#grips yr shoulders WHEN THEY WIN

[butchlifeguard]

AND I FEEL GOD IN THIS AMERICAN AIRLINES CENTER TONIGHT

[deeranon]

Chip and Tail | Aventurine X mer! Reader

Warnings: characters may be ooc, blood, body disfigurement(kinda?), implied killing, mention of Jade(who is a warning in and of herself), weapons,wounds, may contain grammar mistakes, use of it/it’s for living being(reader) leave if you don’t like or are uncomfortable with it, implied slavery, implied wars

Read at your own risk!

Despite use of it/it’s and they/their pronouns used for mer reader is whatever gender you wish

Mermaid, siren, and sea-daughter are seen as gender neutral terms—not gender specific in this story

The Showman swayed with the waves, creaking and groaning as foam crashed against the hull. The crew shifted restlessly, bodies tense as they shuffled around deck, waiting for even a word from within the Captain’s quarters. Never before had they stayed in one place on the ocean surface for so long, the pause casting unease within their ranks.

Gulls cried as they circled overhead, uncaring for what was going on within the heart of the ship.

“Did you shoot down an albatross or are you simply very unlucky?” Aventurine cooed as he shuffled his deck. Rings of gold and silver lined every other finger, shining haughtily underneath the sunlight as his black silk gloved hands shuffled the deck for the final round.

The captain of The Showman, a wiry and tall man with a full black beard seethed from on his plush velvet seat, face red with rage. “I ain’t unlucky. Yr’ just a cheater! Trying to trick me inta repayin’ my debt! I repaid you blithering sea-snakes ages ago!” He thundered, furiously slamming a scarred hand on the wooden table. Trinkets and pearly jewelry in the place of betting chips laid on the table trembled at the crash, falling to the floorboards miserably.

Aventurine gave no reaction to the man’s whining, smile only widening as he eyed the dark green coat his pirate opponent had obviously stolen from some unfortunate noble. “I’m afraid that’s where you are wrong. You simply think you repaid us.” Aventurine started with a casual shrug of his shoulders “Two years ago, you reached out to us—The Medusa, claiming you had enough money to rid you of your debt. A colleague of mine agreed to meet you at Sargentine’s one and only port city casino, yet when she got there…you were drunk beyond comprehension. You had gambled all of your savings away, just months before your payment was due. So close to freedom, too.” Aventurine gave the quaking captain a faux sympathetic look, tutting like a disappointed parent while dealing cards with practiced ease.

“Blasphemy! I worked my crew half to death getting all that precious cargo—I wouldn’t let it all go t’ some silly landfolk game!” He shrieked. The grip on his cards was paper white.

“You were quite drunk, I heard. Spent too much time at the brothel, perhaps?” Aventurine said with a chuckle. “But let’s get back to the point. I’m here because no matter how you spin it, you have payments to us that are overdue.” He straightened in his chair, smoothing out his perfectly pressed white silk shirt as the air grew thick with tension. “Now, you can try your hand at a game with higher stakes than your stolen jewelry and attempt to win your freedom, or I can simply evict you here and now for the murder of Cassidy White: late father of the Prince of Sargentine.”

The captain paled at Aventurine’s words, the hand of cards falling from his grasp in a shower of inked paper. His brown leather eyes widened with fear, staring down at him in shock.

Aventurine laughed heartily at the stupefied look, head thrown back from laughter as his eyes crinkled with mirth. “You think I didn’t recognize the embroidery on your fancy jacket? Cassidy White was a lover of the sea before he settled and married the current Queen of Sargentine. He had that coat custom made and wouldn’t go anywhere without it. It’s a shame you killed him on his ship, he sounded like the kind of guy I could talk with. Oh well, no crying over spilled milk I suppose.”

The captain paled even further if possible, gripping at his coat’s cuffs like a lifeline as realization dawned on him. The coat was a brilliant dark greenish-black color with blue leather cuffs and lapels patterned with golden ripples like the sea. Fancy gold trimming accompanied by a single thick rope covered the shoulder pads. Within the collar of the coat was the cursive signature of Cassidy White with the royal insignia of Sargentine emblazoned next to it. Aventurine would have had to be a complete fool to not recognize it immediately.

“Fortunately, you ended up with me: the Aventurine stoneheart to the Medusa. The Monetary Evaluation Department Underseers of Seaside Altercations if you didn’t know. I would say I’m a very generous man, so I will repeat to you your two options.” Aventurine raised a single finger “One, you win my game of Roulette and drop this sorry betting game with cards,” he raised another “Two, I kill you now and throw your entire crew into company custody for first degree murder on multiple occasions while on a ship given to you by Medusa. Taking all possessions to repay your debt. What do you say, captain?”

The boat groaned, singing with the waves as it swayed in place, the sound filling the vast room stuffed with stolen goods and currencies like music. Aventurine waited silently with a smile, one hand on the holster of his gun as the wiry man contemplated his choices.

That was the wonderful thing about the mother ocean. A man could only run the length of his ship before he could be caught. No land to hide behind, no trees or buildings to protect him. Only the vast ocean filled with more horrors than any sane man or pirate would dare to take a chance against. Trapping him with his own monsters until he touched earth.

After another moment of thinking, The Showman’s captain looked Aventurine in his glaring pink and blue eyes with steeled nerves and gave a grim nod. “One. I’ll win yer’ damn game.” He growled.

Grinning, Aventurine couldn’t help but disagree. “We’ll see about that. Fate works in mysterious ways.”

Taking his silver revolver from its holster, Aventurine loaded three bullets into the chambers before spinning the cylinder round and round until there was no possible way to know what it would shoot. “Any last words before we begin?”

The man spat at Aventurine’s face, a scowl forming on his dry lips. “Yeah. B’fore the loser dies, they reveal valuable information no one knows but themselves to the other. One less secret for you t’ take to yer grave when I shoot you where ya sit.”

“I can agree with that. But I highly doubt you’ve got a secret I think is good enough to spill on your deathbed.” The stoneheart said nonchalantly, twirling the gun in his hands with unnecessary flare before gripping it tight.

The captain, topped with the iconic pirate hat and a gnarly scar running down half of his bearded face stared at the gun as if his life depended on it. Because it did.

Aventurine never let his eyes leave the pirate, staring into the damned man’s soul for what would probably be the last time.

Bowing dramatically, one hand behind his back and the other cradling the gun, Aventurine rose and said “Got a coin we could flip? Winner shoots first.”

The ocean hissed at the pensive crew, water dark and stormy brewing. Twitching with unused power, the pirates grew antsy as time passed overhead, their leader yet to return or give them a single word of new news.

Paul, a stout man with one eye and a torn lip leaned against the heavy oak door. Ear pressed against the wood, he strained to hear anything through the door. He waited and waited for any sound, but it was dead silent on the other side.

Paul was ready to push away from the door when there was a muffled bang that echoed through the wood. A gunshot. It had to be. Paul knew that sound by heart.

Heart light, a grin broke out on his face as he turned to his crew mates. Jamming a thumb behind him, Paul mimed a gun firing with his other hand.

Hobbling away from the door, Paul snickered to himself as smiles and proud sneers broke out on everybody’s faces. Some even managed to let out chortles or snorts of sadistic laughter. The tension broke like a fickle stick to be added to the fire.

The captain of The Showman was not to be messed with. They had plundered and pillaged hundreds of ships and towns, a single man was nowhere near enough to stop him.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over.”

The crew froze, smiles shifting to frowns as they all stared in confusion at the blond man before them.

Aventurine gave a languid smile, waving a gloved hand covered in jingling bracelets and rings in greetings as he casually carried a long greenish-black coat over his shoulder.

“You’re not the captain.” Paul spat venomously, staring at the coat in Aventurine’s possession with disdain. The other crew members grumbled and hissed in agreement behind him, hands inching for their weapons.

“No, but his ship is mine now. And you lucky lot are under arrest. My sincerest apologies.” Aventurine said, unaffected by the crew drawing their swords and guns. Shoving a hand in a black pocket stitched into his pants, he withdrew a small pile of silvery blue dust.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The blond warned.

The rebellious crew froze immediately at the sight of the powder: Ground siren’s scales. A single sniff could knock a grown man out for weeks, and could even cause death and permanent paralysis in more serious cases. Aventurine had enough dust in his hand to kill the entire crew and then some.

The ocean crashed violently against the ship, as if sensing the presence of one of its lost children. Sea froth stained the floor of the vessel as it rocked back and forth violently. Aventurine adjusted his stance with ease while the seasoned crew struggled to gain their footing. The sea longed for the dust, calling for it desperately.

“Now, if you don’t want to end up with immovable limbs for the rest of your lives I suggest you stop resisting. The ocean is the perfect place to dump bodies and I’d prefer it if you didn’t make more work for me. Though if you’d like to jump now I’ll allow it, the ocean seems pretty finicky today. Maybe a nice snack will calm her.” Aventurine warned, holding the ground scales closer to the ocean and causing the ship to lurch so hard half of the crew fell onto their backs.

The few that remained standing sheathed their weapons, knowing well when they were outsmarted. Aventurine grinned, pocketing a good portion of the dust before reaching for the flare gun strapped to his right leg. With a single click, the flare sailed into the air for as long as it possibly could.

Like a cheetah suddenly leaping from the grassy savanna, a ship so large it made The Showman look miniature appeared in the distance. It fought against the crashing waves as it slowly approached, growing larger and larger the closer it came. The crew watched with slack jaws as the grandiose ship neared.

“Ah! There she is! The mighty Sigonius, my favorite ship.” Aventurine crowed, chest puffing with pride like a peacock flaunting it’s feathers. “Be thankful that you get to board the Sigonius before you are thrown in jail, ladies and gentlemen. It is a privilege indeed.”

The crew felt both annoyed and awed at Aventurine’s words. Annoyed at his flaunting, and dumbstruck that he could ever captain such a large ship. The Sigonius approached much faster than one would expect of a ship of such large size. Slowing to a stop, the gargantuan teal ship sent out a large metal bridge to connect both sea vessels together.

“Sorry, but lowly scum like yourselves aren’t allowed to see the insides of Medusa ships.” Taking his chance, Aventurine blew the dust straight into the heart of the Showman crew. One by one, they all crumpled to the deck like puppets freed of their strings.

In perfectly aligned rows, troops marched down the bridge and began casing the groaning ship. Weapons were confiscated and jewelry was gathered into crates labeled “perishables”. The workers swarmed the smaller ship like bees drawn to flowers, buzzing with activity wherever they went.

Deciding that his job was finished, Aventurine started to make his way to the bridge when the ship shook violently.

Dulled by the wood, a horrific spine crawling sound echoed from beneath the floorboards of The Showman. Workers paused to listen to the wail-like scream, stunned with shock and hit with unease as the sound continued.

Aventurine frowned, hairs standing on end and goosebumps rising along his arms. His heartbeat spiked the more the sound continued.

Suddenly it stopped, as if it had never happened in the first place.

Was that part of the secret the now deceased captain had told him about?

Turning to the nearest worker, Aventurine flashed a charming smile barbed with tebsion. “Take a team below deck and find out what made that noise, okay?”

“Yes sir.” The soldier nodded, saluting before marching off to rally a team.

With nothing left for him on the ship, Aventurine stepped foot on the Sigonius once again, heading straight for his private sleeping quarters. The ocean continued to riot against the small Showman, pummeling its sides and swaying it violently. At that rate, the ship only had a few hours until the tides capsized it. Hopefully the ship could be cleaned out before then.

As Aventurine was about to open the door to the hall, a keen shrill broke through the air and made the sailors cover their ears in pain. Quick to cover his own ringing ears, Aventurine staggered over to the railing of the ship—desperate to find out what was making the horrid noise. Even with both hands clamped tightly to the side of his head, his ears still dribbled with blood from the nauseating noise.

Searching with pain filled eyes, Aventurine scanned the waters between the ship for signs of monstrous life. Instead of finding a six headed beast or a pack of agitated Cyclas, Aventurine spotted a sizable hole torn through the wooden side of The Showman’s hull. Wood splinters drifted in the raging ocean along with thick fisherman netting twined with red string. An incredibly bad omen.

Oily black liquid stained the surface of deep blue sea, spreading out from the hole now starting to fill with sea water. The liquid dripped from the hull like wet paint, giving off such an intoxicating smell Aventurine was ready to believe that The Showman had raided a perfume store.

Holding his breath, Aventurine waited for the wail to sound out once again. Like clockwork, the piercing shriek pounded away at his ears determined to turn him deaf. Mind racing, Aventurine carded through his internal library of sea creatures at lightning speed.

Ink black liquid, enchanting smell, angry ocean, horrific screams, enough strength to bust through the hull of a Medusa ship, red string intertwined with fisherman netting: it was a mermaid. Possibly even a siren.

As if confirming his suspicion, another sorrowful scream shook the ocean and rocked even the mighty Sigonius. The netting Aventurine had thought to be simply drifting in the water now thrashed violently, the thick rope was black with the same oil colored liquid in the ocean. Furious waves crashed against both ships as the black substance continued to increase with each jerk of the hook and seal infested netting.

Blood. It was all blood.

“I want all men off The Showman immediately! There is a breach in the hull!” Aventurine roared when the scream trembled to a long whale like whine. “And get that mermaid out of the damn netting! They’ll drown us all if they don’t stop!”

Men still aboard the Showman scrambled to cross the shaking bridge while Aventurine ran for the lifeboat closest to the blood stained water. With no patience to wait for fellow sailors, he dropped the boat into the thrashing sea. It was never a good idea to stay between two large ships that could knock together and crush you at any time, but Aventurine was willing to take the risk if it meant stopping the siren from killing them all by accident.

Letting the water bring him closer to the net, Aventurine reached out and began to draw in the bloody rope as he sawed away with his hunting knife bit by bit. It tugged and jerked in his hands, threatening to send him beneath the waves multiple times, but Aventurine sat firm in the small boat.

The nets were endless as they were large, Aventurine cut as much as he could but more net seemed to replace it each time. Either this was a siren, or Aventurine was dealing with a very young and unhappy whale.

Sailors grouped in the other boats dropped into the sea around him, grabbing at the net and heaving with all their might. It was no use trying to cut the sea creature free, there was simply too much net to get through before the sea creature drowned them in a tidal wave.

They had to bring it aboard the ship.

The ocean raged endlessly, transpiring with the ravenous storm from above. Together both elements made even the Sigonius ship feel like it was capable of tipping.

To take a sea-daughter away from the water invoked the mother’s most powerful protective measures to ensure its child’s safe return.

The only way to calm the mother ocean was to return its daughter back to water. Every sailor and pirate worth their salt knew that one thing before agreeing to a life on the ocean. Himself included.

Aventurine only had one problem: there was no place to set the net swaddled mermaid on the Sigonius. Not naturally, at least.

Riffling through the previously locked drawers of the dresser planted against the wall of his sleeping quarters, Aventurine searched for his Favour. A magical sand-dollar that would build you a single non-living object if you set the evil or troublesome soul trapped inside of it free. Aventurine had come across it while strolling through the port market in a different country. A lucky find.

Since that day, he had kept the Favour tucked away for a moment like this one.

Having finally found the pitch black sand dollar, Aventurine made his way through the groaning ship to his office. A group of ten men kneeled before the mass of red twined netting covering the deck, wax muffles stuffed deep in their ears as the beast let out softer yet still ear rupturing cries. The group worked tirelessly to slice through the thick hook infested ropes, trying their best to not accidentally stab the hidden siren with their knives or dig the arsenal of hooks into its skin.

Aventurine paused, his head aching from the pain of the continuous crying. Raising his voice as loud as it could go, Aventurine yelled “Have the mer brought to my office when most of the nets are gone! I will take it from there.”

Only two men seemed to realize he had spoken over the shrill whale like noise the mer let out when a stray hook supposedly caught onto its body. They nodded, squinting at his lips but giving him two thumbs up before returning to their work. With the hope that the crew mates actually knew what Aventurine asked of them, he made his way to the office reserved for the captain of The Sigonius.

Pushing the heavy furniture around until it all stood grouped together in the middle of the room, Aventurine crushed the Favour without hesitation as the Sigonius rocked uncomfortably.

Red mist arose from the sand dollar, curling in the air like incense before it transformed into a giant angry cloud that whirled around the room. It writhed and shrieked, the horrifically deformed finned face pressing against the cloud harmonizing with the beast outside before coating the entire room in a thick scarlet mist.

Aventurine held his breath, elbow over his face as the red filling his vision deepened to a color reminiscent of dried blood.

The spirit gave a final wail from within the mist before throwing itself through the wooden walls to the ocean outside. A siren’s soul had been trapped inside, now free to drown sailors from beyond the grave of it so wished. Though Aventurine saw the trade as necessity as he stared at the object before him.

In place of the mist was a great tank that nearly reached the roof of the room, a rolling ladder made of iron connected to black railings attached along the outermost glass wall. The entire tank spanned three of the four walls, edges perfectly curved and inside wide enough for Aventurine to lay flat on his back and still not touch the walls. A kind of cement or rubber like object protected the wooden floorboards beneath, capable of protecting the room from leaks. Water a perfect blue hue filled the dull and empty tank, saving Aventurine a great deal of time.

With the addition of the tank using up a chunk of the office, Aventurine got to rearranging his desk and other equipment out of the way to the ladder before opening the door and waiting for the sailors to arrive.

It seemed like his words hadn’t been lost to the crew mates, now dragging a still entangled mermaid behind them. It’s screeching was like metal grating against clay, thrashing weakly as hooks poked through the now few layers of netting encasing it.

Aventurine nodded at the exhausted crew members. “Good. Help me get it in the tank, and then you’re free to rest.”

“Of course, captain.” One of the sailors agreed, bowing their head.

As a team, the tall and hulking sailors hoisted the mermaid, now limp from exhaustion or merely accepting its fate, into the water with a loud splash. Aventurine waved for the crew to leave from his position on the ladder, watching as the sea creature within started to squirm the moment it hit water. The ocean outside immediately started to calm, the rocking waves growing weaker by the minute.

The door closed with a satisfactory click as the last of the group left the room now colored in a blue light from the water blocking the stained glass window. The sun, now peeking out from the dying storm started to fall below the horizon.

Aventurine stared, waiting with bated breath for the creature to reveal itself. Tendrils of black blood spreading in the once pristine seawater thanks to its wounds. Except, there was no further movement. The mer did not slip out from the nets in a dramatic reveal of beauty like Aventurine thought it might. Nor did it leap out from the tank and tear his throat out in the span of a few seconds. It laid hidden within the blankets of bloody black fishnets, unmoving aside from the small rise and fall of (supposedly) its chest.

The mer had fallen asleep. Or was dying slowly from blood loss.

Either way, it would be pointless staying up to watch the (hopefully)sleeping mermaid. Aventurine had a ship to captain and a meeting to attend on land. Letting out a sigh, Aventurine left the messily arranged office locked behind him as he started a search for the night crew.

The Sigonius was now docked at a port owned by Medusa in the land of Pleyr-Tor. A merchant hub where only the wealthiest families of all species thrived. The ship was silent save for the grumbling crew as they heaved heavy boxes of food up the bridge and repaired injuries sustained by the Sigonius on their voyage.

Three days had passed since Aventurine stepped on solid land for the first time in four months. The sun was readying to descend when the captain finally returned to his ship.

Crew members watched silently as Aventurine stalked up the bridge with a lax smile, knowing full well what would happen if they disturbed him. Sailors parted like the blond was radioactive, forming a path for Aventurine to walk through all the way to the thick wooden door protecting the Captain’s office. The door opened and closed with a normal click that might as well have been a slam to the oldest members of the crew. If there were seasoned crew members left, that is. All had been lost to sea or let go to some other ship before they could ever form true bonds with their captain.

Locking the door behind him, Aventurine sank into his overly comfortable desk chair. The cedar wood table was littered with betting chips and papers for navigation and myths, debts to collect and which land to “assist” next. A single oil lamp placed in the top left corner, his only source of light on late nights. It needed replacing soon as it was having trouble lighting for the past few days. Aventurine made a note to himself to buy a better oil lamp while in Pleyr-Tor.

Hours passed in the blink of an eye as Aventurine worked away at the papers on his desk. His head ached from the constant smell of seawater, distracting him from any further work. Breathing out a sigh, Aventurine turned his chair around until it faced the large tank holding his underwater guest.

Madam Jade’s words rang in his ears, increasing the pain of his headache tenfold and causing the grip on his chair to increase.

Everything had a cost. Even freedom. No matter the race or situation. All debts must be repaid. Accidental or not.

Aventurine was not allowed to let the mermaid go.

Staring through the crystal clear glass, Aventurine watched as the sun slowly inched away from its low post in the sky. Down and down it went, painting the sky in yellows and pinks. Closing his eyes and letting himself soak in the fading sunlight until the sky turned a gentle purple, Aventurine did not catch when the once still mess of nets moved just slightly to the left.

“What should I do…” Aventurine muttered into his hand, glancing at the hidden mer within the still empty tank.

Perhaps that would soon change. If the mer lived, maybe sand and rocks of every color would brighten the dull cage. Seaweed could be taken from the ocean and planted for the slightest increase in privacy. Small fish to fill the void. Would the mermaid eat the fish? Hmm, maybe the fish could wait. Would the mer care if Aventurine added incense burners in the room to get rid of the seawater smell?

The nets, only two or four left, started to move. Aventurine snapped to attention, pushing away all his thoughts of decorating as he stood from his chair, knocking it over with a crash.

The ink black nets, large enough to easily capture Killer Whales, were jerked and pulled in every direction. Ropes started snapping one by one. Red twine floated in the water like bloody seaweed as the frayed strings broke apart.

Aventurine saw a faint flash of scales and a shadow of a hand slicing through rope from within. The creature, now awake and furious writhed underneath the netting. Blood matching the color of the night sky graced the dark blue water once again as hooks dug into flesh and scales. Water leapt out from the tank and onto the creaking floorboards below, staining them a dark brown.

The final rays of sunlight flickered below the window line and engulfed the room in almost total darkness. Slowly, Aventurine’s eyes adjusted to the dim setting. Blinking rapidly, Aventurine never let his gaze wander from the cloak of blood crusted fisherman netting even as his largest source of light sank beyond his vision.

