#your champ ladies and gents

[friedpestochicken]

RG24 💚🧡

[stoopidpigeonxx]

To the anon that suggested Curly Manhandling..

here bookie <3

NSFW MINORS GO AWAY

Curly’s quite the big fellow. He knows it, too. He’s always flexing his arms in front of you to show off his gym gain and taking every opportunity to show off his impressive build. You don’t mind it. It’s a bit of a turn-on, knowing all that is all yours. But the best part is when he uses that muscle he worked so hard on to fuck you dumb. He knew you liked to be manhandled and took that to heart, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder whenever you suggested taking things to the bedroom. He adored the squeals and giggles from you when he did. Filled his heart with a sense of pride… or maybe he just adored his sweet girl. His favorite method was pushing your legs up to your head while he pounded into you, seeing the very slight bulge of his cock outlined in your stomach when he thrusts. You’re soaked and gripping him like a vice and he could die happily right now, buried 9 inches inside you. He’d hunch over to quicken his pace, hands pinning your wrists up by your head. He’d love looking at your fucked-out face, the slight drool pooling at the corner of your lips, your slightly crossed eyes, mouth parted in an O shape. You looked so pretty like this. He wanted to take a picture and frame it, hang it above his bed so he could see it every day. Your face was amazing, but it came in second only to your moans. Your beautiful, sweet little noises. Whines of his name, pleas, whimpers, all of it spurred him on. Hearing his name from your mouth was music to his ears. “Yeah, baby? Wan’ me to go faster? Harder? You got it, lemme take care of you.. Sweet thing.” “Fuck, you’re takin’ me good… g’na make me come quick..” And you took it like a champ. When he did pump you full of his kids, you took every drop. He’d let you fall back and observe his come leaking out your poor cunt. But he’s not finished, ladies and gents. Oh no. He doesn’t normally do this out of fear of hurting you, but when he’s particularly stressed and you’re just offering yourself.. Full Nelson time!! Yup, he’s got your back pressed flush against his chest, ass against his pelvis, cock thrusting in and out of you. He has an arm locked around you to hold you in place, and his other’s holding up one of your thighs for a better angle. You find this position the hottest because he finally gets to be rough with you.he begs to differ, but as long as it makes you happy, and it really does. “Fu-uck, baby, keep movin’ like that, i gotcha.. Mhmmm. Feels so good..” He’s babbling praise into your ear while he destroys you, the gentleman that he is, and making sure to kiss you everywhere he can. Soft little ‘sorry’s on your skin. He feels bad for being so rough with you, but he can't help it when it feels so good. Even he’s moaning like a girl now just from the euphoric bliss of being inside your sweet little cunt. And he’ll keep going, until he’s filled you up with at least 5 loads of his come. He wants to pump you full of his babies in hopes he’ll start a family with you. But, more likely, he’s just obsessed with seeing you leak his seed out of your abused hole. Either way, you’re full of him, a reminder of what he does to you. You’ll certainly find it difficult to walk tomorrow, but it’s worth it. He’ll take care of you, since it’s his fault you’re in that state, poor thing. And he’ll do it all over again when you want him to! <3

[dukeoftheblackstar]

@sinfulsalutations

I am blown away by reader's thoughts during the whole thing it made it so immersive I had to reel myself back out of there and swap good ol' Jango for Boba because Boba is my son and I cannot HAHHAHAHA. But in all seriousness, very, VERY, VERY nice realism touch.

You’ve never felt this small before.

In other words, 'buckle up, bitches', right? RIGHT!?

"He must love this. You’d hope so, at least. Many times you’ve brought a release with your own fingers, but they’re nothing compared to his. Not as big, not as thick. He just manages to be gentle enough to leave you only slightly uncomfortable…"

I'm gonna brush the fact that he is indeed pussy-eating champ like his dad because I am very drawn to the idea of the reader having thoughts. This is immersive ready and I'm here to gobble this bitch up. The whole 'he must love this' and you/reader hoping for it is stays true to this day's prompt of virginity vibe.

"Not as big, not as thick but enough to leave you slightly uncomfortable" adds that detailed touch of keeping a little-little bit of realism in the mix because it's never always comfortable. This detail here? A + times ∞ x ∞.

“How many fingers do you need, baby?” “Three?”

Prime Boba right here, ladies and gent. Cause our king doesn't need to wait for answers, doesn't need to know that one is for pussies, two's for champs, and three's for baby girls who make supreme Lord Boba's kokoro (heart) go doki doki (heartbeat sounds) enough to even bat an eye your way and give you the first night of many more nights of hot love making or feral sex.

I am also very weak for the 'baby' term of endearment, so like.. BOBAPLS.

“Feeling okay? It’s okay if you can’t speak. Just nod, yes or no.”

MKKKKKKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY.

He’s incredibly gentle. But he doesn’t go slow.

Control and balance? Fucking power move. Go babe. Hit it.

One day you’ll be able to take it all. This is just the beginning. But this is already so much. So much you might just cry.

What can I say? Big man. Big genes. Big dick.

It’s still incredibly difficult to process that he not only chose you, but let you choose him.

You gotta hand it to Boba, this man just does not fuck. He love fucks.

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕠𝕓𝕒 𝕗𝕖𝕥𝕥

⋆ ★ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2023 ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ʙᴏʙᴀ ꜰᴇᴛᴛ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʙᴏʙᴀ, ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇɴɪꜱ ɪɴ ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀ ꜱᴇx, ʟᴏꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ

⋆ ★ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢɪʀʟɪᴇ ᴛᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴜꜱᴄʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴘʀᴇᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʜᴏᴘᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ʙᴏʙᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

You’ve never felt this small before.

One of the most feared men in the galaxy is between your legs, holding you so softly and carefully as if you might shatter at any moment. Such a tactile man, hardened from years of battle, now rightfully in your arms, rightfully claiming you, in such a manner nothing else could’ve been destined.

“Oh…” It’s just a simple sigh, a gentle commendation of his slow, concentrated strokes with his tongue. You want to say more, tell Boba how good it feels, how good he’s making you feel, but you’re rendered to a simple blubber and string of words that pathetically make up fractured sentences and pleasant, flimsy moans. He rumbles between your thighs, the vibrations sending a shiver down your legs and making your toes curl every so slightly. You dig a heel into his shoulder.

Boba pulls away from your sopping cunt, swiping his tongue over his lips to gather your lingering taste there, and gazes up. His stare is surprisingly unusually sweet. Unusually tender.

“How are you feeling, little one?” He asks you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your outer lips. A hiss uncoils out of your tongue and your chest heaves with a heavy breath. Boba waits patiently.

“Really good, Boba.” You even make the gesture and effort to lean your body onto one hand instead of both, taking the free one to hold his cheek. The merciless bounty hunter melts in your hold; he turns his head to leave a firm kiss on your palm. Then your thumb. Then your index. He kisses each tip of your finger as you compose your next thoughts. “I feel really good.”

Something of a grin reaches his lips; it isn’t one typical of a regular man, but it’s a characteristically hardened expression that means all the more to you. It means he’s grateful, savoring each moment he has with you. Your heart swells and arousal pools.

He returns to the task beforehand; easy strokes of his tongue ease you back into the feeling before he trails a hand up, closer to your entrance where he hasn’t been before. As you feel the tip of the first knuckle undulate small, contained circles, you squeal quietly. Boba perks up.

“Do you want me to continue?”

It’s not a hard decision to make. You nod your head, adding a sweet ‘yes,’ voice just a little breather than before.

Boba’s hand glides over the top of your entrance, fingertips a phantom touch barely caressing your pussy, yet it’s enough to make you tremble. Then, he presses further. He makes his touch more purposeful.

Gathering dollops of wetness for a moment, rubbing the spend over one digit, before sliding it in slowly. Soothing yet nerve-wracking all the same.

But then, the finger is seated in you with little resistance. Little pain. You feel your warmth hug his appendage, keeping it firmly inside of you as you stretch just the slightest bit (yet more than you ever have), and sigh sweetly.

“Mm…” You hum, eyes fluttering close for a minute. The soft noise of praise you can’t distinguish and the featherlight peck on your inner thigh bring you back to the moment.

“Good job,” is all he says. Yet it’s all enough. You see in his gaze the fascination, the utter reverence in his stare that makes you want to curl up into yourself and scream into the sheets to never rise up again. But you keep your stare on him.

Boba lifts himself up, resting his knees between yours to spread you out further and join you on his expansive bed. As if you couldn’t relax any further, your shoulders practically sink into the mattress beneath you, and his eyes twinkle.

He must love this.

You’d hope so, at least.

“Hm, look at yourself, little one.” The praise sends you into another frenzy, breathing low in your stomach stagnated. “‘Getting stretched out nice and good. Taking my fingers like a good little princess.”

“Boba,” You sob quietly, feeling the digit sink deeper into you. Many times you’ve brought a release with your own fingers, but they’re nothing compared to his. Not as big, not as thick. He just manages to be gentle enough to leave you only slightly uncomfortable, yet the slow movement of his hand and wrist rocking back and forth, back and forth is already bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

Boba can feel it.

“How many fingers do you need, baby?”

You mouth something that he doesn’t seem to understand, instead deciding for you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear.

“Three?”

The only thing you can do is whine and rock your hips.

“Yeah, I think you do,” Boba answers his own question, pushing in a second finger with little resistance from your body and fucking you with his fingers steadily. “`Gonna need some stretching if you want me to deflower you.”

You just manage to stave off your orgasm until he gets a third finger in, leaving you positively soaked and stretched more than you’ve ever been before. Boba stays silent, breathing in his stomach while cradling the back of your head. His free hand tucks strands of hair behind your ear when you come down with soft sighs and hiccups. All the while, he talks; you’d never think he’d be talking in the bedroom as much as he does.

“Mm, you’re doing so well, little one.”

“Feeling okay? It’s okay if you can’t speak. Just nod, yes or no.”

“Nuh-uh. Just stay like that. Let me make this good for you.”

When you catch your breath, you see Boba’s already taken off the bottom part of his armor, leaving him just as bare as you. He meets you on the bed, pressing his knees on either side of your legs and resting your head on a plush pillow, bunching your hair to keep it out of your eyes. The simple considerate gesture has you reeling.

It’s still oddly blunt, nonetheless. Only the slimmest layer of sugary pleasantness coats his actions; you still see the hardened, rough, unrelenting man he is. But it’s in an entirely new light now. The roughness is all his way of handling you the way he wants, ensuring you’re satisfied and taken care of with no trace of unhappiness left in your body. In the determination, there is thoughtfulness.

Boba lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, forcing your chin to stop looking at where your bodies will meet and inevitably join and instead into his eyes.

“I’ll make you feel good, little one. I promise.” He seals the guarantee with a sweet kiss, holding your chin to angle your face properly. 

When he pulls away, he pushes barely an inch forward and you gasp, suddenly strung tight by nerves.

He’s incredibly gentle. But he doesn’t go slow.

The thick girth of his cock stretches your pussy out, even more than his fingers, unrushed and carefully, despite how taut he keeps his stomach. As you observe his face, you begin to question if Boba is even breathing.

Despite his caution and gingerly stretch, there’s still a twinge of pain that rushes through you. It’s washed, practically doused and drenched by your own arousal, your own wetness, and the deep, low, perpetual throbbing in your lower stomach.

Boba presses his forehead to yours and you finally hear him let out a deep exhale.

“That’s it,” he praises with a groan when you involuntarily clench, finally processing the new sensations all throughout your body.

Suddenly, you’re whining and hiding your face in his shoulder when he pulls out slightly, the slick link of your bodies causing a slight difficulty to disconnect. As he presses back in, your words are pathetically gracious, pure reverence as you take only a fraction of all Boba has to give you. One day you’ll be able to take it all. This is just the beginning. But this is already so much. So much you might just cry.

It’s still incredibly difficult to process that he not only chose you, but let you choose him.

So you whine out,

“Thank you.”

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[rintarous]

you don’t know how you, atsumu, osamu and suna all ended up outside the twins’ house yelling your lungs out at some spider that you all managed to chase out. 

“KILL IT!” you shrilled, jumping away whenever the spider seems to move towards you guys. you grabbed the next person next to you who was atsumu and shoved him towards the spider. 

“I’M TRYING!” atsumu desperately yells out, battling out the spider with a broomstick. atsumu misses and the spider has once again had the upper hand and crawled towards him via the broom. 

you’ve never heard someone so manly scream like a little girl like this before.

suna, who couldn’t take this shit anymore, decides he’d be the one to kill it for good. he yanks the broomstick out of atsumu’s hands and whacks it to the ground, hitting the spider perfectly.   

he drops the broom and walks towards you guys like a champ. “and that’s how you kill spiders, ladies and gents” suna says smugly, not noticing the look of horror on all of your faces. suna looks at all of you in confusion, “what?”

“it gave birth..” osamu points out, watching the tiny creepy crawlies spread out after the main spider was killed. you didn’t even waste another second before you bolted out of atsumu and osamu’s street with the rest of them trailing behind you.

[shipwrexked]

Jennifer L. Armentrout. Let’s talk Covenant.

“ALEX: “How come you smile when you knock me down?” AIDEN: “It’s the little things that make me happy.” ― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Half-Blood Ok ladies and gents. Last week and the week before I took you through The Dark Elements series featuring Layla, Roth, Zayne, and Caymen followed up with the spin off series The Harbinger and we had all that Rage and Ruin goodness last week.

Now I can’t wait to introduce you to my second favorite series of Jennifer Armentrout “The Covenant” series. The Covenant series is what happens when Greek Mythology becomes real. Just like with Dark Elements, The Covenant series a modern take on the Gods and their shenanigans. If you are a fan of the Webtoon series “Lore Olympus” then you are going to LOVE this series. 

The Covenant series follows Alexandria “Alex” Andros a young girl whose life is intertwined with fate and destiny or in this case between “need” and “want”

“Need covers itself with love, but need… need is never love. Always beware of the one who needs you. There is always a want behind a need, you see.” -Oracle (Half Blood, Covenant book 1)

Of course the gods of Olympus have been up to no good because, when are they ever well behaved right? Alex and her merry band of misfits must come together in truly awkward, sometimes epically embarrassing but always spectacular ways to put right what the gods have messed up.

