#Enough pitting them against each other make them friends and/or even rivals that's funny

[arkadi-jones]

Gonna be real with you guys I'm getting sick of the Malenia Vs Radahn debate again (oh my god what a shocker Internet debates are driving people insane)

The whole point of the battle was that it was a pointless tragedy cause both parties were equal opposites. Malenia is a Dex and Faith build, Radahn is a Str and Int build; Malenia rejects the Golden Order, Radahn embraces it (moreso Godfrey tbh); Malenia's got no poise, Radahn is the poise (I'm joking w/ this one).

Even despite their differences, both had similarities, like how their armies are extremely devoted to their leader and how both are insane on the battlefield. Just like other characters, they fit perfectly into Elden Ring's theme of perfect opposites (take Marika and Radagon for instance)

No attribute they bear outweighs any others, so the battle is literally the definition of 'Unstoppable force Vs Immovable object'. Inevitably, it ended in disaster for both sides: Malenia is losing her memories and self and is only being driven by her blind faith in Miquella, whilst Radahn and the entirety of Caelid are rotting away, waiting for someone to put him out of his misery. No one benefitted from this fight or got the better outcome, which makes it the perfect tragedy that could've been so easily avoided had their Great Runes not corrupted them.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Hello ! 🤗

First of all thank you so much for your Shinobu's stories, it's always the best time of my day when I see you have new updates about her, I honestly think you write the best and most accurate Shinobu from all the fics I've read.

I was wondering if I could ask you a modern rivals academic to lovers Shinobu x f!reader (whatever pronouns you want) ? They are in competition for almost everything, becoming the presidents of student councils, being the best in sport, in class, model student... until they realize that they keep challenging each other to gain the attention of the other because they have a long time crush.

Have a nice day. ☺️

Valedictorian Speech

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader Modern AU

A/N: Please forgive the pace jumping, this is like a year’s worth of events condensed downs to something more manageable for me. Also takes place in a American school system to make my life easier too. I was feeling inspired by Kaguya-sama Love is War as I wrote this so it was a lot of fun : ) Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 4,070

(Y/n) couldn’t quite articulate what it was about Shinobu Kochou that made her so angry as a five year old. She had been praised all year by teachers and peers alike for how advanced she was. The most talented and beloved of all the students… until she arrived. Cute as a button and smart as a whip, Shinobu Kochou moved in all the way from Japan and turned (Y/n)’s world upside down.

Suddenly everyone was fawning over her instead. So impressed by her advanced math and science prowess and how she was to be able to switch between Japanese and English without a second thought.

She was athletic too, the fastest kindergartener in the grade, even leaving (Y/n) in the dust by several seconds. It was humiliating!

So (Y/n) decided she had to work harder to prove that she was just as good as Shinobu, if not better. When she got home, she demanded to learn multiplication and division, no amount of languages were enough to conquer. She ran laps around the block several times while she waited for the bus in the morning. She was going to show Shinobu she was just as good as her, she had to be!

***

Shinobu had been so nervous to move so far away from home. She wanted to cry, to pretend she was sick, anything to not go to her new school. She’d be joining in so late, everyone would have their friends already and no one would want to talk to her. They’d all just stare at her from afar, whispering about her.

However, when she casually answered the super special math problem on the board with the teacher’s promises of a class reward tied to it, she had been showered with praise and affection. At lunch, her classmates marveled over the lunch her father had made for her and offered to play all manner of games during recess.

It was perfect. Better than anything she had dared hoped for, except for one thing. One of her classmates, the one she had been assigned to sit right next to in fact, never gave her the same praise and attention that the others did.

That shouldn’t have mattered to her. Her mother had told her she couldn’t win over everyone every time, but she wanted to be recognized by her too. (Y/n) was smart and cute and funny when she was playing with her friends. Shinobu wanted her attention too.

So she did what had been working out for her thus far and kept achieving, hoping to impress (Y/n) as she had the others.

But that only seemed to make (Y/n) shun her more. Still Shinobu was stubborn. She would get that recognition! They would be equals, friends!

Too bad (Y/n) was just as stubborn, if not more so. Their competitive nature towards each other was noticed by those around them. Soon their attempts to vie for the others attention and validation, became a true rivalry as students began pitting them against each other.

“Shinobu did the best on the math test! I knew she would!”

“Yeah, well (Y/n) got the highest score on the spelling test!”

Eventually Shinobu and (Y/n) had forgotten what all of their efforts to outdo the other were even for. They filled up on the misinterpretations of their peers and grew to detest the each other over the years and that was how they got to where they were now.

“Morning, Shinobu. How did you do at the cross country meet yesterday?” (Y/n) asked as she opened her locker, or course next to Shinobu as it was every year since middle school.

“Good morning, (Y/n). It went well. Two personal bests.” Shinobu answered casually, flicking a swatch of hair behind her ear.

(Y/n) hummed in acknowledgment, waiting for Shinobu to ask her how her swim meet went. Then she could casually drop that she had achieved three personal bests. One more than Shinobu! (Y/n) had only asked her how she had done because she already knew! She had looked up the results late last night, comparing them with Shinobu’s previous records. It had been awhile since she had the upper hand like this!

(Y/n) contained her evil laughter, meanwhile Shinobu had finished retrieving what she needed for her first and second hour classes and closed her locker.

“See you later then.” She said, her signature smile warping into something more sinister the second she turned her back on (Y/n). She had her now.

Of course Shinobu knew all about the swim meet results, she had listened to them live on the radio during the bus ride back to school. So (Y/n) got three personal bests, brava… Shinobu knew a trap when she saw one. (Y/n) was hoping she’d ask how her event went as well so she could gloat, but Shinobu wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. If (Y/n) brought it up without being prompted, she would look like a desperate and insecure little girl.

“Yes, see you in calculus.” (Y/n) answered as cheerfully as she could, meanwhile her hand was griping her locker door so tightly she could have warped the metal.

She knew damn well Shinobu was avoiding the topic on purpose. She was trying to make her look like a toddler seeking out praise!

An image of Shinobu cooing at her, patting her on the head and congratulating her and telling her how cute she was filled her mind and she wanted to scream.

No matter. There were plenty of other situations where Shinobu could slip up today. Cold calling teachers, pop quizzes, tests, extra curriculars, Shinobu could spill tea on her blouse during lunch for all (Y/n) knew!

“Ah yes, I believe we have a test in calculus today. No calculators or notes either if I recall correctly.” Shinobu hummed. “Did you study?”

“Not a bit!” (Y/n) laughed, making a show of looking sheepish. “I’ve been so busy with that model for anatomy that it must have skipped my mind.”

“Oh I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” Shinobu smiled, cupping a hand over her mouth, “Between you and me, I haven’t had much time to study either.”

A lie on both ends!

(Y/n) and Shinobu had both been studying like crazy to memorize all of the formulas. They were only playing it off like they hadn’t studied to lull the other into thinking they didn’t need to try as hard, making it a double whammy when they did better than the other.

“You’ll do great! You always do.”

“Oh, and were you able to get that paperwork for the council done? My ever so diligent VP?”

Damn her!

Shinobu had been hanging that over her head all Junior year!

When they were freshman, they had both ran for student council president. Neither of them had won, but for freshman they did rather well in the polls.

Sophomore year (Y/n) had managed an upset and beat out the senior candidate. Shinobu had gotten the second most amount of votes, earning her the Vice President position. (Y/n) could not have been happier, she had bested Shinobu!

Until elections rolled in again Junior year and Shinobu had sniped three more measly votes than her and took the role of President right out from under her, leaving (Y/n) as the Vice President.

However now in their Senior year, the preparations for their final election were almost underway. One point each, this was the tie breaker and much more important than any battle they had thus far because there would not be another chance. Besides who would claim the title of valedictorian, this would be either the highlight or shame of their highschool careers.

“All ready, Pres.” (Y/n) gave a mock salute, “Think you’ll defend your title?”

“I wonder.” Shinobu smiled, then she went on her way.

(Y/n) dug into her locker for her books with a scowl. That position would be hers once more, come hell or high water!

***

And… done!

Both girls stood from their seats simultaneously, subtly glaring at each other from across the room. They both maneuvered to the front of the room, handing their tests in to the teacher at the same time.

The teacher chuckled quietly, familiar with the antics of his two brightest pupils and got to work grading their papers right away as the girls stood by anxiously.

“Good work girls, perfect scores as always. Got the extra credit too.”

“That’s great.” (Y/n) quietly cheered.

“Yes, thank you.” Shinobu smiled.

God damn it!

They went back to their respective seats, silently stewing. That bad mood carried on to their after school activities with the student council.

But it did not affect the seamless way they worked together while sorting the paperwork. They didn’t even need to speak to coordinate, they just knew how the other liked things done and did it. It was for efficiency’s sake! Not because they were absolutely obsessed with each other and thought about each other every waking moment of the day.

“I can’t believe re-elections are just around the corner!” Mitsuri wailed as she came into the room.

“Don’t worry, Mitsuri. I’m sure the secretary position will be yours again. You always do a good job.” Shinobu assured, handing another signed paper to (Y/n) for her signature as well.

“Mhm, it would be stupid for no one to vote for you.” (Y/n) agreed.

“You guys are too nice! I’m so glad we got to know each other over the years. I’m going to miss you guys when we graduate!” Mitsuri sniffled, “Where are you guys going to college again?”

Ah yes, thank you Mitsuri! This day was saved. They already knew they had applied to the same college. When they were in middle school, they had to do a, ‘where do I see myself after high school project’, and share it with the class. They knew exactly where the other would be going so they would apply there too. Who would remember something from so long ago? They would play it off as a coincidence.

After all, why end a years long rivalry in high school? College was the big leagues, if they could beat the other there, that would leave everything else moot.

Shinobu and (Y/n) laughed internally, gearing up for the big reveal, they opened their mouths,

“Tokyo University.”

“Havard University.”

Both turned to each other with thinly veiled surprise.

Nice going idiots! Maybe you should have considered that since you two are always playing mind games with each other that the other would have had the same idea! Now (Y/n) was set to leave the country while Shinobu would be left behind! Could you think of anything more tragic?!

“Wow, that’s so crazy!” Mitsuri marveled, “For some reason I thought you two would go to the same college since you seem so close. Hard to separate the dream team!”

You took the words right out of their mouths, Mitsuri.

“Well, you know,” (Y/n) cleared her throat, “time to move on to greener pastures.”

“Yes, I’m in need of a new challenge. It’ll be good for us to spread out.” Shinobu answered tightly.

On the inside they were screaming at each other. ‘Greener pastures’, ‘new challenge’? Were they really still not good enough?

Maybe if they took even a second to re-evaluate their feelings for each other, to be genuine with each other, they would realize that this wasn’t a simple model student rivalry, they were constantly vying for each other’s attention because they were in looooooove.

“Oh! Are the election guidelines done? I’ll take those to the office right away.” Mitsuri snatched the papers from (Y/n)’s hands and went skipping out of the room, leaving Shinobu and (Y/n) alone with the can of worms she had unknowingly opened.

“So, Tokyo.” Shinobu prompted, unnecessarily straightening a stack of papers.

So, Harvard.” (Y/n) countered, not giving an inch.

“Scholarship?”

“Full ride, obviously. You?”

“No question.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I better get to practice then now that this is taken care of.” (Y/n) said, standing from her seat.

“Me too.”

Oh come on you guys, talk! You are both so obviously depressed about this! Stop being so prideful!

***

This was it. The principal was counting the votes. It had been a grueling campaign trail, but it was sure to pay off for one of the dearly beloved girls.

“Good race,” Shinobu murmured, tone overly sweet, from where she sat next to (Y/n) in the auditorium. “I could tell you put a lot of work into your campaign this year.”

A dig at (Y/n)’s humiliating loss last year.

“Nervous perhaps? I could tell that you’ve been working very hard as well.” (Y/n) replied.

“The results have been tallied!” The principal announced, a bit of feedback coming off of the microphone making many of the students groan.

(Y/n) and Shinobu sat straighter, going over their acceptance speeches in their minds, imagining the customary handshake between the President and Vice Persident to show no hard feelings…

God, just ask to hold hands. They would look a million times less desperate than they did pinning over a handshake of all things.

“This year’s student council president is…”

Come on, come on, who is it?!

“Mitsuri Kanroji!”

“Really?!” Mitsuri stood from her seat, thanking everyone she passed.

Meanwhile, if one stray gust of wind would magically whip through the auditorium, (Y/n) and Shinobu would have surely crumbled to dust on the breeze.

“Good for her.” (Y/n) spoke monotonously.

“Yeah, she’s often underestimated. It’s nice to see her get some recognition.” Shinobu agreed, matching her tone.

“Mhm, a lot smarter than people give her credit for. Not too mention so charismatic.”

“Extremely.”

Okay, well, that was unexpected, but there was always the VP position…

“And as is customary, second place and our new Vice President is… Obanai Iguro!”

What?! And they thought Mitsuri was the dark horse. Their little known treasurer, Obanai, was an actual snake! They didn’t even know he was campaigning!

That’s what happens when you only have your eyes and thoughts on each other twenty-four seven…

Although, it probably would have made them feel better to know that Obanai definitely cheated just so he could shake Mitsuri’s hand. Again, just ask them out instead of looking for a weird round about way to hold your crushes’ hand.

“What are we going to do with all of this free time?” (Y/n) asked aloud.

“I wonder.” Shinobu sighed tiredly.

***

They did find something to do with that spare time.

All year they had been cramming, taking every opportunity they could to eek out a higher GPA, but it was still neck and neck. Their AP psychology final was the last grade that had yet to be entered.

They really wasted that whole year studying instead of acknowledging their feelings and the fact that they would be thousands of miles away from each other, huh?

But they would be forced to confront those feelings soon enough when they were called down to the office.

“Congratulations ladies, it may come to no surprise to you, but you both have achieved the best grades of your senior class. We have two valedictorians this year!” The principal chortled delightedly. “Would you two mind terribly to write your speech together? I think it would be more impactful that way.”

“I see no problem with it.” Shinobu answered casually.

“We can figure something out.” (Y/n) shrugged.

“Great! Two weeks until graduation. Try not to let it get to you, I’m sure you girls will do just fine.”

“Thank you.” They answered together.

They had thought this outcome would depress them after the election debacle, but both felt rather neutral about it. They hadn’t had much time together with all the work they had been doing so having to write a speech together seemed like a good out.

Or, you know, could have just chilled and asked to hang out instead.

As they walked back to their study hall, they tried to deligate a time to meet. Easier said than done. These two were so busy with all of their extra curriculars that finding an decent time would be impossible!

“I guess we might have to plan something overnight over the weekend so we can work on this.” Shinobu suggested.

Yes! That’s how you do it Kochou! How will (L/n) respond?

“Over the weekend…” (Y/n) pretended to mull it over, “Yeah, that should work. No one will be home except for me, so we should be able to get it done without any distractions.”

Oh my god, an unsupervised sleepover?!

“Sounds good.”

It’s happening! It’s happening!

“Cool.”

“Great.”

…

“See you then.”

“Yeah.”

Awww, so awkward! But we already knew their social skills were a little out of wack.

***

They had been anticipating this meet up all week. Of course neither brought it up at all because they couldn’t afford to sound excited by the prospect, but when their track and softball practices let out, there they were walking side by side to (Y/n)’s house! Something they hadn’t dared dreamed about in their wildest fantasies.

Shy glances, brushing hands on the narrow sidewalk! They could die happy!

Wow guys, dial it in a little bit.

Shinobu wasted no time committing (Y/n)’s home to memory. Every cute picture, every smell, every little knickknack on (Y/n)’s shelves— she was in (Y/n)’s room! Ah! How exciting!

“What do you want for dinner?” (Y/n) asked.

Shinobu nearly swooned at the domesticity of it all.

“Anything is fine.” She somehow managed to sound casual as she plopped down on the edge of (Y/n)’s bed.

***

They were taking a break from typing out their seamless speech to have the takeout that had been dropped off and Shinobu was searching for a talking point. They had never talked about anything that wasn’t school related.

“Wow, isn’t this a blast from the past.” Shinobu chuckled, seeing the row of yearbooks on (Y/n)’s self.

Still school related, but it was something.

“Oh yeah,” (Y/n)’s lips twitched curiously.

“Let’s revisit, maybe—“

“No need for that. I could put something on the tv.”

“I guess some background noise would be nice.” Shinobu smiled, still reaching for the most recent year book since she hadn’t had the time to look at it yet.

“We should finish typing out the speech so we can send it in for evaluation.” (Y/n) tried to deter her again, reaching for the book.

Why was she being so weird about a silly yearbook?

Shinobu pulled the book towards her chest, away from (Y/n)’s hands. She sensed the discontent too, and she wanted to make (Y/n) squirm.

“What don’t you want me to see? Is your picture embarrassing? Did you blink again like in third grade?”

“Ha ha, yeah, you don’t need to see it. Or if you do, look in your own yearbook when you go home.” (Y/n) tried to snatch the yearbook away again, notably more uneasy.

Again, Shinobu held it out of reach, standing up and running away with an evil grin and book secured under her arm.

“Shinobu!” (Y/n) ran after her, but Shinobu was always faster, that’s why she gave up on cross and track in seventh grade.

“Come on now,” Shinobu laughed, cracking open the book as she slid behind the living room table, “What could be so bad that you wouldn’t want me to see…”

(Y/n)’s picture was totally fine. It was Shinobu’s picture that held something interesting. Below her picture, by her name, was a little heart in what appeared to be purple highlighter. Damning evidence. Shinobu’s own heart picked up in tempo.

(Y/n) snatched the yearbook out of Shinobu’s hands, though it was already too late. Without a word she walked stiffly back to her room, shoving to book back in place while Shinobu stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’ll finish typing out the speech and I’ll email it in. You can go home.” (Y/n) told her without looking back at her. Her voice wavered ever so slightly, but Shinobu noticed.

(Y/n) sat on the bed, back to Shinobu, and opened her laptop again. Any teasing and gloating Shinobu had on the tip of her tongue died.

Good job reading the room for once, Shinobu. You’ve earned a cookie.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry I looked, but this is a good thing I think, because I actually—“

“I don’t want to hear it!” (Y/n) snapped. “I don’t care what you think because it won’t matter anyway! I’ll be almost seven thousand miles away so who cares!”

Shinobu’s throat tightened and she tried to swallow the awful feeling down, but it almost made her feel worse. She should have swallowed her pride and said something sooner, because (Y/n) was right, what good would it do them now? They’d only have the summer… maybe less if (Y/n) needed time to get used to Tokyo.

“Alright then. See you Monday I guess.” Shinobu said solemnly.