There came a skin crawling trill from within the tank. It was clearer this time, the mer’s disorienting melodic voice humming with the water instead of its painful cries when above water. Goosebumps arose on his flesh in waves, hair standing on end the longer the call continued. The air, once warm and comforting was now colder than the winter ocean.

A clawed hand broke free from the nets.

Backing away on shaky feet, Aventurine turned to snatch the oil lamp from his desk while his heart started to beat louder than a drum in his ears. There was the muffled sound of nets continuing to snap and break from behind, the being writhing just beneath the surface. Water stained black fell to the floor around him, no less different than human blood when drying into wood.

Aventurine fumbled to light the lamp, pausing when there was a flash of blue light from behind. His heart went still and his mind raced, wondering if he truly had brought a killer siren onto his ship.

Face instinctually morphing into a calm smile, Aventurine turned around, lamp forgotten.

Eyes deeper than the midnight zone stared into his soul with pupils blown so wide the irises were barely visible. Fins flared with a rattling quiver as their lower body looped and coiled throughout the enclosure that almost seemed too small to fit their massive size. Lights flashed continuously along their skin and long, flowing tail. Aventurine couldn’t tell where one bioluminescent fin ended and another began in the darkness filled only by the light of the mer.

Claws sharp enough to pierce bone reached up and up and up until they touched the edge of the glass tank, unblinking eyes never leaving his form for even a moment.

Lips parting to let out a deep warble, Aventurine saw two sets of razor sharp canines peeking past their lips. The creature lifted itself up with only its arms until it reached out of the tank. Tail still curling in an endless spiral in the water as their upper half touched the wooden floorboards.

Instead of backing away for showing fear, Aventurine gave his best smile as he stepped forward, watching at their water logged hair splayed on the ground around them. “Y’know, you caused a lot of trouble for me. Sinking a ship I just finished taking over and having me loose valuable artifacts was quite rude of you. I deserve an apology, don’t you think?”

Their lips pulled back further than should be possible for a human, the flesh of their cheeks tearing in bloody strips until their rows upon rows of pointed teeth were revealed. Torn frills all along their body quivered angrily. Scales flashed in warning, a clear message to stay away or risk death. Letting out a chitter-like sound, the mermaid’s eyes narrowed as they continued to stare at Aventurine.

In the dark of night, Aventurine only had the dim glow of the mer’s scales to make out their towering figure. His mind more than happy to fill in the details he could not see.

He stepped closer, hands stuffed in his new coat pockets. Aventurine never was one to play safe. “Breaking through the hull of a ship like that must have caused some serious damage. I’m surprised you’re even standing right now. Tough cookie, aren’t you?” He said, tilting his head to the side as he willed his eyes to adjust better to the lack of light.

“You are quite the beauty, as well! What’s your secret? Let me guess…the flesh of sailors?” While laughing at his own joke, the mer continued to watch him with their hundred yard stare. The fins in place of human ears flicked at the sound of his voice, trembling softly.

“Oh it’s nothing, just an old pirate joke. You really are lucky that I was the one who came across that ship you were in and not one of the other Stonehearts. I doubt Topaz would find you cute enough to rescue.” Aventurine hummed, watching as the mer drew more of its body from the water. The sea-daughter was long—so long Aventurine couldn’t tell the length of their tail with how it had to circle around the entire tank and then some just to fit. Definitely more than a meter or two, that he was sure.

The mermaid’s clawed hand twitched as their smile widened. Tilting their own head to the side as their large eyes bored into Aventurine’s soul, a pale film covered them for a brief second as they blinked without proper eyelids. A clicking sound reminiscent of dolphins left their mouth instead of the horrific screech Aventurine was haunted by on the day he saved its life. Dagger sharp nails tapped against the bloodied and groaning wood rhythmically as the raspy clicking continued.

Aventurine paused as he listened to the mer’s clicks and taps, watching as they repeated the action over and over again. Clearly, they had yet to murder him via siren song or rip his arm off and use it as a snack to munch on after showing how easy it was to lift their own body over the glass wall like it was nothing.

What were they trying to say? Or were they saying anything at all?

“Can you even understand me?” Aventurine questioned, shifting on his feet. The mermaid, to its credit, looked thoroughly confused on it’s part. They let out a growlish “Buwerr?” And tilted their head further than should be safe for something that looked so human.

“I’ll take that as a no. A language barrier, huh? This is going to be interesting.” Aventurine muttered to himself, though he was sure the mermaid heard with how it’s fins twitched. It had good hearing.

The mer towered over Aventurine, face still broken and showing a concerning number of teeth with eyes eclipsed to a near completely black state. It was incredibly unnerving, especially since the only light was from their fluorescent fins and blinking scales. Not to mention they were covered in their own blood.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. All that dried blood can’t be comfortable, can it? We can discuss other matters later,” Aventurine said with a grin. His body easily fell into its masked routine, hiding the fear and uncertainty he felt and replacing it with confidence.

Fins flicking and scales blinking, Aventurine’s newest bet nodded. The mer shifted, jaw re-hinging and skin weaving back together over their cheeks until their face looked exactly like a human. Blinking with those filmy white eyelids, their pupils shrank and morphed into perfect replicas of human eyes—no, Aventurine’s eyes. He shivered involuntarily at the sight of eyes that mirrored his own as the mermaid changed itself to look like a deity among men for his own comfort. Or for it’s own comfort, which is more likely.

The mermaid chittered in a chipper tone, lips curling into a toothy smile. It had horrifyingly sharp teeth.

Yep, still a mermaid.

Holding out a now dainty hand the same colors as the sand, the mer waited with an expectant look. It’s tail swayed playfully in the water, sloshing seawater over the edge and onto the already soaked floor. When Aventurine did not take their hand, the mer made a tutting noise and retracted their arm back to their side. Their frills trembled and glowing scales blinked to a deep green before shifting to scarlet red, and finally a bright fuchsia.

They made a strangled animal sound, like an elk with a frog in its throat. Their lips obviously weren’t used to moving properly. They paused, scowling and fluttering their fins moodily before letting out an unidentifiable sound.

“Gr….grr..greetings.” Aventurine’s own distorted voice echoed back at him from the mermaid’s mouth. It huffed with pride, fins flicking in waves.

Ah, so it could mimic as well. How dandy.

Holding its hand out once again, the mermaid repeated the word twice over with lips un-synced from Aventurine’s copied voice.

Ah, so it wanted a handshake.

Chuckling, Aventurine said “Ah, I suppose we did skip over pleasantries,” he cleared his throat “I am Aventurine, a stoneheart of Medusa. Pleased to meet you. Use me as you wish, you can even stab me in the back if you want to—but I don’t make bets that don’t pay off.” Reaching out, Aventurine twined his fingers together with the mermaid’s. Hands palm to palm.

The mer stared down at him, gazing at their intertwined hand as their webbed ears twitched and titled, finely tuned to the pitch and exact tone of his words to break the barrier between their languages.

Shaking their held hand, the mermaid nodded with a smile.

Clicking and trilling, the mer drew words from the air to repeat a word still unintelligible to Aventurine even with the mimicry of his voice.

“Ah, the language barrier strikes again. How about I just give you a nickname instead? Just until we can find a middle ground.” Aventurine suggested with a shake of his head. His conscience weighing too heavily on his shoulders to handle a shrug.

“Yes…yes!” They sang, pulling Aventurine close to their chest as they circled around him like a boa. The mer nodded merrily, lights flaring to a rosy pink. Aventurine pulled his hand away, adjusting his glove as he pondered.

“Well, it has to be fitting—but not too odd. Since we’ll be together for quite a while it should have some kind of meaning behind it, don’t you think?” Aventurine went on as he craned his head upwards to look into the mermaid’s curious eyes. They nodded sagely, fins attentive as they licked their salty lips.

Aventurine slowly listed name after name, watching for a change in the mer’s expression. Eventually the mermaid returned to the water from pure disinterest in the names, holding him steady as they forced him to sit on the highest stair of the ladder.

The mer looked ready to drift underneath the water by the time Aventurine was starting to run out of names. Grasping at his last few ideas, Aventurine hesitantly listed the last name that came to mind. Your name.

Erupting from the water, your hands grabbed at Aventurine’s shoulders as you both fell back into the water like whales breaking from the ocean for air.

“Perfect!….YES! YES!NAME! YES, NAME!” You shrieked joyfully, tail crashing in the water as you literally lit up with glee. “MY NAME NOW! EVER!”

“Alright! Alright! That’s your name now! Glad you like it.” Aventurine sputtered, dragging his soppy wet blond hair away from his wide eyes as he floated in your tank. You circled around him in a never ending spiral, chittering and trilling with a smile so large Aventurine thought your mouth might just split open again.

Swimming to the edge, Aventurine stared into your bright eyes when you met him at the rim.

You reminded him a lot of himself when he was young. Aventurine didn’t know how much he liked that fact as he watched you twirl in the water without a care in the world.

Aventurine called your name and you paused, eyes a carbon copy of his own staring back into his soul and touching something he thought was buried the day he lost his family during the tribal wars. “…Don’t ever let Medusa tie you down, okay? This stupid organization doesn’t need to ruin any more races.”

Your fins twitched at his words, blinking to a deep blue lighting. “Stoneheart…Medusa,” You parroted with worry. “Aventurine…tie..”

“Hmm, no—forget I said anything. We can talk about all that later. If you’ve already forgotten, you are still pretty injured. So let’s focus on you getting better for now. We’ll have all the time in the world to talk later.” Aventurine huffed, patting your head with a bare hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Neither are you, is what Aventurine chose to leave unsaid.

@idkfitememate merry Christmas!! 🎁🎄 here’s your present!

@kaitsawamura made the scale divider! Thank you!!

[evermorebarbie]

“Let’s go pearl hunting in the Summer Court!” Elain was bursting with excitement and Lucien found himself unable to refuse such a request. ☺️🥺💜

Elucienweek

Day 7: Free Choice (also this prompt is adorable and at some point I'd love to write them actually pearl hunting. Can we imagine Lucien's face at Elain in bathing suit. He'd lose his mind)

Elain took to the stairs two at a time, clutching a book in her arms, wishing she could winnow. Winnow would get her to their rooms faster than her two legs. Not even fae speed seemed fast enough. Currently it was her only method of travel. Thought the thought of tugging on her bond to bring Lucien to her did cross her mind. It mattered not. She was almost there anyway. In fact, Elain had reached their floor. The only thing in her way now was the long hall and a door of course. Bundling her skirts in her hand and the book, A guide to the Summer Court in another, she rushed down the sunlight path with excitement in her heart.

Reaching the door, Elain shoved herself through slamming it shut. Lucien nearly fell out of his chair at her arrival. “Do you know how to swim?”

He looked at her in disbelief. He made a noise between a laugh and a huff. “Do I know how to swim? Yes?”

Her nose scrunched up tilting her head. “That doesn’t sound confident.”

“I’m over 350 yrs old Elain.” he deadpanned. “ I promise I can swim.” He placed a pen he was holding down on a desk. Folding his arms over, crossing his stretched out legs. “Why are you asking?”

"Because..." she replied in a singsong voice. A smiled so wide all her teeth showed. Sharp cheekbones rose in delight as she flipped the book in her hands towards him. “THIS!”

Lucien tucked a curled fist beneath his chin, squinting at the title on the book in hear hands. “A guide to the summer court.” their eyes met. “You want to go swimming at the summer court? There are springs and lakes throughout the Day Court love. We don’t have to travel far.”

Elain spun the book around, thumbing the pages until she found the right one. Elain crossed the distance settling in his welcomed lap. Instinctively, Lucien curled an arm around her waist, his chin settling on her shoulder as he read the words off the page the illustrations of oysters and muscles and pearls.

“Pearl Hunting!” she exclaimed. Turning to look at him with childlike joy. His heart nearly melted at how giddy she was about this. The second he felt her joy through the bond he knew whatever it was she discovered was an automatic yes. For Elain, for the woman who taught him he was more than deserving of her love and his real father’s love anything that made her this ridiculously happy would be hers. “Let’s go pearl hunting in the Summer Court!”

“Hmmm…” he plucked the book from her hands. Studying the words as if it were some text in another language. “You know...now that you mention the Summer Court, I do have business there.”

"Really?" A spark glowed brightly in her eyes turning to face Lucien. She smiled. Warm and bright like the sun itself. His heart swelled at her elated expression. Then she watched him with suspicion. “What business?”

He shrugged. “Special mate gift.”

Her eyes turned into slits. “Uh huh. What are you hiding?”

Lucien nodded towards the book left abandoned on the desk. “Where did you find this?” then back to Elain who still watched him with a slight wariness. He could draw this out if he wanted to. Cauldron he should’ve put the book back on the shelf when he was finished and not on the table where clearly anyone that was curious would find it.

“The Library.” He shot her a look that said obviously but where. Elain rolled her eyes. “On a table in the back. There was a page marked…” she trailed off lost in thought.

The page was the pearl hunting. Lucien had a special gift in the Summer Court. Sneaky bastard. She tried to give him a flat look but her excitement won out. Elain grasped his face, her mouth crashing into his with such force, Lucien gripped the chair to steady them so they didn’t fall backwards. Once they were stable. His arms wrapped around her, hands splayed on the swell of her back. She laughed, breaking the kiss. The sound radiating from her like she were the sun and her laughter the sunrays that warmed his skin.

“I saw the book. Read it before but seeing it I remembered about the pearl hunting. Worked my oh so charming magic and secured us a private pearl hunting experience. So when do I win the best mate award?”

Elain reached for the buttons on his tunic. “I say now.” and her mouth was on his again.

elucienweek taglist: @ladyvanserra @helion-ism @firestarsandseneschals @thecrownlands @rarephloxes @elucienweek @nestaisgod

[forever-more-never-again]

Make Me Feel Something (A Natasha Request)

Requested: Anonymous

Pairing: Platonic!Bruce X Reader, Platonic!Avengers X Reader, Natasha X Reader

Word Count: 3254

Warnings: Death mentioned, depression mentioned, swearing, pain

Request: Hey! Great writing! Can you do a platonic Avengers x reader (eventually), Nat x reader (eventually), platonic Bruce x reader: R can instill varying degrees of pain with a thought (physical, mental, emotional etc) but only Bruce knows about their ability. Like Bruce, R believes that isolation/being closed off is the best way to avoid harming ppl. Maybe R’s power manifested in form of self defense when R was being hurt yrs ago but they felt like a monster afterward. Team just wants to understand.

Masterlist

You were sure there was a better way to live. But for now, this was the way you chose to survive. To prevent yourself from causing unnecessary pain and fear.

“[Y/n], where are you?” The familiar sound of your best friend’s voice made your lips quirk up in a small smile.

“Here Bruce!” You yelled out from your corner in the dark room.

Bruce Banner, otherwise known by his split personality, as Hulk. He was the only one who truly understood your need to live isolated.

Being able to inflict pain without even a thought was terrifying enough for you. The public didn’t need to know about it as well. If they did, there would no doubt be a mob of angry civilians calling for your permanent imprisonment of death.

After all, being a torture telepath was nothing to be in awe of. You could induce varying degrees of pain, whether it be physical, like making a person's leg snap in half, or mental, making a person become temporarily insane, it was not pleasant.

Bruce turned on the light switch of your cell and you had to squint as the artificial light hit your eyes for the first time in a few hours.

“How long have you been in the dark, [Y/n]?” Bruce’s voice slid into his therapy voice without thinking and you rolled your eyes as you walked up and bumped shoulders with him.

“No therapy today Doc. Come on, what’s up?”

You jumped up onto the counter that was pushed up against a brick wall of your cell and swung your legs back and forth.

Yes, you lived in a cell. You preferred it. You had met Bruce when he had first had the accident with the Gamma Rays and had helped him with coming to grips of his new reality with the Hulk in his head.

But then it was his turn to help you when your mutation reared its head after a car accident killed your entire family and left you with extraordinary abilities able to inflict pain and fear in other people.

He tried for the longest time to get you to join his group of the Avengers. But you never wanted to be in the limelight before your mutation, you had actually wanted to just be a housewife, and then with your mutation you definitely didn't want people to fear you.

But you had convinced him to move you to the Avenger tower. Now you lived underground, with none the wiser of who you were. In a cell designed by Bruce that limits your telepathic abilities.

“Well, the team is getting really antsy. They want to know why I keep disappearing. You might have to come out of hiding soon [Y/n].”

You growled low in your throat, Bruce for a moment showing fear reflected in his Hazel eyes, and you stopped immediately, face flushing in anger as you turned your face away so you didn't have to see it.

“YOu know why Bruce. You know why I can’t ever leave this place. It’s either stay in this cell or be dead. I can’t let anyone control me. What I can do….It’s not natural and its dangerous if in the wrong hands.”

Bruce sighed, running a hand down his face. You turned to look back at him, and instead of fear now, there was empathy in his eyes.

“[Y/n]...you were the one who once told me that I can’t run from who I am all my life and that I would have to learn to grow and accept the new part of me that I had become. Don't you think it's time for you to follow your own advice?”

You sulked, glaring at Bruce as he flung your words back in you face. “But Bruce..”

He interrupted you, raising a hand to cut you off, “No! No more excuses [Y/n]. You haven't hurt anyone in years. And you won't learn to control your powers unless you use them and train. So you will leave this cell tomorrow or so help me I will let the Hulk out to drag you out.”

You chuckled, trying to smother your smile with your hand to no avail. You knew it was an empty threat, Bruce would never purposely let the Hulk out. But it did make you realize that he really did care and that you needed to socialize and learn to become part of society again.

“Alright Bruce. Tomorrow I will introduce myself to your little ragtag family of supers.”

Bruce smiled as he opened the cell and let himself out, “That’s all I ask for.”

You jumped off the counter and sauntered over to your small dresser. Pulling out various outfits, You stood undecided on what would be appropriate for your first social interaction with someone other than the Nerdy Bruce Banner.

Finally, you sighed and settled on a pair of jeans and a blank black t shirt.

You stood in front of your mirror and what stared back at you was a stranger.

Your [h/c] hair was dulled and your [e/c] eyes had a haunted look in them so deep that you had to look away.

“I miss you so much.” When you had turned your face away you had inadvertently faced the wall that was  shrine to the family you had lost in the accident.

Pictures filled the wall. Of family camping trips, birthdays, and just lazy days around the old house.

Tears filled your eyes as you walked up and traced a finger over the faces of people you had lost years ago.

“I miss you so much Mom...Dad...Sis.” The tears broke through the dam and fell in silent waterfalls down your cheeks as you collapsed onto your knees, face pushed against the pictures as your body shook with the force of your pain.

It was hours later when you stood back up and wiped your face.

Taking a deep breath you fell backwards onto your cot and stared up at the ceiling, counting down the time until Bruce returned.

When he did, you were ready and extremely nervous.

Your first step out of the cell in over three years. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, you went for it and stepped through the door.

“I’m proud of you [Y/n]. First step down.” Bruce smiled, wrapping a comforting arm around your waist as you began to breath frantically, rubbing your arms as you attempted to calm your thoughts and control yourself so that you didn't accidently lash out.

Bruce led the way up to the main floor lobby. Ignoring the questioning looks you got from civilians and secretaries milling around, you let Bruce guide you into an elevator.

“FRIDAY, please take us to the common room and call the group together.”

An automated females voice rang through the small box, “Of course Dr. Banner.”

You jumped at the voice, “Who's there!?” Bruce frowned, tugging you closer to him, “It’s just an AI. Tony created FRIDAY and she is hooked up to the tower. Don’t worry, she wont hurt you.”

You let out a sigh, “I’m not worried about anyone hurting me. You know that Bruce. Its the other way around.”

Bruce sighed, “I know, sweetie. But it will be okay. You need to live your life. And Staying in that cell is not good for you.”

You felt angry hot tears push against your eyes, but you closed them and pushed the emotion away, “Bruce...it would have been better to die with my family.”

Bruce looked away, knowing he wasn't going to win the argument. The same argument you and him had been having ever since you woke up in the hospital and upon learning that your entire family had been killed on impact, proceeded to cause such a huge telepathic wave of emotional pain that nearly half of the hospital staff was institutionalized from intense episodes of depression and insanity.

The elevator ride went on in silence before dinging and opening the doors to a lavish room.

You walked out in trepidation as you surveyed the gold and blue decor. Floor to ceiling windows covered an entire room and in the middle of the giant room was a couch and beanbags.

Sitting on those beanbags, was Earth’s mightiest heroes.

“Hey Bruce! Who you got there?” You recognized the voice of the millionaire playboy, Tony Stark.

He strutted over with a glass of champagne in his hands even though it was barely noon and swung an arm over Bruce’s shoulder that wasn’t hooked around your waist.

Bruce let go of you to rub the back of his neck as he flushed a slight pink at Tony’s display of affection.

“Guys, I want you to meet my friend, [Y/n].”

You scanned the room. Trying to put the names that Bruce often spoke of, the faces.

Bruce walked up and pointed as he spoke, “That’s Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Rhodey, Sam Wilson, and where’s Wanda and Vision and Natasha?” He asked Tony.

Tony hiccuped, “Wanda and Vision are on a recon mission and Natasha said she was going to train for a few mins.”

Bruce sighed, but gestured for you to go forth and talk to people.

Despite your fear, you tried to put on a brave face and walked over to Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes first.

“Hello...I’m [Y/n].” You waved self consciously at the two beefed up super soldiers.

Steve smiled, his blue eyes bright with warmth. “I’m Steve. Bruce spoke often of you, but I thought we would never get to meet you. It’s been years of listening to him ramble about you.”

Bucky smirked, his brown eyes flickering past you to Bruce and Tony and back to you, “Are you two ‘Just’ friends then?” He said suggestively.

At that you let out a loud laugh, “Oh hell no!” You said between gasps of laughter., “Just friends.” You affirmed, looking Bucky in the eyes intensely. “I swing for the other team.” You said, with a wink.

Poor Steve stood there with a confused look as Bucky coughed out with a laugh. “Like, the Bronx team?” He said.

That was all it took to push Bucky over the edge as he struggled for breath, falling onto the floor as the laughter caused tears to spring to his eyes.