Without further ado let me introduce you to the fabulous crew of Diety Island.

Alexandria “Alex” Andros: She’s the Half Mortal and Half Pure a.k.a. The next Apollyon that everyone loves. She’s always salty, she holds a grudge like a champ, and she’s got the mouth of a sailor on shore leave. Alex holds her bigger than life personality together with trash talk and serious bravery. Alex will make you laugh, cringe, and cry and by the end of the series you’ll be her biggest fan too.

“No. I do believe in them. I just think they’re absentee landlords. Right now, they’re probably hanging out somewhere in Las Vegas, screwing showgirls and cheating at poker.” ― Alex-Half-Blood Covenant Series book 1

Aiden St. Delphi: He’s yummy with a capital Y. This Sentinel is 100% Pure...blood that it is. Aiden comes to Alex’s rescue in Atlanta and he’s just such a SAINT. A yummy, yummy, good guy saint.

“ALEX: “How come you smile when you knock me down?” AIDEN: “It’s the little things that make me happy.” ― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Half-Blood 

Caleb: He’s a half whose been Alex’s BFF since they were eight years old. He’s always got her back and their platonic friendship is the stuff that friendship dreams are made of!!! 

“You better have had a baby, killed someone, or slept with a pure. Those are your three options. Anything less is unsuitable.” ― Caleb, Half-Blood-Covenant Series book 1

Seth: Seth is the bad boy you love to hate. He’s obnoxious and annoying and he’s smart assy, he’s basically Alex but in boy form. He’s the current Apollyon and according to fate he’s Alex’s other half. 

“You’re such a stalker, Seth. How long were you standing there?” “I am not a stalker, and I was standing there long enough to realize you have no self-control and you’re unstable. I kind of like that about you—mainly because I find it entertaining.” ― Alex and Seth Half-Blood, Covenant book 1

 Leon: He’s a pure blood sentinel who has the worst timing when it comes to things of a naughty nature. Seriously this guys ability to interrupt all the fun shenanigans between couples is off the charts and when you find out who he really is…you’re gonna DIE!! Lore Olympus fans are going to KEEL OVER DEAD!!!

Luke: Luke is another half. He’s Alex and Caleb’s friend and as the series progresses through the books he get closer and closer to Alex and Aiden’s brother Deacon. I truly love Luke for a whole host of reasons but mostly it’s his non-judgmental support of people that draws me in. He’s funny without be unkind, he’s adorable and yeah I love his dirty sense of humor.

“Did I get you in trouble today during practice?” “No. I’m usually easily distracted. So it was nothing new.” Luke nudged me, grinning. “I can see why you are distracted. Too bad he’s a pure. I’d give my left butt cheek for a piece of that.” “He likes girls.” “So?” Luke laughed at my expression. “What’s he like? He seems so quiet. Like you know he’d be good in—” “Stop right there!”—Alex and Luke, Half Blood (Covenant Series book 1)

Deacon: Deacon is Aiden’s younger brother. He’s often referred to by the other students at the Covenant as a “Zeus” or as a “Zeus fanboy” basically what they mean is that Deacon is the resident man-whore. He’s an equal opportunity lover and he has a lot of lovers. He’s the opposite of Aiden in my many ways. Where Aiden is often referred to as SAINT Delphi (emphasis on the saint), Deacon is often referred to as the less stellar brother. He’s an unapologetic party boy and he brings the necessary levity to the group that they often need in dark times.

Marcus: Marcus Andros is the Dean of Diety Island Covenant and he’s also Alex’s uncle. He’s not her favorite person in the beginning. Ok who am I kidding he’s not her favorite person for quite some time.

All of these characters and more make up the Army of Awesome or the AOA and together with other characters they will have to take on Olympus, The Underworld, and creatures of myths and legends to save our world.

Did I mention Olympus? Yeah, the Greek Gods are here in force and if you’re a Lore Olympus fan you will absolutely love this series!  

Holy Hades there’s Apollo, Artemis, Athena, Hades, Persephone and many more of the gods. They will make you cringe and laugh and when Apollo throws his little bitch fits you’ll laugh till you cry!!!

[artgurusauce]

So, how was Pokemon Shield?

Before I start, this is going to cover the main game, not post-game. Sorry, no talk about Dickhead Swordward and Shieldbert. Also, if it wasn’t obvious already, massive spoilers ahead. 

IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE SPOILED, DO NOT READ THIS POST

I’m not going to ramble for hours about this, because to be honest, my thoughts about this are much briefer than they are for gen 7/Alola. Not to say there’s not much going on in this game, just that if you were expecting a super professional and profound review of the game from me, you may or may not be disappointed.

I will do my best to be articulate, though.

I’ll start with the rivals, the most obvious choice the begin with being: Hop.

Hop is definitely not like Hau like so many people were desperate to make me believe pre-release. In fact, while their arcs are similar, there’s a biiig difference. That difference, to me, is their changes in character. Hau had a big ass crash, yes, but his character change was pretty damn gradual. With Hop, after Bede puts him down, well, you can pretty much tell he’s not the same guy right off the bat the next time you talk to him. I absolutely adore Hope and I’m glad he got as much screen time and focus as he did. His arc was fantastically written and beautifully handled all the way to the end. All I can say is, another cinnamon roll for the collection.

Then there’s...Marnie.

Now, I don’t hate her, far from it. I adore her very much as well. The problem is that it seems she doesn’t get much time to flesh out like Hop did. A problem that goes both ways between her and Bede. Of course when I got to the seventh gym and met big brother Piers I actually did like the dynamic they were going for. Buuut I really wish they had given Marnie just a little more time to herself before that. I just didn’t feel like they did enough with her and...that’s a damn shame considering how popular she was upon her first reveal. Of course, again, this isn’t to say I don’t think she’s still just the cutest little punk goth button ever.

Sigh...and now it’s time for me to talk about Bede.

Look, from what I could tell, half the fandom was nuts for him, the other half was sick to death of a generic douchebag rival that adds no flavor to the table. But I’m a little torn on this one. Like I said, him and Marnie share an awful side effect of Hop’s arc being the most prominent...they don’t get enough time or everything that happens in their arcs feels...rushed, by comparison, at least in my opinion. So the thing is, when Bede gets disowned by Chairman Rose, of course my first reaction is “You had it coming, you were being a shit.” But then Opal...takes him in? And...acts as though Oleana manipulated him? I guess I could perhaps see what they were going for here, and, I’ll admit it, I kind of adored their dynamic, albeit a short interaction between them. And I did find it rather cute at the League when he was all flustered about being trained by Opal, having to continue training because everyone was cheering for him. But the thing is...his arc is kind of...broken? Like, I want to feel bad for him, and I want to feel invested in Opal taking him in and showing him the ropes of the Fairy Gym but...it just doesn’t work like it should. Which is odd considering Bede gets considerably more time to flesh his arc than Marnie, at least, that’s how it seemed to me. I do think the general story and Hop’s own arc really just forced the writing’s hand in sweeping Bede’s arc by as fast as possible. He could’ve been an interesting diversion of expectation, but...oh well.

Speaking of gyms, how do I feel about the gym leaders?

Well, Milo is a fucking cinnamon roll, and I do think I’ve settled on shipping him with Nessa because...I mean...c’mon now. Short bean boy, toll ocean gal? Perfect for each other ♥

I don’t really...feel anything towards Kabu. His design is bland, his personality didn’t stick out to me at all, but I guess they can’t all be iconic gems when you think about it.

Then...there’s my baby boy Allister. And lawd, my dudes, if Hop ain’t my new son well then Allister sure as fuck is. I did HC that he was mute like Red before the game came out and, well, his personality and dialogue are pretty good despite not being what I was hoping. I mean, c’mon, how can you not love that adorable little face? Or that he’s so socially introverted he keeps a collection of masks to make absolute sure his face is hidden? I am going to be quoting “Crumbs, that’s aces” forever now.

Opal was an interesting woman, I definitely think there could’ve been more to her relationship with Bede but I already discussed that. My dad thought she was kinda scary and creepy but she reminds me of that old lady from Spirited Away so I ain’t bothered all that much lol. She was nice enough, I do like her humbleness and that she’s willing to admit it’s definitely time for her to call it quits. And yes, I have seen that official art of her when she was younger. She is a fucking QUEEN  ♥ ♥ ♥

Then comes Melony...hoooo boy my lesbian ass is fallin’ so hard it physically hurts me in ways you will never imagine in your life. Wicke wishes she was this thicc. In all seriousness though, I am pretty curious about that son of hers. I heard you can meet him in Sword but I’ll have to wait and see that for myself. Aside from being the newest love of my life, she’s absolutely adorable and wholesome. I know her card reveres her as strict, but, she just looks like a cinnamon roll.

Piers...oh Piers, where do I even begin? His design is fucking on point, for one thing. And his relationship with his sister Marnie is just so cute and so much fun to watch. As unfortunately left field as it was for me, I did like his arc about not being a good Gym Leader and wanting his sister to take over for him. It was sweet and kinda sad but I just love him so much. For the first Dark Type Gym Leader, not bad guys, not bad at all. Also omg Piers slay me with your metal, king plsssss

Finally, there’s Raihan and...omg he’s so great. This mother fucker not only takes selfies in the middle of a match, not only bombards you with weather effects therefore making him a fun and challenging opponent, but this dude is also beefin’ with our head champ? SIGN ME UP, FAM. For real though, like, I loved battling with Raihan the most out of anybody that I fought. I definitely haven’t felt this much fun battling a Gym Leader in years. And I will forever be torn as to whether or not I want to ship him with Leon >3>

Speaking of the chadster, I ain’t talked about ‘im yet. Or Sonia, for that matter. Honestly, they’re both pretty great. 

But Leon is the fuckin’ MVP this gen, I’ll tell you what. He’s such a bro he tells Rose his “Day of Destiny” bullshit can fuck off til our match is over. Of course, I do like his ditzy and dorky sides too. Like his snapback collection or how easily he gets lost seriously Leon it’s just a straight fucking line to your house how do you fuck that up. But he ain’t just a bro to the main character, naw, he a bro to his actual bro, Hop. And I fuckin’ love it. Their interactions are so investing and entertaining and wonderful to watch. It’s almost kind of magical, in a way. I think he is without a doubt my number one favorite Champion of all time now. 

But as for Sonia, well, I dunno...maybe I’m nitpicky or remembering things wrong but she seemed to drop her disdain for researching the legend of the “Darkest Day” like a hat at some point. Granted, I still think her character arc while it wasn’t even needed was very well done. I loved listening to her dork out about the legends, her research, all of it. It was spectacular. And ever since I first found out she was childhood friends with Leon before the game even came out, ladies and gents, these two have dun been my OTP. The only one still challenging that notion is Raihan at this point, lol.

And now...we get to Oleana and Chairman Rose.

Oleana is just...kind of a nothing character for me, personally. Even after knowing about her Garbardor and all that, sorry fam, she ain’t doin’ it for me. She was a red herring so overblown and obvious it has since been laughable that anybody thought she was gonna be this gen’s Lusamine. She is just...some really crazy lady who happens to be passionate about her job. Ok.

Rose, however, is an absolute bastard. And I love it. However, I do have a problem with this, as it sort of connects to my earlier point with Bede. His relationship with Bede is...I don’t even know if I could call it a father-son relationship. I mean, yeah, he basically adopted him, but he disowns him at the drop of a hat. Granted, what Bede did was wrong, but...really? I guess that’s just how much of a dick he is, but, there’s no closure to that. Even after finding out what a horrible, deplorable man Rose is, Bede never talks to him after he’s disowned. Maybe this was meant to be a “Well it’s better he moves on to the next chapter of his life as soon as possible” sort of thing. But his sudden taking under Opal’s wing did not accomplish that feeling with me. So it feels sort of...hollow, to me. There’s no conclusion, follow-up, it’s almost as if Bede didn’t even know who Rose was anymore after Opal scooped him up. And yeah, Bede says “Everything has gone wrong since I met you” but...here’s the problem; That’s as much as he goes into being affected by Rose. It’s not too important, I guess, but it’s something that bothered me, personally. Rose’s motivations seem...ok, I guess. It’s about what I was expecting. Seriously though, his battle theme has no business being that good.

Those are all my thoughts on the characters, at least any that were all that worth talking about. Without further ado: Allow me to introduce y’all to my babies...

As I mentioned on Monday, my team consists of an Appletun, Centiskorch, Greedent, Hatterene, Inteleon, and an Eiscue. And I only just now realize like 5 out of 6 of them have names that start with a “C” lmao.

First up, we have my very first darling: Chastity

There’s a few things one should know about this slick little bitch:

Big shock, she was a huuuge cry baby as a Sobble. Like, mortified of pretty much everybody. Total mama’s girl. But as a Drizzile she was just a total grump goth binch. The only one of my Pokemon in my camp she would give the time of day is her dear friend Chariot, who at the time was a Hattrem. They pretty much grew up together and they’re besties now.

But now that Chastity is fully grown, well...she’s a little...flirtatious. Oh, no, not with the boys on her team. No no no. Every camp we step onto she’s just flirtin’ like a mad woman. She even managed to seduce my dad’s Cinderace who was already a huge playboy

Still, I can’t stay mad at this cute little brat. She’s still a total mama’s girl at heart and I love her to death. Btw, her Snipe Shot is ridiculously strong, though that’s probably because she’s still holding a Mystic Water haha

Up next is our resident lady in waiting: Chariot

I found Chariot in the Motostoke Outskirts and she has always been a picky snob even as a Hattena. She only ate small portions unless it was Whipped Cream Curry. Though nowadays I’m sure she only eats in such small portions to maintain her figure...

As I said before, she and Chastity have pretty much always been best friends. I definitely love to imagine her always hassling Chastity for her less than lady-like behavior though, haha. Chariot was weirdly sleepy as a Hattrem, though. Like...she dozed off a lot. She must’ve been getting plenty of beauty sleep for her evolution lol. 

I used to have a Toxtricity on my team named Ripper before I found an Eiscue for the League, and she seemed quite enamored with him. At least for the long period he was with us, she talked to him 50% of the time when I stopped for a little break. It was incredibly adorable, though I fear what might happen if I leave them alone at a daycare for too long...  <(⚆_⚆;)>

As a grown Hatterene, she’s rather dainty and conversative. I’m actually surprised, lately she’s starting to talk to some of her other fellow team mates lately. I suppose she’s not as stuck-up as she pretends to be, haha.

