#there are indeed two of them dak

[blackkatmagic]

BRUCE/KIT?? HELLO 991 YES ID LIKE TO REPORT AN ATTACK BC I JUST ABOUT TRIPPED WHILE READING THIS AND ALMOST KILLED MYSELF

THATS SO UNIVERSE BRAIN KAT WE DO NOT DESERVE YOU

:}

“Did you know,” Kit says, “that you have sharks in here?”

The boy on the dock startles with a yelp, almost overbalancing from his perch on top of a crate. With admirable grace, he manages to catch himself, then scramble back up before he turns, wide-eyed, to stare at Kit like he’s never seen a Nautolan before.

Well, Kit admits. He probably hasn’t. This planet is most definitely very deep in the Unknown Territories, and the odds of Nautolans besides Kit making it this far are slim. But just yesterday Kit ran into a man calling himself Killer Croc, and surely he doesn’t look all that much stranger.

“Who are you?” the boy blurts.

Kit cocks his head, amused by the bristling. “My name is Kit,” he offers, and raises one webbed hand, wiggling his fingers. He did actually decide to come close for a reason, though, and he offers, “There are several dozen sharks in the harbor right now, all fitted with some kind of control collar.” Deciding that coming any closer is probably a bad idea, he tosses the collar he was able to wrestle off one of the sharks up onto the dock at the base of the crate. “It seems like a public safety risk, letting them—”

“Robin!” a voice cries, loud and alarmed, and Kit catches the flicker of warning in the Force half a second before something slices across the surface of the water. He dives instantly, and the thing misses the top of his tentacles by a hair, thudding into the post holding up the dock with sharp edges. Kit eyes it, then the surface, and ducks back under the boards. He surfaces silently, just as the person who yelled lands with a thump.

“Jay, you okay?” the young man asks, worry as bright as a beacon. “That thing it threw—”

Kit rolls his eyes. It indeed.

“He was saying something about sharks in the bay,” Robin says, and there's a light thump as he drops onto the boards above Kit's head. “And control collars.”

There's a pause. “He put sharks in the bay?”

“Not him,” a new voice says, and Kit glances up as another mind joins the two younger ones. Human, he thinks, though most people here seem to be. Focused, and calculating, and wary, but with a touch of something desperately bright underneath, like a light against the dark clouds.  “Joker.”

“Batman!” the older boy says, relief in his voice. “Is there a way to get them—”

“Aquaman is on his way,” Batman says. “Nightwing, grab the collar. There might be a way to turn the signal off before anyone gets eaten.”

Kit tips his head, considering. The sharks here aren’t intelligent enough for him to speak mind-to-mind with them, but…he can likely follow them easily, from the land or from the water. And it sounds like the person controlling them is doing it for nefarious purposes, like he’d thought. Kit should likely put a stop to that.

“What about the sea monster guy?” Robin asks, and Kit can practically see him wrinkling his nose. “He told us about the sharks. Is he just trying to screw with the Joker?”

“Probably,” Batman says grimly. “We’ll focus on the Joker and then look into him. Robin, with me. Nightwing—”

“I'm going, I'm going,” Nightwing says lightly, and there's a huff, then three running steps and a leap. From beneath the dock, Kit watches his long, twisting leap carry him to the next pier over, and it makes him smile just a little. Very Jedi-like, he thinks, and ignores the ache it brings. He rests a hand against the soaked wood, tipping his head up, and just catches the edge of a long, dak cloak sliding over the edge.

“Robin,” Batman says quietly. “You're okay?”

“Yeah, B,” Robin says, and Kit can feel his grin. “I got three of the Black Mask’s goons, too! They're tied up in that warehouse back there.”

“I’ll call Gordon,” Batman promises, humor threading his tone, and Kit can hear the creak of a gauntlet, the touch of leather on cloth. “Good work, Robin. Let’s go.”

Ah, Kit thinks, smiling to himself over the sound of feet moving away. So that’s how it is. Padawans don’t precisely translate beyond the Jedi, but—well. This is likely something close.

He gives it a moment to be sure they’ve left, then slips back down into the murky water, wrinkling his nose a little. The water here is very polluted, but—something to address later, after the sharks. Maybe the potentially Neti woman he saw railing against polluters on the shore the other day would be willing to help him.

[philosophicusabicus]

Diaries in the Loony Bin

The Loony Bin is a group of individuals who could be called “friends”, but maybe that’s too suggestive. At any rate, this group has a diverse set of opinions on politics and sports, with voices across the political spectrum and through many sports. The intersection of politics and sports, in contemporary society, is met with disdain; however, the members of the Loony Bin seek to make it an acceptable space of discourse. Every week, when the asylum isn’t particularly chaotic (there can be no promises as to consistency of date), an entry will be posted, documenting the developments of thought and culture within these walls. Where many see lunacy as a vice, it is seen as a virtue here. The diary herein is will capture all of the voices of this group, but it will use only one narrator, striking many different chords and tones. Topics will change with rapidity, so be always on edge. Though, nothing will get too toxic, as most topics will be treated rather lightly, aiming at parody. We’re in the Loony Bin after all.

Entry #1:

Where saner minds prevail in the Loony Bin, there is the same old chatter about Brady; about how the Bucs will repeat; about the prospects of Tampa’s young roster. But, in the deeper corners of the Loony establishment, there are whispers of a new team in town — a team in the same conference which has been biding its time of late. The St. Louis R… Los Angeles Rams. This team has the defense of a Trump supporter pressed about another investigation; and they have Stafford now, who can be a completely average version of himself and still be better than Goff. They made the playoffs last year with the latter under the gun: by trusted and tried Loony bin logic, there is no world where they don’t fare better this year.

Alas, as we approach the eve of the NBA Finals, we would be remiss not to reflect on the curious outcomes of the playoffs we have just witnessed. The Suns are on the cusp of their first finals in 28 years, walking over a series of teams who were hobbled to their bones. 1st round against LAL, practically no AD. 2nd round against Denver, no Murray. 3rd round against LAC, no Kawhi.

Is anyone else seeing a curious trend here?

This is like the string of upsets that led to the election of Biden in 2020 — think Georgia, Michigan, and Arizona, among others. Speaking of Biden, nobody can say they’re overly happy with what he’s accomplished in his term so far, but then again many are still aboard the “anything is better than Trump” bandwagon. So that mass is just easy to please.

I have a story to relate. A guard patrolling the halls on a foggy evening last month overheard in a ward unit a patient on a delirious soliloquy. Ranting and raving was usual for this patient deep into the night, but this rave, this was different. “Trump’s rhetoric.. his mannerisms.. his behavior.. it is unfit for the Presidency. Nothing need be pinned on him from a legal standpoint for it to follow that he does not meet the standards of the Chief Representative of the United States. If you were to quantify the number of immoral exhibits he has demonstrated, however insignificant, they would add up to a hefty sum: a demeaning and vicious personality. A personality unfit for such a high position. If we have to pick political poison, let’s pick the lesser of the poisons.” The guard began to hear an uncorking of caps, a sloshing of potions, and a loud thump of a corpse, crashing to the floor.

There was a rampant disease going around the property, from hall to hall, greensward to greensward. Its many and various symptoms included: involuntary association with Big Tech, amnesia about mortgage loans and student debt; anxiety related to pressures of the labor and financial markets; headache and fever regarding quality of romantic life; and a strong preoccupation with taking selfies.

The Bin was in lockdown and every non-faculty member had to isolate in their respective wards. Hence, if the patients were to communicate to each other, a new way medium had to be contrived: they call it “Loonygram”.

As I understand it, though admittedly I understand it very little, one performs some kind of slippery action to facilitate the correspondence between users. From what I have gathered though, it has little chance of success without being a certified maniac. Many prefer the pleasure they derive from their own babbling monologues.

While a doctor was trying to rationalize his patient one day he got carried away on a sermon of his own: “Why the fuss over kneeling anyway? Just because some action affronts a symbol you respect, doesn’t mean the intention was to disrespect that symbol. Differentiating actions and their outcomes from intentions goes a long way out there. There was no intent to disrespect what that American symbolism; that was just a byproduct of an effort trying to gain respect for another symbol: social equality”

The patient, strapped to their chair looks helplessly up at the doctor and asks “So… that helps me in here how?”.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t. Look, it aint all rational out there either, if you catch my drift”.

The patient scrunched his eyes circumspectly at the doctor before his attention was drawn to a fly buzzing on the adjacent wall.

These are curious times within these walls. An episode occurred on the Loony grounds one morning in which one patient wandered over to another, unprovoked, and yelled “my team is winning it all this year!”. The other patient, startled, replied “w..who is your team?” “w..what sport is this even?”

“I am at liberty to express myself; I have the first amendment behind me after all!” cried the provocative patient.

“Indeed, you do. But only where it doesn’t infringe on the freedoms of others” observed the second patient.

“And at what point is that?” jeered the first patient.

“Frankly, I’m not altogether sure. But let’s come to this decision mutually before you spam me with your raptures about the Yankees. Your favorite team is the Yankees, ya?

“How could you possibly.. know?”

“I saw you in the cafeteria last October, forking your pork chops like a feral animal; not long after Gleyber struck out for the 5th time that night either; I saw it in your eyes.”

How that altercation ended remains to be seen, since I merely borrowed it from the journal of another author, who has been missing ever since.

In other rumors, it is with great pain and sympathy that I report an exorcism which took place some time ago in the health dormitory on the fifth floor, all dust and eerie. The patient was being consumed by the demons of his loyalty to the Cowboys.

The pastor on hand, tending to his duties as exorcist, was on the verge of performing his most solemn task, when the possessed man said, as he foamed at the mouth “Elliot… Elliot”

“Excuse me? Elliot? What… Elliot’s going to be the most overrated running back in the league? I’m with you there” laughed the pastor, stuffing a hankerchief in the man’s mouth to muffle his screams.

“Dak. Dak. Dak. Back”

“Dak or not, there is a constant with the Cowboys. At the end of every regular season, they’re barely scratching playoffs.” applying the shock therapy he was taught in his vocational school.

“D..depth a..and.. youth.. a..at receiver” coughs the patient as he loses consciousness for the final time.

“Death and youth make a believer? That’s some sound philosophy my man. You’re impressionable when you’re young so that makes sense, and you live with more respect and appreciation for life as you get old and nearer to death. Truly well spoken”

“This one is one of the better cases, Mary” the doctor says as his assistant walks through the doors.

Tensions are up to a fever pitch these days. Just yesterday, two psychiatrists were shoving each other over whether the condition of the patients is binary or not.

“Their conditions are binary!? That is a very limiting way to view things. If the patient does not want to identify their condition as “sick”, and feels like they want to be labeled ‘sort of sick I suppose’, then the more power to them.”

“No, that is infeasible. If we do not have a clear threshold for their condition, then how can we administer their treatments? At what point? It would be arbitrary.”

“There is no essence of “sickness”; you can’t just define it in any terms you want, just so that it aids your goals; besides, they’re not really sick, sort of.” The insane man, lying on the bed for the entire course of the conversation, just looked blankly and confusedly at his doctors, thinking “so the stories you hear on the outside are true, these people really are Loony huh?”

Some disturbance is happening on the floor below me now, so I must close this entry and I will write another day…

[alittleprincehwa]

just look up 💫

genre : fluff, angst

pairing : park seonghwa | male reader

synopsis midnight strolls with non other.

a / n : thiS TURNED SAD I AM SO SORRY- if there was any mistakes with gendering, please do let me know and I really am sorry if I did.

With the bare silence among you and you alone, your senses reacted to practically anything. As bored as you were, every idea or activity that came in your head wasn't entertaining. You groan and hung your head low. You groan for what's seems like the 7th time for the past hour. Sleeping wasn't an option too, seeing you drank four cups of coffee that contained more caffeine that ever before.

Your head shot up fast when you heard your phone buzzing on your desk. Your phone reached for it and saw that someone was calling. You smile upon seeing the screen, " soulmate 💫 "

You swipe the green button and got to immediately hear his voice. " Hey there, honey bun. " He spoke. You softly chuckle at the vague yet memorable nickname you gave him. " Hey love, how are you? " You smile. " Am I the only one that feels bored right now? " He says. Might have shocked you a bit, " Okay this is further proof we are indeed soulmates. " You laugh.

" Hey, wanna grab some snacks in our usual area? " He asks in a warm and loving tone. You couldn't help but cave in. And with your set of options why would you even decline?

You already had some decent clothes on and so, you ventured to your closet to find a warm coat to put on. Once you found your cozy brown down coat. You tie on a pair of sneakers and grab an extra heat pack for seonghwa incase he was cold.

It was just around the corner, the convince store that lit up the alleyways around it. There you saw your beloved sitting by the chairs displayed outside. A wide smile appears on your face as the cold breeze of the night makes your blushing more apparent. With your hands in your coat to prevent them from freezing, you run up to him. He turns to see you smiling so widely. He pats the seat beside him.

" Why are you smiling so cutely huh? " He chuckled.

" Nothing, just happy to see you. " You reply.

" Your hair is getting long, do you plan on growing it out? You're gonna look like hongjoong hyung. " He laughs, his breath appearing due to the cold temperature.

" I brought you an extra pack, you seem cold. " You hand him the pack you had in hand, part his hair and plant a kiss on his forehead before standing up. " Want some ramen, babe? " You ask.

He nods and you go in the store, you grab 2 cups of ramen, some drinks and extra snacks to try. You check out in the counter with the very tired cashier. You juggled the many things to outside. Hwa saw you struggling a bit and helped you.

As you two sat down waiting for the ramen to cook itself, you bring the snacks out the plastic bag. " Oo this looks interesting and veryyy delicious. " Seonghwa with wide eyes open the cheese and ham dak-galbi burrito. He bites and his eyes fills with sparkles immediately, " Oh my god you gotta try this! " He hands the burrito to you. When you also take a bite he was satisfied with your amazed expression.

" We gotta but more of this, both for us and the members, they're gonna love this. " He says. You love how he always includes the members in everything. When he finds something delicious he always buys 7 extra for the boys. It always awhs your heart. " Especially wooyoung. " You giggle.

When the ramen seemed good enough, you and seonghwa delve in, trying the range of snacks and drinks you picked. Rating some and noting the most delicious one you can find.

" but nothing beats this glorious burrito. " You two agree. You two continue talking for a few more hours. Laughing, gossiping, ranting. You couldn't focus much because his eyes were stuck on you. He looked at you as if you were the only star in the galaxy. You often stopped and just laugh and get flustered.

It was time you two finished up and went for a short walk before departing.

It want a long walk until he stopped in his tracks. With one brow raised, you walk in reverse. " Something the matter love? " Your head peaks like a bird. " You know, it's lonely without you, calls and texts aren't enough. " He looks up the nightly lit sky with a pout.

" So at night, I go to the balcony and look up, I look at the brightest star and say to myself it's you. " He smiles, a bitter one. His smile showed sweetness but his eyes tell a different story. A sad one. With the bright moonlight, it glistens clearly.

He needed love. Comfort. He was tired. Tired of being alone. You know the saying your eyes are the window to the soul? Well that was it. You silently walk infront of him, pulling him into a tight hug. With one hand guiding on the back of his neck, the other was gripping his waist. You stroke the back part of his hair. " Don't hide it. ".

It wasn't long until his quiet sobs could be heard. " Hey I'm always above you, okay? " Even if I'm not there, just look up, I might be a star, I might be sitting on the moon, who knows? " You smile. He laughs in between his cries.

He wipes of the warm tears staining your coat to reveal a smile that was even warmer.

He strokes you short hair that was growing to a mullet soon,

" Gosh can this moment last forever? "

" I wish " he replies before leaning in for a deep and sensual kiss.

[fanficimagery]

Imagine your sister having you move in with her after the last of your family has passed away. Living with superheros and agents never ever crossed your mind, but here you are. Fortunately for you, your sister's boyfriend grants you your own personal floor which no one visits less they've talked to you beforehand.

Brock X Reader

After SHIELD fell and HYDRA came out of the shadows, the world was in chaos. No one knew who to trust and people became paranoid of their city and state officials/representatives after it came out that there was a HYDRA mole within the President's inner circle. It took months and a lot of trust for Captain America, along with a select few trusted individuals, to figure out who was clean and not a lying liar who lied.

No one no longer trusted anything affiliated with the name SHIELD, so it took a lot of persuasion for the World Council to put the Avengers in charge of their very own division. They were to be in charge of all the ex-SHIELD agents who were actually on the right side of things and to be in charge of training any new powered individuals in hopes of them putting their powers to good use.

It was a lot of work, but eventually everyone came together. But then your father passed away- the man you'd been taking care of since your mother passed- and your elder sister Pepper wanted to keep you close. And since you couldn't deny your sister anything, you made the decision to relocate.

Moving into Avengers Tower, you were momentarily starstruck by Captain America. It took Tony pouting and Pepper smothering her giggles for you to snap out it, and after quickly apologizing to Captain- call me Steve- America, meeting everyone else was fairly easy. However, your right eyebrow did twitch every time you saw someone in uniform or covered in blood and/or bandages. Tony thought it was hilarious, but your sister took pity and they relocated you to your own personal floor that had everything you needed so you didn't have to leave your floor if you didn't want to.

Life turned out pretty great, especially after landing the job of receptionist for the Tower. Making appointments, granting/denying entry, and reading everyone's file who stepped into the tower was a pretty easy gig. But sometimes there were some idiots who liked to make your job a little harder than necessary.

Sitting behind a desk, taking calls and making appointments on Stark's fancy tech was probably the easiest job you've ever had. Ogling the powered individuals and agents in tactical gear was a major plus of the work environment, but dealing with the entitled rich assholes who thought themselves too important to need an appointment all while keeping a smile in place was the downfall. Like right now for example.

"I'm sorry, sir," you say for the sixth time, internally screaming, "but I really can't let you up without an appointment. Miss Potts and Mister Stark are very busy people."

Entitled asshole #3 of the day sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You don't seem to understand-"

"I understand perfectly." You smile, adding a touch of pity to your expression. "But rules are rules. I could lose my job if I let you upstairs and you interrupt a meeting they're currently in."

The scumbag scoffs. "As if finding another job is so hard. There's a coffee house on nearly every corner needing a pretty face behind the counter."

Your smile falters, your eye twitches, and your gaze goes steely.

"Is there a problem here?" The gruff voice startles you and your gaze cuts to the left. Standing there is one of the agents who are usually in and out of the tower, but it's someone you've never seen before. Dark eyes, dark hair cut short on the sides and styled loosely on top, and a five o'clock shadow clinging to a very cut jawline.

Your fellow receptionist audibly swoons and you have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing. Quickly glancing at your screen where a pop-up is suddenly blinking from facial recognition being triggered as the agent stepped up to the desk, your smile turns more genuine and lax. "Agent Rumlow. You're early."

"Cap likes his men being punctual, sweetheart." His lips twitch in your direction and the scumbag quietly groans. His gaze narrows as he looks back to the annoyance of the day. "Now is there a problem? I don't think Mister Stark or Miss Potts appreciates you harassing their receptionists."

"Look, man, all I want is to talk with Miss Potts. I'm only in town for a few days and-"

"-and Miss Potts is a very busy woman. If you wanted a meeting with her, then you should have called weeks prior to your trip to see if there was a possibility we could squeeze you in. Dropping in at the last second is really not appropriate."

Scumbag puffs up as if to go off again, but agent Rumlow steps in. "There you have it, pal. You ain't getting upstairs so I suggest you take the loss and schedule an appointment for the next time you're in town."

The guy huffs, bends down to pick up his suitcase, and stomps off. Once he exits and the door shuts behind him, your shoulders droop. "Jesus Christ," you mutter. "That was the most stubborn one today." Your fellow receptionist chuckles and goes back to work, and the agent grins. Smiling sheepishly, you say, "Sorry, agent Rumlow. I shouldn't have said that out loud."

"You're fine," he assures you. "People might make light of the work you do as a receptionist, but they don't take into account the assholes you have to deal with on a daily basis. You're allowed a sigh of relief after dealing with that."

You mock swoon, holding a hand over your heart. "Why, Mr. Rumlow, I do believe you've just become my favorite person ever." That earns you a chuckle and you almost really do swoon. His smile is fuckin' lethal.

Before you can say anything else, your screen pings. Glancing at it, you see it's a message from Tony.

     'Stop flirting with Rumlow and send him on up. It's weird.'

     'Aye, aye, second boss man.'

After hitting send, you turn your gaze back to agent Rumlow. "They're expecting you upstairs. I assume you know the way?"

"'Course I do, darling." He raps his knuckles against the desk before walking backwards, he then turning and heading for the special elevator that goes up passed the average Stark Inc. floors. Then once settled inside the elevator, he faces the closing doors and winks before he's hidden from view.

"Holy shit," you utter, picking up a file that was laying nearby and fanning yourself with it.

The second receptionist chuckles. "Holy shit indeed. Brock Rumlow is not only one of the best agents SHIELD or the Avengers has ever had, but that man is hotter than hell."

"I don't doubt that. Especially the hotter than hell part." Your friend giggles and you put the file down, composing yourself immediately when you see the lobby doors open. "Okay. Shut up about Rumlow now. We need to concentrate on work and not what his dick might look like."

Your friend cackles and you immediately regret your words when everyone in the lobby startles and glances your way.

Over the next week you're treated to watching Agent Rumlow come and go from the tower. He and another agent had apparently been reassigned temporarily, and you were quite grateful since he and Agent Rollins made quite the eye candy. It also helped that Agent Rumlow seemed to scare off anyone giving you trouble because they didn't make an appointment or missed one.

Thankfully, however, your time off has come up and you're quite looking forward to relaxing the next four days. Even if it means you don't get to see the hot agents come and go.

You have dinner with your sister and Tony, and spend some down time with the Avengers who are not on-call by playing some video games or going out and exploring the city.

Then on your third day off, your favorite football team is scheduled to play- the Dallas Cowboys vs. Atlanta Falcons. The only sport fanatics- Sam and Bucky- were busy, so it appeared you were going to be watching alone. You ordered enough food for four people in case the boys got back early, then headed to your bedroom to change into a Dak Prescott jersey, some small sleep shorts, and a pair of knee high socks.

As you waited for your food to be delivered, you let the pre-game play as background noise while pulling down a small stack in plates and a handful of utensils in case guests popped in.

The elevator dings nearly forty minutes later and you practically skip over to greet the delivery boy. Only.. it's not a delivery boy. Oh no. It's more like delivery men. Agent men.

Coming to a stop several feet away, your right eyebrow raises in surprise. "Rumlow. Rollins. This is a surprise."

