BAMF – A Modern Fairytale
explanation:
inc = incoming
pwnd = owned = you're fucked
And when I say Counter-Strike, I actually mean CSO- Counter-Strike Online, which means it's an online multiplayer shooter.
Once upon a time, in a small town by the name of Lima in Midwest Ohio, there lived a boy named Kurt Hummel. All over the Great Halls of McKinley and beyond, he was known for his extraordinary beauty and exceptional sense of dress, which earned him a great dislike by other envious young men his age. His bravery and sharp wit were frequently the center of talk and gossip among his admirers as well as his enemies.
But none of these qualities are the subject of the story that I will tell you today.
You see, aside from picking the right colours to match the season and the right cremes for his skin type, there was another skill Kurt Hummel possessed, unknown of by most of his friends and certainly unexpected for a person with his attitude. He had mastered the art of wielding a weapon, of sneaking up on his enemies as silently as a panther stalking his prey, of killing without mercy in a brutal and vicious fight for survival and fame.
In other words, Kurt Hummel kicked ass at Counter-Strike.
It was an ability acquired by chance. Countless hours of keeping his step-brother company as they slaughtered one innocent soul after the other had the boy discover his unexpected talent for handling controllers and reacting quickly, and once he'd found out that he was good, it was only natural to keep going until he was better.
And now, he was the best.
"Dude," his step-brother and live-in stripper always said, "you're a total BAMF, man."
Kurt protested the "dude" vehemently, but humbly accepted the "BAMF". In fact, his skill and precision became so infamous that eventually, this was the only name he was known by. (Although he, himself, preferred to be called Kurt 'One-Strike' Hummel.)
"omfg," the group chats cried when their members began to die left and right without warning, "the bamf inc!1!11!"
"lol pwnd," some unfortunate souls would mock their fellow players' plight, not knowing that they would be the next to die.
Whiny 13-year-olds would smash their controllers, angsty teenagers would cry in anguish, grown men would tremble in fear when Kurt Hummel set out to hunt. This world was his Kingdom, and he was its Prince.
And as a Prince, it was only just to set a standard for those trying to gain his favour and become his beloved... Other Prince. "Only a man who can beat me in my realm," Kurt 'The BAMF' Hummel proclaimed one day, "shall be allowed to court me." It wasn't like there were suitors lining up on his doorstep – we are talking about Ohio, after all – and he had been alone in his chambers at the time anyway. But it was the thought that counted.
At the same time, in a slightly larger town a day on horseback away called Westerville, there lived another boy by the name of Sebastian Smythe. He, so rumours say, was known for being very liberate in his affections – mainly for men (there had been that one time but those who dared to talk of it soon died under mysterious circumstances) and solely physical.
That was, until he met Kurt Hummel.
However, you see, their fateful meeting was destined to end up in hatred. For at the time they first laid eyes upon each other in a cozy coffee shop, Sebastian 'The Maneater' Smythe had been very obviously vying for the attention of one Blaine ' The Warbler' Anderson, also known as Mr. Sex-On-A-Stick and The BAMF's best friend.
What few people know and even fewer dare talk about, was that Kurt Hummel had harboured secret feelings towards his best friend. But he knew a relationship between them was doomed to fail and therefore never made his advances.
You see, Blaine Anderson sucked balls at Counter Strike.
That is certainly why, as soon as Sebastian Smythe's intent became clear, Kurt could do nothing more than stand helplessly on the sidelines and fear for his best friend's tender heart.
Kurt 'The BAMF' Hummel never stood on the sidelines.
From the beginning onwards, there had been an undeniable tension between Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe. But while Kurt foolishly thought that the heavy stares and sharp insults stemmed from mutual hatred, Sebastian was well aware that underneath it all, there was a hidden attraction pulling them towards each other. Their explosive tempers when in the presence of the other were certain proof of it. No explosion could take place without a big, big spark to start the fire.
In fact, as weeks passed and their confrontations at the Lima Bean became an almost daily occurence, Sebastian came to realise that the attraction was slowly but surely turning into affection, a feeling he had never before experienced when it came to someone not related to him in blood. It made his heart beat faster every time Kurt unwillingly laughed at one of his barbs, and his whole body (but especially its lower parts) feel hot when Kurt licked his lips and moaned around his cup of coffee.
That was when Sebastian Smythe knew that he needed to make the Prince of Lima his.
He wasn't above bribery when it came to getting to know everything there was to know about Kurt Hummel. And so he discovered his hidden talent and the courtship requirement while bringing Blaine Anderson the 20-piece bowtie set Sebastian had so graciously decided to gift him with.
Needless to say, he had been devastated.
Sebastian Smythe wasn't exactly bad at Counter Strike. He just wasn't very good either. But damn if he was going to give up his chance over such a minor obstacle. No, Sebastian Smythe the Smitten (as his friends had taken to calling him after they discovered the reason he kept declining offers to go out clubbing) loved a challenge.
And a challenge it was.
For a whole month, the realm of killing and senseless violence became Sebastian's world. For a whole month, he went to sleep with a controller in his hand and woke up to gaming strategies on his nightstand. His eyes became as red as the blood of his fallen enemies, his hair as wild as his expression every time he broke a new record. There was stubble on his face and the muscles of his hands hurt from overexertion.
But he knew it would all be worth it in the end.
What he didn't know was that, during the month of his self-imposed isolation, Kurt found himself wondering where his sparring partner had vanished to. The heart, they say, grows fonder in absence, and true to the wise words, Kurt unexpectedly found himself missing the other boy's company, and maybe (although he'd rather delete his account than admit it out loud) even becoming worried about his sudden absence.
He would not have be worried for long, however, for exactly a month after setting himself on a mission to win Kurt Hummel's heart, Sebastian Smythe was ready and, without as much as a warning to the subject of his affections, he traveled over to his humble residence. (He did shower and shave first though, because someone like Kurt Hummel would certainly not want to be courted by a caveman.)
As he rang the bell, demanding entrance and proclaiming his intentions, Sebastian hoped he was good enough to be the best. He needed to be.
Kurt Hummel was surprised at first, naturally. But his relief over finding the boy he had grown to miss over the last month alive and well, and the fluttering feeling in his chest when Sebastian declared the will to win his heart, outweighed his suspicions.
Besides, Kurt had always loved a good challenge.
And so the battle began.
It was an event that would be spoken about reverently among Lima's and Westerville's male population for months to come, an epic battle of skill and endurance the likes of which had never been seen in this part of the country. Neither boy willing to give, both wanting to prove their superiority – Kurt to defend his title as the best, and Sebastian to get his hands into The BAMF's skintight jeans – had the fight last for hours on end, way after the sun's last rays vanished into the horizon and their spectators went to bed yawning. Countless times one of them had been about to lose, but managed to get back into the game at the last moment, countless times the booty had been so near Sebastian was almost able to grasp it (literally).
In the end, Kurt won.
It hadn't been enough. A month of training, no matter how intense, couldn't make up for the experience and instinct a seasoned veteran of the art of killing like Kurt possessed.
Sebastian, ready to admit his defeat and to depart, was therefore rightfully surprised when Kurt grabbed him by the arm to stop him from going and sealed their lips together in a searing kiss. His astonishment, but also his happiness, had become even bigger when, after they parted a considerable amount of time later, Kurt told him that he would go out with him anyway.
Because in the end, Kurt realised that it didn't matter how many people Sebastian Smythe could kill. What mattered was that the blinding smile he gave every time a victim fell brutally slaughtered to his feet made Kurt's stomach swoop and his chest clench warm and tight with feeling.
Love, Kurt realised, was really simple, after all.
And they fucked each other happily ever after.