Up next we have our looonnnggg boy: Mushu

I picked up Mushu at Kabu’s gym. He was pretty shy as a tiny Sizzlipede and often avoided talking to most of his team mates. He was pretty spooked by a lot of them, actually, particularly Ripper for reasons I never quite understood. I guess when Ripper was still a baby, Mushu didn’t understand why he cried so much and was terrified of the loud noises he made lol.

However, he grew into a long boi rather quickly and he’s pulled us through some pretty tough spots in the gym challenges so I like to spoil him with lots of play time. He’s got a Jolly nature and honestly, it shows a lot more now that he’s all grown up. He loves to play and races with his team mates pretty much all the time. Rip Caramel, your utter annihilation will not be forgotten. He’s a very sweet and almost gentle boy and I honestly feel bad for all the battering he’s had to take before because I was a little too eager to take on opponents way out of my league.

A couple of fun facts about him before we move on:

His favorite curry in the curry dex is Smoked Tail Curry, which he always eats in gigantic portions. He freaking loves camping on Route 6 or in Stow-On-Side, I guess he really loves the heat.

Up next is my precious dumpling baby: Caramel

I first caught Caramel on Route 5, and I love love looove my baby apple pie. He’s such a chill and adorkable little dragon and I’m not one to pick favorites but...oh, who am I kidding? He’s totally my favorite.

As an Applin he was just too cute. He was a little slow and none of his team mates seemed to understand him so they tended to leave him by himself. So I ended up having to give him lots of attention so he wasn’t too lonely. And gosh was he just the cutest little baby apple. Of course, he wasn’t an Applin for very long, so there’s not much to speak of regarding his early stages.

However, once he evolved, he became a fucking tank. Caramel can take hits like a freaking champ and since I gave him Draco Meteor he’s practically an unstoppable beast. Of course, by heart, he’s a Lax boyo and enjoys the littlest things in life: Like the nice breezes in the Wild Area, or his Apple Curry, even if it’s snowing something fierce outside he’s all about it. And I just- argh he’s so fuckin’ cute!  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Up next we’ve got the chunky cheeked baby: Peter Griffin Conker

Conker is a Gentle boy who’s been with me since the very beginning at Route 1, and it fits since objectively he’s probably the weakest Pokemon I’ve got on my team. But that’s ok, because he’s definitely scored us a couple of hard gym challenges just like Mushu has. He was definitely useful for buying some time when I needed it, that’s for sure.

He was pretty chattery as a Skwovet, even if some of his team mates weren’t all that talkative looking at you, Chastity. This probably comes as no surprise, but he’s always had a bottomless stomach. Seriously, he’s eaten large portions even as a baby Skwovet and it baffles me. Guess he’s just a really hungy boy, lol.

As a fully grown, chunky Greedent, he’s pretty slow. Like, really slow. Even when he runs it’s like a snail tracking through peanut butter and molasses. And it’s too cute to watch. I really wish I could give him belly rubs tbh, he looks like the type that’d enjoy those, haha. These days he’s best friends with my Eiscue, Cubert. They usually race each other after they have lunch.

And finally, one of my greatest MVP’s: Cubert

Cubert joined us very late in the game on Route 10. And while unfortunately he ended up taking Ripper’s place, I knew he’d be a good addition to the team. I’ve given him Hail and Aurora Veil, which is super useful for battle prep. It’s pretty lucky I was able to find this little guy waddlin’ around up there on my way to Wyndon.

As I said before, he was pretty anti-social with everybody at first. Though I’m sure that’s because he was so new by the time we got to the League. Thankfully, Conker got him out of his shell and they’re best friends. He still seems a little shy around the others, and even myself, but I’m just glad he’s got somebody to talk to. Not much to say about him unfortunately, since he’s so reserved and tends to keep to himself, but I’m sure that’ll change eventually with time.

Now that’s everyone that’s on my current team, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my boy Ripper at all, so, allow me to introduce an old friend who’s been livin’ in retirement for the past few days:

I first picked up Ripper at a Nursery while I was omw over to Hulburry, I believe. So Ripper was with us for a damn long time until I picked up Cubert. Initially I had hoped he’d be a High Key Toxtricity, but I’ll take what I get. Besides, he was more than helpful with quite a lot of battles, especially Opal’s gym.

He was pretty loud as a Toxel, which should come as no surprise. Always throwing tantrums and never really seemed to eat anything bigger than a small portion of whatever curry I cooked, so he was picky just like Chariot was. All around a bastard baby, really. He didn’t really start getting onto the battle field until he evolved, in all honesty.

But once he did, hoo boy, he was killin’ the competition like a pro. I feel pretty bad I didn’t take him into the League with me, but I felt like Cubert would’ve been more useful so I swapped ‘im out. I’ve been pulling him back out of the PC box for some more training lately to help him catch up to make up for it, though. And he seems pretty happy about it, so bygones are bygones I suppose.

And it seems he’s still very much taken with Chariot. Sigh, young love, so adorable. Anyways, respects to the OG madhouse that got me through some toughies, you did good out there buddy. ;w;

Alright, well, that’s just about all I have to discuss, for now. I hope this wasn’t too droning of a post or anything. But before you head out, I’ve got a little surprise. Since this was such an interesting experience, I’m opening a new Tumblr based on my journey that will follow my Trainer OC Luna and her adventures through Galar. If you’re curious to check it out, click here. I don’t really have an upload schedule, so just keep your eye out for any posts in the future. Hope you guys enjoy it!

[foxydivaxx]

Goddess Awakening Chapter 5

"Feyi don't do it!" Sade warns. Feyi finally decided to let her family in on it because they and the Adebites have a dark history with each other. Both families used to be friends until a public spat between Chief Adebite and Chief Badmus drove both families apart. What that spat was about is anyone's guess.

"Feyi, Chris humiliated you at that party years ago!! He could humiliate you again!!" says Ireti. Feyi raises an eyebrow. "I doubt it." Dr Rotimi was watching a video o Youtube and then alerts them. "Ladies you need to see this." The rest of the family exchanged confused looks before gathering round to see the video.

Chris had just posted a video online, talking about the challenge."I have a huge announcement ladies and gents!! Drum roll!!" A dramatic drum roll plays and obce it stops, Chris says excitedly, "EbonyKnight has accepted my open challenge but this time it's different. We shall have the first ever Battle Royale match live on next week Wednesday at 1pm sharp at the Hard Rock Cafe. Be there or get squared!!"

Dr Rotimi sighed. "She has no choice but to do it. Even if she does not accept it, he would still go out there and pressure her into accepting via his Youtube channel. The guy has a lot of viewers."

"Yeah but he is doing this for cheap publicity. I doubt Feyi can even win." says Mrs Badmus.

"I have beaten him several times at that game mother..."

All eyes fall on Feyi who had a determined look on his face. "I can do it again." She then comes closer to her mother and stops in front of her, arms folded. Of all the Badmus sisters, she is the shortest and resembles her father due to her slightly dark complexion and broad shoulders.

Mrs Badmus looks her daughter in the eye. "Why bother yourself with games anyways? It is a waste of time. Why not bother to do something far more tangible with your time eh? Why not start a business or go and actually get a proper job?"

Feyi glares icily at her mother. "Really mother? Is that what you want to say?" Mrs Badmus stares at her daughter. "Are you talking to me?"

"Yes I am talking to you mother because I have had it with you!" The woman was taken aback by this. "How dare you speak to your mother that way?!" Ireti shouts. "I have every right to because this woman keeps on treating me like shit!! I have no job, you do not respect me!! You are looking down on me whenever I try to do something!! Why is it that you always criticise whatever I do?! Why mother?! I did not ask to be born with whatever it is that I am born with!! God just created me that way for a reason!! Why can you not accept me for who I am?! That is why I will do that challenge!! As for the results, I will win because I know I can!! I am not useless or worthless and I will prove myself to the world and you my family!!"

With that, she walks off, leaving her stunned mother behind. She then grabs her laptop and gets down to work and begins to work hard on improving her craft by using the Practice Tool and then playing a couple games and maintaining her current track record.

Meanwhile, Chris was in his penthouse suite chilling out with his friends. "So Ebony is Feyi?! No fucking way!!" says Idris Shettima. Chris nods. "It seems that the girl improved over the years." says Richard. "How are you not sure that her account did not get boosted?" asks Chris.

"If it were boosted, then she wouldn't have gotten to Gold IV on the American server." says Alex Oputa. Chris sighs and takes his seat, a glass of red wine in hand. Memories begin to flood in his mind of his days in secondary school.

He and Feyi were classmates and he and his friends at the time used to bully and torment her relentlessly. He even exposed Feyi at a party for cheating at WAEC, a scene that tarnished the Badmus family's image. He just liked hurting Feyi partly because she is a girl and partially because she is a Badmus.  He will never forgive her father for disgracing his own father years ago. Now he will get the ultimate revenge by destroying his archnemesis for good.

"Let's see how you survive this one Feyi."

Time begins to fly by and soon D-Day arrives. Feyi gets herself ready, wearing a simple T-Shirt with a nice ankara design on it and a pair of jeans and sneakers. The girl stares at herself in the mirror. Usually she hates looking at her reflection but today is completely different.  Sade walks into the room. "You ready kiddo?" Feyi nods and grabs her bag and walks out of the room.

The Badmus family soon arrive at Hard Rock Cafe and walk inside to find the location of the match. The last time Feyi came in there was a couple months ago with her cousins. The entire place was filled with a lot of people. "Wow!! So many people!!" says Sade. Mrs Badmus remains unfazed, not completely interested. If anything she wants to get out of there.

"Ah there you are!!"

They turn around to see Chris make his way towards them with a fake friendly smile in place. Feyi folds her arms and takes the opportunity to scrutinize him. "Aren't you a little overdressed for a showcase match?"

Chris simply shrugs. In stark contrast to Feyi's more laidback casual outfit, Chris opted for a black suit. "Hey!! A little glam is needed here!!" She rolled her eyes. "Oh please!!"

Chris does not look at Feyi's family in light of their past terrible encounter. Instead he opts to lead Feyi towards the place where they would do the showcase. In the middle of the room are two computer systems, arranged back to back.

Without hesitation, Feyi takes her seat at one and starts it up whilst Chris follows suit. Dolapo who happened to be around the area shows up alongside some of Feyi's old friends. "Good afternoon ma." Dolapo greets Mrs Badmus as he prostrates for her. "Ah Dolapo nice to see you. Ah you brought the whole gang here." says Ireti. The other kids all greeted the other Badmuses.

"The match is simple; the two players here will play with their best champ stats. The objective is to reduce the enemy's life bar to zero. The player that does that at the end wins the game." the special announcer for the match says.

"Kind of like a mini fighting game." Dolapo mutters. "What did you say?" Sade asked. "Just an observation about what they are about to do." he replies. Kai, one of Feyi's friends from America explains. "The game is divided into various modes; the main mode that many of us know is the Gold mode. That one is where you play as a team of five. This mode is the VS mode. There is the Battle mode also like the Gold mode. That one you play as five and that one is similar to VS mode. Everyone creates a character with a base stat and with a special talent and designation."

"So how come he did not says Battle Mode?" Mrs Badmus asks."Feyi would need a team. Chris has one." says Dolapo. "If she had told us beforehand, we could have changed it to Battle Mode and trained together. " says Kai. "We will have to call Tolani after this so that we can quickly assemble a team just in case." says Henry.

Both players put on their headphones and stare intently at their screens. Both of them had logged into their accounts and had choosen their characters. Chris' character, The Dark King had spikes on his black armour and a long red cape and held a sword.

"Wait....Chris' character is a fighter/assassin whilst Feyi's a mage and a support mage at that?" Dolapo observes. "She may not win this one." says Dr Rotimi. "She can. Since she is a support, she should be able to heal herself at some point." says Kai.

The Badmus family begin to say a silent prayer as they wait for the match to start. A countdown begins and once the clock reaches zero, the game starts. "LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!!"

[alphawave-writes]

Evil actions and good intentions chapter 12: Earthshine

Synopsis: The newly reformed Overwatch and its new recruits, Harold Winston and Sigma, 

Read it here on find it on AO3. You guys can find me on twitter or in my Sigma/Harold discord server. If you want to support me, buy me a ko-fi or commission a work from me

-

Harold never thought he’d be back here, but here he is, staring at the Xichang Satellite Launch Center again. It hasn’t changed all that much since the last time he saw it, back when he was to board Chang’e 50 to get back up to the moon. It gives him a strange sense of nostalgia as he watches this new, smaller spacecraft, aglow with a million lights, engineers and technicians preparing it for its flight. News crews are all here with their cameras pointing at the spacecraft, waiting on bated breath for the moment it launches up into the sky and disappears from sight. Everywhere Harold looks, everybody is talking about it. The world’s first lunar rescue mission. A race against time. A historic moment in the making.

And he has to go up there and literally steal the spacecraft for himself, the very man they think is trapped on the moon.

As people watch Hou Yi 1 get prepared, Harold sneaks in through the engineer side. He taps at his temple, briefly getting an x-ray glimpse at everybody else’s position. Genji and Symmetra are making their preparations at the side of the building while Tracer and Lucio are in the crowd, hiding in plain sight. Brigitte and Reinhardt and Lucio are waiting on the airship with Winston, ready to help in the charge if needed. That just leaves him and Siebren to find a way onto the spacecraft.

Harold tugs uncomfortably at the cap on his head. “I hate hats,” he grumbles.

“I know you don’t like hats, but you have to keep it together. We cannot afford to blow our cover now.”

For the purposes of infiltration, Siebren and Harold had to get disguises. For Harold, all it took was a change in his hairstyle, but for Siebren they had to go one step further. Apparently, Mei had a lot of fun putting make-up on Siebren, hiding his wrinkles and making him look younger. A cheap wig was considered, but it was ultimately decided that he looked less like himself with his bald head. Siebren, of course, had no idea how to respond to such a comment.

“Sigma, are you there?” Harold hears Winston’s voice crackle from his ear piece.

“Sigma, present and in position.”