(Y/n) didn’t reply and Shinobu gathered her things and left. As soon as she got home, she stalked passed Kanae who was surprised to see her.

“I thought you were having a sleepover tonight.” She called.

“Cancelled. Not feeling well.”

“Oh, well you have mail on the counter—“

“Later.” Shinobu grunted, stomping up the stairs.

“Okay, grumpy. Feel better soon.” Kanae could tell this was an emotional, ‘I don’t feel good’ and not a physical, ‘I don’t feel good.’, so she decided to give Shinobu some space.

As soon as Shinobu was alone in her room, she buried her face in her pillow to soak up the frustrated and hopeless tears. Then she wallowed in her sadness the rest of the night and most of the next morning.

She turned her head, glaring at Kanae when she entered without so much as a knock and turned on the lights. In her hands she carried a plate of food and a letter.

“I’m not hungry.” Shinobu grumbled, turning away and burying herself under her blankets.

“At least read your mail first,” Kanae sighed, “I don’t know what your attitude is all about, but I think it might help.” She poked at Shinobu beneath the covers until an exasperated hand pushed out from underneath and snatched the letter from Kanae’s hand.

When Kanae left, Shinobu sat up and looked at the letter, finally registering who it was from. Quickly, she tore it open and read it.

Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as she had originally thought.

***

“It’s no secret that Shinobu and I, for as civil as we seem to be with each other, fought like crazy to be the one to give this speech.”

“As you can see, I couldn’t manage to shake (Y/n) free from my coattails, so here we both are.” Shinobu teased, earning a quiet rumble of laughter through the crowd.

They hit all the right beats in their speech, but Shinobu could tell as the closing words got closer, (Y/n) was trying harder not to get choked up.

“And so, to finally break free from the devil woman next to me, I’ve decided to attend Tokyo University because it was the furthest I could physically get from her.” (Y/n)’s voice broke at the end, but it was covered by the polite laughter of the crowd.

Shinobu caught her hand in her own, causing (Y/n) to meet her eyes questioningly, tears threatening to fall.

“Which is why I am happy to announce that I too, will be attending Tokyo University.” Shinobu declared, going off script, dabbing the tears from (Y/n)’s cheeks with the sleeve of her gown.

“What?” (Y/n) sobbed. Surely she had misheard.

In a surprising turn of events Shinobu had actually applied to both schools just in case (Y/n) had the same idea, but her application to Tokyo had been lost in the mail for weeks and then her acceptance letter decided to get lost too, for quiet a few months, actually!

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Shinobu grinned.

That grin was quickly swiped off of her face, when (Y/n)’s lips overzealously met hers, but she was all too happy with the interruption to mind.

“Oh my god! It’s finally happening! My ship!” Mitsuri stood from her seat and cheered, prompting everyone else to do the same.

It was sure to be a valedictorian speech that would not be soon forgotten. Breathless, the couple delivers their final lines before they could be shooed off of the stage for their overt display of affection.

[ducknotinarow]

Ramble about: Mikey! :D I wanna know all about the sunshine baby ;3; any verse and anything you wanna talk about

| Ramble about my muse

Imma do this where I start on things that apply to all takes of Mikey then more specific stuff for each verse I have. Mostly it'ss just be 2003 and 2012 though since Rise ive talked about so i left him out of his own section and 87 a bit newer so his bit will be the shortest.

Aromatic Pansexual. Mikey dosen't care to much for being in a romantic relationship this dosen't mean he won't he a bit content with his own interests and platonic relationships. It's why he tends to vicariously live and meddle a bit in his brothers/friends relationships.

He attracted to ones good vibes over their gender uwu. Mikey has actually gotten experience under his belt he just dosen’t talk about it. He can keep thinks more casual.

Genderfluid. pronouns? he will actually use any. he/him. They/Them. She/Her.

I have made a few mentions here and there on a few Mikey's being pretty open on their gender in responses. Like how Rise and 2012 both share an interest in painting their nails and their brothers nails or shells if they let him

Mikey dosen't use Labels however. He is just Mikey.

All Mikeys do like to paint their nails but they don't all push it to their brothers. 87/03 go with one color and its mostly just orange. 12/rise will mix it up and sometimes to mutplie colors at a time.

Highly empathic. Mikey is very attuned to others feelings it's why hes the likely the one you wanna meet first out of the four. He dosen't view many as threat which can be both bad and good. SO if Mikey DOSE feel someone can't be trusted it might pay to listen to him.

Has ADHD. Now really only the Rise version has this confirmed but well I always saw the case for 2003 and 2012 and I can see it easily applied to him over all.

Highly admires all his brothers. True to his place as the baby in the family Mikey looks up to his brothers and admires them for who they are. Often trying to emulate them.

Also because of that and his empathy hes highly aware of his older brothers hang ups and struggles. He knows Leo burned of Leader/How hard they are on themself (rise), He knows Raph carries the worlds problems on his shoulders, He knows Donnie sets his self worth into his mind and creations and feels like a failure if he cant fix an issue. Mikey is painfully aware of this all.

It why hes a tad more relaxed and laid back and tries to get them involved in his own antics. Or gets a bit to involved in what they are doing. Yeah hes annoying but its coming from a good place.

Super protective. Sorry to anyone who dates his brothers or takes a liking to them. Will he befriend you and be that siblings that steals his brothers partner away to hang with him? yes he will. But theres a slight motive behind it. He's making sure you good for his brothers and well thats a hard thing to crack to Mikey because of how highly he thinks of them. Even Casey someone he is friends with he has done this with.

That another thing out of all the turtles? Mikey is the one you don't wanna make mad. Sure Raph, Leo and even the rare times Donnie snap is something you wanna avoid but Mikeys worse. He aims to hurt. Last Ronin uwu is a good example or ya know 2012 throwing a whole couch out a window over Leo or Rise Mikey throwing buildings and boats even.

It's stated and shown in many of the shows and comics that Mikey could be one of the greatest ninjas out there, Even rivaling Leo's abilities. I feel last Ronin shows it most. He has often gotten the better of all his brothers when pitted against them at times. Mikey just lacks the drive, focus and motivation at times.

87

Has Severe stage fright, just can not handle the spot light funny enough.

Is a major gift giver for no reason at all. he just sees something and thinks his brothers would like it. Sometimes yeah its just a rock it made him think of them okay

Gets upset if his brothers disguises clash in anyway u-u just cause they live off trash don't mean they have to dress it.

Casey's look is trash but Casey scares him to much to say anything about it.

2003

Having to kill a deal with version of Splinter fucked with him a bit more than he has noticed. He felt guilty about it for months and made sure to be a bit more serious with training for a bit of time.

Loved super heros since his first comic book he ever came across.

His favorites are Captain America, Spider man, Batman and Wonder women.

It's what inspires him to feel he and brothers could do real good for the city. Not just simply hide away they can help people.

Helping others is his biggest goal. Even why he dawned the Turtle Titan persona.

Mikey dose a lot of charity work on his own. Making sure orphanages/foster homes are getting toys and essentials to the kids. Helping their homeless friends out with basics through the year.

What makes Mikey happiest? being useful to others even if he might complain here and there knowing he helped someone? it just feels nice.

2012

Admires Donnie the most of his brothers and is why he often is always in their lab. Also them always being team up as the B team adds to his closeness.

pretty open on his whole gender thing. He’s got a collection of dresses and wigs and such. It’s why he loves those teen magazines.

Loves to paint his brothers shells tends to keep him quite and it's a fun bonding moment for Mikey. At most it's just a small section hell do a small design on. But if they will let him go all out he will uwu

Has a few of online friends that he met from online games, he has actually met in person. Hes worried his brothers would freak out about it. So he kinds of keeps this fact to himself.

[snlhostharry]

romeo and juliet thing

harry styles x reader

“rivals” to lovers au 

~3k words

warnings: cursing, mentions of sex 

my piece for @meetmeinfleetwood ‘s to lovers challenge, congrats on your milestone! 

a/n: amazing thing I realized while writing this: if you don’t put it off you can actually get it done in a reasonable amount of time... I will not be applying this to any other aspects of my life 

You’ve come to enjoy album release parties. The first one you’d ever been to was the one for your first album, something someone from your publicity team has put together, which they did a decent job on but you did not have a good time. You were so nervous about the album coming out at all that you tried to use alcohol to calm your nerves, so you can’t really remember anything about it besides briefly throwing up in the bathroom. After that incident, you resolved not to drink before the party ever again and the next few you’d been too for other artists were actually fun in their own special ways. 

By the time your second album is on the cusp on release, you’ve decided that you deserved it after the mess of writer's block you’d gotten in the middle of trying to write the thing, which had gotten so bad that you’d been called into a “special meeting” by management where they talked for what felt like hours about deadlines and marketing and basically tried to intimidate you into finishing faster. Something happened that allowed you to finish, it was an odd timing but it did help. 

But that was ages ago, and you’re trying to focus on the party. 

Which is easy enough, winding through the room talking to friends and investors, small talk is easy when you're trying to avoid something else. You’re talking to someone who’s name you are definitely not going to remember when this is over, when out of the corner of your eye you think you see someone who should definitely not be here. When you're finally released from said conversation you walk around the room, trying to find the intruder. You make your way all the way back to the bathroom, when suddenly the person you’ve been looking for slams right into you. 

You’re far enough in a corner that you think no one can see you, which is good because if anyone got photos of the two of you together you would never hear the end of it. Harry Styles looks at you like he’s been caught in the act, the guilty expression not leaving his face even as he says, “Funny seeing you here.” 

“At my own party?” You ask. 

He licks his lips, trying to buy time to think of something to say. “Before you say anything,” He says, treading cautiously, “I was told to come here.” 

You narrow your eyes, “By who?” 

“Someone who works for me,” He replies, “Which means that someone who works for you gave them the information.” 

You groan, “Of course they did, well at least make sure they get your good side when someone comes around to take photos.” 

He smiles at that, “That’s every side, love.” 

You shake your head, typing a message on your phone and quickly sending it, “It’s not but it’s cute that you think so.” 

“Ignoring that little comment,” He says, seeing that your attention is divided between him and the person you seem to be very angrily texting. “It’s a good song you wrote, I’m excited to hear the rest of the album.”

“Oh,” You say, eyes widening, “Thank you..?” He tilts his head to the side gently, clearly his way of asking a question without actually asking a question. “Sorry, I just didn’t realize we were doing the thing where we pretend this is normal, and you are normally at my party.”

He laughs, “Didn’t know there was pretending involved.” 

“I’m just so used to pretending to loathe you all day everyday that it's just so natural,” You say, and wait to see if he’ll get the joke. 

He shrugs, “Really? I don’t think of you all that much.” 

Your phone buzzes in your hand before you can respond, one message sits unread underneath the ten you’d sent a few minutes earlier in rapid succession. Honestly? I invited him because I thought it would be fun. Of course that would be her rationale for not telling you about this very obvious stunt. Inviting your “rival” to your album release party is the perfect way to get your name in some headlines conveniently before the whole thing goes live, not like you need them but then again you do pay people to manage this kind of thing so they figure they should be doing something. 

Oh yeah, Harry is supposed to be your “rival.” Think of some of the most infamous musical feuds of all time, and then knock it down a few pegs, and that’s where you would put yours and harrys. No one knows how it really started, something between a couple of twitter stans you’ve been told, but it suddenly gave each of your respective “people” the genius idea to milk that kind of exposure for all that it’s worth. The two of you have been pit against each other ever since the release of your debut albums, both self titled and both released within two weeks of each other. It hasn’t harmed either of you, being compared to the other, since you’re both pretty evenly matched in terms of talent. 

It seems to only exist to make the occasional headline when the media remember that it “exists.” There have been headlines wondering if you’ve mentioned him in tik toks (you didn’t) in instagram posts (you were shading someone but not him) and if this whole thing started due to a one night stand that went the wrong way (definitely not). 

You pull yourself back into the conversation, realizing you're being rude trying to think of something to respond to the text message. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“Who are you rage tweeting over there?”

“Rage texting actually,” You say as another one comes through, “Fucking Melanie.” 

“Unfortunate that her parents gave her that as a first name.”

You look up at him right away, “Not funny.” He laughs at his own joke anyway, “Melanie-” You say, holding up your phone for dramatic effect, “Is the head of the PR team, which is three people but anyway she is the one who seems to have coordinated this whole thing as a prank on me apparently.” 

“It’s kind of funny,” He says. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “I’m sure from your point of view it is.” Suddenly, someone comes rounding the corner near where the two of you are standing, and you freeze on instinct until they pass right in front of you without even looking in your direction. You realize that in a panic, you’d grabbed onto Harry’s hand and you decide that the two of you are going to have to finish this conversation somewhere else. “Come with me,” You sigh, leading him through the back of the room all the way to a small door that leads to an outside area at the back of the venue. You look at him again, his eyes glinting in the lights hanging above your heads. “What were we talking about?”

“Are you ever listening to me?” He asks, half joking. 

“Don’t take it personally I’m only half listening to everyone,” You answer, “It’s called multitasking.” 

“Seems tiring.” 

“Better than being bored,” You say.

He looks at you for a second without saying and then shoves his hands in his pockets, “Why are we out here again?” 

“I’m trying to figure out what’s the game plan here, if you’re supposed to be seen here alone, seen with me, if I’m supposed to throw some kind of tantrum about it.” 

“Besides the one your already throwing?” 

You stop looking at your phone, “Ouch.” 

“Punishment for continuing to ignore me.”

You turn off your phone and hold it in your hand gently, giving him your full attention. “I’m listening, but only if you’re going to say something that it’s some kind of thinly veiled insult,” You click your tongue, “You’re one of those guys who flirts by making fun of girls aren’t you?” 

He thinks about it, “That’s a type?” 

“Yeah, for people who are still mentally in high school.” 

“So you wouldn't be interested then?” 

You smile, thinking about it. Here’s the thing, despite the fact you very much have been pretending to loathe Harry Styles for two years just so you don’t slip it if someone asks, you recognise now that he is objectively attractive. The curls, and the eyes and the borderline too busy suit jacket he’s wearing (that both of you know costs an exorbitant amount) is all contributing to a look that is working for you at the moment. Also working in his favor? The semi enemies to lovers arc that you have going on in your head. “Despite the fact that I think that kind of flirting is beneath you, at this moment, it’s currently working for me.” 

You take a step forward, closer to him, and suddenly your phone starts going off again. You check it briefly, trying very much not to ruin the moment but very cognizant of the fact that this is your party and people are going to start noticing if you're gone. You look down, see it’s not a life or death emergency and look right back at Harry. “Let me guess,” He says, “She wants you to kiss me for the cameras?”

You laugh, “No, but I’m going to do it anyway.” You kiss him, he leans in and you think that you might just seal the deal with harry styles out on this very nice patio when your phone rings again. You pull away when it’s clear that whoever it is needs you desperately, you look at the message, and groan, “Fucking Melaine.” You look towards the door and back at Harry, “Okay this is not over, but I have to go take care of stuff, so just meet me here after the whole thing is over and we will finish this thing.” 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” You smile, “We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers, like Romeo and Juliet without the ending.” You pause, “Well maybe with the end if Melanie kills me with her bare hands for not talking to this producer she wants me to meet.” 

“Later, then.” 

You take him back to your apartment that night. And you invite him back the next day, and then the week and then a few more times after that. As much as you had meant it a joke at the time, the kind of forbidden lovers aspect of trying to keep this whole thing under wraps is sexy in a way that you would never admit outloud. 

You’ve both become shockingly adept at sneaking in and out of apartments, neighborhoods (Harry has multiple priorities; why that is you're not exactly sure) and sometimes clubs if you're in a group and it’s dark enough that you think no one will see you. 

“Should I climb up through the window?” You ask Harry as you stand in the backyard of his house in London,  swimsuit clad even though you’ve gone nowhere near the pool. 

Harry looks at you from his place on the ground next to you. He’d refused to get a chirhair to sit on, so he just sits on the ground, looking out over the pool and the fence. “Why would you do that?” 

“Romeo and Juliet thing, didn’t he climb through the window to see her?”

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around your bare legs in some attempt to keep your attention on him, “I don’t know, never read it.” He laughs a little, “But I think if you did that some pap would catch you with your ass hanging out of my window.” 

You laugh too, “And you would never fucking stop laughing at that.” 

“No, I would not.” 

You kick your leg out so that you almost hit him right in the face, “Fucker, I thought you were over being mean to me as a tactic. You have successfully romanced me.” 

“Really? Because you’re staring at the house like you’re going to kill me for my money.” 

“You’d put me in your will? That’s sweet,” You turn to him, pulling your sunglasses onto the top of your head. 

“You are so hot right now.”

“It is hot,” You say, looking out at the clear sky, “What an observation.” 

“You’re screwing with me.” 

“Because I’m too tired to screw you at the moment,” You say, “Can’t we just enjoy one day in one of your two properties out in the sun before you start making me exercise?” 

“I wouldn’t call it that.” 

“It is work,” You say, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that song you played yesterday, I think it needs to be less.. Ethereal.” 

“What does that mean?” 

You sit down next to him, laying your head in the grass. “Harry Styles is a rockstar, if you’re going to do a sad song, which seems to be your specialty, it needs to at least have a beat.” 

“People don’t want to dance to sad songs.” 

“Dude,” You say matter of factly, “Of course they do, I do and I think I speak for a very large section of the United States population.You need a sad song you can at the very least scream too, if not full out dance.” 

“So what’s your suggestion?” He asks. 

“Add more guitar,” You tell him, “Like a lot more. Take all the lyrics you have and put them on a track that sounds like it should be about your new puppy or something.” 

“Who writes songs about puppies?” 

“It was an example, H.” You sigh, “but you get the point.” 

“I’ll think about it.” 

“Don’t be like that.” He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you let it go as one of his moods for a while. But it goes on for longer than you thought it would be, and eventually you sit up. He’s staring down at his phone, frozen, and then he starts typing without saying anything to you. “What are you looking at?” You ask him, and he doesn’t say anything. “What is it H?” You ask again. 

“Fuck it all,” He says, dropping his phone to the ground, and covering his face with his hands as he laid down with his head in the grass. 

You pick his phone up off the ground and see that he’s opened twitter. Staring right back at you is a picture of the two of you kissing outside a small restaurant from the night before, you rack your brain trying to think if you saw anywhere when you were there and you swore you didn’t. Like it or not, everyone is going to know about the two of you now, including Melanie who had told you not to interact with Harry after the party expressly. “Shit,” You say, and your phone begins to ring the sound of Temporary Fix filling the small backyard. 

“Fucking Melanie,” Harry says, still lying on the ground, “She’s going to ream me.” 