Their stoic expressions immediately melt and Rollins lights up, whereas Brock turns curious.

"G'Day, love!" Jack Rollins greets, his usual murder-face vanishing when faced with a friend as he enters your domain.

Brock follows, plastic bags swinging from his hands. "You live here, sweetheart?"

"Yeah. The floor is accessible only to those given permission to visit." Realization dawns on both men and you slowly grin. "You've pressed the button before, haven't you?"

"Yep. Never worked," Rollins muses. "Now where do you want these, sheila? He then asks, you trying not to giggle at his Australian accent as he raises the plastic bags in hand.

"Kitchen is good," you say, gesturing them to follow. They do and you huff a laugh when you glance over your shoulder and see them glancing around your place. You have an entire floor to yourself, it being an open-floor plan with the only doors leading to the two bedrooms which each have their own bathrooms inside. Then watching as Rumlow and Rollins set the bags of food down, you say, "JARVIS scans everyone in the elevators. If they press the button for my floor and aren't on the approved list, the elevator won't budge. If you've been approved, JARVIS will let the elevator stop on my floor."

"No offense, sweetheart, but how does a secretary land a place like this?" Brock asks.

You shrug. "My sister wanted me close. We're all that's left of our family and when she asked me to move in, I did."

"Sister?" Rollins asks, brow furrowing.

"Have you guys not noticed my last name? Seriously?" Brock and Jack shrug, and you laugh. "Potts. I'm Y/N Potts. Pepper's younger sister."

"Holy shit."

"You can say that again, mate."

"Now that that's out of the way," you grin. "How did you guys get up here?"

"Oh. Uhh. Shelly?" Brock says, stating it as a question rather than an answer. "She was working the desk downstairs when we getting ready to leave for the night. Delivery guy left the food and she asked us to bring it up after typing something on her computer."

"Hmm. She must have been giving you temporary access to drop off the food," you say. Both men nod and glance around again, and you smother a smile when you see their gaze drawn to the TV. "Well if you guys are off for the night and don't have any plans, I ordered a lot of food if you want to stick around and watch the game. There's beer and other drinks in the fridge."

"Ace!" Jack cheers, turning to dig through the bags he and Brock had just brought up.

You chuckle and then glance at Brock, coloring slightly as his gaze drop down to your bare legs then back up towards your navy blue jersey. He grimaces. "Cowboys fan, sweetheart?"

"Don't hate," you say. "I'll agree to Romo being a pansy ass QB, but Prescott is actually pretty decent. Beasley and Witten are beasts, and you can't tell me otherwise." He holds his hands up in mock surrender and you gesture to the food once more. "Now come on. Grab a plate and fill it. If Clint decides to drop in tonight, he'll eat all the egg rolls."

Jack holds a beer out to Brock as he passes by and the two men waste no time in helping themselves to the food.

As the night progresses, neither men hide their amusement as they see a completely different side of you. Gone are the pant suits and pencil skirts and calm demeanor, and in their place is a screaming football fanatic wearing the smallest shorts ever threatening the ref on TV because he missed throwing the flag on a face mask call.

You don't know what possesses you to give agents Rumlow and Rollins access to your floor, but you do and you've never been more happy. After that first night where they stayed to watch the game with you, something just clicked with them. Jack Rollins was strictly a friend, sometimes a flirtatious one, but Brock Rumlow was something else. Neither of you dared speak of it and you were content to just tiptoe around whatever it was.

And then once they realized they had access to your floor, it seemed like there were no boundaries. Brock and Jack dropped by a lot, but of course they always asked beforehand. If you were working, they managed to coincide their lunch break with yours, or if you were off you either cooked or ordered in to have lunch with them. They even sometimes crashed in your spare bedroom when their shifts got separated and one or the other didn't want to go to their own apartment alone.

Tony was indifferent to your weekly, sometimes daily visitors, but Pepper was wary of them because of their deep undercover stint in HYDRA. However, one particular incident had instantly warmed your sister to Brock.

It was one of your off days and a day Pepper had taken off for some much needed retail therapy when you ended up back at your place. You had stepped off the elevator, sighing in contentment and kicking off your shoes. Pepper followed suit, but then came to an abrupt halt when she spotted someone sleeping on your couch.

"Y/N, is that..?"

"Hmm." You glance in the direction she is staring, smiling softly. "Brock? Yeah. He and Jack drop in when they pull doubles and don't feel like driving to their place."

"Oh. I wasn't aware-"

"Don't make it weird, Pep. Well.. any weirder."

Pepper opens her mouth to retort, but Brock snuffling in his sleep stalls her. "Fury wants all the mangoes," he mumbles. "My mangoes."

You snort and Pepper dissolves into a bout of giggles. "He sleep talks," you tell her. "It's adorable."

The elevator dings softly, and you and your sister turn around to see a tired agent Rollins step off. He smiles politely at Pepper before stepping up to you, he giving you a one-armed hug and a kiss to your temple.

"Room free, love?"

"All yours, Rollins. I'll wake Brock."

"Thanks. Miss Potts," he then nods as he greets your sister, walking off towards your guest bedroom.

Your sister glances at you and you shrug, grinning. Then stepping around your couch, you find a small portion to sit on that's near Brock's hip and gently shake him awake. "Time to wake up, handsome. Your shift starts in ten minutes."

It takes a few moments, but Brock eventually wakes. He smiles sleepily, yawns and stretches, and then is thrown into full wakefulness when he spots your sister. He greets her formally and Pepper hides her smile, she watching him curiously as he grabs his stuff to take his leave.

"Mr. Rumlow?" Pepper calls out. She waits until he turns around. "How do you feel about mangoes?"

His nose scrunches. "Hate them. Why?"

"No reason." Pepper's faux innocence makes you cackle, she dissolving into laughter of her own when Brock frowns at your reaction.

After that day, things had been smooth sailing.

It was rare that all the ladies of the tower had the same night off, so when that time came everyone got together to relax, eat, have drinks, and talk about what's been on their minds as of late.

Pepper, Natasha, Wanda, Darcy, and Jane were well onto the third bottle of wine and settled quite comfortably in the lounge area of your apartment with music playing softly in the background. While everyone was talking and laughing, Jane was the only one distracted as she scribbled notes on a pad of paper you had tossed at her when she started scribbling on napkins.

The elevator dings and every lady calms down, turning to see who was crashing their night.

Agent Rollins steps off, yawning, and his perfectly gelled hair looking a little out of place. Everyone goes eerily quiet, but you grin at his sleepy state.

"Room open, love?" He asks, already heading towards your guest bedroom.

"Nope. But you're more than welcome to wake him and send him to mine. He's only been sleeping for three hours."

"Thanks, sheila."

As Jack disappears, the ladies all turn back towards you. You shrug innocently as Pepper hides her smile behind her glass of wine. But before anyone can say anything, a sleepy Brock walks out of your guest room in nothing but his boxer briefs. Wanda's eyes widen before she quickly averts them, Natasha appraises him quite blatantly, Darcy gapes, and even Jane stops doodling long enough to watch a half naked Brock disappear into your room.

"Agent Rumlow?" Natasha then amuses. "Nice."

"I swear it's not what it looks like," you quickly defend, chuckling.

"They're in the awkward stage," Pepper says. "It's adorable."

"Damn girl. Get some." Darcy waggles her eyebrows, Jane snorts, and you groan.

"He is quite handsome," Wanda quietly muses. "I did not know he had all those muscles."

You sigh longingly, nodding. "So many muscles."

"Mhm. What exactly are agents Rumlow and Rollins doing here?" Natasha wonders.

"They sometimes sleep here when they work double shifts." You shrug. "Brock got in just before you all showed up and Jacky's shift just ended. He prefers the mattress in the guest bedroom rather than mine and Brock, the weirdo, can sleep anywhere."

"And you're just immune to all that?" Darcy asks, waving her hand in the direction of your room.

"Mostly." Jack reappears, he too now half naked. You roll your eyes and Pepper snickers, and everyone else watches his bare back as he stumbles towards the kitchen. "All good, Jacky boy?"

Having gotten himself a glass of water, Jack chugs it before setting the glass in the sink and flashing you a thumb's up.

"How are you not climbing him like a tree?" Darcy asks, incredulous.

Your nose wrinkles in distaste. "It's Jack," you say as if that's reason enough.

"Jack's a sweetheart," Pepper tell them. "It's Brock she has to keep an eye out for. He's trouble."

"So much trouble."

The girls all giggle, but for the next two hours they forget about the men sleeping in your rooms. Then when you all decide to call it a night, Tony, Steve, Bucky, and Clint all have to be called down to escort Pepper, Darcy, Wanda, and Jane back to their rooms. Natasha is the only one capable of walking without injuring herself and it takes you longer than usual to clean-up since you have to concentrate really hard to not drop any glass.

Then after taking a brief shower and brushing your teeth, you quietly walk up to your bed. Brock is sprawled on his stomach in the middle of your bed, no sheet or blanket covering him. Before you can think about, your hand raises of it's own volition and swings down to slap Brock on the ass. He grunts and scoots over, and you climb into your side of the bed.

He climbs under the blanket with you and before you can find a position you're comfortable with, Brock reaches out for you and rearranges you so your back is to his chest. Then after moving your hair aside, he hooks his stubbled jaw over your left shoulder and pulls you close so your butt is pressed against his groin. His hand finds it's way under your shirt and you tense briefly before you feel him relax and his thumb starts to brush back and forth over the skin of your stomach.

"Comfortable?" You muse, grinning and finally relaxing.

"Mmmm. Ladies finally decided to leave?"

"Yeah. Everyone but Natasha had to be carried out."

Brock huffs a laugh. "Heard y'all talking. I'm trouble, huh?"

"You know you are," you say around a yawn. "You enjoy walking around my place half naked too much. If I weren't so tired or half drunk, I'd have probably caved tonight and got some, as Darcy would say."

"Dammit." Brock's chest shakes with suppressed laughter. "Rain check?"

"Definitely."

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures Episode 25:  2 Weeks Pass

When last we left off Amelia, the Air Genasi Monk; Belli, the Half-Orc Bard; Luctan, the Tiefling Fighter; Malak, the Human Cleric and Mournimar, the Tiefling Ranger, they had just slain the invaders of Nelatha Shadowspire’s mannor, who, much to everyone’s collective surprise, were spawned by Vampires!

We carry on from this point as Luctan spends his last spell slot for the rest of his rest on healing Amelia, before bringing in the called over Ficus, Belli’s older brother and daring Rogue, to aide in the investigation.

As the party get situated in their respective positions, they begin their inquiry on the subject of the assassins. The tired, bloody and bruised group learn information, both old and new as they were, indeed, hired to defend the home from attackers, who conspired to kill Nelatha’s mother. Due to their resemblence, it’s easy to mistake one for the other and thus, they had believed she was still in town.

Nel shares that vampires of varying levels of power also would find interest in such organizations and aide in numbers, maybe finances, as partaking in the trade of assassination was amusing to them.

What more, from Ficus, the party learn that, based on their ring tattoos, are normally sent after high calibre targets. So all this makes sense.

In the process of the discussion, Luctan asks for and hopes for Nel’s honesty, as crudely he puts it, he doesn’t want to be “fucked up the ass” by shady business. This, combined with his question on whether this was connected to Nel’s hand being covered in someone else’s blood, back at one of the Spires were related.

And she would confirm.

Nelatha was, in all essense, a vigilante. Her work as a Bard aided her in collecting lore on various people and she saw it her duty to “Nip” certain people in the “bun”, before they became trouble for the rest of society.

Luck trusted her, ultimately as she had been up front with them on other things, so lying now would be pointless...A peaceful rest of the evening did not come, however, as inter-party arguments would arise.

Before the group could reach their resting point on this night, certain tensions would build to boiling points. Amelia, hurt and tired, in the physical and emotional sense would share conflicting words with Luck, who would turn to a silent state, getting the message fairly quickly.

Belli’s casual innuendos would only worsen the situation, when making jokes about her brother and Luck having sex, which would in turn cause Luck to get annoyed and Mournimar try to defuse the situation, only to argue with Belli over it. Tired and done with everything this evening, the blue and red of the team would head to their rooms, cutting the conversation short and over with for the night.

Malak would be lost in all this and be left to his own devices, as he was still quite new to the party, even with the 1st joined combat they partook in. But his time to shine would eventually come, surely.

The following day, Mournimar and Belli would try and reconcile with each other, as the quick to attach to each other people they were, while Luck tried to follow Amelia, concerned over last night’s end and the state of the woman, who shared her story with him first.

He would try to apologize, uncertain of himself and why they didn’t go with her to the meeting spot with Sabrina. He was certainly frustrated over the sudden change that he partook in from that plan. Something that, as friends they owed Amelia at the least.

Amelia would spill her soul, in turn at that time. Rightfully she had words for not just one tiefling, but the other and their Bard for how she was left to feel for months, since Sa Doma. He was the one there and so she spoke her mind, a load of negative feelings being released on the fighter.

It was upsetting, especially so as Luck knew that her points were more than valid. They were a reality he helped create with his actions and inactions. And failing to make a progress in a good direction at that time, he stood in the middle of the street as she left for a meeting with Sabrina.

Belli and Mournimar would manage to fair better in their own conversation as Belli expressed her own woes. As the Bard, it was her duty to raise people’s spirits and she saw it as her failure to do so the previous night, after the fight. And Mournimar encouraged her to not give up in that regard. But to also be mindful of how others would take private matters of the intimate being discussed. Also timing.

All the hwile Ficus, Malak and Nel had a cup of tea together.

With the heavy stuff being released out in the open, as time passed Luck had some seemingly better, well, Luck, in talking to Amelia. As he and Belli tried to make a gathering with Sabrina happen, Belli got in touch with the Wizard.

From the conversation, the eager to make thiings right Bard managed to get an approval from Sab, as long as Amelia would be down for it. Thusly, Luck took it as his responsibility to approach Amelia and ask if it would be ok for everyone to meet up with her sister. This time for real.

It was, to say the least from Luck, both his responsibility to Amelia, as her friend and to everyone to point them in the direction. Luctan would admit, for the first time since even before he showed everyone his true appearance, that he liked them. He liked Belli and Mournimar, he liked Burk when he was around and he was sure that, if Malak stayed with them for long, he’d like him as well.

He admitted that he liked Amelia as well. He appreciated her and let her in on a secret, regarding his own confidence. Something, partially as to why he more often than not wore armor even when in-doors. The reason why it was so hard for him to open up to people. Which was why he was also hiding his face, after all. The first people he met, when he came to Seon, from his home, via teleport scroll.

Though by this point it was quite obvious to him that the party were nothing like his attackers, he still held back, sub and consciously about himself so as not to leave himself open. And yet, he would admit it now the vulnerability.

He cared for all of them and wanted the best for them. After everything the lot of them had been through: The Death Cult, twice over, the dopplegenger at sea, the sea itself! Felaren... The Potentia followers in Sa Doma and the improputation of the tiefling, by Burk; and the flurries on the road to Crystalgate. The hezrou!

After all that. After dealing to some extent with everyone else’s history and family shenanigans, he owed it to her and they all owed it to her, to Amelia, to be there for her in the time she got to spend with her own family.

Not just because it was a tit-for-tat, but also because it was something he desired to be there for, legitimately.

The Disaster Duo’s natures and motives regarding Luck, aside, Amelia did ultimately agree to a meeting at the Tabernax Tavern, the spot that had been quickly becoming the party’s meeting spot over the week they had been in Crystalgate for.

Belli would be their go-between to confirm with Sabrina, via Sending Spell.

And we would get that meetinglater on, during the 2 week time skip that followed. (which is Kaiju-speak for “We couldn’t quite get that done this week, so it’ll happen next session~!)

With the meeting happening, each party member took to their own devices as they prepared for the tournament. When not interacting with one another, casually and through training, they would each look into their CG goals and empowering mechanisms...

Mournimar would invest in buying trick arrows, ones called “Arrows of Sparrows”. Projectiles, which flew twice as far and twice as fast. And for his improvement under Peppery Pete, he would be handed a Gem of Dyun Sight, which would give him 120ft of True Sight. He would be able to see through Illusions and invisibility.

Malak’s two weeks were his own and for his training he’d receive a special ring. (Which is again, Kaiju speak for: stuff that will be elaborated on next session, because real life).

In his time of solitude, Luctan was a particularly busy bea. From collecting supplies and renting out Delemmak’s forge during the evenings to build himself new armor... to asking Belli for assistance in messaging Jayne and Nash, regarding the ball and Dak, respectively.

Jayne had arrived not too long ago in Crystalgate and given the ball to a trusted person in Lady Duststone. Belli would point her in the direction of the animal cafe, much to the glee of the gnomish wizard head lawyer.

Nash would update them, regarding Dak. He was well, though he had begun to think Nash was interested in him. As she was a lesbian, that wasn’t the case. So he seemed safe for now...

From those actions, to all the more. Luck would investigate them. The Traveling Gentlemen. Via persuasion, he’d learn about their favorite spot of gathering. The Tabernax Tavern. Something which shook him. They had occupied the same place at different times and had missed each other. The opportunity to catch them early on, missed. Frustrating.

Luck would carry on his search and learn of sounds of spells going off in the woods and someone, Landis, flying around with his wings. Phantom Limb pain enducing.

And then. Then he’d catch a glimpse of Dink, the Orc, out in the open,walking amongst the populace. But by the time he’d get to where he had seen the man, Luck would miss him. RAGE ENDUCING!

For his training, he’d receive the completed Greatsword, enchanted with Luck’s requested spells, in tact. And once per day he’d use a certain one of them to just... relax.

His last notable deed during the two weeks, he’d call Ficus for assistance and hire him to do a service. 12 platinum given to Ficus, 3 of which he’d hold onto and spread down the line as his hirees would spread the required information.

Belli Narah... Oh, Belli Narah. She had quite the time in her two weeks. Between visiting Cedric and the training, she sepent the remainder, when not around everyone in the party, prepping for and performing on stage with her fellow Bardy Narahs. and she would absolutely KILL IT on stage, outshining all her siblings and her father! Much to Hon’s shock and awe, too!

She would help reconcile the relationship of her father and Ficus, helping them grow as people and as a duo.

And she’d also bring Mournimar again and again to the family in attempts to get them to adopt him. The ranger would end up finding himself the center of a Narah embrace on a few occasions and Morgan would receive the most pats.

For her efforts for the tournament, Peppery Pete would give her special gauntlets. “The Gauntlets Of Heroes Yet Unsung “ As a perfformer and as a Vicious Mockerer, her power would grow.

She’d make peace with Pete, finally. They’d fistbump as he revealed he’d change the name of the Orcish Strength Potion and after some brainstorming, they’d redub it to “ Ichor of the Himbo “.

Amelia’s time would be special. For her. For Nel. For her and Nel. For her, Nel and Sabrina and eventually, Sabrina’s boyfriend.

Amelia would spend plenty of time with Nel as the two would walk together, talk together and bake together. They’d make, as Amelia had sworn to do, a cake for Old Greg from the South East of Crystalgate.

Through her efforts she grew as a person. Through her trials and tribulations she became stronger and faster and more dexterous.

Her gift from Peppery Pete were a pair of boots, which he begged her to put on, as he was quite disturbed by the monk’s decision to walk barefoot everywhere.

They were the Boots of Speed. Their fame well known in fantasy.

With all this done. The party would reach level 8.

2 weeks have passed. The Springtime Welcoming Tournament was in coming.

Previous Episode / Next Episode

[emperorsfoot]

Adora and Bow make it to Dryl and discover something they did not expect. 

Making it up to the Castle of Dryl was way, way easier on flying horse back!

They didn’t have to traverse narrow mountain paths, or risk giving away their position with loud magical transformation, or use First Ones legendary Runeswords to clear away rock slides in their path. No. On the back of Swift Wind, they just flew right on up to the castle. Easy as you please.

They didn’t go directly-directly up to the castle, of course. It was still under Horde control, after all. Not disorganized and confused Horde Remnant control. Cohesive, disciplined, consistent Horde control. The walls held sentries. Regular patrols toured the paths and trails around the castle. Someone would notice a bright, rainbow winged horse land in the courtyard. They were indoctrinated soldiers, they weren’t blind or stupid.

Swift Wind brought them down above the castle. On the slope that hung slightly above its tallest spire. Adora and Bow dismounted and crouched low to the ground. Crawling on their bellies, they slunk up to the edge of the cliff to peer down at the castle.

Sure enough, Dryl was still flying Horde banners. Green on green instead of the usual red on red, or red on black. The sentries on the walls wore full armor, straight postures, alert. There was no slouch in them to indicate a decline in moral. Just looking at the soldiers occupying Dryl, one would think the Horde was never defeated at all.

That was confirmation enough for Adora and Bow that Hordak was, indeed, in residence at Dryl.

After the debacle with the portal, Entrapta brought Hordak back to her own castle to regroup after their defeat.

Adora remembered seeing him just before Catra pulled the switch. She didn’t think it significant at the time, after all, she was trying to stop the end of the world. But he had made some very distinct changes to his costume. The dark Lord that she couldn’t remember changing his look in all the years she’d lived in the Fright Zone had dropped the cape. Replacing it with some kind of armored frame. And front and center on that armored frame was a First Ones crystal. Adora didn’t know if the crystal served some kind of practical purpose in the armor, as a power source, possible, or whatever. But the word in First Ones writing that was inscribed on the crystal was very jarring.

It was entirely possible that Hordak couldn’t read First Ones writing. After all, there were not very many people in Etheria who could. In fact, aside from Adora herself, she’d only met two others capable of reading First Ones interlocking, sigil-like letters. One was Bow’s father, Lance, and… Entrapta. Entrapta had to know what the word inscribed on the collar of Hordak’s new shoulder armor said. She might even have been the one to put it there herself.

‘Luvd’. Loved.

Entrapta and Hordak might very well be lovers.

If they were, it made perfect sense that she would take her lover back to her own Queendom and stronghold after his defeat.

But they still needed to get inside for real confirmation.

For all Adora knew, it was Catra and Scorpia instead. For all Adora knew, after the defeat in the Sanctum, Catra could have staged a coup and taken over what was left of the Horde from Hordak and installed herself as Lady of the Horde. Moving the base of operation to Dryl so that Entrapta –who said Catra was her best friend according to the data- could build more weapons for her.

“I need to get inside.” Adora whispered to Bow and Swift Wind. She had to know. She had to know if it was Catra.

“Don’t forget, it’s a maze in there.” Bow reminded her.

