#mark my words I WILL draw Jersey Devil again

[rrosyan]

Sketchdump time again. Check captions as usual.

[notanotherreidgirl]

I’ve Got You

Summary: Reader and Spencer try something new

Pairing: Spencer Reid and Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, handjob, oral sex (female receiving), anal sex/pegging, degradation, leg riding, mommy kink

Word Count: 1460

A/N: This is a part of the Mommy Kink Collection. Also, this is my first time writing a scene like this in which I don’t really have that much personal experience to back it up (gosh, this is too much info) so please let me know if you think it’s ok. I did some research (rip my search history) cause I do want to make sure I’m writing something that’s representative. Anyway, don’t hesitate to let me know if you think it’s not a good portrayal. Thx!

Spencer had been working up the nerve to ask for a while but he could never seem to get the words unstuck from his throat until last week. You had surprised him by sneaking into his hotel room after wrapping up a case in New Jersey. You were stroking him with one hand while the other lightly massaged his balls, venturing down lower and lower. To your surprise, Spencer immediately ground his hips down when the pad of your finger brushed against him. "You like that baby?"

"Y-yes, Mommy. I like it a lot" he mewled, trying to hide his embarrassment by burying his face in your hair. 

"A lot? How much is a lot?” you applied some pressure. “You want me to fuck you here, baby?"

He mumbled out a shy yes but that wasn't going to cut it. You increased the pressure ever so slightly, nearly breaching him. "I said, do you want me to fuck your tight little ass?”

"Yes please, I want you to fuck me Mommy" he cried, coming all over your hand.

And so it began. You started with one finger, then two, and eventually a small starter plug. He took it all so well, you had to make a concerted effort not to take out the strap the moment one finger easily slid into him. But you stopped yourself, drawing out the process for a week. You wanted to take care of your boy and a darker part of you wanted to tease him as well.  

Now you could feel Spencer hovering. He was on the couch unsuccessfully watching a documentary about the perils of the fishing industry and getting up every other minute to look over your shoulder or shuffle books around on the coffee table or offer to bring you a snack. It would be cute except that you had given him very explicit instructions to be patient while you finished up some paperwork from the last case. 

You had set him up for failure though, having teased him all day and telling him you had something special in mind for him tonight. The piece de resistance was the plug you put in almost as soon as you got home. His eyes went wide and he flushed a deep scarlet when he saw you take it out from the top drawer of your dresser along with a bottle of lube. It was new, bigger than what he was used to. When you pulled his boxers back up after putting it in he let out a confused whine that turned into a dissatisfied groan when you turned to your desk and pulled out your case files. 

“Don’t be a brat. Can’t you be patient while I finish up my paperwork?” you asked. “Don’t you want to be a good boy for Mommy?”

And he did. He wanted to be good for you so badly but it was so hard and he had wanted this for so long. The final straw was when he once again offered to help, saying he could take a few files. 

“You can’t wait 5 minutes for me to finish my work? Are you really that desperate to get fucked?” you scolded. He towered over your seated form but it was clear who was in charge. “On your knees.”

Without a second thought, he dropped to the floor. So eager. You slotted a leg between his parted knees and he sucked in a sharp breath when you made contact with his sex. You feigned disapproval as he rocked against you, letting out a bored sigh at his whimpers. “Look at you humping my leg like a little puppy. You’re so fucking needy.” 

In truth, you had finished your paperwork back at the office but you wanted him as turned on as possible for tonight. Not that that was hard to do. The combination of the plug and his growing anticipation had electric shocks jolting through his body with each thrust. “I need to come. Please Mommy”

“You need to or you want to? I thought you were my good boy” you brushed the hair from his face. “To think I was going to fuck that ass of yours tonight”

“I am - I am your good boy. Please, let me show you” he gasped. Smiling, you removed your leg, drawing a frustrated whine from Spencer at the loss of contact. You shimmied out of your sleep shorts and parted your legs. “Go on then baby. Here’s your chance to show me how good you can be.”

This time you set him up for success. Spencer Reid could do things with his tongue that’d make the devil blush, add in his fingers and you didn’t care if there was a heaven or a hell so long as you had him buried between your legs. He took his time, littering your inner thighs with open mouth kisses and sucking pretty purple marks into your soft flesh - wanting to please you, wanting to show you how much he adored you. His tongue glided through your folds and latched around your clit, sucking it into his mouth. He brought himself even closer, lifting your left leg over his shoulder before sliding in two fingers and curling them upwards. He had you seeing stars and clamping your thighs around him as you came. He made no attempt to stop, lapping at your essence until you brought your hands around his face and pulled him away. “You did such a perfect job, darling. Why don’t you go to the bedroom and get undressed, I’ll be right there.”

Before you joined him, you packed away your files and poured a glass of water for him to have afterwards. You were nervous, wanting this to be perfect for your boy.  You walked into the bedroom to see him lying faceup on the bed, cock flushed and leaky. You put on the harness and busied yourself with applying more than enough lube. When you were satisfied you stole a pillow from the top of the bed and slid it under his hips and snaked a hand between his legs to grip the plug. You pushed it in and out as you spoke. “You’re just a needy little cockslut aren’t you?” you eased the plug out and he whined, feeling empty. 

“Please, mommy,” he begged. “I want you so bad.”

You settled between his legs and stroked his cock, coating him with his own precum and the leftover lube on your hand. He opened his legs, eager to have you fill him up. Before you made another move, you ran a hand up his thigh in soothing circles. “I’ve got you, baby,”  you murmured. “Let me hear your colors”

“G-green for good, yellow to slow down, and red to stop” he could barely get the words out, his nervous heart hammering against his chest. 

“That’s right, darling. I’m right here for you no matter what.” You lined yourself up and pushed, biting back a groan at how easily you slid in. You gave him the first few inches slowly and stopped to gauge his comfort. 

“I’m green, I’m green, I’m green” he chanted, his head thrown back against the bed and hands fisting the sheets. You crept forward, watching your cock disappear into him. Now that you were fully seated inside him you moved a hand up and down his cock, drawing out a symphony of whines from your boy. Not wanting to overwhelm him, you rocked in and out slowly until he was practically begging for more. “Please, please, please, I can take it. You feel so good, Mommy.”

