#you are already leagues better than this shite could ever be.
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A Treasure Hunter’s End - An Epilogue
Mood music
“So....how’re you two holdin’ up?”
It was one of the quieter evenings at The Hard Place as the four of them sat at a mostly clean table, drinks before them. Orion, C’ravi, Leila, and Raih’a were all that were left of the Blackhawks now. Galahad had turned to monkhood, pleading his body and soul to Rhalgr to atone for all he’d done. According to Leila, Jajaya had ‘fucked off’ when things started getting too weird. Elias, the mage they’d hired to fill the talents left by Orion was dead...as was the manipulative, power-hungry woman from whom the group had gotten its name, Alyss Blackhawk.
“I’m...not sure.” Leila idly swiped a thumb against the perspiration on her glass as she considered Orion’s question. The markswoman met eyes with Raih’a for a brief moment. The four of them had mostly recovered from the events of the week prior, at least physically. C’ravi and Leila had a few new scars, the former mostly from being flung into a crystal pillar, while the latter from having to fight back some Shades that had gotten too close to her. Raih’a, however, had visible bandages peeking out from beneath his clothes; getting stabbed and being left to die by your own boss tended to take longer to heal, on all fronts. Orion, somehow, managed to look the best of them all despite being the one to actually die.
“I want to hate her for everything she did. I really do. Part of me though...there’s a part of me that still thinks about her...and misses her. I know intellectually that what she had for me—”, she looked to Raih’a then, “for us, wasn’t love. I know she just wanted people to control and keep around her to make herself feel better, but...I don’t think that changes how I felt for her once. At least, not yet.” Raih’a’s own eyes fell down to his drink, wordlessly agreeing with Leila.
Orion looked to the pair of them, but struggled to find the words to respond...so instead he looked to C’ravi, the more emotionally adjusted sibling.
“Feelins are complicated.” The younger sibling spoke, sparing Orion a glance. The latter merely rolled his eyes, as if to say ‘Well I could’a said that much.’
“But it sounds like you’re makin’ the right steps by even acknowledgin’ that much. I think, like with a physical wound, it’ll just take time for how ya feel t’settle.” Ravi offered the pair a sympathetic smile.
“Yeah, what he said.” Orion added helpfully. “An’ uh, you know, if you ever wanna talk about it or some shite...Ravi’s always available.” There was a thud from under the table as Ravi kicked Orion’s foot, eliciting a well-deserved ‘ow’. “Me too, o’ course.”, he added hastily.
Raih’a rolled his eyes, albeit with a smirk. ‘How kind of you to offer.’, the gaze said.
“Thanks, Ravi.” Leila offered the younger sibling a warm smile. “It’s a good thing at least one of the Coeurl brothers got the brains.” The table erupted into laughter then, even Raih’a’s raspy voice could be heard amidst the din. Orion, meanwhile, rolled his eyes and knocked back a third of his drink. The tiniest upturn at the corner of his mouth did not go unmissed by Ravi, however. The group got a couple of stares from the few other patrons who were trying to have an undisturbed evening of lonely drinking.
“So Rhanvir, what’s next?” Leila leaned forward on the table with her arms crossed.
“What do ya mean?” The older Seeker cocked an eyebrow.
“You know. I know you two are going to Radz-at-Han for a bit, but I mean if I know you, you’ve already got your eyes set on something new.” As Leila pressed, Raih’a too showed his interest by leaning forward. Ravi also looked to Orion then; he’d posed his brother the same question a few days ago, but had gotten nothing.
“Well…” Orion looked between the three of them. “I’m thinkin’ it might be time for a slight career change.” Raih’a nearly spit out his drink then.
“Wait, Rhanv”, Ravi began, brows knit together, “you’re not sayin’ you’re...quittin’ treasure huntin’, are ya?”
“Maybe he’s still possessed.” Leila offered, only half-joking as she scrutinized the man. Raih’a leaned back in his seat and watched quietly.
‘Curious.’
“It’s...somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ of since my friends an’ I went down into that Gelmorran colony.” Orion rubbed at the back of his neck. “I dunno. It just doesn’t feel...right anymore t’take things, even from the dead. One o’ the things I think I’ve learned after everythin’ that went on is that...well, dead doesn’t mean gone.”
Ravi had twisted to the side, leaning against the table with one arm as he watched his brother, astonished.
“So what, you’re gonna pack it all up and find a boring life...I don’t know, I can’t even come up with an example because I can’t imagine you doing anything other than diving into ruins. I know you only really got into it because...Alyss took you in, but that aside it really did seem like that kinda thing was your calling.” Leila continued to eye him dubiously.
“Wait wait wait, who said I was gonna stop doin’ all that?” Orion interrupted, “I just mean I’m not gonna take anythin’ that’s not mine t’take...no matter how good it might look on my shelves...”
Raih’a gave a small snort, ‘There he is.’
“So then...what are you gonna do?” The younger sibling inquired, sharing Leila’s perplexed look.
“Well, one o’ the other things I learned is that there are”, Orion sighed then, putting a hand to his forehead as he shook his head, “—Wanderer...I’m gonna sound like Khron—” he muttered, “plenty o’ stories out there left t’be uncovered; some o’ them might need puttin’ to rest, even. There’s a ton o’ magic out there in the world it seems, some of it wild an’ causin’ trouble, an’ I dunno. After what we did underground...it felt...good, like real good, t’be able t’set all those trapped souls free an’ help ‘em move on. I wanna do more o’ that. Who knows what other kinda shite like that is goin’ on that no one knows anythin’ about?” Orion paused then, looking at the other three to gauge their reactions.
“Well, color me impressed. It looks like a coeurl really can change his spots.” Leila snorted, crossing her arms.
“That sounds...real dangerous though, especially alone. What if ya get hurt?” Ravi probed with concern.
“Well, I wasn’t really plannin’ on goin’ it alone. I was gonna wait ‘til after we got back from Thavnair an’ after I’d thought on it more, but I was thinkin’ I’d ask the three o’ you—an’ some o’ the others—if you’d wanna uh…”, he gestured vaguely with his hands, “y’know…”
Ravi smirked triumphantly then, the smugness on his being palpable, “You’re goin’ t’have t’say the words, Rhanvir.”
Orion sighed, shooting his sibling a weary look, “...If you’d wanna help me out.”
Leila and Raih’a looked at each other then.
‘I thought you wanted to go straight?’ Raiha’s eyes seemed to say.
“Well, it sounds like our old coworker’s found a way to make that a lot less boring than I thought it’d have to be.” Leila stated in response aloud.
‘True...but is that really the life for us? After everything?’
“It’s kind of all we know. Besides, it’d be kind of nice to see the world just to...see it”
‘And not because someone has something we—she wanted?’
“Yeah…”
Orion and Ravi watched the conversation, even if they only heard Leila’s side of it. While the siblings had spent enough time with Raih’a to be able to read him to some degree, only Leila truly understood the mute Keeper.
‘I suppose...it’s better than being alone.’
“You won’t be. Not again.” Leila reached over and put a hand on Raih’a’s, squeezing it gently.
‘Thanks.’ Raih’a smiled before casting a glance in Orion’s direction, who offered him a broad, hopeful grin in return.
‘...He’s gotten frustratingly handsome since the last time we sat down like this.’ Raih’a’s eyes rolled, a subtle blush dashing his cheeks.
Leila let out a small, scandalized gasp then. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”
‘Don’t you dare.’ Raih’a’s gaze smoldered, brow creasing tightly.
“Tell me what? What’d he say?” Orion asked, raising an eyebrow. “If he’s said somethin’ mean about me, I’ve got the right t’defend myself. Whatever he said, it’s wrong.”
Leila’s face tightened as she struggled desperately to hold back the laugh that shook her body then, before ultimately shaking her head,
“He just said he’s in.” The woman smirked, wrapping a hand around her drink. “I am too. Sounds like a lot of fun.”
The Seeker beamed then and raised his glass to toast before pausing and turning to Ravi,
“Wait...what about you, Ravi? You’re in….right?” Orion’s voice quieted a bit as he asked his sibling. Things still weren’t perfect between them; they’d talked some more once they got back from the Aetherial Sea and while Orion’s actions there had done leagues to prove to Ravi that Orion was a changing man, it wasn’t easy to bridge years of being apart. That awkwardness still lingered, albeit much less so now than before, and it was something each of them felt.
“If it means finally gettin’ t’see the world with ya like we’d set out t’do all those years ago...then yeah, of course I’m in.” The younger sibling smiled warmly at him before raising his flagon to clink it against Orion’s. “Besides, you’re gonna need me. Like Leila said, I’m the one that got the brains.”
The table of former thieves broke into a cacophonous laughter once more as the evening wore on.
#[Plot | Relics of the Past]#[The Blackhawk Vagabonds]#The epilogue to the plot I just finished running#[Drabbles | Orion]
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Assuming someone in the BatFam is the end game:
It's been only a week or so since Tony figured out who Ladybug is
She's captured everyone's hearts, but has to go to Gotham soon
For help, but also because of her internship
The Stark Gala becomes a 'you better live and come back one day, Mari or I STG' party, hosted by Tony Stark, of course
She makes all the outfits of the Starks, her parents, herself, Jagged, Penny, Luka, and Kagami (the last two friends minus Chloe from Paris) and she makes extra in case someone has a wardrobe malfunction
Meanwhile, the Waynes have heard a lot about the newest Stark: MDC
Tim is a fanboy. He's found everything related to his favorite rock star's designer/niece there is to find ("I'm not obsessed! They're just super talented, and I'd like something from them! Stop laughing at me, Dick!")
Dick has no room to tease him, as both him and Jason are pretty much in the same boat
Kor'i and Mar'i love MDC, as well
Every one of the Bats are huge Jagged Stone fans
Like... Nearly rabid
(Damian, Bruce, and Alfred redact that statement)
They're invited to Tony's gala thing (he only started it to surpass the Wayne Gala, like the Lil Shite he is)
The night of the party, only Bruce and Jason go, since the rest of the bats are busy
Bruce, Jagged (who brought Fang), and Tony are all chatting in the middle of the floor, 2/3rds of the group are just talking up Marinette
Jason, meanwhile, accidentally runs into this small, adorable child who proceeds to spill her punch all over his suit
He insists it's fine, but she won't take 'no' for an answer ("I am so sorry, please let me make it up to you" "Kid, it's fine, accidents happen" "No, seriously, let me help")
There's a look in her eyes that insists she do something, and he eventually agrees
Cue to Marinette having a suit jacket that matches and fits Jason because "You look like you're the same build as Mr. Stark (she's all for joining Peter in calling Tony 'Mr. Stark' to get under his skin)"
"you know Tony?"
She shrugs, and doesn't comment anymore on it
"give me your address, and I'll bring this back when it's clean again. I'm moving to Gotham for a while soon, anyway"
He does, she doesn't realize he's a Wayne, and they part when the party ends
Cue the entire BatFam sprinting into Jason's room, chasing after a full on scream
Like, they didn't know Jason's voice could get "so high and squeaky, what the hecc?"
They pause as they see Jason litterally jumping up and down
"What the hell, Todd."
Instead of answering, he shoves the jacket in Tim's face with a shite-eating grin
It takes a moment, but Tim scowls and pulls out his wallet
When the rest of the family only look confused, Tim sighs and explains
"He got an MDC original first."
"...you had a bet on that?"
Jason freezes, eyes widening
"HOLY SH*T, I MET THE MDC! SHE WAS SO TINY, OH MY GOD, BATS, WE HAVE TO ADOPT HER!"
They're confused for a solid minute
"YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHES AN ANGEL AND HAS BLACK HAIR AND BLUE EYES!! SHE'S OBVIOUSLY A WAYNE!"
