#bring broadcast twice a week

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

During Lynda Bellingham’s run as the Inspector,

the programme turned more into a soap opera, even being broadcast twice a week.

[screwitbaby]

cybergirl

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

2.0

summary: you’re a cam girl and you have more power over hamzah’s horny ass than you can even comprehend.

contains: smut with plot ofc

w/c: 2.7k-ish

a/n: yall convinced me. can i even call this a oneshot anymore? anyway enjoy <3

~

The clock was ticking. Hamzah's eyes couldn't stay in one place. He knew he was obsessed with you—he couldn't even jerk off to random porn anymore, only you could keep him hard—but the extent of his infatuation was starting to take a toll on his daily life. Recording gaming videos and podcasts with Martin felt like such a chore when all he could think about was your plush thighs wrapped around his head or your face pressed into his pillows, ass up. 

It was like a parasite had taken over and he was merely a host body for something sinister that was controlling his every move. He wasn't even sure if he hated it. It was one of the only things bringing him unadulterated joy as of recent. His wallet certainly hated him for it, though.

His laptop was already on and set in place. You were about to start your weekly scheduled live broadcast and he was sat in bed, waiting obediently for your arrival. The thought of creepy, old retirees with beer guts and wives also waiting for you made his skin crawl. His brain conjured up torturous scenes of you on call with them, talking to them the same way you spoke to him. Charming them with your promising words and perfect tits. No, he was sure he was special. Right?

He slapped his cheeks lightly, trying to rid the thoughts from poisoning his mind. It didn't matter. He knew what he was getting into the moment he paid for that first private meeting. He just had to suck it up and have you in any way he could.

Your panties were laid out next to him, almost tricking him into believing you were there in the room with him at one point or another. When he came home from the studio a week ago and saw a package with cursive writing and glittery gift wrap sitting at his doorstep, he was tempted to banish Martin from the building as soon as he'd welcomed him. When Martin then asked him what was in the box as he was taking it up to his room, he froze. His lies about it being an eBay order were almost as easy to see as the half-chub rising beneath his sweatpants. Luckily, Mandy called her boyfriend within the hour and he left soon thereafter without bothering to question his best friend's strange behavior.

It was pathetic, the way he locked the door to his room and shut his blinds just to open a parcel. He felt like he was living with his family again, trying to minimize any possible chances that they'd walk in on him with his dick in his hand. But he was completely alone then, and as he carefully tore the wrapping to preserve your penmanship of his name on the shipping label, his heart was beating out of his chest. Swathed in pink tissue paper lay his only worldly evidence that you were real, not just a couple of pixels on his screen.

Your lilac, lacy, worn panties.

For the next few days, Hamzah didn't leave home. He sniffed, he rubbed, he moaned and groaned. And he was loud. Any sense of shame left him as soon as he came the first time. He was sure he'd pass out from the pleasure at some point, but it was like each climax recharged him with the power to go twice as hard. It took a while for him to get himself together. It took no time at all for him to tune in to your show.

So, here he was, anxiously staring at the chat room full of digital degenerates and convincing himself he wasn't cut from the same cloth. He was different. He respected you. He liked you for more than just your perfect tits, peachy ass, lustrous hair, smooth skin, wet pu—

Then, the camera turned on. The chat started going at a hundred miles per hour. The donations began to flow in. And all you had done was smile.

"Hi, everybody," you giggled, eyes scanning the screen as you waved. "Oh, wow! Thank you for all the donations! So eager for me."

Hamzah's heart twinged. He didn't want to be reminded that he wasn't the only one. He made a donation of his own as you began reading them out.

"Thank you for the hundred dollars, SuperSpreader77!" you gasped as the notification sounded. You placed your hand on your chest, drawing Hamzah's eyes to the blood-red, satin brassiere that adorned it. "I'll be sure to make it up to you."

You winked and bit your lip. Hamzah swore he could've melted right there. The damp spot on the front of his boxers stuck out sorely, his cock aching for a release that would certainly make him see stars.

"I missed you all so much." You pouted.

And just like that, his elation was cut short by your acknowledgment of the others.

The live lasted near an hour as you touched yourself and stared into the camera and teased and did all the right things to get Hamzah wrapped even tighter around your finger. Knowing he was there after his donation made you slightly more daring than usual. You spanked yourself with a frilly paddle until your ass was stinging and bruised—a little taste of what was to come. You weren't lying about making it up to him later.

By the end, Hamzah was sure his balls were really going to turn blue. He did touch himself—how could he not?—but he knew nothing would be better than to finish with you, one on one. So he edged closer and closer to the point of no return, denying himself of his orgasm as he rutted into his fist, wishing it was your mouth or your cunt. He watched with impressive self control as you came all over your own fingers, splayed across your mattress like a priceless painting that could only be rightfully witnessed in a museum.

You ended the live by blowing a kiss and Hamzah rushed to open the Zoom app. This time, you joined within a few minutes, still topless but with your thong back on. Hamzah wasn't sure if he was sad to see you covered up or more excited that he'd get to see it get pulled off again.

"Hi, angel," you greeted. Your eyes twinkled, face flushed and lips bitten red from your previous escapade. "I missed you the most."

Hamzah groaned like the words physically wounded him.

"You're driving me insane," he said.

His hand traveled down to his navel, but before he could grab himself, you spoke.

"Ah, ah," you tutted, stopping him in his tracks. "Did you get my little gift?"

"Yes." He nodded keenly, grasping the lace from beside him and running it down his torso until he draped it over his throbbing cock.

"Do I even want to know what you've done with it?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

"The things I wish I could do to you," Hamzah answered honestly.

He pinched the lace between his fingers and ghosted the cloth across himself, sharply inhaling at the sensation. You bit your lip and Hamzah felt himself twitch. With the way you had soaked through your thong, you wondered if he'd want this pair, too.

"Did you enjoy my show?" you asked despite knowing the answer. "Enjoy yourself?"

"I waited for you," Hamzah said. "I wanted you. Alone."

"Are you hurting? Aching for me?"

"I want you so bad. You have no idea."

"I don't?"

Hamzah shook his head.

"Show me. Show me how you used those panties."

He immediately obliged. He began by gripping his shaft, spreading the precum from his tip downward. He moved your panties to encircle his cock, dragging against his balls deliciously as he pumped himself. His head fell back, already so close that he could feel his heartbeat drumming in his ears. You watched him hungrily.

"Gonna cum already?" You licked your lips, leaving them glossy. "Let me hear you, angel."

A loud moan tumbled from his lips, a sense of abandon washing through him as he pleasured himself in front of you. You observed the way the vein in his neck popped similarly to the ones on his cock and imagined how they'd taste, how they'd feel against your tongue. You began touching yourself, swirling your fingers around your swollen clit.

"I-I can't hold—c-can I?" he stuttered out, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Do it, Hamzah. Ruin my panties."

You lay flat on your back, neck craned to watch the screen as his movements grew fervent. You tried to match his pace, tried to fuck your fingers into your pussy as he bucked his hips, tried to picture it was him inside of you. He spilled into his hand, shouting your name over and over until his voice grew scratchy and he had released every last drop all over himself and the fabric. He hadn't even opened his eyes before he was hard again. You were the only Viagra he'd ever need.

"Wanna see you," he panted, attempting in vain to catch his breath.

He ran his thumb over his tip and shivered. You leapt from bed to pull your thong off and tossed it towards the camera playfully. When you bent over your desk, his eyes widened. The marks on your ass were red and angry, slightly raised in the shape of the paddle. He didn't know he had it in him, but he genuinely growled.

"Fuck me..." He gripped himself tighter, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head from how sensitive he was.

You reached into one of the drawers and slowly pulled a toy out from the back. Hamzah was pleased to see the dildo was of similar size to him. You knew it would never compare to the real thing, but it'd have to do. You spat onto it, slapping it against your sore ass a couple times and jumping at the sting. Hamzah fell into a trance, unable to do anything but moan as he watched you run the head against your dripping folds before pressing in.

You gasped, keeling over the desk as your wetness enveloped the entirety of the silicone. The feeling of every inch stretching you had you clamping around it as your body adjusted to the intrusion. You drew it out until just the tip was still inside. Then, all at once, you drove it back in with a cry.

"Hamzah!" you whimpered, head lolling to the side. "I-I'm—"

"You're doing so good, baby." He wrapped your panties around the base of his cock, intensifying his satisfaction as the fabric cinched around him. "Fuck yourself. Hard."

His hoarse voice combined with the pleasure passing through you made your legs shake. You could barely even hold yourself up. Your chest pressed against the cold wood and your nipples grazed the surface, rendering you speechless. Hamzah watched as you flicked your wrist as fast as you could and the dildo disappeared into you. You were in the clouds, gripping the edge of the desk with your other hand until your knuckles turned white.

"Shit, s-so fuckin’ pretty," Hamzah groaned.

You couldn't even see straight anymore, but you knew him well enough to know he was closing in on his second orgasm of the night. The carnal sounds of the both of you reverberated through your rooms, a mess of moans and wet slapping. When you screwed your eyes shut tight enough, it was almost as if you were there together.

"Cum f'me, baby," Hamzah grunted out, "only me."

"Only you, angel," you whined, your mouth staying ajar as you felt your stomach clenching and your toes curling.

Broken moans toppled from your lips. Any words said were inaudible, a jumble of sweet nothings as the two of you came in unison. Your wrist was cramping and you could feel your arousal making a mess all over your legs, but you couldn't bare to stop your movements. Pure bliss coursed through your veins and Hamzah strained to watch the way your orgasm turned your body into a shaking heap atop your desk. He came so hard his vision blacked out for a moment and he huffed heavy breaths until his body was no longer tensed from head to toe.

You eventually released the dildo from your grasp and let it fall to the floor, tracing your fingers over your wetness then to your clit. Even a faint touch sent a shock through you. You giggled but it came out as a shaky sigh.

"God, baby," Hamzah murmured, unraveling your panties from his dick and sitting up to pull his laptop closer. "You okay?"

"Hmm," you hummed in your state of euphoria. You attempted to stand straight but to no avail, gripping the sides of the desk as you nearly toppled over with another giggle. "'M fine."

"Fuck," Hamzah laughed quietly, feeling the effects of his own exhaustion. "That good?"

"Mhm," you moaned, nodding.

When you turned, you wobbled on your feet for a couple steps before falling to your knees in front of the bed. You brought your laptop to the edge and smiled, wiping a tear from your eye.

"So good."

Hamzah grinned, leaning against the wall as his breathing slowly returned to a normal pace. He was sticky and slightly sore, but he couldn't even begin to imagine what you were feeling in that moment.

"How do you do this for work?" he said, bemused. "I'm destroyed."

He reached up to run his fingers through his curls, but decided against it once he felt the moisture coated between them.

"I was thinking of you during the live."

You crossed your arms on the bed, resting your cheek on your forearm as you stared at his figure through the screen. He opened his mouth and closed it a couple times, failing to find his words. You giggled again, completely spent.

"Why are you so far?"

