#and had thrown aside their critical thinking caps

[ash-dark-desires]

I don't normally watch YouTube analysis videos about tcoaal because most of them are, quite honestly, trashy and superficial but I just watched one and

From all the bs I've heard about the game and/or the siblings, this is the one (i'm paraphrasing):

"Ashley doesn't have self-worth issues, she doesn't struggle with self-image. She just pretends in order to manipulate Andrew with that."

BOY, DID WE PLAY THE SAME GAME???? Literally all the complicated shit between Andrew and Ashley starts because of her insecurities and fears (there's stuff regarding Andrew but you know what I mean)

What about the lady from 302 and the outcome????

I literally had to pause the video when I heard that. More reasons why I only consume stuff about tcoaal on Tumblr.

[zyonsay]

Hey I wanted to ask if you could write a Yuki Tsunoda X male reader smut? :)

Maybe where the reader helps Yuki steam off after a bad race or something Yknow? I'm sorry I'm not that creative with ideas 😭

I hope you can make sense of it haha And if you don't want to write for him that's okay as well<3 (or if I didn't saw his name in the list for the people you don't write for, I apologise)

Pearl Necklace YT22

fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Maybe he needs to blow off some steam

Reader: Male

Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Biting, Blood (Everything is consensual)

Now playing: 'Take me to Church' by Hozier

AN: Hello guys! This took longer than expected haha, but im kinda happy with the outcome. idk its 1 in the morning so i might be wrong lol. But anyways, first Yuki content on my blog!! love that <3 This somehow has me thinking of vampire Yuki......

Gloves flew through the garage, one landed on a stack of tires the other fell to the ground and was left there. He ran a hand trough his black strands, muttering something while walking down the pit lane. Some worried looks were thrown his way, but that only made him angrier. He didn’t need any pity, who did they think he was? He could swear that he felt his blood blubber and boil in his veins.

While fidgeting with the baseball cap in your hands, you closely watch the screen, a camera was being shoved in Yuki’s face. God, this feels like watching some stupid drama show and not a sports program. His now ungloved hands were balled into fists and his expression looked sour, or at least the look in his eyes did, since he was still wearing his helmet. With a swift movement Yuki escaped the media and made a run for the team hospitality, where you had been waiting for him. You would’ve watched the race from the pit wall, but a terrible headache had come over you. The sun was cruelly shining, and your headache just got worse, so you retreated inside to take some meds.

The door was closed, not so gently though. You heard muffled steps and the low rumble of your boyfriend. He was easygoing and a fun guy for sure, but he was also very critical of himself. Whenever he didn’t place well, Yuki always thought that it was his fault alone. A few moments pass and a head of raven hair peeked trough the door. With little to no care he slid of his shoes and kicked them aside before taking a few quick steps towards you. Knowing how he must feel you rushed off your chair and immediately into his arms. “Hey there.” The whisper that fell from your lips was very quiet, only you two could hear it. Well, there weren’t many people around anyways, but you still kept your voice low. His shoulders were tense and maybe it was your imagination, but he seemed to be shaking with anger. “I don’t wanna think about this bullshit right now.” Yuki scoffed slightly, his silky black hair was messed up from the balaclava and his eyes darted around the room in a nervous manner. He slid one of his hands behind your neck, like a threatening snake, but you know that he’ll always be careful with you. With a swift motion, he had pulled you into a kiss. It was hungry, even starving. There was a longing sensation in the way his breath trickled down your cheek, he wasn’t begging. He was demanding.

A soft gasp fell from your lips, then a small hum of pleasure slipped out too. His eyes darted up to yours, it almost seemed as if his pupils were dilated like a cat who had just discovered it’s prey. His hand came up from underneath your shirt and gripped your throat. Yuki’s body was pressed against yours, squishing you in between his warmth and the door of his driver’s room. Your blood was stirring and swirling around your veins, a tingly feeling had sat itself in your stomach. Admittedly, you felt bad for Yuki but something about him being furious is so irresistible.  The thoughts in your head were shushed away by the growing feeling of dizziness, his hand hadn’t left your neck yet and you were struggling to get any air. A smile tugged at his lips, before he loosened his grip and pressed a few kisses along your jaw. Heavy breaths made your chest heave and sink, you gently pushed your boyfriend backwards. Your gaze darted towards his dark eyes. They were almost completely black, only from very close up you could see a hint of brown in them.

The back of Yuki’s legs hit his chair, which was pulled out from underneath the desk. He reached back and scooched the chair closer to him, and then sat down. He tauntingly tilted his head, waiting for your next move. His eyes were trained on yours, it almost seemed as if he was testing you. But you weren’t gonna let him have this. You too tilted your head, keeping eye contact with him. The driver’s rooms are small, so only a few steps were enough for you to stand right in front of him. His dark lashes fluttered while his characteristic smile spread over his face. “Come here.”, he whispered while gesturing to his lap. You were about to swing your leg over his, as he quickly turned around you your back was pressed closely to his chest. He reached around your torso and began unbuckling your belt. His lips lingered over your neck; his breath felt awfully hot on your skin. Yuki’s soft kisses quickly turned into love bites and his hand was teasing you trough your underwear. This was too much and too little at once, you could’ve exploded right there. In a swift motion, he had pulled down your boxers. The cold air hit your member and a shiver ran down your back, this made Yuki smile, you could feel it on your neck. His left hand massaged your thigh while his other one gently took your cock and began stroking it slowly. Way too slowly. Out of desperation you bucked into his hand, earning you a chuckle and a light slap on your thigh. A sweet whine escaped your throat, and you leaned your head back against Yuki’s shoulder. Your boyfriend hummed in approval, “Does that feel good?” Yes, it did. God, it was fucking incredible. Caught in a haze, you could only stammer out what seemed to resemble a weak ‘yes’. Soon after he sped up his movement, tightening his grip around your dick slightly, shortly after being rewarded loud gasps from you. He was enjoying this scene, it put him at ease. You were melting like putty in his hands, in moments like these he could do anything with you. This sense of control pleased him tremendously, but this was a mutual game.

Yuki bit down on your shoulder, leaving deep teeth marks in your skin. One day you would have to get those trending bitemark tattoos for sure. But for now, the pulsing raspberry redness was more than enough. Once again, he sped up and kept kissing your now sensitive, irritated skin. A hot, sweet feeling was pooling in your stomach. A stinging sharp pain surged through your neck. And before you knew-

-it had stopped. Yuki’s teeth were sunken deep into your skin, when he let off small droplets of blood began pooling in the dents his teeth had left. They were crimson red and looked like beautiful red pearls. You whined and winded in his touch, from pain, frustration but mostly from want. He delicately hummed before gently licking a long stripe from your shoulder up to your jaw, savoring the iron-like taste of your blood. “Love you.”, he whispered before he began jerking you off again.

[cotncandyboifics]

A Lovely Night: Chapter 6

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~4k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, vague description of an anxiety attack, implied heavy restriction (ED), school setting, inner monologue-style anxiety description, food mention, eating, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: <<>>

...

Logan did not know what to do with himself. The past week had thrown him off his figurative rhythm far more than he could have possibly anticipated.

First, a lead actor who he'd already been trying his best not to look at - with his accursed pretty hair and handsome face and big muscles - decided to attempt to court him? Logan felt mocked. There is no conceivable possibility that such a beautiful - and might he add, quite pompous and bothersome - man would have any sort of real interest in him, romantically or sexually. He shuddered slightly. He really should have taken the apple his roommate had offered him for breakfast that morning, but it was too late now.

And wouldn't you know, just a week later, a - dare he say - equally pretty man with mesmerizing blonde curls and a cheeky smile takes an interest in him at his own school . After years and years of having never been asked out, no one having taken an even remote interest in him, not one second glance, Logan had two men asking after him in the span of a single week. Men who he found atrociously gorgeous, in fact. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, glasses riding up his forehead a bit.

This alone would have been enough. But he just had to go into that little sewing shop for his dear friend Patton's birthday present, and that boy with the purple bangs who stumbled over his words and his feet was completely and undeniably flustered by Logan's presence. Perhaps he was simply experiencing an ego boost from his two previous encounters that week with pretty men, but he felt that the attraction the boy seemed to have for him was unmistakable.

And now here he was, pacing down the sidewalk toward the library, headed off to meet - Janus, if he recalled correctly - for their first study session. He didn't know what the hell he'd been thinking when he asked to meet Janus again, the very next day no less... perhaps he felt the need to seize the moment while it was present, or however the saying goes. Regardless, while his actions had been quite uncharacteristically spontaneous, he saw no logical purpose in redacting his decision; Janus seemed to be an individual with plentiful intellect, and studying with fellow students had generally proved to be a beneficial tactic in Logan's (albeit minimal) experience and (far less minimal) research. Meeting with Janus, even if it wound up simply being this once, should be no different.

Logan avidly ignored any simmering feelings that he wanted something more than to spend time with Janus just this once.

He was shaken from his thoughts when his phone started ringing in his pocket. He examined the screen, noting the time - 2:49 PM, he wasn't late for his engagement with Janus just yet - as he checked who was calling. It was an unknown number, but the area code was local. Logan frowned, pressing the answer button.

"Greetings, Logan Lattimer speaking."

-

Virgil was kind of panicking.

His boyfriends each happened to meet this super-cute space-nerd guy in the span of a week, and the second they'd talked to him they were all heart-eyes. Not that Virgil was complaining; the guy sounded really cute.

He knew first hand now, that he was in fact super cute . That was the problem.

Virgil's lunch break came and went, most of which he spent gnawing vaguely at a sandwich and staring anxiously at the contact card that had been in Logan's wallet. It simply had his full name and phone number on it, nothing else. He tapped it on the desk in front of him, glancing between the numbers and his own phone, set face-up beside his elbow.

And then his lunch break had ended, and he had several more hours of worrying before he had to convince himself to call Logan.

Something occurred to him, during those hours. Should he tell his boyfriends?

What would he even say? There wasn't much to tell, at least not that warranted calling them before he got home. If he was going to make any calls, there was one he was under obligation to make first. And if he were to seek comfort in them for his obligation, what would they say?

Roman was probably the lesser option; he'd been whining about Logan all week, and now that he knew Janus was meeting with him again today, tensions were especially high. He'd be no help whatsoever, Virgil was sure of it.

And speaking of Janus meeting Logan again today... that also meant no. Calling your boyfriend who was about to see the guy you were nervous to call made the situation all kinds of awkward. No, everything would be easier if he'd simply call him.

So, shaking his shoulders out a bit, he did. He stepped into the break room, grabbed his phone and the contact card, and dialed the number.

His thumb hovered over the call button for a few seconds too long. He cursed under his breath and looked away as he pressed it, bringing the phone to his ear. it rang twice, and then a slight static preceded a familiar voice.

"Greetings, Logan Lattimer speaking."

Virgil was glad he'd drew in a breath to hold when he'd pressed the call button, because he wasn't sure he could recall how to breathe properly.

"Hey, this is Virgil, um, from the knitting supply shop? Uh, you kinda left your wallet here..." Virgil managed to cough, voice not breaking as much as it could have. His chest felt cold and constricted, and he wrapped one arm around himself to fight off the burn of the icy spears stabbing through his lungs.

"Ah, hello Virgil. I am currently on my way to a separate engagement, however it should not take long. At what time would it be acceptable for me to return to your place of business to retrieve my belongings?"

"Oh, uh- I'll be here till four," Virgil stuttered a bit, surprised at how fast Logan jumped to planning mode, as well as realizing he knew the precise nature of the so-called separate engagement Logan was about to attend.

"That is adequate. I will make sufficient efforts to arrive before that time. See you then."

With that, the line disconnected, and Virgil was overwhelmed by the eerie silence of the break room. He glanced at a half-empty box of donuts their manager had brought in yesterday.

He could have said that the shop actually closed at six, and that Logan could get his wallet from Emile, but his train of thought hadn’t been screwed on properly when he’d been speaking, so he could grant himself a little slack- wait, he was mixing his metaphors now...

Suddenly, the door swung open, Emile peeking out from behind it.

"Virgil, could you get back out here? We've got a little rush," and he ducked out, gone as quickly as he’d arrived.

Virgil sighed, shuddering away his anxieties, grabbing a donut hole and popping it into his mouth before heading out to join his colleague.

-

Janus was sitting at a table set between the rows of shelves, reading pensively beneath a subtle desk lamp where Logan found him. He glanced up and smiled gently when Logan arrived, who set his things down beside a chair opposite from Janus'.

"Apologies, Janus, but I must cut our studying session short in about 45 minutes - i left my wallet at a nearby shop this morning, and must retrieve it before 4pm." Janus' eyes sparked with something Logan couldn't place, and he hid a smirk behind steepled gloved fingers. Logan gulped imperceptibly. "Perhaps we can set up another time to study as well- um, to make up for it, I mean?" He rushed his words out in a short breath, running his fingers through his hair to collect himself. Janus' smirk broadened very slightly, and Logan found himself watching the lines of Janus’ face as they shifted.

"It would be my pleasure." Janus averted his eyes for a moment, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he thought. “Perhaps we should exchange information, so that I might- so that we can settle on a proper time for another engagement.” Janus reached into his inner coat pocket, producing his phone and tapping away for a moment, before passing it to Logan. He took it carefully, recognizing a blank contact screen, and quickly entering his information into it. He handed the phone back to Janus with a tight smile, and Janus returned it, sliding his phone back into the same pocket before resettling himself in his seat more properly.

Janus set aside his book to pull out a few textbooks for their critical thinking class. "If we are cutting our study session that precisely short, that would provide me with a chance to surprise-" He faltered for a moment, tone changing, though it was so subtle Logan almost thought he'd imagined it - "a friend of mine after his shift. Now, where did your class get to in the lecture today?" He started thumbing through the pages of a particularly thick but small book, holding it by the spine with one hand.

"Ah... Professor Cauley was stopped short on page 461 when he became distracted with his electric pencil sharpener malfunctioning, and class ended a few moments later. He did inform us that the other class had made it to page 465, so if you need me to catch up to you, it should only take me a few minutes." Logan was rifling through the pages of his textbook intently, not noticing Janus' surprised expression.

Janus reached a hand out, cautiously setting his hand on Logan's wrist, just beneath his wristwatch. "Don't fret," he breathed, "it appears we share the same class period. If I recall correctly, Professor Cauley’s face went positively red with rage, and he nearly broke the poor sharpener worse as he tried to unjam it." Janus chuckled shyly through his words as Logan met his eyes, smiling after a moment.

“Fascinating. I wonder how I have not noticed you in class before?” Logan tilted his head very slightly, and noticed something swimming warmly in Janus’ eyes. They were quite a very lovely golden brown, he thought.

Janus shifted, looking down to adjust his own texts, but the smirk that was growing less snarky by the second never left his lips. “It is a rather large class. It can be easy to lose faces in the crowd. I’m not sure I can pick out more than three people with whom I share that  class if they were to pass me in the halls. But no matter.” Janus glanced at Logan’s textbook and notes, readying his pencil. “Shall we begin?”

-

Logan was talking animatedly as he hunched himself over his notes, Janus glancing up to watch his face behind its shield of deep brown bangs intermittently as he scribbled in his own notebook to (at least attempt to) keep up. Janus’ gaze was averted, however, when a repetitive chime sounded from Logan’s phone, sitting face down on the desk just beside his right forearm. He stopped mid-sentence, adjusting his posture and picking his phone up, flipping it over to view the screen. He sighed, deflating slightly, as he tapped the screen once, setting the phone back down.

“My apologies, Janus, but it appears that it is time for me to depart.” Logan stood, a colder, sharper version of himself taking the place of the one that holds a deep passion for learning. The beautiful ice crystal, despite its beauty, is still the twin of the icy shards that cut sharper than knives or spears, Janus thought.

Janus stood swiftly, joining Logan in his gathering of his personal belongings, shoveling his own texts into his own bag. “It is quite alright, I assure you, Logan.” They met eyes as Janus spoke Logan’s name, and Janus could swear he saw a subtle, blotchy pink settle in Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll be headed down Main Street, then. Perhaps-” Logan cleared his throat, glaring down and to the side at nothing in particular as he retried his statement. “I will be expecting to hear from you, Janus.” They walked side by side out the front of the library, stopping just past the doors to say their goodbyes. But Janus had a small realization, and felt the creeping suspicion crawling its way up his sides returning. He resisted the urge to shake or twitch it away, grinding his teeth a bit.

Instead of continuing to suppress his stimming, he cleared his throat, speaking to Logan. "I am headed down Main Street as well. I hope it is not out of- I hope that it isn’t inappropriate for me to ask, but...will you allow me to accompany you?" Janus asked, nearly moving to offer his arm to Logan, but deciding quickly that that was far too forward. He settled on spreading an arm out, gesturing to the concrete path before them that led to the sidewalk.

Logan offered a small smile. "That would be adequate, and not inappropriate in the slightest. I, I would enjoy your company.” A beat of silence, and Logan cleared his throat. “Just this way," and Logan set off, at an impressively brisk pace that Janus nearly had a hard time keeping up with, having been caught off guard.

They walked in stride with one another as they made their way down the street. Janus became increasingly suspicious of the scenario the closer they got to the sewing shop. From what he knew of Logan's situation, there was no conflicting evidence that would disqualify the possibility that Logan was headed, in fact, toward Virgil's workplace. Janus held his breath when they turned onto the very same block, watching Logan's body language soften as they did.

Janus took a deep breath, glancing at the sign of the sewing shop a pace or two ahead.

"Logan, there's something I wish to discuss with-"

Janus glanced at the sewing shop's sign once more as they passed, but didn't move to stop before the door until he realized Logan had done so, standing a bit stiff a few paces back.

"This would be the establishment I spoke of," Logan's eyes looked a bit hazed, vaguely pointed towards the door handle. He seemed not to have heard Janus’ beginnings of a confession. Janus’ eyebrow quirked ever so slightly.

"Interesting," he breathed quietly, and Logan met his eyes then. "Allow me." Janus reached a gloved hand out to open the door for Logan, bowing slightly as he held it open.

"Much appreciated," Logan commented, stepping through the doorway smoothly.

-

Virgil was sitting slouched behind the counter, typing random numbers into the cash register out of boredom. He was half considering going to bother Emile, but he was busy doing inventory. And besides, Virgil needed to stay behind the register in case any customers came in. One person behind the counter at all times, that was the rule. He sighed, bringing his hand to his face and tapping on the tip of his nose absentmindedly.

The bell chimed, and Virgil looked up from behind his mop of purple hair. His heart gave a few beats a bit harder than usual, and he felt his throat constrict slightly.

There was Logan again. And the whole rest of the world became background noise.

The line of Logan's mouth widened, creating a crease or two on each side. Virgil realized that not only was he staring at Logan's lips, but as well that Logan was smiling. At him.

"Hello, Virgil," He spoke softly.

"Hi," Virgil practically coughed, the scratch in his throat making it borderline painful to speak. "H-how was your, your day?" Virgil asked, pursing his lips as soon as his words had left them.

Logan inhaled, raising his eyebrows and averting his eyes from Virgil's intense brown ones. "It has been satisfactory." The door chimed again behind Logan as it shut, and Virgil suddenly recognized that there was another person in the room. A person whose presence felt immediately familiar...

"Ah, my apologies," Logan stepped to the side slightly, allowing the person to come into full view. There, with a small sheepish smile, stood Janus. "Allow me to introduce-"

"Logan, dear, that won't be necessary," Janus rested a gentle gloved hand on Logan's shoulder, and Virgil couldn't tell if he was about to pass out from gay panic or just regular panic. "We are... quite well acquainted." Janus smiled tenderly to Virgil, and Virgil's whirring brain slowed if only slightly. He was safe.

…but… was he though?

-

"Oh, is this the friend you spoke of earlier, whom you meant to come and meet? How coincidental, that we were on our way to meet the same person without either of us having any prior knowledge of it." Logan was caught up in his fascination so much that he did not notice Virgil beginning to hyperventilate, knuckles white as he gripped the counter, or the way Janus was watching, practically frozen.

But, as Logan's commentary came to a close, it was as though a flip switched inside Janus’ mind, and he quickly strode around Logan. He stepped quickly behind the counter and over to Virgil, all while nearly whispering little nothings like "oh oh oh," "hush now love," and "come here dear."

Logan's brain took a moment to catch up, and soon he was simply standing there, watching as Virgil clung to Janus' coat rather desperately. Virgil’s body shuddered in silent sobs as Janus wrapped his arms around him, tight and secure. Janus was still whispering to him, but it was inaudible to Logan now.

Logan didn't quite know what to do, and so he just stood there, feeling rather stuck for a long time. At some point, he set his backpack and the gift bag he'd gotten from this very store earlier that day down against the counter on the floor, folding his hands before him. At some point, he registered Janus giving him an apologetic look, which confused him.

And then Janus kissed Virgil on the forehead, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes. Logan thought from the way Janus was nodding softly and the way their chests moved together, that they may be doing a breathing exercise. He couldn't focus on much else, so he tried to follow along and copy them as well. 4, 7, 8. 4, 7, 8.

Sooner than later, Janus was leading Virgil carefully back out around the counter, both looking slightly worse for wear, but at least Virgil was far calmer. Janus smiled meekly at Logan again, and he still couldn't quite understand what was happening. It appeared that Virgil had had an anxiety attack, but the way Janus had rushed to comfort him so quickly, the way he seemed to know exactly what to do-

"Here you go, Logan," Virgil's voice was a bit scratchy as he reached out his hand, Logan's familiar black leather wallet between his pale fingers. Logan cleared his throat.

"Thank you," He spoke a bit more quietly than he meant to. He suddenly felt his headache flare again in full force, and had to fight not to shake as he reached his hand out to retrieve his wallet from Virgil's hands. He barely succeeded, but Virgil seemed to notice something amiss - he was watching Logan's wary eyes with some mix of suspicion and concern.