“You’re taking me so well, baby. I’m so proud of you. You’re perfect, absolutely perfect. Let me see you come, darling.” You picked up your pace, relishing in the moans he let out every time you bottomed out and swiped your thumb over the head of his cock. The sensation of being filled to the brim while you stroked his cock and murmured sweet nothings had him coming undone with a strangled shout. Never in his whole life had Spencer felt so full of pleasure, of warmth, of love. 

Carefully, you eased out of him and quickly rid yourself of the harness. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” you murmured, reaching for the box of wipes by the bed and cleaning him up. He nodded, too blissed out to form a coherent thought let alone articulate exactly how much more than okay he was. “You feel ok to go get cleaned up in the bath?”

Spencer whined and pulled you in close, unwilling to separate for even one moment. “You’ll stay with me?” he asked quietly.

“Of course. I’m right here, sweet boy. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

----

Taglist: @thatsonezesty13 @newyorkaqua @rosienie 

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[scaredofthebasement-blog]

When Love Walks In - Chpt 1

Chapter One - The Accident

(Hi there.  This is my first fanfiction and writing of any kind really.  I’ve been inspired by those writers who have gone before me.  Thank you for your incredible efforts, talent and bravery.   This will be a multi-chapter love story and work of pure fiction using Auston Matthews as the inspiration for the main character of the same name and Dr Quinn Tolpa as a character I created myself. I’ve purposely refrained from describing the appearance of the female lead character, Dr Quinn, as I want you to imagine her as you see her in your mind. Also, please keep in mind that I am in no way knowledgable about the medical profession and have based any medical references on my own minor research.  So please forgive any inaccuracies. Potential triggers:  Life-threatening hockey accident involving the throat.  Coma.  Surgery.  Ventilator.  Some swear words.  I will mark when Sex/Smut Scenes are coming up.  I hope you enjoy the ride.  It’s going to be a good one and worth getting past the setup chapters.)  3389 words

Chapter One - The Accident 

It is late in the third period of a tied Game 7 of the 2024/25 Stanley Cup finals between the Toronto Maple Leafs, and the New Jersey Devils when 27-year-old Auston Matthews of the Leafs, takes a puck, from the Devils’ defence, squarely to his throat.

The Toronto home crowd falls eerily silent and holds a collective, horrified breath.  You can tell that the Leaf players on the ice are not aware that the puck hit Auston directly in the throat.  As the whistle blows, the Leafs’ trainers and medical staff rush to help Auston, who is thrashing in pain on the ice.  Everyone now has a chance to look up at the replay on the JumboTron.  The mouths of Auston’s teammates and coaches drop in unison along with the crowd, followed by audible gasps of, “My God!”

As soon as the trainers can get to Auston, he manages to stand up but then immediately collapses into unconsciousness.  The capacity crowd’s screams echo throughout the arena at the drama of it all.  As everyone watches, four of Auston’s teammates rush to pick up their friend and get him to the Leafs’ medical room as quickly as possible.  

What is sure at this point, is that Auston’s airway has been cut off from the impact of the shot to his Larynx.  He is unconscious and not breathing as he lays on the treatment table in the dressing room.  An emergency Tracheotomy is performed on-site by the team’s medical doctor, to get Auston breathing again.  

Auston is still unconscious, but breathing with the help of the Thrach, oxygen supply and EMS, as he is rushed by ambulance to Mount Sinai Hospital for life-saving surgery.

Auston’s parents, Brian and Ema and his two sisters, Alexandria (older) and Breyana (younger), manage to get down to the Leafs’ dressing room within minutes of the accident and are ushered straightaway to a police car which escorts them to join up with Auston at the hospital.  Upon their arrival, Auston’s parents are signing releases and authorizations on behalf of their son, for the hospital medical staff. 

A still unconscious Auston arrives at the Emergency Department of Mount Sinai Hospital, with Leafs’ medical staff in tow, to a team of surgeons and medical staff awaiting his arrival.  They immediately usher Auston, via stretcher, into an exam room where what remains of his hockey equipment is cut off.  They first ensure that Auston’s airway is maintained.  The staff take Auston’s vitals along with scans and a full body assessment.  Since it is immediately clear that Auston is suffering from a crushed Larynx and likely vocal cord damage, the doctors on duty, without hesitation, summon Dr Quinn Tolpa.  

Dr Quinn, as she prefers to be called, lives in a high rise condo located within 10 minutes of the hospital.  It’s around 10 pm, and she has just returned home from a late Pilate’s class and subsequent shower.  As she thinks to go turn on the TV to see if the City is going to erupt any time soon by the Leafs winning the Stanley Cup for the first time in over 50 years, her pager goes off.   The message reads, Paging Dr Quinn Tolpa, Medical Emergency, Laryngeal Trauma, etc., Theatre 3, M.S.H, time 10:03.  She replies, texting her ETA and hurries to change her clothes, feeling relieved that she already showered at the gym.  She rushes to her car in the parking garage and begins to wonder about road conditions. If the Leafs have already won the Cup, then she will be in trouble as the traffic will be insane.  As she drives out of the garage, she sees it is quiet on the streets, almost eerily quiet.  

In little time, Dr Quinn arrives on-site and starts getting into her scrubs in the room attached to Theatre 3.  The other doctors and medical staff greet her and thank her for coming so quickly.

“We have ourselves a VIP of sorts in there, Dr Quinn, so no pressure”, an attending doctor jokes nervously to ease the tension.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, what?” Quinn replies, confused as she starts to prep.

Realizing there is no time to get into who the patient is, the attending physician replies, “Not important, Dr Quinn.  NHL hockey player is all.”  He begins briefing her on what transpired and his assessment.

Dr Quinn has just finished scrubbing up when the doctor completes his briefing. She has a few questions for the doctor and medical staff about Auston’s vitals and how he is responding to treatments already given, which they answer to her satisfaction.

She takes a look at Auston’s scan results as well as the results from his standard tests and then moves over to where he lays on the operating table. She quickly runs her own physical evaluation.  All indications are that Auston’s Larynx has been severely crushed and will need intricate repair before the bleeding stops.  She will address his airway, breathing and collapsed lung to get him stabilized.   

The attending doctor notes, “We understand he was about 4 feet from the player who fired the puck.”