It takes all of Bruce's willpower not to adopt her on the spot when she visits them
Like, he almost brings up adoption papers
But he knows Stark would fight tooth and nail to keep this baby
So he restrains himself
(for now)
(he swears if one of his children doesn't marry her, he's bringing the adoption papers to court)
She doesn't stay long, only meeting all the Waynes at the house and going back to her hotel
The next day, a villain goes after Mar'i, near the park/mall/something Marinette is by
Instead of becoming Ladybug, she heccin kicks arse
As Marinette
She gets both her and Mar'i out of danger without a scratch using a yo-yo of all things and meets Batman and Robin as they clean up the rest
She's all like "no, it's alright, I'm sure anyone would do the same please stop thanking me, my family's gonna kick my ass to next year for scaring them like this"
Bats comes up and takes her statement, and she happens to mention the situation in Paris
"oh, this was nothing compared to some of the Akuma I've faced" "What's an akuma?" She paled, eyes widening in shock. "You don't know? About Ladybug, Chat Noir, Ryuuko, Viperion, Queen Bee, Red Wasp, Multimouse, Hawkmoth, Mayura, Carapace, Rena Rouge, and all them?"
She explains a little, giving basic information everyone knew, then shows him the app she made a while ago
The Akuma Alert app that held much more than just akuma-related things
She leaves soon after, and Batman has a goal in mind
Within the day, Diana is furious at the lack of response towards the Paris situation
"This Ladybug was left alone for all this time?! Shame on you all, leaving my mother's successor alone!"
When Ladybug is later spotted (hehe, get it?) in Gotham, the entire BatFam finds her and gets her in touch with the League
She explains how she asked both the League and the Avengers for help, all those years ago, and was pushed aside with warnings not to send in prank calls anymore
Of course, Iron Man has already looked into it, but he's not exactly a detective and the more brains on this, the better
Meanwhile, as civilians...
The normal shipping stuff happens
With the exception that nearly every criminal in Gotham low-key adopts Marinette
They may think she's the next Wayne, but the Angel of Gotham is off limits
And not because the little Wayne chases after anyone who even looks at her wrong with a katana
Not just as Robin. As Damian
Marinette actually meets a few villains on the street
She was going to a commission, carrying some hero, vigilante, and villain themed macaroons when she got lost
(before meeting the Waynes officially, actually)
She was in a park, looking lost when Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn came up
She offered treats, and ever since she's the Angel of Gotham
Once, when on a date with her romantic interest, Killer Croc tried taking the restaurant hostage after robbing a bank
Key word: tried
Marinette calmly slipped behind him, grabbed his tail, and dragged his butt outta there
(he blames the fast French girl and the tile on the floor, which didn't let him get a good grip)
By the time Bats and the police got there, Croc was in tears as this tiny French girl lectured him about manners and interrupting dates
(the BatFam can't think of a funnier time)
When the Joker actually kidnaps her as a way to get to Batman, literally everyone rages a rescue mission
Harley, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze (Marinette reminds him of the daughter he's always wanted, with his frozen wife), Two-Face (Marinette talked philosophy with him, showing him he still had choices beyond the black and white), Killer Crock (who was impressed by the tiny French girl who threw him out of a restaurant by his tail that one time), Batman, Robin, the Teen Titans, Red Hood, Red Robin, Wonder Woman (she could feel Tikki's influence on Marinette and guessed her identity), Nightwing, all the Avengers, Red Wasp (Chloe, with the Bee Miraculous because she earned it back ages ago), Sabine (no one messed with her baby. No one), a teenage boy wielding a potato gun (who let this kid here?), Pepper, Penny (the two women were fast friends, bonding over their husbands' eccentric ways), Jagged with Fang, Audrey Bourgeois, and the entire police force storm the Joker's hideout
He didn't have a chance
Later, they admit it was kinda funny watching the small Sabine beating the crap out of the deranged clown
Fang, who was usually a puppy with scales, didn't hesitate to bite off the Joker's hand, reminiscent of Captain Hook and the Croc
Marinette's fine (or not, depending on how much angst you want in the story. It's easy to have her tourtured and nearly killed in the Joker's clutches {or actually killed and focused on angst from everyone who knew her [possible heavy Lila/class salt]} and see her move past her PTSD) and she gets home eventually
Around this time, she's made the Guardian of the Miraculous
She eventually goes back to Paris with her huge family (or everyone she thinks could keep their emotions in check)
They kick Gabriel's arse, but Adrien gets away with his mother (who was healed by Ladybug)
Possible second book
Marinette's ship becomes the Black Cat
Time skip, fiveish years later, some of Marinette's classmates see her for the first time since she left
They insult and sass her, not changed since school
Her S/O scowls and debunks them easily, defending Marinette
When they don't stop, Marinette's S/O calls Bruce, Tony, Jagged, and the rest of the League and the Avengers to destroy the morons in the class because they know how long they've waited for this moment
Mari puts her head in her hands, but doesn't stop them because she knows how long they've waited for this moment
Three hours later, the speeches and lectures aren't done yet
Lila eventually goes to Gotham or wherever Marinette is, and tries to warn the person on her arm about Marinette's 'bulling tendencies'
That gets another lecture
Or, her class gets a tour at either SI or WE, depending on when in the story you write it (could be both, and the class just doesn't learn or Tony, Pepper, and their kids were visiting WE to talk about Mari Protection Measures when they overhear it)
Lila goes off on how Mari's S/O is actually Lila's, or how she's BFFS with Batman/Iron Man/ Bruce Wayne and his kids/ Tony Stark and his kids/ the Avengers/ the Justice League
Cue the class seeing Mari
Instant bullying
The resident children and billionaire steps up, insulting and embarrassing the class while defending Mari
Lila tries to turn it around, but they're having none of that
First the kids jump at the chance to defend their little sister and/or girlfriend, then the big guns show up
At WE, it's Bruce, a highly protective Jason, and Tim, who has every single sin/mean thing/lie pulled up in a folder
It's thicker than his hand, and hard to hold
It's both in digital and physical form and sent to every single member of Mari's family- blood related or not
At SI, it's Tony and Pepper
FRIDAY steps up, too
Harley shoots Lila with the potato gun mk 3 until she leaves
The class don't know what they did wrong, but they swear to make it up just to get the scary CEOs and relatives
Also, if anyone knows the AU where Marinette was a street kid with Jason and his little sister (I can't remember who made it or what it was called, but I fell in l o v e), that could work with this one too. Jason would be so proud of his Lil sister being so famous and awesome and "how dare you let me think you were dead!! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!" "I made you worried?! You up and nearly got killed last I checked!"
Jason swore not to tell her he actually died once. He prays she never finds out.
@tired-butterfly @evil-elf16 @doggiediva13 @krispydefendorpolice @mochegato @legallyspawned @kryptored
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Shigaraki Tomura x Reader Dry Humping Headcanons NSFW
This is my first headcanon post...so it’ll be shite, especially since I’m writing for this cute lil freak. Just wanna add there will be spoilers to Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia) and I do not own the character at all.
Trigger warning: Bad language (I swear a lot), Shiggy being creepy, spoilers, NSFW dry humping scene but not full on sex, also Shiggy’s a bit OOC...
also cringe ahead.
- When you first met Shiggy, you came to the LOV’s hideout with Dabi ‘n’ Toga (how original)
- You weren't rude like him or batshit crazy like her, you were...normal?
- What was someone like you doing in a place like this?
- Does he ask? No. Did he want to? Yes. Why didn't he?
- Too busy.
- Not that important.
- The truth was the mere thought of talking to you one to one made him feel like his heart was in his throat. So much so he couldn't breath.
- His face would feel hot.
- His mouth would dry out.
- His leg would bounce up and down uncontrollably.
- And just everything would become distorted. Sound, sight, touch and smell.
- And don't get me started on how you'd make his cock twinge ever so slightly.
- Jesus, was he sick? Why did you start making him feel like this?
- He didn't properly talk to you until after a stressful mission, he came back tired, stressed and out of breath.
- Everything was hazy and moving in slow motion.
- But when he bumped into you...
- Everything felt safe, comfortable, complete.
- If you asked him he'd just say you made things better. That’s all.
- He didn't remember how the conversation started but somehow you both got to why you joined.
- You had witnessed hero society first hand when you and a few friends decided to conduct an experiment that could've gotten you into trouble with some heroes.
- You had walked around the city looking like you'd been attacked and wounded while your friends filmed the bystanders reactions from afar.
- No one helped, all they did was look away.
- You found it pitiful, you wanted to make everyone suffer and teach them to help others in their time of need.
- You didn't care if you had to become the bad guy to do some good.
- Things had to change.
- You didn't realise you were ranting until you turned to Tomura.
- He was just staring at you, a look of interest and admiration on his crusty face.
- He thought you were so innocent yet so determined and brave, almost heroic even though you were part of the league.
- Everything about you drew him in.
- Your beauty.
- Your smell.
- Your beliefs.
- God your fucking eyes.
- Smile
- Hair
- Body
- Ass
- Tits
- The way you breathed.
- And talked.
- The way you talked so softly and passionately at the same time.
- He started noticing so many things about you.
- These new feelings were getting overwhelming.
- Everything made him want to touch you.
- Kiss you.
- Rub you.
- Fuck you.
- God this isn some crush anymore it’s a fucking obsession.
- He doesn’t want you, if anything he wants you to stay away.
- He needs you, so much so he’s scared he’ll lose control.
- He doesn't want to do anything too harsh to scare you off. Just enough for him to know you’ll still be around and not dispise him completely.
- Maybe he coul-
- “Shigaraki-san?”
- He snapped back into reality.
- He was now sitting closely to you on the couch, your thighs touching his. His face a breath away from yours.
- He didn't realise he had gotten so close.
- “Are you, ok? You kind of zoned out while I was talking”.
- Tomura stiffened as sound of you voice sent strange feelings straight to his member.
- Now or never, might as well get it over with.
- He carefully leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your lips.
- His lips were chapped but that didn't matter, they had barely even touched yours and it was so brief you'd have to blink to miss it.
- He stared at you and you stared back intensely.
- You hands quickly wrap around the back of his scratched up neck and pull him in roughly for another kiss before he could leave.
- He’s in shock for a split second. so many thoughts were racing through his brain.
- Why weren't you running?
- He coud kill you right now.
- You’re making a big mistake.
- But he was already in love with the feeling of your lips on his.
- He let his hormones take over.
- And kissed back just as hard.
- He let his arms wrap round you waist and rested his hands on your hips, making sure to lift up a finger on each hand.
- He pulled you onto his lap without breaking the delicious contact with your lips as his hands made there way down to your short skirt.
- Your hands tangled themselves in his light blue locks, though they looked knotted and unkept they were pretty damn soft. You gave them a slight tug and he gasped quietly and swiftly moved his hands under your skirt to your panty clad ass, grasping it tightly and grinding it on his clothed erection.
-Which was now hard as a rock, and fucking huge.
- The only things between that and your dripping, tight little pussy was your underwear and his sweats, which were doing absolutely nothing to cover his large, aching cock.
- As your hips moved in sync, his mouth had made its way to your neck, littering it with kisses and love bites. He hummed aggressively against your sweet spot as your ground your wet panty covered pussy on his bulge.
- You were moaning like a bitch in heat as the feeling of his sweats over his hard cock rubbed your swollen clit over and over again sending shockwaves throughout you body. Your keep one hand in his hair, softy clutching it and massaging his scalp while the other snuck down between her legs.
- Tomura’s eyes widened as you lifted yourself up and pulled your underwear to the side and started grinding on his clothed dick again, moaning even louder than before, not caring if anyone could hear.
- “F-fuck Y/N, this is-is incrediBLe”
- “Hah, Shi-Shigaraki-s-san”
- “Tomura” He growled out. Fuck he was getting so close.
- Before you could speak, he forced his tongue into your mouth and battled your own for dominance and muffling your erotic cries.