You walked away with a smile, leaving Bucky to explain to Steve why he was laughing so hard.

You stood off the edge, watching everyone mingle, when you saw her.

She was gorgeous as she walked into the room. In a black sports bra and shorts, sweat glistening off her face and abs. Her red hair sashaying down her back as she walked past the living room and into the kitchen.

“Close your mouth you thirsty hoe.”

You turned and glared at the blond next to you who spoke, “Clint. I’m sure.” You growled.

The man smiled, his head tilting like a lab dog’s as he stuck out a hand for a shake, “Pleasure to meet you [Y/n]. I saw you thisting after Natasha there.” You turned to look through the doorway she had exited as your heart race increased, “That was Natasha?” You asked, voice slipping low as your libido took control.

Clint smirked, “Yup. You should go introduce yourself.” He shoved you in the direction of the kitchen.

Although you glared at him, you walked into the kitchen and found Natasha rifling through the fridge.

“Umm… Hi.” You mentally face palmed yourself at your articulate introduction.

Natasha spun with a water bottle in her hand, flashing a megawatt smile in your direction, “Hello. You must be [Y/n].” She unscrewed the top and you watched in awe as she took gulps from the bottle. Watching her throat work as some of the water dribbled from the corner of her mouth and slide down between the valley between her chest.

Suddenly your mouth was extremely dry and you struggled to swallow and speak as she put the bottle down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Uhh.. yes,” You coughed, “That’s uhh, me. I’m friends with Bruce. But not that kind of friend!” YOu panicked as you thought of what Bucky thought being friends meant.

Natasha laughed and you swore angels were singing from the heaven as the sound trilled through the air.

“I never thought you were. Bruce is obviously over his head with Tony.”

You thought back and had to chuckle, it was obvious now that you thought about it. The amount of times Bruce trailed off mid sentence when talking about Tony, staring into space with a dreamy look in his eyes.

“So [Y/n], how did you meet Bruce? Why now are you agreeing to come to the tower?” Natasha asked, reaching up into a cupboard for an apple.

You shrugged, leaning against a counter, arms crossing, “He convinced me to come out of the cage I locked myself into.”

Natasha cocked her head, but smiled and you knew she thought you were speaking metaphorically.

Suddenly there was a scream from the main room. Natasha and you shared a look of panic as you both raced out of the kitchen.

Entering the room you were shocked to see the Hulk standing in the center of the room. He roared and the windows rattled as his fists slammed onto the ground, “Hulk Smash! Puny Human!” He screamed at Tony.

Tony was sprawled on the ground, his eyes wide as he looked up at the green man.

“Tony! What happened!?” Natasha shouted.

When Tony didn't answer, she turned to Steve.

“Bruce asked Tony out and Tony thought he was joking. Said that the day he went out with a man was the day he died!”

You groaned, putting your head in your hands.

“Tony! You absolute buffoon!” Natasha yelled.

Tony craned to look at her, “I was joking! But Hulk got pissed at me!” He turned back to Hulk who smashed a couch into bits as he huffed and snorted angrily at Tony, “Buddy, let me and Bruce talk this out, okay?” He tried to plead, raising his hands placating from his back sprawled position on the ground.

Hulk screeched and smashed his fists on either side of Bruce in anger.

“Hulk! Stop it right this instant!” You ran up and placed yourself protectively over Tony, arms crossed as you stared Hulk down.

“[Y/n][! What are you doing!?” Steve yelled out from across the room.

You didnt turn away from your glare stare down with Hulk as you responded, “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

Then you spoke to Hulk, “Don’t make me hurt you buddy. I need Bruce back before you destroy this place. Okay?”

Hulk huffed at you, “Puny human hurt puny Bruce! Hulk wants to smash him!” He roared, bringing his fists back to the ground. The tower shook with the force and Steve yelled as he and Bucky ran to grab their weapons.

Natasha inched closer, [y/n]...what are you doing?” She whispered.

You sighed, shaking your head, “I’m a mutant. I didn’t want to have to do this...but..I’m sorry. I can't control it well enough to turn it to a single person, so you will feel this too.”

“Feel wha..?” Her question trailed off and turned into an agonized scream as she fell to the ground, shaking.

Hulk struggled to stay standing, but eventually, the amount of emotional pain you were inflicting on him, caused him to stumble and collapse, slowly the green fading away to show a shaking Bruce Banner.

Abruptly you stopped the flow of pain and dropped to you knees, sobs shaking your body as you babbled, over and over again, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry!!!”

You were unaware of your surroundings as the sound of your sobs and words flowed over and engulfed you.

Eventually you were pulled out by the sensation of warm arms encircling you and a head resting on your shoulder.

Sobs slipping into hiccups, you opened your eyes enough to see red hair cascading in your line of sight.

“Nat?” You asked, your voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry!” You cried, standing up and stepping away from her, wrapping your arms around yourself, averting your gaze from her.

Belatedly, you realized that everyone else was gone from the room.

“Hey, [y/n], there’s nothing to apologize for. Bruce is thankful you stopped him before he could hurt tony. And they are talking thongs out calmly.” Natasha spoke, slowly inching closer to you, as you took just as slow of steps backwards away from her.

“How can you stand to be in the same vicinity as me!? All I do is bring pain!” You cried out, turning to run back to your cell, where you felt safe.

Before you could, you were tackled to the ground from behind.

You stared up, in shock, as Natasha straddled your waist, sitting on top of you.

She glared down at you, “You have nothing to be sorry for! I will stay beside you because you are stronger than you know, [Y/n].”

You were still in shock, and couldn’t speak. As she went on, “Everyone left after Bruce calmed down, he was going to take you back to your little ‘cell.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but she placed her hand over your mouth, “Yes, he told us about how you have been living right under our noses for years now. And all about your family and your abilities. So...no one blames you for what happened.”

You shook your head from under Natasha’s hands, your eyes filling with tears.

She let her hand up off your lips and you immediately started spilling words, “I’m so sorry. I should have died with my family. The abilities I have only bring pain. I could break every bone in your body if I wanted to with a single thought..”

Your words were cut off by Natasha’s mouth crashing onto yours.

Your eyes widened before closing as your lips worked against hers, the scent of vanilla enveloping you and bringing you peace.

You forgot about everything except for the weight of Natasha on top of you and the silk of her lips as they delved into your passion.

When she finally broke apart for air, she gazed deep into yours eyes, “You are so strong and amazing [Y/n]. No more hiding. Because I want to explore this connection we have more.”

You smiled up at her hesitantly, a hand coming off the floor to lan at her hip, “Only if you kiss me like that again.” You teased.

Natasha threw back her head with a laugh before descending on your lips once again.

You broke it apart this time, looking up at the woman on top of you, “You make me feel something more...more than pain and fear and anger and sadness.”

Her fingers swept the stray tear off your cheek before kissing the spot, “You will learn to control your abilities [Y/n]. I promise.”

You sat up, keeping Natasha on your lap, eliciting a squeal of surprise from her.

“Now, I think we need to find everyone else, before they suspect something hanky panky going on in here.” You laughed.

Natasha gave you a sly smirk, “Would that be so bad?”

You laughed, feeling freer than you had in a long time, “I guess not.”

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @littlestfangirl @rainydaysrnevergrey @not-jk-rowling @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @mcuimxgine @mythixmagic

Natasha Taglist:

@ludwigvonbaethoven @hanjiscience-slut @kitten-q-p @morbid-gaymer @honeybadgerwhodoesntcare @sunnyandtwisty @zoeyknight @kurlyafro @thewomanofwonder @5aftermidnight

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc

[writeanapocalae]

Sight for Sore Eyes Chapter 2

Part 2 of my Iris fic for @chibi--raiden. Part 1 can be read here. Warnings for gross eye stuff

The hallway was a twisted corridor of flesh, red and dripping, pulsing like an artery. If it weren’t so dry on the inside he would have believed that they were inside of one. They still could have been. There were only a few things that made it seem like it was traversable at all, the black and white tiles, and a series of photos on the walls. They didn’t look like Stefano’s usual work, they weren’t composed as such, they weren’t as surreal, they looked more like they were just candid shots in cheap frames.

Sebastian didn’t have enough time to look at them, to study them seriously. Iris was in his arms and he was terribly heavy, far heavier than he had any right to be. He was curled up, his chest still healing, and his constantly dripping face was buried into Sebastian’s chest. He was shaking, trembling, slightly, and Sebastian wasn’t sure if that was from pain, sorrow, or if it was just something that Iris did.

He had to take a break though and he slid to the floor, holding Iris close to him. Iris shifted against his chest, grumbling something, but Sebastian couldn’t catch what it was. It was just that Iris was so heavy. He wasn’t in the best of shape, even though he’d quite smoking he was still drinking, heavily, and he wasn’t running around that much after criminals when he was fired from the force. He just wasn’t in shape.

Sitting there though, with Iris against him, he was able to see the photograph on the opposite wall. It was of a man, bound to a table, screaming, his back arched. He could see the shadow of another over him, a knife in hand, a terrible and wicked curved blade. The man’s chest had been cut open and, while there were organs spilling from it, dyed in bile and blood, they were being replaced with rebar and clay. There was no way that someone could survive that. There was no way someone would want to.

“What the fuck is wrong with this guy?” Sebastian growled.

Iris shifted in his hold. “We… we’re not… m-movng...”

“Just a little break,” Sebastian soothed, running his hand through Iris’ hair. As long as he stayed toward the back of his head, away from his face, Iris seemed to enjoy it, it seemed to calm him. “You’re heavier than you look.”

---

It was so good, to have someone touching him. He almost didn’t mind that they weren’t moving, that the man was just sitting there and touching him. He couldn’t remember anyone holding him like this, touching him like this. Even Stefano, regardless of what activity they had been participating in, would just hold him. It was usually that they would go through with something and then Stefano would relish in what they had created and forget about him soon after. He didn’t mind. He got to see a genius at work.

He got to see everything that Stefano could make, whatever he could think of. He was a part of something amazing.

He could feel the man shift beneath him, could feel it in the rippling holes in his chest, the ones that were still healing. He was looking around, was trying to see something. Iris knew where they were, even though the place didn’t have a name. He knew what the stranger was looking at. He hated it, he hated knowing. He didn’t him to know, didn’t want him to judge. He didn’t want to have to explain.

He didn’t want to remember.

---

Iris sighed, “Yr look-ing...”

Sebastian slowed slightly. “What?”

“...Pishurs...”

Sebastian glanced back up at the picture across from them. He didn’t really want to look at it though. There was too much happening, too much gore, too much damage. “Yeah, I guess. You know what’s happening in them?”

Iris nodded but wouldn’t say.

“Stefano’s sick, you know that, right? What he’s done to people, what he’s doing to people, it’s wrong, it’s abhorrent.” He could feel rage starting to build in him, hardening his voice. He could feel Iris stiffen in his arms. He didn’t deserve Sebastian’s anger. Sebastian didn’t know what he deserved, but he was so broken, so fragile, even though he wasn’t human anymore, that Sebastian felt a horrible need to protect him. “He needs to be destroyed.”

---

No. No, he didn’t understand. He was assuming things from those images. He was trying to put things together but his information was all wrong, his perspective was skewed. Stefano had mentioned that this man didn’t appreciate his art and now Iris knew that was true. It was more than not appreciating, it was a complete denial at the beauty of Stefano’s ideas and a disgust at the good that he was doing.

He wasn’t sick. He was intelligent and awe inspiring and most magnificent being that Iris had ever met. He had been obsessed with the concept of seeing, of being a part of Stefano’s art. He couldn’t have been wrong in that desire, could he? He didn’t want to think so. He had suffered so much, just for a chance. The man could see his suffering, knew exactly what he had gone through for such a chance. But he didn’t understand it.

He had to explain, he had to get him to know what the point of it all was. This was why Stefano had wanted him dead. Not only had he not approved, he had destroyed some of Stefano’s work. Iris couldn’t explain it, his mouth wouldn’t work with him. He had to make the stranger appreciate it. He had to remove the agony from the images, had to get him to see that it wasn’t monstrous, that it wasn’t as much pain as he assumed that it was. It had been agony, but it had been worth it. It had to be worth it.

He couldn’t stand the idea of it not being worth it.

---

“Ast… fr it...” Iris whimpered.

“No, no one would ask for that, no one could want to ask for that,” Sebastian could feel the tension in Iris’ shoulders, could feel him trying to bury himself further into Sebastian’s chest, trying to hide more. There was no where to go though, not when he was still cradled in Sebastian’s arms, in which Sebastian wouldn’t find him. Then he realized why Iris was trying to hide and he held on tighter, feeling the rage shift but still rise as he tightened his grip on Iris. “You did. That’s you, before. Why would you ask for that? Why did you let him do that to you?”

---

He could feel an anger burning inside of him, starting to lash out. The man was treating him like a child, just like so many others had. He knew that he was delicate, he knew that there were many things that he couldn’t do one his own, but Stefano had fixed that. Stefano had made him better. He wouldn’t have taken it back, the procedure, not for anything. Even though it had been agony, it had given him the ability to see and that was the one thing that people had treated him like he was a defenseless mewling babe for.

He was tired of people holding his hand, of people deciding things for him. He was tired of being treated as lesser. He could do just as much as anyone else.

And he hadn’t just let Stefano do that to him, he had done more than asked for it. He had begged him for it. He had demanded it. There was no where in this in which he was a victim. He was stronger than this man could even imagine.

---

Iris was changing, those long tendrils peeling off of him once more, splitting off of him, not just his arms, but his back and legs as well. For a long while he didn’t say anything, he just clung to Sebastian and fell apart, the tendrils getting thicker and more menacing. Sebastian didn’t know what they were, nor what they represented, but they couldn’t have been good.

He forced himself to calm down, to speak slowly, speak kindly. “I’m not blaming you, not for anything. I’m just trying to understand. Could you help me understand?” He ran his hand down Iris’ arm, smoothing some of the wet tendrils back against his arm, where it wriggled before lying flat against his skin.

---

He couldn’t, he couldn’t let it out. The man just didn’t know, didn’t understand. He was treating him like this because he was hurting, not because he was weak. He didn’t know what Iris had gone through to get to this point. He didn’t know that Stefano had saved him.

He just had to come up with the words. There were so many of them. His throat wasn’t good at making sound, his mouth wasn’t good at forming words. He’d screamed himself too raw, had damaged himself too much.

Perhaps he was fragile after all.

---

“Hard… hard to... say...” Iris admitted. “No… eyes. Blind… fr so… long… he said… he-he cud… hlp me… gf me… eyes…”

Sebastian shushed him with soft lips against his filthy scalp. It didn’t explain why he was dressed like Stefano, why he looked and held himself so much like him, but it explained some things.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sebastian wanted to tell him that it was okay to be blind, that no one thought him any less for it, that there was no reason for him to change himself for sight, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know Iris’ reasons. He could tell that seeing was something very important for Iris, even if he couldn’t understand it, and because of that, he couldn’t say what was too far to go for it.

---

The man sounded like he was mourning something he didn’t even know about and Iris could feel himself sliding into it, into that grief. He wanted to express himself, wanted to make art like Stefano did, but all he held inside of him was anger and sorrow. The sorrow was winning though, at the moment. He had to be careful. If he let it take over too much, he wouldn’t be able to hold onto himself.

He could hear something. He could feel his body changing, but the sound in the distance triggered him to respond, for his body to start to shift and change. There was no pain in this change, in his body shifted and forming what he needed. And he needed to see.

And then he saw her.

---

Iris was stiff though, still, and there was a large bulge growing from his shoulder. Most of the tendrils had settled back down but not here. It was like a large bubble of black tar, tendrils growing around it and then the bubble popped, slipping open in a slow and gooey way to reveal a bright blue eye, flashing as it looked around the hall.

“Shit,” Sebastian hissed.

“Go...” Iris was rasping, clutching at Sebastian’s shirt as he pulled himself up against his chest, to make sure that Sebastian could hear him. “Jst. Just… run...”

Sebastian didn’t know why Iris was commanding him so until he was half way to his feet once more, finding it hard to pull himself up while carrying someone so heavy. He grunted and groaned, feeling his back protest, the muscles as well as the deep gash. Then he heard he laughing.

“Shit!” Sebastian repeated, louder this time, and he started to move, ignoring Iris’ complaints. They were rushed and breathy and he could hardly hear them anyway and he didn’t care what they were, the first one was right. They had to move, they had to go. He had to run.

---

Guardian. That was what Stefano had named her. Iris had been there when the first of them was made, and she was such a sight to behold. She didn’t have any of his set backs, had no reason to hesitate or wait. This was not her though. This was one of the copies, just a secondary print of the first one. She had learned, had come to understand her place in the world, and had begun to make copies. Stefano had been so pleased by her power, her joy, he excitement. And they were needed. They had to protect him.

That meant Stefano was nearby.

She had no qualms about chasing them, she had ne fears and no weaknesses, she didn’t have the vulnerabilities that Iris had. She terrified him.

---

The woman was after them and he didn’t know how she’d found them but this must have been a place where she had free range to roam, because she had come from behind them and now she was chasing them, happy as could be. She was going to catch them too, what with Sebastian’s injuries and Iris’ weight.

Iris pointed though and Sebastian would have missed the turn if he hadn’t. The forking hallway was more narrow than the main one and it twisted and turned. They were still moving too slowly, and it wasn’t so narrow that she couldn’t follow them, but they were doing better.

---

He was losing himself. He could feel it, the fear growing louder and more distant at the same time. It was like all of his emotions were taking over and he, feeling them, was getting swept aside. He tried to cling on, tried to stay there, to not get swallowed up by the darkness of his own emotions, but they were so strong. He could feel his body start to betray him.

---

Iris grabbed onto Sebastian suddenly, onto his neck, distracting him from their running, and wrenched his head down so that he’d have better access to his ear, so that Sebastian could hear him.

“Leaf… leaf me… Sl… slu you… dn...”

Sebastian grit his teeth and pivoted his weight. He couldn’t keep running like this. He could feel his lungs burning, too many years of smoking making them sticky and tough. He could feel his legs aching. Iris was heavy. He was slowing Sebastian down. He wouldn’t let that stop him though.

---

He wasn’t listening. Why wasn’t he listening? He was slowing the man down. He was going to get them caught. If he was left behind he could change, all the way, he could fight back. He could bide the man time.

Why wasn’t he being left behind?

---

There was a door down the way, double doors. He situated himself to take them on with his shoulder. There were no handles at least, so he was sure that the doors would swing both ways. He shoved his way through and they were somewhere else.

They were in a dark room, and Iris was falling apart in his arms. He was a mass of tendrils and tar, barely holding onto himself. “Cnt… cant… cnt rl it… pleesse… leaf me…”

“Just a little further,” Sebastian lied, not knowing how far they had to go. “Just, please, stay with me!”

---

He knew where they were. He’d been here so many times. He’d been here for so many hours. There was no way to his room without going through here. It hurt, it made his skin crawl. He could remember the pain. He could remember the screams in his own ears.

He remembered the pain, so much pain, and then he had been left. He had cried out, had fought against the bindings, but no one had responded. He had been alone for hours. He’d been left behind. It had hurt so much.

He could feel himself dripping away.

---

It wasn’t quite a darkroom for, while there were the red lights and the tubs of chemicals, clotheslines of photographs and negatives drying, there were also a few tables of clay and sculpting tools. One table, under a large dental light, was hardly more than a gurney with leather cuffs. There was dried blood on it that had pooled onto the floor underneath. Sebastian put a hand around Iris’ head, making sure that he didn’t turn, didn’t see it. He was sure that he knew exactly what that table was.

He could hear that cackling behind him. He could hardly feel Iris in his arms, it was more like holding a skeleton of metal with a dripping oozing octopus, trying to maintain human form around it, dribbling away. “Just a bit more,” he repeated. He didn’t know what was happening, what he was supposed to be doing, and he had no idea if the women behind him were more of a threat than what he carried.

---

He was a monster. He was going to hurt this man. This man was trying to protect him, was doing what he could to keep him safe. He didn’t want to, but he was afraid that he already trusted him. He didn’t want to do that. He held on to him as best he could. He could feel himself seeping through his own fingers.

He had to bottle the emotions. The man’s hand was on his hand, trying to keep him from seeing. He knew where they were though, he knew what he was being shielded from. Still, he was sure that it helped. He didn’t want to see it.

He focused on the heat of the man’s body, on his heartbeat, on the speed of his breaths. He tried not to feel. He had to keep from feeling.

---

He shoved through another set of doors, almost blinded by the bright light on the other side. He kept moving though, kept trying to find his way. He couldn’t stop now. He had to get them out of there. This corridor was the most narrow so far and there was debris in the center of it, making it hard to get through. At the end of it was a door, made of cast iron bars. He was going to have to get past all of those obstacles, had to climb over or shove them out of the way and he didn’t have time for that, didn’t have the mobility.

---

So close. They were so close. If only they could rest for a moment, he was sure that he could get a hold of himself. He didn’t want to lose himself. He didn’t want to hurt this man.

---

“Th… thrd… dur...” Iris’ voice was even quieter than before, his face so wet that it was almost impossible to find his mouth. It was only then though that Sebastian realized that there were doors and there were many of them. They were white against white in all of that brightness.

“Left or right?” Sebastian asked, finding his own voice weak from how winded he was.

---

Too hard, talking was too hard. Everything was too hard. He was hardly human now, at all. He could feel it, the numbness, taking him over. He had to fight it, had to fight what lead to it. If they could just get there he could calm down, he could ground himself. Everything would be alright.

He couldn’t tell him though, he couldn’t say a word.

---

A tendril wrapped its way around Sebastian’s right hand, leading him. There was a crash as the women destroyed part of the wall with her large saw, showering them with plaster. She laughed, enjoying herself, right behind them. Sebastian had no ammunition. He had nothing. He ran.

The third door on the right was the only one that wasn’t completely white, it had a smear of red on it, blood, a hand print dragged to the right before dribbling down. It was a pike. He couldn’t believe it.