Janus, however, had been staring at the floor, and did not notice Logan's onset of fatigue. He sighed, clearing his throat softly. "Logan, I suppose you deserve some kind of explanation. One I tried to give before we’d come in, but regardless." Suddenly Virgil's eyes were on Janus, and far wider than Logan thought possible. Janus just glanced at him, nodding gently, and Virgil's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Virgil and I are..."

Janus laced their fingers together, and Logan's vision went blurry, everything around him fading to static fuzz as he tried to remember to breathe. He'd eaten more than enough today for this to be happening, surely? ...Had he eaten today? He couldn’t recall. He could always remember ... He vaguely registered Janus still speaking in the background, but he couldn't care enough to force himself to refocus. He got the jist. He and Virgil were romantically involved, and Janus was interested in nothing more than a friendship with Logan. That was perfectly fine. He didn't mind. He forced away the roiling feeling in his gut and gulped down the sting starting to tingle in his eyes, forcing himself to nod.

"Understood," He blurted, voice a bit raspy. He turned toward the door, reaching for the handle. Before he fully exited, he threw over his shoulder, "I look forward to seeing you later this week, Janus. And thank you again, Virgil." And with that, he was gone.

He made his way down the block briskly, trying to shake the haze that clouded his vision. The only thing he could think to do was go and see Patton. He knew nothing worked magic on his body like a good black coffee.

-

"Virgil and I are..." Virgil looked down as Janus laced their fingers together, and looked back to Logan, whose face seemed to have gone paler than it normally was, which was quite horrifying to see. Considering Logan was already so white that his skin tone bordered on inhuman, now it was devoid of any pricks of red coloring and looked almost like an empty tinted gray, pronouncing his cheekbones and eye bags even more so. Janus looked between them, continuing after a moment, "...we have been romantically involved for several years now, and even longer with our partner Roman, who you may recall from the community theatre? He's expressed to us that he's quite taken with you, in fact... And I know this may be a lot to spring on you right now, but I thought you deserved to know... it felt wrong to pursue anything with you romantically when we- when you didn't have the facts straight, and even regardless, it's important for you to know that all three of us are-"

"Understood," Logan cut Janus off, nodding. He didn't speak harshly, in fact his voice was quite quiet, but it was curt and forward as Logan always was, and so cut through Janus' words like a frozen blade.

Janus looked at him in awe, and opened his mouth to speak, but Virgil gripped his arm before he did. Logan was already at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t really look at either of them. "I look forward to seeing you later this week, Janus. And thank you again, Virgil." Janus and Virgil watched as Logan walked out the door and straight down the sidewalk through the shop window.

Emile, who apparently had been standing there for at least a few moments, cleared his throat awkwardly. Janus and Virgil looked at him in unison, matching exasperated looks on their faces.

"U-um, Virgil, I was just gonna check in, see if you've clocked off." Emile wrung his wrists between his fingers awkwardly.

"Um, no not yet," Virgil bit the corner of his lip, muttering a 'sorry' as he stepped past Emile and paced quickly to the back room to clock off. Janus stared blankly at the floor where his boyfriend had just been, eyebrows knit in thought.

"You feeling a-okay there, Janus?" Emile dipped his head a bit to get Janus' attention gently. Janus blinked a few times, engaging with Emile as he re-centered himself in the present moment.

"Yes, Emile, I'm fine, thank you," Janus rubbed his gloved palm with his thumb anxiously. He couldn't think of anything to add, so Emile smiled carefully, nodding and stepping away to resume whatever busywork he needed to attend to.

Virgil was back again shortly, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He gave Janus a strange look, some kind of combination of pity and sadness and confusion. At least, that's how it looked to Janus.

"Ready to...?" Virgil gestured vaguely towards the door, leaning into Janus' personal space a bit. Janus offered him his arm, clearing his throat and holding his chin high.

"Yes, love. Let's get home to Roman."

As they walked to the bus stop together, neither had any clue what they’d say to their Prince. He’d be distraught, they were both sure, and significantly more so than he already was, which would be… intense. Janus squeezed Virgil’s hand in his own slightly, and smiled somberly at him sideways.

They’d figure this out. They always did, eventually.

Janus took his time on the bus typing out a message to Logan, Virgil watching from the seat beside him as his head laid on Janus’ shoulder. Janus settled on something simple.

To: Logan L It's Janus. I'd love to meet up to study, or perhaps discuss other things, some time this week. Let me know if Thursday or Friday works better for you.

[tortoisenottortoise]

Am I the only one who likes seeing muscular women in media more than muscular men?

Alright so, this one will probably end up much shorter and a little more ranty than I'd like, but this is kind of personal so be fairly warned. 

 Recently I've seen a few complaints about the new He-Man show and honestly, I fully understand and empathize with them. Whilst I haven't fully seen the show, from what I've viewed I can personally speaking agree (or at the very least understand) where most criticisms come from. I think it's incredibly shitty that the writer basically lied to his audience about how the show would run. Now normally I'd be fine with a twist such as He-man dying, but he's an important part of the show and the way the marketing & merchandising for it was running kind of comes across as him basically using He-Man's name to get people into the show. I also feel like it's fine to view Teela as obnoxious and annoying, nothing about her personality-wise seems likable to me. I also heard a few complaints about Orko's (I think that's his name, don't crucify me) backstory and how his character was handled.Yet as the title suggests one that didn't stick with me was the criticism of Teela and a general trend towards the criticism of women in media as being "masculine". 

I've heard over and over that Hollywood representing strong women by giving them masculine traits is a bad thing and yet... I kind of don't get it? It feels odd to say, almost like I'm the dumbest man alive for admitting something which most people on the internet seem to be so sure about, yet I just don't understand where this is coming from. I've seen this thrown at She-hulk, Wonder Woman, Abby, and many other characters, yet when inquired it usually loops back around to, "Yeah they have muscles", and that's about it. This type of criticism in specific seems to overly focus on the appearance of said characters. It's the one critique I just can't get behind and it feels like at best it's a shallow criticism that fails to get its point across, and at worst it's actively demeaning to women who desire to or show masculine traits. But first, let me break this down into sections.

Section 1: Muscles =/= Masculinity (In my opinion at least)

Oh boy, I feel like this is a section that might rustle some feathers, but I'm going to try and explain myself best as possible. I simply do not view muscularity as a feature that is inherent to or should be inherent to men. I'm not going to pretend as if muscular men aren't more saturated in media and art, nor as if they're societally treated as masculine, but one of the reasons I fail to understand this criticism is that I see muscles beyond the horizons as being just a masculine trait. 

I believe that muscles should instead be seen as a sign of hard work and determination. As someone who's currently trying (and struggling) to stay healthy and fit, it's much harder than a lot of media portrays it to be. It's a test where you push yourself to the limits, not just for the sake of doing it, but so you can improve as a person. Whenever I go to the gym and see a muscular gal or guy walk by, my immediate thought isn't, "how masculine" or anything like that my thought is, "wow! They worked hard to get like that, I should work hard as well!". 

This interpretation tends to feel like it's just simply taking a piss on people who actively work hard to achieve higher levels of strength. Especially when society places and enforces these unrealistic standards onto people. If you don't have a six-quintillion pack nor can bench press a fucking house then you're worthless, of course, that is unless you actually attempt to pursue said standards which in that case you're automatically dismissed as cheating your way to gaining your muscles instead of putting any work in. And that's just for men who often don't have to deal with traditional idiots who are stuck in the year 1950 where I can't walk on the same street as them. My skin crawls when reading tweets from older men talking about how weightlifting women are "ruining their fertility" and I absolutely hate it when people in my life treat these women as if they're mythical creatures from a fairy tale, or when females who have trained to such a degree are simply dismissed as being inferior. 

Obviously, I don't think the people who say this are like that, but whenever I hear this type of critique I can't help but think of the culmination of all these experiences I've gone through. But then again, this might honestly just be because I'm personally attracted to muscular women.

  Section 2: Body type diversity

  Another reason that I tend to like muscular women in media over muscular men is simply due to the sheer oversaturation of muscular men. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem if anybody likes muscular men. I totally get wanting to shove your face in between some man titties or get inspired by their physiques. In all honesty, almost everything I said earlier can directly apply to men, but one of the reasons I bring up body type diversity is that there tend to be much less muscular women than men. I

f anything, I'd have to say that muscular men are almost treated as the default when it comes to things like superhero comics, movies, video games, anime, etc. In a similar vein, the default for women tends to be slim and curvaceous, you get the drill. Whenever someone who doesn't fit into either body type shows up and isn't treated like a joke/gag or a character to rip on, I can't help but be happy about it. As much as I have no clue wtf is going on with TLOU2, I can appreciate that Abby's portrayal doesn't seem to exist solely as a joke meant to demean women for working out. I'm excited when an anime protagonist is a fat character who can go beyond just being a "fat guy" and is treated the same way a normal person would be.

 Regardless of what you think about whatever trait you're criticizing, there's probably someone out there who fits it. If you're not into it or dislike it, then that's fine, but I'd rather have that expressed than it being actively made out as a harmful trope as opposed to just literally another body type that some women have.

  Section 3: Muscular women inspire me more

Ok so, we've now blown into a full-on personal experience, buckle up boys, girls, NBs, anything in between, and I feel like I'm forgetting someone so apologies! But yeah, muscular women in media tend to be a lot more inspiring than people seem to give them credit for. This comes down to a mix of both the qualities I outlined earlier in what makes the characters inspiring but also plays into the idea of body diversity. 

One of the traits that make amazons seem more inspiring is their inherent rarity/lack of screentime. As I stated earlier, whilst I do enjoy my fair share of man-titties, it kind of gets to a point where it's more depressing than inspiring when all you see is just super-models shoved in your face whenever you walk into a theater. If for every Goku I could find ten other guys who were on the chubbier side then I'd be able to take more from when I see Goku and other characters with his body type, yet it's so saturated that it no longer becomes something to aspire to, but simply the norm.  It's not that you can work to become muscular or skinny with hard work and effort, you have to be muscular or skinny unless you want to be deemed a failure. Being chubby often isn't presented as a starting point but just treated as a defect. As someone who spent years battling with my own self-perception, that's just not a good message to get across.

Now, this obviously isn't to say that people can never make muscular characters. After all, it's their story so they can put whatever they want in it. The aim of the game isn't to stop people from making a specific type of character, but to encourage a diverse set of people to make a diverse set of characters. This is the reason why I view muscular women as so inspiring. Instead of coming across as just "the norm" or "the standard" they stand out from the crowd and despite knowing what they have to deal with, are still ready and willing to work out and improve their bodies. They had a goal in mind and set time aside to achieve said goal, that's something I can get behind.

  Conclusion:

This will be another short section, but I just wanted to mention it because it caps off my thoughts on this post in general. What originally started as me just not getting the reason why people disliked Teela's design somehow turned into a passionate rant and I'm A) not sure if it fits on this particular subsection of the community, B) scared I'm going to get ripped to pieces, and C) somewhat unsatisfied with all that I said. At the end of the day, this probably won't be seen by too many people, but to those who do see it, I hope you have a wonderful day. I just wanted to talk about something that was near and dear to my heart and hoped that I made it clear why I view things the way I do. 

P.S: Can we stop having this double standard where we act like women whose arms show the slightest hint of definition are "unrealistic" whilst men can look like tree trunks and be considered normal and healthy? please and thank you!

[exauhstedsunflower]

So, I’m writing Marvel now…

The thing is, Marvel is a special interest for me. Has been for a long time. The MCU while it has its downsides (I will never forgive them for what they did to Steve Rogers.) is one of my favorite movie franchises of all time. It’s a crime that I haven’t written any fics for it yet, honestly.

This isn’t nearly finished, and I have no idea when it will be or how long it’ll be. It doesn’t even have a name or full plan yet. But it’s a fun project for me. I want to explore the fact that Captain America is from the 40’s, however when he wakes up he is still in his twenties. He’s technically the youngest on the team while simultaneously being way older and being treated as way older than everyone around him. It picks up during the first Avengers film and is written from Tony’s POV. (Again, so far. It’s not done and I could still switch POV’s every once in a while.)

All that being said, enjoy!

Steve hates him. He hates Tony. Tony Stark. Son of his old friend, Howard Stark.

The old bastard was right, isn’t that just ironic.

Endless fights over Tony being a disappointment. Being nothing like the Greatest Man Howard Ever Knew. Howard never shut up about the great Captain America, so of course Tony knew this was coming.

Tony had tried when he was younger, he did. He’d tried to be better, braver, stronger, faster, witty in a way Howard would appreciate. But after a while he’d realized that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he’d never live up to what Howard wanted from him. Howard said daily that Captain America, Steve Rogers, would be disgusted by Tony. And Tony had just about recently decided that he was moving on from all of his daddy issues and metaphorically telling Howard to shove his criticisms very far up his ass. And, isn’t this just the kicker, Steve Rogers is right in front of him confirming it all.

“Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

Exactly what everyone thinks I am, obviously.

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

What? He’s not about to make it easy on Captain America of all people. If anyone can handle his sass, it’s the so called bravest man who ever lived.

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. Yeah, I've seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

Wow, okay. He’s really laying it on, isn't he? He must be really pissed. In all honesty, Tony hadn’t thought it would be so easy to get to him. Or, rather, to get him to a point where he’s actually making personal, cutting blows.

Still, Tony doesn’t want to cause an actual fight. If he wanted that he’d have started off a little more strong, like how Rogers is. What with all the steam coming from his ears. Howard hadn’t mentioned the potentially problematic short fuse in all his ramblings. Whatever, just keep deflecting and find a way to defuse, then. He’s been around long enough to know when the right time to fight is. Currently they have a volatile, murderous psychopath who obviously wants them all fighting on board, so now is not a good time.

“I think I would just cut the wire.”

There, nice and simple. There’s no way Mr. Short Fuse can turn that into-

“Always a way out... You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

Now he’s done it. He’s honestly tempted to say ‘Or what?’. Just curiosity speaking, what would Rogers do? And, another thing, Tony has never claimed to be a hero. Sure, he’s saved a few people, and yeah, he’s trying to save the world currently, but the hero label was all but thrown at him the moment he came out to the world as Iron Man. He doesn’t want to be a hero, all he wants right now is for Rogers to get off his damn high horse.

“A hero? Like you? You're a lab rat, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Truly, he hadn’t. He’s supposed to be actively diffusing the situation. But honestly it was an achievement he’d gone that long without actually retaliating. You can only push a man so far-

“Put on the suit, let's go a few rounds.”

He’s not succeeding in his endeavor to not fight Captain America. His dad is likely screeching from his penthouse in hell.

He moves away from Rogers just in time for the locator to go off, signifying that they’ve found what they were looking for. This is followed by an argument about who is going to get it, a rather horrifying revelation that his new best friend besides Rhodey, Pepper and Happy, (Yes, he has claimed this already, he just has to convince Bruce.) has tried to kill himself, and then suddenly Captain America is trying to fight him, again.

“Put on the suit, let’s find out!”

“I’m not afraid to hit an old man.” He replies calmly, though a little heated.

It’s just oh so ironic, (This whole conversation has been filled to the brim with irony.) that as Tony says that he laments how immature they’re acting. Seriously, the guy’s in his nineties, why is he pulling Tony into this? The irony strikes him then and there, as he’s watching Rogers get all riled up. Captain America is practically a kid.

It’s kind of funny to think about. Captain America, the man out of time, he’s only in his twenties. Tony is twenty years older than him, mentally. Now it’s not about fighting his fathers old friend. It’s not even about the fact that this is Captain America, and how anti-patriotic it would be to deck him.

No, Tony wont fight a twenty-something year old. It’s not dignified. It wouldn’t even be fair. Rogers hasn’t had the time to fully develop patience like Tony has. His brain hasn’t aged just as his body hasn’t. No wonder he has such a short fuse, Tony was the same way when he was young.

Something explodes while his brain is having this revelation, and he realizes that this is an attack. Good thing they weren’t fighting each other, then.

Steve helps him up after they’re both thrown across the room from the blast.

“Put on the suit.”

Tony nods, finally agreeing with the man on something.

“Yep.”

-

Of course they would end up working together to fix the turbine. That’s the way the world works. Rogers hates Tony, and Tony won’t fight him, which seems to be making Rogers more angry. But now all of that has to be put aside for the greater good. Hopefully they’ll be able to do this before another turbine goes down and the whole boat falls from the sky.

“What’s it look like in there?”

Tony really needs this to go well. Surely Rogers can’t be too inept with technology. He’s young, young people are the future of technology! He even understood the Wizard of Oz reference earlier, so he’s sort of up to date, right?

“It seems to run on some form of electricity!”

So much for his optimism. Despite the feeling that this is going to end horribly, his mouth quirks a bit. That’s why it had taken him so long to put together how young Rogers actually is.

Still, this has to be tough for the guy, he’s clearly out of his depth here and is trying to help.

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

He teaches Rogers how to fix the relays, which takes some time given that he can’t personally guide the project. He’s a bit busy clearing the debris from the turbine and trying to keep up with the flying boat’s speed enough to stay beside it. You would think they’d stop moving so he can just hover and do repairs, but no! Although he does suppose that there is quite a bit of commotion happening inside too. Enough to warrant not slowing down, maybe.

“Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won't re-engage without a jump. I'm gonna have to get in there and push.”

“Well if that thing gets up to speed, you'll get shredded!”

Aw, he’s worried. Asshole.

Does this count as laying on the wire? Is this technically superhero-ing right now? Is this enough to prove to Rogers he has the right intentions? He hopes so.

“Then stay in the control unit and reverse polarity long enough to disengage mag-“

“Speak! English!”

Tony nearly laughs. He hadn’t realized how charming Rogers actually is, underneath all of the high and mighty hero stuff.

“Unless, Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect”.

“Well, if he could do that he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.” Bruce responds, understanding every word. Oh, Tony might just be in love.

“Finally, someone who speaks English.”

“Is that what just happened?”

It was a sly little comment, but it was there. He should have picked up on it at the time. Captain Rogers is funny.

“See that red lever? It'll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out. Stand by it, wait for my word.”

He watches the man jump over to the lever, landing a little too close to the edge for comfort. Then instead of dwelling on the fact that he was concerned for Captain America’s safety, he goes into the turbine and starts to push.

While he’s pushing, there’s some gunfire. Also some rushing coming from Director Fury in his earpiece. He wonders if anyone has come out to help Rogers, and then realizes that obviously Rogers can handle himself, so why would anyone? Eventually the turbine feels like it's moving faster than him, so it’s time to get out.

“Cap, I need the lever!”

“I need a minute here!”

Uh oh. That won’t do at all.

“Lever! Now!”

This is so not how he wanted this to go. He falls into a rotor, and slides down into the bottom part of the turbine. He is so screwed. He’s going to break his spine, or his neck. He’s going to die fixing a boat engine. Engine’s are his bitch, he can’t die fixing an engine!

Suddenly the rotors let up, and it only takes Tony a split second to fly out and assess his damage. His suit’s going to give out on him. Any second now surely. He should get out of the air-

Loki’s men are on Rogers with guns, how is that a fair fight?

At least, that’s what he thinks before he tackles one and takes them right through the side of the boat with him, finally hitting the ground and letting the suit turn off.

He can’t quite see anymore, and he can’t quite tell if it's the suit or his eyes that are damaged. He was knocked around quite a bit. Maybe it’s a concussion? He hopes it’s temporary, he can’t work if he’s blind.

Actually, scratch that. That sounds ableist. It also sounds like he’s doubting himself, which he’d never do. He very much can work if he’s blind. Plenty of people do it every day.

He feels tired, a bit hazy. He’d been knocked around maybe too much. Is Steve okay? He looks up, and the captain is jumping back into the ship. Good.

Definitely a concussion, he thinks, letting his head fall back and passing out.

-

Coulson died. Loki killed him.

Tony hasn’t been on this boat for too long now, but he’s starting to think this is a suicide mission. Agent Coulson was Pepper’s friend; how’s he going to tell her? How will the news reach the cellist he was involved with?

“There was an idea, Stark knows this, called The Avengers Initiative-”

He hasn’t been listening, and was honestly okay with the numb indifference of his thoughts. Anything not to hear Fury’s words. Lies, honestly. There’s no excuse for the arsenal that was being built, regardless of if Fury hadn’t bet on it in the first place. And now- what? He wants to use Tony and the others as the replacement arsenal? They can’t even save one agent, let alone the world.

“…to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes.”

Tony stands, unable to hear anymore of this. Tony’s no hero. If Coulson was smarter, he never would have believed in heroes in the first place.

-

“Was he married?”

He looks at Rogers, at his attempt at starting a tough conversation. He sees why everyone likes the guy, really. Even after their almost-fight he comes to attempt to comfort Tony. Tony, for his part, isn’t even sure why he’s taking Coulson’s death so hard. It’s not like they were friends.

He just- well, it feels like this death is on him.

“No. There was a uh...cellist, I think.”

There’s no one to inform about his death. No one to send condolence flowers to. Pepper might mourn, his coworkers may also. The cellist… well, she won't be able to pick up their fling again.

.

“I'm sorry. He seemed like a good man.”

Steve Rogers has a good heart. He may be quick tempered, but he has a good heart.

“He was an idiot.”

“Why? For believing?”

For believing in them. Believing in this stupid, sorry excuse for a team.

“For taking on Loki alone.”

“He was doing his job.”

Oh, yes, defend the dead guy. Make this argument harder. It was easier to hate Rogers earlier, when he was being irrational.

It circles back to there not always being a way out, and Tony thinks that’s bullshit. He doesn’t take well to being told things are impossible or unavoidable. If something isn’t going to work, he makes it work. Coulson should have thought ahead. He should have waited. He should have-

Better not go down that avenue.