He knew there was no real answer to his question, but he couldn't help but wonder out loud. How was it that the girl of his dreams was so out of his reach? Did he do something in a past life to deserve this fate? The longer he thought about it, the worse he felt.

"Maybe it's for the best," you offered, eyes closed. "Maybe you'd get sick of me IRL."

He contemplated the sentiment for a moment. No, there's no way. He could never get sick of your sweet voice; surely it'd be impossible.

"First of all, 'IRL'? Really?" he teased. "And who knows. Maybe I could fly you out."

"Don't be silly," you yawned, sitting back on your haunches to stretch.

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I already paid for your panties. What makes you think I wouldn't pay for the ticket to get the rest of you here?"

"Ridiculous."

You just couldn't make sense of it. A boy flying you out while knowing close to nothing about you. Sure, you made each other feel good, but there's a big difference between seeing someone for an hour or two weekly and seeing them everyday with no where else to go. Such an absolute scared you. Besides, a girl like you would never dare to have such big dreams of a fairytale ending.

"My offer still stands." Hamzah crossed his arms.

"What is it with you and your offers?"

"Never hurt before."

He grabbed the panties from beside him and held it up to the camera like it was evidence of his claim. The two of you laughed at the white stains that now adorned it.

"You're disgusting."

"You love it."

You shook your head, not even refuting his words. You couldn't ignore the jolt that surged through your heart.

"Really, you should consider it," he said with a shrug.

"No promises," you said. "Goodnight, angel."

You subsequently signed off, leaving Hamzah with a longing in his chest that kept him up that night and invaded his dreams when he managed to drift off in the early hours of the morning.

~

a/n: if u ask for part 3 i may just scream. idk i kinda like having them yearn for each other. thoughts? feelings? concerns? hate? leave it in the replies!

[blackbird5154]

𖤐 Encyclopedia of Terzo 𖤐

I've been thinking a lot about how the personality of Papa III was created. Tobias set the basic framework, the archetype, the cliché from which he drew. But the real implementation of Papa was on stage, where his image developed through improvisation. Some things were conceived on purpose, some were invented on the spot, some came out unplanned, due to circumstances. Papa turned out to be as lively and unpredictable as life itself. In many senses, he lived on stage.

Thanks to the research of concerned fans, there is quite a lot of material. It occurred to me to collect them in one post for those who want to get acquainted with the canonical image of Terzo. This catalogue uses materials from two users, Cityofmeliora's and myself. You can use them for fanfiction or just for your own amusement. So, allow me to introduce Papa Emeritus III!

Cityofmeliora: Transcriptions and facts

Radley @cityofmeliora has an academic degree in Terzo Studies. He did a great job watching probably 100% of the Terzo videos and bringing us some interesting insights about his personality from the Terzo mines.

▸ notes / thoughts on Terzo's characterization (Terzo is so disappointed and depressed and i love him)

▸ Terzo's mom was mentioned twice

▸ quotes on Secondo and Terzo's age gap / the Emeritus brothers having different mothers

▸ TF on the archetype of Papa

▸ about Terzo's height...

▸ Terzo's sweet tooth 🍰🍫

▸ Secondo lied about being able to speak Swedish, and Terzo lied about *not* being able to speak Swedish

▸ according to the Nameless Ghouls, Terzo is better than Secondo because he has hair and is "less smelly" 😂😂

▸ TF breaks character a little too much and accidentally makes it canon that Terzo has a child 💀👶

▸ Who is Mysterious Spectre?

▸ transcript: Terzo's first concert - Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

▸ transcript: Sweden Rock Festival (June 4, 2015)

▸ Terzo lying about his knowledge of Swedish AGAIN!

▸ Terzo talking about his mom <3

▸ Papa Nihil taught his sons to sing

▸ Terzo hates it when people are bad at clapping 👏👏👏

▸ Terzo knows he's always yapping <3

▸ Terzo is hard of hearing 🦻

▸ Terzo did WHAT in Poland? 😳

▸ Terzo totally not bragging about his Grammy 🙄

▸ Terzo + children 🥰

▸ Terzo had eye infections???

▸ "And it is very important that you respect the fact that there are kids and there are"

▸ Terzo thinks 'Cirice' is a sad song

▸ Terzo getting angry

▸ Terzo's fucked up sore throat voice 🤒

▸ Terzo mentioning Secondo 😎

▸ Terzo mentions his parents 🧑‍🤝‍🧑

▸ Terzo + family 👪

▸ Terzo + being old 👴

▸ Terzo saying quesadillas are his favorite food 🧀

▸ Terzo is NOT a fluent / native Italian speaker 🤭🇮🇹

▸ Terzo + musical instruments 🎹🎸🥁🎺

▸ Terzo hates it when people pronounce "Meliora" incorrectly ☝️🤓

▸ What does terzology know about the overthrow of Papa III?

▸ sad, sad Terzo + 'If You Have Ghosts' 🌙

▸ Terzo is "an isolated kind of guy"

▸ Terzo's clothes are too big for him 👖

▸ Terzo talks about Ghost visiting Philadelphia the same week as pope francis ✝️

▸ Terzo + poor balance + falling ⚠️

▸ TRANSCRIPT: Terzo talking about the Nameless Ghouls during "If You Have Ghosts" (acoustic version) interlude 🎸🎸🎸

▸ Who is Bp. Necropolitus Cracoviensis

Blackbird: Observations and analysis

My modest contribution to terzology was an attempt to summarise observations and look inside the head of the mysterious Papa III.

▸ Part 1: Terzo's responsible attitude to work

▸ Part 2: The jokes about height

▸ Part 3: The relationship between Terzo and Secondo

▸ Part 4: The ideas behind the birds and the bees speech

▸ Part 5: Terzo's other beliefs that he broadcasted

▸ Part 6: Terzo and his loneliness

▸ Part 7: Terzo is referring to Cartesian philosophy?

▸ Part 8: Papa lll's special kung fu

▸ Part 9: Terzo tried to unite the Church

▸ Part 10: Terzo was a socialist

[astonmartingf]

NOT MY FAULT ; FA14

dbf!fernando alonso x ex-red bull engineer! reader . . . if there are many fish in the ocean then fernando alonso is a catch, and it's not your fault if you fell for his hook, line, and sinker.

amgf a lot of appearances from other drivers, an actual plot! allusions to toxic work environment, red bull drama, the math is not mathing but okay. enjoy!!! thank you for still being here pwahaha it's been a while lbh but i hope you enjoy it like always!!!! wchagt update soon along with other wips <3

The only good thing that came out of your mother remarrying was the new found relationship you built with your step father, granted it took a while to get there- you first met him he was twice your age and dating your mother. Growing up you spent your formative years in the Red Bull garage answering math equations with Adrian Newey behind you, Sebastian Vettel laughing as Newey hands you a different worksheet after another.

It was an unusual dynamic, you mother 13 years older than your stepfather, being friends with your stepfather’s rival and teammate, it was unlike any other, but something you wouldn’t replace for the world. 

“Is it true you’re leaving Red Bull?” You were greeted with an over enthusiastic Oscar Piastri as you visited the McLaren motorhome using Mark’s pass. Your lip presses into a thin line, brows raised with a shrug from both shoulders leaving the younger groaning in frustration.

“I’m taking your silence as admission, also entering a McLaren motorhome on a race weekend? Seems like they finally fired you, it’s giving jobless.”

You roll your eyes, “This is a motorhome Osc, not your garage, I doubt they’d be hiding any of your data here, not like they’re secrets to me. Also they didn’t fire me, technically I was the one firing them since I will be leaving the team.”

“So you are leaving Red Bull.” Oscar deadpans, while you hiss as your tongue slipped faster than the thoughts in your head. You just promised yourself you won’t tell anything to anyone before you discussed it with your stepfather. 

Arms crossed to your chest, you face Oscar with the biggest smirk plastered on his face, proud for taunting you out on revealing your plans for the next seasons. “Well now that you know, I personally would like it if you kept your mouth shut. Mark doesn’t know yet and I plan to tell him before finalizing the contracts.”

Raising his hands with a small nod, Oscar moves leading the way to his quarters where you find your stepfather. “You’re free?” Mark looks up from the files in front of him glancing back and forth from you and Oscar. “Are you two in trouble?” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “No, why do you immediately think that? I for one am responsible, as for Oscar he can handle himself and no, we are not in trouble. I need your help.”

Just hearing the four words leaving from you, Mark closed the folders in front of him grabbing his keys, standing up. “Where do you want to go?”

It’s been known that the team principal has a preference for Daniel Ricciardo, the same can be said for Helmut with Yuki and Max, but for Newey it was you. Everyone in the team was well aware of your relationship, Newey taught you everything you knew about engineering and cars.

News of you leaving Red Bull wasn’t broadcasted on any social platform as you wanted to quit the team quietly, not bound to any long term contacts, yet within the team, your move was associated with Newey’s future whereabouts as whispers of him leaving Red Bull increased as the days went by. “You didn’t tell me you’re leaving Red Bull.” 

In front of you sat Newey, bringing forth a cup of coffee and the waffles you ordered prior. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving as well.” You scrunch your nose, whispering touché under your breath before taking a sip of coffee. 

“So, I’m assuming you told your father. Why did you leave?” You take a stab of the waffles, mulling over your conversation with Mark last week. “I told him what happened of course. You know why I left, it’s because of him. Well, partially. Everything was just slowly building up you know, they pushed me to the corner, I left. Simple as that. Mine’s boring, tell me yours. Why’d you leave?”

You felt Newey’s heavy stare into yours, “I heard what he told you, after that I left hoping to convince you to leave but you’ve surprised me once again.” Blinking, you put down the forkful of waffles in shock. Studying his demeanor, Newey continued taking bites of his club sandwich as if he didn’t drop the biggest revelation in front of you.

“You know you’re contractually not allowed to poach anyone right?” Newey rubs the crumbs off of his hands glancing at you with an incredulous look on his face. “I thought you knew me better than anyone, people always assumed I put Max in my clause. He’s a big guy who can handle himself, I put your name in. If I were to leave, I could take you from me. You know Horner said something along the lines of that when I ended my contract one year earlier. He asked about you- if you convinced me to leave. I told him you’re smarter than that, then I- are you crying?”

You raise your hand to your cheeks, wiping the tears you didn’t notice were falling off. “I just thought you’d stay there, and of course I would 100 percent support you wherever you went, I didn’t think you’d stick up for me when I left.” Now you were just full on bawling in front of him, early morning in a semi-busy cafe on a Friday morning. 

Newey laughs at you, throwing a napkin at your face. “I hope you’re ready to receive love calls for the next few days, we’ll be looking for some new prospects.”

You know time is of the essence, and when Newey advised you to keep an eye out for calls, you didn’t think they’d be calling you in the early mornings. Maybe it’s timezone differentiation but with the calls you’ve been getting for the last months have been more than alarming. A groan leaves your lips, before glancing over a familiar contact photo.