He kicked the door open and hauled Iris inside, kicking it closed again behind him before leaning against it. There was a scream of frustration and then she was was throwing herself against it and he could hear her saw scrape and cut through the wall around the door, but she wasn’t getting in. She couldn’t get in. This was a real safe room, all of the way within Stefano’s own realm, and there were no threats here.

No threats except for the one that was wriggling out of his arms. He tried to hold on but Iris threw himself out of Sebastian’s arms, trying to hold onto a form that was dark gray, that was tar and blood and eyes, so many pulsating and lolling blue eyes, that was thick tentacles and over-sized hands with horrible veins. It all looked as if it were spilling, sliding off of his bones, and, before Sebastian could react, he was dragging himself away, curling in on himself under a table.

---

His room. His safe space. The only place that he had to himself. It was here that he had retreated after hurting himself, after ruining the face that Stefano had been so kind to give him. It was here that no one else could enter. It was here that he could sleep, think, be himself, and not have to worry about the world. It was his refuge and now he had let a stranger inside of it.

He dragged himself away, tried to get away so that the man wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t respond to him or demand anything from him. He couldn’t be looked at in this state. He couldn’t do anything in this state. He had to hide. He had to burrow. It was so hard to old on.

He couldn’t hear Guardian outside anymore. That helped. The man wasn’t speaking either. There was the sound of music, a song that he knew but couldn’t focus on enough to remember, playing somewhere and that wasn’t normal, that wasn’t something that normally existed in this place, but it was fine. It was soothing. Soothing was good.

He went under the table. If he’d allowed himself to fall apart, if he had become the monster, he wouldn’t have fit. As he was, he felt even smaller than he usually was, and he was able to squeeze beneath it.

He lay there, curled in on himself, and waited.

---

Sebastian just fell, allowed himself to fall, into a sitting position, and rest. He didn’t know what Iris was doing, what he even was, if there was anything that he could do. He didn’t know if there was a point to it.

He wasn’t sure if he was safe, but he was safer, and he took a moment to look around the room. There was a bench with deep red cushions and a few mismatched pillows on it, a desk with a computer, although the screen was shattered and the machinery pulled out of it like intestines, a small table with a coffee maker and a mug on it, and a workbench. There was another door in there, in which he could hear music playing from the other side. The main difference between this safe room and the rest was that the walls, all the way up to the ceiling, had deep black claw marks in them, and there was sticky black ooze splattered upon them, as if something had burst, over and over again. That and the table that Iris was currently hidden under, which had a few rolls of film on it, a pencil, some dead flowers, a rotten human hand, and a series of oddities, all of which looked like they were parts of other things before they’d been broken apart and brought here.

“Iris?” Sebastian asked, lying down to look under the table. “Are you okay down there?”

Iris shrunk away, all of those eyes blinking at him. He didn’t answer.

---

No. No, he wasn’t okay. No, he didn’t want this man to look at him, to ask him anything. He didn’t want anything to do with him. He should have left Iris behind. He would have had a chance then, at finding his daughter, if there was any chance of that at all. They weren’t in the Theatre, but they were closer now. Iris knew the way.

He pulled away further. He didn’t want to be seen like this. Like this he was disgusting. Like this he wasn’t art. He was something terrible. He was a mistake.

He was always making mistakes, it made sense for him to become one.

---

Sebastian got to his feet, stumbled, and put a hand out on the wall. He would do better on the bench but, first things first, he needed a cup of coffee. It was hot, steaming, and the mug was clean, pristine, as if it had never been used. He was certain that it hadn’t. Looking at the walls around the workbench and coffee maker, there was as much ooze and damage as everywhere else. These had arrived here later, these had arrived because he needed them. He was sure that the other safe rooms didn’t even have mirrors until he’d arrived.

He took a long drag before sighing in satisfaction, feeling the wound in his back heal over.

“I never introduced myself, did I? I don’t think I did,” Sebastian started, unsure if Iris could hear him, if he could understand him. There was something terribly wrong with him, more than before. “My name is Sebastian; Sebastian Castellanos. I’m… I was, a detective with the Krimson City Police Department. It’s my job to help people. I want to help you. Would you allow me to do that?”

---

Help? Iris didn’t deserve that. He didn’t need it either. He’d had enough help. The only person who could help him was Stefano and he’d ruined that. This man couldn’t help him, wouldn’t even know where to start. Iris didn’t want it, anyway. He needed it. He needed it so badly. He needed someone to make him whole again, to fix him. He didn’t need anyone else. He had to fight that weakness inside of him.

But this man, this Sebastian, he was supposed to help. It was what he did. Iris didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he could even speak. He didn’t want to try. He was too tired. He didn’t understand.

He didn’t know why Sebastian was introducing himself. It wasn’t like they would be traveling together after this. Sebastian had seen what he was, what he could become. He would be afraid of Iris now. He would probably try to kill him. That was fine, Iris could destroy him easily. But it was strange that he’d introduce himself, that he would speak so kindly. Iris wanted that kindness. He wanted to feel it, not only in his head but in his skin. He wanted to feel it on him.

---

Iris didn’t respond. Iris didn’t do much of anything. He just stayed, hidden away, under the table.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” Sebastian said, kneeling beside the table. There was a monster underneath, but that monster was shaking and cowering and he didn’t feel like they were any closer to Lily. “Can you tell me?”

---

He didn’t know how to explain it. He didn’t know what to ask. He couldn’t have anything wrong with him, other than what he’d ruined on his own. Stefano had made him perfect. That wasn’t something that Sebastian could help him with.

He needed to feel. He needed to touch.

He hated it but he needed Sebastian.

---

Iris still didn’t speak, did nothing really, beside extend a hand out from under the table, palm out. The hand was almost the right size, almost human in shape, but it was still mottled and wet, gray and blue and pink. It didn’t look like the hand of a man. It looked like the hand of a monster. Sebastian was slow to reach out, to lay his hand among it, but then the fingers curled and Iris was grabbing hold of him, not to drag him under, not to hurt him, though for a solid moment Sebastian thought he was, but to cling to him. Sebastian had been a life raft, many times, and he knew immediately that that’s what Iris was using him as in this moment. He was holding on, trying not to drown. Trying not to lose himself.

---

Warm. Sebastian was so warm. Even when he was only touching Sebastian’s hand, he could feel that warmth. There was a ring on one of his fingers, a simple gold band, and Iris shivered. He felt like this man shouldn’t be touched, shouldn’t be dirtied. There was someone out there, someone who loved him and that he loved and Iris had no business sullying him. It was an odd thought, unfounded, because Iris didn’t feel anything sexual or romantic towards Sebastian, but it was there. He felt like he wasn’t supposed to be holding his hand, like that much touch alone was trespassing.

Sebastian had offered it willingly though and all he had done was asked for it. He decided not to question it, not to fight it. He was so tired of fighting.

---

Sebastian twisted and sat, getting more comfortable. Iris wasn’t giving anything for him to go by, so he had to assume that talking was alright. So he talked. He asked Iris questions, questions about Union, questions about himself, but never questions about what happened or about Stefano. He didn’t expect an answer, not at any point, and Iris did not give any. He kept his voice low and calm, trying to be supportive, patient. He could feel his patience wearing thin though.

Iris’ hand was going back to normal though, and it was almost completely red and leathery, the gloves taking their place as if they had just seeped under the rest, when there was a knock on the door. It was different from the knocking earlier, the violent women trying to break their way inside. This was just a gentle knock, three reps on the door. Still, it was enough for Iris to pull his hand back under the table, and Sebastian wondered how much of their progress had been lost in those three sounds.

---

Stefano! He had to go, he had to open the door. He had to let Stefano in. He’d never let Stefano in before but then, Stefano had never knocked on the door before. He was all better, aside from his face. He wasn’t too much of a disappointment if he was whole.

He started to pull himself out from under the table. Stefano would be proud of him, having Sebastian here. He doubted he had made enough of an impression, that he hadn’t taught Sebastian how to appreciate the art, but Stefano could take over from here.

He had to let him know that he was alive, he had to let him know that he had Sebastian. He was being good. He had done so well. Perhaps he wouldn’t be punished for this. He had to hope.

---

Iris was pulling himself out from under the table though and he looked as normal as he could, dusting himself off before heading towards the door. He did so in a daze, a practiced motion. He was going to let whatever was out there in.

Sebastian grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him back.

“Don’t.” he ordered.

Iris wouldn’t look at him. Sebastian had no idea how Iris could see, if Iris could see, with all of that ooze in place of his eyes. “Stf…. no...”

Sebastian brought them closer to one another, sweeping some of Iris’ hair behind his ear. He shook and let the hair fall back in place. “Could be, but we don’t want him finding us, do we? He’s the one who took my daughter, who hurt you, who made us fight. I don’t want him hurting you again. And I need to find Lily.”

---

Iris didn’t understand. There were two different things in his mind, battling, and there was no way that he could keep them straight, that he could do something in between. They wouldn’t mesh. He had to help Stefano, he had to make him proud. But he had to help Sebastian, he had to keep him safe. He didn’t know what to do.

Iris nodded. “Bu… But he’s… he’...s… M his...” He couldn’t explain it. He hated his mouth, but he knew that his brain couldn’t explain it either. He wanted to help Sebastian. He liked Lily, he wanted them to be together again.

Stefano would punish him though. Stefano would hurt him so terribly. He was so frightened by that, even though he knew that he would have deserved it.

---

“You’re not his anything,” Sebastian argued, before Iris could even get the rest of the sentence out. “You’re your own person. You owe him nothing. In fact, I’d say he owes you.”

Iris reached out and took the strap of Sebastian’s holster, using it to tug Sebastian into a more intimate position. He lay his goopy head against Sebastian’s chest and just breathed for a moment, tried to collect himself. He didn’t seem to be doing a very good job.

“What was that, before?” Sebastian asked, “When you were under the table?”

---

Another thing that he couldn’t understand. He didn’t know where the monster had come from, why it took him over. It seemed to come out when he felt too much, when the emotions got to be too strong. He didn’t know if it was something of Stefano’s design or his own. He had always felt like a monster though, too clumsy, hands bashing into everything that he stumbled into. He didn’t know what to do. He never knew what to do.

---

“Too much… too much...” Iris tried to explain, tripping over the words. “Cud fil… too much. M mons ter.”

“You’re not a monster,” Sebastian lied, because he had seen monsters, he had fought monsters, and Iris matched the physical description of one, but he was still sentient and he was still trying to do good, and that didn’t match his definition at all. “What was to much?”

“Sad… an ry… scurd. Too much... moshun… cudn.. hld… on...”

---

He felt vulnerable. He was vulnerable. He didn’t want to give that to Sebastian. Sebastian was supposed to be his enemy. He was sure that doing this, explaining, it would hurt him at some point.

He didn’t want to disappoint Sebastian. He didn’t know why. He just didn’t want to push him away. He didn’t want to frighten him. He wanted Sebastian to stay with him.

He wanted Sebastian to be safe.

---

So that’s all that was. Sebastian couldn’t pretend that he understood, he didn’t know anyone else, hadn’t seen anyone else, change due to their emotions. Seemed that waiting it out and just talking had been the right thing to do.

“Do you think he’s gone?” Sebastian asked.

Iris looked to the door, peering at it. Slowly though, he nodded.

“We should go.”

“The tre?” Iris confirmed.

“Right.”

Sebastian went to the door, taking Iris with him. His suit and skin and scarf all seemed to be whole now, no sign that Sebastian had ever shot him. He was still clinging to Sebastian’s holster though and his footing wasn’t quite right and Sebastian knew that he had been blind but he wondered, then if Iris could see much at all. He didn’t seem to have much coordination.

---

It was too bright. It hurt his eyes. It was like everything was too dark, that everything had gone black, but it hurt and it made him wish he were blind once more. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know how to explain it. Stefano had said that he saw everything in negatives, like a photograph that wasn’t quite ready. He could fix it, but it took so much work. The brightness was painful anyway, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to see in it.

---

He opened it and peered out, one way and then the next. There was no one in the hall. Sebastian exhaled and led the way. The hall hadn’t changed but, as they walked it grew brighter with every door they passed, and Iris scooted behind Sebastian to hide his face against his back, as if the brightness hurt him. Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if it did. Everything that Stefano had done to him was so fucked up, he was almost surprised that just plain kindness didn’t backfire.

---

Sebastian could see. Sebastian could lead him. He was getting through all of the obstacles, moving wheelchairs and gurneys out of their way. It was hard to move, difficult to get through, but they were doing it.

The brightness felt warm on Iris’ back. He stayed close to Sebastian. He could hear something though, a hum of disappointment. And it was too late for him to say anything when he realized that it wasn’t Sebastian humming.

---

It was getting so bright that Sebastian was having a hard time seeing when a door opened up behind them.

“Ah, so you are alive, how fascinating,” came the deep voice of the artist.

---

Stefano. Oh, he didn’t know what to do. Of course it was Stefano. The battle was alive inside of him. He wanted to go to him, he wanted to prove his worth. Sebastian though. He couldn’t raise a hand against him.

---

Sebastian spun, keeping Iris behind him, drawing one of his guns. He really should have made use of that workbench. Iris and Lily had been too much of a distraction though. He just had to hope that Stefano wouldn’t call his bluff.

---

Sebastian was protecting him. He was protecting him from Stefano. He knew what Iris was, he knew what their relationship was. Still, he was protecting Iris. He didn’t have to do that.

---

Stefano was standing there, with a small smile, fiddling with his camera. The lens had been replaced and the horrible dark veins in his skin had been smoothed over. He looked as healthy as he had before the fight. “And you’re together. Tell me, is this your way of learning to appreciate my work? Are you starting to understand my vision? Or are you attempting to corrupt it?”

Sebastian took a step back, almost tripping over Iris. He had one arm extended, trying to keep him shielded. “You’re not going to hurt him again,” Sebastian snarled. “I won’t let you.”

---

Hurt him? Sebastian didn’t have a way of keeping Stefano from hurting him. Stefano was like a god, in this place and in Iris’ mind. A cruel god, certainly, but a god all the same. There was nothing that Sebastian could do. The fact that he was trying though, that was so terribly endearing. He didn’t want to see Sebastian killed for it, he realized, and that was something that he could do something about.

---

“You won’t let me?” Stefano laughed, “But you see, this is just a rough draft, he is nowhere near complete! I lost so much progress with the face, but that is no matter. It can be fixed, made better. You have not answered my question though, do you understand?”

“There’s nothing to understand! You’re insane!”

Stefano just rolled his eye and then he stepped forward into a flash of blue. He reappeared in front of Sebastian, his knife out and at his throat. “This is quite boring, don’t you think? You acting all tough, me cutting you down in a single stroke. Tell me, what’s interesting in this? You aren’t even using your gun.”

---

He wasn’t. Iris didn’t know why he wasn’t. He had used it well enough when they were fighting one another. He didn’t know why he wasn’t using it now. He wondered if it was for his own sake, or if Sebastian was out of ammunition. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

---

Sebastian felt a harsh tug and then he was falling back, Iris taking his place as he dragged him down the hall. “All th… way.. then ri-ri-rite… git to… the par men an… don….”

“What are you doing?” Sebastian turned, trying to get back into the fight, but Iris had his arms out, wouldn’t let Sebastian through, tentacles peeling off of his body to make more of a wall. He was buying Sebastian time.

---

It was hard to use both, both his human form and the monster one, but Sebastian needed to go. He had to get out of there. There was nothing that Iris could do against Stefano, but he could at least bide him some time. Time and his own body.

Stefano looked him over and he didn’t seem impressed, not in the least. He was disappointing him. He knew that he would be. He was standing against him. Stefano would tear him apart for this.

He didn’t care. Sebastian was too important.

---

He could hear Stefano sigh and then there was a flash of blue and he was in front of Sebastian again. “You dare to corrupt my vision? You dare to twist my work against me? You, who have no inspiration, you have no skill, you have no imagination? How dare you make such a parody?” the anger was obvious in Stefano’s face and his knife was quick and sharp. He brought it down into Sebastian’s shoulder.

Or he would have, if a thick black tendril hadn’t wrapped around his wrist, if Iris hadn’t been tugging on him, trying to pull him away from Sebastian.

---

No. No, he wasn’t going to hurt Sebastian. He didn’t want Stefano to hurt Sebastian. It was strange, how long he’d gone since allowing himself to want something for himself and right now, what he wanted, was Sebastian safe and secure, far away from there.

He couldn’t sweat. He was made of flesh and clay and metal. There was no way to show that he was exerting himself. He felt like he was at his limit though. He could feel himself losing to his body, to his instincts.

Stefano was going to make him into something new.

---

“Go!” Iris cried out, the sound of it raspy and cracked and broken, and not much of a scream at all.

This time, Sebastian did as he was told. He ran. He knew the way. He wanted to save Iris, but he couldn’t, not like this, not now.

---

Stefano turned to him and yanked, forcing Iris to lose his balance. He fell forward, onto his knees, panting in a mockery of breathing, as he sucked all of the tendrils back into himself, as he tried to be human once more. He didn’t think he’d been human in a long time.

Stefano was furious, stalking up to him, standing over him. “What a disappointment you have become!” he growled.

Iris bowed his head. He understood. He had been expecting this.

“Never mind all that, it looks like we’re going to have to start again, won’t we?” Stefano snarled and he was on his knees as well, right in front of Iris. “First, I’ll have to remove these, it seems you haven’t learned to appreciate what I’ve given you yet.”

Only then did Iris fight him but that was weak and halfhearted. He raised his hands to protect himself, but there was no monster, there was nothing. He just felt Stefano press the knife to his eyelids, to slide it between the tissues and the ooze, and pop the eyes from their sockets.

He screamed, of course he did, as the pain took over, snaking through him like lightning bolts, but Sebastian was gone, he was safe, he was away. There was no one coming for him now.

@angelicsociopath @detectivesebcas @lokis-queen-hepta-the-destroyer @sebcastellanyes @ill-write-when-im-dead

[sacramentonewsjournal]

How the worlds worst golfer hoaxed his method into The Open

Maurice Flitcroft was the fearless rookie who tricked the R&A in 1976 and have become a cult hero for many years to come back. That is the outstanding story of ‘The Phantom of The Open’ Maurice Flitcroft had some vary. From postal employee to ice cream man to stunt driver, the chain-smoking crane operator from Barrow dabbled with nearly each profession at one level or one other. However on the age of 45, Flitcroft’s subsequent enterprise would see him rub shoulders with a future legend, hoax his method into the Open Championship, and turn into the topic of his personal movie. That enterprise was, in fact golf, regardless of Flitcroft having by no means swung a membership earlier than. The yr was 1974, and Flitcroft discovered himself obsessive about the game after catching a glimpse on his newly bought color TV. Enthralled by what he noticed, this eccentric character quickly launched into a quest to win golf’s oldest main. Identical to Seve Ballesteros and Jack Nicklaus, Flitcroft had his eyes set on Claret Jug. But to play a full spherical of 18 holes, Flitcroft did the unthinkable and utilized to enter the 1976 Open at Royal Birkdale. “I learn up about The Open and thought it will be an important match to play in.” he mentioned. “I assumed it will be good to realize that customary, in order that was my plan.” However there was one drawback. Flitcroft didn’t have a handicap, nor was he an expert golfer. No less than not formally. Introduced with the doorway sheet, it was right here the place Flitcroft’s fraudulent journey started, declaring himself skilled and someway securing a spot at Open Qualifying. Having borrowed the entry price from his spouse, Jean, learn up on tuition manuals at his native library, and practiced bunker pictures at a close-by seaside, Flitcroft arrived at Formby stuffed with confidence. Dressed the half with a bucket hat to match, Flitcroft quickly raised suspicion when his opening shot travelled 4 ft. Enjoying companion Jim Howard was flabbergasted, describing Flitcroft as “gripping the membership like he was intent on murdering somebody” because the rookie chopped his method spherical in 121 pictures. At 49-over-par, it stays the worst rating ever in Open historical past. “I ought to have used the 4-wood.” Flitcroft defined. “However I’d left that within the automotive.” Phrase of Flitcroft’s antics quickly reached a livid R&A, who banned him from competing on day two because the fraudster was pressured to flee the scene of the crime. Regardless of the feat, Flitcroft’s dream was nonetheless alive and kicking – no less than in his personal thoughts. He tried to enter 5 extra Opens, every time adopting a brand new disguise and hilarious identification. From Arnold Palmtree to Rely Manfred von Hoffmenstal to James Beau Jolley, Flitcroft did not earn a second chew on the Claret Jug till his Swiss alter ego, Gerald Hoppy, made it previous R&A authorities in 1988. On this event he was capable of shoot 63 – albeit over 9 holes – as the people hero was once more banished earlier than he may full his quest. “Think about their shock once they found that they had the precise Maurice Flitcroft on their fingers,” he mentioned afterwards. The antics have been sufficient to earn Flitcroft a brand new nickname, ‘The Phantom of The Open’ – which simply so occurs to be the identify of the 2021 movie concerning the cult hero’s quick golf profession. 2023 NCG High 100s Tour Spring occasions now on sale! VIEW EVENTS Subscribe to NCG (function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src="https://connect.facebook.net/en_GB/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v3.2"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); Originally published at Sacramento News Journal

[privateplates4u]