Dr Quinn is shocked by the image that races across her mind. “Four feet away! Dear Lord!”  She draws in a deep breath and exhales.  

All the medical support staff have eyes on Dr Quinn as they assume their positions.  Taking command of the room, she rallies, “Okay, everyone, let’s save this young man’s life.”

After 2 hours of her expert, delicate and intricate surgery, Auston is in stable condition.  It is time for her to speak with his family.  But before Dr Quinn can find them, the other doctor pulls her aside to explain who, precisely, this patient is that she just finished operating on.

“Auston Matthews?” She repeats as a question.  She has heard the name before but had never paid much attention as she had been focused intensely on her career over the last number of years.  But, having been born and raised in the City of Toronto, she, of course, knows who the Leafs are and how important they are to the City.  She also knows that the Leafs were playing in the final game of the Stanley Cup playoffs because, unless you live under a rock, no one in the City could be unaware of that fact.  

Dr Quinn is a bit embarrassed to be a Torontonian at this moment; not knowing much about the City’s esteemed hockey superstar who she has just helped. She has to remind herself that during the past nine years of her life, she did not have the luxury of dividing her time and energy to much outside of her education and career.  Becoming a Medical Doctor, surgeon and then rising through the ranks at breakneck speed to become Canada’s youngest specialist in the field of Otolaryngology-Head and Neck Surgery as well as an internationally recognised leader in the field of vocal cord reconstruction had been her focus and a huge one at that.

Dr Quinn walks towards the ‘family quiet room’ where she’s told Auston’s family are waiting.  She taps on the door, and it is opened by a tall, broad-shouldered man who Dr Quinn assumes to be Auston’s father.  There are three women in the room whom she believes to be Auston’s mother and sisters, as well as a few men wearing Leafs’ jackets whom she guesses are from the Leafs’ organization. There is no escaping that they are all torn apart by Auston’s accident. Their wet, swollen eyes and red faces reflect their intense pain and fear.  Dr Quinn’s heart sinks to see them all in such distress.  She wants desperately to reassure them.

“Hello, my name is Dr Quinn Tolpa, please call me Dr Quinn.  I just performed surgery on Auston”, she announces as she reaches her hand out to shake hands with and learn the names of the loved ones of her newest patient.

“He’s in stable condition right now, and staff are currently transferring him to the Intensive Care Unit on the 4th floor.  The 2-hour surgery included completing a Tracheostomy and hooking him up to a Ventilator.  A cuffed tube was inserted and inflated to make sure that the only air in his throat is coming from the Ventilator, which will allow Auston’s throat and Larynx to heal without interference.  I repaired Auston’s Larynx.  I also drained blood from his lungs as it had caused one of his lungs to collapse.”

There is a burst of relief, followed by a lot of ‘thanks to God’.  They hug each other and sob in relief.  

Dr Quinn continues, “I understand how scary this all must be for you.  Please know that Auston is in the best possible place given his type of injury and that we will do everything within our power to help Auston make as full a recovery as possible.  I can tell you that the surgery was successful in repairing his damaged Larynx and in doing so, we removed the obstruction from his airway and stopped the bleeding.  While Auston is in a stable state right now, that is not of his own doing.  We have him on a Ventilator and have placed him in a medically induced Coma, which is giving him a chance to heal his Larynx and vocal cords as well as to stave off any brain damage.  We can’t rule out brain damage or a concussion since he stopped receiving oxygen for a time at the arena and he hit his head on the ice after he passed out.  He is going to stay in the induced Coma for at least five days, and at such time we will be able to assess his progress and alleviate any further issues he may present.”

“I know I’m overloading you with information right now but want you to know where things stand at the moment and what to expect in the next little while where Auston’s concerned. Since I will be Auston’s attending medical specialist, please know that you can consult with me on his condition at any time.  I am perfectly happy to repeat any of this information back to you, so don’t hesitate to ask me any questions you may have.   Here is my card with my contact information.  Day or night, please know that I am here for you all.”  Dr Quinn reassures them as she hands each of them her card.

Dr Quinn continues, “Okay, so specifically, we diagnosed Auston with Laryngeal Trauma, which means a crushed Larynx, which I understand was caused by a puck hitting his throat at high speed and close range.  The priority was to secure his airway, which was done by the Leafs’ medical staff at the arena by performing a crude Tracheotomy.  By accounts, it appears that this procedure was done within the time limits to avoid brain damage, but we will not know for certain until Auston regains consciousness.  When Auston arrived here, we ran scans, X-rays, tests and assessments to determine the extent of the damage to his Larynx.  His Larynx was so badly crushed it was by far the most challenging surgical repair of fractured and internal lacerations I have ever had to make, but I’m pleased with how well it went.”

“Also, in 5 days, I expect to perform what is called a Microlaryngoscopy and Bronchoscopy, in order to re-assess the healing process and attend to any issues that may present themselves by that time.  If all goes well then, Auston should be cleared to be woken from his Coma.  At that time, we will have him on complete voice rest until he can breathe on his own and his airway heals.  Also, we should be able to evaluate any brain damage, concussion symptoms, how well or not his vocal cords are mending and whether he has any diminished breathing abilities or difficulties swallowing”, she explains.

Now she has to tell them what they need to know but will scare the hell out of them.    “Since vocal cords are next to the Larynx and Auston’s are severely crushed, there is a chance that they will not be able to join together as they heal, which will cause Auston to have trouble speaking. But, I want you to know that I have been heading a team that has been pioneering research in the area of vocal cord rejuvenation and there is a new technique that we have developed that is providing a chance where there was none previously.  If it comes down to that, I want you to know there is some hope. Results of applying this new technique have proven to be highly successful in trials.  It is ground-breaking, and I want you to know about it as it has been my primary objective to find a way to bring hope to patients who previously had none in such cases.  Oh, and last thing, Auston’s collapsed lung should recover in a couple of days and is common when there is bleeding from trauma to the Larynx. We will, of course, monitor Auston for everything”, Dr Quinn draws in a deep breath and waits a moment for a response.

“Can we see him now?” They plead in unison.