- He was now humping up at your naked pussy fast and hard, desperate for release, you could feel his hard cock pulsing and throbbing through his sweatpants.
- You could also feel yourself coming undone on his lap. Your pussy was about to-to!
_ “Tomura I-I’m cumming!”
- “Me t-too, Fuck!” he cried as his strong thrusts became unhinged and erratic. With a final three thrusts he filled his pants up with his hot cum, over and over again as you shook against him, soaking his pants with your juices.
- Tomura sat on the couch breathing heavily, his quivering member shrinking in his pants, completely drained. His body shined with sweat and his heart was beating rapidly. He turned his head to look at you in his lap.
- Sweat covered your body like his and you twitched a couple times after your release. Your sleepy eyes glossed over with lust as you looked back at him with a lovesick expression, which he gladly returned.
- It took a little while afterwards for you both to get your energy back, but once you did, Tomura and you made your ways to the shower to “clean up”.
Ok, done, this is my first time posting so I’m well aware this isn't a piece of art. Feel free to request one-shots, head canons, nsfw I’m not too bothered, I do need time to figure out what I won't do. Also if you know anyways I can improve please let me know, I’m clearly very desperate for help.
Anyway thanks for reading!! Love you!
#shigaraki smut#bnha shigaraki#shigaraki tomura#tenko shimura#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki fluff#shigaraki headcanons#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#shigarakilemon#tomurashigaraki#headcanons#smut#bnha smut#xreader#reader
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Sonic Villains: Sweet or Shite? - Part 10: INFINITE
There are some villains I like. And there are some villains I don’t like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That’s where this comes in.
This is a series of mine in which I go into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the villains in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I’ll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves in the game(s) they featured in. Keep in mind that these are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don’t bite. :>
Anyhow, for today’s installment, we’ll be sharpening our blades and resisting the pain as we discuss what it takes to be the right-hand henchman of Sonic Forces: Infinite.
The Gist: Dr. Eggman was minding his evildoing business when one day, from thin air emerged a particularly strange jewel that seemed to be drawn to him. Realising this was no mere Chaos Emerald, due to both its peculiar shape and its bizarre reality-distorting effects, Eggman immediately contemplated how he could effectively utilise this new gemstone for his purposes.
Suddenly, jackals!
“Go forth, Red Shirts!”
Eggman's base was under attack by the imaginatively titled Jackal Squad, a group of thieving mercenaries who figured they could profit from the theft of the doctor's equipment. Unfortunately for them, Eggman had Main Character Immunity, so their efforts to kill him send him to the Shadow Realm fell flat. Despite nearly getting killed by them, Eggman knew an opportunity when he saw one, and he offered the role of apprenticeship to the squad's heterochromia-inflicted leader. His fellow jackals insisted not to take up the offer, because even they knew the risks, but the leader signed up immediately, because he's not all right in the head if you know what I'm saying.
In a cruel twist of fate, Eggman's first request for his new stooges was for them to take care of Shadow the Hedgehog. That Shadow the Hedgehog. Ultimate Lifeform Shadow the Hedgehog. Fast, immortal, capable of stopping time, drops his bracelets to grow even stronger Shadow the Hedgehog. They had to defeat that Shadow the Hedgehog.
They did not succeed.
BOOOONESAAAAAW’S READYYYYYYYY
After metaphorically and literally murdering the rest of the already forgotten squad, Shadow gave some parting words to their defeated leader, and those parting words were responsible for what happened next, and everything after. As someone who prided himself on being the ultimate mercenary, Mr. Jackal was bloody well peeved off about coming to terms with his physical shortcomings, and thus decided to give himself an upgrade in the form of sticking a gem on his chest, putting on a mask worthy of a heavy metal cover, and rechristening himself as... Infinite. Infinite power. Infinite possibilities. Infinite memes.
The upgrade paid off. With the aid of the gem, known to us as the Phantom Ruby, Eggman's latest minion was able to distort the environment, summon past foes, and do what no other villain not retconned out of existence had ever managed to achieve: defeat Sonic the Hedgehog.
Eggman was delighted. The past foes were delighted too, as evidenced by how they stood there to take it all in.
This is a very sentimental moment for them.
With Sonic out of the way, Eggman was able to take over 99% of the planet, because Sonic's friends were tragically all on holiday at the same time. During the subsequent six months of suffering and strife, Infinite relished in the doctor's conquest, but not as much as he relished in killing and terrorizing innocents. One incident in particular involved him leaving behind a scared youngster for the sake of letting them know fear. This would turn out to be a big mistake on his part, when - with the ever reliable power of friendship - said youngster would go on to oppose him as part of the Resistance. (This franchise isn't known for creative group names.)
“L’Oreal: Because I’m not weak.”
The formerly incapacitated Sonic also managed to eventually break free from his captivity, and proceeded to do what he does best alongside his new friend. Infinite was having none of this, and so he made absolutely certain to... leave him alive. Despite Eggman's insistence that a freed Sonic could cause as much trouble as a freed Sonic could in every other situation since 1991, Infinite remained confident that he couldn't be beaten. Three guesses for how that turned out. The first two don't count.
He was serious about crushing the Resistance though, and together with Eggman, not only did they summon a whole army of clones, they also summoned an artificial sun that, upon reaching the ground, would ensure the Resistance would meet a terrible fate. Good always triumphs however, and the clones were fought, the sun was vanquished, and Infinite himself was defeated once and for all.
It was at this point that Eggman decided to reveal that Infinite was a sham, a distraction, a red herring. For all his power, Infinite was little more than a glorified mook the whole time. Infinite was never the doctor's endgame. He was. Infinite didn't even have true mastery over the Phantom Ruby... but he did.
Death Chad Robot.
In just a few minutes, Eggman tapped into the power of the Ruby more than Infinite ever did, and overclocked it to turn his Doc Ock-looking mech into a beast. But through thick and thin (and a second Nega-Wisp Armor), Sonic and his ambiguously named friend teamed up to take the madman down, because we're Sonic Heroes.
The world was saved from further tyranny, and Eggman went on to either lose his memory or shrug it off to take part in racing spinoffs depending on the continuity. But Infinite - or rather, the jackal who called himself Infinite - remains absent. He could be alive. He could be dead. He could finally get a haircut. His fate is a mystery that we may never know the answer to. Maybe he's spending his retirement climbing the tallest of mountains.
The Design: Careful you don't cut yourself with all this edge.
You could have gotten yourself an eyepatch for half the price.
Demonic eyes, dark colours, anime hair... he's a villain alright. Infinite's design is unashamed of itself. It knows it's ridiculous, and it goes all out with it, which - let's be frank - matches the character in general pretty reasonably. Funnily enough, I don't have much else to say about it. It's not my favourite character design in the world, but I can credit them for pioneering loudspeaker ears. And at least he's not a hedgehog. Or an echidna.
If you listen carefully, you can hear Shadow sighing in relief under the knowledge that he's no longer the edgiest guy in the room.
The Personality: What's an easy way to make a villain a villain? By making them pointlessly sadistic, of course.
"You may call this the Sonic Chronicles soundtrack... in the brief moments that remain to your eardrums."
And I don't speak lightly when I say pointless. Infinite's penchant for sadism is actually treated as a character flaw, as it contributes heavily to his ultimate downfall. He wastes time by drawing out his kills, and his decision to leave his greatest foes alive because they're supposedly "not worth killing" bites him in the ass on more than one occasion. Even Eggman calls him out on his shitty decisions.
"Don't get cocky with me, son. This ain't the Adventure Era anymore.”
And this ties in with how he is in general. Infinite, for all his delusions of grandeur and nihilistic waxing, is a bit of a fuck up. Him and his squad combined couldn't even take on Eggman on his own (albeit with a Phantom Ruby in his possession), and when the mask comes on, it becomes clear that he only defeated Sonic through the element of unfamiliarity. Once Sonic starts to know about him and fights him for real, Infinite doesn't rely on the Phantom Ruby nearly as well as he could. He has a jewel that can do all sorts of distortions, and all he can think to do with it is use basic lasers and blasts for the most part. He's a thug at the end of the day. A powerful thug, but a thug all the same.
Despite this, though it's only hinted here and there, it seems that he has an Inferiority Superiority Complex. His passionate response to Shadow calling him pathetic (ironically, he never actually said he was weak) goes without saying, but then there's his dramatic speeches about having no hope, and how you can't count on anyone, and blah blah blah eat a Snickers already.
The Execution: Much like Erazor Djinn, you may have gathered that this character has a lot in common with everyone's favourite Ice Age antique, Mephiles the Dark. Like Erazor, Infinite is a better (albeit flawed) take on Mephiles' schtick, but whereas Erazor better emulates the success that Mephiles tried to go for, Infinite better represents the failure that Mephiles actually is... right down to showing how Silver would react if he had actual brain cells.
Above: Character development.
Hell, they both share the fate of getting swatted by Omega.
Not bitter at all.
Anyway, to explain this requires some elaboration. I'm aware that a lot of what I've said about Infinite sounds negative, and that's not entirely untrue, since I'll be the first to admit that he could have been handled a little better, and fleshed out a bit more, especially with all the pre-release hype and attention he was given. At the same time however, he's still leagues above the likes of Mephiles, for one simple reason that we discussed previously: his incompetence is intentional.
Maybe not fully - the pre-Infinite breakdown probably wasn't meant to be as comedic as it ended up being - but you can't tell me his setbacks weren't there on purpose. Eggman lost the war because Infinite left his enemies alive and free. Eggman lost the war because Infinite clumsily left a Phantom Ruby replica behind. Eggman lost the war because Infinite kept messing around when he had better things to do, didn't know what to do other than blindly attack when the chips were down, and got disposed of with little fanfare by the doctor after having failed him enough times. Compare all this to Eggman himself in the same game, who despite being known for his childishness and occasional shortsightedness, had a lot of genuine foresight to share around, and went from backup plan to backup plan like it was nothing.
In other words, Infinite could be seen as a well-needed deconstruction of villains like Mephiles, and why they're not as great as they look at first glance. And in that respect, he's kind of a genius concept.
“Ugh, MORE shitty friends...”
Infinite is a very divisive character, and I can see why. Alongside his far from perfect execution, many fans were expecting and hoping for a straight example of late 00's Sonic villains, in part because that's what the marketing and his infamous theme song set him up as and partly because '06 is now considered better than everything afterwards because Baldy McNosehair is literally oppressing all Sonic fans across the world. If you're like me on the other hand, and don't have the slightest unironic interest in those kind of villains, you can probably respect Infinite a little more for addressing the elephant in the room. And even though he is indeed flawed, I think most of that has to do with the wasted potential of the plot itself rather than anything inherently to do with Infinite's own character.
He's no Eggman, Erazor, Metal Sonic, or Hard-Boiled Heavies. But he's above Mephiles, Black Doom, Eggman Nega, and so many others who blend together after a while. Still, maybe someone should assist Shadow the next time he decides to insult somebody.
Crusher Gives Infinite a: Thumbs Sideways!
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ESC2019 Preshow: #01
01. SLOVENIA
Zala Kralj & Gašper Šantl - “Sebi”
SemiFinal 1, #05
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Oh come on, don’t act like you’re surprised! You KNOW dreamy, vulnerable electropop is my jam!😊 Zala and Gasper came at the right time to fill in the Electric Fields-shaped hole in my heart with their feverish intensity and I never looked back! There isn’t an Eurovision entry on this goddamn strong year that I support more than ZalaGasper!
ENTRY ANALYSIS
It’s hard to pinpoint the individual elements that make “Sebi” work so well, because they interlock with each other perfectly into a greater whole. I’d say the song is a full tier ahead of “Mercy” in terms of quality. It’s SO immersive. The moody, ambient, ethereal rhythm teleports me to a magical world of tranquility. “Sebi” is a closed loop of a song, in a stage of constant flux, an everflowing mantra meandering on and on as its captivating drone finds its way into your happy place.