Porsche 911 Turbo S: 3rd Place – 2017 Motor Trend Best Driver’s Car

Long the performance flagship of the Porsche 911 line, the Turbo S adds a healthy dose of crazy. Rather than mess with success, this 991.2 iteration tackles the only criticism of the previous Turbo S: It wasn’t wild enough. Some will feel even this version is too sterile; they’re nuts. Porsche fitted two new variable-geometry turbos to the 3.8-liter flat-six engine, which now conjures 580 hp and 516 lb-ft of torque—or 553 lb-ft in temporary overboost. An anti-lag system keeps the throttle open but cuts the fuel during shifts to keep air flowing. Porsche’s PDK dual-clutch automatic transaxle remains, as do the all-wheel-drive system, electronically adjustable shock absorbers, carbon-ceramic brakes, front splitter, and rear wing. A new Sport Response button gives you 20 seconds of on-demand sharper throttle response, and a new rear-wheel steering system sharpens the handling. It’s Best Driver’s Car week! Don’t miss the incredible story of how we chose the 2017 Best Driver’s Car right here, and stay tuned for the World’s Greatest Drag Race, coming soon. The result is the hardest-launching car we’ve ever tested, at 1.26 g of horizontal force. Tesla? Nope. Demon? Nuh-uh. From a stop, this 911 will dust a Bugatti Veyron to 60 mph—just 2.5 seconds. The quarter mile flashes past in a stunning 10.6 seconds, at which point you’ll be traveling at 129.6 mph and pulling hard. It pulls hard in corners, too, registering 1.05 average g on the skidpad and 0.95 average g during a brief 22.9-second figure-eight lap. Stopping the 3,557-pound missile from 60 mph takes only 92 feet. We Say “My litmus test for whether a car has a shot at taking the BDC crown is what I’m doing with my head and shoulders when driving. If I’m cocking my head and leaning into the turns along with the vehicle, I am in sync with my steed. We are one; the man-machine interface is engaged, the singularity has occurred. It happened with the winning McLaren 570S last year. “I’m doing that head tilting, lean in thing whilst carving the canyons in the Turbo S. It is nearly the complete package. So fast and completely unflappable. It’s really hard to find a flaw here. Just so fast. Smooth. Lovely to hear the wastegates dump as you lift throttle and the beats of silence between gearshifts. But yes, a more thrilling sound from the back would be appreciated. Unbelievably fast. It is really a focused tool intended for one purpose: going very fast.” – Ed Loh Read about other 2017 Best Driver’s Car contenders: Ferrari 488 GTB Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 1LE Porsche 718 Cayman S Lexus LC 500 Mercedes-AMG GT R Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport Aston Martin DB11 Nissan GT-R NISMO Mazda MX-5 Miata RF McLaren 570GT “Goose bumps—it’s so easy to handle. Steering is stiff, but it gives you exactly the kind of feedback that you want to feel on a road like this. The sound coming from the engine is superb. Suspension is rigid but comfortable. I felt the confidence to go faster on the corners and push for more. The 911 stands out not only for its handsome looks, but also for that great feeling of confidence that it delivers when you drive on windy roads.” – Miguel Cortina “So, so, so capable on 198. But the trade-off of having such a highly capable car is that it’s quite a bore to drive in normal situations, which is likely how the 911 Turbo will be driven 91.1 percent of the time. It’s really boring on the road. But again, great car to drive hard.” – Erick Ayapana “To me, this is the perfect driver’s car, in that you can do it all: drive for hours and hours on an interstate, then suddenly twist a dial to sport plus, put the hammer down, and the 911 leaps to life, assured, forceful, and pragmatically intense. It is so composed, so nailed down, so very fast, and so full of grip. There is never a hint that something might go awry. It squirts out of the apex and fills you with so much confidence. If you carry too much speed into a corner, lay into the brakes through that entry portion of the curve, and the 911 just tucks in and says, ‘Yeah sure, we got this.’” – Mark Rechtin “My god it’s so capable and so easy. The engine almost feels lazy while piling on the speed. It’s really deceptive how powerful it truly is even at low rpm. It’s amazing how much confidence this car gives a driver. Not just the brakes, but the steering and the stability. The car shrinks around you and becomes an extension of you. I’m looking for a complaint, and I can’t find one.” – Chris Walton “There’s a reason this car is at the top of the rankings in any competition. The 911 Turbo S is so amazingly competent on every level—without having any visible compromises—that it’s easy to forget how high its limits are. Right out of the box, the 911 Turbo S lets you drive as fast as you dare, brake as hard as you can, and turn as much as you wish. It doesn’t just inspire confidence … it inspires a relationship with the driver.” – Derek Powell Randy Says “Yeah, the 911 Turbo S was super great, but it almost seemed a little bit unsatisfying. Somehow? This 991.2 has so much more torque than the last GT3s, any GT3 I ever drove. And it’s just so satisfying to drive. The balance under power is amazing to me. Knowing how little weight is on those tires especially when you’re under about 0.9 g acceleration in second gear, and it doesn’t push under power. This car seems more rewarding to drive to me, and it really … it blows away some great cars. I guess ‘cause it’s easy? But it’s rewardingly easy. It’s not boring; it’s satisfying. It just makes me feel like I could drive better than I really can. I literally said that to myself, driving off of turn 11. “In the slower corners, when the revs are down, there’s no sense of lag whatsoever. I love the way it’ll dig off the corner without understeer. I could go to the power really early, and I’d just know that a lot of cars would want to understeer under this condition. And it doesn’t, it just comes on. Just fascinatingly, thrillingly good. “You have to be just a wee bit careful about entry oversteer. Don’t leave that weight on the nose for too long on a high speed corner. It takes a real specific combination of great on-the-nose, aggressive turn-in, and off throttle to bring the tail out. A couple of times when it came out it still was not scary. It was a pleasant experience. Back to the power, and there you go. I’m just really, really impressed. “With PDKs you’re just wasting your time shifting manually. It might be fun just to do it for the fun of it, but it’s completely unnecessary to shift yourself. The brakes held up completely; even the tires held up. I mean, the loads, what they’re going through is mind-bending. The amount of speed, the amount of braking, and how hard those tires are worked—they still hold up. The car retains its balance. I just seem to be able to repeat my braking performance. I was in so deep a couple times halfway through the brakes I thought maybe I wouldn’t make this. But then it would slow down enough and ride into the apex, and away we’d go. It’s a nice, firm pedal, and that means the braking performance is repeatable. It also made me push it harder. “I don’t feel the rear-steer except that, maybe, it’s my guess that it’s one of the ways they keep the front traction in the middle of the corner when it really shouldn’t have any, but the car responds to the steering wheel in the middle of the corner. Low-speed, high-speed, anything you want. I think I set my speed record over the corkscrew. “It’s a real testament to what’s possible with modern technology when you are creating a sports car and you know what you’re doing. It’s an amazing piece of machinery. A living testament to how good a car can be with the stability control off.” 2017 Porsche 911 Turbo S POWERTRAIN/CHASSIS DRIVETRAIN LAYOUT Rear-engine, AWD ENGINE TYPE Twin-turbo flat-6, alum block/heads VALVETRAIN DOHC, 4 valves/cyl DISPLACEMENT 231.9 cu in/3,800 cc COMPRESSION RATIO 9.8:1 POWER (SAE NET) 580 hp @ 6,750 rpm TORQUE (SAE NET) 516 lb-ft @ 2,100 rpm* REDLINE 7,200 rpm WEIGHT TO POWER 6.1 lb/hp TRANSMISSION 7-speed twin-clutch auto. AXLE/FINAL-DRIVE RATIO 3.44:1(f) 3.33:1(r)/2.06:1 SUSPENSION, FRONT; REAR Struts, coil springs, adj shocks, anti-roll bar; multilink, coil springs, adj shocks, anti-roll bar STEERING RATIO 12.5-15.0:1 TURNS LOCK-TO-LOCK 2.5 BRAKES, F; R 16.1-in vented, drilled, carbon-ceramic disc; 15.4-in vented, drilled, carbon-ceramic disc, ABS WHEELS 9.0 x 20-in; 11.5 x 20-in forged aluminum TIRES 245/35ZR20 91Y; 305/30ZR20 103Y Pirelli P Zero Corsa N0 DIMENSIONS WHEELBASE 96.5 in TRACK, F/R 60.7/62.6 in LENGTH x WIDTH x HEIGHT 177.4 x 74.0 x 51.0 in TURNING CIRCLE 60.7/62.6 in CURB WEIGHT 3,557 lb WEIGHT DIST, F/R 39/61% SEATING CAPACITY 2+2 HEADROOM, F/R 37.7/32.2 in LEGROOM, F/R 42.2/27.1 in SHOULDER ROOM, F/R 51.3/47.9 in CARGO VOLUME 4.1 cu ft (+9.2 cu ft beh fr seats) TEST DATA ACCELERATION TO MPH 0-30 0.9 sec 0-40 1.4 0-50 1.9 0-60 2.5 0-70 3.3 0-80 4.1 0-90 5.1 0-100 6.2 0-100-0 9.7 PASSING, 45-65 MPH 1.3 QUARTER MILE 10.6 sec @ 129.6 mph BRAKING, 60-0 MPH 92 ft LATERAL ACCELERATION 1.05 g (avg) MT FIGURE EIGHT 22.9 sec @ 0.95 g (avg) 2.2-MI ROAD COURSE LAP 1:33.21 sec TOP-GEAR REVS @ 60 MPH 1,500 rpm CONSUMER INFO BASE PRICE $189,150 PRICE AS TESTED $196,360 STABILITY/TRACTION CONTROL Yes/Yes AIRBAGS 8: Dual front, fr side, fr curtain, fr knee BASIC WARRANTY 4 yrs/50,000 miles POWERTRAIN WARRANTY 4 yrs/50,000 miles ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE 4 yrs/50,000 miles FUEL CAPACITY 17.9 gal EPA CITY/HWY/COMB ECON 19/24/21 mpg ENERGY CONS, CITY/HWY 177/140 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 0.93 lb/mile RECOMMENDED FUEL Unleaded premium The post Porsche 911 Turbo S: 3rd Place – 2017 Motor Trend Best Driver’s Car appeared first on Motor Trend.

http://www.motortrend.com/news/porsche-911-turbo-s-3rd-place-2017-best-drivers-car/

[dramioneasks]

Faq Fics: Werewolf!Draco

The Sacrifices We Make by LR Earl - M, WIP - After Harry Potter falls in the final Battle, a desperate Order of the Phoenix needs Draco Malfoy’s pack of werewolves to defeat Voldermort. Hermione plans to offer the reclusive Alpha the one thing he can’t refuse: a child of his own. But sometimes we find ourselves in the sacrifices we make. AU, Werewolf!Draco, Voldermort!Wins, Mature Themes.

Children of the Dark - Year 7 By: cleotheo - T, 40 chapters - It’s seventh year and the trio are entering their last year at Hogwarts. With the dark in control and the Order all but defeated, things should be plain sailing for Hermione, Draco and Harry. But their final year of school, will be just like the previous six - full of adventure and excitement. Seventh and final part of a seven part story. Dark Hermione! Dark Harry!

Howl For Me by Kittenshift17- M, WIP - Hermione felt a sense of dread grip her when she heard Kingsley begin discussing the idea of replenishing the population and how conception between magical folk wasn’t achievable without a matrimonial bond. A marriage law in effect is not something she is pleased about, especially when she learns her match is to Draco Malfoy. HG/DM. GW/BZ. RW/PP. HP/TD.

I’ll Fill The Graves by strawberrykait - M, one shot - All of her friends were dead. He had sworn she would be his at any cost. She was stupid enough to resist.

Not To Me by naarna - NC-17, 6 Chapters - The War is over, Voldemort defeated, and everyone settling into their post-War lives, with Hermione taking up a position at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Yet, when she comes across Draco’s name in the confidential register of creatures, she leaves everything behind to go off on a search for him…

Cold Side of the Moon by RZZMG - Explicit, 11 chapters - Released from Azkaban and tossed into the Forbidden Forest for Voldemort’s entertainment, Hermione Granger must escape the predators and survive for eight days to earn her freedom. She doesn’t expect to make it, especially knowing Draco Malfoy, half-breed werewolf, is somewhere in the forest, too, just waiting for the next victim of The Games to arrive.

The Hunger by eilonwy - MA, 10 Chapters - Written for the Dramione Couples Remix fest on LJ. My chosen couple were Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. This story is a dark-ish, contemporary retelling of the original fairy tale with some twists. It’s actually a bit of a hybrid. See if you can guess which other fairy tale contributes elements to the story as well.

Lessons in Lycanthropy By: bentnotbroken1 - M, WIP - The blame, Draco would later muse, fell on Theo’s shoulders. If it hadn’t been for his insistence that they sneak out and throw what the muggles called a “kegger”, none of them would have been in the forest that fateful night. But that was exactly what happened. Theo had insisted and that was why he now had the urge to howl at the moon.

Who is the big bad wolf? By: Got-a-quill - M, 9 chapters - “Take me home Malfoy” I shouted. I was desperate. I didn’t want to be here, I wanted to be home. “I can’t, not yet anyways” He said in almost a whisper.“What’s happening?” I asked, as I looked up at the door.“Something big” Was his answer.

Love, Lust, and Draco Malfoy  - NeuroticMuse413 - M, 31 chapters - The werewolf’s curse forces Draco to seek asylum from the Order. When Hermione gets a little too close and Draco bites a little too hard, the two are forever linked. Can they resist their new animal attraction or will Hogwarts be split in two? 6th Yr, M.

Bad Moon Rising - tygermine - M, one-shot - Hermione really needs to stop staring at Draco and concentrate on finding a killer ripping people apart in the streets of Bangkok. 

Addicted to You By: Kittenshift17 - M, WIP - An act of kismet whilst herb gathering sees Hermione interacting with an unknown werewolf. When he bites her while she is in her animagus form, he sets into motion a twisted destiny that binds them together as mates. With Remus and Sirius there to help her through, Hermione's biggest worry is finding out the identity of the werewolf who marked her.

Finding Peace -  goldhorse - MA, 4 chapters - Hermione and Draco have horrific experiences during the war that cause lifelong turmoil. Peace is impossible to to achieve. Or is it?

The Covenant by lifyndra - M, 33 chapters -  "Draco Malfoy" is dead and, living under an alias in America, he plans to stay that way.  When Hermione Granger suddenly appears on the scene, he'll do anything to keep her silent on the matter.  If that happens to mean kidnapping her and holding her hostage in his home... indefinitely... so be it.

Instinctive -  goldhorse - MA, 3 chapters - Voldemort has discovered a new punishment for his victims. Will it make or break them? 

Only Logical by scifichick774 - NC-17, 11 Chapters - Frustrated at Harry and Ron’s lack of enthusiasm in hunting for the Horcruxes, Hermione launches her own search… but pieces of Voldemort’s soul aren’t the only things she finds. Tales of The Dragon and The Bookworm by cpetrienm - MA, one-shot - The Mating (My take on Beauty and the Beast with a Dramione twist.) 

Becoming Beta - crochetaway - E, WIP - Draco's summer after 5th year was off to a terrible start. Father was in Azkaban. Mother was barely holding it together. The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters were living in his house. Fenrir Greyback and his werewolf pack was living in his dungeons. The Dark Lord had given Draco a seemingly impossible task, and now he had to accept punishment on his father's behalf.

Thanks to all those who helped with this list!

[night-shadowblood-writes]

Blood or Water

? X oc

TW: abuse mentioned, death, manipulation mentioned

Idk did the ending seem rough? It's super late here and I'm tired lol please heart n comment and tell me what you guys think!

Chapter 1

As a kid I always hated the rain it stopped me from going outside and playing with my personal guard or running around with my older brothers while my father watched from the window. I hated the lightning and thunders roar people often say how much they love the sound the after smell of rain and wet soil.

All my life I was trained along side my six older brothers to be a villain my father claiming we were in the right that what the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse are doing is the right thing and that hero's were selfish greedy scum.

My father have us all training since we could start walking and by the time our quirks came in we were taken on missions. If we failed we were punished if we were successful then you stayed out of the chamber another day.

It's not to say our father didn't love us! It's because he did that we had scars on out backs to remind us to do better or the hero's win and we loose a family member or underling.

We even got the privilege of having our names tattooed shoulder blade to shoulder blade! Just like father but sadly unlike him I'm not the only one who has my name I share it with three others.

Each horseman has seven children they call their sins Pestilence resides in the North while War is settled in the east and Famine takes root in the west. My father is Death and my name is Pride. My older brothers are Greed, Wrath, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, and Envy. While we share one father we each have a different mothers it's hard to tell any of us are related unless your staring at our eyes. Cold unforgiving sea green eyes that my father sports.

I believed everything my father said, followed every command until one night on my 13th birthday when I encountered a hero unlike the others.

I was finishing up a mission tying loose ends when he came in. 23 yrs old with black hair and yellow eyes and brown skin similar to milk chocolate. He was beautiful I was in awe my brother Gluttony also shared a similar color skin only he and I were colored while my other brothers were delicate ivory. "Hola hero what brings you here?"

"To stop you this isn't a game kid go home." "Kid?" "Huh?" I felt anger boil in me how dare this scum of a hero!

I am Pride, Death's favorite child, I would not be underestimated by a weak hero!

With a quick flick of my wrist water from nearby wraps around my wrist like a bracelet and I whipped it at him. While I was taking care of this my customers were finishing loading up the cargo and ready to get away.

Seeing this he tried to step pass me but was quick to jump away. I mean when your neck is gushing out blood you would need to get a hold of yourself. I took out his phone and smashed it with my heel.

"Just die already scum you hero's are a waste to society. The Horsemen of Apocalypse have been doing this for generations even before quirks even existed. If you think a weakling like you can stop them your just deceiving yourself. What good do hero's even do? You guys are just marionettes for the government to claim the U.S is safe like dolls or actually circus performers! Now be a good hero and die for me alright"

As I walked away and grip the side of the truck banging twice on the side to let them know I was ready i didn't think I'd ever see him again.

So you could imagine the surprise I felt, but was able to keep under wraps, when I saw him again his name was Salamander.

How? Not possible I swore I ended him I cut straight through his jugular vein. So how?!

And this continued for six months Salamander has been everywhere I have every meeting, every drop off, and it was starting to get infuriating.

"What do you want hero scum?" I turn to him on the rooftop of a ten story building. "I want to know how a child got involved with organization like the Horsemen of Apocalypse." child..again he calls me a child I know I'm small but I'm a teenager!

"That's none of your concern hero scum!" "It is! I want to protect you let me take you somewhere safe!" "Heh you can't "protect" me I was born into this."

"Born?" He muttered before realization passed through his eyes "I can still protect you help us hero's finally stop the harm they do!"

"How cani help you when I committed those same crimes?" "I'll find a way please you have to know hurting someone is wrong!"

"..."

"Please I can protect you."

"How are you still alive?" I asked "My quirk is called Regenerate." After he answered my question I fled.

It took me six months before I was entranced by him. He was kind, caring, outgoing yet shy. He told me what was right and what was wrong like I can't just fight somebody if they made me unhappy or that just taking what I wanted without paying is illegal therefore bad.

I think 'Would Salamander approve?' if I decide to do something I considered normal but was actually bad. But it happened on a rainy day I wasn't cautious enough and my brother Envy followed me.

He saw me with a hero planning to take me away and show me a new world and flew into a rage looking in my direction for a minute before running to him his quirk was Borrow.

If he was able to look at a person for a while minute undisturbed he was able to take their quirk as his own he's not able to take multiple quirks and each one lasts about 10 minutes before he's able to take on a new one. He can't permanently take a quirk though.

Salamander was careful he knew about my brothers and how much my family meant to me. Even if we were villains.

"Not fair! How come your planning to escape and see the world huh?!?" I didn't know what to do he had my quirk making me momentarily quirkless but I was the second best to Wrath in physical combat so I helped being Envy down with the help of my second quirk.

I helped Salamander detain my brother and leave his (alive) body elsewhere. "So this is it I can't go back now that Envy saw us he'll have Death confine me to the chamber for my disloyalty no one lives after betraying Death..." I looked down I was leaving everything behind my life, my family, my normalcy for a hero like no other.

I felt a hand on my shoulder "It's fine Pride I'll protect you. You've become a sister I always wanted hahaha" he smiled. He took me to his home where a few essentials of mine are. "First me need a new identity and story for you if you keep going by Pride they'll find you and you won't be able to do this without being hurt." "..unless I become a hero myself and help you. This is years upon years of stuff you hero's won't be able to touch. We have it like that and have never been touched for a reason we have to go about this smart."

" I know! Amira Hyume that's perfect!" "I'm Latina how does that work?" "It doesn't they'll be searching for you under a Latina or English name!" " Well what now?" " Well I figured your smart-" "Of course I'm the best after all." "- so I thought I'd take you to Japan where the number one hero All Might went to school at called UA!" "Tch I heard of him damn hero scum.." "In a few years you'll be hero scum too! Ah I'm not crying!"

It was then that I understood blood may be thicker than water but water washes away all impurities. I smile this was the first step toward being a hero.

Look out UA lookout Horseman of Apocalypse I'm going to be a hero.

[veolaesposito1-blog]

6 Tricks to Make You Discover ways to Win In Madden NFL 17 Cellular Game

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[holylulusworld]

You know me well – Epilogue

Summary: Winning a contest to earn a small role in the next Supernatural Episode is a dream coming true. The only problem is the man you admire for his talent thinks you are not good enough. When he finally admits something, he turns your world upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: fluff, smut, protected sex, loss of virginity, romance, language, nakedness, fingering

You know me well Masterlist

Everything after the red carpet is a blur. Jensen has one arm slung around your waist, answering questions of cast and crew about your relationship politely while you try to calm your nerves.

“Relax, Baby Girl. The cat is out, and we are officially a pair.” Nibbling at your earlobe Jensen smirks as you start to shiver. “You’re all mine now…”

“Ackles…” Scolding your boyfriend as he gropes your ass you laugh as he pouts like a schoolboy. “Won’t make me budge, Jay.”

“You know…” Pecking your neck Jensen let his lips linger longer than needed. “We have this nice room; a huge bed and I can order champagne and strawberries.”

“Jensen Ackles, are you trying to seduce me here?” Jensen smirks nodding eagerly as his hand wanders to your butt again. “Does it work?”

“Maybe…let’s find the others.” Grinning you walk away, swaying your hips on purpose and Jensen groans behind you. He’s tugging at his pants to hide his rock-hard problem.

“It’s great you met on set and fell in love. We should call the series Superlovemaker from now on.”

One of the producers tries to be funny but you feel uncomfortable with the way he looks at you. “Not easy to resist such a nice girl.”

“Exactly. She’s a wonderful girl. Beautiful. Smart. Kind and…” Jensen stands protectively in front of you. “All mine…”

“Well…uh. That’s great Jensen, congrats on another milestone to all of us. Let’s enjoy the party.” Walking away the guy turns around to watch Jensen cup your cheek gently. “He made you feel uncomfortable, could see it.”

“He was staring at me like I am a dessert or something he wants to eat. You never look at me that way.” Smirking Jensen brushes his lips over yours.