“Are you coming to China?” “It doesn’t seem like I have a choice now does it? Sounds like you want me to go now.” You hear movement from the other side of the line, “Yes, we’re stopping by to pick you up, get ready in 30 minutes.” “30 minutes? Am I not given time to prepare?” “Just bring yourself, if you’re worried you can use my money to buy whatever you need.” You scoff, jumping out of bed. “Just because I’m unemployed doesn’t mean I’m broke.” 

“Are you sure you want to pay?” 

“Hell no, I thought unemployment meant time for myself, didn’t think I would have to wake up at 4 AM catching flights to the Chinese Grand Prix.” You hear Mark’s laughter from the other side of the phone. “You better start getting ready, I’m on my way.”

“Never thought I’d see you sell me to another team. I thought I was sitting with you in the McLaren garage?” You explain to your stepfather as he walked with you to the Aston Martin garage.

Mark shook his head from your antics, “It’s a favor for a friend, you know to learn and see the company and team… it might make you enthusiastic to join.” You raise your brows listening to him sell the idea. “Are you not poaching me to join McLaren? Or are you worried about nepotism?”

Mark raised his hands to his face, panicking at the mention of nepotism right in front the Aston Martin garage, glancing around before shaking his head in disapproval while you’re giggling as he fusses over you. “I know you’re old enough to do this but please behave yourself, I just want you to see for yourself and not just because my friend asked for a favor, but I hope you enjoy yourself. I doubt McLaren is having any issues but if they wanted you, they would have to talk to you themselves instead of beating around the bush from me.”

You smile to yourself, “What about Aston Martin? What’s so different? And this favor from your friend, you must be really close with them, you’re offering my time so easily.”

“Fernando personally asked me to invite you.” You raise your brows glancing at the mechanic working on his car, “He couldn’t do it himself huh… Okay. I guess he had to go through such lengths seeing as he’s using you to invite me.” You take the ID Mark prepared for you, your name embossed with Fernando Alonso’s Guest below.

Your eyes wander around the green walls of their garage, you envision yourself in a dark green uniform, sitting on one of the pit lane garages looking over data. When Newey told you to prepare for new prospects you began looking around different teams, McLaren first and foremost due to Mark being involved, dabbling in offers from Mercedes and Williams, even from the junior Red Bull team which you immediately turned down, not wanting to be associated with the team any further. 

The news of Newey leaving hasn’t left the confines of Red Bull, despite Newey mentioning you as the reason he left, you don’t believe it’s the whole truth. You could be a partial reason, but there are many more underlying reasons behind his leave, especially to him who spent almost 20 years with the team, Newey leaving came as a shocker even to you, but what you’re waiting for is his future plans. 

You watch Mark slowly disappear from your sight, leaving you alone and for the first time in the 20 years of your life you felt exactly that. No one would have prepared you for what happened in the last two months of your life all leading to you leaving the first team you joined and spent your childhood in.

Sending a message to the only person you knew who spent his time in both Red Bull and Aston Martin garages, your phone rings as Sebastian calls you instead of answering your message. “Fernando invited you to the Aston Martin garage?” You stand from your seat to a quiet corner in the garage, away from the hustle and bustle, but more for your privacy. 

You rather no one listen to you talking about one of their drivers in his garage. “He asked Mark for a favor apparently, I was whisked away from my apartment to come here in China, now I’m in his garage, only for qualifying though so that’s that I guess.” The silence on the other side starts to make you question your own response.

“That's not the reaction I was hoping for. That’s that? That’s it? Where is the energy?” You roll your eyes at his implicating tone.

“It left the moment I got unemployed.” Sebastian laughs on the other side of the line, “Sounds like he’s trying to promote you as an elite employee.”

“Where the fuck are you learning these from? It’s so unlike you, has retirement made you younger?” You shout at your phone appalled by the words you never once thought would leave his mouth. “I kid, I kid. But you know what I think that message was?”

You sigh, trying to ignore the clammy feeling of your palms as you inch the phone higher to your ear, “I think that was a call for help. All those years of denial haven't changed? I’ll say this, green doesn’t look like a good color on you.”

“Fuck you Seb, calling you was a mistake.” Pressing the button furiously, you end the call. It’s funny how Sebastian always knows how to get on your nerves, maybe you were somewhat similar to your stepfather. That, or Sebastian is easily a mischievous prick who you’re unfortunately friends with and one of the only people who knew about your little something with a certain driver in the grid.

Your phone chimes, a reply from Seb, “I hope you get uncomfortable in his garage while you think back to your escapades in Barcelona, in the summer of 2019.”

It’s not your fault that of all the men available on the face of the earth, your eyes linger a little longer on Fernando Alonso, even if he is your step father’s friend he is hot, is he not?

[accio-victuuri]

from this article about wang yibo’s new show with discovery channel 📝

Discovery Channel's latest masterpiece "Exploring the Unknown" officially announced that Wang Yibo's first outdoor exploration full record

Produced by Warner Bros. Discovery and exclusively broadcast on Tencent Video, Wang Yibo's outdoor exploration documentary program "Exploring the Unknown" has officially been announced. Starting from August 31, the 12 episodes will be updated twice a week on Tencent Video. Actor and singer Wang Yibo, as the initiator of the program, will follow six Discovery Chinese explorers to start an outdoor exploration journey deep into the polar regions. Cheng Er will be the special interviewer to explore Wang Yibo's mental journey and personal growth in participating in the program.

It is the first outdoor exploration documentary program that Wang Yibo has participated in. The program unites six top survival and outdoor experts in China: Lao Xue, a jungle survival skills expert, Zhou Peng, a leader in China's mountaineering community and the first mountaineer to win the "Asian Golden Piolet Award", Wang Hao, an extreme explorer who focuses on cave exploration, Zhou Fang, a natural documentary director and senior underwater videographer, Abang, a world-class rock climber and rock climbing instructor, and Wu Xinlei, a former member of the French special forces and desert survival expert. In the 12 episodes of the program, they accompany Wang Yibo to six extreme geographical destinations such as snow-capped mountains, deserts, islands, and tropical rainforests to complete the exploration mission.

Through real-life footage it presents the audience with the entire process of natural wonders, exploration challenges, emergencies, and outdoor fun. In the trailer, Wang Yibo follows the explorers to extreme environments such as snow-capped mountains and tropical rainforests, and embarks on outdoor challenges such as rock climbing and waterfall rappelling, showing a strong learning ability and sense of skills. When exploring the snow-capped mountains, Wang Yibo faced altitude sickness, quickly adapted and handled it calmly, and successfully reached the summit; when rock climbing, he faced the danger of the rope falling off, but he still did not give up the challenge... His determination and attitude to overcome adversity, his passion for love and exploring the unknown, show the vitality and vigor of young people.

The program not only presents the process of young artists exploring the world, but also focuses on exploring the spiritual world of explorer Wang Yibo. Through six exploration themes, Wang Yibo constantly challenges his physical limits, explores the boundaries that the body can reach, discusses topics about growth among young people, and shows Wang Yibo's attitude and thinking towards big topics such as living, ups and downs in life, fear, and loneliness. Each challenge brings him one step closer to his true self. Contemporary young people can project their own mental state into the program and follow Wang Yibo on a journey to find inner answers and inner strength.

[thecontroll]

⠀ა̸⠀𝐑ai Control Up⠀⠀ 【 TEMP:01CAP:01 】

Art by: Caroless. Write and created by: Control (me)

⠀ ✦⠀Synopsis -

It's been 4 years since the definitive defeat against the fearsome Dr. Eggman. The world seems to remain in peace after that, however, there is something big approaching while people are disappearing into the darkness.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

The end of peace.

It was a busy morning, the typical comings and goings of any big city. Our old and beloved hero finds himself in a corner cafe - a typical downtown cafe, very cozy with an inviting atmosphere.

Sonic seemed to be waiting for someone, which was true, he was waiting for Miles "Tails" Prower, his best friend. It was taking a while to get to the agreed location. The runner had refused service to the waitress twice and became even more impatient with each second.

In the background you could hear the establishment's old television, broadcasting major, prominent broadcasters, which generated public interest. It's time for the big newspapers, with the hottest news of the moment, the hedgehog listened to the new report carefully, remaining discreet to his customers.

"- We have just had another case of disappearances. This is the twentieth reported in recent days, the fourth in the last 5 hours " the reporter says. "The victim was a young civilian, resident of the Sunset City. We give the floor to the detective, -------- listening?"

"- Positive Ms.--------. The question that intrigues us most at the moment is whether there is a relationship with the other cases of disappearances registered in recent weeks. What scares us and which were in various parts of the world . All the victims appear to be young people and the kidnapper seems to have attacked in the same way: at the best time, leaving no trace."

"[---]"

The reporter speaks again, instigating that old television panic: - Will we return to a time of constant attacks after years of peace? What if it's a plan from a new villain ready to bring the world to ruin? And where are our heroes in all this? "

- We're here - the blue one thinks out loud. It wasn't just his friend's delay that made Sonic restless. He's been like this for days, all these strange cases and with Dr. Eggman out of the game it was hard to think about who was responsible for the crimes.

The door bell rings, suggesting that a new customer has just entered, however, he was not there for coffee or dessert. The hedgehog becomes excited and then says:

- Wow Tails, this is taking so long! I was starting to want to run and look for clues.

The fox had finally arrived - much to Sonic's relief. He was holding a bunch of paperwork awkwardly, giving an idea of ​​the delay. They were going to solve this case right then and there, and now!

- Sorry Sonic. It was a lifetime to catch all the bulletins - He justifies himself - listening to the report in the background, now from another sensationalist broadcaster - and speaking of the devil.

- Yup, that's right - Sonic makes a sarcastic expression - they're charging us again.

- Well, your charges will cease. We came here for a reason - Miles throws the files on the table and sits down.

Now they could analyze the piles of files and start the "detective talk".

- The journalism was right: it's the same kidnapper. If we can identify a pattern between the victims and how they are approached - The fox begins, searching through the information on the files. Everything was written down and it really must have been a real headache to get all the information.

- There's something about the civilians ?

- Maybe, let me see. It has all the personal data of the individuals. Name, gender, species and ethnicity, residence, marital status and blood type - Prower pauses for a moment to look at a paper - Sonic, pay attention to this last one.

- They all have the same blood - something catches your attention - type "C", Tails what is that? - The blue one says surprised.

- Blood type C is a blood type very similar to A. It is very difficult to discover because of this similarity - he pauses - I only know that they produce a supposed "miracle protein" but it is just a hypothesis created by Dr. Wire - *sigh* - You know, this blood is extremely rare and exotic. There is no very in-depth research on it, just theories and hypotheses.

- So if the targets are a select group of people, that helps a lot. But the fact that people with common sense know little about it scares me. .

- I'm worried too. Someone has probably discovered something revolutionary and is going to use that knowledge for something terrible, and that someone isn't Dr. Eggman. - The fox looks outside for a minute - Not knowing your enemy is worse than getting used to the atrocities he commits.

- Whoever it is, let's put an end to this - Sonic stands up determinedly, punching his fists and encouraging his friend - after all, we are still heroes, and people are in danger right now... we have to act!