The lyrics mark one of the few instances where I greatly appreciate poetry (seriously. look them up. they’re great) and provide a soothing balm to ease the most anxious of minds. “The future and the planet aren’t the best of friends and I am like a snowflake waiting for spring to come”. Chills
All of this would be great in itself, but not #1 worthy. What pushes it over the edge are heroes of my heart Zala and Gasper themselves, two people who never smile and have faces more well suited for Downton Abbey than Eurovision and yet when they are together their chemistry shines more brightly than Chinese fireworks. I dare you not to melt at this
They are one of the most disarming acts in Eurovision of... all time? lol yes, I think I can commit to that. Zala&Gasper are like a timeless promordial force of pathos and romance tied together by eternal fate, and I ship all of it. No more words need to be spoken. Whenever Gasper instinctively reaches for Zala’s hand as she observes him with a look of pure amorous longing etched onto her face, my heart explodes into a cloud of butterflies.
NF CORNER.
So in Portugal’s entry I promised I would resolved whether EMA or FdC was the best NF of the season (since Vidbir, the *actual* best NF isn’t eligible due to Ukraine’s withdrawal :-/) and I’ve decided that... EMA is better lol.
Part of the reason why EMA owned was that most of the acts chosen just entered to showcase their music, rather than try for eurovision, which is awesome because those are usually the BEST songs. Yes, EMA was imbibed with the SPIRIT of Eesti Laul this year.😍
One of my favourite EMA songs came courtesy of INMATE:
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Probably the BEST rock song in the entire Euroseason! "Atma” has so much energy and flow and had a certain ~Epicness~ which I thought other entries, such as Fatal Error’s “Kulcs”, Pagan Furies “Stormbringer” and Hank von Hell’s “Fake it” lacked. It would’ve made an excellent entry, but then again, so would ULA LOZAR:
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I’m glad Maraaya are already grooming a chose successor (seriously, Ula sounds *exactly* like Marjetka Vovk at several intervals lmfao) ! This EMA was too early for Ula, but if this is what she’s capable of, I would LOVE to see what else she can bring in future EMA’s, and let’s face it, future Eurovision Song Contests!
Maraaya had two entries, but sadly Kim pulled a Finegold and got her rhythm handed back to her, so I’ll just skip ahead for THE entry you’ve been wanting my thoughts on: K A O S
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At this moment, I would say that this was Raiven’s second best EMA effort, leagues ahead of “Crno bel” but a bit behind “Zazarim”. At the time of the NF however, I was OBSESSED with “Kaos”, on a level similar to my Electric Fields love. Can you blame me, it’s a brilliant song! (”The surface appears calm but inside me there is only CHAOS” is one of the most relatable lines in any song, ever)
Unfortunately, the execution wasn’t... just there for me (especially during the chorus).You see, I used to think Raiven lost because the juries pushed VERY HARD for her (as EMA juror and people’s princess Lea Sirk would be overheard saying; “FUCK I CAN’T BELIEVE RAIVEN LOST, WE RIGGED THE VOTE FOR HER” lmfao <3 <3 <3), but I think now that “Sebi” was always better than “Kaos” and the audience correctly recognized it lightyears ahead of us. 🤗 GJ, everyone!
Qualification Odds: Borderline (+)
Slovenia are doing pretty well with the odds and I really wish I could say that I FINALLY have a fave who won’t ECHO ECHO and FLOP, but Slovenia are NEVER safe, even if a lot of people righteously love “Sebi”.
The problem is that “Sebi” is the type of song that gets better with every play and Eurovision is all about *instantly* hooking the audience and jurors before they realize you’re actually shite. Grower songs are always at a disadvantage, especially Slovene ones.
It will all depend on how intense Slovenia can make the staging. It’s not as if they need much, Common Linnets-esque staging will be more than sufficient. It’s a question of whether it will be enough to IMMEDIATELY click with the casuals, since they only have one chance to do so. Mess it up and they get O Jardim’ed out of here.
Regardless, I think ZalaGasper could do quite well in the Grand Final? Their success hinges entirely on whether the audience will ship them or not, so if they do qualify it will mean that the audience loved them and they have enough inherent support do finish somewhere in the upper-middle portion of the scoreboard. I think it could very well happen, I have faith in them and if prayer doesn’t work, I’ll gladly bankrupt myself by casting the 40 votes for “Sebi” they rightfully deserve!
Projected placement: 8th-12th in the SemiFinal. If they qualify, Zala&Gasper will finish 8th-16th in the Grand Final.
AND THAN CONCLUDES THE RANKING!!! I hope you’ve enjoyed it! I probably won’t have the time to do a full 2019 post-show ranking due to irl obligations (May/June are two very busy months for me), but I’ll keep you posted! Have fun and take care!
Feel free the other entries with this link to the masterpost
#Eurovision#Eurovision Song Contest#Eurovision 2019#ESC2019#Slovenia#zala kralj & gašper šantl#Zala Kralj#Gasper Santl#Sebi
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title: here comes the solrock | chapter three.
pairing: mclennon, (paul mccartney/john lennon) | starrison, (ringo starr/george harrison).
summary: it’s the Monday after, aspiring pokémon trainer, Paul McCartney’s eighteenth birthday. It was today where he would get his first pokémon and start his journey to the regional Pokémon League. A journey which would prove itself to be filled with adventure, friendship, danger and romance.
author’s note: finally bought ultra moon and super mystery dungeon & there’s also detective pikachu soon for which pokémon go also have an event... wowsa, so expect a hike in pokémon related stuff, (possibly... we’ll see) | also !! new pairing rears its head as ringo finally appears in the story.
also on ao3!
Tuesday, June 21st,
It was early in the morning. Very early. George had slept over at Paul’s house and when they woke at the crack at dawn, they were quick to get out of the house and out into the summer morning. To just get the day and adventure started.
They both had lied to their parents about their plans. That it was just a recreational trip to Blackpool to belatedly celebrate Paul’s birthday. Paul knew he should have felt bad about it. Lying with such ease to his father but, he just didn’t. It was to help someone and, honestly it was exciting. He could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he crossed the road towards the docks.
Traffic was stalled as a wild Snorlax had gotten lost on its way through the city and was now blocking traffic as it had fallen asleep on the slowly warming asphalt in the middle of a four-way road crossing. Both George and Paul had difficulties in hiding their laughter as police tried in vain to move the giant Pokémon.
It wasn’t uncommon for wild Pokémon to get into the city but rarely was it ever something as big as a Snorlax.
It was nearing their time to meet John but luckily as they turned a corner; they were met with the sights of clear weather and blue skies. It was the docks and since it was still early morning, loads of workers were running around carrying things that varied from clipboards to crates. Beside them were typical Pokémon like Machops or others that could handle heavy duty lifting.
They finally reached the arcade, only minutes before their meeting time, and saw that John was leaning against the wall of the old building. His arms were crossed as he looked to be talking to the Charmander by his side. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt with a leather jacket hanging around his waist. Paul swallowed and had to admit to himself; it looked great on the older boy.
The Charmander looked to the oncoming boys and immediately waddled its way over to Walton with squeaks which in turn Walton hissed at. “Be nice,” Paul quickly whispered down to his Snivy. Walton huffed in response.
John turned his head, his eyesight following his Pokémon until it then looked up to Paul and George with a nod in greeting, “finally decided to show up, eh?” He said with a curtate laugh and stepped away from the wall.
“We’re not late, are we,” George stated and it was clear that it wasn’t a question. John just shrugged in response and went past them and towards the road. Paul and George looked at each other, no words were spoken, before they then followed with the Pokémon in tow.
Paul stepped up the side of John and silently studied his new acquaintance. His quiff looked intricately worked on. With success as it looked better than the one ruined by rain yesterday. His drainpipe jeans fitted well around his thighs and Paul’s heart jumped at the sight.
Oh, he had to get it together. Sure, John was attractive. And Paul had noticed stares John had sent his way. And he was not the first man to interest Paul in this way either. But this was hardly the time or place for it. Nor could he jeopardise the… mission.
Luckily, John spoke which helped Paul take his mind away from that, “the trip to Blackpool will take two hours. The inn won’t be far from the station.”
He didn’t appear to have finished with handing out the information but stopped either way as they looked both ways of the road before crossing. It was almost deserted, strange for this time of day, aside from a van or two.
“I know the way to the inn. I’ve been there before. Absolute shite and not a place where I’ll be surprised to find Pokémon snatchers,” he sneered and Paul wondered about the history between the place and John that made him talk of it with such venom.
They reached the station grounds in silence, aside from the various sounds from their Pokémon. Who seemed to be getting along well, luckily. For Paul; he had been unsure of what to talk about with this new person. And George was usually very talkative but not around people he had just meet which explained his position in all of it.
The station was busy. Locals and tourists alike rushing from one point to another. Official places like this had a height limit for Pokémon so there was nothing taller than a, for example, Purugly. And, boy, was the name fitting Paul thought as the cat Pokémon waddled by. Paul poked George harshly in his side and nodded towards the Pokémon with a snicker. But as if it knew; it suddenly snapped its head towards with a frown, scaring the boys and they started to walk faster towards the platform they needed to go too.
John who had seen the interaction gave a bark of laughter as the boys power walked past him with Walton close behind them.
They quickly found the platform where the train already had arrived and where only waiting for passengers and for the time to be right. They got on board and found their seats for the trip; marked with numbers and a small picture of the train company’s logo. It was the Pokémon Emolga, and if Paul remembered correctly; their motto was something along the lines of ‘Powering your way forward’.
George had hurried his way to the window seat which left Paul squished in between him and George. It was cheap seats with not a lot of room for… anything really. Especially not your legs. Walton was nestled in George’s lap and was looking out the window too at the hurrying people out on the platform. Paul looked around for John’s Charmander and realised it was nowhere to be seen and that John instead had a Weedle in his lap.
“Hey… Where’s your Charmander?” Paul realised he had never been told its name.
“Wesley? … I put him back in his ball. The open flame is… risky in places like this.”
Paul nodded at the new information while looking down at the new Pokémon and couldn’t resist cooing as it stared back up at him, “and who’s this little fella?”
There was a beat of silence and Paul glanced at John. His facial expression was unreadable as he just looked down at the Weedle and Paul. He blinked, as if shook out of his train of thoughts, and answered; “that’s Prudence.”
“Oooh,” Paul looked back to the Weedle. He had never been quite fond of bug types but this one was somehow more adorable than any of the other Weedles than he had ever seen. He wasn’t sure of why. Couldn’t possibly have anything to do with its owner though… Right?
A jolt shot through the train and it started moving slowly out of the station. The journey would take three and a half hours, stuck tightly between his best friend and this (attractive) almost stranger. He knew from previous trips with this company that a cart of refreshment with roll by thirty minutes into the trip and he had to get something to drink, and something for Walton too.
The half an hour passed by quickly in silence as John stared into a book, George had been looking out the window at the landscape while Paul had fallen asleep fairly quickly into the ride.
He was awoken to a light stirring and the sound of wheels. It was the cart. But more importantly; he realised he had fallen asleep with his head on John’s shoulder and muttered his apologies as he looked over him towards the cart.
John didn’t comment on it and ordered a coffee as an old man arrived with a Chansey close behind. Paul ordered a water bottle and a small bag of mixed berries that he meant to share. George ordered something to drink too and a bag of crisps. Paul quickly tore open the bag and separated the berries into neat equal sizes and placed them on the small tables on the chairs in front of the Pokémon.
Walton grabbed a single berry with his tiny hands and gently nibbled on it. The Weedle stretched out and swallowed each berry in a single bite.
“So,” Paul started and looked to John who glanced up from his book somehow knowing it was meant for him and looked over to Paul. “You’ve been to Blackpool and this… club?”