“I’m a master at hiding I want to rip this dress off your body and make you scream my name. After all, I am a gentleman.”

Laughing you hide your face into his chest, patting his crotch. “A gentleman with a problem…”

Walking you toward your shared room Jensen holds your hand, pecks your cheek now and then till you finally reach the door. He’s holding it open for you, whistling as you sway your hips.

When you reach the bedroom your breath hitches in your throat. There are rose petals all over the bed. Candles are lit and smooth music is playing. You can feel Jensen’s lips at your shoulder, nipping and marking your skin.

“I thought we could…if you don’t want to we can just…” Stammering Jensen shrieks as fist his tie to bring him down for a sloppy kiss.

“I want you, Ackles. Get out of this suit and we can take care of the problem you are hiding for months…”

“It’s just... you make me so hard, Baby Girl. Can’t help myself…” Jensen nips at your neck, groaning as he opens the zipper at your back. “I want you so badly, Y/N.”

“I want you too, Jensen. You proved that you would risk your career to make me feel special tonight. That’s the reason I want to make you feel special too…” Jensen smiles, sliding your dress down your shoulders only to find you bare.

“No underwear…” Panting Jensen looks you all over and you slide your hand over his chest. “I kinda planned to get you into my clutches tonight, Ackles…”

“Dirty girl, seducing me…” Smirking he loosens his tight, letting you shove his jacket down his broad shoulder’s moments later. While you help your boyfriend strip his clothes off your heart is in your throat.

“I’m a bit nervous, Jay…” Smiling Jensen kisses your worries away, carefully walking you toward the bed to watch you lie on the soft sheets. “I’ll make you feel so good…”

“I bet you can with that thing between your legs.” Laughing your nervousness off you watch Jensen crawl on top of you. He doesn’t go straight for the goal, instead, he kisses your lips, moves one hand through your hair as he settles between your thighs.

“Tell me if you want to stop, Baby Girl. We don’t have to…” Your arms wrap around his neck to bring him down for another kiss. “No backing off now, Jensen. I want this with you, and I want it right now…”

“I love you are bossy…hmmm…” Lips traveling along your collarbone Jensen smirks as you start to squirm the moment he slips one hand between your legs. “So wet…I’ll slip two fingers in like last time…relax…”

Nodding you slide your hands over his arms, watching Jensen work you open with slow strokes of his fingers against your walls. Biting your lower lip, trapping it between your teeth you grind against his digits.

“You good? Do you need more?” Pressing his thumb against your clit, slowly swiping it Jensen watches you shudder underneath him. Close to your high you dig your nails into his flesh, moaning his name.

“Jensen…I want you…” Pecking your lips Jensen opens the nightstand to get a condom out. “You are prepared, smart man…”

Wiggling his eyebrows Jensen rips the wrapping open, and you take the condom out of his hands to carefully roll it over his length.

“One day, I want you bare…fill you up…make you round…” With every word Jensen nips at your lips, breathing heavily as you tilt your hips to let the tip slip in. “We’ll go slow, Baby Girl…”

“Jensen get in there right now…” Muttering you tug at his hair while Jensen tries to inch into you. “Want to feel you split me open, make me yours…”

“Mine…I like the sound of that…” Whimpering for a moment you feel him bottom out to press the tip against your cervix. “You know…god…you’re fucking big…”

“I know, but you take me so well. I guess…” Nibbling at your lower lip Jensen smirks. “I have to make you my wife sooner or later to make sure you will be mine forever.”

Laughing you nod, sliding your fingers over his arms. Jensen moves slow, deliberate at first. He doesn’t want to hurt you, wants to make sure you get used to the feeling of having him inside of you.

“Jensen…harder…” Gripping his shoulders, legs tightly locked around his waistline you start meeting his thrusts. Jensen starts groaning, matching your moans as you can feel him hitting the right spot. “Oh…fuck me…”

“I’m on it Baby…shit…yes…” Gripping the sheets he starts crashing his hips into yours, cursing as you squeeze him tightly. “I want to…oh…no…son of a bitch.”

Flying over the edge only seconds behind you Jensen kisses your fiercely, making your highs even more intimate.

“Son of a bitch?” Giggling you move your fingers through his messed-up hair. “That’s what a girl wants to hear…”

“I love you…better?” Blinking he looks at you, smirking as you nod eagerly. “I love you too Jay…”

“Awesome. Now…uh…" Clearing his throat Jensen licks his lips. “Was I good…did you feel good?”

“Hmm…well…maybe. I think I need to test you some more for a final statement…” Pecking your lips Jensen pulls out to discard the condom.

Wrapped in Jensen’s arms you gently rub his back, loving the way he let his lips wander over your forehead.

“So…no more secrets?”

“No more secrets, Y/N…”

The End

You know me well Tags

@mlovesstories​, @bitchwhytho​​, @mynightmarestuff, @deanwanddamons​,

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @sandlee44, @strayrosesbloom, @notyourtypicalrose, @thewinchesterco, @marvelfansworld, @hobby27, @gh0stgurl, @flamencodiva, @jay-and-dean, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis, @chonisberonica, @wittysunflower, @supernaturalenchanted, @shikshinkwon, @yolobloggers, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space, @ilovefanfic86, @linki-locks11, @eggingamazinglove, @trumpettay, @fandom-imagines1, @thenamelesschibi, @waywardbaby, @straycuties9, @drakelover78, @stuckys-whore, @zxph-yr, @i-love-superhero, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @deepmuffinspymaker, @katpatrova17, @heyitscam99, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @neii3n, @exo-nova, @cocklesbelli, @echoesofpassion, @lauravic, @shatteredabby, @deanmonandnegansbitch, @sea040561, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @juniorhuntersam​, @helpmeluci, @goodgodimaweirdperson​, @shadowkat-83​, @alltimesamantha, @officialmarvelwhore​, @meganywinchester​, @miraclesoflove​, @lu-sullivan​, @maniacproffesor​, @hollymac79​, @kayla-2000​, @gracefultrenchcoat494​, @babygirls-fav, @spnwoman, @amiquette, @alexoloughlinlover32, @geekofmanyforms, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @atomicfandombomb, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @defenderrosetyler, @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @tmiships4life, @sabascio, @that-place-called-middle-earth, @the-broken-angel-13, @bunnybaby89, @pandabiiissh, @maddiedott, @lilulo-12, @theoneandonlymelol, @mblaqgi, @clawsandshotguns, @justsomedreaming, @cassiopeia-barrow, @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters, @mscarter213, @jo-like-josette, @mep6811, @prettydeaneyes, @rvgrsbrns, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@spnfamily-j2​, @supernatural-bellawinchester​, @negans-lucille-tblr​, @deans-baby-momma​, @thefaithfulwriter​, @squirrelnotsam​, @roonyxx​, @neerness​, @deansgirl-1968​, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​, @butifulsoul125​, @lyinginthegingerlocks​, @20gayneen​, @janicho88​, @woodworthti666​, @thevelvetseries​, @dreaminemz​, @akshi8278​, @midnightsilver16830​, @mrspeacem1nusone​, @ria132love​, @caligraphee​, @the-witch-in-silence​, @justanotherwinchester​, @multisuperfandom​, @jason-todd-squad​, @jadesupernatural​, @psychicforest​, @luciathewinchestergirl​, @magssteenkamp​, @palefiregiver​, @tranquility-or-chaos​, @jxackles​, @michellemxndes​, @addictedtofictionalcharacters​, @gabifernandessn​

[robertkstone]

Porsche 911 Turbo S: 3rd Place – 2017 Motor Trend Best Driver’s Car

Long the performance flagship of the Porsche 911 line, the Turbo S adds a healthy dose of crazy. Rather than mess with success, this 991.2 iteration tackles the only criticism of the previous Turbo S: It wasn’t wild enough. Some will feel even this version is too sterile; they’re nuts.

Porsche fitted two new variable-geometry turbos to the 3.8-liter flat-six engine, which now conjures 580 hp and 516 lb-ft of torque—or 553 lb-ft in temporary overboost. An anti-lag system keeps the throttle open but cuts the fuel during shifts to keep air flowing. Porsche’s PDK dual-clutch automatic transaxle remains, as do the all-wheel-drive system, electronically adjustable shock absorbers, carbon-ceramic brakes, front splitter, and rear wing. A new Sport Response button gives you 20 seconds of on-demand sharper throttle response, and a new rear-wheel steering system sharpens the handling.

It’s Best Driver’s Car week! Don’t miss the incredible story of how we chose the 2017 Best Driver’s Car right here, and stay tuned for the World’s Greatest Drag Race, coming soon.

The result is the hardest-launching car we’ve ever tested, at 1.26 g of horizontal force. Tesla? Nope. Demon? Nuh-uh. From a stop, this 911 will dust a Bugatti Veyron to 60 mph—just 2.5 seconds. The quarter mile flashes past in a stunning 10.6 seconds, at which point you’ll be traveling at 129.6 mph and pulling hard. It pulls hard in corners, too, registering 1.05 average g on the skidpad and 0.95 average g during a brief 22.9-second figure-eight lap. Stopping the 3,557-pound missile from 60 mph takes only 92 feet.

We Say

“My litmus test for whether a car has a shot at taking the BDC crown is what I’m doing with my head and shoulders when driving. If I’m cocking my head and leaning into the turns along with the vehicle, I am in sync with my steed. We are one; the man-machine interface is engaged, the singularity has occurred. It happened with the winning McLaren 570S last year.

“I’m doing that head tilting, lean in thing whilst carving the canyons in the Turbo S. It is nearly the complete package. So fast and completely unflappable. It’s really hard to find a flaw here. Just so fast. Smooth. Lovely to hear the wastegates dump as you lift throttle and the beats of silence between gearshifts. But yes, a more thrilling sound from the back would be appreciated. Unbelievably fast. It is really a focused tool intended for one purpose: going very fast.” – Ed Loh

Read about other 2017 Best Driver’s Car contenders:

Ferrari 488 GTB

Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 1LE

Porsche 718 Cayman S

Lexus LC 500

Mercedes-AMG GT R

Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio

Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport

Aston Martin DB11

Nissan GT-R NISMO

Mazda MX-5 Miata RF

McLaren 570GT

“Goose bumps—it’s so easy to handle. Steering is stiff, but it gives you exactly the kind of feedback that you want to feel on a road like this. The sound coming from the engine is superb. Suspension is rigid but comfortable. I felt the confidence to go faster on the corners and push for more. The 911 stands out not only for its handsome looks, but also for that great feeling of confidence that it delivers when you drive on windy roads.” – Miguel Cortina

“So, so, so capable on 198. But the trade-off of having such a highly capable car is that it’s quite a bore to drive in normal situations, which is likely how the 911 Turbo will be driven 91.1 percent of the time. It’s really boring on the road. But again, great car to drive hard.” – Erick Ayapana

“To me, this is the perfect driver’s car, in that you can do it all: drive for hours and hours on an interstate, then suddenly twist a dial to sport plus, put the hammer down, and the 911 leaps to life, assured, forceful, and pragmatically intense. It is so composed, so nailed down, so very fast, and so full of grip. There is never a hint that something might go awry. It squirts out of the apex and fills you with so much confidence. If you carry too much speed into a corner, lay into the brakes through that entry portion of the curve, and the 911 just tucks in and says, ‘Yeah sure, we got this.’” – Mark Rechtin

“My god it’s so capable and so easy. The engine almost feels lazy while piling on the speed. It’s really deceptive how powerful it truly is even at low rpm. It’s amazing how much confidence this car gives a driver. Not just the brakes, but the steering and the stability. The car shrinks around you and becomes an extension of you. I’m looking for a complaint, and I can’t find one.” – Chris Walton

“There’s a reason this car is at the top of the rankings in any competition. The 911 Turbo S is so amazingly competent on every level—without having any visible compromises—that it’s easy to forget how high its limits are. Right out of the box, the 911 Turbo S lets you drive as fast as you dare, brake as hard as you can, and turn as much as you wish. It doesn’t just inspire confidence … it inspires a relationship with the driver.” – Derek Powell

Randy Says

“Yeah, the 911 Turbo S was super great, but it almost seemed a little bit unsatisfying. Somehow? This 991.2 has so much more torque than the last GT3s, any GT3 I ever drove. And it’s just so satisfying to drive. The balance under power is amazing to me. Knowing how little weight is on those tires especially when you’re under about 0.9 g acceleration in second gear, and it doesn’t push under power. This car seems more rewarding to drive to me, and it really … it blows away some great cars. I guess ‘cause it’s easy? But it’s rewardingly easy. It’s not boring; it’s satisfying. It just makes me feel like I could drive better than I really can. I literally said that to myself, driving off of turn 11.

“In the slower corners, when the revs are down, there’s no sense of lag whatsoever. I love the way it’ll dig off the corner without understeer. I could go to the power really early, and I’d just know that a lot of cars would want to understeer under this condition. And it doesn’t, it just comes on. Just fascinatingly, thrillingly good.

“You have to be just a wee bit careful about entry oversteer. Don’t leave that weight on the nose for too long on a high speed corner. It takes a real specific combination of great on-the-nose, aggressive turn-in, and off throttle to bring the tail out. A couple of times when it came out it still was not scary. It was a pleasant experience. Back to the power, and there you go. I’m just really, really impressed.

“With PDKs you’re just wasting your time shifting manually. It might be fun just to do it for the fun of it, but it’s completely unnecessary to shift yourself. The brakes held up completely; even the tires held up. I mean, the loads, what they’re going through is mind-bending. The amount of speed, the amount of braking, and how hard those tires are worked—they still hold up. The car retains its balance. I just seem to be able to repeat my braking performance. I was in so deep a couple times halfway through the brakes I thought maybe I wouldn’t make this. But then it would slow down enough and ride into the apex, and away we’d go. It’s a nice, firm pedal, and that means the braking performance is repeatable. It also made me push it harder.

“I don’t feel the rear-steer except that, maybe, it’s my guess that it’s one of the ways they keep the front traction in the middle of the corner when it really shouldn’t have any, but the car responds to the steering wheel in the middle of the corner. Low-speed, high-speed, anything you want. I think I set my speed record over the corkscrew.

“It’s a real testament to what’s possible with modern technology when you are creating a sports car and you know what you’re doing. It’s an amazing piece of machinery. A living testament to how good a car can be with the stability control off.”

2017 Porsche 911 Turbo S POWERTRAIN/CHASSIS DRIVETRAIN LAYOUT Rear-engine, AWD ENGINE TYPE Twin-turbo flat-6, alum block/heads VALVETRAIN DOHC, 4 valves/cyl DISPLACEMENT 231.9 cu in/3,800 cc COMPRESSION RATIO 9.8:1 POWER (SAE NET) 580 hp @ 6,750 rpm TORQUE (SAE NET) 516 lb-ft @ 2,100 rpm* REDLINE 7,200 rpm WEIGHT TO POWER 6.1 lb/hp TRANSMISSION 7-speed twin-clutch auto. AXLE/FINAL-DRIVE RATIO 3.44:1(f) 3.33:1(r)/2.06:1 SUSPENSION, FRONT; REAR Struts, coil springs, adj shocks, anti-roll bar; multilink, coil springs, adj shocks, anti-roll bar STEERING RATIO 12.5-15.0:1 TURNS LOCK-TO-LOCK 2.5 BRAKES, F; R 16.1-in vented, drilled, carbon-ceramic disc; 15.4-in vented, drilled, carbon-ceramic disc, ABS WHEELS 9.0 x 20-in; 11.5 x 20-in forged aluminum TIRES 245/35ZR20 91Y; 305/30ZR20 103Y Pirelli P Zero Corsa N0 DIMENSIONS WHEELBASE 96.5 in TRACK, F/R 60.7/62.6 in LENGTH x WIDTH x HEIGHT 177.4 x 74.0 x 51.0 in TURNING CIRCLE 60.7/62.6 in CURB WEIGHT 3,557 lb WEIGHT DIST, F/R 39/61% SEATING CAPACITY 2+2 HEADROOM, F/R 37.7/32.2 in LEGROOM, F/R 42.2/27.1 in SHOULDER ROOM, F/R 51.3/47.9 in CARGO VOLUME 4.1 cu ft (+9.2 cu ft beh fr seats) TEST DATA ACCELERATION TO MPH 0-30 0.9 sec 0-40 1.4 0-50 1.9 0-60 2.5 0-70 3.3 0-80 4.1 0-90 5.1 0-100 6.2 0-100-0 9.7 PASSING, 45-65 MPH 1.3 QUARTER MILE 10.6 sec @ 129.6 mph BRAKING, 60-0 MPH 92 ft LATERAL ACCELERATION 1.05 g (avg) MT FIGURE EIGHT 22.9 sec @ 0.95 g (avg) 2.2-MI ROAD COURSE LAP 1:33.21 sec TOP-GEAR REVS @ 60 MPH 1,500 rpm CONSUMER INFO BASE PRICE $189,150 PRICE AS TESTED $196,360 STABILITY/TRACTION CONTROL Yes/Yes AIRBAGS 8: Dual front, fr side, fr curtain, fr knee BASIC WARRANTY 4 yrs/50,000 miles POWERTRAIN WARRANTY 4 yrs/50,000 miles ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE 4 yrs/50,000 miles FUEL CAPACITY 17.9 gal EPA CITY/HWY/COMB ECON 19/24/21 mpg from PerformanceJunk WP Feed 3 http://ift.tt/2wwa0dz via IFTTT

[othersportsnews-blog]

The science driving Africa's workforce and the Cavendish comeback

New Post has been published on https://othersportsnews.com/the-science-driving-africas-workforce-and-the-cavendish-comeback/

The science driving Africa's workforce and the Cavendish comeback

When a blood take a look at in April verified that the unaccounted-for exhaustion haunting Mark Cavendish was owing to an Epstein-Barr viral infection, Crew Dimension Knowledge experienced a trouble.

The Tour de France was just a few months away and their world-class sprinter was now in the grip of an unpredictable viral infection that could jeopardise his total period.

It can be challenging to around-point out the value of Cavendish to Crew Dimension Knowledge ­- without a doubt, to any workforce he may possibly trip for. Think about the Manxman’s record: An Olympic medallist and world champion on the keep track of, a world champion on the street, and the most thriving sprinter in Tour de France historical past.

In fact, his thirty Tour de France stage wins are second only to Eddy Merckx’s all-time record of 34. And Cavendish is even now only 32.

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Right after the Epstein-Barr virus (EBV) analysis, Cavendish followed health-related tips and rested. When he acquired the green light-weight to resume light-weight training, he experienced good times and terrible times. He was usually forced again into durations of total relaxation. It was 6 weeks prior to Cavendish could consider about training normally once again, and by then there were only 6 weeks still left prior to the Tour.

He eventually designed it to the start off line of the Tour de France, but his fitness was even now a operate in development. He put an impressive fourth in the Phase two dash, but two times later was caught up in a race-ending crash with Peter Sagan in the final 100m of Phase four. Whether or not the Cav Comeback could have ended in a desire Tour de France stage acquire was immediately relegated to the realm of speculation.

But Crew Dimension Knowledge, correctly self-styled as ‘Africa’s team’, are hardly created all-around just a single male. Their said aim, frequently articulated by workforce owner Doug Ryder, is to set an African rider on the podium of the Tour de France or to produce an African world champion on the street.

13 of Crew DiData’s recent riders are African (7 South Africans, 4 Eritreans, an Algerian and a Rwandan), though the remaining fifteen athletes hail from a few other continents: Europe, North America, and Australia.

And if DiData have only two Africans at the 2017 Tour de France (recent and previous South African champions Reinhardt Janse van Rensburg and Jaco Venter), the a few other Africans in the Tour peloton this yr – Louis Meintjes, Daryl Impey and Tsgabu Grmay – have all beforehand passed through the workforce.

No workforce has done a lot more to set African cycling on the map. From trailblazers like Adrien Niyonshuti (Rwanda) and Daniel Teklehaimanot (Eritrea), to foreseeable future stars these kinds of as Nic Dlamini (South Africa) and Merhawi Kudus (Eritrea), Crew DiData have prepared the e-book on how to tap into the extensive prospective of African cycling.

Combine that developmental know-how with the experience of functioning with a world-beater like Cavendish and the final result is a intriguing blend of coaching insights.

KweséESPN sat down with Dr Carol Austin, Crew Dimension Data’s head of functionality assist, and with workforce coach Dr Jon Baker, who works carefully with Cavendish, to hear some unique insider guidelines.

Peter Sagan, still left, moves past Mark Cavendish, who crashed all through the final extend of Tuesday’s Phase four of the Tour de France. AP Picture/Christophe Ena

1.How tricky are professional cyclists? “Just about every single rider in the Tour de France is a world-class bodily expertise,” suggests Dr Austin. “I do not feel there is any other sport that demands these kinds of a significant level of bodily conditioning and these kinds of excessive mental toughness.

“All these guys are prepared to force on their own to a different level of pain. Race routes are remarkably demanding in phrases of length, period, ascent and hazard, as well as excessive environmental problems.

“This is not a task it truly is a contacting. These riders really like what they do they wouldn’t be in a position to do it usually. It can be just also really hard.

“Pro cyclists also have to be threat-takers. If you might be also scared, you might be unlikely to be thriving. The threat-getting is calculated, based mostly on each individual rider’s capabilities and experience. Mark Cavendish picking to take that gap on Phase four was an illustration.

“Bunch sprints demand a unique mixture of bodily expertise, tactical smarts and fearlessness. The threat of crashing is significant and when you crash in a bunch at 60km/h, there is a real likelihood of serious harm.

“When Cav crashed on Phase four, I was relieved that his accidents were minimal to a fractured scapula, lacerated finger and abrasions. Crashing into the limitations at 60km/h and then becoming ridden around by a different bicycle owner heading at 60km/h could have resulted in considerably worse accidents. That’s the fact.”

two.What will make Mark Cavendish so exclusive? All Tour de France sprinters are mainly endurance athletes. They have to be, due to the fact prior to unleashing that rapid complete at around 90 p.c of peak ability output, they initial have to make it through 5 or 6 hours of racing. Unsurprisingly, Cavendish is a really effective, explosive rider.