Relieved that they seem to have accepted what she just told them, she answers, “Yes, I’ll take you up in a moment.  You can stay in the room with Auston, day and night.  You can sleep in the reclining chairs in the room.  Unfortunately, there are only two reclining chairs that will fit in the space, but they are more comfy and supportive than you might expect.   I believe it is of great importance that family be able to stay with their loved ones overnight and get as good a sleep as possible.  Families provide love and support, which is essential in speeding up the healing process. Being close to the patient also gives families some measure of control in an often uncontrollable situation.  We have pillows and blankets, so please ask the nurse.”

“Doctor?  When my son is in Coma, can he hear me?”  Auston’s mother asks hopefully in her broken English.

“Mrs Matthews, I am sorry that he will not be able to understand what you say since a medically induced coma is a deep state of unconsciousness, leaving the sounds with no consciousness to reach.  However, please do not let that deter you from talking, singing or reading to Auston. There have been claims that other senses are at work that pick up on vibrations, energy etc. and may subconsciously bring peace and comfort to your boy.  It can also be comforting to you as well”, Dr Quinn explains with compassion that the family can feel.

“If you would like to follow me, I can take you upstairs to Intensive Care now.” Dr Quinn leads the group to the elevator and up to the 4th floor. Everyone is silent as they all try to process the information they have just received.

“Please stay in the waiting room for one moment while I confirm that things are ready”, She asks the group as she heads into the Intensive Care Unit.  

Auston’s family is too worked up to sit down, so they stand there while the team staff members take a seat as they plan to give the family privacy to visit Auston and make their update calls to Leafs’ management.

“Hi, Angels?  How’s it going with our patient, Mr Matthews?” Dr Quinn asks the two attending nurses, Nicole and Kelly.

“He’s all set up Dr Quinn,” Nicole informs.

“Doctor, are you aware that this is Auston Matthews?  You know, the superstar hockey player that plays for the Leafs?” Kelly asks.

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.  Auston was playing in the Stanley Cup final game and got a puck to the throat”, Dr Quinn shivers as she reacts to her own words.   “Poor guy, eh?  Hey, do you know if the Leafs ended up winning?” She asks.

“No, we haven’t heard anything.  It’s been pretty busy in here tonight”, both nurses chime in.

Dr Quinn adds, “Well, I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.  I don’t know what to hope for because if the team won, then Auston missed out and if the team lost, then he’ll be devastated and so will the City. What a no-win situation.  In any event, I’m going to get Auston’s family now.  They are lovely people.  Afterwards, I will get the attending doctor up to speed and fill out some paperwork. Any questions before I go?”

“No, we read the file and know what to do.  Should be fine Dr Quinn”, the nurses confirm with confidence.

“Okay, good.  I’ll go get the family”, Dr Quinn announces.

“Thanks, Doctor”, the nurses replied.

“Thank you, Angels!” Quinn adds, as she always does, to show her appreciation for all they do. “Ha, so I guess you’re Auston’s Angels now ladies”, she jokes to lighten the mood, and they chuckle.

Dr Quinn returns to Auston’s waiting family and announces that the room and Auston are ready for them.

“I just want to give you a heads up that Auston is hooked up to some large machines to help him breathe, monitor his vitals, give him his fluids and administer his medications.  Please don’t be alarmed as this is all normal procedure in such cases”, Dr Quinn informs them.

“Thank you, Dr Quinn, from the bottom of our hearts for everything you have done and will do for our boy”, Auston’s father says as his voice drips with emotion.  The rest of the family mumble the same, sniffling as they each take turns hugging Quinn tight, trying to convey their appreciation.

“Please call us by our first names, Dr Quinn.  We are family now”, Ema insists.

“Sure.  I’m happy to be able to help.  Please follow me”, Dr Quinn instructs as she leads them towards Auston’s room.  

The family pass in front of Dr Quinn to get to Auston’s bed.  Quiet gasps and sobs from the group mingle with the pulse and hiss of the breathing machine keeping Auston alive.  Ema hugs and kisses her son, crying she tells him in Spanish that she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he doesn’t pull through.  Brian, standing behind Ema with his hand on her back has tears pouring down his devastated, hand covered face.  Alex and Bre approach Auston from the other side of the bed, youngest wrapped in the arm of the oldest.  Standing next to their brother, they take hold of his hand and wipe tears from their red cheeks.  As they gasp for air, they tell Auston they love him, know he will triumph over this like he does everything and that he is the best brother ever.

Dr Quinn tries to remain stoic.  After making sure everyone is okay and settled, she excuses herself from the room and heads over to the Intensive Care station to speak to the attending doctor, finish up some paperwork and make some calls.  Then she hears it.

“They lost!” one of the nurses announces loudly.  

Dr Quinn rushes over to the nurse standing about 5 feet from her, to explain the situation and ask her to please keep the news to herself.  

Although the news crushes Dr Quinn, she also has a strong feeling wash over her that it will all be okay in the end.  She has no idea why she feels this way, but it calms her entire being.  

Dr Quinn informs Auston’s family that she is going home to get some sleep as she has worked 13 hours in the last 24 hour period.  She introduces them to the attending Doctor, Dr Higgins and reassures them that she is merely a phone call away if they need to speak to her before her 9 am return.

Dr Quinn returns to her condo.  She knows this upcoming week will be a trying one for her, Auston’s family and the City of Toronto.  Tired, Dr Quinn rests in the knowledge that her hard work and studies might be able to turn this tragic situation into a positive outcome.  She resolves that she is determined to do that for Auston, his family and the City of Toronto.  She will be the Superstar that everyone needs right now.  This is her chance to do what she has been training for her whole life. This is her Cup moment, so to speak.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Wrack and Ruin

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

The hunting party gathers in morning mist. It is the original three plus Mr. Biddle who professes a casual interest in the entire affair.

'Mr. Bligh?' Arthur asks.

'Unwell,' Joseph says. 'He is staying in for the day. I asked Mr. Cadwalader but he is in Boston at the moment. Chasing after some recently arrived sculptures from Italy.'

No one appears much upset the news of an absent Mr. Bligh. Arthur pets one of Joseph's hounds with affection and declares that the day will probably be a beautiful one despite the fog. It will burn off by midday and it will be lovely. A fine time for a spot of tracking.

