — you’re supposed to drop everything and be with them. And yet, it’s also easy to see it from the other side. If Skinns believed the best way to provide for his family was to clinch his PGA Tour card and play for greater riches over the next 12 months, he couldn’t really be faulted for that decision, either. Instead, he chose to withdraw, with everything on the line for his career. What a commendable move, one that deserves all the respect he’ll receive.

18. There are plenty of players to root for at the Web Finals. The journeymen, the dreamers, the come-backers — all of them worthy of support. But I’m not sure any of ’em will have more of it from the masses during the final two events than Skinns.

The post Golf — Weekly 18 — Marc Leishman ready to shed “underrated” label? appeared first on Daily Star Sports.

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