- I don't want to let these people be used either! - the scientist says determinedly, then takes his trusty Miles Electric and begins to calibrate his precious device - Let's see... there must be a record of all individuals cataloged with type C somewhere . . .

The old hero sits back down and watches his faithful companion, all determined. Suddenly a cry of "eureka" is expressed by the fox, affirming his success in the search.

- Here are all registered so far, by counting the number of cases and attaching the names of the victims with the archived data we can make an estimate of the next target - Prower says.

- The criminal has only kidnapped young people so far, which means we can eliminate the older ones - Sonic concluded.

- There are 68 people in total. That number has just dropped to 30, counting recent cases - pause - the kidnapper has a tendency to hide any trace, it's not that hard to make ordinary civilians disappear. I don't believe he/she/it would bother to go after high-class or famous people.

- So we have 27. We need to identify another pattern. How about we take a look at the regions recorded in the investigation records?

- Good idea. Let's see... - Miles looks deeper - Apparently he or she is looking for their victims from North to South, going to West.

Now they just needed to make statistics of the missing regions. That part was left to the fox, a master of quick calculations. The old hero seemed a little more relieved. Seeing all those numbers going down eased the heroes' minds.

In the background, the TV stations continued their narrative of chaos, and the two were fed up with it. It was one of the reasons they had chosen a public place - Tails' idea. They didn't want to admit it, but the newspapers were right about one thing: "we have to put an end to the new threat."

Looking for more information about the cities and countries that suffered the attacks, young Prower seems to have found the answer he was looking for. He exclaims excitedly:

- Found it! Sonic we need to go!

Miles quickly flies off with his tails, collecting all the confidential paperwork. The hedgehog understands the message and follows him, making the coffee machine's dirty towels fly. The people around look surprised, already knowing about the two's presence, passing it off as a fresh suffering - they don't even bother anymore. Despite everything, most of them feel safe seeing the duo in action. .

With the Tornado ready to fly, Miles shouts the destination point:

- TO THE SMALL TOWN OF BLUE COPPER!! ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ •

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ •

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀•

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.

*hmmn* *hmmm*

A grumble can be heard ...

A white-furred cat with purple spots has just woken up from an induced sleep. She was young, her clothes said she was a freshman. Her name was Rai, a Mainecoon cat. .

The girl opens her eyes, still sleepy, and it took her a while to notice the distorted green vision. She was trapped in a laboratory tube, submerged in a type of chemical saltpeter liquid. She could hear the wires in the compartment pulling the bubbles.

Waking up scared when she realized this unusual situation. Now she was awake and with an accelerated heart. In fear of losing her breath, looking in all directions with agitation.

Realizing that she wasn't drowning, she stops. "- What is this!!! Breathable water? W-where am I?!?" Rai thinks scared.

She tries to look more calmly, trying to focus her vision on specific points, escaping the "cloudiness" of the green liquid. She uses her fingers to feel the glass by touch. Her breathing was labored, heavy, still trying to stay calm.

Waking up in a completely different place is not a pleasant experience, especially when trapped in some kind of crazy capsule. Rai can visualize the place where she was. It was a large room, with low lighting and endless metal walls. She was not alone, but she had not noticed the dozens of people in the same situation as the cat - but still unconscious.

The girl began to despair. This was not a dream! Even if she tried to wake up, it was very authentic, this was real! "- Why . . . w-why me???" The feline questioned herself in despair.

She still had so much to live for! So many things to experience, learn, and be moved by. It seemed like he was living his own idealized purgatory.

It seemed like he was living a horror movie, but he wouldn't accept the fact that he was left there with the weight of doubt. It's time to act! No matter how, no matter the consequences! His thoughts were taken over by one feeling: panic, and by luck or bad luck, Rai will use them to his advantage in this traumatic moment.

The girl takes up some space in the small reservoir. Then she hits the glass with her fists. Without any result. Her breathing starts to get more labored, her irises completely retracted, "- crap, of course it wouldn't work. Well, in the end it's my only choice" Rai concludes desperately.

Then she continued to repeat the movement, even though her hands could not handle the pressure. The young woman also kicked hard to compensate for the weak punches from above. And finally, the glass began to show its cracks.

With more blows, kicks and panic and *trick*!! The floor was full of shards, dripping and spreading over it was the green liquid from the capsule. The cat finally managed to free herself.

Trembling, the girl remains in the position in which she fell: on her knees, with her hands tightly gripping the fabric of her pants, her legs scratched by the shrapnel. She looks up, paralyzed.

Rai laughed (a genuine laugh) although it didn't represent happiness. Was it relief? Maybe with a dry mix of fear. At least he had managed to get out, all that was left was to reach the outside.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ . . .

Oh . . . the outside. Now the feline comes to her senses and thinks: "- I have no idea where I am haha". Well, one step at a time.

With some effort, she stood up. Rai, who had surpassed herself in strength a few minutes ago, was exhausted from fatigue. So the next step would be to catch her breath.

The feline slowly tries to recover. The young woman looks down, trying to ignore the pain from the scratches. After a few minutes, the girl becomes active again. She needs to be quick and careful, a difficult task for someone who is in crisis.

Rai leans on one of the capsules in the room, looking slightly to all sides of the corridor. Everything was clear, with no sign of guards, robots or any other kind of bizarreness. Seeing that the coast was clear, the girl runs out - awkwardly given the circumstances.

Look! There's a door ahead: sturdy metal, automated. It seemed to be locked with some kind of technological panel, something Rai couldn't 100% understand.

This gave the feline a certain amount of clarity. In a way, the young woman knew this structure of subjects, articles and newspapers. Obviously, it would be more common for a hero, however, the cat was a simple civilian. She was sure: she was in one of Dr. Eggman's bases. But how? Hadn't the doctor been arrested a few years ago?

Rai felt a strong chill, anything bad could happen, and these thoughts and conclusions were making a hurricane in his head.

Did this mean the scientist could have returned? Or that someone else had taken his place? Was it a distant cousin taking over his Empire? Would someone rescue she? How long had he been there? Had anyone come to see him? This was running through the poor feline's brain, which was beginning to tear up. She was so overwhelmed that she had almost forgotten how to access the door.

Rai I wasn't good with technology, although she was sure that she would have difficulties even being an enthusiast, she was not the prodigy Prower after all! If that room was an incarceration area, security should certainly be reinforced.

The panel glowed red with several codes she didn't understand. Should she try to touch it? She was afraid that an alarm would go off, but nothing compared to her panic at being trapped in this horrible sector.

The feline freezes for a moment. She doesn't know what to do. She leans against the sealed door and slides down to the cold floor, tired and terrified. The girl puts her head between her shoulders and tries to control her distress. Her thoughts consume her in this moment of silence.

"- What am I going to do? I don't want to die"

"I don't want to die"

"Don't--"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"I-I won't go"

Rai raises his head in crisis.

- I refuse to die here!

She gets up and tries to break the control panel. She was furious, in the throes of a panic attack. She would go to hell to try to access the other side.

The device was no longer useful. The girl already had several wounds on her hands. Nothing seemed to have solved it.

And in the hour of despair, behold, the light appeared:

The sound of the huge metal door opening.

Your chance! Rai runs into the endless corridors in front of her. "Just run, even if your body can't handle it" was her thought, her need to live guiding her through this chaos.

The entire base goes on alert, Rai doesn't try to think about it. The lights flash in shades of red and the noise of the sirens is deafening. She just follows her path without looking back, without knowing what's right ahead.

But was that a bit strange, achieving what she wanted so much out of nowhere? Deep down the young woman knew that she was counting on luck, however, she reconsidered having someone else involved in this.

The feline continued at high speed, her body seemed to want to stop at any moment. The corridors seemed to have no end. She went from "here to there" but didn't get anywhere, even with the warning sign in effect.

Finally, Rai seemed to have reached some relevant point. She was in a huge hexagonal room, the glass window in front of the perimeter shone with a clear glow in shades of blue, barely illuminating that dark environment, the place had several counters with devices and buttons. There was no doubt, she was in a command center. The cat also came across a living figure, one she didn't want to see.

The girl stands still as she sees the giant in front of her, watching her with glowing red eyes, shining in the low lighting of the room. With an unmistakable appearance, purposely made to seem familiar, he was like the hero loved by all, but vile, evil and cold. The person staring at Rai is Neo Metal Sonic. Expressing that angry indifference on his metallic face, he shouts at the cat:

- What are you doing here?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

📌 Author's notes: I see you've reached the end of the chapter, thank you very much for your attention. Sorry if the writing seems a bit strange (maybe) I don't understand anything about American literature (I'm Brazilian). See you in the next one.

[jokeroutsubs]

[ENG translation] Joker Out at Eurosonic 2024: an interview with Kris for Val 202 radio station

Today, 22.01.2024, Slovenian radio station Val 202 broadcasted an episode of their 'Glasbena zgodba' ('Musical Story') podcast about the Eurosonic 2024 festival that happened last week. Eurosonic is an annual showcase festival and music conference in Groningen, The Netherlands, where emerging European acts perform for industry professionals and festival scouts. Joker Out performed there this year, so today's podcast featured a short interview with Kris Guštin. You can find the original post here or listen to the original audio in Slovenian in the embed above. Here is the translation of the interview, translated by a member of Joker Out Subs and proof read by @flowerlotus8.

Host: The first group we mentioned, Joker Out, performed twice during the festival. First on Wednesday on the MAAS main stage, and the next day, on Thursday, in the Platosonic record shop, where The Strokes also performed in the past. I invited Kris Guštin, who talked to the fans there in Dutch, in front of the microphone.

Kris: Well, my great-grandma and my grandpa's entire side of the family, who are from Indonesia, live in a place called Assen, which is 30 minutes out of Groningen. It's actually the closest big city for them.

Host: Joker Out haven't performed at many showcase festivals, Kris counts Eurovision and the PIN festival in Skopje among them.

Kris: Showcase festivals are maybe not that important or necessary for us anymore, but we still liked doing one or two, to experience it. It is, however… For performers who are really still looking for an international audience, and especially those who would like to present themselves to industry people from abroad, it's a pretty great chance. It's the same with MENT¹, for Slovenia, of course.

Host: Were you thinking about, or were you under any pressure, considering that there were many music professionals in the audience?

Kris: Not really. It's… We were aware that it would be harder to make a good show, because people wouldn't be that oriented towards us and our music, which is totally understandable. I have to say, however, that I was honestly surprised and happy that we had the first three rows or so of our fans, who really made the atmosphere more lively, otherwise it would've been pretty hard. I did, however, also see... The best kind of validation is to see these people who, at the beginning, are standing in the back and not participating in the concert, who are then bobbing their heads by the end. That's always a good sign of a good concert.

Host: The members of Joker Out, who will release a new single in February and go on another European tour soon after that, are currently living in London, where they are getting used to life there and, as Kris says, creating new music outside of their comfort zone.

Kris: But just as a fun fact, well, I will say that now that we are in London, we've made a song that is the most Balkan song we've ever made, so it's… it might have a completely opposite effect. We don't really have any idea yet where it will take us.

Host: In Slovenia, you made a living with music. Now that you've gone abroad and have all these concerts, is it as profitable as laypeople imagine?