“Well at least she’ll do it to both of us,” You groan, not even bothering to go and get your phone. You stand up, as a tension headache begins to form in your temples, “Well I’m going to get into the pool.” 

“Now?” He asks you. “Seems like the perfect way to avoid this problem, doesn’t it?” 

He also gets to his feet, and takes your hand, “Yeah it does.” 

And together the two of you jump into the pool. 

It’s an hour before you finally call Melanie back, even though you meant to avoid it for at least another hour. You sit at the kitchen counter while Harry takes a call in another room, dreading this call because you do not want to hear her yell at you for nothing, mostly because you're a grown woman and are above being lectured. 

“Were you just not going to tell me about this?” 

“Yes, that was the plan.” 

“I told you not to-”

“Yeah but I had already made plans by then that I couldn’t cancel.” 

“There was one man in the entire world, who you couldn’t fuck-”

“I know, what are the odds?” 

“Could you please stop fucking with me for one second?” She says, “This is serious.” 

“It’s not that bad, for you I mean.” You shrug, “I mean for me my personal business is all out on the internet now and I’ll be permanently known as one of Harry Styles’ girlfriends but for you what’s better press wise than a good ol enemies to lovers arc? I won’t tell anyone the enemies part wasn’t real if you won’t.” 

You hear her sigh from the other end of the phone, and then tap her nails against the desk. “You might be onto something there.” 

“I’m always onto something Melanie, I’m the artist here aren’t I?” And you hang up, before you say something that you’ll regret. You’d meant what you said, you were mostly just uncomfortable with everyone knowing who you're dating, especially the harry twitter stans who are known for being very excitable to say the least, you could see why they liked him so much but you would be lying if you said they didn’t scare you. You think of all the interviews you’ll do in the future where people will ask about him, about your relationship and maybe about how it ended. 

Harry comes back into the kitchen and grabs two beers from the fridge. He opens both and sets one out in front of you. “How did it go?” 

“Fine,” You say. You look at him, “Is this the part where we break up because you can’t be seen with me?” You put your face into the counter and let out another groan. 

“Never,” He says, taking a drink, “No one else I would rather weather this shit-storm with.” 

You smile, “Same here.” 

[randomprose]

MoShang Week 2021 Day 01: celebrity au / sugar / rivals

When all is said and done—that is, after Shang Qinghua had accepted his victory and fielded the press of any question of the stunt Mobei Jun pulled—Shang Qinghua goes back to the Endless Abyss Sugar Masters kitchen studio.

He sits in front of the xianxia sugar sculpture monstrosity Mobei Jun made to tell Shang Qinghua and basically the whole world of his feelings and couldn’t help but snort a laugh at the life sized cultivator Mobei Jun sculpted out of pastille in Shang Qinghua’s likeness.

It’s…big. When Shang Qinghua called it a monstrosity, he wasn’t even exaggerating. It’s bigger than even Mobei Jun with its base, an intricate background, and a truly impressive pose of him riding a sword. Shang Qinghua truly believes Mobei Jun would’ve won had he not been technically disqualified.

The theme was ‘famous historical people’ and while Shang Qinghua has surely made a name for himself in the culinary industry, he isn’t exactly in the same line as Athena or Leonardo Da Vinci.

It’s just…fucking massive (has he already said that? Because it is) and just really, really intricate. Wow. Shang Qinghua can’t take his eyes off it. It took a truly herculean effort earlier for him to snap out of how amazed he is. This could probably sell way more than the average expensive sugar sculpture. He doesn’t even know if anyone will have the heart to melt this shit for consumption. Hell, it shouldn’t be. This piece should be preserved and put in a food art museum or something.

Is that egotistical of him? To want this sugar sculpture of himself preserved for all eternity? Well, it doesn’t matter! Embarrassing at it is, it really is such a work of art. Mobei Jun should’ve won the whole damn thing and he would’ve too! If the stupid man hadn’t—if he wasn’t so—why did he—

Mobei Jun really likes him this much?

Shang Qinghua doesn’t even know where to begin to process things. For the longest time, he always thought of Mobei Jun as a cocky upstart hellbent on running him out of the industry. Up until this competition and having been forced to work together at the start, Shang Qinghua has never thought of Mobei Jun other than as a rival no matter how one-sided it may be. And now suddenly he finds out it’s not only one-sided but he’s apparently Mobei Jun’s muse and the whole reason he got into patisserie and confectionaries? That he wasn’t out to ruin Shang Qinghua’s career but just actually wants to work with him? And date him?? Apparently???

How does he even respond to that? Does anyone know? Because Shang Qinghua sure as hell doesn’t!

And it’s not even that he finds the idea of dating Mobei Jun unthinkable. They’re friends! Sort of! He thinks! Well, they’re friends now that’s for sure. Before the producers decided that ‘hey, you know what will be great? If we pit the members of the final team against each other like the fucking Hunger Games!’ they were teammates and they were one of the strongest teams to beat. They’re very popular with the audiences too. And no matter how Shang Qinghua had tried his best to not like Mobei Jun at the start, you just don’t go clearing through one of the toughest most cut throat culinary competition in the country as a team without developing some sort of friendship along the way.

When Shang Qinghua finally got over himself and got to know the guy, he found that he’s actually…nice. Great, even! Mobei Jun is funny in that quiet sort of way and has the driest sense of humor Shang Qinghua has ever known of someone. Once, Shen Jiu was grilling them about their spun sugar technique and Mobei Jun mumbled something vaguely offensive and rude that made Shang Qinghua laugh and had Shen Jiu nearly flaying him alive on national TV.

And Mobei Jun apparently likes him way more than how a friend should but it’s...not bad? He’s not uncomfortable or creeped out or anything. It’s just…surprising! Yeah. Shang Qinghua is self-aware enough that people who look like Mobei Jun don’t usually go for people who look like, well, him.

Still, the question remains.

Does Shang Qinghua feel the same for Mobei Jun? And if he does, will he really be opposed to dating him?

The doors to the studio open and who should come in but Mobei Jun himself. He’s a little early than Shang Qinghua expected. He’s not done thinking things over! But he looks at Mobei Jun changed out of his chef’s attire and into a casual loose fitted shirt over dark jeans and combat boots, perfectly at ease at himself despite the earlier stunt he pulled while the person said stunt was directed at is already way in over his head overthinking things.

Mobei Jun stops just by the side of his confession piece looking expectant and Shang Qinghua sighs.

Ah. Who is he kidding? Mobei Jun is exactly, exactly, his type it’s insane. His ideal man in every sense of the word and he kind of hates himself for it.

“You idiot,” Shang Qinghua exhales leaning forward on his knees where he’s perched on the steel table of their former work station. He lets out a short almost hysterical laugh as he runs his hands through his face then his hair in exasperation. “Why did you have to throw in the towel? Don’t even try to reason. That’s what you fucking did. You couldn’t just follow the theme and then ask for my number right after? What the fuck.”

Mobei Jun has the audacity to not look affected at being called out. He just blinks at Shang Qinghua who’s clearly having some kind of Crisis. He thinks it’s cute.

“Do you feel like your victory has no meaning?

“What? No.” Shang Qinghua sits up and sees Mobei Jun has come closer. “I don’t believe in shit like that. A win is a win no matter the circumstances. I won and you lost. Hah!”

“Hmm,” Mobei Jun hums, leaning on the edge of the table beside Shang Qinghua with his phone held out. “So, can I get your number now?”

Shang Qinghua rolls his eyes but takes Mobei Jun’s phone anyway. “See, this is what you should’ve done instead of being all cheesy and confessing on national television.”

“Well, you know,” Mobei Jun shrugs. “Grand gestures and all that.”

Shang Qinghua spies the slight tilt of his lips as he hands him his phone back and, God, this man makes him want to expire right on the spot.

“Well, you looked like a straight-up fool,” he says instead by way of deflection but he really can’t do anything with the stubborn smile spreading on his face.

Mobei Jun doesn’t rise up to the taunt. He just holds up his phone and snaps a quick picture of Shang Qinghua, making him blink after the flash went off.

“Wha—”

“No, see, you look like a straight-up fool,” he says showing him the picture he took where Shang Qinghua looks, for all intents and purposes, a deer caught in a headlight. It’s quite literally unflattering.

“I wasn’t ready! No!” Shang Qinghua attempts to snatch Mobei Jun’s phone but he quickly turns the other way. Shang Qinghua tries to reach for it still while draped across his back. “Don’t you dare put that as my contact photo. Argh!”

“Nah,” Mobei Jun says easily avoiding all of Shang Qinghua’s attempts and already setting the picture as his contact photo. “I like this one. Very candid.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Mm. Pick you up later at seven?”

Shang Qinghua huffs as Mobei Jun returns to leaning against the table. He does not get off of him and just remains slumped on Mobei Jun’s side, chin propped on his shoulder. If Mobei Jun leans down just a little he could easily just plant one on Shang Qinghua.

“Eight and you’re paying for everything. Then afterward, we’ll take another photo, a nicer one, and that will be my contact photo. I’ll take one of you too I guess.”

Mobei Jun hums low and warm sounding content. “Alright,” he says before leaning in to kiss Shang Qinghua sweetly on the nose.

Shang Qinghua scrunches his face at that before leaning forward to give Mobei Jun a proper kiss. He feels Mobei Jun smile against his lips and couldn’t help smiling in return.

[ao3 | twt and other moshang week prompts | buy me a ko-fi // more fics]

[clockworkgraystairs]

Everything I didn’t ask for #3

JURDAN FIGHT CLUB AU

Rating M

Warnings: slight violence (?) Mentions of blood.

After discovering Jude is one of the main fighters, Cardan tries to process what on earth is going on.

In the meantime, worrying about gettin out of that job alive.

Chapters: 1   2   3   4   5 [coming soon]

EIDAF Masterlist            General Masterlist             AO3

Tags: @dontfwithlibrarians @flowersinvegas @jurdanhell @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover @sensitivehighlord @judexcardanxgreenbriar @thesirenwashere @absolute-dissapointment​ 

[if i forgot to tag someone i’m sorry! and please let me know]

AFTER

Cardan remained kneeled next to the unconscious girl. His eyes wide and still locked to Jude’s. Around them the crowd still roared, but for him it was just blurred background noise.

He felt words trapped in his throat. The urge to tell her something. Anything. 

Jude. What the fuck is going on? What are you doing here? Are you ok? You need a doctor.

Nothing came out.

She didn’t say anything either. She kept looking down at him with that odd expression. It was as if the mischievous and teasing girl from before had vanished. In front of him was a fighter, with a look that promised pain for whoever stood in her way.

A hand on his back snapped his attention back. 

“Move, Cardan.” Locke reaching for the girl on the floor. “We need to get her out of here.”

He quickly helped his friend lifting the girl’s feet. Before leaving, he gazed back to Jude one more time, but she had already turned away as a tall man raised her hand above her head and paraded her in front of the audience. 

They kept screaming for The Queen as Cardan crossed the door to the room where he and Locke had left the other unfortunates.

After leaving the girl, Cardan leaned his back against a wall and once more tried to make sense of what he’d just saw.

“It seems like you go for the tough ones, don’t you?” Locke teased, a little hint of nervousness in his words.

“I didn’t know… I mean,” he said. “I thought she was only a guest here or something.”

His friend shrugged. “Maybe she is. People sometimes gets into this things for money or for sport.”

Suddenly, he remembered the exact point of what he’d wanted to say to Locke for the past hours. He straightened and pushed his friend’s shoulder. “What the fuck are we doing here anyway?? You said this was a good job dumbass!”

“Well it is!” He answered, crossing his arms. “If it was a safe or legal event, I didn’t ask. Bartenders who make a lot of questions are not usually hired. And here, my friend, we are making some good money.”

Cardan stared at him.  He was right, he knew that. But still, underground fighting events were deeply illegal. They were since pretty much always but about a decade ago, a similar event had ended up in chaos because rival gang members started a riot. Many people, involved or not, had died. The place was burned down in the process. And it had uncovered several cases of well positioned people involved in drug dealing, women trafficking, among other things. 

Since that day, police had fiercely hunted illegal fighting pits. There were some, of course. But it was rare for anyone to hear about them.

Then again, Cardan knew what it was to have family involved in illegal stuff. And thankfully he’d been able to leave Balekin before he’d messed up more. Or at least he tried. 

Even if he didn’t work with his brother anymore, he was forced to give a fee every month to repay him after one night when Cardan, highly intoxicated, left a warehouse unguarded and several merchandise was stolen. Expensive merchandise. He was going to spend his entire life repaying that mistake. But at least he was on his own, not having to answer any other of Balekin’s calls.

He took a deep breath. He needed to get his shit together. After all the events of the night his thoughts were running full speed, not to mention the headaches the sight of blood and beatings caused him. There was still a faint ringing noise at the back of his mind. 

The door opened and Madoc entered, eyeing all the unconscious bodies laying on the beds. “Good. Leave them there and go back to the bar. Someone will take care of this.”

As they walked back, Cardan eyed the remaining guests. Almost half of them had started to leave after the last encounter, but several other remain. Going back to the gambling tables and talking to each other. He wondered if Jude would still be there, maybe if he-

A hard bump on his shoulder stopped his trail of thoughts, followed by a growl and a hand grabbing his shirt roughly. “Watch it, idiot.” 

He frowned and look up, finding a pair of cruel defying eyes staring back. The same ones he saw when the guy was beating the other one near death. Valerian.

His face and hair were cleaner now, he’d probably washed away the blood after the fight. Still, his expression remained the same. 

Cardan said nothing, if the guy was waiting for an apology he wasn’t going to get it. He might not be a fighter but he was certainly sick of bullies like him. The grip on his shirt didn’t loosen. Grabbing Valerian’s hands he jerked himself off. “I could say the same thing.” Cardan snarled, walking away with Locke.

He only managed a couple of steps before he was pushed to the ground.

The roughness of the floor scratched his forearm. He turned just in time to see Valerian’s fist merely inches from his face.

The next thing Cardan knew, a sharp pain erupted on his jaw throwing him down completely. He could hear Locke yelling something, but before he could turn to face his friend, a heavy body settled on top of him.

People started gathering around them.

Valerian grabbed his shirt again and another blow connected near his eye, blinding him for a moment. Something warm slid down his face. He snarled and grabbed the man’s arm, pushing him away. His fist raised again and Cardan braised himself for the next blow.  

One that never came. 

From one moment to another, the weight over him disappeared with a grunt. He quickly got up, looking at his attacker, who now had a slender arm pulling against his neck. Hard. 

Valerian arched and coughed, rage dancing on his eyes. Behind him, Jude kept janking the man back until they were at safer distance. Then, she let him go and move to stand between him and Cardan. She’d cleaned up too, Cardan noticed. Though she was still wearing the clothes from the match, her hair was loose and the dirt and blood were gone. 

After spitting on the floor, Valerian turned to Jude with gritted teeth, raising up with closed fists as if he were to throw himself against her. Jude just glared at him, fists clenched too. A slight smirk tugging up the corner of her lip.

“Is there any problem here?” Madoc’s strong but calm voice startled him, pulling him out of the scene in front of them. 

The two fighters dropped their defensive pose, eyes still locked at each other’s. 

“There isn’t, General, my apologies.” Valerian muttered. “The barman and I had a little disagreement.” 

“You being a jerk is common knowledge, not a disagreement.” Jude snorted.

The venomous glare he gave her send a shiver through Cardan’s skin. 

“Enough. Everybody back to work now. And you two,” Madoc hissed, pointing at Jude and Valerian. “Drop it. I don’t have time for another of your quarrels today.”

That said, he left, dragging some of the curious spectators back to the gambling tables.

Cardan stood there, not sure if he should approach Jude. Yet.

“You heard your General,” She purred. “Walk.”

Valerian gave a step towards her, baring his teeth. “You won’t be the boss’ favorite forever, bitch.”

Then he was gone. 

Cardan let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Hey man, are you ok?” Locke asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, you know I suck at fights, I should’ve-”

“Yeah, it’s ok.” He touched his brow, were Valerian’s blow had opened his skin. His fingers came back bloodied. 

“You should get that checked.” Jude’s voice softer now, the fierce eyes she’d worn at the end of the fight had disappeared too. “I’ll send over a healer.”

She turned to leave, but Cardan reached for her arm, stopping her. “Hey.”

Pulling back her arm, she fixed him an alarmed look. Right, they weren’t supposed to be seen together. He hesitated. The bruise on her cheek looked less swollen now, but it had started to gain a slight purple stain on the center. “Are you alright?” He mumbled, as casually as he could. 

Jude tilted her head and smirked. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

She noticed his clenched teeth and rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, go.”

Cardan nodded and turned to Locke, walking back to their assigned spot. There, Roach ran back and forth, mixing drinks for the clients gathering there. He’d look funny if it wasn’t for his panicked eyes, searching for his partners among the crowd.  

“About damn time!” He growled. “I’ve been attending all of our side for ages! Come here and- shit, Cardan what happened? Did you-”

“We’ll tell you later, let’s get this place free first.” Locke interrupted him, taking his gaze back to his friend’s wound. “You should get that cleaned, I don’t think people will appreciate blood-flavored drinks.”

They both chuckled as Cardan pressed a wet cloth to his brow. 

With Locke’s help, the bar was empty again in a couple of minutes. All the remaining guests were now minding their own business elsewhere.  

Roach sighed, resting his elbows on the table. “This is why I prefer to collect the money, rather than preparing the drinks. All those people are impossible!”

“Well that’s the fun part too.” Cardan sat on the floor, the cloth now extended all over his whole forehead. The places where he’d been hit throbbed harder now than a couple of minutes ago. 

“Yeah, as fun as being beaten just for walking.” Roach laughed. “Man you really have some bad luck.”   

“Not as bad as you’d think! Otherwise he wouldn’t have left with that gir-”

“Shht!” Cardan silenced him, feeling his cheeks slightly warm. “Let’s not talk about that here, her request.”

Locke barked a laugh, throwing another cloth at him. “You’re scared of Madoc, aren’t you? Fuck, I don’t blame you. He seems just ready to shot anyone anytime. But is he scarier than your girl? I wouldn’t dare getting on her way either.” 

They were going to mock him till the end of times, Cardan was sure of that. 

“You must be Cardan.” An unknown voice said, startling the three of them.

He looked up, taking the cloth away. 

A short, slim woman stood behind the bar. Her short hair, frizzled and oddly white, framed her fine features. She wore a blue scrub, and carried a small first aid kit in her right hand.

The healer, he assumed. 

“That’s me.” 

She nodded and started taking things out of the briefcase, alcohol, cotton wool, antiseptic and god knows what else. “Sit here please.” She motioned at the stool in front of her.

Once he did, she started attending his wound. Fast, quiet, efficiently.