“But he is also remarkable in phrases of in phrases of his aerodynamics in the final dash,” suggests Austin. “He is a modest person but through all his keep track of operate and his yrs of experience, he’s learned to reduce his drag by sprinting with his head down and shoulders decreased.”

A 2013 review by Italian sporting activities scientist Paolo Menaspa confirmed that if a bicycle owner can reduce his aerodynamic drag (chiefly by reducing the frontal region that generates air resistance) by as little as ten p.c, he can anticipate an improve in speed that will equate to a 3m benefit in a fourteen-second dash.

With sprints frequently becoming gained or misplaced by a subject of centimetres, Cavendish’s aerodynamic sprinting fashion is plainly a large asset.

In his assessment of what it takes to acquire a dash all through a grand tour, Menaspa also highlighted the value of workforce methods, exclusively the positioning of the sprinter and his teammates in the final kilometres.

Ideally, a sprinter would like to have two teammates primary him out in the final minute or kilometre of the race, with a single teammate even now at his disposal in the final thirty seconds. Similarly, the sprinter’s individual placement is important.

Acquiring analysed 31 dash stages all through the 2008-2011 grand tours, Menaspa concluded: “Not a single victory was received when the sprinter was even further again than ninth placement with a single minute to go. Similarly, no sprints were gained if the sprinter wasn’t in the leading 6 at thirty seconds to go.”

This is what Austin indicates when she talks about Cavendish’s split-second selection-earning: “Cav is remarkable in how he works with the workforce. He has a lengthy-standing partnership with his direct-out guys, significantly Mark Renshaw, and when issues do not go perfectly, he’s in a position to wing it by himself. It can be all about becoming in the proper put at the proper time, and heading particularly in which you will need to go.”

Dr Jon Baker identifies a single final ingredient to Cavendish’s ability-set: “Absolutely, he requires to be really good at sprinting, but the relaxation of the time he’s just surfing wheels and following his teammates.

“I do not want to say it truly is easy, but his ability output all through a stage is often a single of the most affordable. Mark is really effective in the peloton. He is really good at conserving electrical power and he has really good teammates who shelter him from the wind. He floats all-around and then wins races. It can be incredible.”

Daniel Teklehaimanot of Eritrea EPA/KIM LUDBROOK

three. For a young rider, what is essential to make it as a professional? “If you have not designed it in European racing by the time you might be 22,” cautions Austin, “the chance of getting your way into a professional vocation turns into trim. ‘Making it’ indicates undertaking in European UCI-sanctioned races.

“In 2016, the Dimension Knowledge Continental workforce was set up to assist this improvement pathway. Our Conti workforce consists of ten African riders, who are predominantly U23. We produce these riders around a two- to 4-yr period of time working with a science-based mostly, progressive tactic, as well as by racing in Europe.

“When we detect African expertise for our Continental workforce, we glimpse at a rider’s physiological profile and his UCI race historical past. European races are much more time and more challenging than even significant-profile regional events, so we’re hunting for riders who can take on this level of challenge and competitors.

“If you do make it onto our Continental workforce, you then have to take issues really critically from that stage onwards in buy to get an possibility with a Pro-Continental or Planet Tour workforce by the stop of your U23 vocation.

“Getting a professional demands significant stages of self-control and determination at an age when most kids are even now discovering, going through and experimenting. You can find really not much window for partying all through the yr – possibly two or a few weeks at the stop of the period.”

four. Powering the scenes, what do cycling fans rarely see? “Really several folks have an understanding of how demanding the journey is,” suggests Austin. “The journey is pretty unglamorous. Sleeping, packing up, moving on – occasionally all through the Tour, the riders have no idea in which they are in France. It can be a blur they are living in the moment.

“From time to time the accommodations are good, occasionally they are awful. For a third of the yr you might be living out of a suitcase. From the outdoors, the Tour de France looks completely glamorous. On the within, it truly is actually a lot more like glamping (glamorous camping).”

five. What variety of training does the Tour de France desire? Set just, in buy to race 3500km, a bicycle owner initial requires to be in a position to train that length. States Austin: “From the age of 18, we’re moving most of our Below-23 riders from training about 1 800km for each thirty day period to two 500km for each thirty day period. At Planet Tour level, the normal expectation is an average of two 500km for each thirty day period.”

What does that equate to in hours? “As 18-yr-olds, we’re moving them from training possibly sixty hours for each thirty day period to persistently carrying out in between 80 and a hundred hours for each thirty day period on our Planet Tour workforce. Which indicates, on average, about 1 000 hours or in between 28 0000 and 32 000km for each yr.��

South Africa’s Louis Meintjies PHILIPPE LOPEZ/AFP/Getty Photos

six. Is it only about the miles? “You can find the bodily adaptation, and then there is mastering about efficiency and methods,” explains Austin. “”Efficiency indicates carrying out as little as attainable to get from the start off of the race to the complete, though even now providing on your individual race part.

“Mark Cavendish is a learn of this. Through a race, Cav does as little as attainable until finally it really counts. Steve Cummings is a different illustration. He races really clever when his working day arrives, he presents anything and has a significant amount of success.

“Efficiency is a little something that develops around time. A great deal of capabilities will need to be obtained along the way. Much more seasoned riders use the slipstream of the peloton and coast or smooth-pedal for fifteen – twenty five p.c of a race. They anticipate and respond to the difficulties and alternatives that participate in out in a race and are typically a lot more comfortable.

“In contrast, young riders tend to do a lot more operate. As a final result of weak positioning, they could only coast or smooth-pedal for six – fifteen p.c of a race. They could be less proficient in descending, which benefits in a lot more time and electrical power invested chasing again. They may possibly anxiety shedding the peloton if they go again to the workforce auto to accumulate bottles and foodstuff.

“As a final result, they can stop up underneath-nourished or underneath-hydrated which limitations their in-race functionality and article-race recovery. To be in a position to trip through the automobiles or to decide on up a musette, to defend proficiently or to descend proficiently – it takes time and European racing to find out these capabilities.

“Louis Meintjes was the swiftest-establishing rider we’ve ever seen on our workforce. When we took him to his initial Tour de France, he was 23 yrs aged. But he experienced been creating to that for a few yrs and experienced UCI benefits heading again to 2009, when he was seventeen. Louis is a really calculated rider. He is familiar with his limitations and respects them. He is clever, and he’s even now considerably from his vocation peak.”

seven. How did Cavendish pull off his epic comeback from EBV? Crew Dimension Data’s doctors could not forecast the course of the EBV infection, or Cavendish’s recovery timeline. But they knew that only relaxation and supportive cure (painkillers, anti-inflammatories, suitable hydration) would get Cavendish to the stage of becoming asymptomatic adequate to start off training once again.

“The recovery programme was really centered on Mark’s perceptions of how he was sensation,” explains Baker. “He would get up some mornings and say, ‘I truly feel shattered nowadays. I can not do this’. So then it was a working day or two off. Or, if he went out using and actually felt ok, he’d do a little bit a lot more.

“Ordinarily, we operate a lot more scientifically: you know how much load a rider can take and you can force that restrict just adequate, every working day or 7 days or thirty day period. But with EBV you do not really know in which that restrict is. It can be a perception, and it doesn’t demonstrate up so well in the ability data.

“Even though Mark is an incredible sprinter, cycling is an endurance sport. If he can not trip 200km, he’s not heading to be there at the stop to contest the dash. Great aerobic endurance is significant so it was really much about volume training fairly than depth.

“Mark would do zero hours for each 7 days, then ten hours for each 7 days for a 7 days or two, then fifteen hours for a 7 days or two, then 20 hours for a 7 days or two. But it wasn’t a clear-minimize, linear build-up. It was a lot more about mini-blocks and phases to get again to two hours a working day, then two and a fifty percent hours a working day, then a few hours a working day.

“About midway through, Mark started carrying out two sessions a working day: an hour and a fifty percent in the morning, then a different hour or so in the evening. So he would even now get a a few- to 4-hour trip in all through that working day, even although he could not handle it all at the moment. The course of action was all Mark-led.”

Mark Cavendish LIONEL BONAVENTURE/AFP/Getty Photos

eight. What can novice riders find out from ‘the Cav cure’? “First, have an understanding of in which you might be setting up from,” suggests Baker. “Evaluate your level of fitness on Working day 1, and then glimpse at the training that is proper for that.

“With Mark, at the start off we possibly assumed he was fitter than he was, presented the consequences of EBV. Maybe we did also much also soon. Being aware of in which you are when you start off is really essential.

“Then, glimpse at in which your intention is and, functioning backwards, determine out what is crucial for that event. The Tour de France was Mark’s intention, so having the endurance to get to the complete was most essential. Guaranteeing Mark’s overall body body weight was matched to his ability to get around the hills was also essential – and the identical goes for most amateurs.

“There really wasn’t an awful great deal of dash training due to the fact that sort of point enhances really promptly with most riders. You can make rather even bigger gains in peak ability in a couple of weeks, whereas it takes months to get endurance and climbing strength.

“To drop body weight, possibly you train a little little bit a lot more every 7 days to burn off energy, or consume less junk foodstuff. Set periodic objectives and every couple of weeks examine how you might be progressing and alter if essential.

“You also will need to be in a position to offer with hiccups. Maybe you skip a 7 days of training due to the fact of operate – that comes about. Mark missed a couple of weeks through the ailment. So we explained, ‘Okay, this has transpired, let’s re-alter and be flexible’. Do not be rigid. Getting in a position to go with what daily life throws at you is essential.”

nine. Exactly where to now for Cavendish? Right after carrying out all the operate to defy Epstein-Barr virus, to get to the Tour de France and then be significantly aggressive in the sprints, it must have been a bitterly disappointing experience to crash out. How to re-group?

“Mentally, I am certain he’s let down,” suggests Baker. “It can be a setback, but he’s been through these issues and I am certain he’ll go through it once again, sadly. This is a really hard sport.

“Physically, with these higher overall body accidents, although you have acquired a broken bone, you can even now trip on the indoor trainer. I’d anticipate Mark to again to his pre-crash type in a 7 days or so.

“He’ll be let down but he’ll be hunting for new objectives. Mark is really intention-oriented. He’ll be hunting at the calendar and declaring, ‘Okay, possibly I can acquire a little something listed here, or listed here.’ I consider he’ll be beneficial and hunting forwards. He’ll be hunting to make the largest comeback he can.”

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Man fighting for life in Derriford after hit-and-run

A 25-yr-vintage Man is combating for his existence in Derriford Health facility after a hit-and-run in South Devon.

Police are investigating the incident which took place at 00.55am on Saturday morning in Westridge Street, Kingsteignton.

The man suffered existence threatening injuries inside the collision. The automobile involved failed to prevent at the scene. Giving Up Grandma – A Fight For existence, A Combat For Dying

First, she stated she was feeling a bit “beneath the weather.” She did seem slightly paler than standard but, with flu season upon us, we chalked this minor exchange in skin coloration as much as not anything greater than “she have to have caught whatever is going around.”

Then, she complained of ache inside the mid-to-lower right facet of her stomach. This ache, she stated, regarded to “wrap-around” the right side of her body, inflicting soreness in each the front and back. “Likely just sore ribs,” we concluded, “she has been coughing an awful lot recently.”

Subsequent, terrible bouts of nausea became a frequent traveler. Even though she by no means physically vomited, those episodes alone had been extra than enough to leave her simply bedridden and constantly within near variety of a “barf bucket.” Right now we felt we ought to not count on an easy flu nailed her, however, rather, that her symptoms had been because of a “tons more difficult-to-kick-than-regular” belly flu.

Negative Grandma, we notion, for someone 83 years of age, when even the minor-est of flu’ may be difficult to triumph over, she now needed to deal with an excellent more enemy then we at the beginning first concept; a dreadful belly flu, one among which changed into wreaking terrible havoc on her body and one of which regularly had her crippled over in ache, had her in its grip so tightly we were unsure if it would ever allow going. Darn flu, besides!

Our force to the Health center changed into one taken in nearly perfect silence, neither my husband nor I within the proper frame of mind to truly communicate. Photos of grandma; scared, crying and screaming out in terrible ache, consumed my mind with such depth that any sights to be seen outdoor our truck home windows went unseen thru my eyes. The shopping mall, movie complex, several restaurants, and numerous fuel stations…All flashed by using in a blur, omitted. while we reached the Medical institution not greater than twenty mins later, I used to be nearly in disbelief at “how” we were given there, my memory of the trip, not anything extra than just a “blip” on a radar display screen. Once internal, however, I did now not want my reminiscence to serve as a reminder as to “why” we were there; crisp white uniforms, sickly faded inexperienced partitions and the heavy smell of disinfectant lingering within the air made me very conscious.

We were at the Health center, we had been here for grandma and grandma was going to die…soon.

I appeared over at my husband, supplied a vulnerable smile and took his hand in mine. “K, permit’s try this,” I said, with extra conviction in my voice then I felt. With a nod of his head, he again my smile, placed an arm around my shoulders and we have been off, headed for room 517.

We reached our destination mere moments later and, Although I attempted to stay calm, coming face-to-face with the door to grandma’s room sent a rush of panic through my frame so harsh that it left me in a close to the frenzied nation. Abruptly, I felt “detached” from the rest of the arena, as though not anything and nobody around me existed anymore. I should see, I should pay attention, I may want to odor; but, my senses seemed to have gone awry, making my head spin and leaving me to feel faint. Terrified, my frame shook uncontrollably and nausea filled my gut. With no actual affirmation of what we might discover As soon as we entered the room I had only my expectancies to depend upon and, of my expectations, none had been nowhere near the quality. The truth turned into, this changed into no sports display; there were no “winning doorways” for me to select from and no prize awaited me on the opposite aspect. I took a deep breath to relax and, with one very shaky hand, reached out, grew to become the knob and started out to open the door.

Laughter!

What the heck? Why do I listen laughter and who might be laughing at a time like this? I was bowled over! Wow, the nerve of some people. Grandma is on this room, loss of life, and a person in the very identical room is actually…guffawing? How dare they? How dare they come into this room and make so mild of what is going on? Do they now not understand what a hard time that is and do they not care? My God, my Negative, candy, terrific grandma…”how I sure do wish you cannot pay attention what’s taking region around you at this very second.” Now, not only shocked but aggravated as properly, I may want to infrequently wait to give the “offender(s)” a bit of my mind so I readied myself for a confrontation, flung the door open huge and charged into the room at complete velocity.

“GRANDMA?” I gasped! “What…What are you doing away from bed?”

In one nook of the room, Next to the window, sat grandma. She sat in a vinyl chair, her frail body buried under a mountain of blankets, carrying the maximum lovely smile on her face. I could not agree with my eyes! I had fully anticipated to locate her mendacity in bed, doped up on painkillers and, much more likely than now not, unconscious to the arena. Boy, was I wrong! On both aspect of her sat my mother, my brother, an aunt and an uncle and several different relatives, all engrossed inside the memories she become telling of “days long past by using” and all of the even as she beamed from ear-to-ear. Wow, what a stunning sight! however, even greater lovely was the hearty laughter that escaped her lips at the same time as she acknowledged those activities. Sure, laughter and, Sure, grandma changed into none apart from one of the “perpetrator(s)” herself. This discovery, I quickly found out, would grow to be one among which I might treasure for all time.

“Oh, the kids are right here,” grandma introduced with a smile. “Are available, youngsters, Are available and deliver grandma a hug.”

As asked, my husband and i went over to grandma and we took her into our hands, maintaining her tight And not using a desire to permit pass. I found the warm temperature of her body comforting but, as for the gentle fragrance of plants on her skin, no longer a lot. My old’ manufacturing unit senses at once recognized the heady scent as a fragrance she often wore and, when the realization I might by no means breath that heady scent from her pores and skin again hit me, it hit me difficult. Beaten by way of grief, I crumpled deep into grandma’s fingers and allow the tears go with the flow. Squeezing me tight, she cooed, “Now, now, no tears, toddler, everything might be nice.” How ironic, I notion, I had come here to consolation grandma in her time of need but, now, it become her who changed into comforting me.

“How, grandma, how? How is the entirety going to be first-class?” I whimpered, “you are…Leaving us!”

“Leaving you? Oh no, pricey,” she countered. “I’m no longer leaving you, I am simply loss of life.”

Then, inside the gentle-spoken voice of hers that I was so familiar with, she went directly to explain to me, in depth, her emotions on lifestyles, Dying and existence-after-Death. I found out that now not most effective was grandma extra than ready to die, I found out that she was additionally very tons “searching forward” to it. In Reality, when first given the information approximately her quickly-to-take-region impending Demise, she instructed me she felt a combination of pleasure, exhilaration and remedy. “I’ve had a terrific life here on the planet,” she stated, “however my bones are antique and my frame aches, I am geared up to move on and join grandpa, the exchange will do me desirable.” Grandpa had surpassed away 13 years in advance and, after his Demise, there has been not anything grandma wanted extra then to be reunited with him another time. With the inevitable soon to arrive, and along with her robust non secular beliefs, she felt very relaxed in feeling that this reunion turned into truly on the agenda. Without worry, issues or worries, Dying knocked at her door and she or he become best too glad to welcome it in.

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Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio: 6th Place – 2017 Motor Trend Best Driver’s Car

It’s more than a roll-off-the-tongue mouthful. The Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio is here to put Mercedes, BMW, Jaguar, and Cadillac on notice. The Giulia was the only sedan in this year’s competition, and it never once blinked at its supercar foes. The big gun in its arsenal: a 2.9-liter twin-turbocharged V-6 pounding out 505 horsepower and 443 lb-ft of torque. The only transmission option is an eight-speed automatic with closely spaced gear ratios backed up by an electronically controlled limited-slip differential. An auto-opening sport exhaust keeps things loud, and adjustable dampers keep the tires pressed into the pavement. Carbon-ceramic brakes are optional (we went for them), and regardless of material, the brakes are electronically actuated, not mechanically. At 3,749 pounds, the Giulia is lighter than several of the two-door cars in this test. It’s Best Driver’s Car week! Keep it on MotorTrend.com this week as we count down the finishing order of our contenders this year and share bonus content you’ll only find right here. Between the curb weight and the powertrain, acceleration is a strong suit. Sixty mph is cleared in 3.9 seconds and the quarter mile in 12.1 seconds at 119.8 mph. The brake-by-wire system hauls it from 60 mph to 0 in 100 feet. On the skidpad it’ll pull an average 0.98 g, and on the figure eight it’ll do a 24.2-second lap at 0.84 average g. We Say “The car is wonderfully responsive and emits quite the cacophony of sounds. There is a wide array of cracks and pops: not sure if the car is in ecstasy or pain and whether it is intoxicating or disturbing. However, this is a car that does not like to drive slow and can chug and lurch in low gears. The steering in particular is incredible, almost to the point of being too twitchy. Don’t sneeze, or else you’ll veer off the road.” – Alisa Priddle “So much balance and poise. Running up 198 in the Alfa felt like a ballerina on her way to winning Olympic gold in the 100-meter hurdles. When I attacked a corner a tad too hot, I expected a ton of understeer, but somehow the Alfa pointed itself in the right direction. This is a car you can drive hard and confidently. The engine is super eager, though I wasn’t completely enamored with its buzzy engine note.” – Erick Ayapana Read about other 2017 Best Driver’s Car contenders: Mercedes-AMG GT R Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport Lexus LC 500 Aston Martin DB11 Nissan GT-R NISMO Mazda MX-5 Miata RF McLaren 570GT “The easy, obvious, no questions asked, hands down winner of best driver’s sedan. You’re more insulated from sound and the sensation of velocity than with the rest of the contenders, but a quick peek down at the speedo reveals that you’re hitting 911 Turbo speeds. It could use a head-up display for that reason, because if you’re shifting gears yourself, above 5,000 rpm the engine note doesn’t change. Power is deceptive, grip is AWD-like, joy is high. I love this thing. Although, in this competition it feels large. “A midpack car for me, but only based on the quality of the rest of the competition. I have nothing bad to say about this amazing sedan.” – Jonny Lieberman “Best-driving sedan you can buy, full stop. Makes several of these sports coupes seem boring. Steers like a super car. Super quick and precise. Wonderful chassis to back it up. Feels so light and nimble. “Great power, right up until it decided to impose a new 5,000-rpm rev limiter instead of 6,800. No warnings, no nothing. It just would not rev above 5k in any gear. Put it back in auto, and it downshifted and put the revs over 6, but then it wouldn’t give me any throttle until they came back down. It turns out it’s an overheat protection mode we tripped on the last run of the day. When it’s cool, it revs very, very quick. I found myself running out of revs several times. It feels like it wants to keep pulling. “Fantastic grip all around. It doesn’t want to let go, and ESC keeps you on point without making itself known.” – Scott Evans “This might be the best handling sedan I have driven in 25 years of automotive journalism. The way it puts down power, the way it reacts with a snap to attention, the way it never seems to be caught unaware. Be wary of soft brakes when the car is cold, which can catch you out. It’s a little bit turbulent over frost heaves. But that is just part of the fun. You can’t believe a sedan is actually doing this level of work; there is so much room behind the driver for passengers, plus a Costco-ready trunk. And yet the Giulia is going toe to toe with world-class supercars.” – Mark Rechtin Randy Says “I think that there is maybe some very sophisticated controls operating beneath the surface. Probably electronics that vary how the car behaves. It changes its balance. Sometimes it’s really super neutral; it turns supernaturally. I’m thinking that’s the diff because it’s a sensation I don’t normally feel. The car is not turning just from the front. It’s yawing right around the center. I didn’t like the inconsistency because I never knew what I was going to get. I seemed like the harder I drove it, the less of that yaw effect I had, and it just turned into a pretty strong midcorner understeer. And it put down power very well—it has a lot of power. It is hard-working little motor. “It felt like it had a ton of grip. It just varied. Same with the braking. Sometimes it stopped really, really well, sometimes not as much. A couple times I felt more braking come in right near the end with no change in pedal pressure. In fact, it was late enough in both the corners that I was probably releasing pedal pressure. And it came in harder. Which is, I think, something the Alfa does. You get beyond a point on the pressure, and you don’t get any more brake, you probably get more ABS. “I like the car, it’s very sporting. And it sounded good, ran through the gears, and the transmission shifted terrifically. It likes to be driven aggressively. It rewards it.” 2017 Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio POWERTRAIN/CHASSIS DRIVETRAIN LAYOUT Front-engine, RWD ENGINE TYPE Twin-turbo 90-deg V-6 alum block/heads VALVETRAIN DOHC, 4 valves/cyl DISPLACEMENT 176.4 cu in/2,891 cc COMPRESSION RATIO 9.3:1 POWER (SAE NET) 505 hp @ 6,500 rpm TORQUE (SAE NET) 443 lb-ft @ 2,500 rpm REDLINE 6,500 rpm WEIGHT TO POWER 7.4 lb/hp TRANSMISSION 8-speed automatic AXLE/FINAL-DRIVE RATIO 3.09:1/1.98:1 SUSPENSION, FRONT; REAR Multilink, coil springs, adj shocks, anti-roll bar; multilink, coil springs, adj shocks, anti-roll bar STEERING RATIO 11.8:1 TURNS LOCK-TO-LOCK 2.3 BRAKES, F; R 15.4-in vented, drilled, carbon-ceramic disc; 14.2-in vented, drilled, carbon-ceramic disc, ABS WHEELS, F;R 8.5 x 19-in; 10.0 x 19-in forged aluminum TIRES, F;R 245/35R19 93Y; 285/30R19 98Y Pirelli P Zero Corsa AR Asimmetrico (Tread 60) DIMENSIONS WHEELBASE 111.0 in TRACK, F/R 61.2/63.3 in LENGTH x WIDTH x HEIGHT 182.6 x 73.7 x 56.1 in TURNING CIRCLE 37.5 ft CURB WEIGHT 3,749 lb WEIGHT DIST, F/R 53/47% SEATING CAPACITY 5 HEADROOM, F/R 38.6/37.6 in LEGROOM, F/R 42.4/35.1 in SHOULDER ROOM, F/R 56.1/53.6 in CARGO VOLUME 13.4 cu ft TEST DATA ACCELERATION TO MPH 0-30 1.6 sec 0-40 2.3 0-50 3.1 0-60 3.9 0-70 4.8 0-80 5.9 0-90 7.1 0-100 8.5 0-100-0 12.3 PASSING, 45-65 MPH 1.6 QUARTER MILE 12.1 sec @ 119.8 mph BRAKING, 60-0 MPH 100 ft LATERAL ACCELERATION 0.98 g (avg) MT FIGURE EIGHT 24.2 sec @ 0.84 g (avg) 2.2-MI ROAD COURSE LAP 1:39.65 sec TOP-GEAR REVS @ 60 MPH 1,600 rpm CONSUMER INFO BASE PRICE $73,595 PRICE AS TESTED $88,245 STABILITY/TRACTION CONTROL Yes/Yes AIRBAGS 8: Dual front, front side, f/r curtain, front knee BASIC WARRANTY 4 yrs/50,000 miles POWERTRAIN WARRANTY 4 yrs/50,000 miles ROADSIDE ASSISTANCE 4 yrs/Unlimited miles FUEL CAPACITY 15.3 gal EPA CITY/HWY/COMB ECON 17/24/20 mpg ENERGY CONS, CITY/HWY 198/140 kW-hrs/100 miles CO2 EMISSIONS, COMB 0.99 lb/mile RECOMMENDED FUEL Unleaded premium The post Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio: 6th Place – 2017 Motor Trend Best Driver’s Car appeared first on Motor Trend.