Much like their first attempt to find the beast the initial several hours are spent amiably enough but without much sight or sound of the creature. Considering their previous luck they head towards the bog with Joseph reasoning out that it might the creature's watering hole.

Joseph and Napoleon lead the party with Arthur and Nicholas bringing up the rear. Occasional conversation flitters through. How is the relationship between Caroline and the king going? Terrible as usual.

'Don't eat dinner with your lover when you also want to be queen,' is Napoleon's helpful advice.

Nicholas expresses sympathy for both parties. He quotes Homer, citing their conversation from the night before, 'Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man.'

'It is not weakness,' Arthur mutters. 'But mere folly. On both their parts.'

'Indeed, your grace, and so I feel for them.'

Napoleon, turns so he walking backwards and facing Arthur and Nicholas, 'you were of a similar mind for a time, Wellesley. I remember Mrs. Topsom quizzing you about the Princess Caroline when I first arrived in Woodford.' He almost stumbles, turns back around so as to not fall.

Joseph, over his shoulder, 'never express an opinion in front of my brother, gentlemen. He'll never let you forget it.'

'So I have come to learn,' Arthur replies dryly. 'My views have shifted with new information. As most people's are wont to do. Including yours, sir, though you profess otherwise.' Sotto voce to Nicholas, 'General Bonaparte takes great pleasure in professing opinions that are not his own.'

Nicholas considers this information then replies that he would think a great weakness in a friendly debate as it forces you to argue from a disadvantage. Passion, for better or worse, oftentimes over rules facts in conversations and so to believe in your side gives you a decided advantage.

The conversation dies down with the increasing late-morning temperature and soon the group returns to its quiet contemplation. The pine barrens are their usual uncanny quietude safe for boots on brush, the occasional bird, distant insects, movement of fabric of hunting coats.

Arriving at the bog from the previous day the men scan for tracks but find none. It is an untouched land. No bugs skating on the surface of water, no frogs, no fish. The sheer sense of absence becomes overwhelming.

'Let us head this way,' Joseph says. 'A different direction from yesterday but more secluded and perhaps more favourable for our creature.'

With the Pine Barrens it becomes disconcerting at high noon with all the trees looking much the same and little other vegetation to create a difference of scenery. Repetition is maddening, disorienting. Have they been going in circles? It is difficult to say.

For a moment Arthur pauses, leans against his musket, and looks behind them. There are signs of their trail, marks to guide them back should they turn around. Biddle stops with him, 'your grace? All is well?'

And as he turns to say, 'oh yes, just looking' he finds they are alone. Napoleon and Joseph are no longer ahead of them.

'Where are they?' Arthur says.

'They were just there a moment ago they cannot be far.'

They speed up their walking hoping to catch up to the others but there is no sign of them. No sign that they had been there at all.

//

Joseph leans against a tree and readjusts the musket on his shoulder. The forest is remarkably warm for the spring and his boots damp from mud. He gives a humourless smile to Napoleon.

'Not quite what any of us had in mind,' he says.

'No. We are sure we retraced our path exactly?'

'Yes, I found all my markings.'

Napoleon sighs, rubs the back of his neck. There is too much humidity for comfort. Too much for this time of year, as well. A mosquito lands on his cheek and he swats it away.

'Well best to head all the way back out. I'm sure they're doing the same,' Napoleon says when Joseph seems ill inclined to make a suggestion. 'Wellesley isn't daft, they'll retrace their steps as well. We'll run into them.'

They march on. Joseph finds it akin to their youthful days in Corsica. Him, speaking warmly of the countryside, the art of the land, the beauty of the sky. Napoleon quoting Cicero and speaking of the past with interest, the present with disinterest. It is like he trades places, Ceasar he can be passionate about, Talleyrand only dispassion.

Present-tense emotions are too much and so they are mapped on to the past-tense. Joseph thinks, Hear Nabulio speak of the snakes in Roman courts and you are hearing him speak of snakes in the French court.

'If you could go back and change one thing, what would it be?' Joseph asks.

'Only one? I'd buy more presents for Josephine.'

'I am being serious.'

Napoleon tweaks his ear. Joseph bats his hand away. He wants a true and real answer but Napoleon is playing coy.

'This is just like you, you know,' Joseph says with resignation. 'Avoiding all the difficult conversations.'

'I am not avoiding a difficult conversation, I am avoiding a ridiculous question. Do not ask me what I would do differently! It serves no useful purpose but to make us maudlin.'

Joseph purses his lips and wishes to disagree but cannot pin point the exact nature of his disagreement only he knows his brother is wrong, or not quite right, or perhaps they're having two different conversations.  

'Do you have regrets?'

'Of course,' snapped. 'But again, what purpose is served by listing them? Do I wish I had done some things differently? Made different choices? Naturally. I do not want to be here no more than you want to be here-'

'I beg you not to place your desires onto mine. We are not the same person.'

'No, we are not. You are infinitely easy to please and unambitious.'

'There is no shame in either of those.'

'Did I say there was?'

'By the tone of your voice you certainly did.'

Napoleon scoffs, 'ever the victim, Joseph.'

'That is untrue. You on the other hand-'

'Me?'

Joseph stops and gives his brother a grave look. 'Nothing is ever your fault, it is always the fault of others. No blame lies on those shoulders that forced their way into Atlas' position whether it was desired or not. I at least have the temerity to accept when I have made a mistake.'

Napoleon's expression is blank, at first, then fiery. His eyes are Atlantic storm grey and he is sneering, a cold look. Atlantic cold.

'I have no wish to continue this conversation,' Napoleon hisses. 'You are not yourself.'

'Fine,' Joseph snaps. 'We can go back to never talking about anything as if that has ever done good for our family.'

Joseph stalks off in one direction, Napoleon the other. Unable to resist Napoleon spins on his heel and says, 'Temerity, brother-mine, is not a word that can be used to describe your actions. Indolence on the other hand.'

Joseph turns back to Napoleon and snaps, 'there is audacity in kindness. Something you are incapable of.' Joseph watches as his brother's face changes from one of anger to a very careful neutral. Napoleon licks his lips. Joseph is uncertain about this change. What could it mean? Napoleon's eyes aren't on him, he notices, but slightly above him.

There is a soft hiss.