He pulled a face as he gave an affirmative answer. He didn’t seem proud of having been there.
“Blackpool is… fine. Even fun. But this club has little going for it anymore since they changed management,” he sighed. “Don’t know who they are but they’re too willing to indulge in illegal activities when comes to Pokémon.”
Oh, that didn’t promise good.
“What… what kind of activities?” Paul couldn’t help but ask.
John looked down at him with furrowed brows. Not an angry look but more… pitying?
“You don’t want to know,” he then looked down back into his book as his Weedle had finished eating and was now cuddled up in his lap.
Paul blinked. Okay, so he supposed he would have to wait and see. He looked over to George, craving conversation, and saw that he had finished his crisps and was petting Walton while looking out the window. The morning sun shined through the window, highlighting the brow colours of George’s hair and making his cheekbones out to look much sharper.
“You seem to be getting along well with Walton,” Paul commented as he looked at the young Snivy curled up in George’s lap. He was glad for it. Paul had always imagined (and hoped) that once he got a Pokémon; it would care for George as much as he did.
George nodded and covered up a yawn with his free hand.
“D’you think he’ll know not to get on our laps once he’s fully evolved?” And before Paul could answer, Walton gave out a huff and looked up at George with a frown, seemingly offended at the question.
“...yeah,” he kept back a giggle, “he’s a smart boy, y’know.” Paul jested and patted the Pokémon on the head. And handed him one of the berries still left on the table. It eagerly grabbed it and turned to nibble on it while staring out the window. George and Paul shared a look, hiding their laughter.
“I’m gonna nap before we get to Blackpool,” George muttered before giving out yet another yawn.
Paul nodded when he suddenly felt a poking on his elbow from the other side and turned to find the Weedle, Prudence, trying to get his attention. He looked down at it; confused as to what she wanted. She nudged him again and he glanced at John, unsure of what to do because when Paul moved to pet her, she leaned away.
“John,” he called out.
“Yeah?”
“Uh, what does she… want?” He asked as she yet again leaned away from him when he tried to pet her.
John glanced down at him and down at the small Pokémon, “she likes to hide in and under jackets. You’re wearing one and I’m not so that’s probably what she wants.”
Paul ooh’d and looked back at Prudence. How was he supposed to go about this though? Deeming it worth trying, he lifted up his jacket by its ends and the Weedle gave out a small yelp and quickly slithered over on his lap and up under the soft material. It’s small feet tickled against his skin as his shirt rode with it up and he couldn’t help but emit a fit of giggling.
Time passed by quickly as John returned to his book and Paul cuddled up with the Weedle sharing its body heat underneath his shirt. It was careful in not accidentally stinging him with its barbed and pointed ends on its head and tail. Paul didn’t notice all the soft glances John cast his way as he whispered sweet nothings to Prudence as he looked down his jacket at her sleeping form.
It was nearing noon as their train settled into the station. The train ride hadn’t felt long but, boy, did Paul’s legs still feel tired from having to sit down for so long.
They hurried off the train. Paul was still carrying Prudence underneath his jacket while George had managed to get Walton to balance on his shoulder. It was impressive, though the Pokémon seemed to have a strong grip on the young boy’s hair; who didn’t seem to be bothered by it.
Stepping out of the station and into the summer sun was jarring for a second. It was warm, very much so, and Paul sighed as he realised he had the need to take his jacket off. He zipped it slightly down, still holding the small Weedle and looked down at it. “I’m gonna have you move you now,” he said as it looked up at him with its big eyes.
“Let me help you,” John stopped out in front of him and zipped down the jacket completely. Paul’s heart suddenly beat much faster and he prayed that it wouldn’t be obvious to the older man. Why was he feeling this way whenever John was close to him?
Prudence stuck to Paul the best she could before she was picked off by John who muttered something inaudible under his breath. He looked at Paul as he held the squirming bug, “she likes you,” he smirked.
Paul blushed, counting his lucky stars as John had turned his back to him again and was incapable of seeing the pink warmth across his cheeks. He wasn’t so lucky with George who looked at him with a snicker.
Blackpool was a seaside resort town and as they walked further away; it was incredibly obvious. Filled were the streets with shops catering to tourists and swimmers alike. Sunhats, sunscreens, sunglasses, Put the word sun in front of it and it was there. On the streets following the humans were a large variety of Pokémon; Paul saw Furfrous to Swoobats to Drampas. And the air was filled with screeching Wingulls as they reached closer to their destination at the south pier.
John suddenly stopped as they reached a corner. There was a clear view of the beach and Paul took in a deep breath and let the smell of salt water and sea air overtake him. John turned and looked at the young boys, though his eyes rested on Paul for a beat longer.
“We need to get our Pokémon back in their balls before we go into the inn,” he sighed, “they’re allowed inside but I wouldn’t trust anyone there as far as I can throw ‘em.”
George nodded and was handed Walton’s ball by Paul as John sorted away the one with Prudence in it. Soon they stood Pokémonless and looked at each other before Paul asked, “anything we should know beforehand?”
John’s eyes narrowed in thought, “just keep close to me and don’t talk to anyone.”
Paul nodded and followed John as he started walking again. It was really only a few steps before they stopped again outside a large building. Escavalier Inn stood in large letters over an old wooden door deep in a stone facade. It didn’t look near as seedy as Paul had expected it would from what he had been told and warned about from John. It looked… reputable, like the old inns typical of London. A wooden sign with a carving of the Escavalier mascot swang along with the slight breezes that came from the sea.
John glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed for some reason, at Paul before stepping inside.
There was a small humming of music as they entered. It came from an old-timey jukebox that was light up in various neon colours as it played.
A banner hanged above the stage and said in a thick font; Rory Storm and The Hurricanes. And underneath it where a group of people, a band, who were positioned on the stage further in the room but they weren’t playing. It looked as if they were setting up their instruments to possibly play later that night, Paul assumed. It was five young looking men. Maybe around John’s age. Four of them wore matching outfits, suits in all black, and one who stood tall was separated by the rest in his all-white outfit paired with a bright gold jacket. At his feet rested a Dragonair. It was large and… stunning. Breathtaking. Paul had never seen such a Pokémon in person before and was especially fascinated by its beautiful vibrant blue colour. It looked towards Paul and his group as they entered the inn.
The Dragonair wasn’t the only Pokémon in the room. A rather intimidating looking man at the drums had an Octillery hanging off his arm as he tried to work on the set as it hanged tightly there. Paul could see the man’s mouth moving, talking and laughing, but he couldn’t hear what was said over the music.
The bartender was glaring at them and called out to John who stomped his way over to him. George poked Paul, who had been pretty distracted by the movements on the stage.
“John! Didn’t I tell you to never show your ugly mug here again?” the large man barked at John as they came closer to the bar. John laughed, much to Paul’s confusion. A Machoke stepped out into the room from an open door next to the barkeep and Paul suddenly felt nervous at the sight of the large Pokémon. Its arms were crossed as it glared down at the group.
“Thought I’d brighten up the place with my presence,” John smirked, aloof to the Machoke’s presence as he continued staring down the bartender. The large man suddenly bellowed out a laugh as he slapped his washcloth down on the bartop. “Of course! This place sure needs it,” and then looked at Paul and George who stood close next to each other, almost hiding behind John. “Who’s ye buddies?”
John stepped aside, not willing to hide the boys. It was silly anyway. Paul wasn’t scared!
“Paul,” he nodded towards him, “and George.” He repeated the previous action. The bartender looked over them, possibly studying them, and nodded. “Nice to meet ye, lads. I’m Alvin. John’s uncle.”
Paul glanced to John, his question was obvious. Who was this man exactly? Of all the talks of the place being seedy, criminal, disgusting… he had family here. Was he in on the scheme? To steal Pokémon, or was he here to help John?
John nodded with a sigh, “he knows why we here.”
“Yes, and you came at a good time. Brauer is along in the basement with the Pokémon. They’ve grown confident… cocky in their success and have relaxed their security. Thinking that no-one knows about them or if they did; would even dare to do anything about it.”
He pointed to the stage, “Ringo there will help you. They took his Mudkip so he’s more than willing to help.” It was the man with the Octillary that he was pointing towards, “he’s here with the band. Luckily, Epoch doesn’t know it’s his Mudkip.”
Paul stepped forward, “Epoch?” It sounded familiar. Had the police officer back when they first got to the Pokécenter yesterday mentioned them?
Alvin glanced to John with a raised brow, who shrugged and said; “it’s the gang Brauer and Hallard are part of. They fancy themselves on the same level of Team Rocket or Flare,” he rolled his eyes. “They really just a bunch of idiots.
Alvin chuckled, “now I wouldn’t underestimate them. They’ve grown since you last bumped into them, John. Change of leaders too.” John narrowed his eyes as he stared down Alvin, “really?” He sounded amused at the thought. He clearly sounded very unimpressed with the group.
“Yes,” his uncle nodded, “they practically worship some lady now. Named Kailli or something.” He glanced to Paul, “not someone to be messed with from what I’ve heard. Supposedly she got one mean Salazzle. Shiny too” John whistled at the thought but shrugged, “She’s not here though?”
“No,” Alvin responded and looked to the stage. Ringo was waving them over. Alvin looked back to the small group and smiled, “it’s time. Good luck.”
John quickly marched over the stage as Ringo hopped down from the lifted platform. He was leaning against the wood with his Octillery finally off his arm and sitting next to him on the stage. He didn’t look any less intimidating as they neared the stage. Sure, he had a soft look in his eyes but it was largely overshadowed by his curling quiff, a grey streak down its side, that was paired with a matching beard and moustache. Paul noticed as he stood in silence listening to John introduce themselves, that the eyebrow on the same side as grey streak was a visibly lighter colour too. Paul realised this; he was definitely staring too hard and long at the man.
But he soon found out he wasn’t the only one as he glanced to George, the younger man was too staring at the new addition to the group. And opposed to Paul; it looked like he was blushing. Paul smiled and bit back a snicker as he zoned back into the conversation.
“Nice to meet ye all,” Ringo said and reached out to shake Paul’s hand. The same was done with George who had know returned from whatever he had been thinking about. Paul nudged him gently in his side and wiggled his brows as soon as the younger boy looked at him. “Sod off,” he muttered but not without a small smile of his own.
In the meanwhile, John and Ringo had gone ahead and the young men quickly hurried to follow along with the pair. They entered a small backroom and down a rickety flight of stairs that made Paul’s inside turn as he looked down the occasionally broken steps. They reached a steel door that stood out from the otherwise prominent brick wall that surrounded him.
“This is it,” Ringo whispered and looked back and forth between them. John nodded and looked at the door over. “The idiot,” he muttered and opened the heavy door. It was unlocked! It was hiding stolen Pokémon and it was… unlocked.
They heard music as soon as they entered. Not something Paul thought was any good. And a small voice hummed along to it. John moved his finger to his mouth and indicated for them to be quiet. Easy.
Ringo placed the Octillery carefully on the floor and whispered, “you know what to do, Zak.” It looked to Ringo with a determined nod and crawled towards the figure of a sitting man further in the room. It was then Paul noticed what was in front of said man. Cages! There were two, not as many as he had admittedly expected. One was filled with the Professor’s stolen Pokémon. The Bulbasaur, the Squirtle, and the Charmander were huddled up in the corners, visibly frightened. The other cage right next to it was sparse. A single Mudkip, Ringo’s, lied around something that appeared to be an… egg? It was a stark white with blue and red triangles pattern all over it. The Mudkip appeared to be protecting it and glared silently at its captor.
Finally; the Octillery had reached the man and had its tentacles moved around the legs of the chair the stranger was sitting on. Suddenly, the Pokémon pulled it out from under him. He yelped and from the floor staring at the Pokémon with large widened eyes.
John darted into the room as Ringo yelled, “Now!”