Kris: I'll say it like this: if we stayed only in Slovenia, we would be making more money right now than we actually do. But we have, I don't know, some kind of a chronic flaw where we never know how to stop investing in ourselves, well, how to say it. Which is actually a great thing, but such... touring abroad is definitely not a profitable thing for a band at our level, but I will say that it is less of a financial burden than I thought it would be. We are lucky to have so many listeners that in the previous season, the previous tour, we sold out almost everything, which means that it did bring us some money, but with all the... plane tickets, accommodation, transport, it amounts to so much that in the end, we just managed to nicely finance all of it, plus maybe get some money for the album this year. Otherwise, it's not like we're making big money. If we had stayed in Slovenia, we would've just pocketed all that.

¹MENT Ljubljana is one of the leading showcase festivals and music conferences in Central and Eastern Europe and the largest event of its kind in the region.

[violetmuses]

Roman Reigns + Female Reader 🖤

Fandom: WWE 

Character: Roman Reigns 

Author's Note: Hi! Here's another request and thank you so much for suggesting this idea. Enjoy reading. - V. 💜 @episodes-ff @reignseclipse @lyricailove @mselenalovebug @adriennegabriella @baybehkay 🏷

======

2025

As this big-time Royal Rumble played out, chaos erupted during the Men’s lineup. Thousands of people just lost their minds while observing this battle. 

“Oh my goodness! Upon elimination, Seth Rollins just curb stomped Roman Reigns to capture CM Punk! It’s an all-out brawl tonight.” Commentators nearly panicked while officials and security guards tried to calm down this heated trade. 

“This is awesome!” Fans chanted over and over again, absolutely struck by cinematic drama right now. 

“Wait a minute No, no, no!” Roman look out!” Though Reigns nearly crawled ground himself by the ring, Seth cornered his rival, bringing professional announcers even more pain. “There goes number two - Rollins just stomped Reigns off the steel steps!” 

“Fuck off - Let me go!” Fed up, you nearly sprint out from behind the scenes, but officials realized your presence and several people tried to hold everything back. “Fuck you, Seth! Fuck you.” 

“Look at you! Cat’s out the bag.” When televised subtitles picked back up, Rollins faced your direction and taunted this moment even further.  

“Leave us alone, traitor.” Declining Seth’s idea, you quickly defended your bond with Roman while guards stalked for so many reasons. “Ro!” 

“What the hell just happened? Babe? No!” As Reigns tried to “wake up” from that painful buzz and this Southern accent pulled forward, Roman looked over, still struggling on the floor as your voice nearly echoed. 

“I’m right here!” You tried to reach him over and over again. Even officials helped Roman stand up, but turned in the opposite direction. “Wait. Don't touch me!” 

“She’s calling me…”she..she’s calling…” Despite noting countless bruises as his own face turned red, Roman couldn’t help watching you this time around. 

Your thoughts can’t even remember how that night ended once security escorted you out of the building. 

******

Although your “brother” Jey Uso made history by winning the Royal Rumble for the very first time, celebrations turned away.

Soon enough, another big-time episode of “Monday Night Raw” returned to television, signaling the aftermath. 

This longtime fuel that sparred between rivals Seth Rollins and CM Punk leveled higher with each passing week as Wrestlemania kept looming in the back.

“Have you lost your mind?” Criticizing Seth Rollins, CM Punk defended the bombshell of your relationship with Roman Reigns. "It’s one thing to fight me at the Rumble, but you stepped too far! Tread lightly out here before we both end up buried.” 

“Roman Reigns won’t end me because not strong enough to do that.” Thinking of Reigns, Seth nearly chuckled for a moment. “I should be gone by now. There is no me without him and we cannot coexist at the same time.” 

Out of nowhere, blue spotlights darkened the area. Even Rollins froze and stood up straight without thinking twice. Heroically ominous music thundered out loud as Seth’s knees almost buckled upon realization. Thousands of fans jumped from their seats, ready to see war again. 

“I’m not dead, c’mon!” While thinking of you to fuel his anger, Roman nearly ducked the ring and landed this Superman Punch to bring Rollins down. The crowd screamed even louder than before. 

“Listen to this place!” Announcers can’t believe what’s going as Roman stood over Seth’s fallen body. Given no other choice, Punk simply remained quiet.

Credits rolled to end this broadcast when Roman pointed directly toward the blinding Wrestlemania sign found overhead. 

War has begun! Reigns thought, no longer hiding in darkness. 

[pollymorgan]

Oh my God, how embarrassing... I did it and translated my German fanfiction into English... into bad English! Don't be too harsh on me, but rather make suggestions for improvement: So now a little phone sex with Coach Negan. 🙈😌

Warnings: arrogant Negan, frustrated woman, explicit phone sex

Today is one of those days again, where nothing seems to work as it should. Just like so often lately. Why couldn't I transfer those damn photos to the laptop? I've never been very tech-savvy, but the modern world practically forced me to. I'm actually a cookbook author and used to be quite successful with it. Some of my books were bestsellers and I even had my own cooking segment on a nationally broadcasted morning show. But then I was suddenly replaced by a younger, "cooler" colleague and ever since then, I've been struggling to keep afloat with social media, more or less. If only the technology would cooperate..

Even in my personal life, I have been replaced. Four months ago, my husband left us. By us, I mean my three children and me. After 19 years of marriage. But love goes where it goes, right? Nothing can be done against that. At least, those were his words when he got into his Porsche with a blonde woman who could be his daughter and disappeared.

Since then, he has managed to do something with his children exactly twice. But in exchange, he has already disappointed them seven times by canceling the meetings at short notice. Yes, I'm keeping count. At least for now.

My oldest daughter Penny is 15 years old and fully immersed in puberty, and it seems that this situation is hardest on her. She and her father were always a unit, his little princess. But there's no trace of that at the moment. Most of the time, he doesn't even bother to answer his damn phone when she tries to reach him.

I see her suffering. She's lost interest in school, and her circle of friends is dwindling visibly. I would love to help her, but how? At the moment, I just can't seem to reach her. Our communication mostly consists of doors slamming.

But back to my current problem. These damn pictures! The article is supposed to go online today. I cooked an Indian dish and had to drive halfway across town to get these damn spices. Thursdays always bring an international post, and now, of all times, nothing is working again. My laptop doesn't recognize the memory card, and the camera won't connect either. I keep plugging and unplugging the cable, hoping the error will magically resolve. Which of course it doesn't. Suddenly, I glance at the small display in the lower right-hand corner. Damn it! So late. I won't be picking up the kids on time again, the second time this cursed week. Annoyed, I close the screen. Grabbing my purse, I walk quickly to the garage. Where's the damn car key? Nervously, I rummage through my chaotic bag, spilling half of its contents on the floor. Finally finding it, I get into the car and speed out of the driveway.

The first stop is the kindergarten to pick up my youngest. She's a real bundle of nerves, but so sweet that you can forgive her anything. Of course, she throws a tantrum right at pickup. It's a real struggle to get her into the car. Like a madwoman, I drive on to the elementary school to pick up my 9-year-old son. He is the calm one in our family and thankfully waits with his best friend relaxed in front of the school. At least one who's not mad at me. Lucky me. And off we go, heading to my daughter's high school. From a distance, I can see her and immediately know that - once again - something is wrong. She stands all alone and pretty annoyed on the street, looking out for me. When I park the car right in front of her feet, she angrily drops onto the passenger seat.

"Penny, I can explain, you know what a loser I am when it comes to technology..." I try to justify myself.

My eldest rolls her eyes in annoyance. "Mum, this time, for once, it's not your fault..." I see tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and automatically, I feel a lump in my throat.

"Mister Smith... he..."

She doesn't need to continue speaking; just hearing that name fills me with such anger again. Right from the start, there have been issues with her physical education teacher, Negan Smith.

I've only seen him twice so far, at parent-teacher conferences, but Penny's stories are enough for me to know that he's an absolute failure as a teacher. He has his favorites whom he praises to the skies, while the less athletic students suffer under his authoritarian ways. My daughter already feels uncomfortable in her own skin, and that jerk doesn't even realize the impact his remarks have on the young girls.

A few years ago, his wife passed away from cancer. A terrible tragedy, but apparently that did not make him more empathetic; quite the opposite.

I'm currently looking in the rearview mirror to avoid hitting anyone in the chaos outside the school. That's all I need on this crappy day. Then I catch sight of none other than Penny's physical education teacher.

"Isn't that him?" I ask excitedly.

My daughter buries her face even further into the backpack in her lap. "Yes, Mom, it's okay, please just drive..."

The anger that had been building up recently had just found a good release.

With the words "Nothing is good...", I yank open my driver's door and head purposefully towards my daughter's physical education teacher, who is just stowing his bag in his car.

"Who do you think you are?" I stand behind him with arms crossed, eagerly awaiting his reaction.

Confused, he turns around to face me and suddenly a big grin spreads across his face. "Negan Smith, nice to meet you, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

What a cocky jerk!

"The mother of a rather offended young girl, because of you..."

Can't he just drop his arrogant smile for once? Quite unimpressed, he closes the door of his car.

"Penny has so much potential and she's wasting it on the damn bench..."

Such an idiot, he clearly knows who I am.

"Maybe you should listen to the young students as well, instead of just spouting off random remarks at them?"

Amused, he shakes his head. "I did... her excuse for skipping today's P.E. class was menstrual cramps..."

"And in your opinion that's not a valid reason or what? How dare you even pass judgment on that? Your students' bodies are going through changes and such discomforts should be taken seriously..." I respond a bit too loudly, causing some students to turn towards us.

Resigned, he raises his hands. "Of course, but not every damn other week. Maybe you should give your daughter some biology lessons again and explain to her that her P.E. teacher isn't completely from another planet."

Oh God, what does this man think he is..

"And you should work on your teaching skills... Otherwise, maybe I should consider contacting the school board!"

„Oh wow, you're actually a bigger drama queen than your dear daughter!".

Did he really just say that? Did he just seriously insult me? My daughter's teacher. I look at him in disbelief, but he just grins.

"And now she's quiet... I really have to go now, but I'm pretty sure we'll meet again soon." With these words, he jumps into his car and drives off.

Completely perplexed, I walk back to my car and am greeted by my daughter with the words "That was soooo embarrassing.."

7 hours later

Finally peace! Why does it always have to be such a struggle to get the kids to bed? Isn't it unfair that you are a thousand times more tired than the dear little ones? What a crappy day! I'm glad to be freshly showered in my bed and finally have some time off. Just me and my phone, no one else. No more whining, arguing, and crying. As much as I sometimes curse technology, I also love being able to connect with people over the internet. It's fun to respond to comments, the direct exchange with like-minded people is the only positive thing about social media. As I scroll through Instagram, I suddenly see comments coming in at a rapid pace. Confused, I open them. From "Do you always look so good when you cook?" to "Can you cook that for me sometime?" to heart emojis, and they all come from the same account. As I read the name, a shock runs through me. Can this be for real? "Coach Negan" is he not only a tactless asshole, but also a real psychopath? Excited, I click on his account, but apart from a profile picture where he is clearly recognizable, there is no further information.