Joseph feels his stomach clench, the air leave his lungs in horror. His hand tightens on his musket but he cannot turn around to face the creature. In these fleeting moments of uncertainly Napoleon lunges forward, grabs Joseph and pushes him behind him as he draws his sword.

'Fuck off,' he shouts.  

The beast does not move. Napoleon can see the thin leather of the wings, which remind him of bats but much larger, the short horse-hair covering its body. The red eyes edged in with yellow, the birdlike legs, the hooved feet, clawed hands. It hisses again and oh, the teeth make him queasy.

'Get away,' he says, waving his sword. 'No one wants you here. Go on.'

Joseph fumbles with his musket then holds it up. The creature looks at them both. Joseph feels its eyes boring into him. There is sadness behind the terror. There is bittersweet loneliness behind the horror.

Napoleon whispers, 'go on, shoot it.'

Joseph pulls the lock back till it clicks. The Jersey Devil shifts its steady, weighted gaze from Joseph to Napoleon who continues to point his sword at it. Joseph cannot fathom what his brother is reading in the creature's face. What sense of identity he is gleaning from this monster that was shunned by its family. Cast aside. Abandoned to live out its lonely existence in the most barren of places.

Napoleon takes a few steps back and lowers the sword. He and Joseph stand within inches of each other, the Jersey Devil is several feet from them. It lets out a slithering hiss. It travels down their spines, nests in a pit of fear at the base of their stomachs.

How can something so fearsome be so pitiable?

It takes flight. An incomprehensible action that makes little sense in regards to physics of the natural world but this is no longer merely the natural world.

//

Arthur is standing up to his ankles in mud swatting at flies. The bog has come upon them suddenly and Biddle has been regaling him with his latest adventures into the realms of natural philosophy and travel literature.

'It began after I read Cook's journals,' Nicholas says cheerfully. He waves at the mosquitoes around him. 'Then I wrote the report up for the westward expedition of Mr. Lewis and Mr. Clark and that was absolutely phenomenal. Fascinating. I would love to see half of what they saw.'

Arthur thinks it ironic to state something like that as they trudge to the edge of the bog and are desperately trying to keep muskets out of the water as they flight mosquitoes and black flies. He will willingly put up with such nuisances when on campaign. Being out in nature is good for the constitution and builds character. But to wish to live the life of a fetid fur trapper, which is surely the state the Misters Lewis and Clark lived in for much of their time, is inconceivable. Very much the view of an armchair adventurer. An armchair academic. He refrains from making commentary.  

'Though,' Nicholas sighs with relief once they find foot holds that are not four inches deep in mud and extract their feet onto firm ground. 'I will confess I could go for a steak pie and an ale right about now.'

'I share your enthusiasm for pie and ale,' Arthur agrees. 'If only we could find our companions.'

'We did follow the tracks Joseph left for us, didn't we?'

'Yes, carefully too.'

'They would have done the same, surely?'

'I would think so. Bonaparte, Napoleon, isn't daft. He'd have them turning around and coming back for us. We all would have run into each other though I swear this bog moved since the last time we were here.'

Biddle laughs at this suggestion. Arthur stares. Biddle pauses. 'Oh, you're serious.'

'Things in the world are changing and not for the better, in my book.'

'Change can be good.'

'In small increments over a very long period of time. In general, I disagree with change for the sake of change. If things are not broken we ought not try and fix them.'

'Well, each man delights in the position that suits best his current life. But let us continue to try and find our friends.'

Arthur frowns and wonders if he has been insulted. Trust an American to make such an argument. Also, trust an American to also spend the last three hours discussing the merits of classic writers on the foundation of new governance. Americans and Frenchmen. Bonaparte, Arthur sighs in defeat, is similar. But it is different coming from him. There is always this sense of irony whereas this Mr. Biddle is earnest.

'How do you find the former emperor?' Nicholas asks as they continue along the marked path. 'I saw his coronation. It was spectacular.'

'I'm sure it was a spectacle. He is a bit of a showman the way all politicians are.' Arthur falters for a moment realizing that he, himself, is now a politician and not just a military man. But he considers his line as Master of the Ordnance (and detested Minister of Occult Affairs) different. It is still primarily military. He is able to speak bluntly and be forgiven. 'He is all right.'

'I was surprised to see you both getting along. I wouldn't have fathomed it.'

'Circumstances outside my control made it thus. We were forced to work together on a dealing of a similarly occult nature as this, including a shifting forest, and came to better understand each other.'

'I hear he is a good friend. How does it go, the difficulty is not so great to die for a friend as to find a friend worth dying for.'

'I wouldn't go that far regarding Bonaparte,' Arthur replies with some feeling. He dislikes when people dig into their friendship, relationship, whatever word there is there for it. This forced-by-circumstances-but-not-unpleasant thing.

It is with these thoughts at the top of his mind that they veritably run into the Bonaparte brothers. Both are all hugs and evidently beyond pleased to have found their missing compatriots.

'You are all right?' Napoleon asks squeezing Arthur's shoulder. 'You didn't run into anything?' A glance down. 'Other than the bog, that is.'

'Oh yes, Mr. Biddle and I had a fine time with this run around. I had half of the Odyssey quoted at me. And some Ovid to mix it up.'

'I am glad you are friends.'

'And you?'

Napoleon glances at Joseph who shrugs. He says, 'we had a bit of an adventure.'

Arthur says that he is not surprised. Things usually go a little pear-shaped when Napoleon is involved. Napoleon, taking up Arthur's arm, says that Joseph can tell it all. It is more his story, after all. Joseph's expression is first cautious then warm and the story unwinds as they make their way from the forest.

Standing between field and pine trees, that marginal unclaimed space between two worlds, Arthur asks, 'so why didn't you shoot it? That was the entire point.'

Joseph thinks for a moment. There is a gentle breeze, an evening sun, clouds like a painting. 'I felt bad for it,' he finally says. 'I felt like it has already lost many things and who are we to take away its life? I normally wouldn't, but there was something so distinctly knowable in its eyes. When you looked at it, it was as if a part of yourself was staring back. A part that has been thrown away, pushed back and out of your mind and I did not wish to destroy it completely.'  

Napoleon adds, quietly, 'Anyway, a wise man once said that there is some audacity in kindness.'