He starts to walk away, and Rogers compares them to soldiers. Right, that makes sense. That’s why Rogers took the death so calmly. He was a soldier in a war. He’s used to losing people and having to move forward immediately. He probably has already figured out how not to blame himself for every death he’s ever witnessed.

“Right now we've got to put that aside and get this done. Now Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list…”

Tony briefly wonders if it's healthy to compartmentalize like that. It can’t be. But then he spots the blood on the wall and his brain moves on to another thought. Rogers is right, anyway. They need to focus.

“He made it personal.”

“That’s not the point.” Rogers replies, not catching the point just yet.

“That is the point. That's Loki's point. He hit us all right where we live. Why?” He needs to explain. The man will get it if he explains. Sometimes he forgets that not everyone’s brain does the jumps his own does.

“To tear us apart.”

“Yes! Divide and conquer is great, but he knows he has to take us

out to -

win, right? That's what he wants. He wants to beat us and he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience.”

“Right,” He’s catching on, thankfully. “I caught his act at Stuttengart.”

“Yeah. That's just previews, this is opening night. Loki's a full-tail diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built in the skies with his name plastered…” Tony stops, revelation forming. Steve looks fully interested in wherever this is going.

“Son of a bitch!”

“What?”

“Big ugly building in New York!”

Rogers’ eyes go wide, “Let's go.” He orders, Tony already moving.

-

The battle was terrifying. There were aliens, gigantic half mechanical half flesh monsters flying around, and a murderous Norse god intent on taking control of the chaos and coming out on top. Tony wonders why NASA or SHEILD has never claimed to have seen the species this army is made up of before. These guys don’t seem very low key, what with all the planetary destruction. He doesn’t believe for a second that no one knew these things were out there.

He makes a mental note to hack the department of defense after he’s eaten his shawarma.

Tony never prepared for this. The only people who were even remotely prepared tried to nuke New York. And then Tony the not-hero, thank you very much, had to fix that problem on top of the other very pressing one. The other problem being aliens. Aliens invading the earth.

Aliens, Jesus Christ.

Afterwards, Loki gets taken to Asgard with Thor via Beam Of Light™️. Fury says the Avengers are all free to go. But Tony does extend the offer for the others to stay at the tower. They can if they need to, not forever or anything. But, if they want to stick around and help clean up the mess. Someone’s gotta, you know?

Romanoff took the offer. Then Bruce because he wants access to a lab like Tony can offer and totally not because he’s excited about their new friendship. Then Clint, who would like to stay close to SHEILD; then begrudgingly, Steve Rogers, who admits that he can’t quite afford life in New York City but would like to stay here. And suddenly the Avengers are piling into Tony’s penthouse, exhausted but still helping get rid of all the broken glass.

He goes to his lab as soon as sleeping situations are settled. (Natasha takes a guest room, Bruce gets another one, Clint and Rogers take the living room.) There’s no need to stick around. The superhero’s crashing in his guest rooms and living room are cleaned and fed, New York is saved (and subsequently the world.). Besides, he needs to start working on better living arrangements if these guys are going to stay. He gets half way through Natasha’s layout for her floor, when Jarvis lowers his music.

“What gives? I was just getting into a groove here!”

“It seems you have a visitor, sir.”

His head whips around, expecting Pepper, but instead he finds Steve Rogers standing on the outside of the glass door looking like a lost puppy in designer hand-me-down sweatpants. Tony sighs, Pepper won't be in until tomorrow. He’d had to do a lot of bribing to get the New York Airport to let his jet land. They have to clear some debris from the runway, fix some of the landing gear, that stuff.

“Shall I let him in, sir?”

“What? Yeah, yeah. Yes. Let the captain in, open the door.”

The door unlocks, allowing Rogers to step into the lab. He looks around in wonder, the exhaustion from the day being covered by the inquisitive nature of humans.

“What’s up, Cap?”

Rogers startles, having gotten distracted by the tech in the room. Then hesitantly, he speaks up.

“This place is really swell, Tony.”

He sounds like he means it so genuinely that Tony doesn’t make a remark about the outdated word choice.

“Well, it’s no flying boat, but it’s home. Speaking of, you’ll love this. Dum-e! C’mere boy!”

If Rogers looked amazed before, he looks absolutely awestruck now.

“Did you make him?” He questions as he reaches out to pet the robot. Dum-E nuzzles his hand and Tony smiles a bit at the sight.

“Yeah. Made Jarvis too, right J?”

“Yes, sir.” Rogers jumps at the sound of Jarvis’ disembodied voice.

“See? They get along too well though. They’ll surpass their old man one day. Too much plotting happening while I’m gone.”

Rogers laughs, “See, now, I would have thought you'd be all for the minds of the future.” He comments sarcastically.

“And usually I’d agree, but I don’t think I’d be happy if the new robot overlord was Dum-E. And hearing you, a twenty-something year old, tell me that the flying boat engine ‘runs on some kind of electricity’, settled it for me. I have no faith in the future of technology.”

The other man snorts, “I’m not exactly a prime example of the youth, man.”

Tony puts up a finger, “Ah, see, I’d believe you if you didn’t just call me ‘man’. I’m gonna start calling you kid.”

Rogers rolls his eyes, ignoring how that prompted a mock scolding on rolling his eyes at his elders. He then sees the current work in progress on Tony’s work space.

“Is this what you’ve been doing down here?”

Tony’s eyes follow Rogers as he walks over to the plans and starts reading them over.

“This is so nice. There’s a floor for each of the Avengers in here! Even Thor and I!”

“Yes, God’s need sleep too. At least I think they do. I’ll have to ask, actually. -And, also, why wouldn’t you have one?”

Tony watches the man's eyes widen as if being caught saying something he hadn’t meant to say out loud. Although as soon as the look of panic shows it’s gone, Rogers turns to hide himself in the plans again.

“Look, I know we didn’t start off on the right foot.” He starts, quieter than before.

Is… is Rogers attempting a reconciliation right now? Tony thinks back to all the thoughts he had earlier, where Howard may have had a fit. And how fitting he thought it was that Captain America hated him, although he wasn’t entirely happy about it. But this might be worse, actually.

“I believe you were being beaten up when we met, actually. And then I swooped in and saved you.”

Rogers immediately regains his volume, “Swooped in and saved me doesn’t sound entirely right.”

“This. Coming from the guy who still calls things swell? I think I’ll keep my phrasing.”

“I had him! You can't save someone who is in control of the situation!”

“You call being beaten up being in control? Please elaborate.”

“I was not getting beat up. I was holding my own.”

“Sure, kid. Is that a bruise?”

Rogers immediately starts feeling around his face. This is hilarious for a number of reasons. One, he has super healing and any bruise would have been gone by now. Two, Captain America looks far more worried about a bruise on his perfect face than when he was saving the world.

“Where?”

“Right- yeah, right there. Where Loki absolutely had the upper hand!”

That comment startles the older/younger man into stunned laughter.

And thats all I’ve got!! Thank you if you made it this far.

[beevean]

Sonic and speed: are we misunderstanding them?

This article was originally written in Spanish by @latin-dr-robotnik​ on his blog - you can read it here!

Today on SHP, I’d like to bring attention to a topic that I keep noticing being discussed everywhere (especially now during quarantine), and that somehow worries me: are we misunderstanding Sonic and his characteristic speed?

During these last few weeks there has been a new, relatively unusual explosion of videos and comments on the Internet regarding Sonic and, relevant for today, what is the best game or the best level. The simplest reason has to be the lockdown we’re going through, and which is leaving us with more time to play or think about those games we want to play, or never will. On the other hand, the most cynical side of me believes that this boom of Sonic-related content is because Game Apologist’s video about S3&K and Sonic in general was so popular, it sparked the “interest” of other creators (the video itself is great, and I elaborated my opinions on it here). Whatever the case, there is a greater discussion about Sonic going on right now, and I feel like it’s not directed where it should be.

Before starting: there are a bunch of videos that helped me shape a good part of the opinions I’m going to explain today. You don’t need to watch all of them, and they’re not mandatory to fully understand this article, but if after reading it you’re left wanting for more, or you’d like to hear different options, I’d recommend you watch these:

1.     Sonic and Speed (Errant Signal)

2.     The First Levels of Sonic Games (Super Bunnyhop)

3.     SONIC the HEDGEHOG: How Level Design Can Break a Game (Broken Base Gaming)

4.     How Sonic Mania Makes a Level (RelaxAlax)

5.     City Escape is Peak Sonic Game Design (ZoomZike)

6.     Lost Valley Is Not Peak Sonic Game Design (ZoomZike)

What is the problem?

In a series as big and ever-changing as Sonic’s, there is a wide repertory of formulas and possible answers to the question “how to design a game?”. In some cases we’re still looking for an answer, in others we’re looking for alternatives (I talked not too long ago about the accessibility of Sonic Mania and 2D Sonic in general – Spanish only!), and most of the time, the answer has already been given in the past.

This looking for answers in the past has taken us in many directions, like constantly looking back to Sonic Adventure to solve the great enigma that is 3D Sonic; but I’d add that the recent retrospectives about Sonic and its first 2D games have raised some criticism and questions that, while valid, end up muddling a formula that has proven itself to be effective and crucial in the design of everything related to Sonic.

What really worried me is the criticism about Sonic’s speed and the levels that are considered “slow”, and we’re going to delve into this.

The basic Principles of Sonic

Speed. Platforming. Exploration. These are Sonic’s basic Principles and have always been, from its beginning until today. These three concepts are at the core of not just the level design, but the games themselves as well. The best levels in the series know how to balance these aspects, and the best games are those that can keep a balanced flow, preventing the game from going too fast, and losing its exciting component along the way, or from going too slow and becoming boring, causing the player to lose interest. Naturally, in these games there have to be all sorts  of levels: faster, more relaxed, more open and more labyrinthine, all coexisting in harmony and without going too far in one direction. Ignoring these Principles puts the quality of the levels at risk, and even our understanding of the character.

I would have put my own examples here, but just before starting to write this section I got some wonderful ones from Beevean. If you don’t remember her, she helped a lot with the article about the music of Classic Sonic, and I already warned her that if she kept posting examples this good, I would have had no choice but to feature her again. The discussion started from this post, and she says:

If you approach Sonic thinking its only characteristic is “gotta go fast”, the game you’re gonna get is Advance 2. The very flat, boring, “there’s no way to put normal obstacles in these levels so we’re gonna throw bottomless pits at the player until they get sick of them” Advance 2.

Some fast levels can be awful - Stardust Speedway is a disaster from a level design standpoint and the whole level seems to work against you. Some slow levels can be super fun - you rarely run in Lava Reef and you spend most of the time dodging obstables, but that doesn’t stop it from being one of the most beloved levels in S3&K. There’s no arbitrary reason that separates “good” levels from “bad” levels, it’s an amalgamation of many factors - plus of course your personal enjoyment.

And in her tags (because we both include more information in our tags than in our posts) she adds:

The levels that are widely considered bad usually put too much focus on one of the factors you mentioned.

Marble Zone is too slow and linear.

Luminous Forest is too fast and linear.

The Doom and Lost Impact are too labyrinthine.

And so on.

My personal example is Sonic Mania and its progression during the mid-game, from Flying Battery to Mirage Saloon:

Flying Battery is a long level, filled to the brim with speed and emotions, especially during Act 2. After beating the boss, the player is likely going to feeling exhausted after being thrown left and right, and so…

The following level is Press Garden. Act 1 is a relatively closed and relaxed level, but still moving at a reasonable pace. If the player is familiar with the level they can finish it quickly, but they still can take their time appreciating the view of the printing and the machinery of the zone. Act 2 enhances this, with an absolutely lovely view and an active but still relaxed flow…

Then there’s Stardust Speedway, which is divided into two completely opposite acts. Act 1 is a relatively fast level, but very relaxed and almost a Zen-like experience when the player lets himself be carried away by the starry night sky, and with a relative absence of lights or discomfort on the screen (enemies and obstacles aside). Act 2 is the other way around, a largely colorful, explosive, fast level (to the point that I, anything but a speedrunner, managed to finish the level in 31 seconds, 2:10 minutes if you include the fight with Metal Sonic), culminating in one of the longest, most intense bosses in the game that marks the halfway point of the adventure…

After such an exciting journey, the next level is Hydrocity, once again split in half with a calmer, more exploration-oriented Act 1, and an Act 2 that, similarly to the original level, is one of the most adrenaline-filled water levels in the series. The boss is intense as well, but verging on being tedious and not nearly as fast as the level itself…

And finally, Mirage Saloon. Every version of Act 1, regardless of the quality, are there to set up Act 2, a largely open, fast-paced level.

In short, the Mania experience is made of peaks and valleys of emotions and adrenaline, keeping the game to a reasonable pace and with a good dose of speed, exploration and platforming. The player can break the flow anytime to look for Giant Rings and other hidden goodies, and that doesn’t ruin the charm of the level. In the same way, the faster levels require the player to be familiar with them and to know how to platform to get the best results, without giving you free speed like it’s not worth it (looking at you, Advance 2).

Even the worst levels have the chance to redeem themselves, like for example Labyrinth Zone in the “Misfit Pack” Mania mod.

 Breaking the Principles.

When a level or a game breaks the balance for too long, it might become too easy (the infamous “hold right to win”), too boring (the most common argument against Sonic 1 because of levels like Marble Zone and Labyrinth Zone), or too obtuse (the criticism against Sonic CD). The key word is “for too long”, as Beevean already explained how levels that prioritize one thing over the others can still be considered good stages by the majority of the fandom (example: Lava Reef, and I’d add Spring Yard and Final Egg).

As I said before, Mania shows us how there are levels that prioritize certain aspects, but only for a few minutes at a time. Mirage Saloon Act 1 for Sonic and Tails may be a slow, boring level, but it’s only 3 minutes long in a game that lasts 2-4 hours. Same goes for Carnival Night Act 2, a long, tedious level, but that is still a 4-9 minutes long interval before getting back on track with Ice Cap and Launch Base.

3D Sonic is a much more complicated situation, as every game has its pros and cons. Adventure 1 is one of the games that experiments the most with the Principles in a 3D plane, but it breaks the flow of the stages with the plot and hubs worlds to explore (which are pretty divisive even to this day; for the record, on this blog we’re pro hubs). Adventure 2 gets rid of the time-wasting hubs but each character focuses on one Principle at the time: Sonic and Shadow focus almost exclusively on speed with some platforming, Tails and Eggman on action and platforming, and Knuckles and Rouge are all about exploration (and RNG…). Sonic Unleashed does pretty much the same, just reintroducing the hub worlds, while Sonic Generations is at its core a balanced mix of speed, platforming and exploring (plus a much smaller hub between levels), and… well, I think I made myself clear. 3D Sonic is a mess of ideas that orbit around the fundamental Principles, but that for some reason are never kept consistent between games.

Going back to utterly breaking the Principles, there’s one level above all that destroys every one of those extremes, never taking the middle road and without worrying at all about what players might think of it. This level is…

Eggmanland

If Sonic Mania is a clear example of a relatively balanced flow, in its mid-game at least, Eggmanland may be the biggest example of what happens when each and every one of the Principles is taken to its extremes. Let me explain:

Speed: Eggmanland can be both too fast for the player to react, between QTE and super quick jumps that may lead to your death if you’re not fast enough (and you rarely will), or too slow of a slog to navigate (the long Werehog sections).

Platforming: Eggmanland can have too much tricky precision platforming, made even harder due to a lack of a drop shade (the second Werehog section is infamous for this), or it can throw stretches where you do almost nothing but hold X and maybe go through a QTE, which if failed lead to your death once again; at worst you have to wait, which sends us back to our previous point.

Exploration: Eggmanland can be a giant, confusing labyrinth (there is no shortage of stories of player getting lost in this behemoth of a level), and at the same time it can have some long linear room to room progression, separated by doors about as fast as Big the Cat.

I should say that, despite all of this, I love Eggmanland a lot, and same goes for Beevean; but this is something that has to do with what we mentioned before, personal preference. From a technical standpoint, and according to many players, Eggmanland is an absolute nightmare.

Are we misunderstanding Sonic?

Going back to the central topic of this article, I believe that I put enough emphasis on the importance of balance in Sonic, so let’s go back to the previous question: what is the problem?

In short, I disagree with the voices that call for redirecting Sonic towards “fast”, adrenaline-filled stages. These people, with their own retrospective, are doing some sort of revisionism with Sonic levels, automatically branding levels that aren’t as fast as others as “bad”. We’re ignoring the true value of platforming and exploring the levels, and the perception of the character is at risk.

Like Beevean said, looking at Sonic just as “gotta go fast” is, plain and simple, absurd. Sonic is much more than this restless teenager that, just like that movie with the bus, if he doesn’t run at speeds higher than 90 mph his heart will stop. Yes, going fast is a big part of his initial appealing and his way of life (“My stories only end when I stop running”); but when Sonic’s speed is brought up in these discussions, the rest of what makes the character is left outside: how much he admires nature and how much he likes to take a rest every now and then before the next adventure. Sonic OVA, Sonic Adventure, Sonic X and even Sonic Lost World’s ending show that Sonic is not just speed, but also rest, curiosity, exploration. There are even cases where the journey and the friends and memories made along the way are much more important than the destiny itself (Sonic Heroes, Sonic Unleashed), and on several occasions it’s been shown as an actual weakness of the character the fact that he would act recklessly and under the influence of the fateful “gotta go fast”. This aspect of Sonic’s attitude might probably be product of the aggressive marketing campaigns this character endured (ever since the Genesis “Blast Processing”), but it doesn’t tell the whole story, and it’s unacceptable to enforce this line of thought over everything we know about the character.

And to end this long section where I was hinting at one of the most important points of one of the most thoughtful games of the series, let’s not forget that Sonic is pretty aware that everything has a beginning and an end, because that’s the Nature’s way of things and we have to live life at its fullest, for it is finite. Running at top speed is just one of many ways Sonic lives his life, and his eyes will forever be filled, not so much with speed, but with curiosity.

Conclusions

To recap this long article, let’s remember that

Speed, Platforming and Exploration are the three basic Sonic Principles. The momentum in the games comes from the interaction between these elements.

Speed is not something that’s delivered for the sake of being delivered: it usually is a reward or an incentive to keep the player interested, engaged and excited for what’s to come.

Breaking the Principles impacts the experience of the game in many aspects… unless you’re Eggmanland and you’re breaking every single Principle in one level anyway.

To narrow Sonic down to just “speed” is to ignore everything else that this character represents. “Gotta go fast” is a facet of his design and personality, but not the only one.

Starting from this, we can sit down and discuss about “good” and “bad” levels in the series all day long, but I don’t think it’s necessary. Now that we’re about to discover what’s next for the series, I believe it’s important to clarify what Sonic represents in every stage, so that with some luck we can see better consistency and quality in his future adventures.

Speaking of this last point, I just remembered The Geek Critique’s series of Sonic retrospectives, another series of videos that inspired me and I found enlightening. Do you guys remember the videos I linked to at the beginning? Well, it’s time for you to watch them :P (if you want to, of course)

(I’d like to thank Beevean again for suggesting the best examples I could have needed. Seriously, she helped much more than it looks)

What do you guys think? What is the ideal Sonic level, and why? Do you agree that Sonic is much more than a speedy blue hedgehog? In the meantime, we’re hopefully going to see each other very soon. See you next time!

I feel this theme is strangely fitting to conclude this article, lol

~

After the Spanish article was posted, I reblogged with this:

To add something more, I was chatting with a friend of mine who pointed out that, for all the talk in the fandom that we want to see less linear levels, most of the fan favorites are pretty linear - Ice Cap, Speed Highway, City Escape, Rooftop Run… I told him that yeah, linearity isn’t a synonym of bad level design because linear levels can still be enjoyable: with these particular cases, what makes them different from a random Lost Valley is that they have other elements that make them stand out (snowboarding, running down a skyscraper, skateboarding through San Francisco, climbing the Big Ben…). Plus they have something to compensate for the linearity, like fluid platforming.

In the case of Ice Cap and Speed Highway, there’s also a contrast between their halves: IC Act 1 is cramped and heavy on platforming, while Act 2 is much faster and without many obstacles, almost as a reward; Speed Highway starts out as fast and exhiliarating, with little platforming getting in the way of running, but the At Dawn section is a short open space, to let the player catch their breath, to the point that even the music and the aesthetic are much more relaxed. So, as you said, the balance is kept, and when you add a memorable setting and music, you have a great level in your hands.

Thank you @latin-dr-robotnik​ for giving me the permission to post this! I just had to translate this fascinating article to share it with everyone :>

[seokjxnnie]

Stitches | Yoongi

genre: angst, smut, badboy!au warnings: oral sex, light teasing words: 4k summary: She knows what he does. She doesn’t like it, but she knows she will still pour him a shot and get the first aid kit when he comes home after a bad fight, no questions asked. But, everybody’s got their breaking point.

Her tired eyes shifted to the pivoting door knob at the sound of keys clattering on the other side. A delicate noise, yet it rung loudly against the backdrop of a vacant silence. Her gaze redirected to the clock on the wall whose hands read just past 3AM, eliciting a hefty sigh from her. She jadedly returned to the face appearing behind the door that quietly creaked open.

“Oh, you’re still awake,” a muttered comment fell from bruised lips, a discoloured patch on the cheek to pair.

She grudgingly eyed the ribbons of dried blood on his collar. Peeking from his jacket that he seemed to have indifferently draped on was a bare shoulder underneath a frayed cuff where his sleeve used to be, contrasting his other fully clothed shoulder.

“How can I sleep?” Aggravated murmurs rustled past gritted teeth. She rose from her slump on the couch.

Yoongi grimaced at the bitter atmosphere. Nonetheless, going through the muscle memory motions of a familiar routine, he took a seat on the chair she pulled out for him without another word.