Adora just shook her head. “That doesn’t change the fact that we’ll never know what’s actually going on in there if we just stay out here.”

…

A strap of their overalls slipped down off one shoulder as Dak ran through the dimply lit corridors of the castle. They were trying to keep pace with their quarry.

Imp was making it harder for Dak to catch him. The tiny deamon wasn’t just finding a high perch and waiting for the young hybrid to figure out how to get to him anymore. Now their hunting games had evolved into actual hunting. Hide and Seek. Chase and Tag. Games that developed the small Horde clone’s reflexes and agility. Games that taught the small Horde clone how to think quickly and adaptively, how to solve problems on the fly, and seek solutions around obstacles.

Usually, these lessons were programed into Horde clones during gestation. By the time normal Horde clones were hatched from the tanks, they resembled the physical age of an adult in their early twenties. It was too late by then to use childish hunting games to instill these values and instincts. They were programmed at an early stage of gestation, then reinforced with physical training and conditioning after hatching instead.

Before the degradation that plagued master first manifested, Hordak –Hordak senior- was an excellent hunter and warrior. Who excelled at tracking and cornering prey.

He was an enviable warrior too.

All Horde were trained in all weapons. But Hordak favored the force-pike, and the bow-staff. Melee weapons capable of parrying multiple opponents at once, while also offering a longer range than a more traditional sword –that was the favored weapon of the average soldier, or the more aesthetic and symmetrical shock-batons that Hordwing (another member of the cabinet) favored.

Imp had absolutely no idea how he was going to drill master’s heir in weapons. He was already operating far outside his programed parameters as a deamon-class android indentured to the Imperial Horde cabinet. Deamon were not programmed with archaic childrens games in their databanks and they were not physically designed to teach combat.

But Imp had been Hode’s deamon before he was Hordak’s.

Hode was a member of the Imperial cabinet, and he was eccentric. All members of the Imperial Horde cabinet were a little eccentric. It seemed to be a quirk of high preforming soldiers. Only the best could be elevated to leadership positions directly under the Emperor, and it seemed to be a symptom of the best to also be a little weird. Hode’s weirdness manifested in a strange appreciation for history and art that bordered on fixation.

The Horde, as a species, did not crawl out of the primordial ooze with a cloning tank strapped to its back. There must have been a time before the cloning tanks when the Horde procreated through more natural means. When Horde hatched from eggs instead of tanks. When Horde had to grow slowly over the years, learning with every experience as more natural organisms did. Hode went out of his way to discover the forgotten history of the Horde. Literally, going out of his way, to the planet Revena at the very heart of the Empire.

All that he learned was saved to Imp’s memory banks. The old cabinet Lord had to install surplus memory in Imp to house it all and keep the deamon from crashing. Of all the deamon-class androids in use within the Empire, Imp was probably the most modified and most utilized beyond his original purpose.

Imp never imagined he would actually find a use for any of the data Hode added to him. He always just thought it was the old Lord hoarding information like the information hoarder he was.

Imp turned his attention back to his charge. To master’s heir. A Horde hatched from its cloning tank prior to the age of adulthood. Without any programing or education. They were the closest thing to a ‘naturally hatched’ Horde in several generations. Easily since Revena was deemed inhospitable.

Dak was distracted and no longer running after Imp.

This happened periodically. As much as Dak was master’s clone, they were also the Princess’ clone, and Imp noticed very early on that the Princess’ mind did not think in straight lines. She was easily distracted, her attention shifting focus –complete focus- to whatever new, interesting thing piqued her curiosity.

In this case, it appeared to be a portrait on the wall.

Imp paused in his flying, and fluttered over to perch on top of the painting’s frame. He chittered down at the young Horde clone, demanding they return to the training game. Dak would never become a strong and capable warrior if they neglected lessons that all other Horde clones already came pre-programmed with.

Dak glanced up at him, flashing those eyes that were the wrong color. A luminescent fuchsia instead of the neon glow of primary-red. Then the hybrid went back to studying the painting Imp was perched on. Frustrated, the little deamon fluttered down to land on Dak’s shoulders and see what was so much more important than their training.

It was an image of master’s Princess, Entrapta. Posing with two robots flanking her on either side. Entrapta in the foreground and the bots slightly behind. Imp didn’t see what was so fascinating. It was just Entrapta. Imp had seen Entrapta hundreds of times. Towards the end there, both she and Hordak practically lived in the lab. Cohabitating in a way that deviated from what was average for Horde clones.

“Mother.” Dak informed the deamon, pointing at the picture as if there might be some confusion as to what held their attention.

The hybrid had been expanding their vocabulary by the day, even forming simple sentences. But more than that, Dak was also developing more complicated thought. Becoming curious. About the castle, about the people around them, and about themself. The castle staff that seemed to have appointed themselves additional instructors for master’s heir in the fields of language, manners and etiquette, how to eat, how to dress themselves, and how to comport one’s self as the heir to an Etherian Queendom also spent a great deal of time telling master’s heir about the other half of their genetic template. About their ‘mother’.

‘Mother’ was an Etherian word. Imp couldn’t say that it was an Etherian concept because it was not unique to Etheria. Many races the universe over had a concept of ‘mothers’ and ‘fathers’. Of assigning different names to the genetic templates that formed an individual’s creation. There was no word of equivalent meaning in the Horde language, or if there had been, it was lost to time and disuse through the generations of cloning. Horde did not have parents. They were all siblings. All brothers reproduced from the same model.

All except master’s heir.

“Sc’pya-�� Dak cleared their throat to try again. It had been a couple days since they’d seen Scorpia, but their speaking ability had improved a lot in that time. They did not have to mangle her name anymore. “Scorpia left to find her. Why?”

Imp offered a non-committal shrug. He didn’t care about the actions of beings that didn’t directly affect his master or their goals and mission. The Etherian Force Captain felt somehow responsible for the Princess being sent away, to spite the fact that she was not the one to strike the blow or give the order. Imp would never understand organic beings outside the Horde.

“Baker says I need her.” Dak continued, looking at the painting in the same way one might look at a previously undiscovered creature. With curiosity, a lack of understanding, and a desire to study and become familiar with. Actually, what Baker said was that ‘all children needed their mothers’, and Dak was one of ‘all children’. So, the conclusion was the same even if the words were different. “Do I need a mother?”

Imp searched through his saved auditory files until he found the one syllable negative he needed to answer that question. It was Hordak’s voice that came from his mouth when he opened it to play, “No.”

“Oh.” Did the young clone sound disappointed when they said that? “Okay.”

Imp frowned. Master’s heir seemed to accept the answer, but not believe it. He searched his auditory banks for a larger sound file that might give a better explanation for the young clone. He found an old recoding he didn’t even know was still in his memory drives. “The Horde value strength above all else, Zero-Zero-Three.” A skip in the track. “You are not strong if you require my help to conceal your condition. You cannot rely on other people.” Imp replayed the last line to make sure master’s heir understood the important part. “You cannot rely on other people.”

“Oh.” Dak said again. There was a pregnant pause in which the young clone just stood there, thinking. Processing the information Imp just shared. Then their lips pulled back, white-colored fangs showing in a puckish grin. “Then that means I don’t need you to help me get into the locked room.”

Dak shrugged Imp off their shoulders and dashed off down the corridor in the opposite direction they’d originally come.

Imp was left to flap in frustration.

The Locked Room, was a door in Castle Dryl that no one could open. There was a keypad on the side, presumably that unlocked it and opened the door. But no one knew the combination. There was, however, a small panel at floor level that could be passed through. Dak had seen robots go in and out of it, carrying empty trays on a consistent schedule. Some sort of automated delivery system that no one bothered to turn off. Either that, or there was someone in the Locked Room that needed an empty tray brought to them three times a day. Dak didn’t know, but they wanted to know!

It was only the little hybrid’s second day in the castle when they noticed the phenomenon. They were still getting used to navigating the confusing and maze-like corridors of Dryl when Dak saw a little robot that was smaller than they were carrying an empty tray on its head. Curious, Dak followed it. Through twists and turns, down corridors and up ramps. Until the little bot disappeared through a small panel at floor level sized exactly for it that slid out of the way. The bot exited the hatch a few moments later, still carrying its empty tray. Dak followed it again, this time ending its journey through the castle in the kitchens.

When Dak asked Busgirl about the bot and the Locked Room, all she told them was that the Princess –their mother- never planned to get captured in the Fright Zone and so never turned off her automated serving bots. No one else in the castle knew how, so the bot just kept going through the motions of its programed task.

Which meant that whatever was inside the Locked Room was directly related to Dak’s mother. They wanted inside that room. They wanted to know. It was a desire for answers that went beyond just standard curiosity.

Dak asked Imp to go through the hatch and unlock the room from the inside. The little deamon was about the same size as the bot and should have no problem fitting through the small opening. But Imp flat out refused. So, Dak was left to come up with their own creative solution.

They navigated the corridors of Dryl until they came to an exit that lead outside. Dak was several floors up from their destination, but the height wasn’t much of a barrier for them.

Climbing onto the walkway ledge, Dak leaned forward, wrapping their hair around the flagpole of one of the Horde banners that were raised all over the castle. Using their hair as a rope, the little hybrid swung themself from the walkway to the pole. Hugging it koala-style to keep from falling. Then slid down the pole, using their hair to control the speed of their decent until they reached the courtyard where the soldiers patrolled and practiced daily marching and combat drills.

In the courtyard, off to one side, shoved in a corner, close to where the castled wall joined into the very living rock of the cliffs, was the makeshift hanger where the Horde parked and stored their vehicles. It was also where they stored their tools for repairing and maintaining the vehicles. It was the tools Dak was after.

“Who goes there!?” A soldier snapped, hearing the noise of the little hybrid grabbing whatever looked useful and shoving them in the pockets of their overalls.

“Hi.” Dak straightened and turned around, hands full of tools that were almost too big for their child-sized hands to hold. They curled the tail of their hair to pantomime a thumb and pointed at themself. “I’m Hordak!”

The soldier came up short, recognizing the ‘intruder’ as their Lord’s heir. She lowered her weapon, at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Was the Little Lord allowed to play with real mechanics’ tools? Should she stop them? Or would that be hindering some part of the Lord’s personal projects. The average Horde soldier did not know much about what was and was not appropriate for children.

“Bye.” The little hybrid brushed past the soldier, their pockets and arms full of raided tools. Dak pantomimed waving good-bye with their hair was they exited the hanger.

The poor soldier was left just blinking at the Little Lord’s retreating back.

A few minutes later, when the same soldier hear more noises sneaking through the hanger, she assumed it was Hordak’s heir again and ignored it. Perhaps if she had checked on the second round of noises, she would have recognized the defector former-Force Captain Adora and one of her rebel conspirators, Bow. But the guard did not check, and the intruders were allowed to slip into the castle unnoticed.

Arms and pockets full of tools, Dak marched purposefully through the corridors. As if they were confident in where they were going.

They were confident. But they still got lost twice on the way to the Locked Room. They had gotten very familiar with the labyrinthine twists and turns –for the most part. But every now and again, when they exited out one way, and came back in another, they got confused on which way to take to get to where they wanted to go.

It took a couple tries, but Dak finally found the Locked Room again.

They dumped all the tools in their arms on the floor and took out the tools in their pockets. Keeling down, using both hands and their hair, Dak arranged all the tool carefully next to the panel hatch. Organizing them by shape since they didn’t actually know what half of them did.

Turning their attention back to the hatch, Dak examined the opening. Deciding what they actually had to do in order to get inside the Locked Room. The panel had a seal around it. A metal trim that was fastened on by screws with hexagonal indents. Dak didn’t know the names of everything he’d taken with him, but they could see what fit with what. Selecting an allan wrench and began twisting the bolts. Just loosening them at first, then taking them out all together. Finally, the metal seal was able to be pulled off.

The sliding panel of the hatch fell away almost the moment the seal was off and Dak smiled. Their hair curling and twisting with excitement. They were going to get into the Locked Room, and they didn’t even need Imp’s help after all!

Maybe the deamon was right. Horde didn’t need help!

Dak tried crawling through the space that was made bigger by the removal of the seal and panel.

…And got immediately stuck.

They made a sound of distress. A loud, shrill, feral sound that came from the back of their throat. More like a predator caught in the claw-trap than a startled child struggling in a tight spot they put themselves in.

Maybe Imp was wrong. Maybe Horde did need help.

“Do you hear that?”

Dak’s pointed ears twitched. They paused in their panicked keening to listen. It sounded like other people in the corridor. A guard patrol maybe? Dak rarely saw soldiers actually inside the castle. They were intimidated by the winding maze of corridors. Preferring instead to construct their own field barracks in the courtyard.

“It sounded like a wounded animal.” Replied a second voice.

There was a pause.

“You don’t think… you don’t think Entrapta’s testing on animals, do you?” They sounded so concerned.

Dak could hear footsteps now. Two pairs of boots. They must have just turned a corner.

Then one of them gasped. “Is that a kid!?”

“Are they hurt?” Asked the other.

“Not hurt!” Dak shouted, trying to turn their head but having trouble. “Just stuck!”

“Hang one.” Commanded one of the speakers. A gentle masculine voice, full of soft empathy and soothing sensitive tones. “We’ll get you out.”

“No!” Dak snapped. They were finally getting inside the Locked Room. They were not going to give up and let themself he dragged out by soldiers who didn’t know any better. “I want in!”

There was a silent pause from the two on the corridor side.

Then the one with the gentle masculine voice noted, “This is Entrapta’s lab.”

There was a second silent pause.

Then the second one, female, business-like, more militaristic, asked, “Kid, if we get you in the lab, can you unlock the door and let us in too?”

“Yeah.” Dak promised.

“Okay. Bow, help me push.” The female commanded.

“But what if they get hurt?” Asked the male.

“We need to know.” The other reminded him. “Kid, we’re gonna push you from this side. Let us know if we’re hurting you.”

Dak felt hands on their feet, pushing them from the outside. Lifting their head, Dak cast their eyes around for something close enough to grab to pull themself from the inside.

The Locked Room was not what Dak was expecting. It was dimly lit, dimmer than the rest of the castle which was already fairly dim. But Dak’s eyes adjusted quickly, the bioluminescent fuchsia sclera glowing brighter as the hybrid’s body registered the need to compensate for their environment.

The far wall of the Locked Room was one large computer array. A massive monitor screen in the center, surrounded by several smaller screens. All of them currently asleep, the resting screen saver bouncing around their frames. There were several parts of machines arranged along the walls. Some suspended from the ceiling. Some supported in frames. Some just lying on the floor. The closest one set in a frame that was bolted down firmly was just barely close enough for Dak to grab with their hair.

Craning their neck, Dak stretched their blue mohawk of hair to wrap around a protruding segment of broken cam shaft.

Between the two pushing them on the outside, and Dak pulling themself on the inside, the little hybrid managed to get through the tiny robot hatch. …and the only damage was that their overalls ripped a little bit. That one strap that was slipping down their shoulder earlier breaking entirely. It hung limply down their front, making their appearance asymmetrical and making them look sloppy.

Finally inside the Locked Room, Dak stood. Looking around in all directions. Lifting their head, turning three-hundred and sixty degrees to try and see everything at once.

The tow that were still outside banged on the main door. “Hey, Kid, let us in. Remember. Are you okay in there? Kid?”

It took effort for Dak to pry their eyes away from all the interesting things the Locked Room held. They wanted to snoop through it all. But the two on the other side of the door were so insistent. And Dak had said that they would let them in once inside. Dak reached with their hair to hit the door release button.

The door slid open and Dak actually saw their helpers for the first time. A man and a woman. They were not wearing Horde soldier uniforms, but that could just mean they were off duty. Dak had only been at the castle for a few days and hadn’t met everyone yet. The woman was tall, blond haired, and blue eyed. Wearing a red jacket with big shoulder pads, the golden hilt of a sword just visible over one shoulder. The man was shorter than her, dark skinned, dark haired, and dark eyed. He had an open and friendly face that made Dak think they might be fun to hang out with.

Both of them froze the moment they saw Dak.

Expressions shifting from cautiously hopeful to downright shocked. They both looked down at Dak, their eyes wide and mouths slightly open. What? Was there something on their face? Was the hybrid dirty from squeezing through the hatch? Dak brushed their clothes off, tried righting the ripped strap of their overalls, then gave up when it just fell back down again.

They looked back up at the still shock-faced strangers and smiled. Flashing their sharper-than-sharp white teeth. “Hi. I’m Hordak.”

The two just continued to stare at them.

“Uh- uh- Adora…?” Began the dark, friendly-faced one.

“Yeah, Bow?” Answered the tall blond with the sword.

“Are you… seeing the same thing I’m seeing?” His voice cracked on that last word. As if he were suddenly and inexplicably so nervous his throat was closing from a level of shock that triggered a physiological panic.

A child that looked to be around the age of ten. Pale skinned, pointy eared, glowing-eyed, with a long blue mohawk going all the way down to their feet. Wearing dark navy overalls, over a burgundy t-shirt that looked just a size too large for them.

“Are you seeing a kid-version of Hordak?” Asked the woman –Adora.

“I’m Hordak!” Dak repeated, suddenly becoming frustrated with the pair.

“Okay.” The man –Bow- sounded like he might break down into tears. “Just making sure.”

The two just went back to staring.

Dak became impatient. “Locked Room’s open.” They pointed with the hair. The long tail of blue making a wide sweep of the room. “You wanted in too, right?”

If it was even possible, Bow and Adora’s eyes went even wider upon seeing the child-Hordak’s hair moved and shift more like an extra limb than actual hair. Prehensile hair. Like Entrapta’s.

They each made odd croaking sounds. Mere words not being able to express the sheer mind-freezing shock they felt.

Bow seemed to recover first. Following Dak into the lab, watching as the hybrid’s hair moved as they moved. Not like it was just hanging from their hair, but swinging like a person’s arms swing when they walk. Hordak’s face and Hordak’s body, but with Entrapta’s Princess power. A combination of Hordak and Entrapta.

“How- how old are you?” Bow managed to croak out. The kid looked to be a decade old. Ten years. But that couldn’t be right! There was no way Entrapta and Hordak knew each other back then. Entrapta was only left behind in the Fright Zone barely a year ago.

Hearts in their throats, both Bow and Adora watched the hybrid count on their taloned fingers. Then the child turned to them, holding up six fingers. “This many.”

“Six years?” Adora echoed, disbelieving. “You’re six years old?”

Adora wasn’t sure which part of that seemed more wrong to her. The part where a six-year-old looked like a ten-year-old. Or the part where it implied that Entrapta and Hordak had been lovers since long before she joined the Princess Alliance. Was Entrapta even ever on their side at all? Or had she always been a spy for her lover? Her lover and the father of her child.

The hybrid blinked at them, as if not understanding why they weren’t understanding. “Six days.”

“I’m just gonna sit down…” Bow rested his weight on the closest object in the lab that looked like it could both support him, and wasn’t about to spring to life and attack him for sitting on it.

“You can’t be only days old!” Adora tried to argue. She liked it better when she thought they were six years, it made more sense. “You’re, like, ten!”

They frowned at her. “I’m six days and three quarters.”

Bow drew in a breath, steadying his nerves and regathering his senses. “Now, when you say you’re Hordak…?” He trailed off, not actually sure how he meant to finish that question.

“I’m Hordak.” Repeated the hybrid.

“Okay.” Bow just leaned back against the deactivated console and listing robot he was sitting on. It seemed like the world wasn’t making sense at the moment. He decided to just roll with it and wondered if this was what going mad felt like.

Adora cleared her throat. “Um, how? Exactly. Are you Hordak?”

“Sc’pya said that I’m-“ They were cut off when Imp flew into the room. Finally navigating his way through the castle to the Locked Room and finding the door open.

Imp screeched loudly upon recognizing the defector Adora and the rebel Bow, with master’s heir. The little deamon went instantly on the offensive to protect master’s heir. Sounding an alarm as it attacked.

Teeth bared. Fangs exposed. Hand out with talons extended. Imp went for Adora first. As She-Ra, she was the most dangerous. Wings flapping madly, the little deamon clawed at the former-Force Captain. The whole lab filling with his shrill screeches, almost as loud as the intruder alarm that was now blaring through the halls.

“Imp, no!” Dak shouted at the deamon.

But the creature just screeched in response. These were master’s enemies! He could not allow master’s enemies to get a hold of master’s heir!

“Get it off!” Adora tried batting the deamon away with one arm while the other reached over her shoulder for the Sword of Protection to protect her from the tiny creature.

Bow jumped off the console he had been sitting on. He notched an arrow, then thought better up it since the target was small, moving frantically, and directly in front of Adora. He un-notched the arrow and put his bow away, using the trick arrow to swat at the deamon instead.

Imp turned his face to the archer, caught the swatting arrow in his mouth and bit down and on the thing intending to break it. The trick arrow point burst in the deamon’s mouth, covering the creature’s face in thick, viscous, concussive foam. Imp forgot about Adora and instead started clawing at its face to free itself. Spitting and scraping at the foam to try and free his optic sensors and mouth. The deamon shrieked some more, but it came out in muted gurgles.

The deamon fell to the ground, struggling frantically.

“Imp!” Dak went to their knees next to the deamon, using both hands and hair to help the creature free itself from the trick substance.

Adora and Bow just stood there, watching the child try and help the little winged gremlin as if it were a dear pet, or close friend and companion.

That was about the time the corridor outside filled with soldiers in full armor.

“Don’t move!” Barked one soldier, presumably the leader. “Put your hands up and step away from Lord Hordak!”

It was not the wisest thing to do, but Adora snorted. “Which is it? Do you want us to step away, or do you want us to not move?”

The soldier thumbed the safety off on her weapon. “Don’t get cute with me, rebel.”

Finally succeeding in getting the foam off his face, Imp grabbed Dak by the hand and pulled the little hybrid away from the intruders. Placing the child behind the protection of the ranks of Horde soldiers –whom closed in around the heir.

With few other options, both Bow and Adora put their hands up in defeat.

At least they discovered who the ‘Hordak’ that was rumored have taken up residence in Castle Dryl.

[smitten-with-witten]

‘LANDOVER, MD — The mission to further establish momentum going into the NFL playoffs was failed by the Dallas Cowboys, and in a fashion that was tough to stomach for all involved, as they fell 26-6 in their regular season finale against the Washington Commanders.

Ultimately, a win wouldn't have done anything to improve their playoff seeding (No. 5), but playing their starters — including Dak Prescott — for the majority of the game showed they were hoping to leave FedEx Field with a win.