“Did Jude send you?” He whispered. 

The healer hummed and nodded in response. Not much of a talker it would seem.

“Is she coming too?” He tried again, feeling dumb. But he needed some answers. 

“Miss Jude has already left the building.” 

Oh. Something sinked inside him. He let her work in silence, wincing just a bit when she pressed some first aid tape over his eyebrow. Had Jude treated her injuries already? He should probably stop thinking about her. She’d left already. 

“I’m done.” The woman’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. All of her items already packed except for a little pill box. “It will probably sting a little, but it won’t leave any scar. If you experiment any headaches, take one of this pills.” 

Cardan nodded. “Thanks, I will. If you see Jude, tell her I say thank you... Please.”

The girl stared at him. Pondering. Her gaze felt like it could pierce his skull. At last, she sighed. “I will.”

She extended her hand to him, he frowned. An awkward hand-shake, considering she hadn’t gave him one when she arrived. Still, he answered back. 

Then he felt it. 

Something folded between her fingers. 

Trying to keep a steady face, he took it, immediately putting it away from curious eyes. She grabbed her bag, ready to leave when Roach appeared next to them. 

“Uh- excuse me miss, I don’t mean to bother but I cut my finger with a glass a moment ago. And I was wondering if you could- you know.” He babbled and raised his hand, a small gash running along his index.

The healer considered him for a moment, then pulled something from her bag and left it next to Cardan’s pills. “Sorry, I cannot stay.” 

She walked away stiffly, soon disappearing behind some doors. Cardan watched her go.

A muffled laugh sounded behind him. He turned to find Locke covering his mouth in order to avoid the cackle that threatened to come out of it. Roach’s face was the embodiment of embarrassment and failure. 

On the table was a little pink band-aid.

“Nailed it man, NAILED IT!” Locke mocked him. “Please tell me you didn’t actually cut your finger on purpose just to talk to her.” 

“Of course I didn’t you ass! But I might have cut myself because… I was looking at her and didn’t pay attention to the damn broken glass.”

Locke and Cardan looked at each other before both erupted with laughter. Roach’s red ears didn’t help much.

Their jokes continued for a couple of minutes before vanishing completely at the sight of Madoc walking towards them. 

“Well gentleman,” He greeted them. “Your work for today has come to an end. Clean everything and meet me in the kitchens.”

It didn’t take much since they were used to clean as they worked. But still paid a little extra attention into leaving everything impeccable. The last thing they wanted was to owe anything to those people. 

Back in the kitchens, Madoc stood at the center. Waiting. Both of his hands behind him.

“I trust,” He started, glaring deeply at them. “That no word about what happened here today will leave your mouths. Am I correct?”

Cardan didn’t need to be a psychic to know that one of the hands Madoc kept unseen held his gun. 

“You needn’t ask.” Locke answered. “When we accepted the job we knew our lips would be sealed about it, and they’ll remain like that.” 

Well that first part wasn’t entirely true. But his friend had a clever mouth, specially when he needed to save his ass.   

Roach and Cardan swore too they wouldn’t say anything. 

“And if I find out that any of you slipped even the tiniest detail about this, you agree that I’ll have to kill all three of you.” Madoc smiled. “Well not that I’m really asking, but you’re aware of it now.” 

The group remained silent, breaths caught in their throats. 

Once that was cleared, he put away his gun and gave each one a small yellow envelope. “As promised. With a little extra since I had no complains for your work, a difficult thing to accomplish here.” He turned to Cardan. “About the incident with Valerian, I know it wasn’t your fault so, don’t worry about it.” 

Inside the envelope was pure cash. Enough to make Roach whistle. They thanked him and put away their envelopes. 

“There are three steady spots available for our bar zone. The last group, well, liked to gossip a bit too much.” Madoc sneered, clearly enjoying their reactions. Cardan was certain he could notice his pulse under his neck. “Same rules apply. One night every one or two weeks. Same payment, in case you’re interested of course.”

“We are.” Roach and Locke turned to him, wide eyed. The steadiness of his voice surprised even himself. “Consider it done.”

“Good. Keep the uniform then. There is a cab for you outside. I’ll let you know when you’re needed.” 

Outside, they found out most of the cars were already gone. Small groups of people gathered around some of the remaining vehicles to smoke and talk. On the opposite corner, a lonely cab waited for them. 

As soon as they crossed the door, his friend bursted into questions. 

““We are”?? Cardan what the hell were you thinking?!!” Roach nearly shouted. “I won’t deny this is well paid but agreeing to this… I don’t know man-”

Locke didn’t say anything, but his frowned brow was enough.

Cardan stopped in front of them. “Do you really think he was asking? After what he said? We were in this since we arrived, and saying ‘no’ Madoc would’ve only gave him another reason to get rid of us. You can’t- just refuse here, not with this kind of people.”  

A kind that, to his misfortune, he knew quite well. He sighed and passed a hand through his hair.

“I get it, I guess I just need to get used to the idea.” Locke mumbled, looking back to the building.

Roach panicked gaze was still on Cardan. “So this means there’s no way out? Not even a-”

“Fuuuck!” Locke suddenly whispered. “Guys isn’t that Garrett? There, next to the white Audi”

They turned to said car, where a small group of young men shared a bottle of whiskey. Cardan narrowed his eyes a bit but indeed, there he was.

Garrett had worked with them at the bar a couple of years ago, and even though he was a little introverted, Cardan had been good friends with him. Still, he’d left to enter the police academy. At least that’s what Cardan last heard. His normally sandy-coloured hair was dyed black, but that irreverent smirk of his was recognizable anywhere.

“What is he doing here?” He asked, mostly to himself.

The cab driver honked, hurrying them.

Just before closing the door, Cardan glanced back to the group. Garrett stared directly at them, taking a long puff from his cigarette. Then the car started. 

Halfway back to the city, he remembered the paper the healer gave him. With a quick movement, he took it out of his pocket and unfolded it. I was a napkin. With a note. 

I wouldn’t normally offer two for one, but since I didn’t get to say goodbye the way I intended, hopefully this allows me to make up for it some other day.                                                       J.

Under it, a cell phone number. Her cell phone number. 

He grinned and without really thinking about it, he took out his phone and send her a short message. Fuck, would that make him seem desperate? Hopefully not. 

Roach and Locke were talking but he didn’t really paid attention. 

It was until he was folding back Jude’s note that he realized there was something printed on the opposite side of it. Something that made his stomach turned to a knot.

He’d memorice that form since he was a little kid. But the Greenbriar’s shield he’d grown to, had a small “B” at the center in honor to his brother Balekin. 

This one though, had a “D” at that same spot. 

Dain’s.

*************************

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE! 

It took me like forever to reorganize my ideas for this au but IT’S BACK BABY!

xx

[missjanjie]

As I Lay Waiting | Goodedoll

this is a commission for @lepakonpaska and im super excited and think this came out quite well :D

Ship: Goodedoll (Gigi Goode x Nicky Doll) Word Count: 1.8k Rating: T

comission info

Nicky prided herself on being a good, supportive friend to Gigi. They had been friends since they met in their junior year of college, and have been inseparable ever since. She was there for her with every one of her passion projects, through every high and low, indulging her impulses or talking sense into her. And it was reciprocal, Gigi was a good friend, too. She was an amazing friend.

That, as far as Nicky was concerned, made the crush she had that much harder to bear. It was both a hindrance and a hope - a hindrance because she would always feel like she had something to hide, and that glimmer of hope that followed her around, saying maybe, just maybe there was a chance for them.

But that hopeful voice became awfully silent when Crystal came into the picture.

Crystal was Gigi’s type - she was funny, weird, unique, and as soon as Gigi set eyes on her, Nicky’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. It was as if it were one of those scenes in a movie where the protagonist sees everything going wrong in slow-motion but they can’t do anything to stop it.

The worst part was that Crystal and Gigi were cute together. They had chemistry, and as much as Nicky wanted to cut her losses and move on with her life, it only made the longing she felt towards her best friend even stronger. Now she had an excuse as to why she couldn’t tell her the truth, though it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I feel like my window of opportunity has closed. I had all this time to make a move and now someone else has swooped in,” Nicky lamented, making a swooping motion with her arm to illustrate her point.

“You make it sound like Crystal stole her from you,” Jaida told her. “The bitch ain’t psychic, she barely knows what’s going on in the present.”

Nicky groaned and lay back on her bed. “I know that, but it makes me feel better to blame her.”

“Of course it does. But that can’t be your solution.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then what is my solution? And please don’t say ‘talk to her’.”

Jaida shrugged. “I got nothing then, sis. Y’all have been friends for three years, you gotta find something.”

“Ah, putain,” Nicky muttered and rolled onto her stomach. It had really been three years of pining over Gigi - no wonder it was hurting so badly.

- Nicky had just finished her shower and changed into her pajamas when she heard a knock at the door. She furrowed her brows - she hadn’t ordered food and mail delivery usually stopped around eight at night. Regardless, she shrugged it off and opened the door. “Gigi?” she blinked in surprise, stepping to the side to let her in.

“Is now a bad time? Sorry, I know I usually call or text first,” Gigi said with a sheepish laugh as she went right into Nicky’s room and sat on the bed.

She frowned, following behind Gigi into her room. “It’s never a bad time for you, angel,” she assured and sat beside her. “Tell me what’s going on,” she prompted, placing her hand on the other girl’s knee.

“I…” Gigi swallowed thickly, “I think I need to break up with Crystal,” her face fell as she admitted that - it was the first time she had said it out loud, and her whole body seemed to deflate as she let herself drop backwards and lay on the bed.

Nicky suddenly became hyper-aware of every muscle in her face, needing to consciously contort each one to erase any sign of relief, god forbid the slightest glimmer of happiness. She pressed her lips together and swallowed before moving to sit cross-legged next to her on the bed. “You do? Why?”

Gigi kicked off her shoes before pushing herself up and sitting on the bed as well, her back against the mountain of pillows Nicky always had neatly arranged on her bed. She took the headband out of her hair, relieving a bit of the physical tension she felt, but not alleviating anything emotionally. “She doesn’t want to be in an exclusive relationship. And I mean, I don’t fault her for it, I know lots of people are non-monogamous. But me… I just don’t know if I can get on board with it,” she explained, her fingers tracing patterns into the duvet.

The conflict of interest for Nicky made it incredibly difficult for her to figure out how to handle this. She wanted to be the supportive friend she always had been for Gigi, but she would be lying if there wasn’t a big part of her that wanted to take the opportunity to get rid of a romantic rival. “You deserve to get what you want out of a relationship, so does Crystal. If you guys cannot see eye to eye on monogamy… I don’t know, maybe you need to think about if it’s worth sticking it out.”

“What if she changes her mind?”

Nicky shook her head and looked down. “Oh Gigi, you can’t change people just because you want a certain life with them,” it pained her to say even more than it pained Gigi to hear. This wasn’t the victory she had been hoping for - it didn’t feel like a victory at all. If anything, it felt like a twisted punishment. Gigi was in reach once again, only now it felt like she had to push her away to prioritize being a friend.

Gigi sighed sadly and rested her head on Nicky’s shoulder. “I guess you’re right. Thanks, Nicky, I knew you’d have the right thing to say.”

“Of course,” she said and gently wrapped her arms around her. “That’s what I’m here for.”

-

It had been a week since Gigi and Crystal broke up, and Nicky had finally gotten past the point of feeling guilty about it. She had spent hours upon hours talking to Jaida - or rather, Jaida put up with her for hours by reassuring her that it wasn’t her fault, that she didn’t intentionally sabotage the relationship.

More than that, Jaida had kept the offer open that Nicky could text her whenever she needed to, and Nicky had taken her up on that a handful of times, especially after hanging out with Gigi.

Being with Gigi had started to feel normal again. Nicky did her best to help Gigi both mourn her ended relationship and move on from it, all while keeping her own feelings bottled away. This wasn’t about her, it wasn’t about her crush. She just had to keep reminding herself to not make Gigi’s relationship about her own feelings.

So, barely ten minutes after Gigi had left her apartment, Nicky got her phone out to text Jaida.

“Gigi just left, and I swear this gets harder every day. I can’t fucking look at her without thinking about how badly I want her. Every time she speaks I’m just reminded of how crazy I am about her. C’est un fucking nightmare, Jaida! But it’s also not, you know? Because it still feels so good to be with her and I never want her to leave. Is this love?”

Nicky set her phone down and went to the kitchen to grab herself a bottle of rosé cider. Upon her return, she opened her phone to her messages and her eyes widened in horror.

Jaida and Gigi were the last two people she had texted, which would explain why when she had haphazardly gone to text Jaida about her romantic woes, the block of text was sent to Gigi herself.

Nicky tossed her phone across her bed in horror, knees curling up under her chin. Maybe if she didn’t touch her phone, nothing would happen. Maybe if she tried hard enough to will away the mistake, she would be able to look at her phone and see that no message had been sent at all.

Then she heard that familiar tri-tone. “Merde.” Nicky watched her phone carefully as she approached it, as if it would explode under her touch. With a deep breath, she picked it up and, of course, the text was from Gigi.

“I don’t think this was meant for me, huh?”

Nicky wanted to scream, and another text came in before she could reply.

“I’m coming back over.”

This time, she did scream, albeit into her pillow. At least she got it out of her system so by the time Gigi came back, she was no longer in the middle of a nervous breakdown. She froze when she heard a knock at the door, and had to force herself up out of bed, fighting with herself all the way over until she opened the door. “Gigi, I’m so sorry, I-”

Gigi cupped Nicky’s face with both hands and kissed her deeply, stepping inside and kicking the door closed behind her in one swift motion.

Nicky, on the other hand, nearly fell backwards with shock, grabbing onto Gigi for support when she nearly lost her balance. As confused as she was, she kissed back - she wasn’t about to pass that up regardless.

“How long have you felt this way? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Gigi breathed out when she let Nicky go.

Nicky blinked, her mouth forgetting how to form words for a moment. “I… guess a few months after we became friends.”

Gigi laughed, grabbed Nicky by the shoulders, then leaned her head against her chest, still a bit out of breath all the while.

“Are you… okay?” Nicky wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hug her, have her lay down, or ask if she could smell toast.

“I just can’t fucking believe it,” Gigi explained when she finally pulled herself together. “Do you know how long I’ve had a crush on you?”

Nicky stared blankly. “Obviously not. What about Crystal?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I really liked her too,” she clarified. “The relationship I had with her was sincere, but if I knew that was how you felt… I don’t know, I probably wouldn’t have pursued her in the first place.”

“I need to sit down,” Nicky laughed dryly, moving to the couch and gesturing for Gigi to follow. “So, what does this mean for us?”

Gigi shrugged. “I mean… we’ve waited long enough, we could give a relationship a try. If you want to, that is.”

Nicky smiled, leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss against her lips. “Of course I want to,” she laughed. That was all she’d wanted from the beginning. Sure, she was kicking herself for waiting this long, all things considered. But she had Gigi now, and that was worth all the wait.

[psycho-slytherin]

Arcade

You’ll do anything to score higher on your test than him.

Based on this prompt for @bunnyface101! Happy birthday <3

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Swearing, lots of anatomy terms, too much dialogue

WC: 2.2k

|mlist| ~ |birthday fics|

“Ugh!”

“What is it this time?” Yeonjun asks as you stomp into the house, slam the door behind you and flop dramatically on the couch.

“Fucking Kim Namjoon again with his bitchass smart mouth. Ugh!”

“This seems to be a weekly thing,” your brother remarks. “You coming in complaining about that guy.”

“I don’t care– I wouldn’t complain so much if he weren’t so hellbent on bothering me! He can just fuck all the way off,” you snarl.

“Aw, did he score better than you on a test again? Is that what happened?”

Your cheeks burn. “Shut up! He didn’t. He cheated.”

“Any proof of that, or…?”

“Who the fuck gets a perfect score on an anatomy exam like that?” You rise and begin to pace, agitated. “There were two hundred terms to memorize– I’ve studied for hours every night for weeks and he barely studied at all. And you know what, Yeonjun? After all that, I ran out of time and only got a stupid fucking 98%.”

“Woah, congrats!”

“–And not only did he get a perfect score, he decided to rub it in my face.”

“Literally?”

“What? No. He looked at my paper and he was all like, ‘Aw, that’s cute.’ And then he really went and invited his friends to the arcade! I don’t even have time to go to the arcade ‘cause I’m too busy studying! He called my score cute, goddammit!”

“Have you talked to the teacher about him? That does seem pretty mean.”

You sigh, scooping your textbook off the coffee table. “Don’t get me wrong– I’d love to get him in trouble, but he’s gonna make fun of me for being a teachers’ pet if I report it. I need to score better than him; it’s the only way I can shut him up.”

“Well isn’t that very High School Musical of you. Be my guest,” Yeonjun yawns. “Have fun not having a life.”