The girl returned to his side, setting a shot glass down on the table next to him and tipping the bottle of whiskey in her hands until it was filled to the brim. Its sharp smell, although well acquainted, unsettled her just as much as the last time, and the time before that. She remembered a time when purchasing a bottle of whiskey was intended for her satisfaction too. Now, associated with an unpleasant situation, it was no longer a drink she could enjoy. She rested the cap back on the tip of the bottle’s neck, not quite spinning it closed knowing that a refill will shortly follow.

Retrieving the alcohol meant retrieving the first aid kit as well, as they were stored adjacent to one another on the same shelf. Nights like these has made the two a complementary duo. And so, reflexive hands unzipped the package and laid out its contents in a preferred order.

He only gained her low stare when he produced a hiss of pain to accompany the discomfort that twisted his face upon rigidly peeling off his jacket. Forced to slow the sharp hitch of a breath that dried in the back of her throat so that her dismay wasn’t as audibly brash, her eyes traced the band of crimson that trailed under his torn-off sleeve. The gash had stopped bleeding now, meaning that in a dark alleyway somewhere must’ve laid the now abandoned, red-stained fabric. She swallowed and bit her tongue to maintain her withholding speech.

By the time Yoongi had thrown back another shot, she had left and come back with a few ice cubes swaddled in a damp towel. She hovered the makeshift ice pack over the bruise on his face. “Hold it.”

A look of nonchalance played on in his expressions while he took the cold bundle, only to place it down on the table. “It’s fine, I don’t need it.”

He hadn’t a second to register the unforgiving click of her tongue before flinching when the icy sensation crushed against his purpled cheek without warning. “Hold it,” she repeated, introducing venom in her emphasis this time.

He sighed, replacing her hand with his over his cheek with a glower. A quiet huff later, she heaved down onto the corner of the chair pulled out next to him.

The accustomed routine that she was forced to call second nature manufactured itself as a new skill to her. She had gotten good at this. Hence, taking one begrudging look at the slash on his arm, the girl concluded that it required a stitched closure. She wouldn’t have had any notion that she would come to know her way around a suture kit quite well if it weren’t for him. Yet, she was far from grateful.

After briskly cleaning the minor scrape on the corner of his lip with a dampened Q-tip, she held a towel under the laceration on his bicep, her other hand drowning it in water from a squeeze bottle. She remained uninterrupted and unwavering when he flinched in response to the jolt of stings that followed. The knitted brows and clenched jaw were dismissed, and it was a fluid transition to the needle and thread for her.

Yoongi took another swig straight from the bottle to stifle the hiss that threatened to surface on his tongue as the needle pricked and weaved. She worked proficiently, quietly – too quietly. The silence was so dense and engulfing that it forced him to confront the palpable antagonism she was mutely emanating. He could’ve sworn her hands were working a little more crudely, that every harsher jab might have been intentional. Even if she refused to meet his eyes, he recognized that all light in her irises were extinguished by criticism. And despite her unmoving lips, it was as if she spelled out her resentment with every breath she took.

The exhaustion, the tattering ache that burdened every one of his limbs might’ve impaired the filter that meant to stop his irritation before it left his throat. “What?” he snarled, “What is it? Just come out with it.”

Her digits paused and shrill, strict eyes flickered up to him. Her mouth remained taut.

He scoffed, “Don’t look at me like that. I already know you’re mad. For what? None of this is new. We’ve been over this again and again and again. You already know what I do. You already know this is me.”

Yoongi always had a talent in delivering words severe with callousness without needing to raise his voice.

She straightened, her eyes narrowing with vexation. “I know, how do you think I got so good at this?”

The ice pack in his hand unsympathetically tossed onto the table. “Then what’s wrong?” he spat, and although low, he supplied the same mercy as a slap across the face.

Mirroring her escalating fury was her throbbing temples within a heated head. “Well fuck me, sorry I worry over someone I care about,” her words clawed out from behind gritted teeth. “Does it ever occur to you that you’re hurting me too?”

Taking a sharp inhale, he looked the other way before he could see the expression that must’ve accompanied those pained words. “Don’t lose sleep over me. I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”

His eyes fell shut in regret as soon as the words left his lips. He had meant that he didn’t want her staying up to see him like this either, but his undisciplined frustration twisted his words out to be more wounding than intended before they were prevented.

Her jaw went slack in bleak disbelief. A hefty huff of exasperation heaved from her now wrenching chest. Welling, stinging dews were inspired by the recollections of all the late nights she spent worrying and hurting, only for her to push it aside so she could tend to him. And then, the cycle would repeat without or a shred of penance, hesitation, just like it is now. So, it wasn’t worth anymore of her words, anymore of her time in this moment, because the same scenario will unfold again maybe even just weeks from now.

Swallowing down the discord of angry obscenities and spiteful disputes, she refused to spend anymore of her energy and yanked away from the last tied stitch on his arm. She threw down her tools and shot up from her seat, only allowing the stream of tears to fall once she stormed off the other way for the isolation of the bedroom.

“Shit,” Yoongi cursed under his breath, “wait.” Jolting up from his seat, he rushed to swing for the capture of her hand, but she departed too quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!”

With an ungraceful hurry, he jerked his shoulder towards his mouth to clasp the stem of the remaining thread that had the needle holder still entwined at its end, dangling and swinging from his sutures. Cleaving it off with his teeth and lobbing it aside, he stumbled after her.

Her strides gained in haste and length as she was resolute in denying him the opportunity to talk his way out of it, like he’s always had before. It wasn’t enough, however, as he caught up to her just before their bedroom door and claimed a firm grip on her arm, not quite reeling her in yet certainly not letting her go.

“Let me explain,” he sighed with his tone softening to a pleading quality when registering the sight of her stained cheeks under shattered irises.

“No need, I heard you loud and clear. I’m not needed here.” She bit her tongue, hearing the vulnerable breakage in her voice that meant to deliver an unwavering antagonism.

He heard her tremors too, and a smothering weight collected in his chest. “I meant I hate you seeing me like this too.”

Her head spun away from him to keep him from watching the rest of her guard evaporate. “Then let me go. I’m going to bed.”

Yoongi’s clutch slackened only to immediately glide down to her fingers, securely tangling with them instead. “I don’t want us to go to bed mad at each other like this,” he persisted.

“Funny you’d think I’d even let you come to bed with me,” the girl scoffed belligerently before her wrists snapped in an attempt to loosen from his hold.

She gasped, plunged into disorientation when he lurched her towards him before she could escape. Other hand clasping onto her shoulder, he pushed and pinned her up against the wall behind her.

“I’m trying, can’t you see that? Is that not enough for you?” he contended, inches from her face and swathing her in his desperate, frustrated insistence. “Fuck, of course I know you hate what I do, all of this. But I do what I do so I can keep you as far away from it as possible. I would never let anything happen to you.”

His unfiltered, vehement expressions painted an image in her mind of all the knives he took to the hand, all the fists he took to the jaw, and how he’d do it over and over again if it meant she was never on its receiving end.

The consequent anxiety and grief collapsed in on her, and bringing her cupped hands to her mouth, she wept into them. “It’s not me that I’m worried about, you fucking idiot!” The surplus of erratic emotions translated into an unhindered tongue, and she winced at how foreign and bitter it tasted to demean him. She tremulously heaved in a breath to order her heated series of thoughts. “I know you’d do absolutely anything to keep me safe, but it’s you I’m scared for. You don’t call, you don’t text, nothing. You’re gone for hours on end into the night and I have no idea what kind of trouble you’re in this time. I can’t gauge at what point I can be sure that you have things under control, and at what point I should call the cops. And then from there, it’s a constant battle between the fear that I get you arrested and the even bigger fear that I’m too late and you’re already dead in a ditch.” Her eyes flowed even more irrepressibly to imitate the swelling passion in her tone. “Every time you’re gone without a warning, I have to sit alone and fight off the terrifying thought that tomorrow just might be the day your name and face is plastered all over the news. But they don’t paint you as the good person that I know and love; they’ll reduce you to a deviant, a criminal, who deserved everything that came for him. And I just can’t swallow that thought.”

The heavy sobbing left her breathless. Taking a pause to slow her respirations and gain some remnant of steadiness, her fingers glided up her face to wipe the torrent of tears. The outpour of hurt and anguish battered at him and withered the restraint he had on her shoulders. His palm planted above her on the wall now, and his head wilted low.

“I don’t know if I can take it anymore. How much longer can I handle this loneliness?” her voice had diminished to frail, wispy whimpers. “I’m so lonely, Yoongi.”

He swallowed, and down with it her projected distress and fright. An agonizing remorse colonized his extremities as he found himself in a setting of desolate isolation that her pained words illustrated. Being so determined in protecting her from getting hurt, he was sightless as to how he’s been hurting her. Just the thought of her blemished by gashes and bruises threatened to tear his chest open, how could he have not empathized with how she’s been feeling all this time. Over and over again did she have to stomach his endangerments and woundings, while biting her tongue as it continued to happen again and again. Without knowing, he’s been gradually eating at her strength. And now, all he wanted to do was embrace her tight and apologize to her endlessly.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi pleaded. His head lifted trying to find her gaze, only for it to be clouded with a sorrowful and angry mist while directed the other way. His index and thumb travelled to caress her jaw and petition for her to look at him as he repeated, “I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Her face jerked away. “Don’t touch me,” she weakly muttered in between choked sniffles.

He implored once more, softly calling her name, fingers cradling the side of her face now. One word, but she felt the compelling sincerity and desperation for forgiveness that his tone packed. Tears welling once more, she shook her head in refusal, yet acknowledging that her defences were already dwindling. She didn’t push him away.

“Baby, look at me.”

“Yoongi, don’t—”

Digits nuzzling until they reached the nape of her neck, his other hand planted on the small of her back and drew her in until his nose grazed hers. “Look at me.” He guided her sight to lock with his. “I’ll be better,” his whispers were hardly audible, but the assurance and commitment echoed vibrantly in her ear. “I won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

Frustrations dissipating, she couldn’t find the strength to pull away from his gentle breaths that fondly tickled her skin. His touches were so soft yet enthrallingly warm, and anxious for the intimacy she’s been deprived of, she found herself leaning into his hold. She shuddered, tantalized, when his lips scarcely swept against hers. “I don’t ever want to lose you,” the girl feebly mewled.

He fully encaptured her in a kiss this time. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Consumed by his longing to convey his infatuation for her, he was eager to remind himself of her intoxicating feeling and taste.

His husky voice was engulfing, and swimming in a heightened desire, her fingers zealously hugged his jaw to deepen the kiss. She sighed with bliss against his tongue when he murmured expressions of passion and infatuation.

“Ah,” Yoongi hissed in pain and pulled back, the pads of his digits gingerly dabbing the bruise on the corner of his mouth. She gasped an apology, to which he lightly chuckled in response, shaking his head in reassurance and quick to close their distance again.

“Mm, wait, Yoongi,” she tried to break away from his lips, only for him to press right back in. Between his caresses, she sighed, “It’s late and you’re hurt. You should get some rest.”

“Come here.” A keen growl and impatient hands had her thrusted back against the wall again. Lifting her leg, he guided her thigh in a hook around his hips to further dismiss their distance. A sharp breath carrying his name hitched in the back of her throat as he laid kisses and nips down the outline of her neck. “I want you so bad,” his low-ringing demand inspired quivers coursing throughout her entirety. “I want you so fucking bad. Right now.”

With his lips and teeth handling her roughly, the girl knew to desert any mode of resistance – Yoongi always worked tirelessly to get what he wanted. Consequently, when he avidly hiked up her nightshirt, she obliged by elevating her arms for a smooth glide off her figure and onto the floor.

Both hands grappling her thighs, he lifted her and set her weight on his waist as he carried her over to the couch. He threw her down, and before her vision could settle from the abrupt movements, he was already tearing her panties down her legs. Tugging his shirt over his head and abandoning it aside, he then immediately dipped down to clasp his mouth around her pebbling nipples. Gaze flicking up towards her, he dragged his proud smirk across her mounds at the way they fitfully fluttered up and down in rhythm with the trembling billows of air that filtered past her clamped down teeth.

His teeth continued raking down her abdomen. Gaining sight of her sex painted with trickling desire, he clicked his tongue with a sweltering eagerness. He latched onto the underside of her thighs and shoved her knees towards her chest, his rough clutches keeping them there. Wasting no time, his face closed in on her warmth, his mouth enveloping her slick lower lips and tongue snapping against her clit.

Quickly, he found himself inebriated, lapping at her taste with the knowledge that he made her as sopping as she was. The blended mewls of his name and moans of pleasure stringing from her throat heightened his hunger. “Fuck, kitten, you taste so good,” his husky growl shuddered off his lips and vibrated against her skin. He smugly chuckled at the twitching hips he earned in response. It didn’t inhibit him from continuing to abuse her slit with riveting strokes and her throbbing bud with relentless flickers. Fingers burrowed into the suppleness of her legs to hold them down as they thrashed, the consequent dragging fashioned red bands across her skin.

An escalating pressure pooled in her core. Her digits got lost in the locks of his hair, anxious for register. “No, wait, I’m close,” she whined, hardly coherent and more so relying instead on tugging his hair to stop him.

Despite grasping exactly what she wanted, to be filled by him, Yoongi teased, “Tell me what you want, baby.” Straightening up, he hovered over her yet continued baiting her with his two digits that he inserted and curled.

The girl whimpered in protest, thoughts in an exhilarated haze that she could only assemble a muttered “together”.

“Use your words. Beg,” he demanded, now pumping at an intensity that threatened to push her to climax.

She frantically squealed, “No, please. I want you to fuck me.” Desperately reaching up to claw at his collarbones in a plead, she gasped her words, “I want to come on your cock. I want you to fuck me so I can come on your cock, please.”

Yoongi hissed with a searing impatience, hand pulling away from between her thighs and grabbing at her hips to harshly lift and position her. A yelp fell from her lips in surprise as he threw her down once more and she found herself kneeled on the couch with her face flat on its back ledge. The clanging of his belt unbuckling and the rustling of his pants behind her as he hastily peeled them off made her swallow with an overwhelming yearning. Before she could raise her head to look back at him, his palm held her face down as he lined up the head of his shaft to her entrance. Easing in, a gratified groan threw his head back in elation to finally feel her wrapped around his pulsing member. There wasn’t much of a buffer before the consuming thirst had him hammering into her. She screamed with bliss into the cushions.

The warmth and slickness of her walls made for an easy pounding. Jaw slackened with heavy pants pushing in and out, his tongue swiped across his bottom lip as he was hypnotized by the sight of her in front of him. Her ass slapped with every one of his thrusts, her hips stuttered in trying to keep pace with him, her limbs quaked and jolted as they dug into the cushions. He basked in the resulting whines of his name, punctuated with curses and begs that warned of her oncoming climax. The clenching of her pulsating core made him fuck her harder, keen to see her completely unravel under him.

He claimed a fistful of hair at the back of her head and pulled her up as he continued to lunge into her, deep and quick, so he could hear her shriek as he grazed the bundle of nerves that sent waves of euphoria crashing through her.

Yoongi leaned down to cradle the shell of her ear with kisses and praises of how pretty she is when she comes. He pumped a few more times to let her ride our her high before he felt the onset of his own.

“Come in my mouth,” she entreated between choked breaths, “please.”

He smirked at the thought her drinking his cum. “On your knees, kitten,” he commanded, pulling out.

Obediently and quickly, she moved, descending to her knees in front of him as he sat on the couch. Stroking her hair and collecting it behind her head, he hummed with enjoyment as she took the crown of his dick onto her lips, tongue drawing generous spirals. Palming the base, her mouth moved down its length, tongue flattening on its underside now. She moaned softly enough to drape his shaft in invigorating vibrations as she sucked, splaying his taste across her cavity. The pleased hisses and hip jerks she was rewarded with stretched a smile on her lips as she continued bobbing up and down. His hand fisting her hair guided her to an amplified speed. Relishing in his furrowed brows, his parted lips that called her a good girl, and his thrusts off the couch to reach an unventured depth, her clasping fingers followed along the intensifying maneuvers of her mouth.

Pleasure engulfing his entirety and igniting his nerves, he chased his high. Muscles tensing and twitching, his rhythm staggered. A euphoric concoction of sounds wrenched his jaw open and she found it absolutely entrancing. One last powerful lunge sent ribbons of his cum across her tongue and dribbled down her face when she drew back to catch her breath. She giggled quietly, elated at the mess he made on her chin and her instilled lust that glazed over his irises.

Yoongi grinned amidst hefty pants at sight of her face being marked as his as he combed back the strands of hair matted to her forehead. He stretched to the side of the couch where a coffee table stood and drew a tissue from the box sitting on its surface. He dabbed the mess off her face before drawing her up to straddle him on the couch.

Wordlessly, he conveyed his praise and affection with the palm that cradled the side of her face and guided her closer until she was inches away. His thumb traced shapes against her jaw. He gazed at her in silence, as if to drink in the lingering bliss that she exuded, and to soak in the electrifying sensation of their bare, damp skin against each other. His gestures alone demonstrated of the gratitude he was immersed in to have her in front of him like this. He reaffirmed so as he spread delicate, tender pecks across her lips, making sure to nuzzle his nose against hers more frequently as they kissed.

“I’m not going to worry you anymore,” he whispered to confirm what his eyes already spoke of. “I’m not going to hurt you anymore.”

[burning-up-ao3]

20 Penguins Thoughts: Improvement involves more than a potential trade  January 29, 2019 8:00 AMBy Jason Mackey / Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

Look at what Jim Rutherford did on Monday, trading Jamie Oleksiak back to Dallas for a 2019 fourth-round draft pick, and it’s fairly easy to conclude that the Penguins general manager has his sights set on doing something.

Fine. Trade away, Jim. Shoot your shot.

But is a swap for a third-line center, or even an impact winger, going to fix this? Highly doubtful.

Not that the Penguins are a dysfunctional group, either. They aren’t. They’re still a very good team. But no matter what move Rutherford makes, if the Penguins play like they did Monday, they’re simply not a trade away from another Stanley Cup run.

“If we’re going to be successful,” Matt Cullen was saying after the Penguins’ 6-3 loss to the New Jersey Devils at PPG Paints Arena on Monday night, “we’re going to have to be a lot harder to play against.”

The 42-year-old has never been more right.

Kevin Hayes, Radek Faksa, Charlie Coyle, Micheal Ferland — all dream acquisitions by Penguins fans, for perfectly understandable reasons — aren’t going to solve the problem by themselves. Neither is shipping out Jack Johnson or calling up Teddy Blueger or whatever other Band-Aid has been applied.

Heck, the Penguins got creamed by the Devils, and Derick Brassard was actually half-decent. What the Penguins will need to fix this — and snap out of a stretch that has included five losses in eight games — is much larger than one or two players.

So, what realistically must happen?

2. Work ethic, urgency and competitive spirit were the terms being thrown around the Penguins dressing room late Monday, and it’s hard to argue with any of them.

The power play also has to be better; those five players need to be a factor, and they can’t keep allowing short-handed goals at this rate. They need to get Evgeni Malkin right, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Penguins coach Mike Sullivan’s move is to pull him off the top unit, as crazy as that might sound. No more bad turnovers. Let him focus on other areas.

The Penguins also must defend better than they did against New Jersey, and there’s simply a lack of urgency that shouldn’t exist at this point in the season, especially not for a team that fancies itself as a Stanley Cup contender.

I do have five questions for the home stretch, but I’ll get to those shortly. First, a couple loose ends.

3. I thought Sidney Crosby had some really strong stuff to say after Monday’s loss. He’s usually fairly positive, never too down, but the captain seemed fairly mad after this one.

What lacked against the Devils: “Everything. Execution. Urgency. Those are probably the biggest two. Pretty important ones.”

The NHL-worst 11 short-handed goals the Penguins have allowed: “I mean, it’s 11. I think it could probably be a couple different things depending on the play. It’s not a stat we’re proud of, that’s for sure.”

On needing to correct things with Tampa coming in: “We can say everything we want to say. We can say all the right things. We have to go out there and do it.”

Good for him. No one has a stronger voice than Crosby. And every word is he said is true.

4. Here’s why I think Rutherford could do something, and soon: Why else let Jamie Oleksiak go for a fourth-round pick?

Perhaps because Rutherford knows he’s going to need the space soon, and this was what he figured was his best available opinion.

That’s what I think, anyway.

“It just puts us in a position when something comes along — which, it will — over the next few weeks here,” Rutherford said when I asked what this means moving forward in our phone conversation early Monday evening. “It’ll put us in a position for other options because of the cap space.”

Which it will. Rutherford knows his phone will be ringing, and you know he’ll answer.

Yes, it was about having too many defensemen and Justin Schultz coming back soon, but that’s not a reason to make the trade now, for that return.

Doing it now, and not when Schultz returns in early February — remember, he has yet to skate with the team — sends a signal that Rutherford is open for business and able to potentially absorb some salary.

5. Switching gears a little bit … why hasn’t Teddy Blueger been gotten a shot? You guys/girls ask this a lot.

With 21 goals and 39 points in 45 games with Wilkes-Barre/Scranton of the AHL, it’s a totally reasonable question, especially considering Blueger plays in all situations and isn’t defensively deficient.

When I talked to Rutherford before Monday’s game, I asked him exactly that: Why hasn’t Blueger been given a chance?

“It’s a positional thing,” Rutherford said. “He’s played well enough to be here. When it’s been time to recall a player, the players that we’ve recalled can play the wing.

“We haven’t been in a position where we’ve had to call up a center. Teddy doesn’t play the wing. He only plays center. It’s a more-than-fair question. He has done what he’s needed to do to put himself in position to play at this level.”

6. I see Rutherford’s point. Blueger isn’t a wing, and the Penguins would theoretically be doing a disservice to him by playing him out of position, even if I know many of you are going to say, “Well, just shift someone else there.”

I don’t think the Penguins would want a fourth line with two guys playing out of position — probably Riley Sheahan and Matt Cullen — to accommodate a rookie playing his first NHL game.