“Good. Charon?”

Harold can’t help but smile a little. The codename is probably unnecessary, but he has to admit, he can see why Siebren’s so attached to his own. It’s another life to breathe beneath his skin. Another little mask to hide behind. “Charon here, with Sigma,” he said.

“Everybody is in position,” Winston says.” If all goes absolutely well, you might be able to get into the spacecraft without any trouble, but the chances of that are unlikely at best. Most likely, you will have to fight some guards off. We still don’t know what Talon has in store.”

“Talon has resources, but even they have difficulty in acquiring resources when it comes to space travel,” Siebren says. “I only rescued Har—Charon on their behalf because they managed to scrounge up the necessary parts for an abandoned spacecraft and secure a private air yard, and apparently that took well over a year’s worth of effort. I very much doubt they have the resources to get up to the moon by themselves. They need this mission to go smoothly.”

Winston hums in thought. “Symmetra, do you think Lucheng might have connections to Vishkar or Talon?”

“I cannot speak for Talon, but I can assure you that we have petitioned to collaborate with Lucheng Interstellar on numerous occasions, and each time we have been turned down. They have been unwilling to see the true potential of hard light in space colonization.”

“So the answer is no,” Winston says.

Satya lets out a quiet sigh before saying, “Correct. There are currently no ties between Lucheng and Vishkar. None that I am aware of.”

“Ladies and Gents, the show is starting,” Tracer announces. “Everybody ready? We gotta time this distraction perfectly, and then the show is on!”

All around him, men and women and omnics in identical uniforms do their final checks on Hou Yi 1. Each person is designated one specific thing on the spacecraft to double-check. Nobody seemed to glance twice at Harold or Siebren, to his relief. Disguising themselves as Vishkar guards was definitely a stroke of genius on his part, even if he has to force himself to wear a hat throughout the ordeal.

Harold’s eyes catch on the walkway above him, where the astronauts will enter. Through the ear pieces, Harold can hear a smattering of polite clapping. In the reflection of the glass, he can see Lucheng Interstellar’s presentation for himself, projecting through the news cameras. Within seconds he sees a projected portrait of his younger self. The CEO was speaking now, making some grand speech. Unlike last time, neither Moira nor Sanjay Korpal could be seen behind him. Instead, it was the small crew of astronauts chosen to pilot the space craft.

His eyesight still wasn’t that good even with the nanobots partially correcting his vision, but he could vaguely make out the astronauts’ faces. They were all young, wide-eyed Chinese men and women who looked like they’d rather be anywhere but at the press conference. It wasn’t too different from his own first mission up to the moon, nervous as hell, just waiting for everything to hurry up.

By Harold’s side, Siebren frowns deeply.

“What’s wrong?” Harold asks.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” he murmured. “Something is wrong.”

Harold is about to open his mouth to ask how, but then he heard a terrifying sound. It isthe noise of the universe, the gaping maw before the black hole threatening to swallow the world whole, the calm piano arpeggios before the storm. He stares at Siebren wide-eyed, lips tight in morbid understanding.

And then he hears the screams.

Behind him, he sees the omnic workers jolt and jitter, their eyes shining red in warning. They grab the workers and beat them up or throw them away. Siebren begins to float up, toeing away his shoes, hyperspheres forming in his hands before he flings them at the nearest omnic. Almost immediately, the omnics all turn not to Siebren but to Harold himself, red lights sparkling with resolution.

“Jade Hare…” they say in unison.

Harold takes the jet injector out from its hiding place, switches it on, and pulls the trigger. Bolts of lightning flash and flicker, zapping at all the omnics who dare come close, making them fall down one by one. With a grunt, Harold tosses his hat away and runs away before the cameras can pick up his face.

“Change of plans,” Harold calls into the communicator. “Omnics are on us. We have to break for the ship now.”

“We’re on our way,” Winston cries. “Everyone, they’re on the attack. Change to plan B: we have to hijack the spacecraft.”

“I should be able to hack into the computer systems from here, but I’ll need help,” Symmetra says.

“I will watch her back,” Genji says.

“People haven’t noticed yet, but the omnics are acting real fishy. Me and Lucio’ll cause a distraction, Tracer style,” Tracer says.

Harold almost doesn’t see the omnic rushing straight at him, but it explodes before his eyes with a well-placed volley by Siebren. His lips curl into a frown. “Pay attention,” Siebren says.

“I will, don’t worry,” Harold says.

As he runs, he shrugs the Vishkar uniform off to reveal the Overwatch uniform underneath. With a grunt, Harold connected the jet injector to his backpack, sighing when he felt the nanobots begin to activate, flowing out of his veins, into the backpack and filling the vial of the jet injector. Siebren shrugged his own uniform out, the heavier plates of his armour floating over his shoulders.

There’s a smaller contingent of omnic guards in front of them. They outnumber them, but Siebren summons a barrier in front of them to block the bullets. Harold runs forward, letting the lightning rip through their systems while Siebren launches volleys of hyperspheres as cover fire. When a bullet grazes Siebren’s armour and draws blood, Harold switches the mode of the jet injector and points the trigger at Siebren, a stream of nanobots healing Siebren’s wound in an instant.

When the final omnic guard falls to its knees, Harold’s earpiece crackles again. “We’re on-route to your position,” Winston cries.

“The press sure is loving us,” Tracer cries. The sounds of gunfire and more screams can faintly be heard. Some up-tempo nu-techno song is playing faintly in the background.

“The spotlight loves us as well,” Lucio laughs.

“Where do we go, champ?” Harold asks Winston.

“You’ll have to go to the main hall and backstage. The stairs up to the spacecraft is there.” The comms crackles off.

“Let’s hope this distraction goes as planned,” Siebren grumbles to himself. “This mission is ruined if people realise who you are.”

“They won’t,” Harold says as his eyes begin to glow gold. “I’m not the man I used to be.”

“No,” Siebren laughs. “You’ve got just the right amount of him.”

They enter the building and go through the winding hallways of the staff areas. It’s fortunately empty, apart from the few fleeing staff members, but they are too busy escaping to give them any heed. When they get to the end, Siebren uses his powers to shove the doors open. Harold stops in his tracks at the sight before him. Everybody has already fled, leaving only Tracer, Lucio, and their attackers. Reaper and Moira are here with an army of omnics supporting them, launching their own offensive. The giant screen that used to show Harold’s younger face now displays a very familiar sugar skull icon.

It’s a nightmare come true. Talon is here.

Tracer and Lucio are fast, trying their hardest to fight, but no matter how many hits they can dish out, it all gets healed up in an instance by Moira’s biotic orb or by Reaper’s abnormal healing. But Reaper and Moira are too slow in trying to fight them. It’s literally a battle of speed versus attrition.

“We have to help them,” Harold says.

“We can’t. We don’t have much time.”

Above their heads is a few smaller screens, each connected to a different news channel. On the corner of each of the screens is a countdown for the spacecraft’s imminent launch. One by one, the countdown decreases dramatically from one hour to ten minutes. On screen, the astronauts are hurriedly putting on their spacesuits, making their hasty final checks.

In front of him, Tracer and Lucio are slowing down, losing their speed. Reaper and Moira also look tired, but not nearly tired enough. Moira’s blackened hand reaches out for Lucio, sapping the life away from him. They’re distracted. He can slip past, get to the spacecraft, and finish the mission. This will all be for nothing if Harold doesn’t get on the spacecraft. But he also wants to help them. He sees Siebren’s jaw clench, the same thought going through his head.

“I’ll see you in hell,” Reaper growls, pointing a shotgun square at Lucio’s face.

The blast goes off but Lucio is still standing and alive. Siebren is in front of him, absorbing the energy round and dispersing them into dust. Harold quickly moves to join him, a small stream of nanobots healing Lucio before he flicks the gun back to attack mode as Tracer escorts Lucio out. In the corner of his eye he sees Siebren give a fleeting little smile before staring down his new foes. Harold does his best not to smile too wide.

“You two have been a real pain on my backside,” Reaper growls.

“Dr. Winston,” Moira sneers. “I shouldn’t be surprised you have picked an organization such as Overwatch to protect you, but I am surprised with you, Sigma. I thought you were more intelligent than that.”

“The purpose of my work was always to build a better future,” Siebren declares. “Giving myself up to this cause is not injudicious.”

“And you think you did not have a purpose with Talon? We saw who you really are, that is why we set you free. We’ve cultivated your mind, your abilities. Overwatch has undermined brilliance in the past, and they will do it again. It’s a place of stagnation, where great minds go to die. Do you honestly think a change of leaders will not bring up the same issues?”

Siebren doesn’t speak, the hyperspheres flickering slightly, growing darker. His lips dip for just a second.

“You don’t belong with them. You belong in a different environment, where you can grow without restriction, where no one can judge you for the way that you think.” She glances coldly at Harold. “Where you are not led astray by those who don’t know what your best interests truly are.”

Harold can hear the hitch in Siebren’s throat, quiet but unmistakable. He feels those ocean blue eyes upon his body, breaking down his body molecule by molecule, trying to find the nonexistent needle in the haystack. He doesn’t dare turn his head and give Siebren the benefit of the doubt. He can’t hesitate now. All he can do is keep his weapon trained on Reaper and Moira.

“Dr. Winston doesn’t speak because he knows it’s the truth,” Moira continues. “He’s using you. You just don’t realise it.”

“And you didn’t use me?” Siebren spits.

“Perhaps, but we never mislead you. We’ve always wanted to help you develop your research and your abilities.” Moira turns to Harold. “Can you say the same, Dr. Winston?”

“All you care about is what he can do, not the person himself. You don’t care about his well-being. You don’t care about how he feels about this violence.”

“You’re not answering the question,” Moira smirks. “Might as well be an admission of your guilt.”

“And let you twist my words even more?” Harold asks.

Harold turns his head just a bit only to find Siebren stare blankly in front of him. He’s glancing between Moira and Harold, eyes wide, a myriad of emotions flickering and scintillating. Then, they narrow, and those ocean blue eyes turn cold as ice. With a wave of his hand, he lowers the barrier and floats forward.

“Siebren?”

He does not react as he joins Reaper and Moira’s side, his head ducked in submission. Moira’s smile is wide, a curious mix between glee and cruelty. Siebren only spares a single knowing glance in Harold’s direction. Harold’s eyes widen.

“Perhaps we should restart your mental conditioning. For now, I’ll let you decide if you want to fight or not.”

“I think I will fight,” Siebren utters, his expression growing cruel, “but not for you!”

Siebren raises his hand and breaks the shackles of gravity, taking him and Reaper and Moira high in the air. He’s floating above them, the universe’s song playing for deaf ears, the back of his head glowing as he summons the hyperspheres into fruition. One hits Reaper in the side while the other barely misses Moira. Siebren grits his teeth as he slams their bodies down, but they both turn into mist just before they land. Siebren floats down to the ground beside Harold, summoning the barrier once again as a volley of shotgun pellets flies.

Moira tries to go forward, but electricity crackles from Harold’s jet injector, making her keep her distance. Reaper rushes forward, looking for an angle, but Siebren flickers the barrier in and out, tilting gravity to keep them away.

From the main entrance Harold hears the heavy thud of Reinhardt’s armoured footsteps approaching. Reaper turns to Moira, his voice tinged with annoyance. “We can’t stay.”

“Very well,” Moira huffs, and the two of them disappear in a cloud of smoke. Siebren tries to chase after them, but it’s far too late. They are gone without a trace. There’s no way they can catch them now.

Harold glances up at the countdown. Five minutes left. “We have to get to the spacecraft quick!”

Siebren grumbles to himself but nods sharply. He has stopped floating now, bare feet running on the floor as they head backstage and up the staircase. When they get to the top floor, the elevator next to them chimes. Winston, Genji, and Symmetra are there, rushing out behind them. There’s a new wave of Horizon guards in front of them, but together they cut them down to size easily.

“What’s the situation?” Harold asks.

“Reinhardt and Brigitte are at the front, distracting everybody,” Winston says. “Echo tried to hack into the spacecraft but she couldn’t. Athena tried as well and failed. We’ll have to launch it manually.”

“You know that’s impossible for Gen IV Lunar spacecrafts. I can’t fly it with Siebren alone.”

“That’s why I am coming along,” Winston says. “We’ll need all hands on deck.”

“You will require my assistance as well,” Symmetra adds. “I will not allow any more chaos or disruptions to this plan.”

“I’ll make sure no one gets into the spacecraft,” Genji says.

“But we need to get into the spacecraft ourselves and make sure they don’t activate the emergency kill switch from the control tower,” Harold says.

“Then we’ll just have to make sure we’re quick enough that they can’t activate it,” Siebren says.

They run through the hallway and into a giant room lined with glass windows. The astronauts are there, waving to the cameras but they stop in their tracks when they see them. They shout their orders in Mandarin, but Siebren curls his fingers and suspends them in the air like they’re ragdolls. They can’t do anything but speak, a litany of foul words escaping their mouths. “Bàoqiàn,” Harold smiles nervously as he rushes forward.

From the room he walks down the small runway to the spacecraft. In front of him he can see the interior of the spacecraft, which should lead up to the payload, where he can pilot with Siebren. For a moment, time is in slow motion as the lights of a thousand cameras flash onto him. As he turns his head to the glass walls, he sees his reflection staring back at him. Except it’s not really his reflection. There’s a trace of the man the public know as Harold Winston, but it’s overshadowed by someone else. A man he knows has been residing in his bones for decades. It is this man that is control, this hero that lives and breathes strength. The real Harold Winston.

He heads inside and makes his way to the payload area, getting into the front seat. The buttons and dials and switches are second nature to him, his hands moving fluidly as he gets everything prepared.

Outside he hears the sounds of a fight erupting, of bullets and blades dancing in a deadly ballet. Winston comes in soon, then Symmetra, taking their positions near the rear. Faintly, Harold hears Reinhardt’s sharp laugh of joy, and the unmistakable sound of a mace hitting a metal body.

“Where’s Sigma?” Winston asks.

Harold’s about to ask the same question when suddenly the controls all turn red. “Get him in here now! They’re already starting the emergency kill switch.”

“The guards have him trapped!” Symmetra calls. “We have to go now.”