“I will,” you harrumph, stalking to your room. You’re going to outscore Kim Namjoon, no matter what.

~~~One Week Later~~~

“Cribriform plate houses olfactory nerves…” you mutter, flipping through your flashcards as you pace the living room. “Nasal bones consist of the vomer, inferior nasal conchae, and perpendicular plate of the ethmoid. The styloid process articulates with the ligaments that hold the hyoid bone. The foramen magnum articulates with the atlas, or C-1.”

“English, please?” Yeonjun says, raising a brow.

“In other words… I’m going to get a perfect score on next week’s test,” you inform him smugly, before getting back to your notes. “The sutures are coronal, squamosal, lambdoidal, and sagittal. There are seven cervical vertebrae, twelve thoracic, and five lumbar. The sacrum–”

“Okay! Enough already!” Yeonjun claps his hands. “Y/n, you’ve been like this for days. I think maybe you should take a breath and sit down.”

“I didn’t allocate time in my schedule for that,” you huff.

“No more scheduling, y/n. You’re driving me crazy!”

“I need to beat Namjoon’s score, okay?”

“Then maybe follow his lead and take a break.”

You pause. “What?”

“He’s scoring better than you because his mind has a chance to rest, y/n. Now, go to the arcade– and don’t bring your flashcards.”

“But… but…”

Yeonjun sighs and pulls you, still sputtering, to the car. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Ten minutes later, you’re at an arcade. You’ve never actually been to one before– you’ve only read about them. Your big brother gives you fifty dollars, instructs you to have fun, and then leaves. You’re alone.

But what do you do now? Well, for one, you can access your study guide on your phone. You find a seat in a corner next to an ancient Pac-Man machine and begin rereading your notes.

“The sacrum is made up of three to five vertebrae,” you mutter to yourself, closing your eyes. “The six bones that make up the orbits are the maxilla, ethmoid, sphenoid, frontal, and... uh...” Shit, what are the last two? Your pride won’t let you check your notes– you have to know them. “Um...”

“Lacrimal and zygomatic.” The voice sends dread to the pit of your stomach.

“Gah!” you scramble to your feet and glare at– who else?– Kim Namjoon.

“What do you want?” you ask, glaring at him.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I want to play Pac-Man and not have to listen to some poor girl flounder her way through the axial skeleton.”

“I wasn’t floundering,” you huff. “You caught me at a bad time!”

“Any time seems to be a bad time for you,” Namjoon replies icily. “What are you even doing here?”

“I...wanted to come,” you mutter, avoiding his eyes.

Namjoon snorts. “Yeah, right. That’s why you’re holed up like a nerdy fuckin’ hobbit. And, just to drive the point home, you’re studying.”

“Well, what else am I gonna do?” you hiss. “It’s not like I know how to play any of these dumb games that you’re so obsessed with!”

Running a hand through his hair, Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know how to play Pac-Man?”

“No, sorry– I’ve been spending my time productively, unlike someone.” Can you go away now, is what you want to say, but then he’ll bother you more and ugh.

One thing’s for sure: You’re going to tear Yeonjun a new one when you get home.

Namjoon leans back. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Get up. I’m gonna teach you how to play Pac-Man.”

You laugh. “Very funny.”

“I’m totally serious.”

“Why would you do that? Are you trying to keep me from studying?” Your eyes narrow. “Trying to sabotage me?”

“If I wanted to sabotage you, I’d just leave you to your own devices,” Namjoon says lightly. “I’m trying to help you– I’ve got nothing better to do, and it really is pathetic watching you struggle. Besides, why would I sabotage you? I’m still beating you in anatomy.”

Yeonjun’s words come to mind: “He’s  scoring better than you because his mind has a chance to rest, y/n.”

You flip Namjoon off before getting up and dusting yourself off. “Fine.” If this is what it takes to beat him during your next exam, then you’ll do it. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s an easy game– you just have to think fast, and work out a strategy ahead of time. First, where are your game tokens?”

“Uh... what?”

Namjoon sighs. “Do you have any money?” He asks slowly, as though speaking to a child.

“Yeah, a fifty.”

Your rival’s eyebrows raise. “You planning on spending the whole weekend here?”

“I was planning on going home to study,” you retort.

“Whatever. Go exchange the money for game tokens. After Pac-Man you should play the racing game– I have a feeling you’ll love it.”

You sniff at his bemused tone before following his direction to a token machine. The clinking sound of dozens of coins falling is music to your ears as you feed the machine your bills, and you don’t know why, but you suddenly feel energetic.

Namjoon snickers as you return with your pockets heavy with tokens. “Admit it, this is more fun than studying.”

“We’ll see about that.” You’re only doing this to glean his perfect-score secrets anyways.

“Now watch.” Namjoon feeds tokens to the machine and the screen lights up with little dots and retro beeping music.

“Aww, a ghost!” You lean in as Namjoon navigates his little yellow circle guy around the labyrinth. “Look, there’s more! Can you pet them?”

“They’re trying to kill me, y/n.”

You droop. “Oh.”

“But now...” You watch as Pac-Man gobbles a large dot and the ghosts begin flashing blue. “Now I kill them.”

“How do you win?”

“Imagine each of those little dots is a question on an exam– and eating them is getting them right.”

You laugh. “So eat them all– I get the idea.”

“Yes!” Namjoon thrusts a fist in the air when he completes the level. “C’mon, now you.”

“What?” You shrink back.

“It’s just like taking a test, y/n.”

“No it’s not! I haven’t studied!”

“Hey,” Namjoon catches your eye. “Some things are just instinct.”

Something in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Okay...” cautiously you reach for the joystick as the next level begins.

You navigate rapidly, guiding Pac-Man across the screen. “They’re moving too quickly!” you yelp as you narrowly avoid the red ghost.

“So think ahead– what’s the most efficient route you can take?”

“Uh... that one!”

“Well, don’t just tell me. Go for it!”

You move to direct Pac-Man down a path filled with little dots but before you can, that fucking red ghost gets too close and...

Game Over.

“Fuck!” you slam your fist against the machine before recoiling in pain. “Ow!”

“Can I ask you something?” Namjoon says, and you turn around to glare at him suspiciously.

“What?”

“Did you run out of time on our last anatomy test?”

You flinch. “No.” Yes.

Namjoon chuckles. “You’re a bad liar. C’mon, that racing game is calling your name.”

You follow him across the loud arcade– it’s colorful, brightly lit, and filled with people that look several years younger than you.

“Do you come here often?” You ask once you join him beside two motorcycle-looking seats in front of a screen.

“You know that sounds like a pick-up line, right?”

“Huh? No! I just... I didn’t...”

Namjoon laughs. “Relax, nerd. I’m teasing.”

“Are you physically capable of doing anything else?” You reply, cheeks burning.

“Hmm...” he pretends to think. “Does beating you in anatomy count?”

You’re going to strangle him.

“Now come on, get on.” Namjoon gestures at one seat before sliding onto the other and feeding four coins into the slot.

“Good thing I didn’t wear a skirt today,” you murmur to yourself as you settle onto your “motorcycle”.

“Don’t worry, y/n,” Namjoon says. “No one would look at you anyways.”

You turn so quickly you almost get whiplash. “What did you say, asshole?”

“I said, watch the screen.” You turn and see several options for customizing your motorbike. Should you go for speed, agility, or durability?

Well, speed means nothing if you can’t even turn a corner. Your choices prioritize agility and before long the screen displays a scantily-clad woman holding a flag and counting down. Namjoon revs his bike.

“Wait a sec, how do I win?” you ask.

“Just go!” Your rival’s bike zooms ahead of yours and you sigh– if this were real, he’d be dead already. You follow his lead and twist the acceleration, careful to accurately make hairpin turns and gravity-defying jumps. Namjoon crashes several times but makes up for it with his speed, and soon the two of you are neck and neck.

Just a little more... you have to beat him... just a little more...

Suddenly you come across a fork in the path and you slow down a bit to decide which way is best. Namjoon forgoes a decision entirely and crashes right through the middle, using his speed to propel him through whatever the green pixels were supposed to be.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it!” you protest as you take the left fork.

“Whatever you say, y/n. But I’m winning. Aaaaand... I’ve won.”

He has, and you cruise to a digital stop mere seconds after him.

“You absolute fuckwad!” You cry, fuming as you stomp over to him. “You cheated, you bitchass motherfucking son of a–”

“Child.”

“What?”

“There is a child behind you,” Namjoon says. “And he’s staring.”

You turn around and notice that there is indeed a child staring at you, his mouth hanging open.

“Great. Aaaand I’m leaving.” What are you doing? You’re done being humiliated– you’re considering fighting Yeonjun to the death, and if you don’t ace your exam it’s going to be his and Namjoon’s heads on the line.

Your brother was wrong. Taking a break hasn’t done anything except stress you out. “Keep the rest of the tokens, Namjoon. I won’t be needing them.” Sure, it was fun and exhilarating, but what a waste of time. It was all to sabotage you, you just know it.

“Wait– wait! y/n!”

You roll your eyes. “What? Gonna call me dumb? Pathetic? Do my clothes look weird? Is there something on my face? I don’t care, Namjoon, just stay the fuck away from me.”

“I...” Namjoon stops. “I was gonna say good luck. On the test.”

“Oh. Wait, what? Why are you wishing me luck?”

He smiles. “Trust your instincts a bit more, y/n. It’ll give you an edge on the multiple-choice questions. And, uh... I’m glad I saw you here. It was cool.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. Oh, no. No. No no no no. You are not catching feelings for Kim Namjoon. Literally anyone else but him–

“Do you want to study together?” you blurt out thoughtlessly before slapping a hand over your mouth.

Namjoon blinks slowly. “Huh?”

“I mean, I just meant, you’re the top scorer in the class, and it’s not like I need your help given that I’m proficient enough on my own but there’s always room for improvement right?” you explain in one breath.

“Right,” Namjoon says. “Always room for improvement. Yeah, good idea. I’ll, uh, text you?”

“You don’t have my number,” you say.

“Maybe you could fix that,” Namjoon replies with an uncharacteristic softness before you exchange numbers.

“I’ll see you around, Namjoon?”

“Yeah, see you around.”

“I still hate you though.”

“And I’m still beating you in anatomy.”

[templeofgeek]

*This post is mostly spoiler-free. 

Director Elizabeth Banks has created a funny and action-packed good time at the movie theaters! The next generation of Charlie’s Angels is a continuation of the stories told on television in the 1970s and the former films from the early 2000s. The film debuted worldwide on November 15th, 2019. Stars Kristen Stewart, Naomi Scott, and Ella Balinska are working for the mysterious Charles Townsend, whose security and investigative agency has expanded internationally. With the world’s smartest, bravest, and most highly trained women all over the globe, there are now teams of Angels guided by multiple Bosleys taking on the toughest jobs everywhere.

Elizabeth Banks addresses Charlie’s Angel ‘flop’

Elizabeth Banks addresses Charlie’s Angel ‘flop’ in a tweet. The 2000 Charlie’s Angel film starring Drew Barrymore, made $264.1 million USD over its entire run in the box office, in comparison, the current film debuted to $8.6 million in North America and $19.2 million overseas. Making it an unlikely long term success in the box office. Elizabeth Banks who starred, directed, produced and is responsible for the screenplay addresses this in a tweet saying “Well if you’re going to have a flop, make sure your name is on it at least 4x. I’m proud of #CharliesAngels and happy it’s in the world.”

https://twitter.com/ElizabethBanks/status/1196486758503833600

I truly believe that the lack of proper advertising for this movie is what caused the low box office numbers, not the quality of this movie. The movie was advertised in a way to make us believe that it was a reboot. In reality, it was a continuation story. I understand the reboot fatigue may have kept many viewers at home. I think they may have had a lot more luck marketing this as a “Charlie’s Angel for every generation” type of story. Which is exactly what the movie is. It is a beautiful new story as well as a well-crafted nod to all the Angels that came before them.

Elizabeth Banks directing Charlie’s’ Angels. Photo by Chiabella James

This is the kind of movie that you need to take your daughters, your nieces, your girlfriends, and your mom. And honestly, you need to take your boys and nonbinary friends as well. Because it’s a fun action movie with a ton of funny scenes and a great story. Everyone likes that. It’s also pretty empowering! This is a time when women want to feel empowered! This was the perfect time for a new Charlie’s Angel movie! This is why it’s so frustrating that it isn’t getting the love it deserves.

Why you should watch this movie! 

Action 

This movie gets a little fast and furious in the beginning, which is a lot of fun! Ella Balinska and Kristen Stewart definitely steal the show when it comes to all the action scenes. They are non-stop with kicking people’s ass. What I really appreciate about these action scenes is that they are not played down. Some are gritty and anxiety-inducing. If it wasn’t for the comedy and fashion in the film, then it would feel like a Jason Bourne movie. Very intense scenes.

Kristen Stewart in Charlie’s Angels.

Although Naomi Scott’s character is being protected by the Angels, she still gets in on the action with her own little clumsy and hilarious fight scene. Ella Balinska is a fresh face in Hollywood. Balinska kills it with her fantastic and fun portrayal of a former MI6 agent who now uses her skills as one of Charlie’s Angels.  She was so good that it begs the question: “Why isn’t she in EVERYTHING and on the cover of EVERYTHING?” Know her name! She deserves a lot more on-screen time. Kristen Stewart also play’s one of Charlie’s Angels and she does not disappoint. She is a combination of quirky, sexy and dangerous. Her greatest strength comes from overcoming her past and using that to do good.

Ella Balinska as Jane in Charlie’s Angels.

Funny

As I said earlier, this movie is funny. It’s purposely cheesy in the best ways.  One scene, in particular, involving Sir Patrick Stewart and a closet had me laughing out loud. The comedy flows naturally and is well-timed. I would expect no less coming from Elizabeth Banks! I smiled the entire time I was watching this! Other notably hilarious moments include an impromptu song from Naomi Scott, a game of chase in a laboratory, and the interactions between Noah Centineo and Ella Balinska. Honestly, I didn’t realize Kristen Stewart was so funny. Her character is so quirky and fun! Although Naomi Scoot is more adorable and sweet than funny, she gives us a few funny scenes as well.

Noah Centineo as Langston and Ella Balinska as Jane in Charlie’s Angels.

Sisterhood

There are way too many stories with women being pit against one another, portrayed as jealous and petty rivals. In this film, you don’t see that. You see women who build one another up and empower each other. Can you imagine a real-life network of powerful and strong women supporting one another in hopes of saving the world? We need more of that in the world and more of that being shown on screen. Young girls need to see intelligent women all over the screen. Women are very often portrayed in a way where there can only be one smart and beautiful woman per film and any other is considered a rival. But in this film, there is an entire network of amazing women who are showcased! All of them are there to support one another. They are not trying to rival one another.

The Relationships

This movie focuses a lot on relationships. Not the romantic type, although there is a tiny itsy bit of that, but it mainly focuses on the relationships between the main cast. This movie deals with trust, loyalty, accountability to your peers and the motivation to do good. The relationship the Angels have with their mentors, as well as the relationships they have to each other, are deeply rooted in sisterhood and brotherhood. These are characters who really care about one another and the world around them. Even the motives of some of the villains in the film comes from a place of hurt and betrayal and not just an evil calling.

Sir Patrick Stewart and Elizabeth Banks

Technology, Science & Well Being 

Science and technology play a major role in a lot of superhero and action movies. There’s no super smart but socially awkward stereotype of a person here. This movie portrays plenty of well-rounded individuals who are all intelligent, strong, who actively take care of their mental health and who look amazing doing it. We need to see this type of representation more often. Girls and women have been underrepresented on screen in roles like these. It’s exciting to see so many in one film.

Noah Centineo as Langston and Ella Balinska as Jane in Charlie’s Angels.

Ella Balinska, Kristen Stewart and Luis Gerardo Mendez star in CHARLIE’S ANGELS.

Naomi Scott stars in Charlie’s Angels.

Fashion 

Not going to lie, the outfits on Charlie’s Angels are dreamy! I would happily take any of the Angel’s wardrobe. Charlie’s Angels have been fashion icons since the 1970s. It was part of the appeal. These badass women are sporting the coolest looks while saving the world! I love it. I spent a ton of time daydreaming about the sunglasses from this movie. Even the extras have amazing outfits. I love fashion, and I appreciate good fashion. That is reason alone for me to see this movie. It’s easily a documentary on how to pull together amazing looks. One of my favorite things about the wardrobe scene is the moment that you see outfits worn by the Angel’s in the previous movies as well as outfits from the 1970s television show. Such a warm touching nod to the former incarnations.

Elizabeth Banks directs and stars in Charlie’s Angels

Naomi Scott stars in Charlie’s Angels

Ella Balinska and Kristen Stewart star in Charle’s Angels.

It’s a good time at the movies! Go see it! But if you need one final reason, it’s empowering! For everyone! Great characters, great cast, great costumes, lots of action. I can’t love it enough. It’s a fun date movie, and it’s a fun night out! Take your young people! Take your parents! It’s worth it.

What fans are saying:

This movie was not going to win an Oscar, and it never set out to, but it has definitely won plenty of hearts. See what fans are saying in the reactions below.

https://twitter.com/MytchelChandler/status/1196848640058245121

https://twitter.com/JasonW576/status/1196848379663392768

https://twitter.com/return_to_hades/status/1196847582657597441

      Edited by Maddie Morrow

All the Reasons You Should Go Watch Elizabeth Banks' #CharliesAngels *This post is mostly spoiler-free.  Director Elizabeth Banks has created a funny and action-packed good time at the movie theaters!

[jonesaf]

more soccer AU positions

(lowkey cont. from this)

America: Forward. For much the same reason as Denmark is a forward tbh. He’s a rookie playing his first season in a top-tier league, a total goober off the field, but don’t be fooled by his boyish grin --- this boy is ambitious as hell. When he’s out on the pitch, he’s surprisingly tactful and utterly merciless; he doesn’t care if they’re up 5-0, he’s gonna keep going for goal. He’s kind of a jerk on the field honestly; he’s young and his emotions get the better of him at times, and just like Den, he wants every single goal, but his style isn’t as aggressive as Denmark’s overall: his fouls are usually tactical and he’s mostly just making himself a nuisance for the opposing team --- particularly by nutmegging other players, one of his absolute favorite things to do. (It gets him in trouble. A lot.) His platforms of choice are Snapchat and Instagram, 80% of which are selfies, but also gets surprisingly political over on Twitter. He likes to hang out with kids at the park or the academy, and young fans at the stadium too, because he was one of them not too long ago and he really wants soccer to get bigger in the U.S. Much like Denmark, you either love him or hate him, there’s no in-between with this kid.

Canada: Defender (winger) Alfred’s twin brother. It’s something commentators love to talk about, because he plays in Canada, which also competes in MLS --- and I’m gonna namedrop Toronto FC here because I feel like the atmosphere suits him better than Montreal or Vancouver --- which means that the two of them are always pitted against each other, at least outside of the national team. It’s the trend we’re all familiar with: Matthew is the quieter one, keeps to himself, doesn’t do as many interviews, and isn’t a striker, so 8 times out of 10 when people are talking about him, it’s in comparison with his brother. He’s used to it, though it’s not entirely fair; Matthew is just as intense on the field as he is mild off of it, he’s just as fast as Alfred (and they are fast, holy jesus), just as skilled with the ball, and it doesn’t take long before he’s a regular in the starting lineup. This boy will shut you down. He’s the player you don’t really know anything about, but you always want him on the field, ‘cause nobody can get past this kid.