I quickly open the messaging function and type "What is this???" into my phone. It only takes a few seconds and I receive a response.

"I am a fan 😉"

For a while, I stare at the screen, unable to believe what is happening here.

Suddenly, he sends me a picture. I open it and see a photo of me from my highlights, showing me from my post "Valentine's Day." I had cooked a three-course meal and written a pretty cheesy text back then. It's one of my most liked posts.

"Red lipstick suits you. Matches your fiery nature.." he writes.

What does he want to achieve? Did the confrontation before school hurt him so much that he is trying to provoke me? But to be honest, it seems like he's the one giving me a warning. Well, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the best defense is a good offense.

"Oh, do you think so? Most men say I look better without wearing anything...I mean, without lipstick, of course.. 😉".

"Are you already in bed?" he asks next. What a bizarre situation? Why does my daughter's teacher want to know where I am? The same teacher who called me a ‚drama queen‘ just a few hours ago.

I keep trying to type a suitable response on my phone and then delete it again. Finally, I write briefly, "Yes, and you?"

"Yes, and I'm studying your profile. Do you realize how crazy you can drive a man with these pictures? Why am I even asking, of course you do. 😉"

The feeling of small electric shocks runs through my body. The whole thing feels strangely forbidden. Maybe what I'm doing here is damn wrong, but right now, the consequences seem pretty irrelevant to me.

"How mean, you can look at my pictures, but you don't have any online yourself."

"That's true, but how about you hear my voice instead?" Attached to this message was his phone number. Okay, this is all moving pretty quickly, in a pretty strange direction. I'm so excited that I can feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest. But what do I have to lose? I haven't felt like this in the last 20 years. Okay, it's a damn bizarre situation, but I'm an adult and single. So I can finally talk to whoever I want. Even with the biggest jerk I've come across lately.

Feeling totally tense, I dial the number and as it rings, it gets even worse. I take a few deep breaths, and suddenly the deep voice on the other end answers with a "What took you so long to decide?" and I can practically feel his grin.

"Well, I had to think for a moment about what would be so sensible about calling my daughter's narcissistic gym teacher in the middle of the night," I say calmly.

"And what would be sensible about that?" he asks with interest.

"I haven't really found a solid reason yet, but maybe you can tell me?"

He thinks for a moment, and I imagine him lying in his bed. A slight tingling sensation spreads in my stomach, which is intensified by his response.

"Well, I can make sure you feel a little better... forget all the everyday crap that's weighing on your pretty shoulders right now."

I briefly close my eyes to focus more on his voice, which really manages to relax me a bit with just that simple sentence.

"And how do you plan to do that?" I ask softly.

"When was the last time you were really well fucked?" As soon as he says it, my lower abdomen tightens, and I automatically press my legs together.

After I take a moment to collect myself, I honestly respond, "That was much too long ago..."

"Oh, poor girl," Negan provocatively replies, but instead of getting upset about it, it triggers completely different feelings in me. "Tell me about what you imagine when you stroke your lonely pussy at night."

I have to swallow briefly to get rid of the extremely dry feeling in my throat.

"I can tell you what I think about when I do it in a moment..." I say softly but firmly.

And his tone changes too. His breathing becomes heavier. "Then tell me, come on," he commands.

"I imagine it's your fingers running over my body and finally sliding my panties to the side and penetrating deep into me..." My cheeks feel like they're glowing. I've never talked like this with anyone before, and now I just did it with a man who is actually a stranger to me.

"Come on, sweetheart... touch yourself for me and tell me if you're wet," he interrupts.

Without thinking, I click on the speaker icon on my display and place the phone next to me on the pillow, then I slide my right hand under my nightgown into my panties and I'm surprised at how aroused I already am, how swollen my clit is, and how sensitive my whole intimate area has become. I sigh softly.

"Fuck, the sweet little sounds you're making... they make my damn cock twitch in my hand with joy..."

Just the thought that he's so aroused by me on the other end sends waves of pleasure through my body.

"I'm already so wet because of you, Negan..." I admit breathlessly.

"You dirty, pretty lady, if I were with you right now, I would slowly penetrate deep into you... you need that now, don't you?"

"Yes!" I can only whisper.

"Okay, now do everything exactly as I tell you, understood?" he demands.

"Yes, please tell me what to do.." I focus solely on his voice, completely tuning out everything else.

"Take off your panties. Use your index and middle fingers to gently stroke over your mons pubis and then slowly over your outer labia, but not more, just right there.."

Immediately, I follow his instructions. The air feels cool on my bare lower abdomen. I feel strangely exposed, even though I am alone in my bedroom, but it's not uncomfortable, quite the opposite. I begin to caress myself gently.

"How does that feel?" his voice breaks the silence again.

"Good, but I want more.." I plead.

"I already knew that.. Bend your legs and spread them wide.. as far as you can.." He gives me a brief moment to comply with his instructions. "Now push your pelvis even further forward.. Imagine I'm between your legs and you want to present me with your beautiful pussy, you would like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes.." I say and nod vigorously, even though no one can see me.

"Such a good girl.. and now run your index finger through your slit, spread your juices.."

I can't and don't want to hold back my moans now. There is silence for a while at the other end, then I speak heavily.

"Are you also pleasuring your cock for me?" I ask as I continue to touch myself.

"Oh, sweetheart, so your thoughts are currently only about that.." he says snappily. "Yes, I am, and if you keep moaning so sweetly into the phone, it won't be long, so it's time for you to start massaging your clit, but don't be too timid, circle it with two fingers and use some pressure, even if you're very sensitive now, you can take it.."

Oh God, that was exactly what I needed right now. My body felt like in ecstasy and I could feel the orgasm slowly building up.

"Don't come yet," he commanded, and on cue, I immediately removed my fingers from my most sensitive spot.

"Now, bring your knees close to your body!“

"Yes," I replied, completely exhausted. "You're doing it perfectly, how much I would love to see you in this position right now, just the damn thought!" I could clearly hear him softly moaning. This sound made my body twitch with excitement.

"Penetrate yourself with two fingers... nice and slow. Focus entirely on the feeling of stretching your pussy wide... Tell me when you're all the way in!"

"Now," I whispered, already quite spent.

"Then add your ring finger, once you've done that, you can come intensely as a reward, I promise."

Slowly, I press the third finger into me, which initially causes a bittersweet pull, but I'm so wet that it's not a problem.

Without me telling him, Negan knows that I fulfilled his request.

"So perfect, sweetheart! And now, pleasure your clit! Bring yourself to climax and don't hold back any sound, I want to hear every sweet noise from you."

With the first gentle touch, my body twitches like crazy.

"Negan, please come with me," I stammer into the phone.

"Yes, I promise, beautiful," he replies breathlessly.

And these words are enough for me to come as intensely as I haven't in the past years. My thighs tremble uncontrollably and my heart almost jumps out of my chest. My lower abdomen contracts in waves and I can barely breathe. It feels like I am weightless for a few seconds.

"Do you feel good?" he asks after a short pause.

"Perfect.." I reply and can't gather my thoughts yet.

"Okay, then I expect you tomorrow at 3:30 p.m. for a parent-teacher meeting at the school, and, by the way, without panties.. Good night!" After these words, I only hear a beep on the line.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

@Wuerker

* * * * *

THE ELMO & VIVEK SHOW

TCinLA

Nov 24, 2024

Looking for something to give a pair of rich dorks who he wants to keep around f or their money, last week Trump appointed Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy to co-lead the “Department” of Government Efficiency” (DOGE). The appointment makes them official DOGEBAGS.

The real name of this meme masquerading as a “government department” is The Department Of Breaking Shit We Don’t Understand.

Last Wednesday, the two dildos spelled out their plans in a long article in The Wall Street Journal that revealed them as pair of idiots who consider themselves geniuses despite the fact neither has a clue how government actually works.

They claimed they will “serve as outside volunteers” - which means neither has to face a background check they couldn’t pass or has to divest themselves of their money-making operations. They will be making recommendations that allow the Trump administration to “cut the federal government down to size.” Their primary focus is on cutting down the total number of federal agencies, which they view as wasteful and “antidemocratic.”

“Most legal edicts aren’t laws enacted by Congress but ‘rules and regulations’ promulgated by unelected bureaucrats,” write the two unelected self-proclaimed geniuses. This demonstrates their ignorance of the Adminitrative Procedures Act, in which Congress delegates the power to administer a law to the agency tasked with carrying that out. Admittedly, all this may change as the result of the Unsupreme Court overthrowing the Chevron Rules in the recent Loper Bright v. Raimondo and West Virginia v. Environmental Protection Agency cases - in which the court suggested that many current federal regulations exceed the authority Congress has granted under the law - but it’s an important marker that these two have no real clue what they’re talking about.

Musk and Ramaswamy say they’ll hire “a lean team of small-government crusaders” to work with the Trump administration and the White House Office of Management and Budget, working with Chief Sledghammer Wielder Russell Vought, who is returning as Director of the OMB.

According to the pair of dimbulbs, DOGE will work with legal experts embedded in government agencies, aided by advanced technology, to apply the new rulings to federal regulations. DOGE will present this list of regulations to be done away with to President Trump, who can, by executive order, immediately pause enforcement of those regulations and initiate the process for review and rescission.

What they fail to realize that that they have been put in charge of a non-existent “department” that can make recommendations which would be entirely dependent on members of Congress—who will think twice about cutting $2 trillion dollars from programs that directly impact their constituents.

Muck & Vivek see Trump cutting “thousands” of federal regulations that will allow for “mass head-count reductions” of government employees. DOGE will try to determine the “minimum number of employees required at an agency for it to perform its constitutionally permissible and statutorily mandated functions.” This will almost certainly hamstring many government agencies, which enforce everything from environmental protections to healthcare standards.

The two “experts” also suggest that Trump can require federal employees to return to their offices five days a week, which could bring about “voluntary terminations.” “If federal employees don’t want to show up, American taxpayers shouldn’t pay them for the Covid-era privilege of staying home.”

The two specifically list federal expenditures they want to put on the chopping block, including “$535 million a year to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting” and “$1.5 billion for grants to international organizations to nearly $300 million to progressive groups like Planned Parenthood.”

In truth, the Elmo & Vivek Show reveals they are a pair of 12-year-old boys who know nothing about the world but are confident that they can make that world bend to their will because they are 12-year-old boys who don’t fucking know better.

They claim they will be able to “eliminate the need” for DOGE’s existence by July 4th, 2026. Since that’s about the time the mid-term election campaign will be heating up, their decision to make themselves scarce will be welcomed by those Republican congress critters who who represent “competitive” districts.

That idea that DOGE will have accomplished its goals in 18 months also reveals that these two idiots not only have no clue, but no fucking clue, about what will happen with their recommendations. Those that don’t get dropped for pissing off people Trump can’t afford to piss off will immediately land in court, where the legal process will hang them up through the mid-term elections, after which Trump will definitely be a “lame duck,” and hopefully a lame duck who has to deal with a Democratic majority in both houses of congress - the result of Democrats benefiting from an election map as favorable to them in 2026 as the 2024 map was to Republicans.