Instead, they left having played the worst game of the season, slotting it directly next to their 19-3 loss in Week 1 to the very same Tampa Bay Buccaneers they must now recover to face on NFL Super Wild Card Weekend in no more than eight days from now.

Prescott, who played poorly in Week 1, virtually mirrored his numbers from that outing in Week 18, as you can readily see:

Week 1: 14/29 passing, 134 passing yards, 0 TD, 1 INT, 47.2 rating

Week 18: 14/37 passing, 128 passing yards, 1 passing TD, 1 INT, 45.8 rating

The two-time Pro Bowler took to the podium following the regular season finale and took the train of accountability head on.

"Sh---y, not to use the language but it was exactly that," said Prescott of his and the offense's performance against the Commanders on Sunday. "The defense gave us a chance. We put them in bad positions, us and special teams did. ... I think the defense did enough, obviously.

"But, for offense, just completely not who we are. I don't think I've seen us like that, damn sure not in the last two years. It's something that, as much as you want to burn the tape and move forward, there's a lot that we've got to learn from. Use this tape."

Time and again, the defense did indeed give the Cowboys a chance at capitalizing, but the offense could muster only one touchdown (a 15-yard scoring pass from Prescott to CeeDee Lamb to end the first half) and the special teams unit, one that's been routinely excellent this season, only made things worse.

A great kick return to begin the contest was deleted by a penalty on safety Tyler Coyle. Bryan Anger fumbled a snap that then saw him tackled, gifting possession to the Commanders in the red zone. Turpin later muffed his second punt of the season, the Commanders again recovering in the red zone.

The Cowboys simply could not get out of their own way, as has been the case in each of their five losses this season.

"We've got the right guys in this locker room [that] understand nobody played their best ball, simple as that," Prescott said. "It starts with myself — being accountable for what you put out there, what you did. From that it's about understanding that's not who we are and then moving on and knowing what we've got ahead of us: one play at a time, one game at a time."

One thing the Cowboys were not doing, however, is wondering about the Eagles' outcome, having "zero awareness" of it as they desperately tried to find some sort of consistency on offense that never arrived.

For Prescott, who saw Kendall Fuller drop a would-be interception before targeting him on the very next play, resulting in a pick-six, now has a league- and career-high 15 interceptions on the season; and that puts the Cowboys in worrisome air when considering they're now tasked with trying to hand Tom Brady his first-ever loss against Dallas — in the playoffs, no less.

"It stinks," he admitted. "... I've got to get better at it. This won't continue. ... I've been having to get back up all my life."

The film from Washington won't be burned, but instead dissected and digested fully to try and force another needed episode of resilience from a Cowboys team that hasn't suffered a two-game losing streak at any point in the season. Keeping that trend alive in Tampa will ultimately tell the tale of if this version of the Cowboys are as special as they believe they can be.

Given the vibe in the locker room after the game, and of Prescott, they're sitting with a nauseating taste in their mouths at the moment, readying to turn the page quickly while not forgetting what happened in Landover.

"When that plane touches down [in Dallas], we're on to Tampa." Dak Prescott isn't shying away from his fault in the INTs that have burned the Cowboys this season and, after losing to the Commanders, knows they must stop — effective immediately.’

[kerahlekung]

100 hari Din PM dapat pujian ramai kecuali UMNO,why?...

100 hari Din PM dapat pujian ramai kecuali UMNO,why?....

Din macam Bangla tak faham Bahasa Melayu...

Sempena 100 hari Muhyiddin Yassin menjadi Perdana Menteri pada 9 Jun lalu, ternampak begitu banyak puji-pujian dan sanjungan yang sengaja direka dikalungkan terhadapnya.Terutama media arus perdana, pengampu dalam media sosial, pensyarah universiti dan tidak terkecuali pemimpin Pas, mereka dilihat bukan main gigih lagi memberi pujian kepada Muhyiddin. Terlihat pujian dan sanjungan terhadap Muhyiddin ini melebihi apa yang pernah diterima oleh mana-mana Perdana Menteri sebelum ini ketika mereka melepasi tempoh 100 hari memegang jawatan tersebut. Tak tahulah, mungkin kerana kedudukan Muhyiddin yang tidak begitu stabil dan cara beliau menjadi Perdana Menteri pula tidak mengikut normal yang sepatutnya, bak kata Duta ke Timur Tengah bertaraf menteri – ikut tebuk atap – maka pujian dan sanjungan sebegitu rupa sengaja diolah untuk menenggelamkan ketidakstabilan yang ada. Ada yang mengatakan dalam tempoh 100 hari ini Muhyiddin telah berjaya mengemudi negara dengan cemerlang, tidak berpolitik, hanya fokus kepada rakyat, layak diberikan markah A, rakyat lebih gembira dan bermacam-macam lagi kata-kata pujian yang tentunya mampu membuatkan songkok di kepalanya jadi lebih ketat daripada biasa. Cuma yang agak sedikit musykil, tidak ternampak ada pemimpin UMNO turut ghairah memberi pujian kepada Muhyiddin berbanding rakan daripada Pas yang baru merasa nikmat jawatan dalam kerajaan.

Org kata  bebas rasuah bukan bebaskan perasuah...

Tetapi, jika kita jujur dan benar-benar melihat menggunakan kaca mata atau teropong yang putih bersih, bukan disaluti limpahan duniawi bertaraf menteri, benarkah Muhyiddin seorang Perdana Menteri yang boleh dikira berjaya dan layak diberi markah A? Benarkah juga beliau seorang Perdana Menteri yang tidak berpolitik dalam tempoh 100 hari, sebaliknya hanya mengutamakan rakyat semata-mata? Hakikat paling nyata ialah Muhyiddin belum teruji lagi kedudukannya kerana sejak menjadi Perdana Menteri, beliau bukan saja mengelak untuk mengadakan sidang Parlimen, malah tidak pernah sama sekali berdepan wartawan secara langsung. Dengan itu, kita tidak tahu sama ada beliau benar-benar ada sokongan majoriti atau sebaliknya. Lantaran tidak berani mengadakan sidang Parlimen, malah menangguhkan daripada 9 Mac kepada 18 Mei, kemudian menangguhkan sekali lagi kepada 13 Julai depan, itu pun belum dipastikan sama usul undi tidak percaya akan dibenar dibentang atau terus dihalang, tanggapan mudah ialah beliau masih tidak cukup sokongan di dalam Parlimen. Jika benar sudah ada sokongan, kenapa mesti menangguh-nangguhkan sidang Parlimen? Walaupun sudah 100 hari memegang kuasa, Muhyiddin juga satu-satunya Perdana Menteri yang tidak pernah berdepan secara langsung dengan wartawan. Beliau hanya berani muncul melalui perutusan khas beberapa kali di depan kamera dan tanpa pertanyaan wartawan kemudiannya. - Shahbudin Husin

Ostad N Balasubramaniam juai mimpi jumpa Nabi, dapat juga Senator. 

Kesian walaun2 tin milo dan pacak bendera habuk pun tak dak...Takbeerrr!

Can we still look to Tun M 

for another miracle?...

PM Muhyiddin's effort to combat the coronavirus outbreak has been commendable, but unfortunately this alone is not going to assure him he can always keep his PM seat, nor his party PPBM remains solid as ever. While fighting the virus, he is also trying to rope in more elected reps, Indeed, there are too many political frogs constantly making noise in the midst, totally unprincipled, dishonorable and morally depraved. Tun M is not going to be left out as he is prowling to make a comeback soon. The thing is, how many people will place their trust on this old man again, save for Pakatan Harapan? To seize the lost power, PH will still opt to dance with the devil, knowing very well he could hardly be trusted. Anwar seems to have somewhat changed in recent weeks. He has started to get tough with Mahathir, having refused to meet him on several occasions and absented himself from press conferences he chaired. Party insiders say Anwar's tolerance for Mahathir has been stretched to a limit and he is not going to submit himself to the old man any more. We all know that Anwar's attitude will sooner or later soften for the sake of power. Expectedly, the two men met again before long. On June 10, Mahathir made a personal call at PKR headquarters to attend the PH meeting to discuss the PM candidate if PH++ gets to rule again. The PM post is the only palpable barrier standing in the way of PH–Mahathir cooperation. We have yet to see whether Anwar will make himself a fool once again. Given the current political chaos in the country, political frogs have become a tradable commodity. Both Mahathir and PH are racing against time to get elected reps on their side while seizing any available opportunity to talk the 18 GPS MPs into joining them, which will significantly boost their chances of returning to power. Mahathir's son Mukhriz has claimed that PH will form a new government before the parliamentary sitting resumes in July. Both PN and PH claim they have the numbers.

The numbers are, in reality, no longer important, as frogs can hop from one side to another and statutory declarations can be signed carelessly. Mahathir has said the numbers keep appearing and disappearing and he just doesn't know whether he has the numbers! Indeed, power will make one crazy, and once the sweet taste of power is savored, it will stay etched in the mind and be grabbed back at all costs if lost. In order to grab the power, many politicians have forgotten that the power entrusted to them actually comes from the rakyat, who are their real bosses. When power is at hand, they become arrogant and would indiscriminately abuse that power. Mahathir is now working very hard to recapture that power from the hands of Muhyiddin. In addition to getting more MPs to support him, he also challenges Muhyiddin in the court over the termination of party membership of him and four others. He insists he is still the party's legitimate chairman. Muhyiddin not only needs to put up a good show in combating the virus, he also has tons of political challenges to face. To consolidate PPBM's position in the ruling coalition, he has proposed to register PN as a formal alliance, but that does not seem to work out quite nicely. Majority of PPBM leaders and members were from Umno, both parties sharing very identical DNA. No one can tell for sure MPs defecting to PPBM post-GE14 will not go back to Umno one day. Which side will these people stand if a snap election is called soon, or if Muhyiddin's administration would last until the next general election is due?

There were as many as 46 parliamentary seats that saw three-cornered fights among Umno, PAS and PPBM in GE14. Of these seats, PPBM only won ten while Umno and PAS took 30 and six respectively. It will be inconceivable for Muhyiddin to get Umno to hand over these seats to his party, and pro-Mahathir former education minister Maszlee Malik is skeptical PPBM can even retain the existing ten seats. The fundamental support bases of these three parties are all Malay-dominant constituencies. Once the Parliament is dissolved, all these parties will be operating on their own. Neither Umno nor PAS is going to negotiate seat allocation with you! Muhyiddin was unlucky enough to have assumed the PM post at a time the country's coronavirus outbreak was on the verge of an explosive growth. And with the virus now somewhat under control, he has to muster all his energy to tackle the siege from PH and Mahathir. Mahathir has never absented himself from the Malaysian governments during the past four decades. Save for his 22 years as prime minister, he also made himself visible during Abdullah's and Najib's administrations. He took out Abdullah to install Najib, and then took out the latter to become PM himself, again. This February, his rushy resignation killed the PH administration, and he was then fighting to get reinstated. He will not call it a day until Muhyiddin—the unpresumable eighth prime minister who betrayed and unseated him—is taken out of office. Mahathir still has the clout, and is now making advances towards becoming the country's ninth prime minister, another world record indeed! But, can we still look to him to deliver another miracle? - Pook Ah Lek, Sin Chew Daily

Najib's Races Plans Into Action 

To Get Off The Hook?...

The moves to get charges dropped against UMNO’s warlords appear to have moved into urgent top gear – is this a sign that the coup coalition fears time may be running out? Yesterday the former AG Apandi (who in 2016 declared that the 1MDB investigation proved no evidence of wrongdoing whilst waving the incriminating evidence for all to see) was once more put to work seeking to allege the prosecutor in Najib’s 1MDB trial was compromised. Now, it has emerged, Najib’s allies immediately headed down to the police station reporting alleged ‘treason’ against former PM Mahathir Mohamad in connection with the issue!

Tactic to excuse charges being dropped After years of silence on such matters Apandi made his surprise intervention claiming that the prosecutor leading the case against Najib in the 1MDB trial, Gopal Sri Ram, was somehow compromised because, according to Apandi, Sri Ram asked him whilst he was Attorney General to proceed against Najib over 1MDB back before the GE14 election. In short, it appears that Sri Ram, a former federal judge, had advised Apandi to do his job. It may seem a stretch, but the coup conspirators need some sort of fig leaf to excuse evident plans to use the hijacking of the Malaysian government to drop the multiple charges of theft against Najib and fellow UMNO warlords and it seems they have chosen this. Naturally, they have made their attack as aggressive as possible suggesting that it is Mahathir and Sri Ram* who should be jailed, not the man who accepted stolen billions of public money into his private bank accounts. According to the police report, placed by UMNO Supreme Council Member Lokman Adam (who has been charged with contempt for threatening witnesses at Najib’s trial): “The previous AG Tan Sri Apandi revealed a part of his book that Gopal Sri Ram, a retired Judge, had passed on Dr Mahathir’s request that Apandi arrest and charge Najib, the PM at that time. When asked why Najib had to be arrested and charged, Gopal replied that this was to be done for no reason as many people would like it. The actions of Gopal were treacherous because they were tantamount to bringing down a legitimate government. Apandi’s revelations are serious and worry me because as soon as Dr. Mahathir became PM, he appointed Gopal Sri Ram as the prosecutor involving the cases of Najib and Rosmah. The purpose of this report is to enable the police to investigate the truth of Apandi’s statement in view of the fact that he has CCTV coverage as proof and also witnesses in support. If true, Dr, Mahathir and Gopal Sri Ram have to face justice.” [English translation] This may seem ridiculous, however Najib’s artful lawyers will doubtless concoct a tale of prejudice over which they plan to troop into their newly appointed AGs office to demand charges be dropped. Then they will hope for relative plain sailing steered by money and connections.

Najib makes new attempt to disqualify Sri Ram as prosecutor

Once ‘Bosku’ is back and distributing his stolen cash again, according to this script, charges can indeed be brought against all the people who earlier sought to bring him to book. Ideally, they will hope to achieve all this without calling Parliament at all (it has already been illegally prorogued under ’emergency’ declarations by the PM without a mandate). If necessary, they will aim for a Covid election inflamed by the racial tensions they have stoked for years to cover up their criminal activities. This move doesn’t get Najib off his SRC case, of course, which has a separate legal team or Rosmah off her cases either. However, now the ball is set rolling the legal network is already abuzz with talk of pressure being brought to bear in all directions. This was how Najib/BN operated pre-GE14 as the country knows. They think money and establishment friends will help them pull it off. Rosmah herself has set the tone, with the angry announcements emerging yesterday that her Hermes bag collection (which she has plainly been set on getting back) has been tainted by markers made by police. They are branded forever as criminal items, which might spoil it for her if she tried to sport them publicly once more. An independent police force would, of course, dismiss this discredited UMNO bigwig’s interventions. BN/PN bullies will press their case with Najib’s high stakes gamble to overturn the verdict of GE14 and cheat the rule of law. - Sarawak Report

SOP Kedai Gunting Rambut...Tapi 90% tak patuhi SOP ini

Depa pakat hentam saja,malah plastik pakai buang si pelanggan 

direcycle balik dan alat2 yang diguna tak disanitised ikut arahan...

cheers.

Sumber asal: 100 hari Din PM dapat pujian ramai kecuali UMNO,why?... Baca selebihnya di 100 hari Din PM dapat pujian ramai kecuali UMNO,why?...

[junker-town]

9 quarterbacks set to be free agents in 2020, sorted by likelihood

Tom Brady, Philip Rivers, and Marcus Mariota could all technically hit free agency in 2020.

These are the quarterback contract situations to keep an eye on this season.

The 2019 quarterback free agency class had a severe lack of star power. Even with Super Bowl MVP Nick Foles and the one and only Blake Bortles, there weren’t many click-worthy quarterbacks available at the start of the new league year. Things could be different next offseason, however.

In 2020, several marquee quarterbacks could hit the open market. In a position as important as quarterback, teams will either have to shell out some cash to keep their starters, or hit the reset button on their offense. Sometimes it’s a no-brainer, but it’s not always an easy choice to make.

Let’s take a look at the top quarterbacks currently set to be free agents after this season, though several of them will likely get new contracts before that happens. We arranged the list into tiers, from the guys least likely to leave to the ones who are most likely to find a new team.

No chance he’s leaving

Tom Brady

Fresh off another Super Bowl win, Brady is continuing his quest to keep playing until the end of time. A day after his 42nd birthday, Brady signed a two-year, $70 million extension with the New England Patriots. He will be making $23 million this upcoming season, but the contract has some interesting stipulations attached to it.

The final two years of Brady’s deal become voided after this season, hence making him a free agent next offseason. The terms of the contract free up cap space for the Patriots, which isn’t something new: Brady has been taking discount deals for a while now.

While the new contract helps New England this season, Brady carries a $13.5 million cap hit next season, whether he’s on the team or not. That means the Patriots will want to get him signed to an extension before free agency starts — not that they need the extra motivation.

In 2018, Brady didn’t show any signs of slowing down, throwing for 4,355 yards and 29 touchdowns while maintaining a completion percentage of 65.8. He’s been in New England for the entirety of his 20-year career and has delivered six championships.

Still, the structure of his contract won’t stop speculation about Brady moving on from New England, especially since he put his house up for sale:

Tom Brady and Gisele have indeed placed their Brookline home on the market for $39.5 million, I’m told. His closest property, at Silo Ridge Field Club, is nearly 3 hours from Foxboro. They also own in NYC — and reportedly have been looking in Greenwich, Ct and Alpine, NJ. (1/4)

— Jeff Darlington (@JeffDarlington) August 6, 2019

However, the chances of him leaving are cosmically small, unless he decides to retire after the season.

Drew Brees

Like Brady, Brees technically could be a free agent after this season. In fact, they have a lot in common:

Tom Brady and Drew Brees now have almost the exact same contract. Both will make $23m in 2019. Both will see the last two years of their deals automatically void on the last day of the 2019 league year (March 17). And both have No Franchise Tag clauses.

— Ben Volin (@BenVolin) August 5, 2019

And like his counterpart in New England, Brees reconstructed his contract to clear up cap space for a team that’s a Super Bowl contender. The biggest move the New Orleans Saints made was locking down Brees’ favorite target, Michael Thomas, with a massive five-year, $100 million deal right before the preseason began.

Brees is coming off another stellar season. In 2018, he led the league in both completion percentage (74.4) and passer rating (115.7), and threw for 32 touchdowns. But at 40 years old, retirement isn’t that far off for Brees.

If he keeps playing at a high level, the Saints will want to reach an agreement with Brees quickly, as he will have a cap hit of $21.3 million next year if a new deal isn’t done. They’ll need the space, too. The Saints have other major contract decisions coming up in the next two seasons — both Alvin Kamara and Marshon Lattimore will soon be due raises.

While the Saints have kept Teddy Bridgewater around as good insurance — and possibly as their next starting quarterback — it’s hard to see Brees going anywhere else as he enters the twilight of his career. Just like Brady.

Philip Rivers

Rivers is the heart and soul of the Los Angeles Chargers. In his 13th year as starting quarterback, Rivers had 4,382 passing yards, his sixth straight season with 4,000 or more. He led the Chargers to their first playoff appearance in 2013 and will make a run at the AFC West title in 2019, his final year under contract.

Extending Rivers isn’t the only contract LA has to deal with soon. Melvin Gordon has spent the summer holding out for a new deal. The contracts of safety Adrian Phillips and center Mike Pouncey expire next March too.

Rivers doesn’t seem too worried getting an extension, though. When asked about his contract situation in July, Rivers told reporters, “The expectation and hope is to be here again next year, but it doesn’t need to be done right now.”

From the look of it, there doesn’t seem too much of a rush from both sides to get this deal done. However, it would be a shock to see the Chargers move on from their longtime quarterback. He hasn’t missed a game as a starter and has settled down in Southern California with his family.

It’d be surprising if he left

Dak Prescott

Prescott finished strong in his third year as the starting quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys. After a slow start, Prescott led the Cowboys to seven wins in their last eight games and ended up with a career high in passing yards. Dallas won the NFC East and made it to the Divisional Round before falling to the Rams.

His play picked up when the Cowboys acquired receiver Amari Cooper, and with Cooper as his main wideout for at least 2019, Prescott is primed to have another good season.

Prescott has shown he has the potential to be a top-end starter in the NFL, and he remains a solid dual threat, rushing for six touchdowns in each of his three seasons in the league. He’s also a bargain for the Cowboys. This upcoming season, Prescott is only scheduled to make $2 million and unless the Cowboys give him an extension, he’ll become a free agent in 2020.

But Jerry Jones has always had high praise for Prescott and looks committed to him. There isn’t a big possibility that he lets Prescott leave Dallas, though the Cowboys are also facing a decision with Ezekiel Elliott and Cooper. Signing all three would be locking them, and their large salaries, in for the distant future. The Cowboys should be playoff contenders again this season, but have some contract negotiations they have to get in order as well.

Eli Manning

The New York Giants drafted for the future when they took Duke quarterback Daniel Jones with the sixth overall pick this year. But for the present they are going to be sticking with Eli Manning.

In 2018, Manning put up some of his best stats in years. He passed for 4,299 yards, had a career-best 66 percent completion rate, and his 11 interceptions were his lowest total since 2008. Despite that, New York still finished last in the NFC East at 5-11 and now that Manning is 38 years old, his time as QB1 for the Giants is nearing its end.

With the addition of Jones, the Giants now have a future replacement for Manning. If Manning struggles in 2019, the Giants could turn to the rookie during the season. Either way, New York is set to face an interesting quarterback situation next offseason when Manning becomes a free agent.

New York has some options here. There have been no real talks of a contract extension yet, so it seems he will be playing out this season without a new deal. It’s easy to see the Giants bringing Manning back if he plays well or if Jones shows he’s not ready to be the starter yet.

They can re-sign Manning to a short-term deal like Brees and Brady did, and then use that time to groom Jones some more. Or they can go head-first into a new era.

It’s now or never

Marcus Mariota

Last season was tough for Marcus Mariota. He missed two games and left three others due to an elbow strain and cervical neck stingers. The Tennessee Titans went 9-7 but missed out on the playoffs, losing a crucial Week 17 matchup against the Colts without Mariota. The Titans exercised Mariota’s fifth-year option last summer, so he’s under contract through 2019. But there is still doubt about Mariota’s future in Tennessee.

First off, he needs to stay healthy. In his four years in the league, Mariota has failed to put together a full 16-game season. He’s also been inconsistent — we still don’t know how good he really is. While Mariota can run the read option well and keep defenses on their toes, he hasn’t always been able to make the same plays through the air. He has a 69:42 touchdown-to-interception ratio, including a career-low 11 passing touchdowns in 2018.