England: Coach. Previously an attacking midfielder in his playing days; all the good parts of maintaining a solid midfield, with the added bonus of scoring goals. Still young enough that Alfred and Matthew remember watching him play whenever English football was on TV, but retired due to problems with injuries; he had a rather hot-headed style of play back then that led to a lot of collisions and fouls. Tends to be hard on his players. Sometimes a little too hard --- nitpicky, one could even say, communication isn’t always his best skill --- but it’s all in the name of good football, you see. He’s not disappointed in you because you suck, he’s disappointed because what you’re doing sucks, and he knows you can be better, so what on earth was that performance? Known for getting, uh. Passionate, shall we say, on the sidelines. Probably coaching Alfred’s team. Also probably grooming Alfred to be captain one day. Maybe also putting a little too much pressure on him as a result...they’ll probably be fine...

France: Retired forward. To quote F. Scott Fitzgerald, “One of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savors of anti-climax.” Was a star for a hot minute in his day, and probably played for a club that likes to collect star players like Paris Saint-Germain. His career came to a head somewhat early with France’s 1998 World Cup win --- that, combined with the seasons right before and after, was his best run, and something he’s still incredibly proud of. Retired early, perhaps due to injury or because he wasn’t enjoying it enough anymore, and is now in some completely unrelated industry like teaching culinary arts for kids. Still an avid football fan, however, and probably the owner of a club somewhere. A bit of a strange man, very French, but you can’t help but like him. He’s so charming... Small aside: Could perhaps be Alfred and Matthew’s weird uncle. Definitely something going on between him and Arthur. Friends? Rivals? Secret lovers? All of the above? Rumors and theories abound, but nothing has been proven.

Germany: Defender (center-back, vice-captain). This man takes “defending champions of the world” very seriously. Ludwig Beilschmidt is a one-man wall. He’s still young, close to Alfred’s age, but he’s been playing football since he was old enough to kick a ball, and he’s on his way to being one of the best defenders to come out of Germany. Would make a great goalkeeper too, and actually started out as one in his youth, but he wants to be in on the action and influencing the game. Very good at reading the situation. Also very precise, great for corner kicks, intercepting the ball, and long passes. His ambition and hard work mostly serve him well, although he does have a tendency to stress about his performance and dwell way too much on mistakes, which can trip him up and cause a cycle of frustration. It’s just really important to him. Dude is intense. Which is funny, because he’s actually pretty sweet IRL; stern-faced and awkward, but well-meaning. Isn’t on social media much, but his instagram is almost exclusively pictures and videos of his cat and dogs. He’s either a blessing or a curse, depending on which team you’re rooting for.

BONUS

Prussia: Retired defender (left-back, captain). Battled with some chronic health problems before a career-ending injury finally forced him to quit early, but still embedded in the industry somehow; coaching or working with an academy would probably suit him. He’s just as intense as his baby brother (whose praises he will sing at every opportunity as long as Ludwig’s not within earshot; despite his teasing, he’s very proud), but he’s an awesome good mentor and has a deep respect for the sport. Keeping his eye on the growing American soccer market... Small aside: a big fan of the German club Eintracht Frankfurt. There’s just something about that white&black + eagle combination that really...speaks to him...plus, how much more awesome can you get than having an actual, real live eagle as a mascot? Named Attila?! Only if Gilbert himself were playing for them could they ever be more awesome than that.

Japan: Dude is one of the best FIFA19 players you’ve ever seen. Ever. Has a degree in web design or programming, but he’s made his career out of being really damn good at FIFA. Practically an eSports legend. You think eSports is dumb? You think it’s just a video game? Just watch this guy.

China: He’s been here so long he’s played pretty much every position, and he’s not going anywhere any time soon. He’s that player who seems to have been around since the dawn of time, and yet somehow hasn’t aged a day since he turned 30. Probably immortal. May, in fact, never retire, but if he did, he’d still be breaking records for longest coaching career in the history of football.

Mexico: One of the voices urging her country to put more into women’s soccer. Although soccer is incredibly popular in South America, it’s also incredibly male-dominated; women’s soccer teams are largely amateur, and the women’s national team relies heavily on Mexican diaspora in other countries like the USA. It’s so important to her to be nothing less than absolutely outstanding, and boy oh boy, she is. I’m not sure what position she’d play, but I get the feeling she’d be very versatile on the field no matter what. This girl is out there working her ass off every single day.

[theolddarkmachine]

Four Years- Sophomore Year

Settling back into the careful composure of his well worn scowl, Keith lifts his glass in Shiro’s direction.

“I’ll stick with Shirogane, then, thanks,” he says brusquely as he raises the glass to his lips in an attempt to hide behind another swig of beer that he forgets isn’t there until he sees the flash of Shiro’s eyes as they meet his gaze through the emptied bottom of his glass.

Heat sparks in his chest, sending a flare racing up his neck and across the rise of his cheeks at the sound of Shiro’s husking laugh as, in a show of dominance, he tossed back the rest of his own drink.

“Looks like we’re ready for something stronger.”

Part 2 of 5

AO3

Warnings: None for now aside from underage drinking and ridiculous flirting, because this is a slowburn and that’s just how it goes. Will earn an E rating eventually. and by eventually i mean in the next chapter :3c

A/N: Originally I wanted to add lyrics at the start of each chapter from songs I felt encapsulated the feel for the chapter. But then I just couldn’t bring myself to add lyrics from Tupthumping and format them like poetry, but I tried to work that in another way instead. Enjoy.

********************

There were a great many thing things that Keith Kogane had learned by his second year of college. The first, is that being in a fraternity wasn’t actually that bad.

Not that he’d ever admit to Hunk that he was right.

Again.

But it had gotten him out of the hellhole known as dorm living and had even given him and Hunk a usable kitchen that didn’t carry the high risk of tetanus. It had even come with a fridge that was almost always stocked as long as Hunk promised an endless supply of his “Beta Famous Bear Claws.”

Really, everyone won in the end.

The second, is that he was disturbingly good at drinking games. So good, in fact, that he’d earned the title of The Anchor and had been the Beta’s not-so-secret weapon in every drinking competition that they found themselves in.

His only true match, was known as The Champion.

Or rather, Shiro.

Though, how the Alphas decided he should be called that was beyond him when he currently sat with one more win under his belt.

And the only reason Shiro had managed to pull his most recent win from him, was because he’d used his dimple against him.

Keith still maintains that it was an illegal play.

The third, is that fate is a dick.

A dick that had paraded itself into his life in the form of one Professor Slav. A dick that had forced them into a group essay together that totaled half of their overall semester grade.

A dick that had landed him in a slightly sticky booth across from Shiro with two drinks between them and not even the excuse of any games.

We should celebrate, Shiro had said as soon as they’d dropped their fluid mechanics essay off at Slav’s office.

Yeah, that’d be cool, Keith had said, as if the mere mention hadn’t sent his heart crashing into the roof of his mouth along with the acrid taste of bile. It’s an exaggerated reaction, he knows. One that isn’t really warranted given his otherwise calm and cool demeanor towards his classmate and frat rival.

Which brings Keith to the fourth, and final thing he’s learned. It was a revelation that he kept wrapped in all its bits of ominous cashmere, folded and tucked safely between the space of his third and fourth ribs where even he couldn’t touch it.

Because touching it was dangerous.

Acknowledging the softness that lined his insides would be sticking his hand within the garbage disposal of his emotions that would surely cut him to bits and leave him bleeding out on the floor.

Acknowledging it would mean admitting what he had known that exact moment he’d walked into that calculus class his freshman year.

That he’s completely gone for Shiro.

And not in the perfectly acceptable way that could have been rectified by a drunken night and bad decisions. In the a way that left his heart a pale imitation of Atlas holding up the weight of Shiro’s smile.

A smile that is burning a hole through his sternum as he watches the Alpha grab his beer and raise it in salute.

“To surviving Slav,” he says, sliding the words through his grin as he lowers his gaze to Keith’s pint before snapping it back up to his face. Deep within the silver there, he sees the fire of a challenge that stokes the flames within his own chest as he closes his fist around the cool glass and lifts it.

“And to being dumb enough to want to stay in aerospace engineering,” Keith replies before draining half of his beer if only for the excuse of looking away from the blinding glow of Shiro’s look.

“Who’d have thought that we would actually work well together,” Shiro hums thoughtfully as  Keith resurfaces, looking him over as he wipes a lazy line along the condensation thats gathered along his own glass.

“Did we?” He asks dumbly, eyeing what’s left and calculating if he could finish it off in one more go.

The answer? Yes, yes he could.

The real question is, should he?

“I think so,” Shiro says easily, his dimple working its way further into the corner of his mouth as he watches Keith, some secret enjoyment turning his gaze bright. If Keith didn’t know better, he’d think that Shiro knows exactly what he’s thinking.

The very thought paints his cheeks red as he scoffs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

“That makes one of us.”

Regret hits him almost immediately as something a lot like hurt turns Shiro’s gaze downcast, pushing an awkward silence along their booth that’s painfully pointed. If he were being honest, they really had worked well together, but that isn’t really the point, is it?

No matter how well they may have worked together, it didn’t change the fact that Shiro is off limits, painted with a big fat X.

Swallowing down his apology, Keith cuts his gaze to the other bar patrons, mentally cataloguing each face that turns their way. He’ll never hear the end of it if any of the Betas catch him sharing drinks with Public Enemy No. 1.

Sighing loudly, Keith slumps further into the booth, turning his attention back to Shiro only to be met by his unwavering stare.

It’s the kind of stare that carries confidence and nonchalance, as if Shiro doesn’t care who saw them there. Though, now that Keith thinks about it, he supposes that only makes sense.

Sal’s was, for all intents and purposes, sacred ground where all rivalries were checked at the door since it was the one bar in town that didn’t look too closely at IDs. As long as no one made things difficult, they could overlook the differences in the laminated photos. 

That very rule made it the kind of place where even the most vehement of enemies would be able to share a drink side-by-side.

Of course, it was also the kind of place where drunken students would input the same song in the jukebox to play for an hour straight. 

At first, it had been funny. Now, it feels like an ill omen.

The song, a drinking tune made popular thanks to the 90s, kicked in once more as it listed off an obscenely long list of drinks. Keith is pretty sure that if anyone drank all of those, they’d be knocked down and definitely wouldn’t be getting back up again.

Granted, staring down the barrel of Shiro’s gunmetal eyes, he thinks he might just give it a try.

“So tell me about yourself,” Shiro’s voice is a burning ember stoked within the crashing roar of the bar patrons around them as he leans forward, gaze filled with intent as he breaks the awkward silence of their booth. It makes Keith’s heart flip a perfect 10 from the judges within his chest as he opts to throw back the last of his beer if only to buy himself a bit more time.

The smooth IPA washed down his minor panic, leaving nothing but feigned confidence in its wake as he emerged from behind the emptied glass.

“I’m not sure what else you want to know, Shirogane,” he says just as smoothly, leveling him with a careful arch of his brow as he settling back into the booth as he raised a finger with each point he made.

“I’m a Beta, I clearly like the pain of this major, and I’m the one that kicks your ass every weekend in beer pong. What more do you want to know?”

Deep lines crinkle the edges of Shiro’s almond eyes as he pulls his forearm up to rest his chin on his open palm. It makes him look younger, almost wistful.

“Shiro,” he answers, tucking his grin behind a careful sip of his beer.

“What?” Keith’s voice is a flatline as loses his train of thought to the slow drag of Shiro’s tongue along the slick liquid that coated his top lip.

“My friends call me Shiro,” the Alpha bites out, turning his smile predatory as his eyes glow with the dumbly breathless nature of Keith’s voice. Friends, was not the right word at all.

Friends, held a connotation that he never wanted a part in.

Friends, was something he wouldn’t have even wanted to be even if they hadn’t landed themselves in rival fraternities that pitted them against each other every weekend.

What Keith wanted, was something a lot stronger. He wants late nights, secret smiles and names gasped into the darkness of night.

What he wants, are early mornings, soft sunlight with softer kisses and his eggs over easy.

That, however, is a secret that he would take with him right to his grave, because Keith was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a traitor. No matter how enticing Shiro’s crescent smile and starlit eyes are.

Settling back into the careful composure of his well worn scowl, Keith lifts his glass in Shiro’s direction.

“I’ll stick with Shirogane, then, thanks,” he says brusquely as he raises the glass to his lips in an attempt to hide behind another swig of beer that he forgets isn’t there until he sees the flash of Shiro’s eyes as they meet his gaze through the emptied bottom of his glass.

Heat sparks in his chest, sending a flare racing up his neck and across the rise of his cheeks at the sound of Shiro’s husking laugh as, in a show of dominance, he tossed back the rest of his own drink.

“Looks like we’re ready for something stronger.”

The words, accompanied with a wink, carry Shiro away as Keith opened his mouth around a silent protest just seconds too late. A dryness fills his throat as he watches his classmate push through the crowd, ignoring the lingering eyes as he passes until he reached the bar.

From here, Keith gets a front row seat to the snug fit of his jeans, and the way his navy henley pulls across his shoulders, the fabric set just this side of too tight in a way that would make him go weak in the knees if he was standing.

Good thing he wasn’t.

Even from behind, Keith can see the confidence that holds Shiro’s head high as he starts to speak with the bartender. He can imagine the easy smile that would work itself high in the full of his lips, drawing his cupid bow taut and deepening that damned dimple. Something dark curled itself low in his gut as he watched the bartender toss back his head with a laugh, the sound of it snatched away by the sound of Chumbawumba calling out for one Danny Boy. Light flashes off his glasses as he returns his gaze to Shiro, his own mouth split wide as he reaches beneath the bar.

Keith shaking his head as he watches, shaking the blackened thoughts from his head as he turns away, biting down on his lip until he tastes the sharp tang of blood. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the tart taste on the back of his tongue was jealousy.

Good thing he did.

A tray of shots materializes in front of him, their contents sloshing over their sides as they’re dropped unceremoniously with a clatter on the table before him, causing him to jump as Shiro pushes himself back into his side of the booth.

“Are you up for a game?” Shiro asks, the silver of his eyes muted with a dark challenge as he licks across a sharpened canine. It’s a feral move that cracks that pesky space between Keith’s ribs wide with the brambles of sticky, sharp desire. It buries itself deep into his bones, forcing the gaps further and further apart until he isn’t sure he’d be able to keep breathing.

Crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to hold it together, Keith tilts his chin high in defiance.

“I’m always up for kicking your ass, Shirogane,” he growls, pushing the words through his gritted teeth. A storm cloud rumbles across Shiro’s face as a hungry shadow turned it hard in a fleeting moment that makes Keith’s heart race. 

The air thickens between them, catching with the same static that fills the air before a tempest as they hold each others gazes over the tray of sharp smelling alcohol.

It would be something of a perfect moment if only Keith could hear something other than that damned song starting over yet again.

“What’re the rules?” He breathes, shattering the moment as Shiro shakes his head briefly, his gaze returning to their teasing shine as he reaches for the glasses between them.

“Simple,” he says with a shrug as he divvies up the shots until there are an equal amount on either side of the table. Six a piece.

Keith’s stomach turns.  

“I ask a question, if you don’t want to answer, you drink. You ask a question, if I don’t want to answer, I drink.”

It’s said easily, as if it the statement isn’t filled with all the makings of a trap. Shiro was handing Keith the opportunity to make this last as long— or as short— as possible. All he needs to do, is leave all his questions unanswered.

Six shots weren’t that many in the grand scheme of things, after all.

Keith’s certain he’s done more than that before.

Granted, that night had ended in a promise that he’d never drink again.

But hey. He never said he was perfect.

“Easy enough,” he agrees against the better judgement that screamed at him in the form of a strangely Hunk shaped angel on his shoulder. Smiling all teeth, he grabs one of the shot glasses and gathers it between his palms.

He takes a vodka drink, indeed.

“I’m glad we can agree.” A small shiver dances it way down the grooves of his spine as he watched Shiro’s hand fold around his own. “And in a show of good faith, I’ll let you go first.”

Violet catches steel as they eye each other. Lightning gathers along Keith’s skin as he hums lowly in faux thought as he thumbs the lip of his shot glass.

“Why aerospace engineering?” He asks finally, reveling in the way Shiro’s eyes widen at the tameness of the question. It’s a throwaway question meant to test the waters of Shiro’s intent, and Keith is sure he’s found it in the moments of silence that pass before he pulls himself back together to offer a low chuckle as he let’s his head hang with it.

“Would you believe me if I said I just love space?” Shiro asks, open and honest before him, coloring his tone a shimmery shade with a hidden plea to leave it at that. It flushes his system with curiosity as he let’s his eyes openly roam over the Alpha as if he could pull the truth from within his mind before shrugging noncommittally.

“Don’t see why I wouldn’t.” And though he tries to play it off coolly, Keith realizes that he means it. Through the weekly competitions and their short time as essay partners, Shiro had never given him any reason to question his sincerity. It was most of the reason why his heart always seemed to batter itself against the inside of his chest whenever he was near.

Shiro’s fingers rolled the shot glass back and forth within his grasp before he spoke.

“What about you?”

Keith’s reaction is instinctual as his hand twitches around the slick glass. He knows that he should throw it down for the sake of being one shot down and a bit closer to freedom. That would be the smart thing to do.

But there’s a heat pooling in his stomach and licking the inside of his veins and he wants. He wants so badly, that he’s sure he’s going to burn with it.

More importantly, he’s sure he’d enjoy it.

“I want to be free.” The words leave his lips before he can pick them apart. They carry a weight that hangs between them as Shiro nods in understanding that stokes the flames charring his insides.

“There’s something about the idea of making it up there that sounds like the best kind of escape.”

Pausing, he drags his gaze up from the clear liquid in his glass, filling his smile with wickedness  as he winks.

“And I just love space.” It earns him a bright laugh that dances over him as Shiro raises his shot toward him.

“Touché.”

“Why’d you choose the Alphas?” Keith throws out quickly once his laughter has died down, pulling his brow up in question as Shiro swallows down his shot without pause. There’s a sharp click of glass against wood as he drops it on the corner of their table with a hiss.

“Well color me intrigued,” he says with a laugh as Shiro grabs his next victim, shrugging a shoulder as he keeps his eyes down.

“I’d tell you if we were friends but apparently we aren’t.” His smile goes sharp, filled with the same bite as a wolf. It only grows more pointed as his voice dips into nonchalance.

“Which, why don’t you want to be?”

Air seizes in Keith’s throat as panic stings his edges, leaving him buzzing as he tries to swallow it down. Suddenly, the shot warming against his palm feels like bullet as he realizes taking it would only prove he had something to hide.

Though, from the way Shiro’s grin widens, he’s sure he already knows.