7. Which led to this follow-up question that I posed to Rutherford: Is there a scenario you see unfolding where Blueger could get a chance this season.

His answer: “I don’t see it with the guys that we have here now.”

I found that answer interesting: “With the guys that we have here now.”

On one hand, that means no; Blueger’s staying in the minors. On the other, I suppose that could change if Rutherford trades Brassard or even Riley Sheahan, although I don’t think using Blueger as a regular is something the Penguins want to force.

8-12. To me, there’s five key questions for the Penguins coming out of the All-Star break. Addressing those will occupy this and the following four spots.

The first involves Malkin. Can he rediscover the form he found during the second half of last season, when he led the NHL in points (62) from Jan. 1 through the end of the regular season?

Taking him off the top power play might be one option. Maybe trying some other people on his left wing. Shoot, maybe even sit Malkin down for a game, just to change something up, although I admittedly don’t love that option.

But I think Malkin is pressing and his confidence is lacking, which is a bad combination.

“Obviously we’d like him to have more of a positive impact on the game,” Sullivan said after Monday’s game. “He’s such a talented player. He’s such an accomplished player. I know how much he cares about this team, this organization and trying to help us win. Part of my responsibility as his coach and our staff is we’re trying to help Geno through this process and try and help him capture his very best game. We’ll continue to work with him.”

9. What happens when Schultz returns?

You know he’s going to slot into the top-four. But more than that, with whom does Schultz play? Olli Maatta? Is he effective? Does he get top power-play reps? The latter part is interesting given that unit’s current situation.

I also look at Schultz like a trade-deadline acquisition. His presence alone could give this group a nice little jolt of life.

10. Where’s Matt Murray at?

It’s hard to criticize Murray after Monday’s game. No, he wasn’t great, but neither was the team in front of him. And this is a guy who was 10-1 since returning from a lower-body injury, with a 1.81 goals-against average and .944 save percentage before the Devils game.

Expecting those numbers might be a bit much, but the Penguins will want and need something close here to make a push over the final 40 percent of the season.

11. What’s the final verdict on Brassard?

Brassard was actually decent Monday, although hardly enough to quash any of the ongoing trade talk.

Given acquisition cost, don’t rule out the Penguins sticking with Brassard, although I would imagine that, if they do, Rutherford would probably like to add another piece to get more from that line.

12. How does this Metro mess sort itself out?

The Metropolitan Division is an interesting place right now.

The Islanders are in first place, have allowed a league-low 118 goals, and Barry Trotz is looking like the Jack Adams Award winner. The Capitals, meanwhile, have lost seven in a row and look lost.

The Blue Jackets are hanging around, and the Penguins are in fourth place, with the Hurricanes just four points behind.

That’s a long-winded way of saying that plenty can still happen, and the margin for error is rather small.

13. Moving on … I loved what Kendall Coyne Schofield, Brianna Decker and others did at the NHL All-Star Game, but I still wish it would have been executed differently.

For one, they should have been paid, especially Decker after winning the premier passer event.

You can treat this like a statement-making sort of event all you want, which I think the NHL did. But when you pay the event winners, pay the winning team of the All-Star Game $1 million and award a car to the MVP … and you don’t see a need to earmark anything for these women — who make nothing close to NHL players — until there’s negative reaction over it, I question how much of a statement you were really trying to make.

14. Also, why not show all of them demonstrating the drills? And why not talk, while Coyne Schofield was flying, about her own career, Northeastern, Team USA women’s hockey, whatever. Anything aside from her husband who plays for the Chargers.

Or, here’s a final thought: Why not promote the upcoming series between Team USA and Hockey Canada in Detroit and London, Ontario?

If you have a platform, use it.

15. One more about Coyne Schofield and Decker …

Being in the building, the buzz created was amazing. It also made me think about something that I’d love to see: a National Women’s Hockey League (NWHL) team in Pittsburgh.

I think it would work, too. There are so many fervent and intelligent female hockey fans here, plus there’s great infrastructure in place for it with UPMC Lemieux Sports Complex and how naturally intertwined it would be with the Penguins.

Have no clue on logistics or anything like that, or whether it’s even remotely possible, but if the team won, I think it could do really well.

16. I find NHL commissioner Gary Bettman’s stance on current labor negotiations … interesting.

He keeps repeating the phrase, “We’re not looking for a fight.”

Great, but your fans don’t care. They just want the product.

And it positions the players, if they ask for anything that’s even remotely reasonable, as the bad guys.

17. Media day must be handled better next year.

You’ll notice that neither Crosby nor Kris Letang was there. They were among the seven of 44 players who did not make it. That’s too many.

But I don’t blame Crosby or Letang. Why should they give up a day of their bye week when the All-Stars who are on theirs from Jan. 27-31 will get five full days?

It’s also not fair to the fans who bought tickets to the event — held inside San Jose’s City National Civic theater — expecting to hear those two or others. I also understand why those who played Wednesday night weren’t there.

My solution: Put a dark day in the schedule, to ensure 100 percent participation. There’s no sense wasting fans’ or media members’ money and ticking off your players … for what?

18. While we’re at it, I also think the Skills Competition needs tweaked.

I think the fastest skater, hardest shot and accuracy shooting events are fine the way they are. Leave those alone. Let’s concentrate on the other ones.

The puck control event was OK, but I don’t see how casual fans might keep the event on their TVs to watch a dude stickhandle around cones. Too boring. Need to spice it up a little.

Secondly, the whole event slowed to a crawl during the save streak-intermission-premier passer part of the evening. Has to be tighter to keep viewers’ attention.

Have goalies stop as many breakaways as they can until they’re done. If it’s two, so be it. They’re done.

Then simplify the passing thing. I don’t need to see poor Mikko Rantanen suffering through 2:17.379, then having to watch seven more heats.

The Skills Competition has some interesting elements. I think it can be watchable, as opposed to the game itself, which is a little too gimmicky for my taste.

But it needs to be tighter, falling somewhere in the 90-minute range start to finish.

19. I was not at all surprised to hear deputy NHL commissioner Bill Daly’s answer when I asked whether the Penguins are being considered for international events.

“Yes,” was what Daly said, with a wide smile.

As they should be.

How does one of the NHL’s marquee U.S. teams, with the league’s most recognizable player and some seriously high-end talent, not get included in this stuff?

The Penguins haven’t played internationally since going to Stockholm, Sweden in 2008. Whether it’s China, Germany, Sweden, Switzerland or the Czech Republic — all destinations on the horizon — the Penguins should get asked to go.

And soon, if you ask me.

20. I liked seeing Toronto’s Auston Matthews rip off his own Maple Leafs sweater to show support for teammate Patrick Marleau, who’s nothing short of a legend out here.

I think it’s part of what should be a push by players, especially the younger ones, to showcase more personality whenever possible.

I know the NHL is a different animal, and it’s never going to rival the NBA or NFL in terms of pure entertainment for casual fans.

But if the league can do something, anything, to become even a little less bland — including players speaking their minds instead of offering milquetoast quotes they fear might upset someone — I think it would be a good thing.

Jason Mackey: jmackey@post-gazette.com and Twitter @JMackeyPG.

[peacockrevera]

It's difficult to feel like your storage room is great. Between not having your fantasy wardrobe nor the storeroom space to try and think about it, storage rooms frequently cause significantly more tension than we'd want to concede. Nonetheless, there are simple approaches to make your storage room work for you, paying little mind to its size or what's in it. As the temperatures change with the appearance of a season, so do the designs that accompany it. Another season is an extraordinary chance to evaluate your storeroom to not just discover what occasional outfits should be brought to the bleeding edge yet, in addition, to discover what should be given (or even thrown!). Here is a portion of our preferred storage room association tips with Wardrobe accessories india online that will help maintain the thing in control just as augment your space to make your storeroom nervousness free. 

Organize by what you go after the most. 

Your storage room ought to be composed in a manner where the things you will get the most are the simplest to get to. Consider it: when you need to burrow to both find and set things aside, that is the point at which your wardrobe creatures resemble a debacle scene. Each storeroom has its own Rolodex of staples, the majority of which are all year. Regardless of whether it's the dress shirts you wear to work each day or pivot of your preferred pants, the things that you will consistently go after the should be upfront since they will be looked for and taken care of the most. Make it simpler for yourself not exclusively to discover these things yet in addition set them aside without disturbing the remainder of your storage room. You can likewise introduce wardrobe organizers from Wardrobe Accessories Manufacturers.

Think occasionally.

Going off of the above point, you likewise go after occasional things more. Basically, your adored summer shorts don't cut it in the fall and winter. Along these lines, it doesn't bode well that they occupy a significant wardrobe room when you won't wear them again for an additional half-year. We aren't instructing you to throw your shorts or any of your other summer attire besides, yet rather, to move them somewhere else so you can store the things that you'll really wear. 

Your storage room ought to consistently be composed via season. In the winter, sweaters and coats trump frilly and sheer botanical summer dresses. On the off chance that your wardrobe space is sufficiently large, basically place the entirety of the unavailable clothing in the back and move the in-season attire to the front. On the off chance that you have drawers or racks, stack the more occasional things on the top. In the event that you don't have space in your storeroom to do as such, remove everything from your wardrobe that won't be worn during the preparation and consider putting away those garments in vacuum stockpiling packs. These packs can hold anyplace between 20-40 garments and occupy almost no room once "smooshed". Consider slipping them under your bed or lean them along a storeroom divider you can get these packs from Wardrobe accessories suppliers. At the point when you're prepared, change out the substance with the appearance of each new season. 

Show signs of improvement holders.

Your holders might be the most serious issue in your storage room. Numerous holders are inconvenient and can occupy significantly more room then they hypothetically should. These holders frequently burglarize your storeroom of inches or in any case free space that you didn't have any acquaintance with you had, as burdensome holders stunt you into believing that your storage room is more full than it is. So as well, burdensome holders make it harder to pull and set things back in your storage room. 

However, much more dreadful than an inconvenient holder is a holder that makes garments slide off of. What is the purpose of a holder if it won't carry out its responsibility? We recommend getting thin space-sparing holders with a velvet grasp that will promptly clear up some space and make your clothing simple to snatch, sort out, and hang. 

Get innovative with organizers.

Utilizing organizers is an absolute necessity for a superior wardrobe and you needn't bother with extravagant, custom organizers, or manufactured ins to benefit as much as possible from your space. Staggered shoe racks are truly powerful at capitalizing on your floor space. Not exclusively are basic shoe racks incredible for holding shoes, yet on the off chance that you get a rack with level racks, you can likewise utilize the rack to store collapsed jeans and shirts, as well. Canisters are incredible for holding littler things and accessories, similar to belts and scarves, and occasional things, for example, swimsuits, and caps, and gloves. 

Clean up your storeroom!

Ultimately, the most significant thing in keeping a sorted out storage room is to continually be discerning of what's in it and to watch what you purchase. We don't think we are putting it all out there when we state that when we venture into our wardrobes, we go after a similar blend of things again and again. Numerous pieces in our wardrobes haven't been worn in a long time, and only from time to time are there ever truly plans to wear those pieces, either. With regards to these infrequently worn things, regardless of whether they are of the "what was I thinking when I purchased this?!" camp to "this was my preferred top 15 years prior!!" group, it's an ideal opportunity to cut your misfortunes and think about leaving behind them. On the off chance that you haven't worn it in the most recent year, you likely won't begin wearing it now since you would have worn it as of now. It's an ideal opportunity to give those pieces, repurpose them for sharp new uses, or rubbish them on the off chance that they are hopeless and proceed onward. 

Also Read:- Buy the Best Wardrobe Organizers From Wardrobe Accessories Suppliers

Moreover, it is likewise critical to screen the amount you are purchasing. It is anything but difficult to buy new garments left and right, however, on the off chance that you don't have space for it, that implies you may need to dispose of another thing to make room. This is an extraordinary general guideline to pass by on the off chance that you shop continually and consistently discover your wardrobe rounded after a wipeout: for each new thing you purchase, an old one gets thrown. On the opposite side of the coin, honestly, you probably won't need the garment you are going to purchase. You may cherish the print, however, it probably won't go with different things in your wardrobe delivering it futile once you own it, or, you may have bought an outfit for one-time use. Maintain a strategic distance from these goofs and purchase for the long stretch. Search for pieces that will remain in style, can be utilized between seasons, worn to various occasions, and match with things you own as of now.

[sunbrights]

fic: somewhere surely lived (6/14)

fandom: danganronpa characters/pairings: fuyuhiko & peko as main POV characters + a "relationship of the day" character + some side characters. kuzupeko + 6 secondary ships. rating: e (not all chapters have smut, but a fair number of them do) summary: Hope's Peak is not just a dating program; it's a guarantee. With the right compatible partner, the benefits are endless: boosted life expectancy, improved self-esteem, increased productivity, new opportunities, better overall work and life satisfaction. For society's elite, Hope's Peak makes finding that partner straightforward, if not easy.

It provides an Ultimate Match-- provided the participants are willing to go through its paces.

(AU based on the Black Mirror episode, "Hang the DJ.")

read on AO3

36 HOURS

Peko sighs.

“I suppose I can see how it could be disappointing,” her partner says.

Her name is Sakura; she is a tall, broad woman with a weathered face and intense eyes. She is striking, and Peko realizes she’s given her the wrong impression.

Sakura’s tone had been wry, not unkind, but her understanding shouldn’t excuse Peko’s misstep. “I’m sorry,” she says. “That was rude. I’m not disappointed, I…”

She realizes mid-thought that the truth is possibly even more of a social faux pas. Sakura only looks at her steadily, and Peko fumbles her words. The pause stretches long enough to be unnatural, and then long enough to be awkward.

All she can think to say is “... I’m sorry,” again.

Sakura isn’t offended; she smiles, a calm slant of her mouth on one side, and lays her napkin out over her lap. “It’s fine,” she says. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“But—”

“The system moves you quickly from one relationship to the next,” she says. “There’s little time for recovery or reflection in between. It’s a relief to have a short period where expectations can stay relatively low.”

Peko finds herself staring. “Yes.”

“You are my seventh relationship,” Sakura says. “I understand.”

The server stops by their table. They’re given the same meal for dinner: oven roasted lamb chops with a mint chimichurri, medium rare. It’s delicious, if imperfect for the both of them. Sakura comments that hers is overcooked; Peko counters that hers is undercooked. Sakura suggests that they swap, but both plates are almost exactly the same, and trading hardly makes a difference at all.

"Perhaps we should have expected that," Peko says, and Sakura chuckles, deep in her chest.

"Perhaps so."

It's the most relaxed Peko thinks she has ever been, on one of the system's introductory dinners. She resists the urge to tap the device to check the time, and tucks it into the bottom of her purse instead.

*

Their living quarters are smaller than any of the ones she’s had before. It’s compact, but not sparse or unappealing. She likes it. She appreciates that about the system, if nothing else: it is exactly what it needs to be, for exactly as long as it’s needed.

The fireplace doesn’t ignite automatically. She assumes it’s something to do with seasonality; the temperature controls of the building are state-of-the-art and likely could easily adjust for the additional heat, but it would still be strange, this deep into mid-summer. The shutters on the front windows whirr open instead, and she can see the pulsing glows of fireflies darting through the grass outside.

“Before we go any further,” Sakura says, when she closes the door behind them, “I would like to be clear about something.”

Peko turns to listen.

“I have no intention of consenting to anything physical in the time we’ve been given,” Sakura says. “I apologize if that goes against any expectations you may have had.”

“No,” Peko answers, “I understand.” She looks back out the window. It only takes a moment for another spot of light to wink in and back out. “But… that doesn’t mean the time can’t still be enjoyable.”

Sakura says, “I agree,” and Peko can hear the smile in her voice.

*

They share the bed that night, and sleep back-to-back.

*

Peko finds that their schedules are extremely similar: they wake up at the same time, and have the same regular routine of morning stretches. It’s inconvenient before it’s charming; she’s reminded that their living quarters are smaller than average when it turns out there isn’t room for both of them to stretch at the same time.

Sakura has her morning workout. Peko goes for her run. When she comes back, the doors and windows have been thrown open to let in the summer air, and there’s a crackling, savory scent billowing out onto the road.

Sakura is making breakfast: pan-seared fish next to bowls of natto rice and miso soup, in heaping portions. They don’t even have a full kitchen, but Sakura has found the ingredients and a small portable stove, and that must have been sufficient. Everything she’s made takes up the entirety of their small coffee table.

“Ah,” Sakura says, when Peko is standing in the doorway. “Good timing.” She cracks a raw egg into each bowl of rice. “Would you like coffee?”

“I would,” Peko answers, taking a seat on the settee. “Black, please. Thank you.”

Sakura pours it for her. Peko has to hold the mug in her lap, to make room for the plates of food on the table, but that’s fine. The warm, rich smell of it fills her chest and smooths through her tired muscles.

“I didn’t realize there were so many options,” she admits. “I suppose I assumed we were limited to what the system had already made available.”

“The system will provide anything you need,” her device responds. “All you need to do is ask!”

Sakura inclines her head at it. “All the short-term living quarters are sorely lacking when it comes to breakfast supplies,” she says. “I’ve gotten into the habit of requesting them.”

This is her seventh relationship. The number seems high— but at the same time, Peko has no idea how long the average person spends in the system. The only number Hope’s Peak releases is its success rate: 99.8%. Any more than that, so the argument went, and participants would enter the system with too-concrete expectations, and confound the results.

“I’m surprised it’s allowed,” she says, “given how closely the system monitors everything else.”

“The system monitors this, too,” Sakura answers. “The system monitors every choice. Its main goal is efficacy balanced against efficiency, so any choice outside the norm is a valuable data point.”

“That’s correct!” her device announces from the mantelpiece. Sakura ignores it, and stirs the ingredients in her rice bowl.

“You don’t seem to have much confidence in it,” Peko observes.

Sakura’s smile twists around her chopsticks. “Then I haven’t explained myself well,” she says, when she’s swallowed her bite. “The system promises compatibility. It’s designed to produce mutually-beneficial partnerships. I have no doubt in its ability to do that.”

“But?”

“‘But’?” Sakura echoes. “That’s all. That’s what the system promises. That’s what it delivers.”

She is giving Peko that same, steady look. Peko doesn’t get the impression she’s being dishonest or evasive, but the conversation still feels complex in a way that’s difficult to quantify. On the surface, it’s a logical perspective, if also a cold one. But Sakura’s look burns too much for that to be all there is.

Peko finds herself wishing they had more time.

“What do you think?” Sakura asks her, setting her bowl back on the table. “Do you think the system will be able to generate an Ultimate Match for you?”

The question has never been asked before. Not to her, at least. Participation in the system by nature implies confidence in its methods. All of the evidence Hope’s Peak provides comes from testimonials, however: a success rate based on reports of perfect matches, pairing days with enthusiastic couples, previous participants with quotes in the introductory materials. The system works if you let it.

Instead, Peko thinks about here, now; she thinks about the food in front of her and the ease of conversation and just how comfortable the last twelve hours have been. The system predicted that compatibility, not her.

“I do,” she decides.

Sakura nods. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

*

The aquatics center on the bottom level of the central hub is a massive facility. It contains a gym and a sauna in addition to the lap pool, and all participants are provided free access while they’re progressing through the system. They go together for their afternoon workouts, and agree to take each other through their respective routines.

It’s as fascinating to see how another person’s perspective overlaps with hers as it is to see how it deviates; Sakura focuses more on strength training while Peko has always leaned into endurance and flexibility, but that still leaves plenty of room for them both to learn and borrow from each other.

Sakura excuses herself for water. When she comes back, she hovers at the edge of Peko’s set, waiting for her to finish. She’s watching, but not focused, critically or otherwise. It’s the first time Peko has seen her uncertain.

“Is there something wrong?” Peko asks, sitting up.

“No,” Sakura answers, and the finality of it seems to calm her uneasiness. “There is… someone I would like you to meet, actually.” She turns her shoulders toward the exit of the gym. “Do you have a moment?”

Peko does, so she follow Sakura out through the facility, down to the indoor lap pool. The air is hot and humid, even with the building’s robust environmental settings; it sticks on Peko’s already-sweaty skin.

Sakura leads her down to the end of the pool, where a girl has just pulled herself out of the water. “Aoi,” Sakura calls, “are you finished for today?”

The girl is still flushed from her swim, from her chest up to her neck. Dark hair sticks out from beneath a blue swimming cap. She squirts water directly into her mouth from a water bottle.

She lights up with a smile, when she turns her head and finds Sakura’s face. “Yep!” she chirps. “What’s up?”

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Sakura says. She steps aside to give Peko room to step forward. “This is my current partner, Peko.”

“Oh! Hi!” the girl says, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. “I’m Aoi. It’s nice to meet you! I’d shake your hand, but I’m kinda still...” She smiles sheepishly, showing Peko her damp palms.

“That’s alright,” Peko says. “It’s nice to meet you, as well.”

Peko imagines that Aoi should feel like an interloper, but she doesn’t; she is social and friendly, and bulldozes any awkwardness before it can find a foothold. She suggests that they all stop at the restaurant upstairs for dinner together, and bounces on the balls of her feet when Peko accepts.

“I’m glad you’re here!” Aoi says, on their way out. She swings her towel around her shoulders, and hoists her drawstring bag on her back. “I always said that Sakura needed a training partner.”

“I do have a training partner,” Sakura says behind them, and her voice has a gentle, softened quality to it Peko hasn’t heard before.

“I don’t just mean me,” Aoi complains. “There’s only so much we can do on our own! I mean training, your kind of training.”

“All training is my kind of training.”

“Me and Sakura are gonna be the ultimate team,” Aoi tells Peko. “Strongest on land and fastest in the water! That’s the goal!” She pounds her fists together. “I mean, with the system we don’t get as much time together as we used to, but that’s not gonna stop us! Right, Sakura?”