The Titans added some players over the past few years to aid Mariota. They have the duo of Derrick Henry and Dion Lewis out of the backfield, and Corey Davis, Adam Humphries, and Tajae Sharpe at wideout. The pieces are there for him to lead Tennessee’s offense.

With no new deal in sight, Mariota’s in the “prove it” stage this season. The Titans traded for Ryan Tannehill, giving them a quality replacement if Mariota struggles out of the gate. If he can’t stay on the field or doesn’t make things click with this Titans offense, Mariota could find himself on a new team next year.

Jameis Winston

Winston was selected one spot ahead of Mariota in the 2015 NFL Draft and is facing a similar situation. The Tampa Bay Buccaneers picked up his fifth-year option, but there are a lot of questions surrounding his future with the team.

Winston only started nine games for Tampa Bay last season. He was suspended for the first three games due to violating the NFL’s personal conduct policy. When he returned, his play was erratic. Winston and Ryan Fitzpatrick alternated starts and snaps as the Buccaneers went 5-11, finishing last in the NFC South.

Starting only half the season affected his stats greatly. Winston passed for 2,992 yards in 2018, the first time in his career he totaled fewer than 3,000 in a season. He also threw 14 interceptions, including four in one game. With new head coach and offensive guru Bruce Arians now in Tampa, the offense should see a step up from last season. Mike Evans is still around, giving Winston a premier pass catcher.

The Bucs went mostly defense in the draft, showing a commitment to Winston for at least one more season. But this is a make-or-break year. There are also a number of prospects in next year’s draft, such as Alabama’s Tua Tagovailoa, Oregon’s Justin Herbert, and Georgia’s Jake Fromm. If things don’t start out well early, the Buccaneers could be content to tank, get a high draft pick, and take one of the top quarterbacks in the 2020 class.

Likely to be on a new team next season

Case Keenum

Keenum is currently in a training camp battle for Washington’s starting job. He, Colt McCoy, and rookie Dwayne Haskins will be trying to prove they should be the starter Week 1. But Washington doesn’t have much invested in Keenum — half of his salary this year is being paid by his former team, the Broncos.

His new team likely views Keenum as nothing more than a stopgap. Haskins was drafted to be the future at quarterback, and Alex Smith hasn’t given up hope of playing again. Next season, Keenum’s journeyman career can continue with another team in a similar situation, or he can find himself a nice backup job again.

Teddy Bridgewater

Bridgewater got his first start in three years in Week 17 last season, after the Saints were already locked into a first-round bye. It was a good chance to boost his value heading into free agency. However, he didn’t play so well filling in for Drew Brees, throwing for only 118 yards in a 33-14 loss to the Carolina Panthers. Without much interest on the open market, Bridgewater ended up re-signing with the Saints.

Though he’s technically a free agent in 2022, the last two years of the deal are voidable, like Brees’. Bridgewater is the same boat once again. He’ll be a backup this year and will try to take advantage of the opportunities given to him. Unless Brees gets injured or decides to retire, Bridgewater’s best bet could be playing for a contract from another team.

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures Episode 12: Mournimar’s No Good Very Bad Day

So hey, it’s been a few weeks, huh? We had us a bit of a week skip, but we got to the session this Wednsday 8)

So, uh, let’s get ready for some draams, yeah?!

We continue from where we left off as Belli suddenly casts Sleep on an as wide of an area as she can. As it were, only a couple of the tavern patrons fall asleep and Luctan facepalms, coming to a quick realization that they may have been rushing things a bit.

Through some quick thinking, (And a Nat 20 on Deception),the Half-Orc Bard Belli bluffs the tavern owner into believing that the two patrons, a man and a woman, were drinking fermented alcohol.

Luctan helps a man carry the bodies (and pickpockets to check for any markings that could show a connection to Potentia (but he gets 2 gold coins instead)).

Over the next 10-20 minutes the party try to perform an act so as to snoop on what’s happening behind the door over the bar, but the results are fairly mixed. There are some drinks and sweets being bought, in any case. But Mournimar does get to see a small drow boy at the door, once a trade for sweets is made.

With some subversive tactics, Belli convinces the party to attempt another stealth mission, using invisibility. She performs an act that she is displeased with a currently disguised Mournimar and splashes “Michael” with her drink, before walking out, hiding in a bush and casting the spell. Two guards stand outside, but do not get a chance to notice her doing this.

Through the combined efforts of Ficus, Kit and the rest of the party, they manage to get Belli to sneak inside the backroom of the tavern, where they had once been already.

There, the invisible Belli gets a better look at the woman, now in her true Drow form. Her name is Kah’lia and she is, indeed, Mournimar’s mother. Which would make the little boy, aged at about 7-ish? To be no more or less than 7 or 8 years of age.

It seems that Kah’lia had long since moved on from her firstborn and was now trying to start anew with this one. Whatever his name was...

Belli makes a decision to attempt the Sleep spell again.

And it works.

On the boy. And a woman standing with Kah’lia and two others.

Unfortunatelly, Belli becomes visible by this point and she tries to convince the drow woman that she is, in fact, sent by Potentia. Her and her party have come to offer their assistence, as she is not pleased with her recent performances.

This... does not go well, as Kah’lia doesn’t believe her and casts... and by the time Luctan can walk inside with a swaggering step, Belli is put in the dreaded Hold Person spell.

Luctan tries to play the part (in my mind, I was trying to make him the controlling leader figure that was tired of his minion’s shenanigans) of a cultist, but he gets held in place by another woman. 

It is at this point that Mournimar jumps over the bar and removes the ring, giving it to Amelia.

As we roll for initiative, Mournimar confronts his mother, who claims that he is not ready yet, whatever that had meant. A teary eyed ranger aims arrows at his mother as a fight breaks out both in the room and outside, with Amelia doing her best to dodge and dodging most of the Sacred Flames being sent her way.

During the battle, Burk rages and dispatches of two of the spellcasters inside, releasing Luctan from the HP spell, while Mournimar fires arrows to mixed success upon his mother.

A young blond man, with sword and shield, without explanation jumps over the bar after proclaiming his anxious curiosity over what was happening over there (all this much to Greg, the ‘tender’s shagrin)...

And Amelia makes a haunting choice as she strikes at the lad, uncertain if he’s friend or foe. She almost completely takes him out. But Ficus finishes the deed, killing this young person (whom the DM proclaimed was an innocent in all this...)

Amelia, shaken... Kit dashes inside and helps in freeing Belli from her own magical confinery, before Luctan combats the drow, applying Hellish Rebuke and degrading her cult status in Infernal. Kah’lia, however counters with a spell and strikes Luctan with halved fire damage (yay for Infernal legacy).

After a well timed strike by Luctan and the dispatch by Burk of her minions, but the sleeping woman, Kah’lia, cornered, casts Darkness on the room around them and takes her son, escaping.

Luctan can’t do much, but pull her cloak off, which he can apply later...

As guards are making their way towards the party’s location, while the tavern customers make their own escapes, we decide to leave.

Burk takes this the wrong way and makes a run the opposite way, from the front entrance, only to be confrotned by the guards and get struck multiple times in the process. As everyone else is going out from the back, Luctan, with the young man’s body over his shoulders, casts a Darkness spell of his own and clouds the vision of the Sa Doma guards, giving the heavily wounded Burk a chance to escape through the back with Morgan and Rimefang.

Luctan cases the door and follows the rest as Mournimar applies Pass Without a Trace on everyone present and with some effort they all make their way back to the Priestess of Bellinas, Nash. (With Belli applying some healing to Burk).

After a hasty explanation of what happened, Luctan begs her to help them bring the man back from the dead (he is, at this point unsure of what his role in all this was, but his neutral response is to aid in whomever gets caught in the crossfire. he will not let someone become a victim, even by the party’s own hand!) if possible.

Nash, exhasperated and panicing, explains that this is slightly above her paygrade and tells them to go get Dak, the changeling Priest in the temple of Fornas.

The Chaos Siblings (Belli, Luctan and Mournimar) make so and bring back with them a handsome Changeling man in golden robes, with jewelry and flourish to his very form.

Luctan offers his Amethist.

Then Amelia steps in, wanting to do right by the man she got in this situation and offers her Topaz as well. The gifts of Dyunificus... Hopefully they can bring him back. Luctan places an encouraging hand on her shoulder as Mournimar adds to the casting ritual, giving his old bow as an offering to the Goddess of this temple...

And the ritual begins.

The ritual is successful and the young man, shaken and scared of Amelia, awakes. Through tears, he tells her that she didn’t stop. And Amelia pours her heart out, apologizing to the young adventurer, who is having a moment of crisis, after all this happened.

He just wanted to help. And she didn’t stop. He is hearbroken. He cries. And Amelia cries.

She explains to him the circumstances, with utmost sincerety andmanages to bring the situation to some resolution.

Danton receives money from Amelia and a Potion of Wizard’s Folly from Luctan, before he gets sent away. An apology for what happened. His fate from this point on... uncertain.

As things calm down and hugs are had, Mournimar brings attention to the tarrasque in the room. And they plan. Suggestions are made and refuted, ideas presented.

A couple of the steps are certain: Check back at the tavern for a trail that could have been left, as well as use the contacts they could have available, through Ficus and Kit to discern the location of Kah’lia and the boy.

One thing’s for certain, they’ll be in hiding for the time being. And another thing is also certain: The party needs to play things smart now, given the situation that transpired.

AND MONE MORE THING: Mournimar has decided. He definitely must save the child from Kah’lia. He must rescue... his little brother.

After a good long sleep, with Amelia noticing that Luctan woke up before the rest (he got to do some more reading from the book  “ Handerstaad “) the party wake up, back to their old strength. And beyond.

Because the five protagonists of this story had reached an advancement in their abilities.

And through their expriences, Mournimar has learned some about how to handle himself in the shadows (as he multiclasses into Rogue).

Previous Episode / Next episode

[emperorsfoot]

Dak in this chapter:

“I’m telling mom!”

...

Hordak stared at the painting.

He did not understand how it could be in two places at once.

He was sure he had passed this painting before. This was not the first time he thought this. So sure was he, in fact, that he scratched the wall with his talons last time he passed the other painting to mark the spot. This painting did not have any such scratches in the wall next to it. That could only mean one thing. Entrapta had two copies of the same painting, had hung them in two different parts of the Crypto Castle, and he was not where he thought he was.

Hordak was lost.

Standing there in the dimly lit corridor, Hordak glared at the painting as if it had personally offended him.

A depiction of mammal. It vaguely resembled a flerken, but with large and oversized eyes which Hordak imagined were meant to make it appear to be ‘cuter’ or more ‘adorable’. It was rendered in shades of fuchsias and violets, popular colors here in Dryl. If Lord Hode were standing here, analyzing the painting with him, the old clone would say the color choices implied that the artist was one native to this territory and not from another Princess’s Queendom. Or, perhaps, that the piece was a commission by the Princess and the painter used her preferred color pallet.

Hordak didn’t know. In all honesty he didn’t care. Hode was the one who fixated on art. To spite his mentor’s multiple attempts, Hordak never acquired the taste.

He just wanted to get to the lab to do some routine maintenance on his exo-suit.

Only, he couldn’t get to the lab because he was not in the part of the castle he thought he was in. Which meant he was not heading in the direction he thought he was going.

How did one even navigate the Crypto Castle?

Fingers curling into a fist, Hordak dealt a frustrated punch to the wall next to the frame of the painting. There was a pattern of spider-web cracks in the wall when he pulled his fist away.

“Feel better?”

Hordak turned at the sound of the voice. A voice like any of his cloned brothers, a voice like his own, but younger. Less mature. Higher in pitch and shallower in timbre. A child’s voice.

But the clone child was not standing behind him when he turned around.

Hordak looked up.

Hanging upside-down from an open vent in the ceiling was the speaker. Face identical to Hordak’s own. Or, rather, identical to how Hordak’s face must have looked when he was still growing in the tank. A square chin and round forehead. High cheekbones that aligned seamlessly with pointed ears. A vertical nasal cavity in place of a nose. But the cheeks were fuller, rounder than Hordak’s own. Filled out with what Baker called ‘baby fat’, although this creature was not a baby. The eyes were also a different color. They were still solid sclera without pupils and glowed with bioluminescentce. But where Hordak’s eyes were a ruby-red, a primary red, this child-creature’s eyes were more of a bright fuchsia –the same color as Entrapta’s eyes.

This creature was not a true clone. They were not an exact copy of Hordak. All of Hordak’s own attempts to clone a new body for himself failed.

This creature was created by Entrapta. She took the basic idea of ‘cloning a new body’ but went the extra step and analyzed the DNA before reproducing it. She cut out the damaged segments of the sequence, the parts of the code that caused Hordak’s ‘defects’ and replaced them with coding from her own –healthy- DNA to fill in the holes. In short, instead of making a clone, Entrapta built a genetic hybrid of the both of them.

The hybrid was never meant to achieve sentience of its own. It was never even meant to be conscious before Hordak’s mind was transferred into it.

But Scorpia let them out of the cloning tank too soon. The body was not fully mature, still very much a child’s body, not an adult as was the original intention. And the moment they woke up, they began to learn. To form thoughts and opinions and an identity all their own. If Entrapta tried to place Hordak’s mind in the hybrid’s body now, it would not work. There wasn’t space for two people in the same head. The brain would suffer a traumatic stoke and the body would die –killing both Hordak and the young hybrid with it.

So, they were stuck.

Hordak, as he was. Still in his same ‘defective’ body that was slowly degenerating. Dak –short for Hordak Second of the Name- as they were, unsure of their place in the world, wanting to form connections with the people who’s genes formed them, but unsure how.

“How long have you been following me?” Hordak demanded of the hybrid.

“Not following.” The hybrid shook their head. They lowered themself down from the vent in the ceiling, slithering on long strands of prehensile hair. Another trait inherited from Entrapta’s side of the gene pool. It looked like Hordak’s hair in color and texture. It was blue and coarse, only growing out the head in a narrow mohawk down the center. But it was long and thick. As long as the hybrid was tall, and equally as strong and versatile as Entrapta’s twin-tails. “Looking for. You’re late for your check-up. Mother put me in charge of the maintenance of your tech-parts while she and Scorpia are in Brightmoon.”

Hordak glared down at the composite creature. Not a true clone, not a brother. But unsure what else to categorize them as. Scorpia called Dak his ‘child’. The remnant of Horde forces that remained in Dryl called them his ‘heir’. The hybrid referred to Entrapta as ‘Mother’ and she made no attempts to dissuade the creature from doing this. But… they did not call Hordak ‘father’. The Horde did not have ‘fathers’. The clones of the Imperial Horde –the real Horde- did not have ‘children’ either. They were all brothers.

But this creature was not a brother.

This creature was… unacceptable.

Horde Prime would view them as unacceptable.

Hordak was glad Scorpia released them from their tank early. Hordak did not want to return to his Brother in the body of this… mongrel.

“I do not require your assistance to perform routine maintenance on my own exo-suit.” He informed the child.

A squawk of disagreement was heard from the vent the hybrid just vacated and Imp flapped out, circling in the air between the two. He opened his mouth wide and repeated, ‘You’re late.’

Dak only smirked at the older Hordak. “Don’t need help with your armor, but you do need help.”

Hordak opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was an angry snarl. He loomed over the child, shoulders arched, fingers spread, talons extended, crimson teeth exposed. Had this been the Fright Zone, and Dak one of his Force Captains, Hordak was sure the younger would have found him utterly terrifying. They would have crumpled in abject horror and begged the Hoard Lord to be merciful.

But this was not the Fright Zone. This was Dryl, Entrapta’s home territory and sovereign Queendom. Hordak was not ruler here. Dak was not one of Hordak’s Force Captains, they were not an underling. They were half of Hordak’s own species. They also had wide shoulders, and sharp talons, and could make feral, animalistic sounds with their throat. They did not crumple in abject terror.

Dak just gave the older Hordak an unimpressed frown. “Does that make you feel better?”

It was all Hordak could do to sputter at the hybrid. He had been living in Dryl for several months now, he had been living with this creature for several months now, and he still hadn’t figured out how to… interact with them. Dak did not give the reactions Hordak was used to receiving from other beings. The hybrid was rather like Entrapta in this regard. But while Entrapta scoffing and brushing off his attempts at intimidation was endearing, this mongrel child was only infuriating.

“It probably didn’t make you feel better, did it.” Dak continued. They held up a datapad. After a moment’s examination of the readouts it displayed, Hordak realized it was statistics on himself. One of the previous upgrades Entrapta made to his armor after they arrived from the Crimson Wastes was a feature that transmitted bio-data from his exo-suit to Entrapta’s main computer in her lab, a computer that was synced to the datapad the mongrel held. “Increased heart rate, shallow breathing. Getting excited and shouting –or snarling- is not what you want to do before your armor has the chance to be serviced.”

Unbidden, the memory of himself yelling at Entrapta then immediately passing out flashed through his mind. But by the bloody spears of the All High Host! Hordak was not about to admit to this composite creature that they might have a point.

“If you have taken it upon yourself to guide me through this absurd labyrinth, then do so silently.” He commanded the child. “I do not desire a lecture from one who does not have either the experience nor the programming to know what they are talking about.”

Since the intention was to have a blank body for Hordak, Entrapta never gave Dak any kind of programing in the tank. When they emerged, the hybrid could not even feed or toilet themself. They were only one month older than the amount of time Hordak had lived in Dryl. Dak had not had the opportunity or time to have many life experiences.

They were young, and with that youth came inexperience.

Dak sighed. Shrugging with their hair as well as their shoulders. “Follow.”

The hybrid began walking without even making sure that Hordak was indeed following them. Imp fluttered down to perch in the young clone’s hair and chittered at him to hurry up, or else he would get left behind and lost again.

Bearing his teeth in frustration, Hordak glared at the tiny deamon. He and Imp had been together since they first arrived on Etheria. They were pulled through the portal together all those years ago. How dare he side with this new clone over him!

With nothing else to do, Hordak fell into step behind Dak, glaring daggers at Imp’s satisfied grin.

The rout the hybrid lead him on was winding and confusing. It was not the same sequence of corridors Hordak took to the lab the last time he was there. At every turn, he paused to scratch the wall with his talons, marking the path with arrows. This was not the first time he tried doing this, but –somehow- all his marks would disappear by the next time he tried to navigate his way to the lab. It was at the point now that Hordak was starting to wonder if the Crypto Castle’s rooms and corridors moved and changed.

But that was absurd. If the Crypto Castle did that, surely Entrapta would have warned him.

Either that, or there was a small army of bots that prowled the corridors buffing and repairing the walls, erasing his marks.

Hordak wasn’t sure which explanation was more likely. This was Entrapta’s home, after all.

Finally, Dak stopped in front of a door and punched a code into the key pad with their hair. “It’s nice that Mother gave me the access code so that I don’t have to keep breaking into the Locked Room anymore.”

‘Lab’ Imp corrected with a recording of Entrapta’s voice.

The door slid open.

Entrapta’s lab was a disorderly mess. Not that his own Sanctum back in the Fright Zone had been much better. But that had been his mess, then, later, their mess. This mess was her mess and… the mongrel’s mess.

There was a pile of First Ones crystal fragments strewn over one worktable. That would be Entrapta’s mess. Anything First Ones tech related was hers. Against a far wall of the lab, a partially constructed –or deconstructed- humanoid bot slumped. That would be the mongrel’s mess. They were still studying basic structures, gears and joints, pistons and belts, simple circuitry and basic functions.

Hordak did not have a mess in the lab. Hordak did not have any on-going projects. His only really significant project had been the portal. That was over and done with. Now he was focusing on his own body. When he returned to his Brother’s side, he would be expected to perform no differently than any other clone trooper. Warrior trained. Strong. Quick. Agile. Skilled. Fearsome. Capable.

To that end, Entrapta –or, at the moment, Dak- were giving his exo-suit regular tune-ups. Slowly increasing his strength, enhancing his agility, improving reaction times. Trying to return him to the level of physical ability he used to enjoy back when he was a young clone, before his defects presented themselves. Even after they presented but hadn’t advanced and spread quite so much would be acceptable. Hordak performed admirably for many years after the physical limitations of his defects made themselves known. Of course, he had Hode’s help in that. Hordak never did learn why his mentor didn’t just kill him outright when the older man learned of his failings. Hode didn’t just not-kill him, Hode helped him conceal his condition.

Dak set the datapad with Hordak’s pulse and respiratory statistics down on a consol. The screen faired to life and the data that was on the small pad was now projected onto the larger monitor.

If it were Entrapta, she would have whisked him off his feet by now. Used her hair to lift, carry, and position him in a space in the lab where she could do non-invasive scans of his body and the armor, before setting her machines to dismantle it and put it back together. Dak, was not Entrapta, however. They did not feel the same level of ease with Hordak that allowed Entrapta to utterly disregard the concept of ‘personal space’, and Hordak did not trust the hybrid clone enough to allow them to manhandle him around the lab.

Perching on their hair, turned at a bit of an angle so they could see both the monitor and Hordak at the same time, Dak pointed to an empty space. “Stand there.”

Bearing his teeth again, Hordak did not move. “You do not command me, Mongrel.”

The hybrid only frowned. They were probably getting used to people in Dryl doing what they said. As far as any citizen or resident of Dryl understood, Hordak Second of the Name was Princess Entrapta’s child and heir. The kitchen staff treated Dak as if they were a young Princess being groomed to take over their mother’s Queendom. The occupying Horde forces that remained in Dryl differed to Dak as if they were Hordak’s heir and future Lord of the Horde (although there was now a division between the Fright Zone Etherian Hoard, and the Dryl Etherian Hoard, but that was not relevant at the moment). Fact of the matter, people in the Crypto Castle, or around the territory obeyed the hybrid as they would any other future monarch.

But they were not Hordak’s monarch. They were not Hordak’s commanding officer. They weren’t even a proper brother.

There was a beat of a pause as the two clones glared at each other.

If the roles were reversed and it was Dak refusing to follow an order that Hordak gave, the latter would be looming over the former. Snarling with fangs out. Trying to intimidate the other into compliance.

But Dak did not seem to have inherited Hordak’s temper. Instead, they held the older one’s eyes for a moment, luminous fuchsia meeting glowing ruby, before pressing a button on the consol. The word ‘Connecting…’ scrolled across the screen and Hordak felt something akin to apprehension bubble in his stomach.

“I will call Mother in Brightmoon and explain to her that your armor will not get its scheduled service.” Dak announced.