Paul and George looked at each other in confusion. Clearly, they had missed out on some important information while they had been otherwise distracted earlier. Anyhow, they quickly followed after John.
The Octillery had squirted out a dark black liquid across the eyes of the captor. Ink, Paul realised. Of course. It had blinded the stranger who now laid writhing on the floor with his hands over his eyes. Effective, but (fortunately) the blinded effect wouldn’t be permanent.
Ringo hurried to the cage with the Mudkip inside while George and Paul ran to the other cage. The Pokémon was understandably frightened but quickly seemed to pick up the situation when the cage was unlocked. John was left by the moaning grunt. He had emptied the guy’s pockets and now held four Pokéballs. He didn’t move before he suddenly gave a large kick to the man’s stomach and the groaning ceased. John huffed and moved over the join Paul and George in letting out the Pokémon.
Ringo stepped over to them. He was carrying a large egg with his Octillery now again hanging off his arm. The Mudkip stood by his feet, looking pointedly up at the egg. Paul could see that the Mudkip must have mentally adopted the baby Pokémon and felt a possible paternal bond from their shared capture.
As John, Paul, and George each held a freed Pokémon; they were ready to leave again when a large slam erupted and their heads immediately snapped to the door from which they had entered. “Shit,” John muttered and called the starter Pokémons into their balls. “We’re not alone,” he whispered. But before any more could be said a robust, balding, man entered the room with a Stunky at his side.
“Cease your foolishness!” He yelled out and Paul choked back a snicker. What a thing to say.
“I am Clang and these are not your Pokémon to take!” It was continued in the same dramatic fashion as before. “They so are!” John yelled back and the stranger huffed at him as his Stunky stared furiously at them.
“Ahme!” He yelled and looked over his shoulder. “Get back the egg! Now!”
A rather pretty young woman entered the room. A Musharna floated by her head.
Paul felt an unease overtaking him and the world around him started to act… strange. It was as if he was drunk. Or on a boat. It floated and he felt lightheaded. John muttered a long line of profanities as he covered his mouth with his hand, but it was useless as he soon after passed out. “...What?” Paul blinked and looked to George and Ringo who were now laying on the ground too.
The last thing Paul saw before he went down too was a heavy feeling overtaking him. And the sight of a large overbearing pink mist that slowly swallowed him up as he watched the strangers. Their Pokémon were gone and their mouths covered with dark purple masks. And the Pokéballs rolling out of John’s open palms, towards Ahme and Clang.
#here comes the solrock#pokemon#the beatles#paul mccartney#john lennon#ringo starr#george harrison#starrison#mclennon#beatles fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#au#it's over four thousand words y'all
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New Look Sabres: GM 2 - NJD - Goals for Everyone!
Undefeated. Let’s just say that as many times as possible before we inevitably can’t anymore. If this team plays well these first couple weeks not only could it be good for the long run to get a good start but, there are some very telling challenges coming up. We’ll get to last night’s opponent, a very well upgraded Devils team in spite of what the score says, but tomorrow we take a jaunt down to Columbus to face a Blue Jackets squad that isn’t what it was last year. Next week proper we got the two divisional rivals Buffalo maybe fighting for wildcard spots with later this season: Montreal and Florida. The Sabres hammered the Habs last season but I’m not certain that will happen again. Florida absolutely had our number and the addition of Coach Q and more competent goaltending is a little frightening. Then Dallas visits before the annual October California road trip. There is a lot of off time in early November because of the Global Series in Sweden so if October looks good we’ll have a lot of time to sit on it. If we’re all being honest, we need some time to just feel good about this team. The Devils are an interesting club to consider this season. Some folks have them winning the Met while others have them missing the playoffs by dozens of points. It’s weird in a league that stresses parody so much that such a wide chasm can exist between predictions but here we are. I’m going to err on the higher side after the first couple games they’ve put up. A 2-0 drubbing of Columbus followed by a shootout loss to Winnipeg that looked like a rout the other way for most of the game. Those examples are here to say what we just saw last night was a little explicable. It’s a bit of tale of two games in that this would’ve been a night to remember no matter the outcome.
Fifteen of the Sabres Twenty plus former Captains participated in a pregame ceremony that was touched off by Rick Jeanneret coming out to get a standing ovation. There was emotion before the puck even dropped. The crowd went crazy for the 50th Anniversary jerseys when they appeared on the jumbotron and booed when the Devils came out. It was bordering on a religious experience already and then… *breathes out nostalgically* …then this current Buffalo Sabres teams put together the fourth, fifth and sixth straight periods of complete, full-effort team hockey. Before we get to the four-course meal that was this game, I think it’s important to say the reason we have to get legitimately excited about this club right now is that we’re seeing levels of effort and consistency through two games that were few and far between in past seasons. A lot of people were talking about how bad a Coach Phil Housley must have been to not get this level of play out of mostly the same the roster last season. I see the reasoning there but all that blame you’re sending that way, turn it into credit and send it Ralph Krueger’s way. We joked about how this new coach talked a big, group buy-in rhetoric in the preseason that was supposed to pay dividends beyond the mere culture this culture that we’ve gotten so used to with the Buffalo Bills. But the tight, fast, everyone playing-together jargon we kept hearing is now unfolding right in front of us. If this guy gets Marco Scandella, Vladimir Sobotka and dare I say it… Rasmus Ristolainen to not be statistical black holes then he’s the miracle worker we’ve been waiting for. Only time will tell after all, we’re two games into an 82-game season. Wow though. Just wow, what a game I got to be at.
This game was incredible from almost the very start. Will Butcher got called for holding on Jack Eichel and to that I say: Will, you could’ve been Sabre and gotten to hold Jack legally, but there you are going to the Sin Bin for it! On the ensuing powerplay the puck found it’s way to Eichel beside the net and instead of shooting point blank the current Captain threw it out to Victor Olofsson who winds up for maybe a half second and then shoots it through the woods into the net. That goal was special. I don’t know if Devils goalie Mackenzie Blackwood even saw it. That will become a theme tonight by the way. The Sabres goalie, Carter Hutton, has now had two great games and I want to give him huge props for holding the fort again last night, but he only needed to make 18 saves to win this after facing a total of 20 shots. He’s seen far busier nights. The whole game I’m trying to figure out if the Sabres defense is good now or is the Devils offense just so bad? I mean the Devils have Hall, Hischier, Simmons, Zajac and Hughes so they should be a threat, but Marco Scandella had the best 5 on 5 corsi of every person wearing skates in this game. Like… what is going on? If I wasn’t at the game with people yelling all around me I would have thought I ate something strange and was on some kind of groovy hallucinogenic trip. Well the good kept coming and after another holding call against the Devils Jack Eichel cleaned up a Jeff Skinner rebound on the powerplay. Blackwood couldn’t control it deep in his own crease and there it was 2-0 Sabres at 17:26 of the first. For what a fun start it was, you go to the intermission with the most dangerous lead in hockey thinking this game is still very much a game. By the end of the next period it would become a rout.
Before most of the enthusiastic crowd was back to their seats Kyle Palmieri scored a one timer off a Taylor Hall assist to cut the lead in half. Now I don’t know why but this game featured bone-rattling hits. The kind of thunder dome stuff that gets a crowd going. Jake McCabe was landing them left and right. This is generous for me to say because the shots were lopsided in favor of the home team throughout this game, but this was the only time the Devils could’ve taken control of this game. A goal to tie it early in the second and this would’ve been an entirely different game. Even at the 2-1 score line the crowd was a factor in this game. There were sporadic Bills cheers and totally spontaneous Let’s Go Buffalo chants. This little tyke rarely-sitting next to me was losing his mind and he was something of a barometer of the fans overall. Every time the puck got knocked out of the defensive zone there was deafening cheers. It felt like a playoff game and I’ve only been to Amerks playoff games and those have all turned to shite lately. This game did not. It was electric in there. Want to know how good the Sabres were doing? Kyle Okposo and the retread third line that we decried at the end of Training Camp were hemming the Devils in their zone! What!? Kyle Okposo redirected a shot originating from Rasmus Dahlin at the blueline and we’re up 3-1. Unreal. It only got better. Jeff Skinner, streaming into the zone with Marcus Johansson and *checks notes* Vladimir Sobotka, gets a cross-ice pass and shoots in short side. 4-1 Buffalo.
We all feared the guy we just signed for eight years to big money wouldn’t score until November with that Vladdy anchor on his line; but no, on only his tenth shot of the young season he sinks one and we get to see that beautiful smile again. The second period was a total shooting gallery, but one non-scoring play this period made a girl sitting a few seats down from me screech in a way you normally only hear in comedy clubs. Jack Eichel skates through red-jersey defenders moving the puck all around and dekes the ever-living daylights out of Nico Hischier. The poor kid fell on his ass like they were playing street basketball or something. The crowd went wild for the rest of the shift. In this environment, the Devils gave us another powerplay opportunity! You’ll need to watch the replay on this one. A clinic in Captaining unfolded as Eichel dribbles the puck in the right circle looking for someone and makes the kind of meaningful eye contact with Victor Olofsson on the other side that can only mean one thing: go to the goal. Eichel passes it through not one, not two, not even three but four Devils defenders to Victor who bounces it off of either Reinhart’s skate in front or Blackwood’s pads and recollects his own rebound. Not a second later Olofsson takes another shot and buries it. Correction, Reinhart passed it back to him. It’s as if this goal was going to happen one way or another. That made it… *pauses for dramatic effect* FIVE to ONE Sabres. Gee, I felt greedy.
I could talk for hours about how completely new the Sabres powerplay looks through two games this season, but the score was now 5-1 and I still have more goals to get to. In most games I’d call that box score a rout, but this game gets chippy. Remember I told you Jake McCabe was leveling hits left and right? He landed one in the middle of the game here on Taylor Hall that immediately unleashed pandemonium. I need to use every meaning of that word here because the crowd went wild and rose to their feet while some “extracurricular activities” if you will unfolded on the ice. It took a couple minutes to sort out the penalties, but McCabe knew what he did and went down the tunnel bopping fist bumps like he just won a WWE title. What resulted was three minors and two majors and a 23-year-old building struggling to keep the noise in. The Devils didn’t get the lift they needed from that fight. Not from that fight, not from running McCabe, not from running Hutton. The third period begins, and we get Travis Zajac goal to make 5-2 but… here’s the reason this article is so long again: the Sabres still had more goals to score. Sam Reinhart gets the puck way out by himself in the left circle and shot it bar down. I know Blackwood was trying to catch it with his glove over his head, but it was already in and it just looked like the poor kid was begging for mercy. “Please oh please don’t keep shooting at me!” 6-2! I’m feeling greedy now! The crowd is now doing that chant where they count the goals and ask for another. I am not swearing in disbelief now for no other reason than the child sitting next to me. I just didn’t know what to do with myself. My teams don’t score this many goals. We’ve seen probably a dozen breakaways in these first two games and no goals off of any of them. That changed when Sam Reinhart challenges PK Subban in his own defensive zone and poke checks the puck free. Subban can’t get to Reinhart and falls down briefly. Reino just takes off and goes five-hole on Blackwood. He puts his hands in the air like, yeah, just pay me now. Can we just pay him now? At this rate he’s going to score 5.2 million goals and Terry is going to have to drill a new well just to pay for it. 7-2 Sabres is the final outcome of this home opener.
There is so much to take away from this game that I’ll probably be referencing it for a couple weeks. Our New Look Sabres reply guy tweet of the game is actually a tweet not a reply. It comes from The Charging Buffalo’s Joe Marino who points out “the Sabres haven’t won the first three games of the season since the 08-09 season”, exclaiming Monday is huge. This recap is getting a little long and I’ve got a Bills game to go watch so I will agree wholeheartedly and invite you to look forward to Monday night’s away game in Columbus. I for one cannot wait. This team has got me in hook, line and sinker. Like, share and comment on this blog; at this rate we may have some fun this season and fun is best when it’s shared. I hope we can share in the fun together here. Who knows what these guys can accomplish if this is the level of play we see out of them in even half of the remaining eighty games ahead. Let’s Go Buffalo!