Behind them, Sakura laughs, full and rich. “Yes.”

*

Halfway through dinner, Peko realizes that if there is anyone at the table who could be labeled an interloper, it is her, not Aoi.

She doesn’t feel excluded. She feels warm and welcomed, and as the timer counts down she can only be disappointed at the impending end of a newly-budding friendship. But there is an additional layer at the table that she isn’t a part of, will never be a part of, and, perhaps, has never actually experienced for herself.

She twists her fork in her pasta, and wonders if the system has made note of that, too.

*

They read into the evening, out on the porch swing. The glow from the outside light is almost too dim to see by, but she makes do; it’s comfortable here, where the air is warm and quiet, circulated by a lazy breeze. The fireflies peek in and out, from the grass near their feet down to the line of trees in the distance.

Peko finishes her chapter. She checks her device, and the countdown has dipped below eight hours. “It’s late,” she says. “I should sleep.”

“I’d like to finish this section,” Sakura answers, skimming her finger beneath her next page. “But I’ll join you shortly.”

Peko nods. She sets her place in her book and steps off the swing. She’ll need to close the window shutters but remember to leave the front light on, and—

“Peko.”

She turns in the doorway; Sakura has her chin tilted up to the sky, and the edge of her hand pressed into the spine of her book. It’s a clear, cloudless night, and the stars are like a reflection of the fireflies in the grass, winking in and out.

“This has been time well-spent,” Sakura says. “Thank you.”

“Yes,” Peko answers softly. “I agree.”

*

Peko goes to bed. She hears the front door open and close, in the moments before she falls asleep. The space beside her is empty when she does.

*

It is still empty, in the morning.

The blanket is still folded over the edge of the mattress on the opposite side, and the pillow beside her head is still as round and fluffed as it had been the morning before. Peko herself moves very little in her sleep; the neat tuck of the sheets has hardly been disturbed at all.

She sits up. She touches the face of her device, and the time remaining blinks back up at her: two hours, three minutes.

“Sakura?” she calls.

The couch is empty, too. None of the pillows or cushions have been disturbed. Nothing has been taken from the cabinets, and the sinks in the bathroom are dry.

Everything is pristine— except for the book, Sakura’s book, abandoned on the porch swing outside. There is a pretty bookmark set near the center of the pages: a simple ink print of a rose on a deep red background.

On the back, someone has written: Some things cannot be calculated.

“Usami,” she says.

The device lights up in her other hand. “Yes, Peko?”

The ink making up the rose is slightly raised; Peko runs her thumb over the ridges of it, and looks out across the grass. If Sakura had wanted to go somewhere undetected, she would not have left evidence behind. If finding her is Peko’s goal, reporting it to the system is the most logical solution.

The device waits for input. The pale purple ring around the center pulses with the rhythm of background noise picked up by the microphone: the breeze on the window shutters, the songs of birds beginning at the start of their days, the whisper of cloth when Peko shifts her weight.

It goes dark when it doesn’t pick up on a voice.

She goes back inside. She sets the device on the mantelpiece, and pours herself a mug of coffee.

END

[gaudeixcc]

Peleton News – Confessions (G18 Tour special – April 2018)

This year’s tour was a little fractured to start with.

JT, my honorable (although diminutive) co-chair has been living in Munich for some time, so has reluctantly lobbed all administrative tasks my way. He still of course has a pointy figure hovering over the keyboard most hours of the day to fire off a bullet-like reminder should any delegated task fall in to the overdue category.

My approach this year had been to further convolute the whole process by sub-delegating further down the value chain. This year RTA picked up route-planning duties, shouldering the full burden once Moley had thrown the metaphoric towel into the Gaudeix corner.

JT arrived the night before to settle into Hotel Mariposa and to busy himself ready for our arrival next morning, where, his welcoming party preparation of sundry nibbles, iced towels, freshly pressed mango juice and 6 flutes of chilled Champaign could be seen exactly nowhere.

Quietly bikes were built and readied.

I don’t with to appear overly-critical at this early stage, however I feel it is important to highlight areas where improvement could be made.

My first area of improvement relates to a mathematical ratio.

13.2 is an acceptable ratio.

60 is a completely unacceptable ratio.

Back in the day when I rode motorcycles for my thrill-seeking pleasure, the most expensive item of an accessory nature was the helmet. An oft quoted saying was ‘If you’ve got a £10 head, get a £10 helmet’.

I valued my head at considerable more than £10 and hence why I could be seen peacocking about the place in the latest stealth MotoGP inspired bonce-protecting loveliness from Arai, makers of the very best.

And the same is true of bikes and their bags.

If you’ve got a ratty old Trek which you equally be happy to see as landfill as opposed to nestled between your legs, then by all means bag it with a carrier from Tesco.

If on the other hand you have a carbonfibre creation, with composite wheels, electronic shifting and less weight than a fat sparrow, then for fucks sake, buy a proper bag.

Is there a correlation between 2 visits to a bike shop for fixing 2 bikes hurled into fifty quid bags?

Answers on a postcard…

Next year we are going to be introducing the video referee to dish out ‘after the event’ fines and tickets to offences against cycling such as this little atrocity.

Anyway, peleton delayers aside, we had quite a good tour from a reliability perspective.

No flats at all in 3 days of riding.

Not bad going considering the excess baggage about 50% of the peloton where wheeling about the place.

It can be a harsh life travelling with a pack of cyclists. As a group, we are generally slow to acknowledge quality but lightening-fast to highlight weakness.

This year’s theme was most definitely fatness.

It all started when Dripping decided to relax on day one and let his guard down.

The relief a fat Victorian lady must feel when at the end of a day grazing on mutton, savory puddings and broiled swan, she releases the strings on her corset, was probably how Dripping felt as he gently supped an ale whilst not ‘tensed’ or ‘sucking it in for dear life’ sitting quietly in the sun.

It was harsh and cruel for Mac to take a picture of Dripping at rest in such an unguarded state. The resulting snap caused almost immediate physiological damage, which was then added to by verbal slappery of the worst kind from almost all.

Macca’s boobs got a much lower level of attention than would otherwise have been.

But the real crime in the whole torrid ‘fatgate’ affair, was a quietly outed photo from Colchester Mac which showed what looked like a Michelin Man ballooned around a struggling Cannondale, legs bouncing hard off an impressive midriff as the owner snuffled and puffed his sorry arse up a hill.

That night James in a moment of shocking and completely unexpected kindness said to me ‘You’ve put on a bit of timber this year’…..

It’s about as nice as he’s ever been to me in the 15 years of friendship we have shared.

Ever.

Meanwhile, back in the Peloton, Whatsapp was on fire as fat Michelin man took a breather from cycling, sat down, drank a beer, guzzled food and then promptly took a micro-nap to allow his body to digest this latest onslaught of calories.

The peloton…. They can be mighty cruel to those built for comfort.

Anyway…let’s move on. Let’s talk compliments….

‘Love the tattoos’

‘You’re girlfriend is very pretty. The plastic she has had inserted in the chest area is both proportionally perfect and pleasing to the eye’

‘Nice denim’

‘Wow.. impressive steed’.

All of the above are probably good ways to make a hells angel feel special.

Alternatively, you could surprise the life out of him by slapping him on the arse as you cycle past at 15 mph…. showing shock and dismay on your face and general surprise that he hadn’t apparently heard your tinckly bike-bell.

I arrived at a stationary Peloton to find Macca being verbally abused by a very angry biker who was busy calling us all arseholes……. I mean he was right…. Must have been a lucky guess.

This was another visible demonstration of Macca’s intolerance to a good swathe of human kind.

On the flight out, Moley’s seat on the plane had been taken by a Turkish lady of more senior years and built like I will be if I don’t stop eating constantly.

She was resting up from the exertion of having had to climb the stairs at the rear of the bus and drag her cabin bag the 6 yards to her seat. The bag was then occupying Macca’s seat whilst she appeared to be cuddling it.

This was clearly a cue for some helpful soul to then lift it into one of the overhead lockers and help her out.

Macca, ignoring this cue like the plague, barked at her. He informed the startled greek lady that he owned the seat, not her bag, and would she kindly get a shift on and move it.

The plane went awkwardly quiet.

Trembling, the lady dressed in black wobbled to her feet and with oscilating bingo wings hoisted the bag upward. There was a moment or 2 when none of us could be sure the bag was going to make it. Like an Olympic weightlifter going  for a PB, there was a pause, a grunt and then a final push… the bag was in.

Macca looked on in bland indifference.

She sat down, glazed with a sheen of garlic and thyme perspiration.

I think secretly Macca was hoping for an engine issue, a wayward turbofan blade and the exiting of the Greek weightlifter from the above-wing window seat.

He fumed quietly for most of the flight.

I suppose I should at some point talk about the cycling.

As with all these tours there is a lot to cover. But, as with most years, I generally can’t be arsed doing so and instead revert to the well-established highlights list.

So, here goes for G18, Malaga;

• Dripping confessing to having voted tactically in previous tours when it came to the yellow cap. Berlusconi-esque in its political nefariousness • C&N orange camo base layer • Mrs RTA’s contribution to the tour…. Can’t name it for legal reasons, but it went down exceptionally well • RTA’s ghost-like completion on date realisation • General higher standard of dress quality (although I still feel the shame and hurt from the explicit savaging I got from Dripping on the yellow cap voting paper… he went into enough detail to require and appendix FFS…) • Damo’s use of the back pen on photos • Whilst he did fuck all in his season of pink, Damo did at least sort out everyone elses mechanical catastrafucks whilst on tour • RTA’s route planning. Magestic. Simply nailed it to the floor. The pink was going one way only after 3 days of beautiful scenery • I hate losing. I especially hate losing to Dripping. I especially especially hate losing to Dripping twice. First time I made an error of timing. After having nearly lost a lung hunting down my prey I should have tailed his sorry ass for half a K before nailing the finish. I didn’t and paid heavily. Day 3’s mechanical was akin to running out of petrol 50 yards short of the finish line. I was running in the red and Drip snuck in and nicked my lunch. Absolute bastard. • Col Mac’s ‘Spam’ top • Macca’s deep-seated suspicion of foreign restaurants… he had me convinced that the preparers of our final meal where going to triple the bill, hack our phones, empty our accounts, spit in our food and quite possibly steal our children. What they actually ended up doing was serving us food which was simply sensational and probably the best meal I’ve eaten in the last 12 months, and then go on to charge us very modestly for it too. • Strange fact number 1. Everything edible in Malaga is cooked in beef fat. • Strange fact number 2. There is nothing wrong with 7 over 40 year olds drinking pink gin with berries in the glass. Completely hetrosexual and in keeping with the modern men we are. (On reflection, I think Colchester Mac way have swerved the gin actually) • If I have to hear one more bloody time about how good wahoo is…… you didn’t invent the fucking thing for the love of sweet baby Jesus… • Shit Garmins • The descent on day 3…on day one going up it I nearly died…. On day 3 coming down I could have cried…. Probably the best descent this peloton has tasted. • This year’s tour caps…. Top quality. • A vintage year that saw our first triple-cap…. ! Yes, my (well deserved) orange nailed a hat trick of caps (although only 2 physical caps probably maketh the point moot). • Desire takes many forms. But few have the strength and longing that have been displayed with the force of a Dripping wanting yellow. He may have ‘bought’ the cap, but god it was worth it to see his little face!! • Murdering 9 oranges to make 1 drink

And finally, whilst we have our highlights list, we also have a lowlights list. This one is my own personal list…. Only 2 entries… and neither of them spotted or witnessed by the Peloton;

1. On unpacking my bike and reassembling, somehow my fat fucking fingers and squinty eyesight have managed to crush the Di2 cable that runs the front mech…. FFS… bike now on turbo in just the little ring…. Horrible humble and apologetic call to Damo/Amy coming shortly. I can actually feel Damo’s eyebrows raise as he reads this…. (and can actually here him say ‘well you’re a fucking idiot aren’t you’…..) 2. Do you know what Raybans hitting tarmac at 20 mph sound like? No? It took me a while to figure it out too…. Well, 10 miles worth of fast riding to be precise…. And then I sulked quietly for 20 mins when I realised that day 2 would be the last time I went our armed with more than one pair of sunnies…… I kepy it quiet because Trusler would have definitely shit himself laughing at that one…..

So there we have it. Drip and Mac need new bike bags if they are to show their cycling faces ever again, Macca needs to take a tolerance pill twice daily, Damo needs to tut in my general direction, JT needs to not mention sunnies to me ever again, Moley needs to get his shit together in readiness for G19 and RTA needs to take a well deserved bow to a round of applause from the Peloton.

Malaga, G18…. Magic.

Hoppo

[bandaidkits]

After much too long, I (with a sprinkling of other alters) have finally sat down and watched Th/or Rag/nar/ok, and I have a hell of a lot of say.

So. Clearly it’s a major tone change from the usual Thor movies, previously told to me by the mother, which is. Really not fine. Honestly I feel the change messes with the narrative and the flow of how the series as a whole was. And I say was because I can’t get past the glaring errors of this movie.

Did I like it? Not entirely. As a whole, no. There were some bits I laughed at. Some bits that I’m quite pleased got addressed (such as when Hulk slammed Th/or around like a bean bag and I jumped up and shouted that now he knows how it feels! That was beyond rewarding), but there wasn’t enough. 

What’s going to happen to Bruce now that he turned into the Hulk after he said he shouldn’t? What will happen to me after I return to earth? Why did Thor suddenly become Odin 2.0? Being the king of Asgard doesn’t mean one needs to lose their eye. Honestly I feel that was in poor taste. Also the destroying of his hammer. I was waiting for that to be fixed at the end. Never happened. What’s Thor without his hammer? Or his hair for that matter? I don’t know if this was the director’s choice or the actor’s choice, but it was a bad one. I’m assuming Chris had extensions in for this movie and the last, so what was the point in cutting it? I don’t believe it was ever cut in the comics.

Now let’s move onto Hela and Fenrir. Marvel is already known for bastardizing Norse beliefs. We know this. We should not accept this but fans do so anyway because there is nothing we can do.

There isn’t much to say other than Hela (Hel) is actually my daughter, not Odin’s, as well as Fenrir. This whole “big sister comes back to wreck havoc on Asgard to get back at dear old dad and the family she never met before” is ridiculous. It’s a bad plot. Also, she looks nothing like Frigga or Odin and I’ve already seen people say they see the family resemblance between her and I, and that is... stupid. I am adopted. I am not Asgardian and I never will be because I am a Frost Giant and that is all it is and will be end of story.

Without getting too deep into their terrible take on that, honestly it would have been better if they stuck with the Loki has several children thing. It would make more sense why she actually looks like me. Are you scared, Marvel? Are you scared to show big scary mischievous Loki as a parent? It wouldn’t even do anything, in fact it would show me in a more “villain” light. I have a lot of odd children who do not so great things?? I really think that would tie into that (stagnant) character (more on that later) they’ve built for me. Unless, they are going for the Loki redemption arc. Which. How is that going to happen? The movie ends with us going to earth. A place where everyone is either terrified or scared of me. And after the whole Cap 3 movie with those treaties, how is that going to work?

The next movie coming out is In/fin/ity War. Just reading the plot is giving me a headache. Too many characters. So what Marvel is telling me, is that we are all taking the ship full of Asgardians to earth, to set up some sort of life there for all those otherworldly people, and then, somehow, Thanos finally makes it to earth after years and years, gets the infinity stones, and we team up with the Gua/rdians of the Ga/laxy to save the earth. All of us. All the Av/engers, who have fallen apart since Civil War, other people who’s names I don’t even recognize. Even me. Me! What is with that major shift? Please get a proper narrative for your movies, Marvel. I’m getting tired of all this running around in circles. You haven’t let me down this much since Th/or 2 and Civil War.

(And I did not like Civil War, because, even though I didn’t watch it myself, Bucky did. And he knows better than anyone how that movie should have went.

The most I can say is the movie babies Tony, as if he’s some feeble child who is suffering so dearly from something that is never mentioned to have affected him before this movie. This was not an Ir/on Man movie. This was a Cap/tain Ame/rica movie. If we wanted to see Tony being the star, we would have paid for an Ir/on Man movie. This was supposed to feature Steve as the main character, focus on his feelings, his views most of all, but it instead painted him as some stubborn idiot who has outlandish ideas and only cares about saving his friend.

And in the end, what happens. Tony blows off Bucky’s arm and afterwards they all decide to put this man, who has been trying to heal and be a better person, into the ice. I highly doubt Bucky would have wanted to get within five feet of that thing. And Steve somehow barely shows Bucky an ounce of that best friendship he insists they have. No hug at the end. Nothing significant. They just put him under. Why? Wouldn’t that remind him of Hydra? Nowhere in that entire movie did he turn on any of them. He was not a threat. There was nothing pointing him to being a threat anymore and yet, he comes out of nowhere with that? 

Unacceptable.)

Onto my character. They seem extremely intent on making my role the God of Misch/ief and nothing more. The little change of heart at the end isn’t enough. Especially with the pause, stare longingly at the tessaract, cut to another scene, oh Loki thanks for saving the day!, except oh no where is he oh that’s right he’s on the ship suddenly with no explanation at all whatsoever and Thor didn’t even seem the least bit concerned and it really gave off the impression that he didn’t care for me at all and essentially gave up on me halfway through the movie.

“I mourned for you” doesn’t mean a whole lot when you keep tossing me aside when I get too difficult for you. Thor’s undying love for me is a major element of his character! It’s so shoved in our faces in the first two movies and the Ave/ngers. And now it’s barely touched upon. And how can I even blame him when my character is so stagnant. Why am I not getting character development that even people like Tony got? (not very good development but that’s a review for another day and Bucky is more suited to writing about it) If there aren’t some improvements of my character by the next movie there’s going to be a serious problem. If they make me betray everyone by the end and it falls into the old grating shoved down everyone’s throat trickster god is only ever going to be a trickster and will never amount to anything else narrative I’m going to rip out all my hair and my eyes.

Moving on. Odin dying. My fault? How? I didn’t strip him of any powers. Odin is a god. He’s powerful. I left him on earth and if he wanted to leave, he would have, but he did not. He was perfectly content down there. Heimdall should have seen and known all of this (which is the issue with an all seeing all knowing character because if they are able to see all then why did they not do anything with their knowledge? Plot holes. So many of them). Odin died because he was old and should have died years and years ago. That was not my fault and to pin it on me was unfair. Grief is understandable but the scene did not play out properly.

Ruling Asgard so frivolously, so stupidly... and doing a piss poor job of acting the moment Thor comes back was cringey at best. Ridiculous and inconsistent with my abilities shown in the second movie. The shapeshifting ability is something that is very poorly presented in this movie. I know it is a Thor movie and it is focused on him but if they can take a Cap movie and make it into a Tony’s Very Sad Day movie then I think they can put a little more effort into characterizing me properly, especially when I have such a big presence in the comics and I’m such an integral part of the family and a fan favorite.

The opening scene sweeps everything Thor’s been doing under the rug with a very small explanation and nothing to show for it. 

And going back to the use of humour in this movie. Or rather, the overuse of humour. The other movies had their fair share of mild humour thrown in so as to not set the tone of the movies as more heavy than they already are. Just a little is enough. These movies aren’t humour based. They aren’t supposed to be funny to the point where I’m completely thrown off by the complete shift of tone from the other movies in the series. I went into this movie expecting more jokes, but not that many. It really took away from the main focus. It was too funny. There were too many light moments.

(In an unrelated criticism, the relationship with Jane being such a big thing in the first and second movies, then suddenly being tossed aside around the time of Age of Ul/tron and being only mentioned once in this movie doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t we see any of this? Why even put her in the movies in the first place if she was just going to be tossed aside later? Why the unnecessary romantic subplot that irked a number of fans to begin with? It’s almost as if the writers realized they didn’t have a use for her anyone and scrapped her. They shouldn’t have put her in the movies as a romantic interest in the first place.)

If this is the direction they’re going for the next movies, then I don’t know how I’m going to handle watching them. I wish it was as simple as sending a letter to Marvel and having them rethink their scripts but unless enough people complain about it, they won’t care.

TD;LR: Too much humour in a movie that really did not need it. Bad tone. Stagnant characters. Plot holes. Bad choices. I’ll give it a 4/10.