Before Hordak had the opportunity to object, or to insist that he could service his own exo-suit, the call connected and the screen filled with the image of Entrapta’s face.

She was holding something that looked suspiciously like half a casing of an emitter for a particle beam in her hair. Face smeared with grease. Shirt sporting new stains. But her mask was up and she looked enthusiastic. “Oh? Hey, guys! You need something?”

Before either of them could answer, she was distracted by someone off screen.

“Wait? No, no.” The frame tilted as she turned to whomever was off screen. She must be holding the communications pad in her hair. “It’s not gonna fire a laser. The laser is only for targeting. It’s a particle beam, but particle beams are invisible, so the laser is so you know what you’re shooting at. You see,-“ she then launched into an explanation of how particle beams worked, what the ‘particles’ were, why the beam was invisible to the naked eye, and speaking of eyes you shouldn’t look directly into lasers either, here’s why on that too. It was only after these info-dumps were completed that she remembered she was still on a call from home. “Something come back wrong with Hordak’s exo-suit? Maybe I can trouble shoot it from here. Describe the malfunction.”

“Haven’t started yet.” Dak announced.

Entrapta frowned. “Regular maintenance is not something that should be put off.”

The hybrid flashed one more look back at Hordak before turning back to their ‘Mother’ on the screen. Dak opened their mouth to tattle tale that Hordak was not cooperating.

But the older one cut them off before any tattles could be told. “Your clone is perfectly capable, Entrapta.” Hordak announced. The mongrel was certainly ‘competent’ enough to be ‘capable’. “They merely wished to notify you that everything is proceeding as per your instruction and there is nothing to worry about.”

“Oh. Okay.” Entrapta hadn’t been worried. There was an awkward pause in which she just blinked at the screen as if not sure what was supposed to happen now. Social convention and ‘phone etiquette’ were both on the list of ‘Thing Entrapta Does not Understand and Is Not Good At’. “So… How was your day…?”

“We do not have to exchange pleasantries if you do not wish to.” Hordak informed her.

“Great!” Entrapta ended the call without any goodbyes.

The main monitor screen went blank for a moment before Hordak’s bio-stat readouts reappeared.

Hordak fixed the hybrid with an angry glare. “It was not necessary to call her.”

Dak met his angry glare with a mocking smirk. “But I am just a mongrel that cannot command you.”

From somewhere above them, Imp laughed. Although, it was a little unclear just what –or whom- he was laughing at. The little deamon seemed to find the antics of the two clones very, very amusing.

“Now, stand there.” Dak pointed.

This time, Hordak complied. He crossed the space to where the mongrel indicated. In front of the main monitor array, but slightly to the side. Bellow a medical array that was looted from the First Ones ship in the Crimson Waste. It was the same highly advanced medical equipment that saved his life so many months ago after a fight with Catra that left him bleeding out with his jugular cut open.

Hordak would have died –in fact, he did die. Hordak was ‘mostly dead’ for several minutes. Scorpia and the rebels that accompanied Entrapta were ready to leave him as he was. Dead.

But Entrapta insisted that ‘mostly dead’ meant still partly alive. She insisted in saving his life.

And with the help of the highly advanced First Ones tech, she did save his life!

The First Ones tech knitting synthetic tissues into his wounds to repair the damage his defects prevented his body from doing on its own. Then grafting equally synthetic skin over the repaired tissues to close the wounds.

The artificial tissues and skin left him with very striking scars. Bright violet. Almost the same color as the First Ones crystal at his throat. Four vertical lines slicing down his face from forehead to chin where Catra had scratched him in their fight. It was only by the grace of the Host that she hadn’t gotten his eye! Horizontal slashes across the side of his neck where she had opened his jugular, the wound that had killed him. All of them an inorganic looking shade of bright violet that made a bold contrast compared to the paleness of his face, or the dark blue-gray of his throat.

Hordak did not enjoy looking in the mirror anymore. When he did return home, Horde Prime would see the scars first and his Little Brother second. That wasn’t just a fear, if was something Hordak knew in his bones.

Yet, he didn’t consider not returning back to Prime’s side. Not even for a moment.

[jungkookienoona]

The Meme and His Tutor

Part 3: The Time The Lesson Was Slightly More Prepared

Recommended Song: Blanket Kick by BTS

|All Chapters|

Summary:

Now that a weekly session schedule had been agreed on you had time to prepare something. You soon find that things tend to go off course when dealing with the Golden Maknae.

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2335

Length: 3/?

You had handmade flashcards for your second video call with Jungkook. The call that would be your first attempt at teaching. Ever. Though you had to admit; they were badly drawn. Animals had never been your strong point.

You had made sure you looked more presentable for the first lesson. After the first call, you had promised yourself that you would never be caught off guard and seen in that god awful state again. You ran a hand through your hair, tucking a stray piece behind your ear as you admired yourself in the reflective surface of your laptop screen. You were wearing a navy blue button up shirt, sleeves rolled up, that contrasted nicely with your skin tone. It was tucked into black denim shorts as the weather had been hotter than usual that day, and as you were home you had decided to go barefoot, appreciating the feel of the cold tiles under your feet.

At precisely 9pm KST your Skype alerted you to an incoming video call request. It was Jungkook and Namjoon.

From what you could see Namjoon was wearing a white button down short sleeve shirt with black slacks, whereas Jungkook was wearing a plain black tee and ripped jeans.

“Annyeonghaseyo Namjoon-oppa. Annyeong Jungkook-ah,” you said, waving with a small shy grin. “Annyeong Y/n” “Annyeonghaseyo Noona” Namjoon and Jungkook replied in unison.

They had a very brief discussion before Namjoon turned his attention to you, “So what will you be teaching Jungkook today?”

You fiddled with an earring, a tad self-conscious, “I was thinking we could do animals to start with. I made some flashcards.”

Namjoon smiled and explained your planned activity to Jungkook. Jungkook looked to you and smiled before giving you a thumbs up to say he understood.

You held up the first card, "Cat."

"Cat? Mouse!"

"No, cat!"

"That mouse. This cat." He then got out a notepad and started drawing. When he was satisfied with his little art piece, he turned it to the camera. You had to admit that after seeing his, yours did indeed look like a rodent.

"Shut up I'm better at digital art and saram (people)"

"I see?"

"My art?"

"Ye!"

"Uuuuh..." You remembered that most of your artwork was of him, "Aniya. Uuuuh... nae art maejuda (fugly)"

He brought his hands to a prayer position and pouted. "Please, Noona!"

Namjoon laughed at him, but didn't look up from his laptop where he was typing a vocab list for you.

"Aniya."

"Please!" He said in perfect English and you wavered.

"Fine." Jungkook clapped in happiness at you giving in.

You looked through your files and tried to find a picture you were most proud of which happened to be a picture of him you drew during Fire era.

"Ah, Jungkookie. It's you!" Namjoon shoved the younger's shoulder.

You minimised the folder of artwork and was immediately filled with regret. If Namjoon was excited by the art, Jungkook was whatever the opposite was. He squinted at the screen, brows pinched together and lips pressed into a firm line. He didn't like.

Shit.

"I know it's not that good, but-"

"Y/n," Jungkook said, using your name for the first time all Skype session. Namjoon quickly said something but Jungkook held up his hand as if to say 'hold that thought'. "Y/n. Joa (It's good). Naneun yeppeoyo."

You blushed.

"Kamsahamnida." You said quietly.

Jungkook seemed to want to say something else, his mouth opening then snapping shut.

"Kookie?" Namjoon prompted, nudging him lightly.

The younger blinked himself out of a daze and sat back in his chair. "Can I...have?" He added something quietly to Namjoon who translated:

"Can he print it?"  

You were shook for a moment. Jeon Jungkook wanted a print of your fanart. HE wanted YOUR fanart!

"Uuuuuuh..."

"You say that a lot don't you" Namjoon commented.

You slowly nodded.

"Is that a yes to Kookie, or a yes to me?"

"Both" You sent them a higher resolution version of your art. Jungkook thanked you and said he saved it to his phone.

"So...back to cat?" Namjoon suggested.

"Ah, now we're going to try matching the names to the pictures."

Jungkook held up a printed worksheet, some of the spaces filled in already.

"Good! Keep going."

Within a few minutes the sheet was completed and after a check with Namjoon they moved on. You complimented him on his fast learning, in turn he said something to Namjoon.

"He said he's motivated to learn faster so he can talk to you easier."

You and Jungkook both blushed.

"Me too. It's surprising how much I'm picking up just from talking to you two."

Namjoon smiled, picking up a mug and cradling it in his hands. "That's how I liked to learn. In school I would sit with my English teacher during lunch and just talk to her. It helped my grammar."

"And you have excellent grammar." You joked causing Namjoon to laugh and Jungkook to wave a hand in front of the screen.

"Noona! Help me!"

"Ah, sorry Kookie!"

As soon as you realised that you had just called Jungkook 'Kookie' for the first time your eyes widened in shock and you felt yourself begin to resemble a tomato. You then cleared your throat when you noticed Jungkook's smug smirk.

You gulped and attempted to move the conversation swiftly onwards. "How about I read out a word and you draw a picture of what you think it means? I'll only say words you've learnt today."

Namjoon relayed your message to Jungkook.

"Okay." He nodded and grabbed a pen, removing the cap with his teeth.

"First one, sheep."

He repeated the word before looking down at his paper. A few seconds later he held it up to show a very fluffy sheep.

"Good!"

He grinned.

"Next one is chicken."

He drew quickly, holding up a cartoon-like picture. "Dak...chicken."

You continued until you had completed your list.

"Okay, I think we're finished." You said, moving to reorganise your cluttered desk. "Is there anything else you would like to know?"

You heard Jungkook nervously murmuring something to Namjoon as he twiddled his fingers. Namjoon chuckled.

"He's wants to know if you like anime."

"I don't like anime..." you witnessed Jungkook's face fall, "I LOVE IT! My favourite is Hellsing Ultimate but my second favourite is Black Butler." You said with a grin.

"Cool! I anime like too!" He said, "Attack on Titan?"

You nodded, who didn't like Attack on Titan?

At your response, Jungkook turned to Namjoon. "Noona cool, Hyung."

Namjoon laughed before focusing on you, "How about we test your Korean? Jungkook will hold up one of his animal drawings and you'll say what it is"

You nodded to show you understood. He quickly explained what you were going to do to Jungkook who wasted no time in holding up the first picture. It was a dog.

"Gae."

Next was a rabbit.

"Tokki."

Mouse.

"Jwi."

A short while later you completed the set of cards, stumbling once when you suddenly forgot the word for penguin. Jungkook gave you a thumbs up.

"We're good!" You agreed. "So what's next, Namjoon?"

"Can you count?"

"Sino-Korean system or Native-Korean system?"

"Either"

"I can count to 10,000 in Sino-Korean, but I can only count to 6 in Native-Korean."

He looked briefly impressed. "Then we'll work on that."

Namjoon turned to Jungkook, gesturing to something on the desk in front.

He cast a wary eye at the camera, then looked down at what was on the desk and, clearing his throat, said, "Uh, you write...Sino-Korean one to twenty..." He looked at Namjoon who nodded encouragingly. "Next to Native-Korean... we do... together." You figured Namjoon had written Jungkook a short script of sorts.

You ducked your head and resisted the urge to squeal.

"Okay."

You did as instructed and looked up when you had completed the first column.

"Good, that good. Noona quick learner."

You blushed and scratched the back of your neck, feeling a tad awkward at the praise.

"Kamsahamnida." You said quietly.

Namjoon clapped his hands suddenly, getting fully involved in his role as tutor. "Take a break?"

“Sure.”

You grabbed the bar of chocolate that was sitting next to your drink and unwrapped it.

"Gwenchanha Noona?"

"Eung, jal jinae (Yeah, I'm fine). Neon? (You?)"

"I’m good. Haengbok (Happy)."

"Joa (Good)."

He grinned at you which you mimicked before eating your chocolate.

"Did you have dance practice today?"

"Aniya. Vocal."

"What songs?"

Jungkook looked down awkwardly before clearing his throat and looking up at you through his eyelashes. He started singing his part in Lost. You had to stop yourself from squealing, willing yourself to just relax and listen. You closed your eyes as you listened and found yourself swaying to the sound of his voice. When he finished, you reopened your eyes and saw that Namjoon had been watching Jungkook sing. Whereas Jungkook appeared to have been watching you the entire time.

"Jungkook-i daebak (Jungkook is awesome)." You said.

Jungkook bowed slightly to you. "Thank you."

Namjoon ruffled the boy’s hair. "Ah, Jungkookie is blushing."

"HYUNG!" He spared you a look.

You were still slightly dazed from having Jungkook sing to you.

"Cute."

"Aniya-"

"We're not doing this again," Namjoon said to you, cutting Jungkook off.

"Well, there's no denying that he's cute."

"Naneun namja. Namjaneun gwiyeobji anhda. (I am a man. Men aren't cute.)"

"Hajiman Jimin-oppawa Hobi-oppaneun gwiyeobge bulligo sipeoyo (But Jimin-oppa and Hobi-oppa like to be called cute)."

Jungkook began grumbling under his breath and Namjoon smirked, "She has you there Kook."

He turned away, tonguing the inside of his left cheek. Namjoon glanced at you, then smacked Jungkook on his shoulder, saying something too low for you to hear. Jungkook's lips quirked into a smile when Namjoon nodded towards you. When the younger spoke next, there was a faint smile on his lips.

"Noona, more work?"

You looked at your notebook. "Sure, Kookie."

You looked through your notebook to see what you could do. "Let's work on translation, sentence structure and grammar. Simple sentences of course. Nothing too complex."

Namjoon relayed the message to Jungkook who held up his pen as if to say he was ready. You read an activity from the textbook, Namjoon explaining a few details to Jungkook here and there. Time passed with idle chit chat between you and Namjoon until you deemed it had been long enough.

"Let's see what you've done, hold up your pad."

Jungkook did as you said.

"Namjoon, can you take his notepad and correct the errors in sentences 3 to 7 and 9 to 11. You may need to explain to him what he got wrong. It's just a few grammatical errors."  

Namjoon nodded then did as you asked, explaining his corrections to Jungkook who made sounds of understanding every now and then. After changing his answers, he showed you his notebook proudly.

"Good job Kookie!"

"Noona good seonsaeng-nim." Jungkook said, lowering his notebook.

"Noona IS A good TEACHER." You corrected, earning yourself a shy smile.

"Smart and pretty. Lucky Kookie." Jungkook muttered, loud enough to be picked up from the Web Cam.

You blushed then giggled at the fact Jungkook had referred to himself in the third person. How could he be so cute off stage yet on stage he was the ultimate temptation (for you and other JK stans at least)? He seemed to realise he had been heard and looked down, scratching behind his neck, becoming awkward and shy.

"I'm the lucky one. It's not every day a fangirl gets to talk to her idol weekly."

He looked up meekly, "Because you're special."

You wanted to kick and scream. Were you even alive? Were you dreaming? A small squeal slipped from your lips before you could help yourself. You slapped a hand over your mouth.

"Aww." Namjoon said, his dimples showing.

This time it was Jungkook's turn to slap a shoulder.

"Ow!"

"No, no, we study."

"Am I not allowed to find her cute?" Namjoon asked.

Jungkook slapped him again "Study!"

You heard Namjoon mutter "Disrespectful little shit". You wondered if every lesson would end up with Jungkook hitting his hyungs for some reason or another. You really couldn't understand why he felt the need to his abuse his hyungs but according to interviews it's something he did regularly so you saw no need to question it. There was a reason he was the evil maknae as well as the golden one.

"Okay, we'll do one more exercise and then you guys should get some sleep." Jungkook checked his watch and frowned. "Okay, I'll test you on what we've done so far today."

You quickly typed up a quiz and sent it to them over the messenger. The very first instruction was for Namjoon to translate the quiz into Korean so Jungkook could understand it. The next was for Jungkook to answer all the questions in English. It took a moment for Namjoon to translate, and about 15 minutes for Jungkook to complete the quiz, now and then scratching his head as he thought about certain answers.

Passing with flying colours, Jungkook did a little victory dance and even high-fived the camera which you returned.

You, too, answered a small test with few mistakes. It was surprising how much you found yourself learning from the lesson. Whether it was because having Jungkook and Namjoon sit there encouraging you was helpful, or the fact that it inspired you to work hard so you were prepared for uni, it didn't matter. You were enjoying yourself.

"We should be heading to bed now. Thank you for today's lesson."

"No problem! Thank you for teaching me Namjoon."

Jungkook got up out of his seat and bowed, "Kamsahamnida Y/n-seonsaengnim"

"No need to be so formal, Jungkook-ah"

"See you next week!"

The call ended, and you stretched in your seat before deciding to grab some lunch after a productive start to your afternoon. Time to find your shoes.

[ramonsouzagarcia-blog]

La Grande Belleza

  La Grande Belleza (An Interpretation)

I first saw La Grande Belleza in the wee hours of the morning. It ended just as a hazy dawn began to illuminate the sky outside my bedroom window. I lay in a numb silence, the closing lines of the film echoing in my head. I felt...strange. The feeling was surreal....

This is how it always ends…in death.

But first, there was a life hidden beneath all the bla bla bla….

Everything is covered beneath the frivolity and the noise,

the silence and the sorrow,

the emotion and the fear…

the gaunt, inconstant flashes of beauty,

the decay,

the misfortune,

and wretched humanity...

all buried under the blanket of the embarrassment of being in the world bla bla bla…

It had been a long time since a film had moved me in this way. I pulled the curtains closed to keep the room dark. I didn’t want the sun up just yet. The film was pregnant with a metaphysics waiting to be solved and translated.

There are stories that are simple, where the plot is the whole story. Then there are stories that run deep, and play on multiple themes and manifold layers of truth. Films like these are not so neatly comprehended in a “once and for all, I know what it’s trying to say” sort of way. Here was a film that compelled repeated viewing.

La Grande Belleza is an experience of enormous proportions—not only in terms of thematic breadth but, more importantly, in terms of a profound depth. The film is a whirlpool that catches you on the surface and then drags you violently down to a subterranean netherworld…

 “Everything is covered beneath the frivolity and the noise….”

 A perceptive viewer, seeing the film for the first time, will be cued, early in the film, to switch on multiple lenses, to pay attention, to open one’s mind and one’s…intuition, to open wide because more than just a plot is playing out.

If there is anything to be said that is emblematic of director Paolo Sorrentino, it is his visual style. Camera movement will be the first thing a Sorrentino neophyte will notice. The camera opens and pans through scenes with artful elegance. The composition of each shot is painstakingly art-directed and planned. The frames that unfold are cinematic art-scapes of wide vistas and frescoes... and intense, intimate portraits.

But that is just the first, most discernible, aspect of the film. Sorrentino is a master of sound design. He is able to convey mood and message through a careful selection of musical scores from various artists. In La Grande Belleza, he uses music to mark and bucket different themes together, such that it becomes possible to divine the director’s intent, even as these scenes are spread out through the film.

And then, there is the writing. It is excellent. I am unfortunately not able to speak Italian, and it is likely that the original version is much more beautifully written. The Spanish translation, however, is superior to the English version. There is a poetic rhythm that is not captured in English. But I digress….

The surface story is about a man, Jep Gambardella, who has just turned 65. From a quiet, less than cosmopolitan background, he is now a prince of the social scene. He knows all the important people, and they know him…. Indeed even the Cardinal, and most likely successor to the Chair of St. Peter, is honored to be a dinner guest at Jep’s home.

“When I came to Rome, at the age of 26,” he says, “I fell quite swiftly, without even realizing it, into what might be defined as the whirlpool of the high life. But I didn’t just want to live on the fast lane; I wanted to be the King of the high life. And of course, I succeeded. I didn’t just want to attend all the parties, I wanted to have the power to make them fail!”

"Cuando llegé a Roma a los veinte-seis años, me precipité demasiado rápido, apenas sin darme cuenta, a aquello que se puede definir como el remolino de la mundanidad. Pero yo no quería ser simplemente un hombre mundano. Quería ser el rey de la mundanidad. Y desde luego, lo conseguí. No sólo quería participar en todas las fiestas, quería tener el poder de hacerlas fracasar!”

Indeed, Jep is presented to the audience, for the first time, at the party of parties! It is after all the king’s birthday, Jep’s 65th. All of the beautiful people are in attendance. And Jep appears quite at ease in his court, waving to well-wishers and dancing the Colita. But it is also here, at the pinnacle of this epic party, that Jep steps out of the cola, and, in one sweeping, surreal moment, he stands before us… unmasked.    

“To this question, as kids, my friends always gave the same answer: ‘Pussy’. Whereas I answered "The smell of old people's houses". The question was "What do you really like the most in life?" I was destined for sensibility. I was destined to become a writer. I was destined to become Jep Gambardella.”  

“De pequeños, a esta pregunta mis amigos daban siempre la misma respuesta… ‘El coño’. Pero yo respondía: “El olor de las casas de viejos”. La pregunta era: ¿Qué es lo que realmente te gusta más en la vida? Estaba destinado a la sensibilidad. Estaba destinado a convertirme en escritor. Estaba destinado a convertirme en Jep Gambardella.”

So soon in the film, it appears as if the cat is out of the bag… the inner tension of the story lying exposed.  Is this a mere story about a man who’s sold himself out? A man destined for deep sensibility, a magnificent writer whose first book was a national treasure, suddenly reduced to a pop art critic…a king of noise and mindless chatter… the king of the pointless bla bla bla of the mediocre…  

And yet, almost as one begins to lose interest, one begins to detect a thematic undercurrent running in parallel. There is a scene that cuts into the film, disjointed and with no relation to its trajectory. Almost as if in a dream, a mother is looking for her child. “Have you seen my daughter”, she asks Jep. We see this from Jep’s point of view. The mother steps away from the camera and reveals a crypt behind her. The music cues surrealism. The camera moves slowly towards the crypt, enters it, and switches to the third person perspective.

We see Jep inside… and we hear a child’s voice, “Who are you”, the child asks Jep… the voice emanating from a pit in the center of the crypt. The child is apparently standing underneath, looking up from the dakness at Jep. “Who am I,” Jep replies…. “I am…” he stammers. The child’s voice interrupts him and says, “No! You are no one.”  

The film begins to feel, from this point onwards, like a labyrinth of images. Sorrentino opens a door for us, and we are invited to start seeing from a very different perspective. We begin stitching and connecting images and scenes. We are now creating meaning. The film is a looking glass, and one will bring to it, and derive from it, one’s own interpretation and insight....  