Topping off the Elmo & Vivk Shitshow is the news they will “work closely” with Marjorie Traitor Goon, who House Oversight Committee Chairman Comer the Gomer has appointed to chair the DOGE Subcommittee on Governmental Efficiency.

What we’re looking at is a pair of arrogant dipshits who have no idea how government works, working with the Dumbest Bimbo in Congress, who has no idea how anything works. Does anyone really think nothing can go wrong with this?

As AOC put it, “This is good, actually. She barely shows up and doesn’t do the reading. To borrow a phrase I saw elsewhere, it’s like giving someone an unplugged controller. Absolutely dying at those two now getting assigned the ‘privilege’ of ‘working’ with MTG. That is actually hilarious. Enjoy, fellas! Very prestigious post you have there.”

[TCinLA]

[ixdthestreams]

PCap Recap - The Husbands of River Song

Apologies again for being so late with this (and for being almost MIA over the last week). Christmas is always crazy busy in my house and my daughter’s meltdowns go off the scale so I do tend to become the most unsociable person around this time through no fault of my own.

Soooooo……… The Husbands of River Song. Where to start, where to start?

I fucking love this story! Simple as. It is without question my favourite of all of 12’s episodes (narrowly beating Heaven Sent) and in turn my favourite 12 Christmas episode (knocking Twice Upon a Time into second place).

From the off I think it broadcasts exactly what to expect. The ‘Carol Singers will be criticised’ sign warns us were about to meet a very grumpy Doctor and lots of laughs are ahead. I love a bit of grumpy 12 so bring it on! When they announced that Matt Lucas was in this episode I was secretly dreading it. When he was joined by Greg Davies I was twice as anxious. I always loved Matt Lucas in small doses and was worried that he would be expected to play it more serious than he was used to. I needn’t have worried as I thought his presence in this, and subsequent episodes, added a much needed foil for the Doctor. Someone who would just tell him straight.

For anyone who doesn’t know, Greg Davies is a comedian who used to be a teacher. I love his stand up and he’s always such good value on chat shows but I don’t think his strengths lie in acting. I’m sad to say his performance in this only reinforced that opinion. If he’d have been given some funnier lines my opinion might have been different, but in this he’s definitely the villain but also very much the straight guy. However, that does, of course, mean that our boy gets to go heavy on the funnies in this, and he does so splendidly well.

His first shot with the hologram antlers always creases me up. Such a deadpan face. From there we get line after line of growingly incredulous dialogue from him as he simply can’t believe that River doesn’t know who he is. Once she does realise who he is they really start to bounce off each other joyfully. Which brings me to the goddess Alex Kingston.

Now, I am a happily married, straight woman in her 50’s but Christ alive that woman makes me doubt every sexual attraction I’ve ever had! She effortlessly smoulders and impishly plays with every man she shares a scene with. She never really made an impact on me when she was in ER but in DW she shines. In addition to all the pure sex she radiates - the woman can bloody well act!

I was lucky enough to see her play Lady Macbeth against Kenneth Brannagh in his production of Macbeth for the Manchester International Festival in 2013. It was a unique production in a small disused church on the edge of Manchester City Centre. We, the audience were sat in the pews which had been realigned and tiered (bleacher-like) to run the full length of the church from the altar to the entrance, with a widened aisle and altar then becoming the main performance area. At the opposite end to altar a large wooden wall had been build which had shuttered windows built into it (it was here that the ghost and witches would appear and from which Lady Mac would meet her end. It was all very secret in that the audience met in a warehouse and didn’t know where the performance would take place. Shortly before show time, we were walked in groups of 8-10 to the church which was a few streets away and seated. We sat in the front row pew next to the wall and as I sat I realised there was a hooded woman knelt on the alter at the far end, lighting candles. We were one of the first groups to be seated and it took a good 20 minutes for the rest of the small audience to be seated and settle in. As the lights dimmed for the show to start, the hooded figure began to stand. She turned, removed her hood and revealed herself to be Lady Macbeth, Alex Kingston. She’d been knelt there for more than 20 minutes just lighting candles!!! I was awe inspired and both my husband and I fell completely in love with her over the course of her performance. The play itself was completely immersive. At one point a rain storm started (IN THE CHURCH!!!) during a battle scene which drenched the first few rows of the audience including me. This coupled with the fact that there was soil on the floor which turned to mud in the rain made for a thrilling if not messy few hours. Oh and because of they way the bleachers were built I could see where the actors where getting changed and got a, not unpleasant, eyeful of Brannagh in his pants 🤭

So suffice to say, AK is one of my most favourite women and to pair her with my most favourite man (sorry my husband!) is delectable. What an incredibly charismatic pairing these two actors were. And what an unforgivable shame this was the only story we got of them together. I know, I know - our boy’s version of Who is the one who got to spend 24 whole years of domestic bliss with her. Was this when he became a father? I truly like to think it is. In fact I’ve got the startings of a fanfic in my head about the 24 years and what happened. Maybe I’ll get to it one day, Who knows? But my God they sizzled together. They are the only, truly believable pairing of River and the Doctor in my opinion. They look like a couple. River with all the other Doctors just doesn’t work for me. There’s just no real spark. It always felt artificial.

Quick Takes, Observations and Questions

Am I right in thinking that the street set at the start is the alley from Face the Raven just redressed? The layout feels very familiar.

This is by far the funniest episode Moffat has ever written. I doubt he’ll ever surpass it.

The hair! The costume! Just absolute perfection in this.😎

His anti-monarchy speech ❤️✊

His face when River kisses Ramone 🤮

Hello Sweetie! Imagine hearing that from his lips and it being directed at you. 🌊

The quick ogle of River’s boobs he manages to squeeze in when the diamond drops into her dress. 🍒🍆

24 fecking years!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭

If I could watch just one episode on a loop until the end of time it would be this. It brings me nothing but warm fuzzy feelings when I need them the most. And we all need as many warm fuzzy feelings as we can lay our hands on in these dark days.

4 1/2 billion stars out of 5!

[trellanyx]

Striker Drabble

Was thinking of how I'd merge my Striker with canon, and what might make him start to question some of the views he's expressed in the show, and then this fell out.

Set during Mastermind, after Striker leaves the stand.

“For the treacherous crime of stealing a Geotia’s grimoire for illegal use, bringing harm to a Goetic prince, and accessing the mortal coil without clearance or procedure, you, Blitzo, and your crew are hereby sentenced…to death.”

The echo of Satan’s judgment followed Striker down the pit. He hopped off the platform feeling lighter than he had in weeks. These were the moments that made it worth it, all those little deaths of dignity that came with working for Hell’s upper echelons. How else could he have secured immunity for twice attacking a Goetia and make his enemies pay for it? It was all about playing the long game.

“And due to your bold actions against the laws of Hell, your execution will be broadcast across the seven rings to remind all of impkind why our power must never be challenged again.”

Striker’s smile curdled into a bitter sneer. Fucking assholes, the lot of them. So damn convinced they were untouchable in their brimstone towers they never saw people like him coming. It was all yes sir, no sir, thank you sir, until a holy dagger was lodged in their eye. And for all the trouble Stolas’ family and fuck buddies had given Striker over this hit, he planned on listening to the bird’s brain sizzle.

There were several screens along the hallway to the exit, each showing a different angle of the courtroom. Striker leaned against the opposite wall, tail rattling in anticipation. He had enough grudging respect for IMP’s abilities to not leave anything to chance; he’d leave once he saw their heads fall into lava and not a second before.

“No! Not them, your Highness! It was me, it was all me!”

Striker snorted, shaking his head at Blitzo’s desperate attempts to bargain. Not for the first time he thought of what a damn shame it was that Blitzo was so set on going down for demons who’d only ever see him and his family as tools: to play with, to use, to destroy and to discard without conscience or consequence. If he’d just taken Striker’s original offer, Stolas would be dead and none of this would be happening.

“I suppose I created impkind to be obedient…”

Striker spat at Satan’s televised head.

“All I was trying to do was rise above the stupid fucking place YOU ALL FORCED US INTO!”

“Too lil’, too late, boss man,” Striker muttered. His tail thumped to the ground in a sudden state of weariness. For all the bad blood between them, Striker did still admire Blitzo for what he tried to do. Sure, he got too comfortable in the beds he weaseled his way into, but at least he built something. At least he gave imps something else to see when they looked up from under royal boots, something independent and unapologetically imp. On darker nights, when he was several whiskeys past midnight, Striker could admit that Blitzo had more to be proud of than he did.

But pride and survival could never coexist forever, and for all his boasting, Striker had chosen his side long ago. So he would salute Blitzo with one hand and not lift the other to save him, and in exchange for his cowardice he’d live to fight another day. Maybe when Striker worked through his hitlist and came to Andrealphus’ name, he’d throw in an extra bullet in Blitzo’s memory.

Then a streak of feathers cut across the camera, and Striker’s mouth dropped open like all the others to see Prince Stolas himself stand between Blitzo and the axe. He recalled sitting in Andrealphus’ freezing parlor room, listening to the Goetia siblings twitter about their latest scheme and his role in it. Stolas interrupting the trial was only one of the possible outcomes Andrealphus plotted for, but it was also the one he seemed most convinced would happen. Striker had scoffed that not even Stolas was stupid enough to put himself on the line for an imp, no matter how good the dick was, to which Andrealphus only hummed condescendingly.

Throughout Stolas’ ensuing song, Striker stepped closer to the TV screens like something had lassoed him from the other side. Gone were the multiple angles – now the footage had all coalesced into a single shot of Stolas flying around the courtroom. He was saying all the right things: Blitzo was too stupid to conceive of the crime, let alone carry it out unassisted; to make an example of him was not only foolish but insulting; pride and survival were clashing yet again, and of course the arrogant prince couldn’t bear to let his own pride take so much as a bruise, even if it meant…

It made sense. It was right. It was everything Striker had been trying to tell people about who the royals were, why amicability with them was impossible. It was…

…too perfect.

Striker’s tail lashed from side to side, rattling almost too loudly to hear the TV. Vindication should be running hot through his veins. Hell, seeing Stolas in chains should feel like Sinsmas come early! But Striker had seen that soppy idiot at the Harvest Moon Festival. He’d seen Stolas when he thought he was about to die, in that single moment when all masks fell away, no matter who you were. Stolas was many things, but he wasn’t cunning. Not like this.

So why was he pretending to be?

The obvious answer was also the one Striker was least willing to accept. If Stolas was genuinely trying to protect Blitzo at the risk of losing everything… it was inconceivable. Unacceptable. To admit otherwise was to admit Striker had been wrong about him. And if he was wrong about Stolas, about Blitzo, about what they had and about what was possible…

What else was he wrong about?

[ranmagender]

New Fic!

Joyce York is the host of a morning radio show that's broadcast across Wonderland. It's on at 8 AM twice a week and brings news, discussions and music to the citizens of Wonderland. Today as the the citizens are embracing pride month a host of news has hit causing shakeups in the community.