Thanks for Reading.
P.S. Rasmus Ristolainen: actually good! I’m looking at you Winnipeg, that blueline ain’t looking so hot!
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MAKING FACES UNDER WATERFALLS: WHY GOTO’S CHARACTER IS GREAT
I remember getting into New Japan in 2013, right about in the middle of when their big surge in popularity was happening. Obviously, this meant that there were a lot of new Western eyes on the product, and thus came a lot of posts, on Reddit, /wooo/, Twitter, wherever you can think of, that sought to “explain” everything. Tanahashi is the ace, Okada is this guy, Shibata is that guy, Makabe says “fuck” a lot, so on and so forth.
One of the things that I’ll always remember is how vaguely Goto’s character was outlined. Very often, these prophets, tasked with spreading the word of Gedo, would merely say that Goto was meant to be a “Samurai Warrior” type of guy. Maybe they’d bring up his friendship with Shibata, but otherwise you’d just get the impression that he was a pretty good wrestler, end of.
After coming up to four years of watching New Japan, I’ve concluded that his character is much more complex than any of that shite.
Goto is not someone who exists despite wins and losses, like many of the wrestlers in the current WWE climate. In fact, he is nothing without them. Irrevocably shaping him is what happens in the ring. The Goto that won the 2008 G1 Climax and the Goto that lost to Minoru Suzuki at Osaka Jo Hall are two different people. The main difference being that Goto, since his G1 win, has had a shitload of shots at the IWGP title, and has lost all of them. Every time, he will come in with a new attitude, a new attire, a new entrance video, yet all those times, he will lack the killer instinct, the intangible force that puts one over the line from good to great, and he ends up losing.
When Goto loses, when he chokes, it is not just a loss, it is a fall. He falls down, collapses. The best case I can think of here, and the one that brought me around to Goto having such depth, was his last shot against Okada at New Beginning in 2016. After losing to Okada, he’s in a 6-man opposite him. After a big, defiant entrance where he had all that kanji painted on him, he almost slinks into the background here as his team make the walk. He stays in the corner while his teammates stare down the opponents. And then, Okada comes forth, with the cheekiest fucking look you’ve ever seen, points out his foe, and beckons him to come out and play. Goto looks like he absolutely wants to die. He has sustained his reputation as a choke artist, unable to win the big one, and as a result he lost all the self-confidence that he had spent the last month building. It was one of the best acting moments I had ever seen in wrestling.
As well as that, though, Goto tries to get back up. He tries to rebuild. While it may not look it, the year he had from that low point in February was him recovering from it all. His decision to join CHAOS did not come as some swerve like it might have in other companies, it came because he found himself at the end of his rope, with the only one reaching out to him being the man who had so severely destroyed him, Okada. From there, he started to find himself again. He made friends (!) with his stablemates. When YOSHI-HASHI got an upset win over SANADA in a random Korakuen tag, Goto celebrated with him like they’d just won the tag titles. He entered the G1, and he started doing really well. People were chanting his name again!
Beneath the serious, understated surface is a man who is always analysing his own actions. Perhaps it could be chalked up to confirmation bias, but I see this slight bit of self-doubt when Goto is in a big match. He’s overthinking things. He’s saying “don’t screw it up don’t screw it up DON’T SCREW IT UP” because he knows that choking is his thing and he so desperately wants it not to be. Thus, encouragement from his friends and the fans is the thing he, on some level, seeks most in the world. It is validation that, actually, no, he’s not screwing up.
What ended up ultimately pushing him over the line, though, was the criticisms and dismissals from people who didn’t pull punches.
Like in the fateful aftermath of Destruction in Hiroshima, where with his comrade YOSHI down and out after being beat by Kenny Omega, Goto made a stand. Although he had lost to him in the G1, he nevertheless made the challenge for Omega’s Tokyo Dome briefcase.
Omega laughed at him. He told him to “Goto hell.”
This wasn’t just some crappy pun, it was an insult with connotations informed by the prior decade or so of Goto’s career. What’s this guy doing challenging for the big one again? Has he not learned? Is he not already enough of a joke? Fuck off, loser.
Again, all this played an integral role in what was to come. King of Pro-Wrestling came. Goto/Omega II came. Omega still taunted him, even up to the introductions. Everyone thought of it as a formality, even Kenny himself.
Red Shoes goes to take the briefcase. He shows it to Goto. Suddenly, Goto takes a shot at Kenny. Suddenly, Goto takes the briefcase. Suddenly, Goto steps out from the same old song and dance, he’s no longer here to fall victim to his own insecurities, he’s here to win. Kenny gets brained with the case. He gets DDT’d, he gets thrown through a table, he goes dead-eyed after taking a huge Yoshi Tonic. It feels like a fight, a heated fight instead of a contest of wrestling wherein he is objectively inferior. Even the finish, wherein Goto still loses, feels like a development. Kenny hooks him up for the One-Winged Angel, and right up until the moment the back of his neck meets the canvas, Goto is punching, scratching and clawing to try and get out of it. No longer did Goto humbly, submissively present victory to his opponents, they had to pry it out of his furious soul.
It came time, then, for all this to come full circle. Goto reached his breaking point in spring, had a summer of growth, and showed off to all an epic bloom in the fall. Now, in the winter, to test that all this development meant anything, one more person who thought him a joke came along. One more person who knew him as a perpetual loser. One more person who happened to be his former best buddy, Shibata.
When Okada was trying to court Goto into CHAOS, Shibata was seen looking on in the background. Once Goto bit the bullet, though, he was nowhere to be found. Too preoccupied with the NEVER Openweight title. It wasn’t until the World Tag League where they met once more, bringing up a lot of bitterness after that the past months of separation helped ferment.
Shibata went all-in on his old friend, even disparaging the very fact that people still brought up that relationship. He attacked Goto for changing all the little things but not changing his losing ways, for endlessly chasing revivals when it’s unclear when he was ever at a peak, and for ultimately being in an entirely different dimension than Shibata, then seeming to be on the cusp of being a superstar for the company, was. Once, it was no longer time to go quietly in defeat. Now, it was no longer time to go in defeat at all.
Wrestle Kingdom 11 was where it all paid off. I could feel the same thing happening all over again, and then I could sense that something had changed, that Goto was getting better, getting more of an edge in exchanges. Shibata’s attempts at proving his comments right turned into trying to survive, his dominance slipping throughout. Then, finally, Shibata’s heavily-taped neck began giving out, and Goto pounced on it like a predator. He gave him a reverse GTR, meeting Shibata’s throat with his knee. Then he gave him a regular one for good measure. One of the best, most emphatic finishes I’ve ever seen, and Goto had won.
January 4th at the Tokyo Dome, and Hirooki Goto stood victorious. Not in a tag match, not in a meaningless singles match. He was handed the NEVER Openweight championship. It was a big one, and he had won it, silencing his critics, including the biggest one, himself.
This was a highly significant moment for me as a fan. It would not have been that way if Goto consistently choking had not been the focus of his story for the past couple years. It would also not have been that way if Goto had not acted like every single one of those chokes impacted him as a wrestler and as a person. Without evidence of growth, journeys are nothing. Without evidence of journey, destinations are nothing. With Goto, I felt like everything meant something. He finally dug deep inside himself, not just saying that he was or doing it for show, but that he had finally reached rock bottom, and came back up as a wholly new person. I have felt way more invested in Goto than in most other wrestlers on the New Japan roster because the story of “Is good, but impeded by fear of failure, rejection, lack of confidence” will always be more relatable than “Is good”. When I think of the whole concept of fighting spirit, of never giving up, my mind will never jump first to the guy who just brushes past every obstacle without any trouble, the Okada who sits in a heel hook for 30 minutes and doesn’t tap out. My mind always jumps to the Goto’s of the world, the guys who do in fact give up, who are in fact beaten, who fall, but who end up picking themselves up again, to become stronger and to succeed amidst adversity. That, more than anything else, is true inspiration. Banzai. Banzai. Banzai.
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Dallas Week: Why Supporting the Cowboys Probably Makes You a Poser (Part 2)
Note: I wrote this column last year and decided to tweak it, update it, and publish a new version for 2018.
………………………………
We all know one of these guys:
“Born and raised in Marlton! But I’m a lifelong Cowboys fan because my dad knew Nate Newton’s cousin.”
“Love the star on the helmet! I used to watch Roger Staubach on television back in 1974.”
“Well I grew up in Iowa, but we didn’t have a team, so I picked the Cowboys.”
These are all valid reasons to be a Dallas fan, according to Dallas fans. None of them involve being from Texas or ever having visited. “America’s Team” welcomes all front-runners and fakes.
This topic comes up every season. Eagles vs. Cowboys. It’s Dallas week on sports talk radio and disgusting locals crawl out their garbage pits to explain how they grew up in Northeast Philadelphia but support a 3-5 football team that hasn’t won diddly poo since the 1990s and is now being run into the ground by an owner who clings to the past and holds nobody accountable. The Cowboys “ain’t been nothing” for years, as Stephen A Smith recently said, yet you still have all of these bandwagon jabronies clinging to Dallas as if Troy Aikman is still out there slinging the ball around.
Philly is old-school and parochial. You grow up here, you support Philly teams. Eagles games are a family affair. You build memories through tangible experiences, like actually physically being inside of Veterans Stadium or meeting your favorite player after the game. You understand the city’s blue collar, non-cosmopolitan roots and why sport is a common thread. The third-shift factory worker who I saw puking outside of Les and Doreen’s in Fishtown last week might not have much in common with Rand Spear, the accident lawyer, but both were probably standing somewhere on Broad Street nine months ago, watching the Birds’ celebrate their first Super Bowl win.
The reasons really aren’t important. It just is how it is. You probably know someone who has vacationed in Sea Isle City for 35 years. It’s not necessarily that they dislike Stone Harbor, they just go to Sea Isle because that’s where they’ve always gone. They’re comfortable and familiar with it, and they don’t see a need to change anything. This intrinsically Philadelphian behavior can be both good and bad, because we’re loyal and committed while not exactly diving head-first into new experiences or getting out to see the rest of the world.
I’d honestly say it’s less about how “legitimate” our fandom is. It’s more about how fraudulent others are.
If you grew up here, you don’t have an emotional or geographical link to the Cowboys, the Yankees, or Notre Dame. You just don’t. And don’t tell me that you supported the Irish because you’re an Irish Catholic; you supported them because they won football games and they were always on national television. Are Pennsylvania Methodists beaming with SMU pride? Didn’t think so.
Can you develop a connection to a foreign team over time? I don’t know. I guess. If your favorite college player of all time is drafted by the Raiders, maybe you add Oakland as a second team. I went to high school with Jimmy Develin, who won a couple of Super Bowls with the Patriots, so I was at least pulling for him to be successful even if I didn’t want the hoodie to lay his grimy hands on another Lombardi Trophy.
Likewise, you can watch the Los Angeles Lakers on NBA League Pass and share video clips on Reddit and photoshop a Twitter avatar that looks something like this:
“I’m a lifelong fan of all four teams! I’m not a front-runner! I swear!”
You can follow the Lakers in a way that older generations weren’t able to. But you’re not really a fan. You’re not from Southern California and you probably didn’t tune in when the ’04-’05 squad was ripping off 34 wins with Brian Grant and Chucky Atkins. You got back on board when Pau Gasol showed up, like the Cowboy fan who, of course, felt drawn to the team that just so happened to win a bunch of Super Bowls.
The pretenses of your fandom are fake, and Philadelphia knows it. That’s what’s important here. It’s not your fandom itself, it’s the genesis of it.