[punkscowardschampions]

Tommy & Ali

Chatting ‘bout Christmas, boy troubles, pregnancy AND THE FACT THE BABY IS TOTALLY NOT DREW’S LOLLOLLOL

Tommy: Oi! 😼 What you gettin da cos like even I feel cheeky considering socks for 2 years running Ali joined the chat 3 hours ago Tommy: I was gonna go full rivers of whiskey cept I'd probs drown myself in it before the bottle was in the bag 😂 Ali: So you should, elf on the shelf! Socks should only ever be an add-on prezzie, even if they're DEAD comical, like. Ali: Speaking of elf on the shelf, would you be willing to come round mine every day at the crack of dawn (aka JUST before the kiddos will arise like horrible demon krakkens from the depths) so I can arrange you in comical positions and situations? Ali: They love that shit. I on the other hand want to murder the CEO of whatever company/the high-key mum mafia that made this shit popular again. Ali: I've got me thinking cap on for the old man for ye...Hmm Ali: (and how rude to get cuffed for the season and not even get to the part where you get a bomb-ass present/someone to tout around the family functions...rude. You not actually at the bottom of a bottle quite yet though, yeah? Doing the obligatory welfare checkup here) Tommy: Excuse you miss money bags! 💰 just 'cause you're one of the rare artists who ain't starving like! some of us don't have boyfriends who cook or paying audiences Tommy: so yeah obvs! Gotta keep in shape just in case don't I? catch me pirouetting across your patio bitch Tommy: Green's my colour these days and red's always been signature Tommy: I'm alright (love you for asking!) how's you? Tommy: Genuinely Ali: Oh yeah, 'cos father will flip his shit if the price tag ain't AT LEAST three figs... 😏 Silly billy, and oi, oi! My student loan ain't kicked in yet ...I'm on a gap yaaaaaah though, darling, I've simply GOTTA act like a frivilous rich bitch. Deal with it, you're still the shady bitch of the fam, okay? 😘 Ali: Yaaasss, you're gonna have to drop a couple of pounds to fit in that teeny costume but a day in the life of a TRUE star init, babe? I believe in you Ali: Bet you didn't come here to be called fat, did you? How fucking cheeky is that forreal Ali: Colour of luck boy 🍀🍀🍀 Ali: Hmm, ngl I'm in a bit of a...situation, and I ain't talking I've forgot to order a turkey Tommy: Imagine...jog on old man just 'cause went for the quantity with the sprogs doesn't mean you'll get quality back soz Tommy: try it but good luck trying to get your little uns to deal with you being the spoilt one 😂 Tommy: well since I got the 🍀 its 🤞 Tommy: feckin hell has caleb forgotten kids are for life not just chrimbo again? Tommy: I'll deck his halls if he's being a prick Ali: That'll show him! That's what you get for bringing me into this world, whole lotta backchat and not an ounce of grattitude, take that! Ali: Join me 'cos I'm sure that's what mum feels I've got her Ali: We did Rio's first Xmas morning, and 2nd, at home! It really is Caleb's fams turn Ali: I can't help that its Junie's first, evidently I ain't planning this shit woman! Ali: #contraceptionwhomst? #pulloutnhopeforthebest #itswhatgodwouldwant Ali: And it ain't like we're not coming over for a second dinner, we fat as hell, get wid it and pass the gravy Ali: Catch me in the tesco throwing tantrums with Rio on the reg tbh #twocanplayatthatgamehoney #childrenraisingchildren Ali: Nah, although loving all the macho threats of violence when my honour is at stake as of late...Is my drama letting you live up to your full brotherly potential? Welcome... Ali: TMI, give a shit, but I'm late on and I've thrown up a few times, not from the mother's ruin, like Ali: hahahahahama'sgonnakillmeisn'tshe Ali: whatthefucklike Tommy: Who you kidding you're the blatant fave & lbr if the lord's got his specs on should be even more so for following her shining example like Tommy: honor thy father and mother and all that Tommy: who doesn't love a mini me Tommy: especially one who can sing every sperm is sacred with perf pitch Tommy: Amen! this aint 1850 pass the roasties gdi! Tommy: all we want for christmas is carbs Tommy: OH MY CHRIST NOT AGAIN Tommy: 😧 Tommy: I know you're on your gap year but no need to be so literal Ali: Ha, please! Not Tess Vickers' fave. Da's, obviously, as he is mine, (babe). You and Joe are the momma's boys, always have been, you needy little babbas. Ali: A woman who doesn't love herself...damn, too deep, reverse, reverse! Ali: You'd be surprised how annoying an all-singing-all-dancing constant reminder of all your best and worst bits is Ali: Usually the best, which is happy-making magic, but when its the worst...GOOD LORDT. Plus its a reminder of the same in your other half, and we all like to overlook that shit now, don't we? *sips tea* Ali: God I am gonna go HAM with my 'cravings' this Chrimbo...what timing! Maybe I did plan this after-all Ali: but no, I did not Ali: But yeah...this is a thing I'm processing, thought I'd drag you down with me 🤷 Tommy: I was gonna be all like not with him probs dead in a ditch and me one audition away from getting cosy in a cardboard box but I better swerve too dont wanna spend the season with the samaritans on speed dial Tommy: you and fraze are the success stories savor it Tommy: honey I've got a mirror Tommy: and near constant feedback from them in the know Tommy: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Tommy: that's calebs chrimbo gift sorted then yeah? Ali: Lordy, I know we're Irish but there's no need to be that fuckin' maudlin, Tommo Ali: Oh, you wanted an idea for Da but that is SO Fraze's prezzie Ali: Just tell him that, all day. Money can't buy that kinda happiness Ali: The spirit of the Holidays Ali: Them in the know don't know shit Ali: I mean...gift or curse? Ali: We've only just got back on track, this is probably going to derail the whole damn caboose Tommy: everyone's a critic and there's only one shane macgowan I hear ya Tommy: I reckoned you meant a mirror for a sec I was like uh huh he's got that one covered love 😏 Tommy: Hey! That's mine covered 🙋 just repeat that back to me Tommy: those clueless cunts Tommy: Nah he'll be buzzing esp if he gets another girl Tommy: there's only one Rio but he's shameless ha Tommy: leave the cursing for ma she'll be doing plenty once she's done stuffing your stocking with contraceptives Ali: Mhmm, save it for the improptu karaoke when we're all feeling merry on the day, like Ali: Lmao, he'd live in a 360 degree view changing room if he could Ali: How millenial of us! Lets just gift each other with positive affirmations Ali: Maybe...Gah Ali: Whatever, whether he deals or doesn't, doesn't change the fact I am with child again and yeah, Caleb's reaction is the least of my worries Ali: I'm going to be going to Uni abroad with 3 kids...damn Ali: If I don't get locked away for my own good, of course Tommy: 😇 Will do Tommy: I reckon that's the goal when he 'makes it' Tommy: scrawl it on my personalised starbies cup and have done babe Tommy: You're grand it'll just be one hell of a plane ride Tommy: 🍀 & 🤞 Tommy: OH SHIT WAIT Tommy: the whole Caleb reaction thing has me thinking...not to be rude but Tommy: it is his yeah? Ali: It better be Ali: Aside from the Drew incident I didn't shag anyone else Ali: and we used a condom Ali: I mighta been several sheets to the wind but I hadn't lost my whole goddamn mind Tommy: thank christ for that Tommy: imagine trying to play happy families with that twat Ali: Amen Ali: Yeah that isn't the life I've signed up for Ali: Bitches forget I already got a ring on my finger, like Ali: Legal or otherwise Tommy: Beyonce is here for your union Tommy: good enough for me Tommy: low key proud of ya not to be an enabler but like Tommy: I'll happily hooray you getting Drew to put something on it too god knows where that fuckboy's been Ali: Thank you! I will take that hooray because I literally had to mum Ro's arse and tell her to do the same every time Ali: AND had to do it in such a way it didn't sound like I was saying as much, like, your boyf is a cheater and we all know it sweetie Tommy: ugh 😷 glad you did though I hear your next door nemesis had to get herself to the clinic sharpish & i don't reckon she'd spread gossip that'd make her out to be riddled Tommy: 🦀🐛 Ali: 🤢😤 Unsurprised on both their behalf there but low-key furious Ali: he knows how that bitch treats Ro, and always has done Ali: there's being a cheat with any random hoe and then there's that...is it me or is that next-level careless? Ali: To the point it looks like he's doing it to hurt her, I'm sure he's just ignorant but, like, what the fuck?!!? Tommy: RIGHT? Tommy: like I don't doubt she ain't telling him all the ins and outs of her childhood drama but still Tommy: even with more brains than biceps he's gotta have a clue or two Tommy: OOOPS ACCIDENTAL COMPLIMENT Tommy: I'm offended on my own behalf Tommy: almost as cringe as once thinking he was hot 🤓😳 kms Ali: Yeah but it ain't like he's not been here...and she's still a cunt to Ro now, so Ali: Tries to be to me but who's listening, Bitch I'm deaf all of a sudden??? Ali: Hahahahaha Ali: He's attractive, to the point its kinda fact more than opinion so I don't think you're alone on that score Ali: If the notches on his bedpost are anything to go by...and I fucked him so can't be judging, consider your sins absolved, no hail mary's needed, maybe a few bloodys when I next pin u down for an IRL debrief? Ali: Oh wait, a bitch can't...I'll make it a Virgin Mary...WHEY! Tommy: True and I know he ain't got a bitch muted 'cause I aint rn either 👀 & my specs are on when I'm scrolling Tommy: I see what I see Tommy: 😞 Tommy: Fuck it lets go dancing Tommy: bounce that bump while you still can Ali: 'Course not, gotta 'low the bitch to slide into dem dms on the reg, if for nothing else than the ego boost Ali: 😒 Ali: I need that, lets go lets go lets go, its been TIME since I got to go out and not take the bubs Ali: I'll have to see who can have 'em though... Ali: Can't be mum, really selling how responsible a parent I'm gonna be to 3 by throwing 2 at her and fucking off to partay Tommy: SAMSIES...not that I'm going out with 2 kids on the reg but y'know Tommy: we on it 💃 Tommy: Dial up their daddy Tommy: he'll step up while we step out I'm sure Ali: Sure, just the one, like #oosh! toosoonforbants? Ali: Can but try, I'll get back to you when he replies Ali: Ooh, what are we gonna wear Tommy: I've got my elf cossie if I can only squeeze in Tommy: you could pin a red letter on if you've got something that won't clash 🤔 own that guilt like a good catholic 📿 Ali: Ooh, festive AND appropriate for my situ, I like it. Tommy: A for advent sweeties 😘 Tommy: can you cut my hair though I looking like the grinch if he was a blonde blue eyed dreamboat Ali: And Awesome! And Ali! And Ass! 😎 Ali: Obvi, you never could rock the long hair look, remember that dark period in time 😂 Ali: Can I try something slightly new tho? 🤔 Tommy: why the feck not gotta at least look ready to mingle like Tommy: 💔😂 Ali: Dubo not gonna know what's hit it and ya mans gonna know what he missing when I'm done with you! Promise Tommy: I'll hold you to it Tommy: no pressure Tommy: oooh maybe we could go shopping 😀 Ali: You know I'm winning boys back like its my business Ali: well, boy singular but that's enough, right? #greedybisexual Ali: I am always down for killing time snapping up killer #lewks, lets do it man Tommy: yaaaaaaaaaaas Tommy: careful I might hold you to that too #tipsfrommybabysiskms Ali: baby be wise tho 💞 where u at i'll come get u Tommy: about a lot of things yeah 👍 nws I'll come at you I need the exercise #aintforgotyoucalledmeafattylike Ali: alright well, RUN FORREST RUN Tommy: 🏃

[ceslatoil]

Fiddleford in Fairyland, Part 2

The second half of my first @fiddleford-appreciation-month story is up! Read more under the cut!

           Fiddleford would later look back on his time in Faerie as one of the best research experiences of his career. For example, the library where the research team had set up their base was vast and plenty in books about the history and culture of Faerie, and Titania was more than happy to point out which books were more helpful than others.

           “Look at this,” said Fiddleford one morning when the Queen had stopped by to visit the team. He held up a large, leather-bound book that was embossed with ornate flowers on the cover. “I think I found something that might come in handy,” he continued, flipping through some of the pages as he spoke, “it’s some kind of journal written about a few hundred years ago, maybe it’ll show us something about the past we haven’t seen before—”

           “Oh, hell no!” Titania’s face was a mixture of amusement and horror as she laid eyes upon the book. “That’s my diary from when I was a dorky teenager,” the Queen explained, her face flushed as she tried to take the book from Fiddleford.

           “Oh? Well that’s even better,” Fiddleford chuckled, an impish grin painted across his face as he held the book out of her reach, “I cain’t recall if I’ve ever read a first hand account about the awkward teenage years of a Queen before!”

           “Give me that!”

           “Never!”

           Aside from some lighthearted teasing here and there, however, the Queen remained and invaluable ally to the research team’s mission. Though Titania was often busy in political briefings and in her office performing the difficult duties of running a country, she would make time to visit Fiddleford and the others, even going so far as to consent to giving brief interviews about her life and responsibilities as the Queen of the Fairies. It had been she who had suggested Fiddleford interview other citizens beside herself, and so, with either Corduroy or Ramirez in tow, Fiddleford traveled the countryside and began conducting interviews with the people of Faerie.

           What interesting people they were too—creatures that he had only ever seen in storybooks could be found in every crevice of this strange land. There were ogres who sang and danced in critically acclaimed musicals, leprechauns that baked cupcakes for a living, centaurs that bussed tables at bars run by dwarves; there was even a man who claimed to be the eighth-and-a-half president of the United States, who was now mayor of a small town just a few miles away from Eclipse Manor. Everyone seemed to have a story, and Fiddleford gladly collected his or her thoughts with the help of his team.

           At the end of every exciting day, Fiddleford and his team would return to Eclipse Manor, where they would eat a hearty, delicious dinner wit the Queen and her family, and would spend the rest of the evening playing games in the garden or watching movies in the Queen’s parlor.

           It was a fine, comfortable sort of life; Fidds couldn’t remember a time when he had felt more at ease since he and Stanford had founded the Institute thirty odd years ago. Fiddleford jokingly wrote to his husband one day that might just try to move him and the rest of the family to Faerie full time. He was in no hurry to rush back to the never ending bustle that came from running an Institute of the Odd when things were so relaxing in this magic kingdom.

           Things changed, as they inevitably do, when another Fiddleford McGucket had shown up at Eclipse Manor’s gates one sunny afternoon.

           Fiddleford woke up to find six tawny kittens crawling over his stomach. He could see Prince Daya standing by his armchair, giggling as he placed a seventh kitten on the old man’s belly.

           “Kitty invasion,” Daya squeaked as he bent down to pet the mama cat, a lovely Abyssinian who luxuriated at the attention.

           “Oh no,” said Fiddleford in mock-horror. Scooping up the kittens into his arms, he gave each of them a quick kiss on top of their little heads. “What am I going to do with all these kittens? How could this have happened?”

           “You sleepin’!”

           “Yes I was,” said Fiddleford, yawning as he gently placed the kittens on the ground next to their mama. “Musta dozed off while I was reading. Any idea where the rest of my team went, little guy?”

           Daya shrugged. Regardless, Fiddleford patted him on the head and gazed at the clock on the mantle. It read two in the afternoon—golden sunshine was pouring into the windows of the library. It was silly to spend the day cooped up inside, thought Fiddleford, he would take his research with him into the garden this afternoon. Daya toddled after him as he made his exit from the stuffy library into the main hall.

           Fiddleford was just passing by Titania’s office when suddenly, he heard several voices crying out at once. He looked up and found Ramirez, Corduroy, and all four of Titania’s fairy friends were barreling down the corridor towards him, each with looks of complete terror etched upon their faces. Before he could even begin to ask what the matter was, all six of them crashed into him, forcing him to fall against the heavy oak door into Titania’s office. Fiddleford landed with a thud on the soft carpet of Titania’s office, the back of his head throbbing as he tried to make sense of what just happened.

           “What are you doing,” hissed Titania, who was sitting at her desk with a stack of papers laid out before her. “Don’t barge in here like stampeding rhinos, what if I was seeing somebody important? Get out, I have work to do!”

           All at once, the intruders all began talking fast and loud, so much so that it was impossible to make out a word that was being said. Fiddleford lay there on the floor, saying nothing for lack of any explanation as to why he always seemed to end up in these sorts of predicaments.

           “Silence!”

           The group shut up. Titania rose to her feet and glared down at the intruders disdainfully. With a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose and said, “Peaseblossom, what is the meaning of this?”

           Peaseblossom cleared her throat and said, “Look out the window!”

           The Queen, annoyed and tired, turned to see what Peaseblossom was fussing about, and after peering out the great glass window of her office, let out a horrified gasp. Her hand shot to her mouth, muffling her screams.

           “What is it,” said Fiddleford, who was now scrambling out of the dog pile. His eyes widened in terror. Treading down the path towards the mansion were two old men, one who he instantly recognized as Stanford, wearing a tired old sweater and a contented smile as he held the hand of the other man, who was a complete stranger to Fiddleford. By the looks the Queen and her friends were giving him, however, he was able to make a guess who it might be.

           “That’s me?”

           “It is,” said Titania solemnly.

           “Oh, man, what are we gonna do?” cried Ramirez, who was clawing at his face in his anxiety, “If he finds Dr. McGucket we’re done for! I don’t wanna deal with the existential horror of vanishing forever!”

           “I do,” whispered Cobweb cheerfully.

           “What are they even doing here in the first place,” Titania asked, angrily turning to her servants for an explanation. “If I’m not mistaken, I sent you four out with a letter three weeks ago letting them know about an alternate Fiddleford staying here! Care to explain what exactly went wrong with that incredibly simple task?”

           “Um, well, about that…” said Peaseblossom, looking incredibly guilty.

           “It’s all her fault, not mine,” said Mustardseed, who nonetheless proudly clapped Peaseblossom on the back.

           “We ran into some… unpleasantness along the way,” Cobweb explained.

           “Peaseblossom got into a fight with all the gnomes and she broke their faces,” cried Moth excitedly, “because they stole the note and said you were mean for not marrying them!”

           “They ripped it up and called you—well, they called you something really inappropriate, and sexist, and I’m not going to let them say gross, chauvinist things about the queen,” said Peaseblossom, looking down at her feet in shame.

           “Aw, Sweet Pea,” said Titania, her expression thawing as she knelt down to give Peaseblossom a hug, “I appreciate that, I really do, but couldn’t you have just told McGucket the message in person?”

           “Well… I thought we did… sort of,” said Peaseblossom, looking even more embarrassed than ever.

           “We let Moth tell them,” said Cobweb bluntly.

           “What… what exactly did you tell them,” said Fiddleford, his heart drumming rapidly in his chest as his alternate self drew closer to the mansion. Eclipse Manor was a large place, but there was no way he could hide from his alternate self forever.

           “I thought I was pretty clear,” said Moth, shrugging. “I threw a big old rock through the window of his mansion and screamed ‘Don’t go near my house or you’ll die!’ Then I ran off before he could call the cops. Do you think I should have thrown a bigger rock?”

           “I honestly don’t know what we expected,” sighed Mustardseed.

           “Potatoes and Molasses, there ain’t no time to lose,” said Fiddleford, his knees bouncing together rapidly as he paced around the room. “We gotta get out of here before I meet myself—er, before me meets him—ah, before, oh, who gives a gosh dang right now, IF WE SEE OR TOUCH EACH OTHER, WE’RE ALL DONE FOR!”

           “Hey, hey, breathe,” said Titania, patting her friend on the back comfortingly, “no need for caps lock—we’ll stop the two of them from entering and calmly explain the situation.”

           “Or,” said Corduroy dryly, “We can just have your servants kidnap Dr. Pines and that’ll keep him distracted.”

           “Pardon?” said Titania, and both she and Fiddleford heard a screech out the window that sounded like an enraged feral cat. Mustardseed and Cobweb had snuck out of the office, unseen by the rest of the group during Fiddleford’s panic, and were now currently lobbing a very annoyed Stanford Pines back and forth in midair like an oversized volleyball above an infuriated McGucket. The old hillbilly spat, cursed and at one point began to angrily hambone at the two fairies, demanding they put his fiancé down at once, but to no avail.

           “Well… I suppose that’ll work,” said Fiddleford, who knew they had to keep moving if they wanted to make their escape. He turned to Ramirez and Corduroy, and businesslike, he said, “get the research team into the library at once—we have a lot of data to take with us and we’ll need to move quickly.”

           The security officers nodded, both bolting out of the room to catch the others once he had finished speaking. Fiddleford sighed; he wished he didn’t spend most of his last day in Faerie taking a nap. There still felt like so much he could do in this strange, marvelous land, it was a pity to say goodbye so soon.

           “Are you really going to leave already,” said Daya, who pouted at the old man in disappointment.

           “I hate to leave early, little guy, but it ain’t safe for me to be here anymore,” said Fiddleford, once again patting the boy on the head.

           “We’ll see each other again,” reassured Titania, who took Fiddleford by the hand as they headed towards the library. “We’ll just have to figure out a way to coordinate these little visits first.”

             There was a mad rush trying to get all of the research that the team had collected into transportable boxes and bags; eventually, Titania ended up enchanting a sturdy, burlap bag to hold everything in one place so the team could get moving at once. Once everything was secure and in its place, Titania waved her wand and teleported the group back to the entrance of the ruins, the portal that lead out of Faerie and back to their own home.

           “We were going to have a party for your going away,” said Titania, giving Fiddleford a firm hug as the team began to disappear one-by-one through the gateway, “But I suppose we’ll just save that for the next time you visit. Here. I wanted to give you this before you left.”

           She reached into her purse and pulled out a framed picture, the exact copy of the photo Titania kept in the library of Alternate Fiddleford’s family.

           “Tanya, you are a treasure,” said Fiddleford, pulling the Queen into yet another bear hug. As he pulled away, he smiled and pulled out an envelope from his sweater pocket.

“Now, before I go,” said Fiddleford, handing the envelop to the Queen, “Do you mind passing something along for me?”

           “Of course,” said Titania with that signature, warm smile of hers.

           “Make sure my alternate self gets it,” said Fiddleford, who felt a wave of melancholy crash over him as he turned to face the dark entrance back to his own world.

           “I shall. Have a safe journey home, Fidds. I’ll miss you.”

           “Likewise, your Majesty.”

           With that, Fiddleford stepped through the doorway and with great reluctance, left the world of Faerie behind.

             Titania arrived back at Eclipse Manor as soon as Fiddleford and his team had left, and, after getting her girls to release Ford and calming down a very angry McGucket, she explained all about the other Fiddleford’s visit, and apologized profusely for not telling them earlier.

           “This could have been a serious disaster,” said Ford gravely. He remembered hearing the horrific account of the imploded dimension during his own stay at the Institute. To think such a chilling fate could befall his own Fiddleford was too awful to even imagine. “I’m glad you stopped us when you did.”

           “What a bad time to invite ya to the engagement party next weekend,” said McGucket; he didn’t quite understand the weight of what had almost happened, but was relieved that everything had sorted itself out.

           “When he left,” said Titania, presenting the envelope to the couple with a wave of her wand, “He said he wanted you to have this.”