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The alternative 2016 sports awards: the years best quotes, gaffes and meltdowns

https://clearwatergolfclub.com/the-alternative-2016-sports-awards-the-years-best-quotes-gaffes-and-meltdowns/

The alternative 2016 sports awards: the years best quotes, gaffes and meltdowns

Your investment medal tables: it had been another big year for sporting soap opera. The quotes, the rows and also the capybaras that made yesteryear 12 several weeks special

Star of the season

Cristiano Ronaldo won a 4th Ballon dOr, launched a variety of CR7 blankets, tossed a microphone into a lake, inspired a tantrum meme, and located the eras defining football press conference, using the press banned from asking them questions. He denied it had been his idea to possess the questions resulting from a Uefa media officer rather: I decide nothing. Also, he made an appearance to goes a magic fully-created Euro 2016 TV graphic during Portugals quarter-final. Perfect.

Ian Finch (@FinchIan)

Not only a skilful player, Ronaldo may also gob out a replay wipe #POLPOR pic.twitter.com/UC44YRv5TA

June 30, 2016

Manager of the season

Claudio Ranieri, using the edge off 2016.Hey, man, dilly-ding, dilly-dong. Seriously! Former Ranieri player Gianfranco Zola revealed the saying was attempted and tested. Hes always stated dilly-ding, dilly-dong. Hes a vibrant guy. Initially when i first heard it’ understood what he meant. He explained it a lot of occasions.

Modern footballer of the season

Lots of contenders, but two Rental property men share the title: club captain Gabby Agbonlahor, relegated on the nitrous oxide legal high 2 yrs after extending his Rental property deal because: I get that very same buzz pulling around the Rental property shirt, and team-mate Joleon Lescott, who livened up last seasons harsh run-in by tweeting a photograph of a sports car following a 6- defeat and telling the press how going lower would be a real weight off the shoulders. He left on the free in August.

Also standing his ground: Poultry midfielder Ozan Tufan upset with media critique throughout the Euros after he was caught on camera doing his hair as Croatias Luka Modric formed as much as score before him. I do not get the way a single moment by which I actually do my locks are considered an error. It damages my confidence.

Best Olympic moment

Recording the atmosphere: Nikki Hamblin and Abbey DAgostino helping one another finish Rios 5,000m after colliding mid-race. Hamblin: After I went lower it had been like: Whats happening? Why shall we be held on the floor? And all of a sudden theres this hands on my small shoulder. That girl may be the Olympic spirit, immediately.

Story from the summer time

Syrian teen Yusra Mardini winning her heat within the 100m butterfly for that Refugee Team in Rio, annually after surviving the capsize of the six-man dinghy transporting 20 refugees towards Lesbos. This is actually awesome there are plenty of tales about me now and lots of people who wish to take my picture: its assisting to spread our message. This doesn’t stop here This isn’t the finish.

Most off-message

1) US womens football star Hope Solo, reflecting on their own Rio quarter-final defeat to Norway: We performed a courageous game but we performed a lot of cowards. The very best team didn’t win, I strongly, firmly think that. They wont allow it to be far. They provided the ultimate. And 2) The uniform golfers delivering their pre-Games causes of not likely to Rio. Rory McIlroy: Though the chance of infection in the Zika virus is recognized as low, it’s a risk nevertheless. Dustin Manley: My concerns concerning the Zika virus can’t be overlooked. Jason Day: The only reason behind my decision may be the danger to future people in our family. And Vijay Singh: I must take part in the Olympic games, however the Zika virus, you realize everything crap.

Best change of direction

Originated from Sepp Blatters substitute at Fifa, Gianni Infantino calling his new pay deal evidence of its emerging anti-avarice culture. Infantino stated his modest contract 1.15m fundamental plus bonuses, vehicle, house, 1,542-a-month expenses and funding for just one-off costs for example 1,100 for any tuxedo and 660 on flowers reflects greater than any word can reflect my strong will to finish recent conduct.

Former Fifa man of the season

Most relaxed because the FBI required a grip: former Concacaf mind Jeffrey Webb, who located a Harlem Renaissance-themed blackjack party in Feb while under house arrest in the Georgia mansion he bought with fraud money. Webb, looking for sentencing next May, required the Concacaf presidency this year pledging to attract a line underneath the organisations shameful Jack Warner era: We must move the clouds, and let the sunshine in.

Interview of the season

Gary and Paul ODonovan, live on RT in August after winning Irelands first rowing gold discussing the craic, Nutella, peeing in cups, how you can row (close your vision and pull just like a dog), and just how sad they believed to stay in Rio simply because they were missing the Rio-themed parties in Skibbereen. Recently these were named RT Sport Team of the season, appeared inside a new documentary Pull Just like a Dog, were interviewed for Graham Nortons New Years Eve BBC1 show, and named as Britains most Googled Irish-related search phrase within the entire 2016. Gary: Its funny the way in which its labored out.

Best commentary moments

Icelands Euro 2016 coverage, which from Irelands Cathal Dennehy and Ronan Duggan, live streaming Aprils Irish Universities Athletics Association womens 4 x 400m dramatic relay final being an outsider billed in the depths of hell to victory. Dennehy accepted later hed achieved a pitch approximately your dog whistle along with a squealing pig All of us lost the brain.

Worst commentary moments

1) Canadas Olympic broadcaster CBC apologising in August after their swimming commentator known as the entire mens 200m individual medley mistaking Michael Phelps for Ryan Lochte and 2) John Virgo, confident he was off-air during BBC1s live coverage of Mark Selby and Marco Fus epic contest at snookers World Championship in April: I wanted to watch a bit of racing this afternoon. Ill be lucky to look at some fucking Match during the day. Spokesman: Hes embarrassed and apologetic.

Pundit of the season

The clip that never grows old. Skys Steve McClaren in June, together with his in-play analysis of Englands reaction to Icelands equaliser: It has been the right response from England. You simply think: Not a problem, begin anew, keep dominating, keep getting pressure around the Iceland back four the only real factor they have got may be the big boy in advance Sigurdsson, nobody Sigthorsson Oh, ohhh

Best attitude

Mike Allardyce negotiating the 400,000 top-up that ended his 67-day England reign. He guaranteed undercover reporters hed deliver their pretend clients keynote speaking, thats what Id do, Im a keynote speaker plus good value not only the keynote speech but additionally within the bar after. I do not are available in like many of them, bang, youre off. What happens I am talking about? Im likely to stand in the bar. Possess a couple of social drinks.

Best protest

Charlton and Coventry fans, staging some pot protest in October against both clubs boards by hurling hundreds of plastic pigs in the pitch. @CAFCofficial, 3.02pm: Play is stopped. Pigs on pitch. 3.03pm: (A fantasy ones).

Social networking awards

Best live tweeting: 1) Danny Willetts brother Pete, watching the Masters in April with tweets including: Without words. I once punched that kid in the head for hurting my pet rat. Now look and: Ive shared a shower having a Masters champion. His Ryder Cup online preview in September which branded US fans pudgy, filthy cretins along with a baying mob of imbeciles didnt go down so well. 2) @hastingsufc, remaining professional from the odds in October: Apologies for insufficient updates / Ive been stung with a wasp. Even game, no significant chances. 3) And Icelands @rvkgrapevine, giving one minute-by-minute evaluation of keeper Hannes Halldorssons summer time performance against Portugal. dinns breath propelled our heroic goalkeeper to swat away that weak-ass header and: Goalkeeper Such As The High cliff FACE AT DYRHOLAEY The Only Real Factor Which Will DESTROY HIM IS CENTURIES OF Seaside EROSION.

Most sincere tweet: Sunderlands Victor Anichebe, copying and pasting an excessive amount of what his PR team sent him after Octobers defeat to West Pork @VictorAnichebe: Are you able to tweet something similar to: Unbelievable support yesterday and great effort through the lads! Hard lead to take! But we go again!

Most confused: Californian Facebook user Petra Fyde, asking her buddies and family in June: At the chance of sounding stupid How come a lot of strange men within my facebook inbox saying WILL GRIGGS Burning, YOUR DEFENSE IS PETRA FYDE?????? What the heck is happening?

And also the best-crafted pledge: @Joey7Barton, 24 May: To be a Ranger would be to sense the sacred trust of upholding everything this type of name means within this shrine of football. 15 Sep: I apologise unreservedly.

Frederick Barton (@Joey7Barton)

To become a Ranger would be to sense the sacred trust of upholding everything this type of name means within this shrine of football. pic.twitter.com/nb5yTKq420

May 24, 2016

Best put-lower

Andy Murray in August, requested by John Inverdale: Youre the very first person to ever win two Olympic tennis golds, thats an remarkable task, is it not? Murray: I believe Venus and Serena have won four each. @jk_rowling: Murray just advised John Inverdale that ladies are people too.

Best analysis

One of the footballers reacting to Brexit in June: @PetrCech:It appears as though the greatest decision within the good reputation for the united states is made with different fake campaign and lies. Italys Giorgio Chiellini:The primary problem is an eventual domino effect. I do not think the straightforward United kingdom exit can alter the equilibrium from the whole European economy, besides the acid reflux everyones feeling. I believe the discontent shouldnt result in disintegration. Jermaine Pennant @pennant83: Now we’re not in Europe whats going to take place using the next euros 2018??? And Nolito: What’s Brexit? I believe its dancing. I might be wrong.

Wisest words

25 November:England coach Eddie Johnson, hailing wing Elliot Daly within the buildup for their game against Argentina: He is doing stuff you dont coach. 26 November:Daly sent off after five minutes.

Sharpest PR

Rio 2016 spokesperson Mario Andrada explaining why organisers couldnt be anticipated to simply fix the eco-friendly water within the pool overnight: Chemistry isn’t an exact science.

Best customer support

In August Englands slow over-rate against Pakistan motivated spectator Alexis Larger to tweet: I would like 10% of my money-back. Wouldnt visit football and discover it ended after 80mins. Alex Hales tweeted back: ok DM me your bank details then transferred 4.10.

Miss of the season

Italys Simone Zaza tiptoeing his way to stardom in the place against Germany in the Euros the summers single greatest non-Ronaldo meme. Among the remixes: Zaza like a seagull rubber stamping for worms, Zaza doing Olympic dressage, and Zaza inside a queue for that toilet. Zaza: Regrettably the ball went excessive. It will likely be beside me throughout my existence.

Single worst moment of 2016

Setting a dark tone for Trump, Brexit, Farage and exactly what adopted Germany coach Joachim Lws distressing televised in-trouser scratch and sniff routine in mid-June. Im sorry for this. When you’re filled with adrenaline, unexpected things happen that you simply dont see. I’ll attempt to behave differently later on.

President of the season

Palermos 74-year-old owner Maurizio Zamparini entered 2016 searching to place his coach-eater image to sleep. Heres the way it unfolded:

10 Jan: Zamparini denies hes already feeling twitchy about his new coach Davide Ballardini. I won’t sack him, despite the fact that I possibly could. 11 Jan: Sacks him and hires Guillermo Barros Schelotto. 11 February:Finds out Schelotto hasn’t got his badges and hires Giovanni Bosi rather. 15 February: Sacks Bosi and rehires Giuseppe Iachini, who he sacked in November. 8 Marly:Calls Iachini a fool that has gone mad and replaces him with Walter Novellino. 12 Apr:Sacks Novellino, rehires Ballardini. People say Ive gone mad, but Im the victim here. 6 Sep: Hires Roberto de Zerbi after Ballardini resigns two games in to the season. 28 November:Denies he already has his doubts about De Zerbi. I’ll keep him. That’s my decision. 30 November: Sacks De Zerbi to be pitiful and hires Eugenio Corini to determine out a hard year. Why Corini? There wasnt much on the market.

Most British moment

In April West Indies needed an unlikely 19 in the final to win the planet T20 and Englands Ben Stokes was the person using the ball in the hands to shut the result. Four balls and 4 Carlos Brathwaite sixes later, it had been over. I send Ben commiserations, stated Brathwaite. Hes a complete legend.

Most unpredicted hero

Marcus Willbomb Willis, world No775 as he stunned Wimbledon and, almost, Roger Federer sticking it to trolls who dubbed him Cartman because of his big bones. His Wimbledon run ended having a cheque for 30,000. It is the greatest pay day Ive ever endured. I’m able to repay a few charge cards now.

Chant of the season

Huh! by Iceland. Also worth a mention: tactics-minded Carlisle fans having a Peter Andre-themed message to manager Keith Curle: Woah-oh-oh-oh, Mysterious Curle, I wanna play 3-5-2.

Best falling lower

2016s best football tumbles: Brazilian players Marcelo Cordeiro and Rossi pretending to have been headbutted by each other in October (Cordeiro: Thats just existence. Thats the sport were in) Toulouse coach Pascal Dupraz feeling upset in November by critique of his response to a paper plane brushing his head: Each one of these critics, theyre so brave and Louis van Gaals Miranda Hart pratfall in Feb, because he designed a serious point.

Best Strictly contenders

a) Everton manager Roberto Martnez, filmed dancing at a Jason Derulo concert in Feb b) Mike Allardyce, spotted in Marbella in May spinning on the spot to Rihannas We Found Love and c) Alan Pardew, marking Castles FA Cup final goal by throwing dad shapes on Wembleys touchline. The 3 of these were sacked within several weeks.

Politicians of the season

Were Icelands Ministry for Foreign Matters, @MFAIceland explaining how their 23-man Euro 2016 squad chose itself by whittling lower their people in this country of 332,529.

MFA Iceland (@MFAIceland)

@pin_upicierno pic.twitter.com/ot0Mq2lsjM

June 27, 2016

Best celebration

Michail Antonios horizontal-running grass-dance in Feb after scoring for West Pork. I saw The Simpsons Movie a few days ago. I believe I pulled them back.

Least foreseeable setback

British cyclist Adam Yates, out while watching primary peloton within the Tour de France in This summer, simply to be flattened whenever a fans belt punctured an inflatable Vittel advertising arch. He still continued to win the white-colored jersey, though.

Best clarification

Skiing star Lindsey Vonn, ambassador for Mind skis and bindings, reacted to some ski detaching mid-race in Feb by posting a video of herself destroying her Mind bindings having a hammer. After talks together with her agent she clarified: It was by no means, shape or form an expression around the performance from the Mind skis and bindings. In my opinion in Mind.

Most distracted

French fencer Enzo Lefort entering the Rio Games declaring: Ive given something to arrive here. Its important to not be distracted then being booed through the crowd after his phone fell out of his pocket mid-bout.

Best pose

Roy Hodgson, recognizing themself around the giant screen as England trailed to Iceland.

Danny Bloodstream (@dannyswfc)

Whenever you place your self on the giant screen and wish individuals to think there is a plan… pic.twitter.com/YLX3Mf6kB0

June 27, 2016

Best comeback

Andy Townsend, back on ITV for that summer time: Thats as blatant a problem as youll ever see. Could it have been certainly within the box? I do not know.

Worst luck

Australian rugby league star Jarryd Hayne, cutting short his presentation to 200 school pupils around the risks of the web when his screen began flashing up porn. Organisers stated the pictures didn’t originate from Jarryds device Hayne: It had been awkward. Wow.

Greatest last laugh

Louise Watson obtaining the second biggest fine in Wimbledon history, 9,040, for racket smashing 1,500 greater than Viktor Troickis acceptable for ranting from the worst ever umpire on the planet. She arrived on the scene ahead, though: winning 50,000 on her mixed doubles victory.

Cheapest blow

Spare a concept for Serb rowers Milos Vasic and Nenad Bedik, who showed up in Rio feeling good after 4 years of beginning training and sank after 1,250m.

Greatest attention seekers

Headlining 12 several weeks of viral animal cameos: a) an unflustered cat supporting play at Januarys Everton v Dagenham game, then losing its poise when keeper Joel Robles shooed it b) a squirrel doing the same at Marchs third T20 between Nigeria and Australia (@samuelfez: Watson in to the attack. Zampa at square leg. Maxwell gully. Squirrel deep point #SAvAUS) c) 20 mongooses storming a green during Novembers European Tours Nedbank Golf Challenge in Nigeria

and d) two pitch-invading dogs one sparking an earlier tea in Novembers second India v England Test, another chasing Gois left-back Juninho throughout a Brazilian Serie B game. Juninho stated he ran since you cant tell with dogs locals told RBS TV the stray, Zulu, is simply soppy If he sees a ball, he goes chasing. Not one of them outshone time top sporting animal, though: Brazils hefty and nonplussed golf course capybaras. Australia captain Ian Baker-Finch: That bloody factor is big. Have you ever seen it? Its half wombat, half dog. US player Matt Kuchar: Its just like a moosehead on the gigantic rat. US director Andy Levinson: It appears as though your dog. A just like a dog-pig.

Plus special mention for: Lorenzo the horse, dancing to Smooth by Santana in Rios individual dressage.

Most thorough

These warning notices stuck over the toilets in Rios Olympic Village, banning a variety of unlicensed toilet activities. US basketball star Elena Delle Donne: Guess I will not be toilet fishing today.

Most depressing fact

For fans of the certain age: in May Burys Callum Styles grew to become the very first footballer born in 2000 to look inside a League game in November fellow millennial Moise Kean switched out for Juventus within the Champions League.

Getting people together

Wales midfielder Joe Ledley: dancing for Europe last summer time. One of the headlines: La drole de danse du Gallois and Ledley enflamme le vestiaire.

Best message

Cricketer Liam Thomas wasnt frustrated in October when his prosthetic leg came off as he dived close to the boundary while fielding for that England Physical Disability team. He jumped following the ball rather and delivered a fierce return. Should there be kids available watching who thought they couldnt take part in the game before week, he stated later, I would like these to know they are able to do anything whatsoever installed their mind to.

Most satisfactory reply

Originated from 15-year-old Wimbledon women singles champion Anastasia Potapova answering press questions regarding her existence after winning the ultimate. I do not have siblings or siblings but I’ve got a duck, Vita. Shes small.

Best swagger

Haitian hurdler Jeffrey Julmis the undisputed star from the 110m hurdles in Rio. Within the selection before his race he gave your camera some textbook Usain Bolt-style attitude, then went mind over heels in the first hurdle.

Most uplifting

Showing the planet isnt totally damaged: Barcelonas under-14s side, lightly consoling their tearful Japanese rivals after beating them within the final of Augusts Junior Soccer World Challenge a mixture of hugs and pep talks.

Plus: most offended

Japanese pole vaulter Hiroki Ogita upset by reports in August that hed knocked the bar off with his penis. Irrrve never expected the foreign media to consider me lower such as this. Its false, and i’m devastated they mock and ridicule me a lot. He later tweeted: Watching again, this really is pretty funny, basically let them know myself. LOL.

Find out more: https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2017/jan/01/alternative-2016-sports-awards-quotes-gaffes-meltdowns