“I literally can’t survive the trip without him. The G-force will kill me! We need him here!” Harold taps at his communicator. “Sig, you need to get yourself over here.”

“I’m…trying!” There’s a loud huff, as Siebren scrambles in, shutting the door behind him. There are rhythmic thumps as people try to hit and shoot at the door, but it remains stable. He quickly flies over to the seat next to Harold, strapping himself in. His fingers dance over the dashboard, his expression stoic in thought. “Engine temperatures?”

“We don’t have time,” Harold says. “We have to launch now before the emergency kill switch grounds us for good.”

Siebren begins to go through the motions, but is repeatedly stopped by a klaxon alarm. “It’s too late,” Siebren grumbles. “There’s nothing here that can stop it. We’ve failed.”

Just as Siebren says this, the red screen suddenly flickers in and out. In its place, a purple sugar skull appears. From Harold’s communicator, Harold hears a nasally, abrasive laugh. From the way Siebren jumps in his seat, it seems he’s the only one who can hear it.

“Ground Control to Major Tom. You really made the grade here.”

“Sombra?” Harold gasps.

“What? You thought I wouldn’t help you out? Shame, Dr. Winston, shame. Hey, can I call you Harold? Harry? I like the ring of Harry.”

The sugar skull symbol fades and the controls are back to normal. The roar of the engines is almost deafening. A computerized voice is counting down from twenty. Amidst the noise Harold laughs shrilly in relief.

“I’ll let you call me whatever you want if you can get us to the moon and back. I assume you want a favour after this?”

“Perhaps,” Sombra says, in a voice that made it very clear what her true intentions are, “but way later. You wanna pay me back now? Get back down alive and take some photos for me. Oh, and keep Sigma alive too.”

Harold turns to Siebren and smirks confidently. From his vantage point he can see everybody watches the spacecraft in morbid fascination. The countdown is ticking down. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

“Ready to head back to the stars?” Siebren asks.

Five. Four. Three.

“You know what?” Harold says.

Two. One.

“I think I finally am.”

The spacecraft rattles and bobs. The engine gushes as it propels them upwards towards the sky. As they break through the atmosphere, the gravity engines kick in, the outer shell breaking away. As they get higher, the G-force gets almost overwhelming for Harold but he sees the plate behind Siebren’s head glow as he keeps the gravitational forces at bay. But even with Siebren’s help, it’s still a bit too much for his fragile body. He gets a glimpse of the Earth, wide and blue and glorious, and is able to give a weak smile before he falls unconscious.

When Harold finally wakes up, the spacecraft is already docking itself in Sector 06, right next to the Observatory. By his side, everybody else are preparing for their departure. He’s groggy, but it quickly fades away when he sees the Earth, once so near, now far away. Winston approaches him, nervous but trying his best not to appear it.

“We’re here,” he says.

Harold lets out a small smile as he grasps him tenderly on the shoulder. “No,” Harold replies. “We’re back home.”

They go through the standard decontamination process—Harold first, followed by Siebren, Symmetra, and finally Winston, who took the time to explain the process to her. The rooms are fortunately still sealed properly, as intel suggested. The number pad for many of the doors are malfunctioning and damaged, but the one to the Observatory still works. Harold places his hand on the scanner, and it opens with an audible swish.

Harold can’t help but gasp as he takes in the sight. It’s almost pristine, like it hasn’t changed at all. The Observatory doors are slightly open, the telescope facing directly at the Earth. While Winston shows Symmetra the telescope, Harold moves further ahead. Far on the other side, Harold’s office sits untouched, fake plants still green as ever, files in the same place he left them all these years ago. He walks over to his desk, his fingers catching on the framed photograph of himself and a baby Winston. His thumb trails over his younger face. He looked so innocent and naïve back then.

“I can’t even recognize myself,” he whispers.

“Harold?” Siebren asks.

He shakes his head lightly and places the photograph down. “Sorry. It’s just…it’s a lot. Being back here.”

“In a good way, or a bad way?”

“In a lot of different ways,” Harold utters. “This place was my home away from home, the stepping stone paving the way for the future of space travel. It’s tragic, seeing it all in ruins like this.”

“You are not the only one. I always thought this place was beautiful, and it still is, but it’s now so cold and empty. A husk of its former self.”

It’s more than that, Harold thinks, but if he says that out loud, Siebren will expect clarification, and Harold doesn’t think he can give Siebren clarification. He takes his old files and tucks them under his arm. The four of them meet up and they head out of the Observatory.

As they walk through the empty hallways, Harold can hear the faint noises of the apes and chimps, muttering behind closed doors. Outside the Observatory, he sees the extent of the rebellion’s destruction. Appliances in the Commissary are broken and rifled through, the peanut butter jars empty and smashed onto the ground. Furniture blocks many of the doors to the other sectors, while most of the personal rooms for the scientists have had their number pads smashed beyond repair.

He doesn’t know how to feel about seeing all this. He thought he was prepared, but it’s another thing altogether to see the gorilla paw prints on the door to Hammond’s room, schematics lying haphazardly on the floor. If he was any weaker than he was, he might cry, but he’s got a mission to complete and loved ones to support him. His hand reaches for Winston’s, squeezing softly.

“Where do we need to go?” Symmetra asks.

“The Hangar,” Harold says. “We need to shut down all the data and monitoring systems, so we need to get to the servers. From the Hangar, we can get there easily enough.”

“A little bit too late for that,” a voice says.

In the Training Facility, smiling cruelly, is a man that looks almost identical to Harold himself, but with some differences. Their clothes are the typical Horizon uniform with a lab coat on top, the sleeves rolled above their elbows—a complete contrast to Harold’s own Overwatch uniform. Their hair is in a similar haircut but slightly darker, giving a salt and pepper look. A rectangular pair of glasses framed the imposter’s face, no cybernetic implants or scars or tubes to wreak havoc over his skin. Even the eye colour was wrong, a dark blue rather than Harold's dark brown eyes. It’s like someone has used an age filter on a younger picture of Harold. This imposter is too clean, too perfect, but it's not an omnic or a robot. Only a human could ever smile like that, condescending and innocent all at the same time.

Harold doesn’t even hesitate raising his jet injector at the imposter, who immediately throws their hands up. He’s confused as to their weird actions, until he sees it. A camera, hidden in the corner of the room, red light blinking on and recording.

No, not just recording. Broadcasting. Thousands, if not millions, are probably watching this right now.

“Who are you?” Harold seethes.

The imposter smiles. “I’m Dr. Harold Winston,” he says, “and I believe you have been trying to steal my work, you imposter.”

Wide eyes fall on Harold's body but he ignores them all. He stares at his mirror image, an unspeakable rage clamming his throat shut, golden eyes staring down fake blue eyes.

[babysackville]

Thursday 4th November 1824

8 20/60

2 ¾

Breakfast at 9 35/60 - read from page 16 to 25 vol. 1 Caroline de Litchfield – at 10 40/60 went to call on Miss Harvey – Sat with her 1 ½ hour – find her pleasant enough – well inclined to make herself so – but there is not that blaze of talent about I had been ½ taught to expect – she rented a pension in the Champs Elysees kept by a Scotch lady a Miss Glen or Flynn but indeed she would not allow it to be called a pension – she only received her friends Mrs Heath said there were people of first rate Scotch family there and very rich – the charge £60 a year – on leaving Miss Harvey at 12 10/60 went down to Mrs Barlow – brought her up here and she sat with me till 1 when Madame Galvani came and staid till 2 ¼ - Shewed the translation from Italian into French I had ready for Monday and spent the rest of the time in conversation – without leaving it at all possible to discover that Mrs de Boyve had mentioned I her as a friend of Madame Galvani’s named the duchess de Raguse as lightly spoken of – that is if I came to France again and wished to be in society I must not be introduced to the duchess – Mme Galvani defended her very ably – said those only abuse her who envied her or could not gain admittance to her society – she had trois milles livres de reutes par an [thirty thousand livre a year] and is therefore surrounded with flatterers – when her brother M Perigold was about to marry she would have given up her mistress Mme d’Almagne wife of the celebrated general who was obliged to go to America when the Bourbons came, the duchess took her to Italy with her and settled on her a person of 6000 livres a year – that very woman abuses the duchess who having heard of it, sorrowfully expressed her fears to Mme Galvani that Mme d’Almague should she learn that she knew it, because then she (Mme d’al Almague) would not take the pension – the duchess is 46, one year older than Mme Galvani, is little and broad as long, but had a very beautiful face – she is parted from her husband because he was the 1st to betray Napoleon and she said she would not live with a man who had betrayed his benefactor to which he owed everything – but she allows him 60,000 francs a year – 

Expressed much sorrow for my not having called to inquire after Mme Galvani her being so ill here on Saturday – she had been confined to her bed almost ever since – has had an abscess on the inside of her cheek – had much fever on Sunday – was almost delirious with fever and was so on Sunday – tacitly hinting at herself spoke of all the Italians having amants [lovers] on the subject of the Italian Ladies having cicisbei [male lovers] said the French might be as bad but they always kept up appearances – No! said Mme Galvani not in the highest ranks – that Italians have only one at a time and that for love and the connection frequently lasts 15 or 18 years – the French have several all at once and they always calculate what presents they shall have &c &c. the old women keep the young men and the young men keep the young women – often make these presents with the very money they have received from the old women – but a Frenchman often boasts of favour he had never received – 

A gent having a wish to see Mme Galvani met another gent in a party to where he happened to mention this – the gent hummed and ah-ed and looked significant and at last said he was an amant [lover] of Mme Galvani, sometime afterwards the former gent having been introduced to Mme Galvani met him in a party and after conversing with her a while the other gent came up and asked her who it was he had been talking – the gent expressed his surprise that her amant [lover] should not know her and told Mme Galvani the story who thus learnt how she had thus been accused and justified by the very same person – I thought of Mrs de Boyve’s story against Mrs Barlow and that M de Nappes friend might have accused her with equal falsity – Went down to Mrs Barlow at 2 ¼ and she brought her work and sat with me still 4 40/60 when we both washed our hands &c and sat down to dinner at 5 – Mme de Boyve dined out all the party going to the play but Mme Carbonnier and Mrs Barlow and I and M and Young de Boyve only sat cosily till 9 35/60 then came up to bed – Mrs Barlow soon followed and came to me at 9 50/60 and sat with me till 11 35/60 –

Behaved very properly all the day tho evidently making distant love kissed her gently several times particularly saying she now behaved kindly and well and I was satisfied and would never make a bad use of it. She was cutting some cambric handkerchiefs made a mistake or two said it was all talking to me and was evidently a little distrait in my favour, I owned particularly tonight how comfortable I was to have her working by me it was not happiness but it was the highest degree of comfort and my folly tho now gone off had left a something behind which made my relish for her society more piquant. She understands me well enough she knows I am making love and does not look as if it was impossible she should return it at last. I said she was right and not in saying I should not love long what I did not respect right in the first instance but we were at issue on the point that if my love was returned I should not respect the person, why should I not if she deserved to be respected for every other thing. Surely loving me could not sink her in my esteem why should she not love me, was I not one who might hope to gain attachment and retain it when gained, and in loving me there must be a great deal of mind, hinting that I had not the power to inspire any love which did not chiefly depend on mind. She looked as if not dissenting for displeased but said I there are whom I know I could both respect and love they are not at the worlds end but it matters not to give them a local habitat it on and a name yet to know only one mine where it is necessary to know two is nothing.

She often looks at my gold rings and just presses them on my finger, she had done tonight said I, I know you often think of those rings perhaps you attach too much importance to them and I too little. She asked if I had described the friend who gave them, I somehow said no, ah said she is your dearest friend you told me it was Mrs Lawton, you told me wrong then. To this I made no answer but returning to the position there are whom I know I could both respect and love yet to know only one mind where there are two is nothing, said she directly, you ought to know your own mind before you ask that of others you do not understand these things.  I was silent a moment then said it was possible to unsay in a moment what it had required hours to say, and was going to ask whether she meant that if I was in the same mind three years hence or if my own mind was really made up now could she change hers, but she jumped up must go and went away. I often talk of seeing her two or three years hence when I am to write and she will give me a bed if she can. Whenever I tell her she will be married she always ssays no no she shall not.  I told her tonight I thought she sometimes liked me, she did not deny it speaking of my picture of happiness said I would not let my ‘friend’ get into bed much before or after me, I should [dislike] to find or be found asleep, she smile[d]. I said happiness like all other things required some tact, I though I knew it a little and that I could make the person I loved happy, she said she thought I could - surely she likes me. What would Pi [Marian] say. She has not written to me for too long – curled my hair – 

After Mrs Barlow left me at 11 35/60 then mused a little over the fire – then 20 minutes eating grapes then wrote all but the 1st 1st line of this journal of today which took me till 2 ¼ - Rainy morning – rain for a little while about noon – then rained again almost all the rest of the day – the wind put high now at 2 ¼ at which hour Fahrenheit 60 E… O..  I always feel a little excited with Mrs Barlow

(Diary references: SHMLE80070 & SHMLE80071)

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

Brian having chronic pain but hiding it from the others the best he can for a couple of years because he thinks that they'll see him as weak or maybe a nuisance and won't want him in the band anymore. Their touring lifestyle makes the pain even worse though and after some time, Brian becomes unable to hide it any longer.

He gasped, body shaking, fingers stalling on the neck board of Red Special.

Freddie really did stretch the truth a lot. Never Miss a Chord May. Yeah right.

Brian shook his head, trying to ignore the blunder and continue on with the song, ignoring the violent shocks of pain running up from his foot into inner thigh. He had a concert to preform and nerve pain was not going to distract him.

Maybe a little.

He took a wobbling step backward from his mic to let out a groan, teeth gritting as another jolt zapped him. And then zapped him again. And again. Until his whole leg just felt like an electricity line fell into a raging inferno. 

He couldn’t even think anymore, hoping muscle memory would carry him until the curtain close. Brian wasn’t even singing back up vocals anymore which only left a hoarse Roger and a quiet John to support Freddie. And they did notice, shooting him weird looks and glares.

He could not care less. All he needed to do was keep his shaking fingers moving and strumming and then he’d fuck off to lay in his hotel room and cry. They would have to deal with one less harmony. 