           Nervously, Fiddleford reached out and took the envelope, ripping it open to find a letter addressed to him:

           Dear, Well, Myself,

           This is all probably very confusing, but I come from a different timeline where I run an Institute with my Stanford. I’ve seen lots of things in my day since we managed to get that conflabbing portal under control; some of it wonderful, and some of it as terrifying as that first day we faced the Gremoblin when we were younger. What I want to tell you most though is this: you’re doing fine. You’ve got some darn wonderful people in your life, and they seem awful glad to have you in theirs.

Be sure to keep Stanford in line—mine’s pushing seventy and he’s still as reckless as ever. Whatever would they do without us?

Wishing You Well,

F.H. McGucket

He held the letter for a long time after he read it, and, after being asked by both the Queen and Ford if he was feeling alright, McGucket tucked the letter into his pocket, where he would keep it for the rest of his life.

             In another dimension, far away, Fiddleford McGucket settled back into his own bed. No matter how fabulous and interesting Faerie had been, thought Fiddleford as he drifted off to sleep, there was nothing quite like the comfort of your own bed after a long time away from home.

[auburnfamilynews]

Sal Cannella snatches one away from Bama!

     War Eagle everybody! It’s time now for the Acid Reign Report on an epic 48-45 win over the Alabama Crimson Tide. A day later, I still can’t believe the Tigers pulled this win off. A look at the stat sheets boggles the mind. Alabama scored 5 offensive touchdowns to Auburn’s 3. Alabama had 161 more yards of offense than Auburn did, and Auburn allowed a kick return touchdown for good measure. If you had told me that Alabama was going to have 515 yards of offense and score 45 points, I would have envisioned an Alabama blowout win.

     Midway through the second quarter, the game was tied at 10-10 on a long field goal by Anders Carlson. The game looked for all the world like it was going to be one of those tense, low-scoring Iron Bowls. Then, an explosion of points occurred before halftime. First, Alabama quarterback Mac Jones threw possibly his only bad pass of the day. The pass sailed, and was picked off by Smoke Monday, who took it to the end zone. The Auburn lead did not last long. Bama’s Jaylen Waddle ran the ensuing kickoff back through the heart of the Auburn coverage without being touched. On Auburn’s second play, JaTarvious Whitlow fumbled the ball back to Alabama in Auburn territory.

     Alabama cashed the lone Auburn turnover of the day quickly, hitting a perfectly thrown fade route to DeVonta Smith to the Auburn 4 yard line. Mac Jones, falling backwards under intense pressure found Henry Ruggs in the back of the end zone. In just a few plays, Auburn was trailing Alabama 24-17. Auburn answered, with 3 incredible catches in a row. First, Seth Williams made a one-handed grab of a 37 yard fade pass. Then Will Hastings came out of nowhere to snag an attempted throw-away for another first down. Then quarterback Bo Nix lofted a pass to the end zone that looked for all the world to be overthrown and out of bounds. Sal Cannella leaped and snagged the pass, and got both feet down in bounds for the tying touchdown.

     Jaylen Waddle burned Auburn quickly on the next series. Jones found Waddle on a simple curl route, and Waddle outran the whole Auburn secondary for a 58 yard touchdown. Auburn had the ball last in the half, hoping to move it at least for a field goal, but the Tigers were out of timeouts. A screen pass to JaTarvious Whitlow got a first down at the Alabama 34, but the clock seemed to expire while Alabama was wrestling Whitlow to the ground. Video replay showed that Whitlow was down with 1 second left.

     I’ve seen much arguing about the officials on this one, but to my view I think they got it right. The real issue was whether Auburn would be able to snap the ball and get a field goal attempt off, before the clock expired. While the review was going on, Alabama players went to the locker room, while Auburn head coach Gus Malzahn sent the field goal unit out, and got them lined up. Most descriptions of the play don’t mention this, but Alabama had to call timeout in order to get their field goal block unit out there. It is in the official box score play-by-play, “Timeout Alabama, clock 00:01.” So, instead of the clock starting again at the ready-to-play signal, the rule is that after a timeout the clock does not start till the ball is snapped. Daniel Carlson was true on the 52 yard attempt, and Alabama led 31-27 at the half.

     Auburn began the second half holding Alabama to a rare 3 and out, and got good field position out of the punt. The Tigers had to settle for a field goal on that possession, which cut the Alabama lead to 31-30. Alabama then threatened to take control of the game, driving the ball relentlessly down the field to a first and goal at the Auburn 9. From there, a weird day turned even more bizarre.

     A total of 6 plays were run inside the Auburn 10, and it looked for all the world that Alabama was about to go up by 8 points. An incomplete 3rd down pass had the look of a heroic Auburn stop, but a roughing the passer flag gave Alabama a first down. Auburn stoned an Alabama handoff, but then a pass interference flag gave Alabama yet another first down at the 2 yard line. On 1st down, Mac Jones dropped to pass, but had to throw it early towards the receiver. The ball hit Alabama receiver Najee Harris in the back, and bounced right to surprised Auburn linebacker Zakoby McClain, who set sail the other way. A big escort of Auburn players walled off any Alabama pursuit. McClain scored, 100 yards later. That was really a critical play, as instead of an 8 point Bama lead, Auburn was up by 6, 37-31.

     The interception did not appear to faze Alabama quarterback Mac Jones. He picked a tired Auburn secondary apart, making a great throw to Jaylen Waddle on a crossing pattern, and Alabama was back in front, 38-37. That was Waddle’s 3rd touchdown of the day. I sure hope Waddle decides to declare for the NFL. Auburn did not have anyone who could catch Waddle in the open field.

     The teams traded punts, then JaTarvious Whitlow had the biggest run of the day, 36 yards, to set up a possible touchdown. A sideline scuffle and personal foul flag on Auburn ended that hope, but the Tigers did get into position with a screen pass to Eli Stove, to bring in the field goal unit once again. And again, Anders Carlson was true, nailing his 4th field goal of the day. Tigers had the lead again, 40-38 as the 3rd quarter came to a close.

     On the ensuing possession, Auburn again could not stop Alabama. The Tide capped the drive with a jump ball pass to Jaylen Waddle, for his 4th touchdown of the day. Alabama led, 44-40, and appeared to be lining up to go for 2. A borderline false-start penalty backed them up, and they settled for the extra point to take a 45-40 lead, with 13:44 left in the game.

     It was do or die time for the Auburn offense, and the Tigers imposed their will. Bo Nix carried twice for 27 yards, drew a roughing the passer flag, and completed all of his passes while JaTarvious Whitlow pounded into the Alabama defense and fought for yards time and time again. Finally, it was 3rd and 5 at the Alabama 11, and Auburn went with the wildcat. The Tigers had really become predictable with that late in the season, always running off tackle to the right. Alabama dutifully shifted over. Instead, the call was a speed sweep, again to the right, but recipient Shaun Shivers had the vision to cut the ball up, and run through an Alabama defender for the touchdown. Auburn was back ahead, and there was an Alabama defender trying to find his helmet that had been knocked off in the collision. The Tigers elected to go for a 2 point conversion. Bo Nix rolled right, and completed a short pass to Shedrick Jackson, who had posted up perfectly just beyond the goal line. Auburn was up 48-45.

     Alabama got the ball back with over 8 minutes left, and it seemed that they had plenty of time. Take their time, Alabama certainly did, with a mostly ground and pound approach. Alabama was hindered by penalties on the drive, false-starting 3 times. Alabama moved to 1st and goal at the Auburn 9 yard line, then false-started again. This made it difficult on the Tide. A quarterback draw got Alabama back to the 10, then on 3rd down Alabama wanted a throw to the end zone. Auburn’s Derrick Brown wasn’t having it. He batted the pass back to Matt Jones, who tried to scramble forward, but Brown pulled him down at the 12. In came the Alabama field goal unit to tie the game up with 30 yard field goal attempt. Incredibly, the kick from Joseph Bulovas hit the left upright, and bounced away, no good!

     Auburn took over at the 20 by rule. Alabama had used up over 6 minutes on their drive, and had come up empty. Auburn ran JaTarvious Whitlow 3 times for 6 yards, eating up all of Alabama’s timeouts. Then another incredible sequence happened.

     I expected Auburn to run as much of the game clock as possible, then punt it back to Alabama with maybe a minute left in the game. Instead, Auburn lined up quickly, with the offense still out there on 4th and 4. “Has Malzahn lost his mind?” I thought. Auburn looked like they wanted to quick snap it, while the Alabama return team was coming out. The official held the snap up, because Auburn had subbed a player in, and allowed Alabama to substitute. Mass confusion reigned, as the Tide coaches realized that the player Auburn had subbed in was punter Arryn Siposs, and Siposs was lined up as a wide receiver. Alabama then tried to pull the return team back off, and get the defense back out there. Unfortunately, way deep the return man Jaylen Waddle did not get the signal in time. Alabama lined up with 12 defenders out there, and the officials threw the flag. The penalty gave Auburn a first down, and from there, Bo Nix was able to take a knee twice, and run the clock out.

     Alabama head coach Nick Saban complained about that 4th down call being unfair in his post-game press conference, but it was well within the rules. If the offense substitutes, the officials will hold the snap up and allow the defense to substitute, also. However, they won’t allow the defense to run players out there, run them back to the sideline and send more players out. A team basically has to be prompt with the substitutions, and can’t just waste time with indecision. You can’t just shuffle endlessly, while breaking down the formation the offense has lined up in.

Unit grades after the jump!

Defensive Line: C+. This was the first game of the year where I can really say that Auburn’s defensive line was matched. Aside from Derrick Brown, no one else up front recorded a stat in the backfield, except for 1 roughing the passer penalty. Brown had 7 total tackles, including 3.5 for a loss, and 1 quarterback hurry. The line contributed 16 total tackles. This was the best offensive line Auburn has seen all year, and the Tide bunch did a really good job.

Linebackers: B+. Auburn linebackers filled holes pretty well, but lost outside contain from time to time, especially early. Zakoby McClain was all over the field, leading all tacklers with 11 total. He also returned an interception 100 yards for a score. I would not have believed any linebacker could return one 100 yards on Alabama, not with all the speed the Tide has on offense. KJ Britt and Owen Papoe were solid, as well. The linebackers were credited with 24 tackles.

Secondary: B-. This group tackled well, but drew several flags and had big trouble with Alabama speed. Smoke Monday had the only sack of the day for Auburn, and Smoke returned an interception for a touchdown. The Auburn secondary had 36 tackles.

Punting: A+. Arryn Siposs had a light day, with only a couple of punts. His decoy work on Auburn’s last 4th down might have been the play of the day. Siposs had punts 52 and 46 yards, and did not allow the ever dangerous Jaylen Waddle to return one. Bo Nix also had a 42-yard quick-kick, which unfortunately rolled in for a touchback. However, that was better than letting Waddle have any chance at it.

Punt Returns: A-. Alabama punted 3 times, and Ty Perine had a good 45-yard average. Christian Tutt was able to field 2 of those for 47 important yards. Tutt did fumble at the end of one return, but fortunately it rolled out of bounds and Auburn kept possession.

Kick Returns: B. This was a tough area to grade. Auburn’s yard per return average was only 16.0 yards, but 2 of the 3 returns were on high sky-kicks. Both teams went to this kicking strategy, and Alabama did pretty well at limiting Auburn’s opportunities and field position, for the most part. I give Auburn a B for not having any muffs.

Place Kicking: B+. I suppose I should count off for the kick return touchdown. I was expecting Anders Carlson to mortar-launch all of the kickoffs out of the end zone, and that didn’t happen. I don’t know if that was just due to an off-day, or if it was by design. I suspect the latter. After the touchdown return, Carlson did exclusively sky kicks, and Auburn did not execute those quite as well as Alabama did. If this grade was just on the field goal unit, the grade would be an A+. Daniel Carlson was perfect on 4 attempts, and Auburn ended up winning by 3 points.

Offensive Line: A. Auburn actually got some push in the middle at times, and pass protected pretty well. The line allowed no sacks, had no flags, and only 4 tackles for a loss. The line paved the way for 181 rushing yards, and a 5.3 yards per carry average.

Running Backs: B-. JaTarvious Whitlow led the way for Auburn with 114 rushing yards, but he also lost a fumble and dropped a pass. Shaun Shivers had the run of the day, scoring a touchdown after bashing an Alabama player’s helmet off. I’ve also got to give H-back Spencer Nigh a mention. He was out there a good bit, and was very helpful against Alabama’s multiple looks and blitzes.

Receivers: A. This was probably the best secondary Auburn has faced this year, yet Auburn receivers made plays. Eli Stove got key tough yards on screens. Seth Williams had 66 receiving yards and made a couple of great catches. Shedrick Jackson executed on the 2-point conversion reception. The catch of the day had to be Sal Cannella’s touchdown. Just incredible!

Quarterback: B-. This wasn’t a great day for Nix, but on the other hand he didn’t cost Auburn with turnovers. Timely running moved the chains and produced points. I have to give credit to Nix for trusting his receivers on some of those throws, and placing it where Alabama couldn’t get the ball.

     Congratulations to the Auburn team on a historic Iron Bowl win over Alabama! And also to those fans who attended and made Alabama miserable with the wall of noise. The fans really hampered Alabama communication, and were possibly the difference in the game.

     For Auburn, it is a week to savor this win, and wait for Bowl Selection time next weekend. My gut says that Auburn will likely get a Citrus or Outback bid, but we will see. There will be a good many 1 or 2 loss teams that don’t make the playoff, most likely. However, the SEC has gotten teams into the New Year’s Six with 3 or 4 losses before. I’m thinking of Ole Miss in 2014 (Peach) and 2015 (Sugar), and Auburn got into the Sugar Bowl in 2016 with 4 losses. Last season, Georgia made the Sugar Bowl with 2 losses, and both Florida and LSU got New Years Six bids (Peach and Fiesta) with 3 losses.

The post Auburn Tops the Tide! (Grading Auburn’s 48-45 win over Alabama.) appeared first on Track 'Em Tigers, Auburn's oldest and most read independent blog.

from Track 'Em Tigers, Auburn's oldest and most read independent blog http://trackemtigers.com/auburn-tops-the-tide-grading-auburns-48-45-win-over-alabama/

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Kucherov Suspended One Game, Kadri Suspension Looming, Caps/Preds/Avs Win In OT (Apr 14)

Nikita Kucherov has been suspended one game for his hit on Markus Nutivaara on Friday. Fair or not, that’s about what I thought he would receive.

Although Art Ross Trophy winner Kucherov was the top-ranked player in playoff pools, he has been held without a point in two games so far and will still be scoreless in the playoffs after Game 3 because of his suspension. Steven Stamkos and Brayden Point, who were projected to go second and third, have also been held without a point in the first two games (see our Dobber Hockey Experts Panel picks for more). In addition, Kucherov has been held to just two goals in his last 14 playoff games. He’s been getting it done and then some in the regular season, but not so much in the playoffs when the intensity is turned up several notches.

So if the Lightning are eliminated in the first round, does that mean the folks that didn’t pick any Lightning players will win their playoff pools? It probably isn’t that simple, but it goes to show that playoff pools aren’t as easy to predict as you might think and sometimes a counterintuitive strategy (although more risky) wins in the end. The silver lining is that if the Bolts come back and win this series, you’ll probably get the same four or five games of production out of them than you thought you would receive from them in the first round anyway.

It's funny how in two short games that the narrative on the Lightning has shifted from being the model franchise to the ultimate choke team. A win in Game 3 would go a long way toward righting the ship. A loss, well…

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Not to worry, Connor McDavid owners. It sounds like he won’t need surgery for a small PCL ligament tear. The injury from the final game of the season looked a lot worse.

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On to Saturday’s game action:

Carolina/Washington

Noted goal scorer Brooks Orpik scored 1:48 into overtime to give the Capitals a 4-3 win in Game 2 and a 2-0 series lead heading back to Carolina. Alex Ovechkin, Nicklas Backstrom, T.J. Oshie, and Evgeny Kuznetsov each recorded two points for the Capitals. Ovechkin also dished seven hits (not sure if any playoff pools out there count hits).

Man, was Rod Brind’Amour ever pissed after Micheal Ferland was ejected after his attempted check to the head of Nic Dowd. Ferland recklessly throwing hits in playoff games is nothing new, but my initial thought was two-minute penalty. Like any of these types of hits, it’s subject to debate, though.  

Ferland gets thrown out of the game for a check to the head pic.twitter.com/gSAHQkdoV7

— Pete Blackburn (@PeteBlackburn) April 13, 2019

Fortunately for the Hurricanes, the Capitals weren’t able to score on the ensuing five-minute power play. Fortunately for the Capitals, Dowd was able to return to the game. I highly doubt Ferland is suspended for this hit.

Dallas/Nashville

Aside from fans of the Stars and Predators, this series might be considered by many to be the least interesting of the bunch. So if we call it the country and western series, would that make it more interesting? Such deep hockey commentary, I know.

Craig Smith scored exactly five minutes into overtime to give the Predators a 2-1 win over the Stars, evening the series at 1-1 heading back to Dallas for Game 3. Smith also led the Predators with six shots on goal in this game.

In spite of the loss, Ben Bishop was stellar, stopping 40 of 42 shots to keep the Stars in this game. With his 1.92 GAA and .946 SV% in two playoff games, Bishop is carrying a strong regular season into the playoffs, where he has been the Stars’ best player so far. Bishop finished the regular season with a 1.98 GAA and .934 SV% and seven shutouts, which are numbers that could result in a Vezina Trophy nomination.

Wayne Simmonds left in the first period after blocking a shot. He wasn’t having a great season by his standards before his trade to Nashville (27 points and a minus-20 in 62 games), but his numbers have taken a further nosedive with the Predators (3 points in 17 games). Even if you figured that the Preds would make a deep playoff run, Simmonds probably isn’t someone you should have targeted in your playoff pool. Some team will probably overpay for the 30-year-old’s services this offseason. Don’t be the one who adopts a similar strategy in your fantasy league, as the power forward’s point totals have been on the decline for the past three seasons.

Mattias Janmark left in the second period after crashing awkwardly into the boards, but he was able to return to the game.

Toronto/Boston

The new divisional format was designed to build rivalries, and this doesn’t seem any more apparent than with these two teams. In other words, they don’t like each other. Fans of other divisional foes (and even some outside the division) might be pulling for the team they dislike less as opposed to the team they like more in this series. If these fans can’t figure out which team that would be, they’d simply hope that these two teams beat the crap out of each other. Well, these two teams might already be headed down that path.

Nazem Kadri has been offered an in-person hearing for his crosscheck to the face of Jake DeBrusk, which means that the league can suspend him for more than five games. Because he’s a repeat offender, Kadri’s going to sit multiple games for sure. That’s even with any perceived advantages that Toronto receives from the NHL office and even with the knee-on-knee collision with DeBrusk earlier in the game likely motivating the hit. I realize hockey is a sport about getting payback when someone on the other team crosses the line, but that reasoning isn’t going to carry weight here. Kadri should know better.  

I’d imagine this lands Kadri a suspension pic.twitter.com/LXi9ZovoS5

— Pete Blackburn (@PeteBlackburn) April 14, 2019

Kadri’s game misconduct in the third period gave the Bruins a five-minute power play, where they were able to ice the game with an insurance goal en route to a 4-1 victory and a tie in the series heading back to Toronto.

Torey Krug left this game in the second period after taking a hit from Jake Muzzin. Charlie McAvoy totaled nearly 26 minutes in this game, so expect the Bruins to lean heavily on the 21-year-old d-man should Krug miss any time. Connor Clifton, another d-man, also didn’t finish the game for the Bruins.

Auston Matthews is receiving a lot of criticism from Leafs’ fans regarding his playoff performance. Dating back to last season’s series with the Bruins, Matthews has just two points and a minus-5 in his last nine playoff games. He may be struggling to handle the more physical play of the playoffs, or he simply doesn’t match up well against the Bruins. Matthews has the size (6-3, 223 lb.), but not everyone with size has the desire to play a physical style. With Kadri out of the lineup for the foreseeable future, the Leafs will need to lean even more heavily on him.

Colorado/Calgary

By far the biggest question regarding the Flames entering the playoffs was their goaltending. Mike Smith had been downright awful during significant stretches of the season, so would he be able to hold up during the playoffs? Why didn’t the Flames give David Rittich a go instead?

Smith has found his game and then some. Since he doesn’t fit the definition of a stud goalie, he fits the definition of a hot goalie, which can just as well get the job done in the playoffs if he can be hot for long enough. Unfortunately, Smith couldn’t hold off the Avalanche for this entire game. The Avs looked like the better team in Game 2 regardless of the outcome. Regardless, they won in overtime on Nathan MacKinnon’s first goal of the playoffs.

Even though Smith has a brief playoff history for a goalie of his service time, his career playoff numbers are outstanding (11-8, 1.79 GAA, .947 SV% entering Game 2). Maybe that could have counted for something in Bill Peters’ decision to start him in Game 1? The numbers aren’t recent, though, as his last playoff experience was in 2011-12 when he led the Coyotes to the conference final (his playoff numbers are mainly from that season). It’s more likely that Smith’s much-improved play swayed the decision (9-5-1, 2.08 GAA, .916 SV% since February 14).

By the way, MacKinnon fired seven shots on goal in logging over 26 minutes, the most of any Avalanche forward. Not known for his offensive prowess, Erik Johnson also fired seven shots on goal.

After a Game 1 where they were firing on all cylinders, the Flames looked like a strong bet to head to Denver with a 2-0 series lead. Regardless, this series is also tied at 1 and could be more interesting than we first thought. One reason is that Philipp Grubauer has also been a hot goalie.  

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By the way, I’ll mention that you can read our Dobber Hockey articles over on Fantrax as well. Go to their Fantasy Columns section.

For more fantasy hockey information, or to reach out to me directly, you can follow me on Twitter @Ian_Gooding.

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-kucherov-suspended-one-game-kadri-suspension-looming-capspredsavs-win-in-ot-apr-14/