Part VI to come. 

[zeroviraluniverse-blog]

Which team will go further in the postseason, the Washington Capitals or Winnipeg Jets?

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Which team will go further in the postseason, the Washington Capitals or Winnipeg Jets?

Two playoff-bound teams clash on Monday night, when the Winnipeg Jets face off against the Washington Capitals. Which team will go further in the postseason?

Greg Wyshynski, senior writer: The Capitals and Jets are in two very different places in their life spans as championship contenders. Look no further than their respective goal-scoring virtuosos: Alex Ovechkin, 32, has 97 Stanley Cup playoff games to his credit. Patrik Laine, 19, has never played in the NHL postseason. Sure, they’ve both appeared in the same number of championship games, which is none. But the Jets are clearly a team building toward a title with a young core, while the Capitals are using an industrial-strength tire jack to keep their Stanley Cup window open.

Taylor Hall and Brad Marchand are among the guys who have significantly stepped up their game this season, from establishing themselves as impact players to morphing from stars into supernovas. Plus, the NHL has a China problem — and more Jersey Fouls.

The message we want to send this week: No matter its record, every team — from No. 1 Nashville to No. 31 Ottawa — is good at something. So in these rankings, we look at what each team (or a specific player) does best statistically.

Our writers tackle some pressing questions for the stretch run. Could the Kings or Stars make a Predators-esque wild-card run to the Cup final? Will the Penguins or Flyers finish higher in the standings? And where will Carter Hutton play next season?

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As I’ve said for the past two seasons: The Capitals need someone to clear the Pittsburgh Penguins off the road to a championship. Washington is 0-and-3 against Sidney Crosby in the postseason, with Pittsburgh winning the Stanley Cup each time it has thwarted the Caps. I don’t believe that the Capitals can beat Pittsburgh, and whether it’s against the Philadelphia Flyers, New Jersey Devils or Columbus Blue Jackets in round one, I think the Penguins will advance. Which means the Capitals’ season will probably end in the semifinals — again.

The Jets, meanwhile, will have home ice against their first-round foe (the Minnesota Wild or Dallas Stars) before facing the Nashville Predators — unless the Predators get upended by a wild card. (With Jonathan Quick and the Los Angeles Kings looming on the bubble, that’s not impossible.) If the Preds make it through … buckle up. The teams have combined for 29 goals in three games thus far.

I give the slim advantage here to Winnipeg if only because Nashville doesn’t have some kind of demonic hex on the Jets as the Penguins apparently have on the Capitals. But also because this counterargument involves the Capitals and playoff success — which are, at last check, antonyms.

Emily Kaplan, national NHL reporter: Out of these two teams, no question the Jets entertained me more this season. They were a more complete team — steady through the lineup, dynamic, bolstered by star turns from Laine and Mark Scheifele, and benefiting from surprise performances from rookie Kyle Connor and goaltender Connor Hellebuyck.

Missed an episode of the ESPN On Ice podcast with Greg Wyshynski and Emily Kaplan? Find all the episodes from the show’s catalogue here. Listen »

But when I look at the Jets, there’s one word I always go back to: young. Winnipeg is on the cusp of being great, but the roster doesn’t boast a ton of experience. While the Jets are buoyed by some veterans like defenseman Dustin Byfuglien, winger Blake Wheeler and now center Paul Stastny, this team has not won a single playoff game since relocating from Atlanta in 2011. While Hellebuyck has been a revelation, the 24-year-old has never played in the postseason. A hot goaltender is a key ingredient for a long playoff run, so I assume he’ll stay composed under pressure. Stingy defense is another ingredient, and the Jets have been stellar on D. They are fifth-best in the league in goals per game, allowing 2.6. The Capitals are more mediocre in this area, as a leaky defense has been a concern since training camp. Washington is below the league average, allowing 2.93 goals per game.

As it stands now, the Jets would face the Wild in the first round, and that’s a tough matchup. The Capitals, meanwhile, would draw the Devils — young and plucky like the Jets, but once again, potentially overmatched by experience. My heart wants the Jets to make a long playoff run, but my gut says the Ovechkin-led Capitals — a team that has plenty of experience playing in April and May — may make it further.

Chris Peters, NHL prospects writer: What will be more difficult to overcome: the psyche that comes with not being able to get past the second round in the Ovechkin era for the Capitals or the relative inexperience of the Jets when it comes to the postseason? Both of those can be viewed as deficits, but they also could create some level of hunger in each team. In the case of the Capitals, we’ve been wondering for years if this is the year. Honestly, this doesn’t feel like the year, but I still think they have a better chance of advancing further than the Jets. I’m just not sure either ends up getting past the second round, for many of the same reasons Greg and Emily noted above.

Which teams have the best shot at locking up a playoff spot? Who’s earning a better shot at the No. 1 overall pick? Here are the latest projections for both, along with critical matchups to watch today and more. Read »

The current playoff format really hampers the Jets in that they’d have to face the titan of their own division in the second round. I just think Nashville is a deeper team overall — even though I don’t think the gap is as significant as you might think — and after getting so close last year, the Predators are even better now. On the other side, the Caps are used to the playoff format putting them in a tough spot, but you have to find a way, right? They might have just enough to get past the Penguins this time, but I’m going to need to see it to believe it.

Regardless of which team goes further, I think this is going to be an important building-block season for Winnipeg. The Jets are right on the cusp of taking their place among the league’s heavyweights. They have a few key contracts to resolve this summer, namely Hellebuyck’s and Jacob Trouba‘s new deals as restricted free agents, but the Jets’ core has a chance to be special over the next few seasons. That Stanley Cup window seems like it’s peeking open. It will be interesting to see what Winnipeg can do during this postseason, where it should be viewed at least as a legitimate threat.

[rockrevoltmagazine]

Doyle to Join GWAR The Blood of Gods Tour; AS WE DIE Tour 2017 Dates Announced

Beginning October 20 in Richmond, VA, Legendary Misfits Guitarist Doyle Wolfgang Von Frankenstein will be joining “the Scumdogs of the Universe”, GWAR, on The Blood of Gods Tour, along with Ghoul and U.S. Bastards, for 13 dates spanning the East Coast and Midwest up to the Sioux City, IA show November 4. DOYLE then continues his reign of terror with his AS WE DIE WORLD TOUR 2017 supporting the band’s new album, As We Die, an EMP Label Group/ Monsterman Records release in stores or online at Doyle Official and EMP Merch. Picking up November 6 in Fargo, ND, the tour finishes up November 11 in Flint, MI (more dates to be announced).