No, no, that was mean. Even as his mind was thrown into a pain induced frenzy, he couldn’t blame them. They didn’t even know he had neuropathy. 

Brian fancied himself like a cat, hiding his pain by acting as if everything was fine. He had no idea why he refused to disclose to diagnosis with the other 3 when he first got it. Perhaps he was scared of being seen as weak or needy. Scared they’d start treating him different. Maybe he was just scared to let them into a completely different world where your nerves attacked you rather than protected you. 

It didn’t matter. It was far too late for confessions now, as years had passed. His suffering in silence was a more a byproduct of his cowardice from years past than a reluctance to tell them. And Brian dealt with it like a champ.

Smiling when his legs and arms were blazing with hurt. Walking around as if every step didn’t feel like knives. Joking when all he wanted to do was stay in bed and sob.

It wasn’t going to change tonight. It wasn’t. It wasn’t.

Brian shook his head, sweat flying everywhere. Flares up always made him sweat like a pig, camouflaging pain being as strenuous as a sprint. Luckily he had the whole playing a concert thing to make it seem like it was just the stages lights making him melt. 

He chewed on his lip, steeling himself and his mind, trying to focus on the frets as a new pain snaked itself down his shoulder and into his arm.

No, no no. Not now. We’re almost done. Almost done. 20 more minutes and then you can go numb. Not now. Please!

Brian’s internal begging rang on deaf ears as his hand and then fingers slowly began to get that static-y feel. Pins and needles slowed his movements until that familiar pain spread.

And like that, he couldn’t play a single note. In front of a sold out crowd.

Brian panicked, wide glassy eyes going from Freddie to Roger to John. This wasn’t supposed to ever happen. What were they gonna do? What was he going to do?

With a large bellowing laugh, Freddie spoke into the microphone, John and Roger’s drumming and strumming suddenly coming to a halt.

“Ladies and gents, looks like Brian’s guitar has stopped working. Can’t trust electronics these days. We’ll have a short intermission, yeah? Don’t get naked without me,” Freddie said with a wink before all 4 rushed off stage. 

Freddie’s joking tone turned deadly once they were backstage. “What the hell happened out there, Brian? You’re not singing. You’re messing up every 6 seconds. Are you ill? You’re as grey as ash!” he said, inspecting the guitarist up and down, a little chuffed they had to pause a show so close to the end. 

“Yeah, mate, what was that? ‘R’Ya dyin’ on us?” Roger asked, knowing Brian wouldn’t fumble around and ruin a show just cuz he had a hangover or even the bloody flu. Brian has preformed with tissues shoved up his nose for gods sake.

John was quiet as usual, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He didn’t like the thought of Brian dying on them. 

And Brian was in the middle, mouth hanging open, but no idea what to say. He was overwhelmed. His whole body felt somehow numb but throbbing with pain. He let down his friends and his fans. He couldn’t think through the disappointment and electricity in his bones. So he just crouched down and cried.

Nobody knew what he was doing until he let out some sniffles. It was all over from there. Freddie’s Mother Hen mode was activated, throwing himself onto Brian, petting his hair, asking what was wrong, if they had done something to bother him. 

It didn’t really help so Roger had to pry the babbling Freddie off, helping a teary Brian to his feet and onto a chair. John padded over with a box of tissues which Brian gladly accepted, rubbing them all over his face to hide the fact that he had just broken down in front of them and the stage hands that were buzzing around. 

“What’s wrong, Brian? You know you can tell us. We won’t be mad at you. It’s okay,” Roger said, surprisingly soft, a hand on Brian’s shoulder. It hurt Brian, but he let him keep it there. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to ignoring pain. 

Brian had no idea where to start, so he just said what would answer everyone questions.

“I have neuropathy. Real bad,”

A quiet shock ran over the men, each nodding or blinking as they digested the news. It was only broken by Freddie, who was squinting hard. “What the hell is neuropathy?”

He didn’t know why but he laughed. Brian threw his head back, even as pain shot all over him like a circuit board and he laughed loud and hard. Something he hadn’t done genuinely in a long time. 

He did all this masking and hiding for naught. The revelation came to him suddenly as he chuckled. His friends would be his friends no matter what. And they’d stay themselves even when confronted with his disorder. And Freddie just demonstrated that to him, unafraid to be his usual clueless self. 

“I love you, Fred,” was all Brian could say in between the giggles and snorts, much to the three’s confusion. 

Eventually though, Brian was able to calm down and explain a few things. As expected, they were understanding and accommodating. 

Unfortunately though, Brian couldn’t finish the concert. His fingers kept twitching and curling as his neuropathy blasted on full force. 

No worries though, as Freddie had said it. After much comforting and promises to finish this talk, the band went back out on stage with a roadie who prided himself on knowing most Queen songs on his guitar. All while Brian hung back, wrapped up in a blanket on a couch and listened. It wasn’t fun, but stuff like this happened when you hid the truth from others. It wouldn’t happen again, though. 

“Sorry for the delay, lovies. Brian’s back stage getting a blow job and declined to join us. But we found a replacement! Doesn’t he look like one of us? Please do sing along and shake your asses as we finish this set. Pretend he’s Brian, okay?” Freddie said into the mic, the crowd screaming in response and Brian rolling his eyes with a laugh as he heard it all the way backstage. 

He wasn’t exactly thrilled but he was just happy to know this was the start of a change in the band and in himself. No more lying. No more hiding. Brian smiled with his limbs ablaze, intent on listening to the rest of the show.

[the-kings-tail-fin]

Fanfic about an interview with brush curber. :)

Being a Piston Cup celebrity isn’t easy while raising a small army.

Circa 2009.

There were those that had hoped for a failure. Others knew that whatever the show became, it’d be popular, no matter how polarizing Chick Hicks was as a character. That’s how talk shows worked - get the biggest personality imaginable, let them do their thing, and get paid.

Chick’s Picks with Chick Hicks was an excellent idea in theory. Even the layout of the show’s agenda was quality. It was just… Chick. Was he a good interviewer? If he were to interview himself, probably. Did he ask the important questions? Depends on who you ask.

“Welcome back, ladies and gents!” he exclaimed as the cameras began to roll after the commercial break. “Today’s guest star - Brush Curber! Not that you’ve ever heard of him but - hey! Dude’s a veteran, right? Up there with the rest of us.”

Brush didn’t bother to hide his dissatisfaction. He rolled out onto the set with a fake smile and boredom in his eyes. He didn’t want to be there, he didn’t like Chick, and he knew he wouldn’t like whatever Chick would want to talk about.

“Welcome to the show, man!” Chick greeted him. “What an honor for you!”

“Uh, sure, thanks,” Brush tilted himself away from the egomaniac. “Pleasure to be here.”

“Always a pleasure to be in the presence of a former (and forever!) Piston Cup champ, yeah?” Chick looked over at the camera more so than his company. “But let’s get right into it, alright?”

“Uh - “

“So! Story of the season thus far. Five races in and you’ve got a win already! What a start.”

“Uh, yeah, well, I suppose it’s normal for this time of the year. I’m pretty good at Phoenix. But it’s still early and we don’t know what the rest of the season will bring, so - “

“Normal? Mr. Consistency here - stats look like you’ve been a solid top ten contender for the last ten years or so, not that I noticed, but that’s a heck of an accomplishment! But to start out with a win? Let’s focus on that, can we?”

Brush blinked. Was this a talk show, or a just-Chick-talking show? He didn’t watch it, he’d admit freely. 

“Um, sure,” Brush continued, wishing their ten minute segment had less than the actual nine minutes remaining. “The win - last week, Phoenix. I will attribute that to the support of my team, my fans, and most importantly, my family. Everyone was there! We’re from Scottsdale, y’know. Easy to rally the gang.”

Chick chuckled a little. This was exactly where he wanted the conversation to go. He flipped a picture up on the screen behind them.

“You mean this gang?” he choked down a laugh.

Brush looked at the screen and smiled. It was the photo of him in Victory Lane - only you couldn’t see him through the confetti and small children climbing all over him.

“Yeah, that’s them!” Brush said with clear admiration. “All fourteen of ‘em and Kat. I don’t know what I’d do without her, honestly.”

“Probably drown in your own offspring,” Chick mumbled. He’d intended this to be a ‘fail’ photo - not something Brush actually liked.

Brush ignored him and kept going. 

“You know what’s funny? That was Truman’s first ever race - the little one there in the front, by Kat? He’d never been to a track before. And now this happens. I’m starting to think he’s my good luck charm. Maybe I should take him everywhere.”

“How are you not exhausted with this many hotrods running around the place?” Chick asked, surprisingly honestly curious.

Brush looked him dead in the eyes. 

“Oh, let me tell you, I operate on another plane of existence. I sold my soul to parenthood years ago. You think the post-race exhaustion is bad? You try having fourteen kids and see what happens.”

Chick mumbled and looked away, “Not today, Satan.”

[thatsthepan]

First Dates

Summary: The thought of the lads and their friends playing this game is too funny not to write about it.

Word Count: 2001

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (plz drink responsibly kids)

Read it on Ao3

Notes: This one won first place in the poll by a large margin, so here it is! It will also be my first fic since February, so I hope y’all like it. Asks and comments are always appreciated, and I have three more fics in progress if you’d like to request something to be in those as well:) Enjoy!

“A coming home party? You realize we’ve only been gone for less than a week, right?”

Phil shrugged, not seeming to see the significance. He kept tapping at his phone, the clicks of his keyboard nearly audible from the speed, but he was trying to hide a smile. “Oh well, explain that to everyone who’s throwing us a surprise party.”

“It’s not a surprise if-”

“Shhhh!”

So here I was, fancied up for a dinner party that I “had no idea about”. That was being thrown at our flat, Phil informed me on the lift ride back from our “date”. We’d gone window shopping.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You’ll love it.”

“It’s still ridiculous.”

We were still bickering when Phil unlocked the door, the lights turned off and everyone as silent as they could be. I imagined that Bryony had already started the rounds of shots, as she yelled “SURPRISE!” a beat before the rest. The best part was that they all somehow bought my shocked expression. Maybe I could make it as an actor.

The shots were good, I gave them--mostly PJ and Bryony, the self-proclaimed bartenders of the night--that much. We were all well and tipsy when Phil headed for the game shelf, which was for the best. We needed the nice, comforting weight of intoxication in order to play any of those games.

“Nooooo,” Bryony whined, leaning heavily on Wirrow’s shoulder. “Not the games! Not the games!”

“Yes the games!” Phil called back, scanning the shelf for the perfect torture device. “Anyone ever played First Dates?”

Only Phil and I had, so it was a must for the night. PJ declared the winners got to down the rest of the vodka and the losers got to clean up in the morning. We decided that was fair.

The rest was a blur.

Round 1

“Team namesss,” Bryony whispered loudly, barely letting Phil set the game up first.

“Ooooh, yes!” Sophie agreed, and thus commenced five straight minutes of three couples deciding on the perfect team names for a board game. Yes, we were all adults. Phil had created a monster.

“Best name starts out three points ahead.” I raised an eyebrow; PJ rolled his eyes.

“Sweet.” Bryony nodded in approval, twirling a piece of her hair smugly. “We’re Team Wirrony, obvs.”

We boo-ed them for unoriginality, but of course all eyes turned to Phil and I next.

“Phan?” Wirrow snickered, and I threw a crisp at him.

“Lesterine. Like the mouthwash.”

We earned that round of applause-Phil had wanted Dil Pickles, for Christ’s sake.

“And Pofie for us,” PJ took a shot, and the game commenced.

Bryony cleared her throat. “Right, so let’s start with the unassuming hosts of the evening-’who would taste better’?”

Some snickers, a few moments of contemplation, and we had our answers. It was 2-1 disagree, and…

“Ha! Agree on Dan, Wirrony gets the points.” Phil was smirking a little too flirtatiously, so I chimed in with, “It’s only because he’s a secret cannibal.”

“Kinky.” Wirrow nodded appreciatively. “So our turn next?”

We played a few rounds of “starter”, one of our questions being ‘who can down a pint the fastest’.

“Please,” Bryony rolled her eyes, writing her answer down already. “You’re all amateurs.”

“Put your money where your mouth is,” Phil snickered, writing his answer down as well. “Ever seen Dan drink when he’s sad?”

Everyone laughed at my expense, but no one believed him. We had all disagreed anyway, so the only obvious thing to do now was to crown a true winner.

Bryony poured us each a pint, starting a countdown. “Five, four, three, two, DRINK!”

I slammed my glass on the table in six seconds flat, making PJ nearly choke from laughter on his beer. Everyone else stared at me in awe, Phil, Sophie, and PJ not even finishing their drinks.

“What made you think-” I hiccupped. “-that you could ever swallow something faster than me?”

The room was in an uproar, and it was only just round two.

Round Two

“Champagne for midnight and the main course?” Bryony became more extravagant as she drank, and somehow made some very good, very bubbly pink champagne.

“Lesterine, you’re up!” PJ simply got more giggly as the night went on, which had an effect on Phil in that he kept trying to subtly tickle me.

“Who is more likely to be sporting a vajazzle or a pejazzle?”

We all snickered in thought, but eventually Phil whispered, “a what?”, except the whole table heard, and everyone was very colorful in their explanations. At least he got an answer, I supposed.

“So it’s all for agree?” I smirked. “On who?”

“You, duh, ya freak.” Wirrow rolled his eyes, but Phil and I shrugged, flipped our cards, and the table was outraged.

“Why Phil! He didn’t even know what it was!” Bryony actually sounded angry, but I knew she was just competitive. And just a tad bit drunk.

“Because he had that back jewelry thing. And I would never.” I pretended to be offended, but honestly it was more fun just getting them riled up. After all, I was a chaotic neutral.

We went through a few more--Phil and I racking up points and sexual tension alike--but Bryony and Wirrow were in close second. Out of the six of us, Bryony and I were the most competitive, and someone started up a bet on who would win. Sophie and Wirrow had their money on us, while Bryony and PJ decided on Bryony, with the assistance of Wirrow.

“Bitches,” Phil murmured, or tried to murmur. He didn’t seem to realize he was speaking in a completely normal tone. I made a mental note of it being kind of cute.

“Okay!” I announced, rubbing the card between my hands. “Second to last for the main course-who already has, or is more likely to get a terrible tattoo?”