“You’re an Alpha,” he tries, ignoring the way his voice sounds strangled even to his own ears. Keith doesn’t even want to imagine what it sounds like to Shiro’s. 

Like the confession he was hoping to avoid, maybe?

The very thought fills his throat with the bitter sting of bile.

Tsking softly, Shiro raises a finger at him and wags it slowly as he falls into mock disapproval, shaking his head in time with each hardened sound.

“That, sounds like a lie, and a lie is two shots,” he says mercilessly as he uses that same shaming finger to push another one of Keith’s shots toward him. It stares up at him, it’s clear stare reveling that of Shiro’s silver as he cuts his glance between the two before he sighs.

At the very least, Shiro is letting it go, and he’ll play by the rules if it meant being able to hide the truth beneath the acrid taste of vodka.

The first shot burns the entire way down.

“Making up rules as we go, are you?” Keith hums, not putting much force behind it as he grabs the second.

It chases the first’s flames with a kamikaze crash.

“Guess you’ll never know.” Shiro’s laugh is kindling to the fire that the vodka has already set, and Keith can feel it snapping and popping as it grows at his core. Mixed with the pleasant buzz of his first beer, there’s a happy kind of tingle that’s making his fingertips feels like lightning clouds as he palms his third shot. It bubbles up within him until he finds himself laughing as well.

He can feel the weight of Shiro’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t care, because in that moment he can pretend that maybe this is something more than two classmates celebrating the end of a partnership neither of them had even asked for.

“Who’s the guy you’re always with?” The next question comes after his laughter has dried up, and it causes him pause as he tilts his head, pulling his brows together in question.

There’s only one person that Shiro could mean, and that’s—

“Hunk?” He asks, though he supposes Shiro wouldn’t actually know. That would make the question moot, though he figures it should be anyway.

Shiro doesn’t have much of a reason to care who his friends are.

“He’s my best friend.”

Silver cuts into him, carving deep grooves into his skin as if he was trying to decide if Keith’s answer is a lie. It tickles his insides and turns his cheeks a light pink as the alcohol makes him warm beneath the stare. Suddenly, Keith wonders if maybe he does have a reason, because something about that look feels exciting.

Feels like maybe Shiro understands the way his fingers are screaming out to touch.

The corner of his mouth twitches up around a smirk as he leans forward on his forearms.

“Why, are you jealous?” He breathes. Shiro holds his gaze as he snatches up his next shot, throwing it back and baring his throat before dropping it in his shot glass graveyard.

A thrill runs through Keith that makes the edges of his vision light as he mirrors his stance and pushes himself forward against the table.

“Do you want me to be?” Shiro returns, barely hiding his smile as Keith opens his throat around another mouthful of vodka. It’s accompanied by the sound of his triumphant laughter mixed with the sweet, dulcet sounds of Tubthumping.

“Why do you want to be my friend so badly?” Keith volleys before the glass hits the wood, not even bothering to drop it by the empties.

The game had gotten interesting, and there was no point in pretense anymore.

Shining steel flicks downward as Shiro considers his words, mulling them over between the teeth he’s running over his bottom lip. And then he’s looking up and painting Keith’s vision a metallic shade as all else falls away. It leaves him feeling light, as if he’s about to float away, and now he remembers why he promised to never do shots again.

“I tried to tell you last year, you’re my type.”

He says it like a summer breeze. As if it were easy. As if it was right. As if it doesn’t set Keith ablaze and fill his lungs with smoke as he shakes his head.

“Lie, take two,” he manages as he tries to smoothly push one of Shiro’s shots toward him. Vodka spills over the side and slicks the table beneath it as he ignores it, instead smearing it along the table top as he pushes the glass further. Everything goes loud around them as Keith finds himself sinking beneath Shiro’s starlight gaze as he searches for something that only he could know.

“My turn,” Shiro’s voice is pitched low as he drops his stare to Keith’s mouth. In a brief moment of clarity, he notices the way it’s gone almost black.

“Kiss me?”

Everything stops and speeds up all at once as Keith finds himself floundering, crushed beneath the question. He should pull away.

He should laugh it off and take his shot.

He should bite back the gasp that has parted his lips.

But this is a game of what he should do, and what he does, and what Keith does, is none of the above.

Instead, he finds himself moving forward, his body propelled by the heat of Absolut and desire until he feels the unyielding pressure of Shiro’s mouth against his. It gathers the glowing heat of a star in his ribcage as they move against each other. Licking into his mouth, Keith steals the moan from Shiro’s tongue as he curls his fingers into the fabric of his shirt to hold him steady.

The new star incinerates his bone and his skin before building him back up and he’s certain he can see new universes glowing against the backs of his eyelids.

It’s too little and all to much as the room starts to burn around him, leaving a single point of clarity in the form of a heated palm against his nape.

That very palm, is the last thing Keith remembers as everything falls away into darkness, leaving nothing but the echo of that god forsaken song in its wake.

You’re never gonna keep me down.

***

Pain slices through Keith’s temple as he’s awakened by the sudden violence of his alarm going off. Eyes flying open as he pushes his way up from his bed, he grabs for the trash just to the side of his bed, managing to get it into his lap before his stomach empties its contents into the bottom of its cheap plastic.

This was it, the big one. The one where he promises to never drink again, and actually means it.

Why was he even taking shots to begin with?

Moments pass as his mind races to catch up with with his pulse that’s racing in his ears before it crashes down around him. Snippets of memory play before his eyes in dark fragments, set to a soundtrack of Chumbawumba.

There had been a strong arm wrapped around his waist that helped him stumble from the bar.

A deep laugh at some bad joke Keith had told.

A steady hand that had pressed into his chest and pushed him into his bed before pulling the covers up to his chin.

There had been the soft brush of lips against his cheek.

Keith’s breath quickens as he presses his fingertips to the crest of his cheek as if to chase the phantom sensation that burns there. Shiro had brought him home.

Shiro had tucked him into bed.

Blanching at the thought, Keith threw his legs over the edge of his bed, ignoring the tug of his blankets as they fall to the floor.

Something bright catches his vision as his eyes are pulled toward a glass on his nightstand. And beside it, two white capsules and a note.

With one hand clutching the trash can to his chest, Keith reaches for the pills, letting his fingers drag over the top of squared letters that sit beneath them. Each blue ink mark is another scar against his ribs as he reads the words.

Take this, and learn how to hold your liquor :)

He’s definitely never drinking again.

Groaning loudly, and wincing at the flare of pain it causes in his temple, Keith tosses the pills into his mouth, ignoring the water as he swallows them down dry to chase after his heart that was still rapidly beating in his throat.

********************

[ryanmeft]

MCU Final Battles from Worst to Best, Part Two

I hear there’s a movie coming out tomorrow that people are looking forward to. Infinity War promises to be the biggest fight in the MCU to date, but what about the other ones? Here’s part two of my list ranking every final battle in the MCU to date. The link to Part One is below.

Part One: http://ryanmeft.tumblr.com/post/173198399342/mcu-final-battles-from-worst-to-best-part-one

WARNING: THIS LIST THOROUGHLY SPOILS THE END OF EVERY MCU MOVIE. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

10. Spider-Man: Homecoming

What Happens

Spidey and Vulture battle in the skies and on a beach over a stolen crate of Stark weaponry.

Why it’s not half bad

The battle itself is nothing special, and forgoes some opportunities to take greater advantage of Spider-Man’s powers and Vulture’s flight. The best parts involve the interactions between the two, stemming from the fact that, whereas usually the hero doesn’t want to hurt the villain, this time the villain doesn’t really want to hurt the hero, either. The big finish, with Spidey dragging Vulture from the mess he himself caused, is golden, but overall it felt like the battle itself could have been more.

9. Ant-Man

What Happens

Ant-Man and Yellowjacket battle mostly at microscopic size in AM’s daughter’s playroom, using her toys as weapons.

Why It’s Not Half Bad

The creative use of toys like Cassie’s train set pushes this one up on the list. It’s genuinely funny and creative to see the way a child’s toy world is transformed into a battleground, and highlights the fact that the movie’s greatest strength was the interplay of bite-sized powers with the real world. The stakes are lighter than in any other MCU movie, which takes some of the urgency out of it, but this is wisely made up for by the use of humor in a way that recalls older, more physical silent films.

8. Black Panther

What Happens

Amid a wider battle for Wakanda, T’Challa and Killmonger both don identical Black Panther suits and face off with each other, and a train.

Why It’s Not Half Bad

Because the big battle between competing Wakandan factions is really, really cool, to the point where even a few ridiculous rhinos can’t dampen it. You can really feel the stakes in this one, since it amount to BP’s own little civil war. Sure, it was a little bizarre that they tried to make big drama out of Killmonger offing a random, nameless extra, but whatevs.

Sadly, in a movie so full of neat new ideas, the writers fall back on the most tired trope in superhero movies: two similarly-equipped combatants in a mirror match while the environment occasionally gets in the way. They already did this in Iron Man, Captain America, Ant-Man, and The Incredible Hulk, and several other non-MCU films have used the concept, so it feels like something that was pulled out of Script 101 and stuck in the middle of a better fight. Killmonger’s emotional death, however, adds enough feels to boost it.

7. Thor

What Happens

Loki tries to destroy Ice Person Land to prove he’s a better son, and Thor, who has learned compassion in, like, three days because of a pretty woman, goes a few rounds with him over this.

Why it’s Not Half Bad

The internal logic of this one is really spotty---why does Loki think destroying the world Odin stopped Thor from destroying will make him daddy’s favorite? All we care about is the actual fight, though, and it has a lot of cool touches. Thor’s brute force is pitted nicely against Loki’s cunning and bag of tricks, and Thor ends their one-on-one duel by taking a page from Loki’s book and using a trick instead of a punch; the hammer-on-the-chest thing was clever. While the “consequences” of Thor destroying the Rainbow Bridge to stop Loki’s plan were wiped away with a couple lines of dialogue in subsequent films, that’s irrelevant on this list, and in the moment, it was a surprisingly ballsy move.

6. Iron Man 3

What Happens

Iron Man uses all his resources, including multiple Iron Man armors, to to combat a baddie against which no one suit would have been enough. Then Super Gwyneth Paltrow almost ruins it.

Why it’s Not Half Bad

Yes, Super Gwyneth Paltrow was bad. Real bad. There was no reason to drag out the final battle to get that in there, especially since Tony’s initial solution of wrapping Guy Pearce in armor and making the armor go boom was basically his Mortal Kombat fatality, and it was AWESOME. But the rest of the battle still has that creative thrill that the other Iron Man finales, and most superhero flicks, are missing. Tony running between platforms and jumping between armors runs the danger of making things seem too much like a video game, but the movie pulls it off and gives us a great note to go out on for what is likely the last Iron Man finale we’ll see (at least until the 2030 reboot of the universe).

5. Thor: Ragnarok

What Happens

Thor, Loki, Valkyrie, Hulk and Karl Urban throw themselves against the forces of Hela, before ultimately deciding they must unleash a demon and destroy Asgard to defeat her.

Why It’s Awesome

The stakes for this one are higher than almost any other Marvel movie, and while some viewers might have been disappointed by the highly humorous tone of the film, the final fight is all business. The ultimate result---Thor and Loki have to destroy their entire world to prevent Hela gaining control over all the universe---is easily the biggest sacrifice a Marvel hero has made, and the battle has the secondary effect of justifying why Thor keeps Loki around. The battle itself is a little less impressive than the big finale. Basically, it’s another instance of the heroes throwing themselves at a clone army led by a nigh-invincible super baddie. Hulk vs. Fenris was cool, though.

4. Marvel’s The Avengers

What Happens

Loki opens a portal to the far reaches of space, allowing an alien army through to attack New York, and the newly formed Avengers, ahem, assemble to stop him and them.

Why It’s Awesome

For better or worse, this one set the tone for most of the non-solo MCU films that followed. It became predictable and, as a result, boring after a few years, but it still felt relatively fresh here. Everything about it, from the banter between the team members to the endless wealth of creative moves pulled---Hawkeye’s exploding arrow was a particular highlight---worked nearly effortlessly. And, of course, there was arguably the greatest single moment in any MCU fight to date. There’ve been few wonderfully hilarious surprises as great as “Puny God” in any superhero film, period. Like all such big fights (see the Lord of the Rings trilogy for more examples) it doesn’t quite have the same impact when you’ve seen it a few times, but it holds up better than a lot of others on repeat viewings.

3. Guardians of the Galaxy

What Happens

A gigantic fleet mostly fails to stop Monotone Space General from using an Infinity Stone to wipe out his race’s rival planet, so the Guardians land and stop him using the power of friendship and sick 80’s dance moves.

Why It’s Awesome

You might be asking why this one is so high on the list. The space battle is effective but not revolutionary, and for a moment it looks like we’ll get a typical Marvel ending to a fairly atypical Marvel movie. Then it busts out what I’m fairly sure has never happened in another movie: an intergalactic, genocidal warlord gets defeated by the power of friendship and a dance-off. That a cosmic baddie who is supposed to be nigh-unstoppable gets taken down by the song “O-o-h Child” is not only a riotously funny surprise, but for a movie that doesn’t take itself too seriously, the remaining Guardians joining together to use the power of the, well, Power Stone is shockingly effective. In terms of group-of-heroes vs. army-of-bad-guys style showdowns, this one is hard to top.

2. Doctor Strange

What Happens

Doctor Strange and company battle Kaecelius’s zealots, before Strange ends Dormammu’s threat to earth by trapping him in a time loop.

Why It’s Awesome

Because it’s not only clever and unexpected, but it fully utilizes the trippy, LSD-ish visual style and insane plotting that typified Steve Ditko’s famous 60’s original run. Even if you don’t care about that, though, there’s little question that trapping Dormammu in a time loop that Strange will only break if he leaves is not your typical showdown. Strange dying over and over again, having volunteered himself to suffer forever in order to protect humanity, has the air of ancient mythology about it, and is just damn effective, to boot. The movie itself had a mixed reception from fans, and you don’t hear much talk about it now, but it had a lot of interesting plot beats, and this was the best.

1. Captain America: Civil War

What Happens

Zemo leads the heroes to believe he’s going to unleash an army of Winter Soldiers on the world, but when they go to stop him, they find his plan is actually to turn them against themselves.

Why It’s The Best

This one has it all. First, since this basically an Avengers film in many ways, we’re led to expect the typical Avengers ending, with the heroes squaring off against an army of personality-free super-baddies. I actually audibly groaned when the plot revealed the existence of a Winter Soldier program. “Here we go again”, I thought. I can’t overstate my satisfaction when it turned out to be deliberate feint on both the part of the filmmakers and the bad guy.

Of course, a final showdown was necessary---this is still a popcorn movie, even if it is one of the best. More than any other MCU film, though, this one needed to feel personal, and boy did it ever. On every level, from direction to writing to acting, Iron Man squaring off with Captain America one-on-one for the right to kill Cap’s best friend for assassinating Tony’s parents was perfectly executed. All the little details, from Downey’s face when the truth is revealed to the undramatic way Cap drops his shield and Stark’s despair over the whole thing, are as pitch perfect as movies like this get. This was the last movie with most of the traditional team before Infinity War promises to shuffle the deck, and if its the de facto end of an era, it could hardly have ended on a more gripping note. These movies may not be Citizen Kane, but this came as close to greatness as they get.

[kawaiibobatea-blog]

Chapter 03: Regret

The sunlight beamed through the panes of his window and onto his lidded sockets. His eyes opened and suddenly squinted from the assault on them. It was a beautiful day outside. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming. Despite the beauty visible from the window into the outside world, inside was anything but. He glanced out of the corners of his sockets and sighed. Clicking his tongue, he shook what was left of the post awakening daze from his head. What he saw when he looked back hadn't changed. The sunlight cast shadows in the room, over him and the form next to him making him face the cruelty and reality of his mistake. He took the heels of his hands and dug them into his sockets as if trying to wipe away what he saw.

The form next to him was still there; a woman. Naked. Sleeping. Vague memories flooded into his mind of the previous night. He had been about ready to go to bed... right? Then the phone had rang. His mind couldn't form the words in his head of what had been said, but she had barely walked in the door before they were on each other. He had hoped that it hadn't escalated as far as his mind thought it did, but scanning around the room there was all the evidence pointing to what he didn't want to face.

A dress had been thrown on the floor, a shirt on the floor, a shredded pair of lacy underwear on the doorknob with a just as tattered bra not too far away. To be truthful, he couldn't believe he was feeling the guilt in the pit of his... stomach. He had done this many times before, but maybe what bothered him most wasn't that he didn't really remember what had happened between them, but that he didn't remember her name.

Fran...? Felicia?

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember it. All he remembered was that it started with an F. Perhaps another thing that made him sick was that she was still there. Usually during his night escapades, one would leave right after or before one woke up. He hadn't had to face someone sleeping next to him before, well a woman. He had had Paps and Frisk sleep by him when they were kids and sometimes Paps even still did it.

Frisk.

Instantly, his mood turned sour, remembering the child that had saved them and who was now a young woman. Accompanied with remembering her name and thinking of her at all beckoned the feeling of nausea. He swallowed, the last thing Sans wanted to do was vomit. With another glance at Fran or Felicia, he stood up. Scratching the back of his ivory skull, he looked around for some clothes. Donning his usual attire, he froze in place when the human woman exhaled and moved in her sleep. Sans only let an exhale leave his body when Fran or Felicia had nestled back into bed.

Sans went over and opened his one night stand's drawer and hastily moved the many items around before he took out a pad of sticky notes and a pen. Papyrus had told him he needed another night stand, but Sans had said that he kept the one for the sake of a pun; Papyrus didn't understand. Even to this day, he didn't understand the joke and when he had tried to ask Grillby, the flame elemental had almost dropped his glass. Similar reactions had come from around their circle of friends. His sockets turned to the paper and he began to write;

'hope you enjoyed yourself. get home safe. - sans' Reading the note over a couple of times, he decided it was satisfactory enough to use. He turned around and gathered her clothing up, one article at a time. He picked up the underwear between two phalanges, staring at had once been. The bra was just in bad of shape and when he placed the pile of clothes on the stand and put the note on them, he looked at the woman again. He didn't even remember how the lace of her underwear had gotten into that state, but from the look of bliss that was on Fran or Felicia's face, he could only assume that she had liked it. It made his ego swell a little. Sans knew he wasn't bad at what he did, but, seeing the look on their faces always did it.