On the days following his 65th birthday, Jep begins to experience a sense of estrangement, a feeling of being disjointed, and somehow suddenly disconnected from his milieu--from his socialite friends, from his work, from the frenzy of his parties. Some hidden turmoil comes bubbling up from deep within his spirit.

As he walks home from his big birthday party celebration, we see, for the first time, an image of nuns- one young novice, in particular, is staring at Jep. A carved stone head of a fountain inter-cuts the scene momentarily, its eyes penetrating, as water from some underground aqueduct gushes out of its mouth.

The images of nuns are replete throughout the film, and I believe that this image is a vital clue to understanding the film....

Jep is lying in a hammock on his porch across the coliseum, a glass of scotch in hand, when he hears children laughing and giggling in the distance. He stands and gazes down at the courtyard of a nearby convent, where he sees nuns playing with the little children. Jep is visibly moved. This is the first time Robert Burns’ song plays... (and it will play again, marking scenes that seek to convey Jep’s uprooted nature-- his enigmatic longing for some distant time, for some special place buried within his soul.)

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,

My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer....

When Jep hears the news of the death of his first love, broken to him by the shallow simpleton who married her, we glimpse nuns walking in the rain, as they pass both men by  in their moment of mutual consolation. This entire sequence of morbid discovery and desolation is abruptly interrupted by a nun laughing like an idiot, as though some darkly intended ridicule is hurled up at Jep through some crack in the veil of Maya (in the Vedic sense). For a moment, Jep’s self-composed world of illusion is shattered by the stark, sharp indifference of nature.

Indeed, as the film approaches its resolution, Jep has a poignant encounter with a saintly nun, who only eats roots. In a bizarre moment, amidst a flock of flamingos who have come to settle on Jep's porch, the nun tells him her secret: “Do you know why I only eat roots?” she asks Jep, “Because roots are important,” she tells him. The nuns are poignantly revealed in this unearthly scene as the absurd symbol (in the Camusian sense) of what lies “underneath”. They are the mantle, safeguarding some sacred knowledge.

Two passages open and close the film. The first is a quote from a novel by Louis Ferdinand Céline, Journey to the End of the Night. The concluding passage is Jep’s epiphany. The movie must be seen in the context of this prologue and epilogue.

Louis Ferdinand Céline:

Travel is very useful.

It exercises the imagination.  

All the rest is disappointment and fatigue.

The journey is entirely imaginary.

Therein lies its strength.

It goes from life to death.

People, animals, cities, things-- it's all invention.

It's a novel, nothing more than simple fiction.

Littrè says so, and he's never wrong.

And besides, anyone can do the same.

You just have to close your eyes,

and you're on the other side of the world.

In the end, our daily lives of parties and noise, work and labor, architecture, literature, and even art are illusory. Reality, death, and the nature of things and the world are indifferent to us. The big questions have no answers, and everything is ultimately irrelevant.

At the end of the film, Jep makes his final statement…

In the end, it's just a trick. Yes. It's just a trick.

Before Jep makes his conclusion, that it’s all a trick, he says, “In other places, there are other things. But I don't care about those other places. Therefore... let the novel begin!”

Only one’s own choices, of how one chooses to view the world, are what give meaning to life. There are no absolute truths, just as there are no answers beyond what we see. Jep has found the ability, motivation, and desire to write his second novel, after years of procrastination and excuses.

“Why didn’t you write another novel,” the saintly nun asks Jep. “Because I was searching for the great beauty. But I never found it,” he replies. In the end, art saves Jep. One must create one’s own trick to give meaning to life. And thus, Jep finds the will to begin to write in earnest again. Jep couldn’t find the great beauty because it isn’t something you find. It’s something you have to create for yourself.

Before the final act of the film, Jep visits a photo exhibit of a man who has covered an entire stadium with mug shots of himself, taken every day since he was a child. While this scene initially sets itself up as yet another of those kitsch art shows that Jep attends in his mundane job as an art critic, the music that plays is, instead, the musical cue for moments of profound self discovery for Jep.

Art is presented as a transformative force. It redeems us from the abyss of the indifference and coldness of nature, from the senseless noise and frivolity, from all the bla bla bla…

Each one makes of himself, and of his life, a work of art. This is the great beauty. Self-creation is the redeeming principle of human life.

“In the end, its just a trick. Yes, it’s just a trick.”

Jep finally sees the human experience, and its reality, for what it is. There is no redemption in anything that is outside one’s self. Human life is merely, and inescapably, a point of view. Human perception is a trick of mirrors. It is illusory, imaginary. But because it is, one has a choice... one is able to defy nature by becoming the maker of one’s own values. One has godlike power to create the great beauty. This is the sacred knowledge the nuns are hiding. This is the secret behind the disappearing giraffe trick. Céline says so too, anyone can do it, he says, you just have to close your eyes, and you're on the other side of the world.

Epílogo:

Siempre se termina así: con la muerte.

Pero primero ha habido una vida escondida bajo el bla bla bla…

Todo está resguardado bajo la frivolidad y el ruido,

el silencio y el sentimiento,

la emoción y el miedo…

los demacrados inconstantes destellos de belleza,

la decadencia,

la desgracia

y el hombre miserable.

Todo sepultado bajo la cubierta de la vergüenza de estar en el mundo bla bla bla.

En otros lugares hay otras cosas.

A mi no me importan los otros lugares.

Así pues, que empiece la novela.

En el fondo, es sólo un truco.

Sí. Sólo es un truco.

[daveandtrev]

How the heckfire did we get here? A journey into the 2019 Andre Johnson Sweepstakes League

To my collegiate brood who has become like family, to my partners in weekend rendezvous, to my loyal participants in chatting about all things sports – this article is a labor of love for you. Every year I get coerced into preparing another one of these but this year not a single inquiry. Perhaps the luster of this treatise has worn off, or perhaps we assumed it was inevitable – Dave would eventually wander his way into his cold, dark fantasy football laboratory and emerge with a new concoction of thoughts on the AJSL that he would be eager to spill in a few thousand words. If the last assumption was yours, well then you know your commissioner well. And in the end, this piece. My hope remains to both educate and entertain.

To let you into the mind of your commissioner, I view each season as a journey that bears a resemblance to all journeys. Hopeful sojourners equipped with all that they can carry in hopes of future glory. Along the way, pitfalls and roadblocks (injuries, underperformance) threaten the journey’s success and oftentimes we require a bit of help from unforeseen resources (waiver claims, trades). After many weeks, the landscape seems foggier – where again did we start? Where has the journey detoured from expectation, both in triumph and in defeat? Therein lies the premise of this endeavor: to grasp, understand, and wrestle through in order to get our heads around each season’s “happenings”. We know we will encounter humility and perseverance (by this point all of our best laid plans have been altered). I’m sure we will find a stroke of genius or two to keep our spirits high. And you can count on biased interpretation from a guy whose authority is summed up by “I spend a lot of time thinking about this”. Thrilling. With that, come and explore the highlands and the low country with me. Let’s open together the tome of the 11th edition of the Andre Johnson Sweepstakes League.

With the stage set, allow me to redirect you towards the stats, candid thoughts, definitive (hindsight) analysis and forward looking predictions that can only come from yours truly. Please react accordingly with nods and smiles. Lets take a look at my post-draft thoughts for context on where we thought this year would be headed from the journey’s inception. (Or at least close to inception – with our late draft, I formed the basis of these thoughts after week 1. So I did have a single data point to go by).

Tier I - The Julio Jones tier

As its namesake implies, I projected the teams in this tier to consistently perform above average while also maintaining “Joe Flacco in the playoffs” elite upside on any given week. As you can see, this does not include my own team. You know what that means -> “If you don’t like your own draft…”

Cristian

Phil

Tier II - The Matt Stafford tier

The talent is there. The ability is never in question. And most of the time, the job gets done. Are you excited about Stafford, either as a Lions fan or a fantasy owner? Sort of? I expect a decent performance with ups and downs along the way when im cheering on Stafford. And he’s the perfect description of my expectations for this tier. Above average in spurts, but right around average in the long run.

Soape            

Trevor

Grundy

Dave

Tier III - The Peyton Hillis and Trent Richardson memorial tier

Before you dismiss the tier names and remember the downfall of these careers, first remember that both had studly seasons as members of the Browns. Hillis finished as the RB2 in 2010, Richardson as the RB8 in 2012. Its just that neither could find consistency over their careers and ultimately sputtered out without tasting prolonged glory. That’s the fear with these teams. We know any team can pop off for 150+ points, but can these teams hit 120 consistently? I have my concerns.

Scooter

Jack

Swave

Jason

And really, when we go back to careers like Trent and Peyton’s and remember that it was indeed the Browns that squandered such promise, let’s remember the wisdom that our tallest leaguemate passed out like a life preserver on draft night: The Browns, the Factory of Sadness themselves, will surely, inevitably, Browns. (Jason -> You may consider asking for this shirt for Christmas. I want to make sure you are clear on this during the next year’s draft.)

Let’s dig into the strengths for each team on draft day:

Tier I - The Julio Jones tier

Tier 3 RB’s

When you see Phil Stark make the championship, you go after the guys that got him there. Cristian pounced on 2018 stalwarts Davante Adams and DeAndre Hopkins, keeping them tied together for consecutive years. The next idea was to pack a bunch of mid tier RBs onto the squad and hope that one or two would differentiate. Or maybe better stated, the plan was hoping Chris Carson would fall in price as a result of never nominating him. In the meantime, he would purchase 3 contingency plans. Cristian wisely used the mid-draft break to gather his thoughts and recognize his hole at RB, determining to have at least two of Carson, Jacobs, Michel and Freeman. He bagged all 4, culminating in Carson for $18 late in the proceedings. This was a strategy that I suggested to Monica last year, resulting in a backfield of Jamaal Williams, Jay Ajayi, Alex Collins, and Lamar Miller. That turned out poorly, but I think the method has some merit and I was intrigued to watch this experiment get its second trial.

As for insurance on his receiving studs, Will Fuller and Dede Westbrook were two of my favorites. Nick Foles is known to love targeting slot receivers and Fuller is practically automatic when healthy with DeShaun. Even his backup (to the backups) at RB (Devin Singletary) seemed to be the starter on a run-first team when LeSean McCoy was released, further insulating the running back fortification that had been built up. Depth was not going to be an issue at RB or WR.

Moving on, TE was going to be a challenge, though Cristian had snagged Mark Andrews after week 1 and I figured he would plug the gap if Vance McDonald couldn’t. (As we know now, he could’t).

Probably the biggest change between draft night and my thoughts after Week 1 occurred with Cristian’s quarterbacks. Sitting next to him on draft night, I know he believed he overpaid for his QBs when Lamar and Kyler started going for less than Dak and Brady. As we flipped to Week 1, we saw that the rumors of Kellen Moore’s influence were manifesting almost instantly and that Brady was about to import Antonio Brown for week 2. Unreal. The two unexpected studs at QB catapulted my prediction for this team all the way to the top.

The Michael Scarns

America’s favorite boss is commemorated every year in the AJSL and typically gets a draft day listing towards the bottom as my flesh and blood juxtaposes right brain creativity with my left brained desire for structure. Not the case this year – Phil’s team was an early favorite of mine.

Grabbing onto a top-2 RB is a great way to set up your team’s upside. Then grabbing Melvin Gordon’s potential fill-in looked like a great step 2, especially after a Week 1 where Ekeler ceded hardly any work to Justin Jackson. (We weren’t certain what that split would be on draft night). Marlon Mack had limitations (doesn’t catch passes, maybe needs Andrew Luck to keep the offense on schedule?), but $5 was an easy price to pay to find out more.  And I liked Guice as a great late round candidate – he’s a talent-heavy back who was ticketed for primary work.

I saw upside coming out in spades with the QB choices – apparently only Phil was paying attention last year when Josh Allen was the QB2 from week 12 onward. $1 to see if he could run it back? Wow. (And yes, I snagged Jameis for $2 myself, brain fart for punting on Allen’s rushing upside). Kyler Murray is someone I liked a lot for his role in captaining Kliff’s new offense and his rushing ability that we had all heard about. This pair cost $6. Would you be surprised to see this duo combine for 80 points during a week? Tremendous Upside Potential.

The receiving room of Evans, Diggs and Cooper boasted plenty of star power and the aforementioned Kellen Moore effect made Cooper look even better after his week 1. The Vikes commitment to ground and pound had me concerned about Diggs volume (not his talent), and he was my pick to share the flex spot with Mack. Picking up John Brown late seemed like a great complement to sling-it-deep Josh Allen’s tendencies and I liked him to spot start during good matchups. I haven’t even mentioned former Antonio Gates caddie Hunter Henry playing with known tight end lover Phil Rivers. Even with his injury in Week 1, Phil’s early pickup of TJ Hockenson figured to fill that gap and potentially give Phil a dilemma when Henry returned.

Tier II - The Matt Stafford tier

Goffam City

With our team moving from 12 to 10 teams this year, we essentially added 28 players back into the player pool (16 rosterable players – D/K = 14 players * 2 teams). This boosts the floor of all teams to where there are so few holes on rosters. In this scenario, grabbing studs is even more important as they are the rare differentiators. I really like grabbing as many as you can on draft night and Joel did his best work here, nabbing Julio, James Conner, and Alvin Kamara (all while contemplatively swirling his whiskey). You really need to hit on your surrounding talent when you go for the studs-n-scrubs approach, and I thought Sammy Watkins and Duke Johnson were affordable pieces who could develop into plus starters as the season went on. Dante Pettis had the potential of a rising sophomore who was being treated strangely in camp (not running with the 1s in preseason games) but had the tools and pedigree (2nd round pick) to succeed here too.

Trey Burton wasn’t on my radar, but Jared Cook figured to be a new toy for Drew Brees. I liked having both options available. Quarterback projected to be solid if not spectacular with Goff and Russell, and I liked their affordability overall ($9 combined). Russell’s Seahawks were expected to be run heavy which would supposedly cap his upside. But as Joel (smartly) gathered, Russell Wilson is very good. At a $3 price tag, the rest of the league didn’t want to find out if Russ could overcome his circumstances (and we know how that turned out.)

Overall, I figured a few of these role players would pop to support the studs and position this team right behind the elite.

That’s My QB

Coming in costume on a mission to re-establish the formula of previous glory, Trevor handled sticker duty while deftly selecting top tier passing game options. Unsurprisingly, Trevor landed Keenan Allen at the top of his draft board, selecting the Chargers receiver for the 4th straight year. He also snapped the author’s own streak of AJ Green selections at three years by nabbing the injured Bengal for $15. The question was “How much would he cost?” for Trevor regarding Travis Kelce – the end result was never in doubt. Previous tight end connoisseur Monica was not present to make Trevor sweat, but her parting instruction on my leaving for draft day was stated clearly. “Make him pay up”. I feel like $38 was enough to do her proud. Godwin, Edelman, and Woods were added to create a super stable of receivers while also creating a likely mid season trade with a running back heavy team. (This is Trevor’s team, so readers will understand that I liked all of these players. #MandateForever).

Trevor treated running back like Cristian did if Cristian spent $10 less on everyone. The only luxury was Tevin Coleman (who wrecked his ankle after week 1). James White at $8 was my favorite selection – we know he’s got a solid 10 point floor and can add more if the other New England backs go down. Miles Sanders intrigued me as well – if Philly were to move away from their RBBC, Sanders would be the likely beneficiary.

Finishing up at QB, Lamar Jackson at $6 was good value on draft day and Week 1 showed us his upside immediately (and that Baltimore was going to be able to throw, which was still a guess on draft day). QBs who run have upside, period. Lamar runs a lot. Personally I always get a little queasy on guys like that holding up (I’ve been burned by RG3 and Kaepernick before) but $6 is so little risk, especially with guaranteed QBs on waivers.

Overall, this team was a running back away from jumping up to the next tier.

Coach Davis All Stars

Taking a page out of Phil Stark’s book in continuing to honor a beloved icon with his team name (as you can see, Phil Stark = trendsetter), the 5th iteration of the Coach Davis All-Stars hoped to finally launch Grundy into Diamond status on Yahoo and land him his first AJSL championship (Lord knows he’s due). With his whiskey in one hand, Grundy went toe to toe with the aforementioned Phil Stark to battle for the rights to Odell Beckham, culminating in an intimate staring-while-bidding contest. While the rest of us shifted uncomfortably in our seats, Grundy secured his man for $50, holding a different view from Cristian on what the Browns were about to do this year (cue Raybon). Following that bet was what I ended up pining over post-draft: the Dave Johnson/Dalvin Cook combination at running back. Punch drunk from a 5 hour adrenaline rush, I stumbled to the draft board knowing that this combo was going to absolutely work over the league. I envied silently and then shared my plight with a few passer bys, realizing once more why Grundy has the win percentage that he does. Great picks, friend.

How does this team land in this tier after my man crush on the running backs? Welp, I had reservations on Tyler Lockett (Russell may not throw much and Lockett wasn’t always emphasized last year even when Baldwin went down – his stats were good but he survived on deep balls and caught almost all of them. We know that doesn’t typically repeat in subsequent years.) While I liked Engram fine, I wondered who else would step up in the flex? MVS had talent but uncertain opportunity. I was 100% done with Donte Moncrief when he couldn’t perform with Andrew Luck (I bid $22 in 2016 for his services, still salty). Everyone else was a $1 flier. The flex can be an easy hole to fill if you nab a waiver pickup, but it’s a holeI downgrade for in post draft rankings (this essentially also means your depth is lacking).

With Rodgers a stud but Ryan a question mark for me (look at his previous years, dude finished QB15 in 2017 and QB18 in 2015. Not convinced he would be more than average despite spike years finishing QB2 in 2016 and 2018), I placed this team in the middle of the pack, content to wait for answers in my areas of concern. (Those running backs are still beautiful though, especially this guy).

WinningStreakToSAGA

Welp, here’s my draft day assessment. Dave, congrats - You aren’t in the Browns tier. But let me tell you, there’s going to be a hill to climb. At least we came up with a team name by week 4. Oh yeah, we threw a kick ass draft party too. Chin up, pal.

I came into this draft wanting to go heavy running back and was delighted to find my old friend Zeke Elliot available for a discount (had him going for $50+) with his contract situation in the air. Things sort of got hazy when I ended up with Melvin Gordon (thought he was worth $20 and grabbed him for $13) and then decided to run it back with Pat Mahomes. (Some had questions here – I think the elite QBs become worth the expenditure at some point and Pat Mahomes was the surest elite QB we’ve seen in a while. He ended up going for $30 which comes out to player #24 overall or a 3rd round pick in traditional snake draft. That’s where he was going in a 1 QB league, and we start 2….Really though, I was wearing his jersey and the allure of prior glory could not be overcome in the heat of the moment.)

I then made my big gamble on Juju, and as I’ve shared on the group text, this was prompted by that one article you read a day before the draft that comes back to mind as a player is being bid. I’ve done plenty of second guessing here, but my biggest lesson (as seems to always pop up) is to go over your plan before the draft. Read it and read it again. Know where you can take risks, and know where you want to attack. During the draft, there’s too much stimuli to reliably adjust on the fly.

Hilton was a calculated risk (we know his talent is good), Fournette was a calculated risk (we know his opportunity will be good), OJ Howard was on purpose and I perceived low risk. DJ Moore was a steal in my opinion as he was coming on last year with Cam. I was fine with Jameis, but was a bit sad I didn’t pick up a running QB with prices as low as they were.

Overall, tons of risks (Zeke, Gordon, Hilton, Fournette) and not enough real substance to bank on. I felt like I had undervalued assets, but I needed most of them to pan out to be successful. If not, disaster loomed.

Tier III - The Peyton Hillis and Trent Richardson memorial tier

Bob Kraft’s Day Spa

Scooter advertises his friendship with Bob Kraft in promoting his leisure activities, remembering the good ol’ days of R&R with Robert by his side. Classy.  

Lets start with what we like. I liked the aggressive nature at QB and both of these guys fit as upside plays  – Wentz has been reliable when healthy and was importing known QB-elevator DeSean Jackson. DeShaun had been suggested by some (including my beloved Evan Silva) as the overall QB1 over even Mahomes, citing his rushing upside and return of weapons . I like going QB heavy in the right situations when the league has decided that they aren’t as valuable. (As my Pat Mahomes pick suggests). George Kittle was a stud last year and figured to carry that over with the 49ers failing to establish a #1 WR in training camp. I viewed him as a differentiator at TE.

Antonio Brown highlighted the skill players (he was only in the middle of his diabolical plan to exit Oakland at this point) which was potentially a nice get but had its own question marks (new team, QB who typically throws short, weird preseason injuries/behavior). Kupp, Alshon, and Boyd were all fine but didn’t move the needle for me. Same with the Kerryon/Dame Williams combo at RB. And same with the depth (Fitzgerald/Marvin/LeSean/Lindsey). I didn’t see many holes on this team but I wasn’t sure where the upside was coming from. Kerryon was the best bet to smash followed by LeSean (great grab for $1) in my opinion.

Overall, the lack of high end skill players was my biggest concern for this team.

Da Bear Necessities

Jack Holmer went straight back to my childhood in the early 90s with his recollection of a Jungle Book classic, celebrating the simplicity of living as a predator in a tropical forest. “The Bear Necessities will come to you”. Words to live by, my friend.

Mike Thomas and Le’Veon Bell were the headliners of this draft class, and while Thomas’s domination is without question (never finished below WR10 on a per-game basis in his career), Le’Veon’s new situation was a bit murky (Would he get touches like he did in Pit? Would his O-line and QB help him like they did in Pit? RBs generally transition to new teams easier than WRs, but the Pit situation is unique for RB production) Assuming Le’Veon could pass those tests, the remaining core of Kenny Golladay, Mark Ingram and Joe Mixon gave this team firepower from every angle. Even better for Kenny G when we found out Matt Stafford intended on throwing the ball deep after Week 1. Ingram’s Ravens looked like world beaters themselves and showed that RBs attached to running QBs always have a place at the top of fantasy scoreboards. Mixon’s role also had potential growth under new coach Zac Taylor who was intending on implementing Rams concepts in Cincinnati.

Gallup was another who looked like a steal after Week 1 and I definitely liked the potential of Christian Kirk in that 4-wide AZ offense. Dave Montgomery was a luxury that could be waited on to contribute and Sutton and waiver pickup McLaurin also showed early promise. The skill positions looked above average right from the get go here.

Unfortunately for me, that’s where my optimism ceased. Darnold and Trubisky weren’t getting it done for me, and neither was perennial borderline-starter Austin Hooper. This team was the inverse of Scooter’s (who was strong at QB and TE) and I felt deserved to be ranked at the same level. Upside was probably easier to see here, but the holes were also more glaring.