Unbelievably, none of the couples agreed on an answer. We decided to split the points between everyone who had the most common answer, which was PJ.

“Where’s that logic!” PJ pretended to pout, but three out of six of us has chosen him for a reason.

“You’re very random and it just makes sense,” Wirrow rolled his eyes, gesturing at PJ’s everything. “It would be like an alien or something equally lame though.”

The final question was ‘who would win in a fight’. Every team but Pofie agreed on Bryony.

“Thank you!” she giggled, sticking her tongue out at PJ. “I may be tiny but I’ll kick your ass.”

“Who else would win?” I asked Sophie, who now seemed embarrassed to say. “We said Phil,” she rolled her eyes. “But to our defense, he is scrappy.”

“Scrappy?!”

Round Three

“Ladies and gents,” Bryony was swaying gently as she stood, having a lot of fun for someone who hadn’t wanted to play this game at all. “Team Us is beating the mouthwash lads, so place your final bets now.”

I threw ten pounds in for the hell of it, obviously on me and Phil. “We're soulmates, remember?” I winked, throwing an arm over Phil's shoulder. None of our friends had called us that in a good while, and everyone seemed a tad bit surprised at my declaration. I'd been poking fun at Bryony all night for being wasted, but I didn't handle alcohol well myself.

“Alrighty y'all,” PJ did a bad accent of sorts, pulling a card out of the deck with a flourish. “Who is more likely to be slightly aroused right now?”

I think we'd all sort of forgotten how to play the game, as by now we were just answering for all three teams. The odds of any of us agreeing were slim, however everyone somehow agreed on this one.

“Did everyone say me?!”

I received a round of hoots and laughs as a response, and Phil was doing his best not to laugh at my astonishment.

“Dan, hun,” Sophie tried to soften the blow, but couldn't hide the gleam of amusement in her eyes. “You're an open book when you're drunk.”

I stuck my tongue out, drawing the next card. “Whatever, y'all are cheating. Next questizzle-who would punch their mum in the head for 10,000 pounds?”

“What the fuck,” PJ snickered, writing quickly nonetheless. “That's sadistic.”

“Mm, but that's a lot of coint.”

The vote was almost unanimously Phil, the only answer differing was Phil's own. “I love my mum!” he protested, defeated.

“Maybe so,” Bryony sipped her drink, raising the glass to Phil. “But you are the legendary Captia£ester.”

We played a few more rounds, Sophie and PJ wracking up some points, but we were in the lead at the final question.

“All or nothing!”

“PHIL!”

Our cries of protest were in unison, but Phil was grinning broadly and informed us that it was not only tradition in this household, but it was his game and his rules.

“Bitch,” I whispered, pinching his leg.

“You love me,” he retorted, drawing the last card.

“Who's better at faking an orgasm?”

“Who's better at an orgasm? What?” PJ was thoroughly confused, and no one wanted to tell him the real question. It was all or nothing, after all.

“Snakes, all of you,” he shook his head as he wrote, throwing his pen at Phil when he was done.

“So the question was who's better at faking one-” PJ sloppily hurled a pillow at Phil, who dodged it. “-reveal your answers!”

It took us all a second to read the responses, and I knew our neighbors were going to file a noise complaint for all the yelling that was ensuing. Bryony threw the remaining cards in our direction, almost actually pissed. “How did y'all agree on ME?!”

I answered, “You get bored of everything!” right as Phil giggled, “The rest of us are too easy.”

We totalled the points, or, PJ did. I slowly started sliding the remaining vodka toward me, receiving a stink eye from Bryony.

“Yeah they won,” PJ shook his head, pushing the bottle toward me with his foot. I caught it as it started tipping over, raising it in a toast.

“I’d like to say thank you to PJ for suggesting these stakes, and Bryony for losing like a champ.” I deserved the facefull of cards I got for that one.

“You gonna share?” Phil had taken far fewer shots than I had, so I shrugged, handing him the bottle. “I’m tired, let’s go to bed. We can go get hangover breakfast in the morning.”

Everyone agreed. I downed the remaining inch in the bottle, pulling Phil by his tshirt into our back bedroom. I had been telling the truth about being tired, but also I’d been hearing Phil’s deep intoxicated voice all night and hadn’t kissed him since this morning. So, I had valid reasons.

We’d barely shut the door behind us before I started kissing him, and I guessed he’d been waiting too, as he turned us around and pushed me up against the wall next to my dresser. He knew I liked when he did that, and I tugged at his hair, because I knew he liked when I did that.

“Our friends think we’re gross,” Phil giggled breathlessly, hardly getting a word out between my mouth being on his. I didn’t answer, shushing him. “Don’t care”, I mumbled, and I didn’t.

Somewhere in that indeterminable amount of time, we ended up on the bed, our kisses slowing as we became sleepier. I had my head on Phil’s chest, slowly slipping into unconsciousness, when the thought crossed my mind that we were done. Done with the tour, done with traveling, done with expectations. We could play games and make videos as we wished, make our schedules whenever we wanted, go wherever we wanted. We were free.

But that was the most coherent thought I had before I fell asleep, thinking about what a mess we made and how loud we’d been and how warm Phil was. Drunken thoughts were sometimes true after all.

[polariswoo]

Halo 1 on pc

Of course, this somewhat soft series reboot isn’t the greatest game of all time, it’s merely a very good shooter. Halo 4 could've been the best game ever made, and it still would've been saddled with unreasonable expectations. Bungie had essentially become The Beatles of game development by the time it bade farewell to its landmark sci-fi shooter. Watching a studio take over a storied series from its creators is always difficult, but 343 Industries had it harder than almost everyone else. At least Marty O’Donnell’s music is phenomenal. The plot is smart to frame the first game’s events as a spark that ignites civil war within the Covenant, but the spectacle is constantly looking for a better game to go along with it. Halo 2’s online encounters had a seismic impact on the Xbox landscape, and the hugely influential mode nearly covers up a wobbling campaign filled with linear environments, grating shootouts, and cheap ‘gotcha!’ moments. Though it needed a day-one patch to really sing (yes, even back then), Halo 2’s multiplayer stands as a landmark in the history of Xbox Live, bringing Bungie’s unique combat into a sprawling suite of matchmaking features, customization, skill ranking, and just about every feature you’ve come to expect from online games today. You may look back and groan at all those lacklustre Arbiter missions in the campaign, yet there’s no denying Halo 2 has one of the most important online modes of all time. Halo 5 isn’t necessarily a bad video game, but it’s unquestionably a deeply compromised one. Even Warzone, a commendable, sprawling new online mode, feels outdated placed next to the ever evolving FPS treats of Destiny. Master Chief has to share the spotlight with new spartan protagonist Locke, Cortana is kinda the baddie but not really, while the game’s controls crib on Call of Duty (Halo finally gets iron sights) and Titanfall (note the boost dash) without ever fully convincing. Fight against one of the campaign’s dratted Wardens – a infuriating breed of mini boss who can only be hurt from behind as your allies distract them from the front – and you’ll know exactly what kind of tiresome grind Halo 5 is when ‘enjoyed’ on your own.ĭespite Microsoft throwing an insane budget at Xbox One’s first proper Halo, every part of Guardians feels confused. Make no mistake, Halo 5 was designed to be played with three online chums by your side. Here it is, ladies and gents: the first (and hopefully only) Halo campaign that’s simply no fun to play on your lonesome. Halo Wars 2 may continue to try and fill a gap in the market that probably doesn’t need plugged, but it still serves up a decent slice of strategy. The army-building antics of the new Blitz mode are also worthy of praise – recruiting enormous UNSC armies by building decks of cards is a really cute spin on the RTS formula. The story the Creative Assembly manages to spin is surprisingly decent too, and Blur Studio’s gorgeously rendered cinematics ooze big budget sleekness. New control groups make waging battles a more nuanced affair, and splitting your army into separate groups leads to multitasking alien murder on an epic scale. The original is one of the few games in the genre that feels comfortable played on a controller, and this sequel subtly evolves the control scheme, giving you a streamlined strategy title that never feels like it needs a mouse and keyboard – though the PC version does support them.

Do you really need another Halo real-time strategy game in your life? Probably not, right? Well, you’re getting one anyway, champ! In defence of Halo Wars 2, it continues to get one thing absolutely right: it’s an RTS that works really well on a pad.

[lilyvandersteen]

Puppy Eyes Chapter 1

Read the Prologue here.

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net.

Shout-out to my wonderful beta @hkvoyage: thank you for following me on this new and crazy adventure! I’m so grateful for your feedback and insights ♥

Chapter 1: A New Client

Though Kurt hadn’t gotten into NYADA, he was pretty pleased with his life right now. He’d scored an internship at Vogue, and he’d gotten into Parsons, where he was studying fashion design. He’d quit working at the Starlight Diner to become a dog walker, which paid a lot more, counted as exercise and could be combined perfectly with his studies.

The only downside was that his days started really early. He had to pick up his first doggy client at 5.30 a.m., and he’d never been a morning person. Still, he was used to Rachel’s early morning hours by now. Like clockwork, she woke him up at five with her vocal exercises . At first, he’d wanted to strangle her, but now her fanatic regime came in handy to get him up and running at such an early hour.

He’d discovered dog walking when Neil, his partner for a design project, had come down with the flu, and had moaned on the phone that he was letting everyone down.

“Don’t worry about me,” Kurt had answered. “I’ll copy my class notes for you and I’ll work on the design by myself for now, and then we can develop it further when you’re feeling better.“

“You’re an angel,” Neil had sighed. “Now I only wish all the dogs I’m supposed to be walking today could walk themselves for a change. I really can’t get up, my legs feel like cooked noodles.”

“Wow. How many dogs do you have?”

Neil had chuckled and then coughed his head off. “They’re not my dogs, I’m just walking them. It’s how I make the rent. Dog owners here in NYC don’t want to take their darlings to the park three times a day. And God forbid they’d have to clean up after their precious Fifi! So they hire me for that. It pays really well.”

Kurt had hummed in understanding. “Hey, do you want me to walk your doggy clients for now? I’m good with dogs, I promise.”

Neil had thanked him again and given him the number of the dog walker agency, and after taking over Neil’s duties for a week to everyone’s satisfaction, Kurt had been given his own clients.

Today, a new one had been added to the roster.

“Just for a week,” Sheila had said. “His name’s Devon, and he’s a Portuguese water dog. You’re to pick him up at six in the morning, then at twelve, and then at six again. Will that work for you? The owner paid for one-hour walks, and asked to not just walk with the dog but also run and play fetch with him. Apparently, he’s very energetic, and if he doesn’t get enough exercise, he chews up everything in the apartment.”

Kurt had jotted the details down in his planner app, rejoicing that it was three times in one day, as well as an early bird assignment. Any walks before 8 a.m. were paid double, and before 6 a.m. even triple, so he was always glad to get those.

Kurt got up reluctantly as soon as Rachel’s voice broke through his dreams. He filled a thermos with coffee, grabbed his packed breakfast and lunch from the fridge and put on his dog-walking outfit: old jeans, a warm flannel shirt and a navy parka that repelled not only water but doggy paw prints as well.

His high school self would have been appalled at his outfit choices, but Kurt had learned that practicality trumped fashion-forwardness when dealing with dogs and dirty subway trains. Anyway, at Parsons, the bar was raised so impossibly high that people looked down on him even when he wore his most fashionable outfits. A vintage McQueen shirt paired with a Marc Jacobs vest and matching pants from last season did not impress anyone. Nor did his collection of scarves and brooches. Why bother, then? The few friends he had dressed casually, like he did. And in a few years, he’d be a designer in his own right. He could go back to dressing fabulously then.

Kurt took the subway train to Lower Manhattan, eating his breakfast on the way. His first assignment was a dog that had to be walked alone. Precious was docile and sweet, but did not react well to other dogs or other people, so her walks were kept short and were scheduled early in the morning and late at night, when the streets and the park were deserted.

After bringing Precious back, he hopped on the train to the Upper East Side, where he picked up Titus, and after him Snowball and Summer.

When he arrived at the new address, the man who opened the door blinked in sleepy confusion at Kurt and the three dogs he had with him, and let out a loud sneeze when Summer started to scratch behind her ear.

Kurt introduced himself and announced that he was there to take Devon for his walk.

The man sneezed again, rubbed his eyes, blew his nose, and then called over his shoulder, “Sweetcheeks, did you order a dog walker?”

“Shoot, I forgot about that,” was the answer, and a minute later, another guy hurried towards them with a black dog following him, and then overtaking him to race to Kurt and the other dogs. He came to a stop right in front of Kurt, sniffing at him and then sitting on his haunches and looking up at Kurt with a serious expression.

Kurt grinned at the dog. “I take it you are Devon, then? You ready to go out, champ? I’ll have to put you on a leash, I’m afraid. You want to smell my fingers first before I touch you?”

Kurt offered his hand for Devon to sniff, and then turned it over to softly rub the dog’s cheek. “What do you say? Ready to come with me on an adventure?”

Devon wuffed softly, and wagged his tail.

“I’ll take that as a yes!”

Kurt got another leash out of his backpack and quickly attached it to Devon’s collar. “Well, I’ll be back in about an hour, then. Bye!”

“Wait!” said the second guy. “Here’s the spare key. Could you, maybe, let Devon back in after your walk without ringing the bell so we can sleep some more? You’ll also need the key at noon. We’ll be out.”

Kurt took the key and rummaged in his backpack for a permanent marker to write ‘Devon’ on it. Once it was on his key ring, he said “Bye!” again, and took the four dogs out of the building and two blocks away to Central Park.

Snowball, as usual, strained at his leash in his eagerness to get there, his enthusiasm so contagious that even Titus sped up. Soon, Kurt was running to keep up, and it made him chuckle. Devon, the new addition to their party, seemed to fit in well with the group, and was clearly well-trained. When Kurt commanded his charges to stop and wait to cross the street until the walk signal went on, Devon promptly sat down and waited, while the others needed to be told firmly to stop and sit at least twice more before they obeyed.

In the park, Kurt took their leashes off and let them run free for a bit, while he looked for a nice stick to play fetch with. He had a few tennis balls in his backpack, as well as a Frisbee, but he didn’t know what Devon would prefer.