One of the things that’s even more telling is that Texas natives come across as solid sports fans. I was down in Austin last week for the UT/West Virginia game, and Longhorn fans had to be some of the nicest people I’ve ever been around.
Seriously.
Walking in and out of the stadium, it was a lot of, “hope y’all enjoy the game.” No hostility, no bullshit, nothing. Most of the UT folks we talked to also doubled as Cowboy fans, a good chunk from the Dallas-Fort Worth area, and they were really knowledgeable about their pro team. A lot of them expressed disappointment with the way Jerry Jones and Jason Garrett are driving their squad into irrelevance after winning that batch of championships back in the day.
If anything, the Texas trip I guess confirmed what I already knew – that the problem with the Dallas fan base isn’t people from Dallas, it’s the morons from New York, Philadelphia, Des Moines, and everywhere else. It’s the people who don’t have any connection to Dallas who are in denial about the status of “their team.” It’s not the Texas people, because they were polite and friendly and knew their football.
There’s a third angle here, and it’s something that I argue with soccer people all the time, but it also applies to the “four for four” sports. It’s the fallacy that you have to pick a team in the first place.
For example, the English Premier League. What team do I support? There were a bunch of articles that were written 10 years ago to help new fans decide what club to get behind. You could go with Tottenham, or Chelsea, or even Arsenal if you hated yourself.
But just like the Cowboy fan who has never been to Texas, how many Premier League fans have ever been to Manchester? Not many. I like watching the foreign game as a neutral and enjoying it that way. I don’t relate to the guy who walks around Center City with a Manchester City shirt, unless dude is actually from England and watched that club when they were utter shite, long before Sheikh Mansour showed up and started throwing millions of dollars at the best players in the world.
And if we’re on the topic of geo-shaming here, how do I explain the fandom of a guy who grew up in Chadron, Nebraska? Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe he can pick a team. But isn’t it ironic how those types of people always end up settling on the very best? Nobody ever says, “hmm.. I think I’m gonna get behind the Carolina Hurricanes.” Nah, they all become “lifelong” Yankee fans at age 19.
The line of rebuttal usually goes something like this –
“Who does this guy think he is? Who the fuck is Kinkead to tell me who I can and can’t support?”
Well, I’m not really dictating here. You can support whomever you want to support, but the vast majority of Philadelphians and gonna roll their eyes and brand you as a fraud, because the pretenses of your fandom are flimsy.
Here’s a typical example of how things work in this area:
Say you grew up in… I dunno, Secane Pennsylvania, near that pizza place. You probably watched the Eagles, Phillies, Flyers, and Sixers with your family. At age 18, maybe you leave for college down in Richmond, so now you support Spider football and basketball.
That’s pretty much what you are. That’s your fandom. You’re a Philly-area native with no connection to the Chicago Cubs, Duke, Alabama football, or Fulham.
Actually, that last one is interesting. Fulham… you know, they had a bunch of Americans playing over there. That was always intriguing, and I kept an eye on Fulham, but I didn’t feel the need to become a Fulham “supporter.”
Similarly, Philadelphia loves Mike Trout but are we Angel fans? Nah. I never understood why people felt like they had to “support” a team to enjoy watching sports. Trust me, the less emotion you put into football, the easier it is to get over losing 13-9 to Shady McCoy and Dave fucking Wannstedt.
So let’s be real; if you’re a Cowboys fan who grew up in Philadelphia, you’re a poseur. You aren’t from Texas. You probably have never been to Texas. You didn’t pay any dues or stick with your team while they were dog shit, you just hopped on the bandwagon because they won three Super Bowls more than 20 years ago.
The ultimate irony is that it’s now becoming harder and harder to call these people “front-runners,” since Dallas has been utterly mediocre for the better part of two whole decades. But even if younger folks might not be jumping on the Cowboy bandwagon, I still have utter contempt for all of you cockroaches that slithered your way into that “fan base” back in the day.
The post Dallas Week: Why Supporting the Cowboys Probably Makes You a Poser (Part 2) appeared first on Crossing Broad.
Dallas Week: Why Supporting the Cowboys Probably Makes You a Poser (Part 2) published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/
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Transfer Windows and /r/LiverpoolFC: A Survival Guide via /r/LiverpoolFC
Transfer Windows and /r/LiverpoolFC: A Survival Guide
In February 2001, the European Commission reached a compromise agreement with European football leagues that prevented clubs from cherry-picking the best players from other clubs mid-season. Prior to the 2002/03 season, clubs could sign players all the way up to March (e.g. United signed Cantona in November of 1992). From 2002, clubs were limited to two fixed periods per year (a month in the winter, and two in the summer) rather than a near-year-round free-for-all. As a result, the transfer window has become a biannual tradition involving mass displays of anticipation, delirium and, in the case of Liverpool, various kinds of references to male genitalia.
The start of news and fan discussion about an player movements during transfer windows depends inversely on the team's performance leading up to the window. In other words, the poorer results have been, the more eager fans are to blame the players (e.g. quality, form, injuries, fit), and the keener the daily rags are to kindle transfer talk and provide them with wish fulfillment ammunition ("HAMSTRUNG HAMMERS CHASE CREAM OF CATALAN INIESTA").
This behaviour is largely driven by the prevailing wisdom of the modern "we are in the business of results" world of football that if the problem is results then the business must be "even more players." While, like everything in football, this is only 50% true, you will find many fans convinced that their team is one or two purchases away from promotion/establishing themselves/the top 4/winning the league/conquering Europe. Smelling the sweet scent of click-bait, journalists and particularly, strangers on the internet with access to social media and concerns about their self-worth, will attempt to guess what football clubs probably want to do with your money and your feelings. This is, in fact, also 50%, but I won't tell you which 50%.
By the close of the window, unsurprisingly, clubs will sign a few players and sell a few to balance the books. Once in a Blue Moon, a club will have a massive clear-out with a spending spree to follow, and just as often, that club will have a barren window with as many signings as a Stephen Hawking book tour (I love you Stephen, please don't give me a Newtonian demonstration; of a bullet, its mass and its acceleration). Clubs normally set expectations via journalists by announcing the size of the gaffer's war chest, as if he's some sort of sea-faring empire.
This summer, we've heard numbers ranging from £100m to £200m if factoring in potential outgoings. On the one hand, it provides fans with confidence that the club is trying to improve, but on the other, it provides ammunition for critics of club management should the transfer window not pan out as planned. Arsene Wenger, for example, is a master at not spending money that is apparently been available for almost a decade (2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010). This tradition of feigned excess has continued so long that Arsenal fans, widely cherished for their loveable #banter and self-deprecation, can often be heard amongst the lush birdsong in the serene park atmosphere of Ashburton Grove, calling out, "Spend some fuuuucking money!"
Then there are the ITKs (in-the-knows), an elite set of Twitter accounts that leak transfer and other club information from their internal source, a techncial term for whichever orifice of theirs contains the most bile or shite on a particular day. The term itself originates from football hooliganism, as those who were well-informed about and involved in football firm (hooligan/gang) activities and whatnot were considered to be "in the know." With a similar blatant disregard for human life, the modern ITK wages a brutal turf war with common sense, themselves and occasionally, the English language.
A cynic would say that we should shut everything off and out until September 1st (when the transfer window closes) and just see who the club has signed and sold to avoid having to deal with all the rumourmongers and transfer tattle. But that cynic is a joyless wankstain who:
doesn't read any of the article when it's posted on the sub but has to make a comment about something clearly covered in the second paragraph;
downvotes when they disagree with a comment despite that comment CLEARLY CONTRIBUTING TO THE DISCUSSION;
still thinks that FSG is the absolute worst because they are Yanks and don't care about the culture of a club that they themselves haven't cared about ever, and;
doesn't see the incongruity in wishing for a rich foreigner to buy the club while at the same time not wanting tourists anywhere near Anfield.
The true fan, on the other hand, has already worn down their F5 key, knows the transfer reliability chart by heart, and can tell you in great detail who Amadou, Di Marzipan, Rangnick and Ramy are. Their emotions are tied very closely to the daily news cycle, starting when they wake up and coming to a close as tomorrow's back pages are sent out at 10.30pm each night. Every quote tweeted out by AnfieldHQ (whose logo still looks like a stylised car to me) launches them into delirium or despair, whether it's about pain thresholds, supermarkets or the rides in Blackpool. Theses fans were made for the transfer window and the transfer window is undoubtedly made for them. Long may you suffer, so long as you suffer together.
True fans also have an inexplicable need to relate everything to penises, though this is not always restricted to transfer window shenanigans. "COCKS OUT LADS" and "NO LEAN, NO PEEN" are common refrains. Occasionally these lines get the seasonal treatment when a name-based pun fits: "KLOPPS OUT LADS" or "DIJKS OUT LADS" are more recent examples.
Some go further with TV quotes - "STOP, I CAN ONLY GET SO ERECT" - or talk of edging and violent orgasms. Maybe this is what happens when you have /u/_cumblast_ around. Or maybe it's just #penisbantz amiright, lads? You know, just lads being lads who maybe have some insecurities about penis size, relationships and their sex lives in what is often a senseless, fast-moving world (ha ha!) in which we have struggled to learn how to thrive because we might not have had valuable teenage experiences (omg right?!) to show us how to cope with our fears, anxiety and failures (lol). #CocksOutForFreudianDysphoria, amirite lads?
Speaking of the state of unease or a generalised dissatisfaction with life, let's talk about Blackpool, and more specifically, tapping up. The critical component of tapping dat footballing asset - talking to another team's player about financial terms and whatnot before their club has given the buying club permission to do so - is a grey area. There are obviously rules to prevent this, to prevent clubs from negotiating transfer fees down when they know that a player's head has already been turned. This is why they avoid asking for permission, because it usually requires a fee to be agreed up front. The secret to being happy that nobody tells you about is to just not get caught.
Of course, most clubs do a decent job of keeping conversations with agents and players under wraps and away from prying eyes so that the player's club doesn't have any evidence of their player being tapped up (even if they suspect it). Liverpool are utter, utter wank at this (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7). The single-minded determination of this club not to learn from past mistakes is truly admirable.
After convincing van Dijk to ignore advances from Chelsea and City, the press then lauded Liverpool in public over this victory while the club dawdled and didn't make a bid. This is akin to having a wank right before sex with your dream wo/man or to keeping all of your clothes on the entire time you're in bed after - as though /r/me_irl, /r/TIFU and /r/CringeAnarchy were a football club.
By the time late-August rolls around, you will be glad for the football recommencing and some fresh air once you've clambered through the transfer window. We'll be able to go back to watching games, celebrating goals, moaning about decisions/injuries/rivals, harassing /u/HUGE_HOG about WILs, and generally bantering about our penises like proper lads do. Until then, hang in there, there's no getting of Klopp's wild ride.
And just for good measure, here's a quick 8 point survival guide to the transfer window and how to be a better person on /r/liverpoolfc:
Don't get caught
If the answer to the question or suggestion in your post is "no" then don't post it. If the answer is "yes" then post it, unless the answer is just "yes" in which case, don't post it
Be smart
When you are feeling depressed about our transfer activity, remember that you could have paid £45m for Anthony Martial or £30m for Moussa Sissoko and feel better
If you want to know what our line-up is going to look like next season with players we haven't signed yet, then just do it in your head
At the very least, take the weekend off from Liverpool news and transfer rumours; nothing happens on the weekend other than idle speculation. Use the time to craft an amazing hypothetical starting line-up in your head
New players probably don't need songs. In fact, we have plenty of players struggling for one already. I like the Gini Wijnaldum one though - that's a good'un. Do more like that
Here are the transfer window puns I'm aware of, for quick reference. I will add to this if you point me towards any I've missed:
Naby = not be
Keita = key to
Amadou = I'ma do
Dijk = dick
Submitted July 06, 2017 at 06:28PM by djimonia
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