Daniel and the Shew

This name would have made zero sense on draft day – more appropriately this team could have taken on Benjamin Feels the Brees as its moniker (though Yahoo’s character limit would have probably stopped the idea cold). Big Ben and Drew Brees gave Swave the oldest combination of quarterbacks and with both known for their home game prowess (and road struggles), they figured to mix in spiked weeks with untimely duds. Over the long haul, I expected average production with an acknowledgement of week winning upside under the right conditions.

CMC was the big haul and I loved Swave’s guts to go big here, spending a league high $59. No sense in leaving money on the table – and we know from Swave’s history that he likes to accumulate depth late in the draft. This was a pristine move for someone who likes to stock his bench – make sure you have at least one warhorse to supplement your depth. Well done here.

Flanking CMC was Aaron Jones and Adam Thielen, both with question marks (will Aaron Jones be a bellcow and will Minnesota ever pass?) but are clear top end talents when utilized well. I liked Cooks as a consistent play and didn’t mind the Josh Gordon/Calvin Ridley combo to fill the flex. I guessed he wouldn’t find many holes in his receiver unit, though I did wonder how much top end production we would see.

Derrick Henry rounded out the RB room and although I’m not crazy about his lack of pass catching, I liked his price ($7) as Swave could count any contribution from Henry as a bonus (and we know that Henry can go off). Lets all do ourselves a favor and watch the best run of 2018 unfold once more, this time with additional commentary. (Seriously, required watching).  

Njoku and Ebron were going to duke out the TE position, and frankly, that’s a formula for a $20 tight end claim come week 1.

Overall, this team was CMC + a bunch of promising parts. I will say this about Swave’s previous teams – he typically is able to mine a gemstone out of his depth by the time the season ends. I believed that this would need to happen once again in order for his path to victory to truly open up this season.

WeAllRammedIntoDaPit

You knew this one was coming. But let’s keep on this roll and reminisce a bit more. After living in Indiana for 3 years, the existence of Pawnee is not a stretch for the imagination (testify, Trevor).

As with other teams taking on the moniker of unfortunate events, winning fantasy weeks can be a bit more of a challenge than initially forseen. (Ex: defeatedseason #G1, 5-9 final record. Duck Attack, 2-12. The Schiano Stink, 6-8. CelektnNameErtzMyHed, 4-10. Of course we had the declining HurricaneScooter that ended up as a rainshower (lost first 11 games) before regaining its strength with three late season wins. I can find one positive outcome – the Butt Fumbles of 2013 went 11-3 and made the championship game.) Hence, I needed to see overwhelming evidence of burgeoning breakout players in order to feel confident in predicting season-end success.

We learned a valuable lesson on draft weekend: The Pit, even when its presence is known, will still rise up and take its prey the moment you let your guard down. Tyreek Hill, established stud of Jason’s squad playing for the high-flying Chiefs, succumbed to the Pit of Misery, breaking his collarbone during week 1 and setting up an extended absence that really left this team shorthanded. After Tyreek, I had a hard time envisioning upside. Gurley had a chronic knee issue, Chubb was a 2 down back in 2018 rumored but not assured of gaining passing down work, Zach Ertz faced stiffer competition for targets with DeSean coming to town, Allen Robinson played for a Bears team that’s known for spreading targets around, Jarvis Landry had incoming target competition from OBJ, Desean Jackson was changing teams, Jordan Howard had busted before and Kenyan Drake had never been a featured back. Now to be fair, many of these players had paths to upside and consistency but I had questions about most.

My favorite picks were Cam Newton, who continues to create rushing-based upside, and Curtis Samuel who I liked to take a step forward this year as one of Cam’s two primary targets along with DJ Moore. Baker didn’t run much last year so his upside was tied to his offensive scheme and his pass catchers. I figured he’d be about average with a path to a strong season if the OBJ connection took off.

Overall, I felt like this team really needed to hit on quite a bit of its 50/50 players and get a speedy recovery from Tyreek in order to emerge alive from the pit.

 Now that we are sufficiently anchored – where have the last 8 weeks taken us? Well for starters, the Bills are in prime wildcard position and the 4-12 Niners of 2018 are undefeated. The ship named “What we thought we knew” has been rocked. The remaining fallout is a muddied combination of 1) exactly what we expected and 2) typical unforeseen NFL chicanery. Of course this has trickled down to our fantasy scoring - look at this TE scoring list. Half of the top 10 were undrafted! And look who’s on top!

Lets get a handle on what each AJSL team is likely thinking going forward. (All ppg figures reference ppg while starting that player)

I like my odds of getting to the dance

The Michael Scarns: 140 ppg – Currently in the driver’s seat with 7 wins, The Scarns rode an unbelievable start by Austin Ekeler and a scintillating trio at the WR position (ranking #2 in the league for points at the WR1, WR2, and Flex postions) to pole position. Oh yeah, those ranks include only 2 weeks of recently-acquired Julio Jones. Gees. I expect both of the running quarterbacks (Kyler and Josh Allen) to have a few more spiked weeks and the return of Hunter Henry to boost this team’s floor even higher (currently ranked 8th in TE scoring). This is clearly the team to beat.

Coach Davis All-Stars: 144 ppg – Grundy leads the league in expected wins – weeks scoring above 130 – at 6 (I explain this a bit more below). Best case scenario Dalvin Cook has emerged as the consensus RB2 overall, averaging 22.3 ppg with 6 of 8 games over 20 points. The bedrock of Coach Davis’s finest is supported by a consistent QB duo (Rodgers and Ryan have Grundy pulling down the 2nd most combined QB points at 42.4 ppg), Dave Johnson (hoping he gets healthy again – Grundy is #2 in RB1 points) and Even Engram (11.3 ppg). The Browns have been a mess for OBJ (10.7 ppg – essentially turning him into a flex play) – if that gets straightened out, the Scarns may find themselves with competition.

I have the tiebreaker locked up, but I am terrified that I may not win enough games

Tier 3 RBs Patriots Defense: 140 ppg – Cristian finally got the team name right. The biggest defensive storyline in my memory has been impossible to compete with. The Scarns are 2nd in the league in defensive scoring at 9.6 ppg. Cristian is 1st in league scoring at 20.4, including 23.3 ppg with the Pats D (Cristian scored 0 defensive points in week 1!). Incredible – the Pats D has performed like a #1 defense plus a flex player (Flex average is 10.6 points across all teams). Unfathomable. Maddening to Jack, Grundy and myself who were outbid for their services in week 2. Elsewhere, the QB combo is solidly above average (ranking 3rd in QB1 and QB2 scoring) and Hopkins/Adams haven’t played close to their potential, signaling additional upside. RB2 has to get better (9th in scoring), though figuring out who to play between Sony Michel, Devonta Freeman and Devin Singletary has been an adventure thus far. This will start to improve and with the 2nd most points secured, Cristian really just needs the schedule to participate in order to secure a playoff berth.

2019’s guy getting screwed by the schedule

That’s my QB: 134 ppg – Ive estimated each team to have “earned” a win by scoring 130 points (typically this is 120, but the 10 team format seems to have inflated that number). That’s my QB has faced a team scoring 129 or more each of the first seven weeks until mercifully drawing Soape’s surrender squad in Week 8. Nobody else is even close to this mark - Cristian leads the rest of the league with five opponents putting up that many points, but everyone else is at 4 or less. So not only has Trevor seen plenty of points scored against his team, but its been a steady onslaught. The guy has put up 5 performances worthy of a victory himself (2nd only to Grundy, tied with Cristian) and has only won 3. Yeah. Here’s to friendlier shores, my friend.

Team wise, Lamar Jackson is insane at 25.8 ppg, QB1 overall. Mahomes finished at 27.1 last year (if my memory serves me), this is getting close to that level. Trevor leads the league in flex scoring (thanks, Edelman) and is 2nd at TE. The kicker is the kicker – Trevor sits in 10th here as well as RB2, the land of James White and Miles Sanders. That will likely putter on for a bit more, a chink in the armor that Trevor hopes will be overcome by Kennan Allen’s return to form and/or Travis Kelce starting to experience touchdown regression (currently only scored twice).

I know my team isn’t bad. I’m not sure if my team is actually good.

WinningStreaktoSAGA: 127 ppg – Still don’t like handicapping myself in these papers, but this is certainly the appropriate category. The strength of the team is RB (Zeke and Fournette help me rank 3rd at RB1 and RB2 scoring.) That’s really it – Pat Mahomes played 3 games with his head on fire (28.9 ppg) before succumbing to an ankle injury and eventually a kneecap dislocation (15.9 ppg during that stretch). Fameis is fine when I trust him (18.5 ppg) but like so many of us, I have bailed during his breakout games. OJ Howard was a disaster (and truly one of my most confident draft choices), though Darren Waller should alleviate that position going forward. The biggest issue has been the Flex where I rank dead last at 7.3ppg. By sheer regression you would think this would start to move upward. The team needs more firepower from somewhere other than RB to make noise, but where will it come from? A bunch of question marks among traditionally strong performers (Mahomes, Hilton, Juju, Melvin Gordon) leave this team relying on breaks/hot streaks/good luck in hoping for an extended season.

Daniel and the Shew: 125 ppg – CMC and Aaron Jones, good Lord! The only thing keeping Swave from sweeping #1 ranks in RB1 and RB2 are missing Aaron Jones breakout games (missed a 23 and 41 pt game) for the allure of Derrick Henry (be strong Swave!) As is, CMC’s otherworldly 27.0 ppg has Swave pacing RB1 scoring and the Jones/Henry combo sits in 4th for RB2. Justin Tucker has proven to be worth the $2 (I think?) by leading Swave to #1 in kicker scoring. The problem has been QB, (Daniel Jones sucked for 4 games with 11.4 ppg), TE (6.5 ppg aggregate with TJ Hockenson still not finding his week 1 stroke) and WR2 (Brandin Cooks 7.2 ppg in a broken Rams passing game). DJ Chark should help cover Cooks and Brees return allows Minshew (respectable 17.7 ppg) to cover Jones’s old spot. Never say never to a team with the best player in the league – especially a team who has already banked 5 wins thus far.

Da Bear Necessities: 120 ppg – Mitchell Trubisky is the excess weight on a sinking ship. I admire Jack’s loyalty, he’s a fan’s fanatic. But I think we’ve seen enough. He’s averaging 10.6 ppg (again, aiming for 20 ppg) and even removing the game he was injured mid-game still brings him to 12.7 ppg. Not to be outdone, Sam Darnold checks in at 11.6 ppg. Holy cow. Its also not helping that Le’Veon hasn’t found his groove (11.7 ppg). In brighter news, Mark Ingram has been solid (14.9 ppg) and Michael Thomas has been phenomenal (18.4 ppg, Jack leads all teams in WR1 points.) I’m keeping track of waiver transactions and how many make an impact – Jack leads the league in playing 9 different players purchased from the waiver pool (not looking at K/DEF in this analysis). Only 1 in 13 attempts has said waiver players hit either 10 pts for RB/WR/TE or 20 pts for a QB. Tough sledding here. I do think Le’Veon finds a higher gear and that Golladay’s presence in the lineup improves in the second half of the year, though the biggest jump will come when Jack finds top 20 quarterback play. (QB 20 sits at 15.3 ppg for the record).

A long ways from the Whiskery Phil League

Bob Kraft’s Day Spa: 124 ppg – This is the other team suffering from a fickle schedule’s seasonal musings: Scooter has accumulated 4 expected wins, only winning 3 times. And the upcoming schedule is unforgiving: 5 of the 6 remaining games are against the top 6 in total points scored. No rest for the weary. The path to overcoming the schedule rests on the shoulders of DeShaun Watson, who is neck and neck with Lamar Jackson at 25.1 ppg. Cooper Kupp is the other standout at 17.3 ppg, giving Scooter the #1 ranking at the WR2 position. The biggest hole attempting to be filled is the other WR spot – the one Antonio Brown is supposed to be filling. The fill-ins have averaged just 8.3 ppg, a league low for that position. Unfortunately with Kerryon hitting IR and the Chiefs backfield never really settling on one player, I see the Day Spa shuttering early, and truthfully, good riddance (to the spa of course.)  

This pit is bigger than I thought

WeAllRammedIntoDaPit: 116 ppg – Rough year. The pit dwellers are top 3 in scoring in only one category: Kicker (2nd). Jason has tried to replace an injured Cam Newton to the tune of 11.5 ppg and Baker Mayfield was almost worse (13.0 ppg). Nick Chubb got the pass down work we were hoping for and has prospered (18.3 ppg). GurleyMan has been at least startable (13.0 ppg). Allen Robinson has overcome the Trubisky trainwreck (14.6 ppg). What the heckfire happened to Zach Ertz? (8.4 ppg even with all of the injuries at receiver in Philly.) Tyreek’s injury didn’t help and neither has Mahomes’ – but his presence lifts this team’s ceiling and positions it as a postseason spoiler down the stretch.

Fantasy football is a waste of time and fundamentally unfair (until next year)

Goffam City/Little Mermaids/Just Here for 2020: 114 ppg – There are years where it all feels like a bad dream and that’s been the case so far for Soape. Kamara and Conner have staved off injury (to self and team’s QB) to post a respectable 15.7 ppg each, but you’re hoping maybe one of these gets to 20+ ppg on draft day. Somehow Soape’s WR2 position has only 1 game scoring over 10 pts all year (and that was 10.4). Yikes. That WR2 position owns a league low 6.7 ppg. I wrote down “TE is a STEAMING TRASH HEAP” in my notes after seeing the 4.3 ppg average. Also this team’s defense scoring is league worst (5.8 ppg). The one bright spot? QB2. Russell Wilson surprised most of us and has been lethal when allowed to throw, scoring 23.3 ppg after costing a mere $3 on draft day. Well done on that call, Joelseph. Good luck on beating the real-life Dolphins win total.

 6,277 words. Are you stuffed? Thanks for sitting by the fire and chatting with me in the midst of our journey – the road to glory becomes narrower with each passing week. May the road rise up to meet you. (Well really, three of you. I’ll take the other spot.)

 Indubitably yours,

Dungeonmaster Dave

[nationalfantasyfootballleag-blog]

Week 3 Predictions

Well respected members of our fantasy league, it is week three already; and what a crazy start to the season it’s been. Only three of our teams remain undefeated, Team SuperBowl LIV- Eagles, Team Shim Hook, and Team Canada. However, it’s still early and I mean let’s take into consideration that teams like the Buffalo Bills are also undefeated so far as well. Let’s take a closer look at the matchups this week to see if these three can maintain their winning streaks and if other teams can get that win as well.

Our first brawl of the week is between Team Shim Hook and the Doo Doo Browns. Both teams are coming off of week two wins, but only needing some solidly average scores to have beaten their opponent. Team Shim Hook’s X Factor is Saints RB Alvin Kamara will be carrying the workload since QB Drew Brees got hurt. Team Doo Doo Browns X Factor will be Vikings WR Stefon Diggs who’s been MIA the last couple of weeks and looking to show why he is part of one of the best WR duos in the league. This is projected to be a close one ladies and gents, with Team Shim Hook predicted at 125 and the Doo Doo Browns at 119. While we all might be rooting for the upset, we suspect that Team Shim Hook will be able to maintain that winning streak at least another week.

Our next battle this week is a classic Kevin vs. Jenny competition with The Crosby Show vs. The Goatfather. (For those of you who haven’t watched The League and do not get the reference, you are fucking up and need to get on that.) While The Crosby Show has had a pretty decent start to the season with a win and tie, you can bet The Goatfather is hungry for that first W. For Kevin’s X Factor we got Broncos RB Philip Lindsay looking to play like his pro bowl self last year and for team Jenny(who we believe has the pants currently) their X Factor will be RB Aaron Jones going against a tough Broncos D with Von Miller and Bradley Chubb leading the charge. With predictions of 118 for The Crosby Show and 127 for The Goatfather, we are predicting that The Goatfather will be able to secure that first win. However, with both opponents armed for battle with legendary quarterbacks and solid teams, the battle for whose wearing the pants this week should be pretty epic.

Next up on the week three matchup docket is the Black Lagoon Creatures vs. Deep Sleeper. With Deep Sleeper being our league high-scorer for week two, Black Lagoon Creatures will have their work cut out for them if they want to score their first win. Black Lagoon Creature’s X Factor will be Redskins QB Case Keemun who will be facing the dangerous Chicago defense while there are rumors of Rookie QB Dwayne Haskins taking the starting role. Deep Sleeper’s X Factor is Derrick Henry looking to repeat his performance last year against the Jags tonight. Predictions for this matchup have Black Lagoon Creatures at 124 and Deep Sleeper at 133. While we suspect Deep Sleeper to capture the victory flag, will their performance dominate like last week? Or will Black Lagoon Creatures be a deep sleeper themselves and pull off an upset to get that first W?

Our next showdown of week three is between two of our more unconventional teams this season, Mike Ack vs. The Grind Never Stops. With Mike Ack’s lineup not even being completed at this time, he’s got a shit ton of confidence squaring up at 0-2 with The Grind Never Sleeps. While The Grind Never Sleeps had a rough start, their team now is pretty solid and impressive. Mike Ack’s X Factor is Ravens WR Hollywood Brown looking to continue his success against of the best best offenses in the league in Kansas City led by MVP Pat Mahomes. Shane’s X Factor will be Dallas Cowboys QB Dak Prescott against geh Dolphins and who knows how much he will put up. While missing a TE in the lineup is definitely affecting Mike Ack’s low 108 projection, The Grind Never Stops, who is currently projected at 120, will most likely secure the win this week.

Ready to talk about our next tussel of the week? Well buckle up anyways bitches because its Team Cooper vs. JetBlue. With Team Cooper barely pulling off the win last week and JetBlue looking to get their first, it should be a damn good fight. For Team JetBlue they will be looking for Baker Mayfield to have a stellar game against the Rams and Team Cooper will be relying on improving QB Josh Allen. With Team Cooper projected at 123 and JetBlue projected at 120, it should be a close and dirty fight. We suspect that Jetblue will be good and scrapy enough to get their first win of the season. Remember ladies, we want a good fight, but let’s also keep it clean.

Next, the week three competition heats up as Team Fuck Canda and SuperBowl LIV- Eagles duel for top contender. With both teams having pretty good starts to their season, they will be looking to dominate this week and prove their greatness not just for the league, but also as NFL division rivals. Team fuck Canada will rely on WR Keenan Allen against a tough Houston D and Ty’s team will be rooting for RB Dalvin Cook to continue his ways. With Team Fuck Canada projected at 121 and SuperBowl LIV-Eagles projected at 143, we are suspecting the winner of this duel to be SuperBowl LIV-Eagles. Nonetheless, bring your bud light, horse, lance, and armor because this duel will most likely be pretty good.

Last but not… well, I guess in this case it is least, our least notable scuffle of week three is comprised of Team Canada vs. Multiple Scoregasms. After a shitty week two with a QB injury, Multiple Scoregams has only furthered proved Luke Combs song that football will indeed break your heart, and therefore God bless beer. While Multiple Scoregams, as a loyal Jets fan, will be looking to defeat and destroy Patriots fan and owner of Team Canada, she’s gonna need a fuck ton of luck to pull it off. Team Canada’s X Factor will be a hurt James Connor looking to carry the workload after losing QB Ben Roethlisberger for the season and and team Multiple Scoregasms will be looking for anyone that can give her the points because just like her team name states it’s looking like she is looking for both. Currently the predictions for Team Canada lie at 137 and Multiple Scoregasms lie at 127. While we suspect that Team Canada will win or whatever, we all know that everyone is rooting for “orgasms”.

Well that sums up the week three matchup predictions fellow friends and rivals. Good luck this week and may all your combats lead to victory!

[sportsleague365]

As other teams continue to finalize pivotal extensions, work remains for the Cowboys on this front. Contract talks are ongoing for Dallas’ standout trio — Ezekiel Elliott, Dak Prescott, Amari Cooper — entering the team’s first preseason game, and ESPN.com’s Todd Archer notes none of these contracts is particularly close to being done. Nevertheless, Jerry Jones remains confident. “You just know like so many things it’ll happen. It’ll happen,” Jones said of the extensions. “There literally is no concern on my part at all about any timeframe. That’ll happen. The results are too good for them and too good for the Cowboys. Think about it a minute. The results are too good for them and too good for the Cowboys. That always happens when it’s good for both (sides).” Cowboys executive VP Stephen Jones has mentioned possible team-friendly discounts for these players, due to the financial opportunities that come with playing with this particular franchise, and added the team not does not intend to set positional markets. (For what it’s worth, the Cowboys set the guard market last summer with Zack Martin.) Elliott, however, remains a holdout — with two days remaining until the Aug. 6 date that will determine whether the running back is a UFA or an RFA in 2020 — and Prescott does not sound receptiveto a Cowboys-friendly deal. Going from the Cowboys’ off-field matters to some of their rivals’ on-field setups, here is the NFC East’s latest: * Although Colt McCoy spent the offseason rehabbing a broken leg, he emerged as the Redskins‘ starting quarterback on their first depth chart. It is not certain he will take the snaps in Week 1, but J.P. Finlay of NBC Sports Washington indicates camp work thus far has revealed this competition has become a two-man battle between McCoy and Case Keenum. It should be expected Dwayne Haskins takes over at some point this season, but Finlay notes the first-round pick has not looked ready yet. Haskins sits as Washington’s QB3 on the first depth chart. * Despite Dexter Lawrence tipping the scales north of 340 pounds, the Giants are playing him as a five-technique defensive end, Ryan Dunleavy of NJ.com notes. This will accommodate the 318-pound Dalvin Tomlinson, who moved from end to tackle after Damon Harrison was traded midseason. Tomlinson is indeed operating as Big Blue’s first-string nose. Lawrence played the nose spot at Clemson but has impressed the Giants with his pass-rushing ability this offseason. The mammoth defensive lineman registered 1.5 sacks last season but collected 6.5 as a freshman in 2016. Either way, New York will boast a physically imposing defensive front. * Darius Slayton‘s encouraging offseason has not yet translated to camp, with the rookie wide receiver joining some higher-profile Giants wideouts in being unavailable. Slayton has missed 10 consecutive practices because of a hamstring injury, Dunleavy notes. For the non-Giants-following sect, Sterling Shepard broke his thumb, Corey Coleman tore his ACL and Golden Tate received a four-game suspension since camp began. #DariusSlayton #CaseKeenum #DakPrescott