When he’d found a stick that would do, he let out a loud whistle to call the dogs to him. They bounded up to him with their tails wagging madly.

“Wanna play fetch? You wanna?”

Their wriggling butts showed quite clearly that yes, they wanted to play. Kurt threw two of the tennis balls in quick succession, and Snowball chased after them, barking, followed by the others. Snowball found one of the balls and brought it back to Kurt, leaving the others to squabble over the second tennis ball. Summer won that battle, and triumphantly presented her prize to Kurt, who rewarded both Snowball and Summer with an ear-rub and a dog treat.

Devon eyed the stick at Kurt’s feet and tugged at it with his teeth, growling.

Kurt laughed. “You want to catch that? All right then, let go and I’ll throw it!”

Kurt threw the stick, and after it both tennis balls. This time, Devon beat the others and came back with the stick, which he dropped in front of Kurt’s feet. Kurt praised him, scratching gently behind his ears and offering him a treat, doing the same to the others when they brought back the tennis balls. Titus came behind, sulking. He was the slowest of Kurt’s morning clients, and rarely joined in the fun and games, preferring to stick to Kurt instead to get petted, because he was always outrun anyway.

“Aww, Titus, it’s not fair that your legs are so much shorter than theirs, is it? Come here, boy.”

Kurt lavished attention on Titus, too, and then let the Frisbee soar. Immediately, Devon jumped after it, his body bent in a graceful arc and going higher than Kurt would have believed possible. The Portie caught the Frisbee mid-air, and proudly presented it to Kurt.

After some more throwing and fetching, Kurt put the dogs’ leashes on again and walked further into the park. “Well, lady and gents, you know the drill. Make sure you pee and poo before I take you back home.”

A vigorous walk later, all the dogs’ business done, scooped up and discarded, Kurt dropped them off at their respective owners, and went to pick up the next lot for their walk.

By the time he arrived at school, he was hungry again, so as soon as he’d slipped into one of the back rows of the auditorium for his History of Fashion lecture, he grabbed a banana and a granola bar from his backpack and devoured them in mere seconds.

His phone pinged with a reminder that he had a second class that day. For the spring semester, he’d enrolled in an extra class, paid for by Vogue, no less. Isabelle had entrusted the accessory section of the Vogue website to him, and now he needed to brush up on his graphic design skills to make that part of the website look good.

He was really looking forward to these lessons. There were two instructors who co-taught this class, alternating weeks, and both of them had an excellent reputation. One of them was Paula Scher, a big name artist in her fifties, who wore long flowing dresses, long flowing hair and clunky glasses. The other was Blaine Anderson, a very young guy who’d won a prestigious prize when he was barely twenty, but instead of capitalising on that to make his fortune, he’d chosen to teach.

Elliott had taken Professor Anderson’s Colour Theory class last semester, and raved over the guy’s talent… and his looks. Apparently, he was hot, and he had “the finest ass on the planet”.

Kurt had rolled his eyes at that, and quipped, “You dare to say that while I’m right here in front of you?”, jokingly grinding his ass against Elliott. But it had made him curious all the same. He hoped that he’d get to check out the hot professor today.

As soon as he came into the classroom, his hopes were dashed, however. Professor Scher stood at the whiteboard, smiling at everyone who came in and using the mouse pad on her laptop to start up a slideshow.

The exercises she made them do were interesting and funny, and the time flew by. Class ran over a little, and Kurt had to hurry to get to Devon’s apartment in time for his midday walk. As soon as he opened the door, Devon was there, his tail wagging like mad and his tongue hanging out in a doggie smile.

“You ready for your walk? Let’s go!”

[tkmedia]

Raw recap & reactions: The Hurt Business, New Day go to war

Big Poppa I love an overarching thread with multiple twists, turns, and a logical conclusion. Monday Night Raw set it off this week with a match pitting WWE Champion Big E vs Bobby Lashley. Lashley truly believes E can’t beat him, which explains all the rationalization he’s done since the All Mighty added “former WWE Champion” to his resume. Their opening match, which was ill in all the right ways, showcased a dominant Lashley and the reinstatement of the Hurt Business. Yes, ladies and gents, the Hurt Business is apparently back in business. Once Shelton Benjamin and Cedric Alexander made their presence known, Xavier Woods and Kofi Kington stepped in. A brawl ensued, a DQ was handed out, and it was the best kind of chaos. Adam Pearce, clearly not a fan of anything he saw, said the match would continue later tonight in a steel cage. No Hurt Business, no New Day. Just Lashley x E trapped in twisted steel. These two cats didn’t disappoint. Besides the brutality of the match, it was the clear desperation both men showed. Bobby Lashley needed to beat E to prove his point. Before the bell rang, got all of the upper hands on the champ. Lashley didn’t want to leave anything to chance and wanted every advantage he could muster. If that meant tossing E around the floor before the match officially started, then so be it. If that meant calling the Hurt Business down to do business, that’s cool too. E needed to beat the All Mighty to shut him and anyone else up who believes he’s not a legitimate champion. Despite the pre-match ass whooping, E lit Lashley up like a pinball machine once the bell rang. He used the cage to his advantage every now and then, but he wanted to overpower the man. It wasn’t just about proving he was the better man; E needed to prove he was the stronger man. In every good or great wrestling match, a character flaw is shown and exploited. Early in the match, we got ours from Lashley. Rather than continue to go for pin attempts, Lashley tried climbing out. Corey Graves, a man who should make it his business to be Flava Flav to Lashley’s Chuck D, said Bobby wants to win the title in dramatic fashion. Bobby’s ego didn’t allow him to just take the W when it was right there; he had to showboat and continue his pattern of habitual line stepping. E stopped him from getting out and tried to do a Big Ending from the top rope, but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Not yet anyway. We even got a tease of a Hurt Business x New Day feud I’m dying to see. When Shelton and Cedric interfered to stop the champ from climbing out, Woods and Kofi represented as they should. Woods, in particular, looked like a man who needs a belt around his waist when he slammed the cage door on Bobby Lashley’s head, and superkicked Cedric back to Main Event. No diss to the man or Main Event, but yeah, you get the point. Once the four men were finally in the locker room, E and Lashley continued their war. That desperation I mentioned showed up again as both men had chances to walk out of the gate. When Lashley tried to walk out, E grabbed his arm as many times as possible. When E looked ready to saunter out, Lashley grabbed his ankle. They were literally holding on for dear life because the title, and beating each other, means that much to them. Neither man wanted to stay down and neither could stay down. E survived a spear and a spine buster, while Lashley survived multiple suplexes and a Big Ending. But when the challenger had the champion in a precarious position, his fatal flaw reared its ugly head again. Rather than walk out the gate or go for a pinfall, he once again decided to climb out of the ring, apparently learning nothing from earlier. E caught him again and this time, he nailed the Big Ending from the top rope. 1-2-3. While basking in the moment, a familiar tune blasted out of the arena speakers and Drew McIntyre, sword in hand, made his intentions known to the champ. We didn’t get a fight—and still no swordplay—but it’s clear Drew Mac wants a fight and E is ready to give it to him. I hope this isn’t the last tango the Hurt Business and New Day do, but this was a fantastic story and match. In just a few weeks, E and Bobby told a succinct story with a logical conclusion. Well done, boys. Priest x Sheamus Get Extreme I didn’t think they’d get me. After seeing Sheamus and Damian Priest go blow for blow over the United States Championship for several weeks, I got it. Priest is better than Sheamus right now. How many times can they tell the same story? Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t put money on that because the extreme rules stipulation was the proper escalation of a feud built on physicality. As usual with most matches like this in WWE these days, they start out wrestling until one guy realizes they can use kendo sticks, chairs, and whatever plunder they can find. Chekov’s table made an early appearance thanks to the champ, and he suffered a White Noise for his troubles. In fact, with Sheamus’ history as a brawler, one might think this was the perfect match for him to finally best the Infamous one and snatch back the gold. Right? Yeah, about that. We’ve seen Priest outsmart Sheamus in their previous matches. Even last night, he was just quicker to the draw than the Celtic Warrior. This week, Priest showed he’s the better man physically as well. He survived Sheamus’ best shots, and, in my favorite spot of the night, threw a chair at the man’s face to counter a Brogue Kick. Ultimately, Sheamus met his...reckoning...after going through a table in the corner of the ring, and then taking a Reckoning. This should be the last gasp in this feud. The draft is Friday, and these two have fought each other enough. Damian needs more challengers, and Sheamus might benefit from a change of scenery. Good ending to a story that went a long way in making Damian a legit tough cat and not someone you want to mess with. Extracurriculars Words from Goldberg’s Garage Goldberg doesn’t know what kind of a papa Bobby Lashley is. Clearly, Lashley isn’t the type to have a painting of his arm and his baby clinging to said arm on his wall. But that aside, Goldberg wants to fulfill a promise he made to his wife and his son to always protect the latter, at all costs. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to kill Lashley. This is a good story because its relatable and understandable. Lashley hurt Goldberg’s son, Goldberg wants his pound of flesh. And you know what? I hope he gets it. Goldberg’s never been the best promo but that worked because it felt real and I’m riding with the old man. Finally Phenomenal AJ Styles can pretty much do anything he wants in a wrestling ring with anyone he chooses to do it with. Styles and Riddle put on a dope television match that, at times, looked like someone was legitimately hurt. From a story standpoint, he needed this W. AJ’s racked up several Ls over several weeks, and looked anything but phenomenal. That changed this week and it was beautiful to watch. Charlotte Has no Time for This Either Charlotte Flair wasted an open challenge on Doudrop because, duh, Eva Marie isn’t finished with her former “friend” yet. Anyone who knows wrestling saw this coming from 25 miles away, so it’s not shocking. However, it is disappointing because there’s no end in sight to this thing between Doudrop and Eva plus it ruins her first title match. No one was served well here, so consider it a swing and a miss. And yet.. Raw moves fast. Remember when I said it looks like we’re still doing this thing with Eva and Doudrop? Like I just said it? Scratch that. Eva got on the mic and said she should be Raw’s champion of women. What’s more, she believes she can beat any woman in locker room. This brought out an angry Shayna Baszler, who did to Eva the same thing she did to Nia Jax last week. I guess WWE thought Shayna would get booed for this? Handsome Finish Angel Garza x Erik danced for a bit as a breather after the hot opening segment. It was a glorified squash as Garza got the W. Reggie Lives to Fight Another Day Silly me for thinking Richochet was getting a real chance to get some gold around his waist. Instead of a match filled with cats getting higher than a giraffe, we only got a taste of that until R-Truth, Drake Maverick, and friends interfered. Wherever this ride is going, I want off. That’s no Bear, That’s a BearCAT Tozawa, fresh off another 24-7 embarrassment, demanded a match with anyone. Out came the newly minted Keith “Bearcat” Lee. This is obviously a reboot for the former limitless one. And he looks good. He looks like someone I need to take seriously. But Bearcat? Really? I guess if you’re going to debut that nickname, Cincinnati is the right place. If only Lee wasn’t from Texas. Matching Capes Nikki A.S.H. wants matching capes for Super Brutality. Rhea Ripley isn’t convinced. Six Man Chaos Jeff Hardy, Mansoor, & Mustafa Ali vs. Jinder Mahal, Shanky, & Veer battled in the ongoing saga of Jeff Hardy wandering from position to position on Monday nights. This was a quick hitter that didn’t last long enough to get good or bad. Jinder and the boys got the W as the holding pattern before the draft continues. He’s the Commanding Officer Now Another squash/holding pattern match between Karrion Kross and Jaxson Ryker. They’re building Kross as a dominant super shredder, one who even poked fun at Ryker’s military service. It was a nice touch and added personality to a guy who needs as much as he can to overcome that look. Raw was good this week. The show moved at a good clip, was bookended by two dope matches that told one long story, and was mostly entertaining in the middle. While a lot of it was a holding pattern because things change Friday and next Monday, it was a good sendoff for Raw as we know it. Grade: A- That’s my grade and I’m sticking to it. Your turn. Read the full article

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Sanitizer in chief: Twitter loves Biden inauguration’s mystery podium cleaner

Forget Joe Biden, Kamala Harris and, heck, even Lady Gaga — the true star of the inauguration was the bespectacled man of mystery who wiped down the podium between speakers.

The internet went bananas over the masked, scarf-wearing germ buster as he wordlessly protected the VIPs from COVID-19.

It didn’t take long for Twitter to adopt the hashtags “Sanitizer-in-Chief” and “Podium Sanitizer Guy” with users trading jokes and posing burning questions about the covert Mr. Clean.

And who could blame them? Viewers were mesmerized by the dutiful gray-haired gent who repeatedly whipped out his alcohol wipes before each luminary approached the platform.

BIDEN CORONAVIRUS ADVISER HAWKED MASKS HE SAID WOULD ‘DEACTIVATE’ COVID-19

Microphones picked up the sound of the rubdowns as well as the “thank you” from Supreme Court Chief Justice Roberts waiting patiently in the background for the task to be completed during one of his cleaning breaks.

The unidentified podium sanitizer wipes away Wednesday during Joe Biden’s presidential inauguration. (Fox News video image)

Admirers of the virus warrior such as @lia_d_mcdonald on Twitter quipped: “I came for @joebiden and @kamalaharris but I soon found out I was really there for podium sanitizer guy.”

Others became obsessed with unearthing his identity and credentials. “How much does the Sanitizer in Chief job pay? That guy is really earning his keep,” noted @TheValster42.

An initial investigation by The Post points to his appointment by the Sergeant At Arms, the top official in the US Senate in charge of protocol during the oath-taking ceremony.

Meanwhile another fan, @lilceliacdiseaz, posted: “Also the Head Sanitizer in Chief up there is truly an American patriot. He hits that podium with Lysol and sanitizer with .3 seconds of it being vacated, he is ON it.”

Then, in a possible dig aimed at New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo, she added: “Let’s put him in charge of the vaccine rollout tbh.”

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Echoing her confidence in the cleaning champ, user @robert_riedl suggested: “The podium sanitizer guy should get his own marching band theme.”

But the award for wittiest tweet undoubtedly goes to @yorkshiredadof4 after he commented on a video of the hero in action.

His caption read: “Hey, granddad, what did you do at the 2021 inauguration? Kid, I was the podium sanitizer guy.”

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