GWAR The Blood of Gods Tour W/ Ghoul, Doyle and U.S. Bastards Dates: 10/20 @ The National – Richmond, VA 10/21 @ Agora Ballroom – Cleveland, OH 10/22 @ Opera House – Toronto, ON * 10/23 @ Mr. Smalls – Millvale, PA 10/25 @ Arizona Petes – Greensboro, NC 10/26 @ Rams Head Live – Baltimore, MD 10/27 @ Toad’s Place – New Haven, CT 10/28 @ Palladium – Worcester, MA 10/29 @ Trocadero – Philadelphia, PA 10/31 @ Irving Plaza – New York, NY 11/01 @ Town Ballroom – Buffalo, NY 11/02 @ Mercury Ballroom – Louisville, KY * 11/03 @ Pop’s – St. Louis, MO 11/04 @ Hard Rock – Sioux City, IA 11/05 @ Granada – Lawrence, KS * No DOYLE

Doyle “As We Die” Tour 2017 11/06 @ The Aquarium – Fargo, ND 11/07 @ Big’s Bar – Sioux Falls, SD 11/08 @ Whiskey Junction – Minneapolis, MN 11/09 @ Every Buddy’s Bar – Chippewa Falls, WI 11/10 @ The Forge – Joliet, IL 11/11 @ The Machine Shop – Flint, MI

About Doyle:

Facebook | Official | Twitter

Lodi, a small borough of Bergen County, New Jersey, is just over two square miles. There’s not much to suggest that the small village would be the birthplace of a world famous, blood-soaked form of music known as horror punk. Legendary acts The Misfits, Samhain, and Danzig all have their origins in Lodi, and something monstrous indeed lurks there. The poster child and originator of the genre, himself, has once again unleashed an evil noise on an unsuspecting world: Doyle Wolfgang Von Frankenstein’s first release, Abominator, by his eponymous band, Doyle.

Released on Doyle’s own label, Monsterman Records, Abominator is a sonically thick and lyrically evil slab of metal that finds Doyle expanding in a logical progression upon the genre of music he helped create. Doyle’s first band, the infamous Glenn Danzig-fronted Misfits, helped create the genre of speed/thrash metal with their last album, 1983’s Earth AD/Wolf’s Blood– in fact the record has been revered as one of the blueprints for the genre by many of its most respected players, as evidenced by countless groups covering the album’s songs, not the least of which being Metallica. Abominator is not the sound of some punk guitarist gone metal- it’s the roaring return of one of extreme metal’s original architects to his blood-splattered drawing board.

Coming from a legendary band of almost mythological proportions, and having first worked with one of the most talented and respected vocalists of the century (the infamous Glenn Danzig), Doyle’s new project would need a singer with brass balls, cast-iron pipes, a suitably twisted mind, and his own vocal delivery style. Enter Alabama’s Alex Story of Cancerslug, a Southern fiend who’s sand-blasted scream opens the record, and the evil doesn’t relent until the ending growl of “Hope Hell Is Warm”, the album’s defiant closer. The man can scream and sing, and employs both styles to great effect, switching seamlessly from raw-throated roars to rough-edged, yet melodic, clean vocals. Alex’s live performances can only be described as unforgettable, disturbing and strangely addictive – a perfect complement to the already mammoth stage presence of Doyle himself.

The unmistakable sound of Doyle’s signature Annihilator guitar cuts through on every tune like a sonic fingerprint, starting with the snarling opening title track Abominator. The Annihilator’s tone is sharp as a butcher’s knife in the wrong hands and just as nasty- fans of the Misfits will recognize it right away. On tunes like “Headhunter” and “Land of the Dead” the riffs are relentless, and if a riff could be described in emotional terms, remorseless. “Dreamingdeadgirls” brings a blackened-blues swing, and the doom-laden “Love Like Murder” shows a healthy appreciation for all things Sabbath. “Blood Stains” moves from primal sludge to ripping off-time thrash with ease. The album is just that- an album, a cohesive and well executed piece of work that takes the listener on a journey; albeit a bloody journey to places some fear to tread.

As befits songs as musically dark as Abominator‘s, the album’s lyrics are not for the faint of heart. Throughout the entire record, there is absolutely zero attempt to balance its evil with any sort of good counterpoint- penned entirely by Story (probably in blood), Abominator‘s lyrics are entirely and uncompromisingly dark. Music fans looking for feel- good anthems had best look elsewhere- those who enjoy strolling through the shadows will be greatly satisfied.

So how did this Jersey devil and crew wind up with a Dixie-bred howler? “After I had written all this music, I realized I had to get someone to sing this stuff- once I’m done recording guitars, all I can see is myself just playing that riff, ya know? That’s my thing, not lyrics and singing,” Doyle says, with typically blunt candor. “I’ve known Alex for a while, so I called him up, then sent him a bunch of the tunes. Two days later he sent me back ‘Mark of the Beast’, just like it is on the record. I said ‘That’s exactly what I want!’, and the rest is history. I only wrote the word ‘abominator’- all the rest of that stuff is Alex. He’s just crazy, man”.

It’s a match made in hell. But no metal band would be complete without a complete animal behind the drum kit. Brandon “The Crusher” Pertzborn (of Black Flag) delivers all the aggression and insanity necessary (and then some) with his exquisite musicality and showmanship.

So what can fans expect at a Doyle show?

“To get fucking pummeled, man. And then go home and ask themselves ‘What the fuck just happened to me?!?’, hahaha…” he replies with a laugh that this time, no joke about it, actually sounds evil. Loud, aggressive, and technically proficient, Doyle and crew are set to show the world how true horror metal sounds today.

So crank up Abominator until your speakers blow, check out Doyle on tour, and let the beatings begin!

written by: Randy Blythe of Lamb of God

Doyle to Join GWAR The Blood of Gods Tour; AS WE DIE Tour 2017 Dates Announced was originally published on RockRevolt Mag