The pride special of sorts that I promised, I personally think its rather fun if I do say so myself. Not to be biased of course.

I had a lot of fun with this one and managed to include a variety of characters in this one such as one from my buddy @marvelousmop

I really wanted to make something special for pride month.

Enjoy!

[fcble]

On December 10, 2023, MINGEUN and JAESEOP took to Instagram Live for an unsanctioned response to an incendiary YouTube video from a few weeks earlier. The livestream lasted fifteen minutes and was obviously unscripted. The two of them frequently talked over one another and jumped from topic to topic without saying much of anything. Mingeun was noticeably out in nature somewhere, going as far as attempting to fish during the broadcast. His seemingly nonchalant attitude led some viewers to believe he couldn't care less about the issue at hand.

Also noticeable was the presence of BYEONGHWI in the live’s comment section, though he appeared to disagree with Mingeun and Jaeseop.

TRANSCRIPTION, TOP TO BOTTOM, LEFT TO RIGHT

JAESEOP: I assume everyone has seen the video by now. MINGEUN: [interrupting] If you haven’t, don’t go and watch it now. Watch it after.

JAESEOP: [reading a comment] ‘Where are you?’ Hwi, I’m not answering that.

MINGEUN: [in English] ‘Blink twice if you were forced to do this.’ Forced? Don’t make me laugh.

JAESEOP: It’s fine to dislike or disagree with us. MINGEUN: [interrupting] But if you’re going to criticize us, don’t bring up something that happened to me years ago.

MINGEUN: [still interrupting] I get it. I’m sorry. It wasn't my fault.

MINGEUN: [in English] Where am I? Outside. You should try it sometime.

MINGEUN: I didn't ask for any of this. I didn’t want to represent anything. Did any of us know we had that responsibility? JAESEOP: [interrupting] Go catch a fish, Mingeun. He doesn’t mean that.

MINGEUN: [catching a fish] JAESEOP: We’ve changed our perspective. In the beginning, the concept was supposed to make us stand out. Every group has to start somewhere.

MINGEUN: [still catching a fish] JAESEOP: Since then, we’re improving ourselves to be idols capable of properly sharing the past with the world.

[youngerdrgrey]

must you do the things you do? // The Morning Show fic (1 / 2)

about: 2x06 Episode Tag. After outing Bradley and Laura (via The Vault), Cory stops over at Laura's dressing room for a chat. Laura pieces a few things together. or, Laura gets the chance to call out Cory for his crush on Bradley at the most inopportune time for them all. (Read on AO3) . notes: the title is literally from "The Boy is Mine." Here's another oneshot I started in 2021 and cleaned up this week. In 2x06, after Bradley and Laura were outed (by Cory in exchange for protecting Hannah’s memory), we saw the conversation between Cory and Bradley. He told her she didn’t have to explain herself, and she told him that she thought maybe it would be good for her to have to admit to everyone that she actually wants to be with Laura. But what could the convo between Cory and Laura have looked like?

~

Laura never should’ve come back to The Morning Show. If it weren’t for Bradley, she wouldn’t have. Leave it to Laura to somehow get outed twice on the same time slot. At least last time, she didn’t have to do a live broadcast as the news broke. And there was no Twitter back then. If people wanted to call her a predatory lesbian, they had to at least try calling the station.

Cory chuckles from the doorway of her dressing room. It’s probably meant to sound disbelieving, or comforting. It mostly sounds hollow. Almost pleased.

Laura may be projecting. May be possessive of Bradley in the face of a man she knows would do far more than he should for their favorite news anchor. He might even enjoy seeing them fall apart.

She speaks first. “All these years, and this might be the first time you’ve been in my dressing room.”

He goes for the joke. Voice lowering to a conspiratorial show whisper. “You don’t see many of my type.” When her eyes don’t stray from her vanity’s mirror, Cory pulls on his most sympathetic grin. “Forgive the joke. I thought a little levity could help on a difficult day. It must… bring back memories.”

Laura’s done a lot of work to keep as many of them buried as possible. The strain might tinge her words. “It must. But I’m not the one you should be talking to.” Nor is she the one he wants to. His eyes betray him.

He offers first, “Bradley’s not answering her door.” That explains it. She can’t help the soft chuckle that brings up. Cory adds, “I also wanted to have a word with you.”

He shifts as he says it. Cory always has the sort of chaotic energy of static trapped inside a bottle, unable to break free.

Laura turns in her chair to give Cory her full attention. In turn, Cory finally steps further into her room. He stays standing, which is either a power play or a move for a quick exit.

“Now I won’t ask you to confirm or deny what I’m seeing,” he says. “From a studio standpoint, it can and should be treated as gossip. I can understand how things could be misconstrued. Something as simple as two friends headed home….”

Is that how he wants to play it? Turn UBA against The Vault? Play Laura as the horrified mentor who can’t be near a woman without dating accusations. Bradley’s just a victim. A sweet ally on the wrong side of salacious rumors. A spurned woman who triumphantly powered through the broadcast while the whole world questioned if she was sleeping with her co-anchor.

“It’s interesting,” Laura starts before the thought has fully formed, “that this happened on my first day back. How fortunate this is for the ratings.”

Cory smiles that crooked, too wide smile at her implication. No denial, but then again, she has no proof. 

Laura adds, “I will defer to Bradley on how to handle this situation. Your input is appreciated, but as you’ve already referenced, this isn’t my first time on Page Six.”

He nods, but he doesn’t say anything else. His hands wring, knuckles circling under the pads of his thumbs. He’s teeming with something. Building up his courage to ask what he really wants to know.

He snaps his fingers. “You know I do wonder how we got to this moment. One second, you had to be coaxed to interact with our anchors, and the next….” His eyebrows pitch up for emphasis. He tries to sound so casual.

Laura reminds him, “You brought me into this. You asked me to get close to Bradley.”

A fire lights behind his eyes. “I said coach her, not poach her to your — this —“ Laura lifts a sculpted brow, but Cory holds up a finger as he retracts and rephrases. He tries again with a humorless laugh. “Hey, a lot can happen in thirty-six hours.”

“A lot can happen in a year as well. I can sense how you feel about Bradley.” 

This, he denies. “I worry about her. She didn’t have the benefit of the mentors that you had, and—“

“And you think I’m taking advantage of her? Hypothetically speaking.”

“I wouldn’t dare think that.”

Laura leans forward in her seat. “Yet you’re here, in my dressing room, to what? Defend her honor? Pretend to check on me so that you have the right words to comfort her later? Let me help you. When somebody chooses to out you, first it’s terrifying. Your heart pounds. Blood rings in your ears until eventually the shock settles in.”

She’d seen the exact moment it clicked for Bradley. When the world snapped back into focus with the eyes of the nation on Bradley and that ridiculous prank nose.

Laura continues, “Then it’s a bit easier to breathe but impossible to do anything else. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s lying down now. Staring at the ceiling, or the wall, or squeezing her eyes shut. She’ll get the strength to respond eventually. But the internet is there, so the tweets will find her before anything else does. Then her family, then whoever else has access. And regardless of how she responds, or the show does, she’ll spend the rest of her life aware that this is what happened, here, on your stage.”

He stiffens. “You were seen.”

“Seen what? Going into a hotel room? People do that. Particularly people who’ve interviewed each other and don’t want to talk about sensitive topics in the public eye. People can laugh and hold hands, but the moment a lesbian is involved, it’s a problem. It’s sensational. It’s the type of information that can change things.”

Change the conversation. Laura’s eyes widen as it clicks. This news would take the focus off of Hannah, off of TMS and UBA+ and Alex in Maggie’s upcoming book. This news would be enough to bury something.

Cory watches as Laura processes. He at least has the decency to meet her eyes. Her friend. Her boss. Her traitor. Then he blinks, and his smile is back like it never dropped. Brighter than before even.

He says, “I’ll check with Bradley. See how she wants to handle this. I’ll let you know.” He reels around, and that’s when a second click happens.

Yes, Cory could’ve done this for UBA. But he absolutely did it for Bradley. To tear her down and then scoop up the pieces. To save her in the way only her boss can. To ruin her and Laura before they had a chance to become untouchable. They won’t survive something like this, not alone, and Bradley won’t let them be together.

Laura has to fix this. She has to talk to Bradley. She can’t lose her, not yet.

.

.

read part two

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Black-Legged Meadow Katydid - Orchelimum nigripes

Earlier this week (on Tuesday's post), I posed the question, "What you do think will happen if a Katydid hears its own chirping played back to it?" Before doing so, I speculated three possibilities: The Katydid would either ignore the sound/do nothing, move towards the sound or move away from the sound. While anecdotal to this individual, I played the video of its singing back to this individual, and it moved toward the sound. How astonishing! Not only did our stridulating friend move towards the sound, it actively pursued it as I moved the phone through the foliage. It even leapt from stem to stem in order to pursue the source of the sound, its antennae pointing either upward or forward! This male only stopped briefly mid pursuit to stridulate once or twice, and then resumed chasing the phone. Once I stopped playback, the Katydid became still again and resumed its consistent mating call. It's likely that this Katydid pursued its own sound as it mistook it for a much louder rivalling Katydid intruding on its territory, hence the seemingly aggressive behavioral response. As it turns out, there have been multiple observations of Katydid-on-Katydid aggression for the securing of territory between males, particular among the Orchelimum genus!

When two loud, stridulating males find each other, some have reported that they will ward off each other with acoustic signals. If neither backs down, then both individuals fight to determine which singer is the subordinate via Bush-Cricket combat! Such a battle consists of the males trying to grapple each other, scrape at each other with their tarsal claws and bite any vulnerable areas, resulting in body damage, and outer wing/tegmina damage! The latter is particularly disastrous as calling a mate would become more difficult. For herbivores, this behavior is surprisingly vicious! The fight ends when a Katydid concedes and flees to another plant, while the victor can broadcast its song for all to hear. As such, our Katydid friend would have only moved away from the sound if the phone would have caused it harm, but that would never be the case. Moreover, while loud individuals fall into territorial disputes between rivals, silent males do not provoke louds ones, and are thusly allowed to pass. I would wager however, that some older males use this technique to their advantage and strike without provocation in attempt to secure a territory. Females are also silent, so they can pass through a loud male's territory unharmed, but of course the whole point of the singing is to attract a female. With sound, this can be done while bright or (in this instance) in the dark.

Although I had many fresh Mosquito bites as a result of these images, it was worth it to bring you this story and this knowledge. On a funnier note, as this individual was singing into the dusk, my ears were able to find it. However, it took my eyes a bit longer to catch up. It's all the more embarrassing as I was looking directly at it and didn't notice it. This is quite a handy crypsis to have, but other animals may be better suited to track via sound. Thusly, sometimes louder individuals draw the interest of predators as they stridulate. This is the equalizer that allows some quieter, subordinate Katydids to continue singing into the night.

Pictures were taken on August 24, 2024 with a Google Pixel 4. For another refresher on what a Black-Legged Meadow Katydid's song sounds like, you can check out this post as well.