Quickly, Sans retreated. He disappeared into the void between this world and another in a vapor of blue smoke, landing outside. He wiped his hand down his face and sighed, feeling a head splitter coming on. He knew what could cure a headache; fries and a burger. Shoving his hands back in the pockets of his jacket, he trudged down the street to his friend's establishment. Before someone even got to the door, the sounds of laughter and the smell of food was present. Grillby hardly ever opened the windows, he didn't want the wind to mess up his flame. Either way, the walls seemed to seep the smell and jovial mood. He hoped that it would rub off on him because right how, he needed it.

Inside, the clamor of every day life only intensified. The booths were filled and as he passed by, some monsters waved. "Yo! Sans, what's up man?" A monster said and clasped their hands together and gave a hug and a pat on the back.

"not much, just getting something to eat." He didn't want to delve into his personal life with someone that wasn't Grillby.

Sans thought that he could just make small talk with his acquaintance and be alright, the fact that his body knew he was about to get food was already starting to alleviate his headache. Nothing stayed so simple for him, "So how's Frisk?" He asked and the feeling of nausea returned. Why, of all topics, did this one have to come up? Sans tried to play it off and simply shrugged, his hands taking their signature place in his pockets with a small chuckle.

"dunno." Sans said and smirked, seeing his friend look at him in confusion. He tried to have a passive glare of not wanting to answer any questions, but he could rival Papyrus on the oblivious trait.

"You don't know?" The monster said and adjusted himself in the booth before continuing his thought. "You and her were attached at the hip, and you don't know?"

Sans' eye socket twitched but the smile still remained on his face. It was becoming more strained with every look that the two monsters shared. "not my day to watch the kid."

"But Sans, you-"

"talk to ya later. i'm hungry."

Ejecting himself from the conversation elicited a sigh of relief. All he had wanted was to eat in peace and get rid of his headache. Now he was feeling nauseous and his headache was getting stronger. Fan. Fucking. Tastic. He took a seat at his usual stool and rubbed his temples with his fingers. Before he could even open his mouth to order, a glass was put in front of him. When he looked up, his best friend was shining his glass per usual.

He was hoping a good ol' bottle of Heinz would've been put in front of him, but the glass was filled with soda. Ebott Dew from the smell of it. He was a fan of it. Multiple bottles of it-great and small-littered his room mingled with the ketchup bottles. He looked from the Dew to his best friend who didn't seem to see anything wrong. "you think this is funny?" Grillby didn't answer him. He just grabbed another glass to dry. "the fuck is this?"

Grillby didn't look at Sans, but spoke anyway, a feat in itself. "...soda." He said. Sans never really got violent at Grillbs or yelled at him, but from the morning he was having and the sour mood he had been put in by the monster in the booth, he wasn't acting like his normal self.

"you know what the hell i mean, campfire." Sans said and put his face in his hands.

"You don't need it."

"the hell would you know, huh?"

"..." Grillby fell into silence again. Sans sighed and shook his head which rubbed his hands against his face. He felt bad and was about to apologize when Sans heard Grillby continue. Instead of cutting off the conversation, Grillbs must've just been gathering his thoughts. "What did you do?"

"i didn't do anything."

"... Liar."

"what makes you think i did something?"

"You're not acting like yourself."

Sans cringed slightly, his harsh accusations settling into his marrow. This was absolutely ridiculous. He was being absolutely ridiculous. "so what? can't a guy have an off day?"

A few moments passed between them and was slightly elated that Grillby didn't fire back right away and internally laughed at his pun. Fire... heh. That was a good one. He'd have to share that with-... Nobody. Share it with nobody. "What. Did. You. Do?"

Sighing in defeat, Sans looked up at Grillby and let his perpetual smile turn into a perpetual frown. "i... spent the night with someone." When Grillby didn't respond, he figured that was a cue to keep going. "and woke up next to her."

Grillby almost dropped his glass. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses trying to get over the initial shock. While he hadn't approved of Sans' hobbies, he knew Sans had the one rule; don't wake up next to the woman. Feelings could develop, and well... Sans didn't need that right now. He disappeared and a couple minutes later reappeared with some food. He could tell Sans was about to lose it. "Who was it?" He asked, hoping that they could front this off before the woman started to develop unnecessary feelings.

"i dunno. fran... felicia... freesia. it was something like that." Sans said and sighed again, taking a sip of the soda that had remained untouched. "now all i feel is regret."

While Grillby was happy to see Sans growing a conscious for all the ways he'd been acting, he didn't appreciate the sordid mood it put his friend in. "I see. I will see what I can do if anything develops." Grillby promised. While Sans continued to pluck at the fries and burger, he noticed Grillby would occasionally take glances at him.

"my turn. what's on your mind?" Sans asked and Grillby returned with a dismissive crackle. "so it's gonna be like that huh?" He popped another fry into his mouth and watched his friend, hoping the staring would make him crack or show some kind of weakness. He should've known better. This was Grillby after all. "so it is."

They sat in silence quietly enjoying each other's company. The further into the meal Sans got, the more his headache was disappearing as was the sentimental mood he had been in minutes prior. Occasionally, Grillbs would put another soda down in front of him. It was only when he was completely finished with both food and drink did Sans speak again. "thanks for the food. i'm gonna head out. paps needs me to get ingredients for tonight's dinner." Sans smiled fondly when Grillby picked up the glass and plate and returned to the back room.

Outside, the wind was gently blowing, only barely disrupting the fabric of his shorts. It was cool outside and comfortable. He exhaled and closed his eyes, letting the wind glide against his bones. He still couldn't believe that he had went off like that. The monster from the booth had no doubt been the cause; randomly asking about "her" like that.

"Just leave me alone! I'm not your girlfriend, so just stay away from me! I don't even want to be your friend! I hate you!"

The words threw themselves against the walls of Sans' cranium and the moment of peace was shattered. The shadows that he had once found endearing and cheerful now seemed ominous and dark. A ringing could be heard from his pocket which gave him a few moments to realize what it was. When two and two clicked together, he grabbed his phone and answered.

"SANS! IT'S A DISASTER! A COMPLETE AND TERRIBLE DISASTER!"

"paps, what-"

"IT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN, EVER!"

"tell me wh-"

"I DON'T KNOW HOW I'LL EVER FEEL HAPPY AGAIN!"

"paps!" Sans said louder, but didn't yell. He didn't want his little brother to think that he was mad at him. He would've been worried, but Paps had a habit of over exaggerating... pretty much everything. "calm down and tell me what it is."

"IT'S TERRIBLE! I WENT TO GO AND MAKE DINNER AND I OPENED THE CABINET AND GUESS WHAT I FOUND?"

"a box of pasta?"

"YES, BUT WHAT ABOUT THE BOX?"

"it-"

"YES BROTHER! IT WAS EMPTY! IT'S TERRIBLE!"

Sans smiled genuinely and shook his head. His brother was such a big bag of drama sometimes. No wonder he had gotten a part in one of Mettaton's plays a few years ago. Papyrus had said that he had practiced hard for it, but Sans knew he was just acting like himself.

"paps, i tell ya what. i'll go into town and get you some more. okay?"

"MORE? FROM THE STORE! YES! THAT'S RIGHT! YOU ARE SO SMART BROTHER! THANK YOU SANS! I SHALL PREPARE MANY MORE THINGS FOR DINNER TONIGHT!"

Sans smiled and heard the 'beep' of the call ending. He laughed gently and shoved his hands and his phone into his pockets. He sighed, trying to lighten his mood again. Opening his sockets, he headed down the road towards the central part of town where the grocery stores were all... two of them.

He grabbed a basket inside the door when they swooshed open in front of him. With how much pasta he bought from here, the stores had to put in extra orders to get the pasta. He followed the numbers with his eyes even though he knew the store like the back of his hand:

Aisle 1: Produce Aisle 2: Pet supplies Aisle 3: Stationary Aisle 4: Frozen foods Aisle 5: Drinks Aisle 6: Medicine Aisle 7: Dairy Aisle 8: Pasta and canned goods

He turned down aisle 8 and stopped suddenly. Sans wanted to call Sans and tell him that the store was out of pasta, but no doubt his brother would cry for hours afterwards saying he felt bad that he hadn't been able to cook for him. He kept his eyes on the boxes of pasta and jars of sauce. Might as well get some sauce too while he was here.

"Sans. Hey." The small voice had come from behind him. He didn't look at the voice and tried his hardest not to let the words register in his head. When he grabbed the items, he had turned around to leave the aisle, but she had stepped in front of his sight; not fully, but enough to where he got to see her. Her brown hair was brushed and she was wearing a sundress. He hated it. Hated her hair. Hated her eyes. Just hated every bit of her.

"what?"

"Um... Well... Whatcha getting?" She asked, peeking over into his basket. It wasn't quantum physics, the ingredients were the same every time. He moved the basket out of her sight a bit. The gesture seemed to go through since she leaned back to her full height. All 5 foot and 1 inch of her.

"pasta. sauce."

"O-Oh. You uh... What-"

"spaghetti."

There was a stand still between the two of them. Part of him had wanted to apologize when her face fell, but it was quickly washed away when he saw something he only knew was a matter of time. A large hand wrapped around her waist. Sans looked, almost bored at what he had seen: a tall human was standing next to her. His hair was blond and his eyes were blue as well.

"Oh... Was I interrupting something?" The human asked, having not taken his eyes off of Sans, the skeleton just letting out a short bitter laugh.

"no."

"Jason, this is-"

"no one important." Sans said and started to walk past them, but between the two of them, the small aisle was blocked off. He didn't want to hear anymore. He didn't want to see anymore.

"I've heard a lot about you Sans." Jason said and wrapped his arm tighter around her, happiness in his blue eyes. He hated that happiness. Looking over the two of them, he let out another bitter laugh.

"i should've known this was how it was going to end up." Sans said, looking at Jason but was talking to her.

"What do you-"

Ignoring Jason's words, Sans sat the basket down with its ingredients on the ground and turned around. He didn't want to be here. There was another store. Smaller. Farther away. He could just go up there and get it there. Without saying anything, he walked away from them and went outside. His legs took him straight to the other store.

"I hate you! I don't even want to be your friend!" That voice continued to taunt him over and over.

"good thing the feeling's mutual then, huh kid?" Sans answered the voice in his head and gathered the ingredients from the other store. He gave a fake smile to the cashier; Fall. He thought "Autumn" would've been better, but it wasn't his name. He looked at the slip of paper she had handed him. Name and phone number. "might as well use this sometime soon."

His shoes crunched against the fallen leaves. The crisp air was helping to clear his cranium from the bullshit that was in there. He actually loved it when the weather was like this. He could go ahead and enjoy it. Maybe later he would go out for a walk, probably before he called Fall. Stupid name. Had her parents been drunk? When Sans went inside the house and gave his brother the ingredients and filled the fridge with Ebott Dew, Ketchup, and other ingredients. Of course, he was met with another curveball. "OH! SANS! I'M GLAD YOU BOUGHT SO MUCH! I INVITED ALL OUR FRIENDS TO HAVE DINNER WITH US TONIGHT! IT'S BEEN A FEW WEEKS SINCE WE ALL HUNG OUT BECAUSE WE'VE BEEN SO BUSY! IT'S A GOOD IDEA, RIGHT?"

"yeah... a good idea paps. thanks." Sans said, looking at his oblivious brother. He didn't want to think about that now. All he had to do was get through this night. For now, Papyrus said he wanted to play a game with him and beat him again.

"WE'RE GOING TO HAVE A LOT OF FUN!"

"yeah paps, we are."

[wwesmutdonedirtcheap]

Wishful Thinking

Summary: Ever since the boys from the UK crashed into NXT, you’ve grown incredibly close to them. Tyler and Pete both have feelings for you but Tyler is the only one who actually verbalizes it. What happens when Pete walks in on Tyler and you consummating your new relationship, after the two of you have already hooked up? Voyeurism/Threesome - Inspired by a convo with @alexispoo who helped me a lot with the plot. :)

Tags…Yeah, you know.

“Workin’ late again?”

I looked up from my computer, to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

“Well, you know…The job of an NXT intern never stops,” I laughed nervously.

I had been interning for almost a year while I finished my communications major at college. I had seen lots of wrestlers walk through the doors but Tyler was one of the most beautiful. Not only that, but he was kind and funny. He had an effect on me that only a few people did. One of those being his in ring rival. Pete made my stomach do flip flops when he even looked at me. There was no way that either one of those guys would show legitimate interest in a lowly intern like me.

At least that was what I thought until several months ago. Tyler and Pete had both been hanging around me more than usual. We had always been friends but they suddenly seemed more interested in what I had to say. I caught them staring at me sometimes…Possibly with a hint of the same longing I felt for both of them? They were more protective too, mainly from each other.

Now, Tyler’s eyes on me were so intense that they made me quiver on the inside.

“You want some company?”

“Ok,” I laughed absently, trying my best to stay as calm as possible.

He moved closer into the room but left the door still open. I breathed an inward sigh of relief that he did.

Tyler sat down across from me and started flipping through his cellphone.

“Are you just going to sit there?” I peered over the top of my Mac and smiled at him in confusion.

“Yeah,” he laughed, the same hint of nervousness in his voice that I felt “Got some emails to answer…That ok?”

“It’s fine,” I nodded, reaching for a stack of papers at the end of the desk.

I missed them, and they went scattering to the floor. I jumped up and ran around to pick them up, bumping heads with Tyler as he crouched down to get them.

“Sorry,” I grinned, lightly rubbing the side of my head.

“You all right?” his face wrinkled with worry.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, as he handed me the papers he had retrieved.

“Shit,” he reached out as I stood up “You’re already gettin’ a goose egg there.”

His fingers tugged my chin and he examined the side of my forehead carefully. 

The feeling of his skin on mine, set my whole body on fire. I stared straight at his eyes and he finally glanced down at me.

“I’ll live,” I whispered softly.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his fingers lingering on my chin “You’ll be fine.”

My eyes fell to his perfect lips and I could feel his body moving closer to me…

“I wondered what in tha bloody hell ya were doin’.”

We both jumped and turned to find Pete standing in the doorway.

“Pete!” I shrieked without thinking, causing Tyler to cringe slightly.

“What’s goin’ on here?”

Pete’s snarl was all twisted up on his lip as he flipped his hair out of his eyes. He was dressed out of his ring gear, in a hoodie and jeans. Not nearly as formal as Tyler, who was in a button up and slacks.

“Nothing.”

We both said it at the same time and parted away from each other.

“What in the hell happened to your head?”

Pete crossed the room and took my face in his hands. His eyes darkened as he scrutinized the spot.

“It was an accident,” I smiled “We both reached for the papers on the floor and…”

“You did this to her?” Pete whirled around, his body practically pressing against Tyler’s questioningly.

“Accident, mate. Just like she said,” Tyler shifted “…Did you need something?”

I forced the smile off my face as Pete got even more angry. Tyler wasn’t afraid of him. We were probably the only people, aside from Trent and Regal, who weren’t afraid of the new champion.

“Pete, I’m fine,” I interjected “Did you need to talk to me about something?”

“It can wait,” he snarled, backing away from Tyler and turning back to me.

“Ok,” I nodded.

“Get some ice for ya head,” he insisted, his stare filled with concern which was shocking in and of itself.

“Got it,” I nodded.

“I’ll make sure she gets some,” Tyler chimed in.

Damn it, Tyler.

“I just bet you will,” Pete growled before turning and storming out of the room.

“Did you have to taunt him like that?” I returned to my seat.

“Come on. You can’t tell me that getting under Dunne’s skin isn’t fun?” he laughed, dropping back to his seat.

I shook my head, my eyes drifting back to my papers and my mind trying to forget what almost happened between us. Tyler wasn’t so quick to forget.

“You know that he wants you?” he started, running a hand through his shaggy hair and then looking back at his phone screen.

“What?” I asked, refusing to look up at him.

“Pete,” he scoffed “Pete wants to fuck ya. Claim ya or some shit.”

“Tyler!” I gasped, my cheeks flushing so red that they burned “Don’t say that!”

“It’s the bloody truth,” he shrugged “He wants ya. So bad that it’s eatin’ away at him.”

It was quiet for a minute and I finally shut my laptop loudly. This was my chance. Tyler had almost kissed me, he was inches away from it. Now was my perfect, and maybe only, opportunity to find out the truth. Was it possible that he had feelings for me? Even though my mind was racing with what he had just revealed about Pete…I had to know how Tyler felt. After all, Tyler was the one who was willing to talk to me about feelings…If he felt anything.

“What about you?”

“Huh?” Tyler fidgeted in his seat.

“I said, what about you?” I repeated in a lower voice “Do you want anybody around here? You’ve been here long enough now to know everyone and…”

“You.”

“What?” I laughed, not sure that I had heard him correctly.

“I want you,” he stood, walking around the desk and grabbing my hand, pulling me to my feet.

“Tyler,” I sighed as I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach.

“Before we were interrupted…I felt like we were havin’ a moment…I feel like we’ve been havin’ a lot lately’”

He reached out, his fingers dancing through my hair and landing on my face to cup it softly.

“Yeah,” I bit down on my lip “We were…We have…”

“So…” he grinned “We can finish what we started then, love?”

I nodded with a smile, before he tilted his head again. He moved achingly slow toward my lips and I closed my eyes when they finally connected. I slid my hand up the back of his neck, as his arms wrapped around my waist.

He groaned heavily into my mouth before our lips parted.

“For three months I’ve been wantin’ to do that,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You shouldn’t have waited so long,” I sighed, my hands now sliding down his chest.

“You wanna go to dinna’ with me?” he linked the fingers of his right hand with mine.

“Yes,” I nodded before his lips pressed to mine again.

For the next few weeks, Tyler and I spent a lot of time together. He took me out on dates almost every night after work. It made for an extra grumpy mood early the next morning but it was worth it. It didn’t matter what we did. Dinner, movies, museums…Tyler made everything fun just being with him. He was so adorable. Shy but powerful all at once.

I couldn’t deny the fact that Pete was clearly unhappy with this new development. He barely looked at Tyler in the gym. He would walk by the offices to glance inside, looking for us.

One morning, he actually came through the door to the room I was using.

“Hey,” he huffed out, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his track pants.

“Pete,” I smiled, standing up from my seat “You mean that you’re actually still talking to me?”

Despite how happy I was with my developing relationship with Tyler, I hated that Pete was ignoring me. Sure he still watched me, with careful and protective eyes, but our communication otherwise had dwindled.

“Talking to you?” he smirked, raising one hand to glide over his face with frustration “Ya think I stopped talking to you? Like I’m ignorin’ you?”

“Sort of,” I shrugged, moving a little closer “Ever since Tyler and I…”

“I’m not here to talk about Tyler,” his eyes grew dark at the mention of his name 

“I don’t care about tha things you’ve done with him.”

“What?” I laughed in confusion.

“Fuckin’,” he spoke in a deep voice.

I should have been angry at such a bold statement, and maybe I was deep down, but the jealousy taking over his face only excited me.

I folded my arms across my chest.

“What we do is between us.”

“Then ya haven’t,” Pete smirked with satisfaction “What’s wrong? Tyler boy not enough to handle you?”

His fingers reached out, tracing down my bare arm. My heart leapt into my throat and I felt a yearning between my legs as he touched me.

“You make it sound like I’m something important,” I whispered with my eyes glued to his dark ones.

“You are,” he answered quickly “You’re every man’s dream.”

“Ok, just stop,” I laughed “That’s…”

“You’re so beautiful,” his fingers continued to glide up and down my arm “You feel so good…So soft.”

As he spoke, he gripped my arm and pulled me closer to him. I felt my breath catch and a slick form between my legs.

Fuck.

Tyler.

Shit.

“I, I can’t,” I gasped.

“Can’t or won’t?” he whispered, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of my neck.

“Pete,” I sighed in frustration.

“Tyler doesn’t deserve you,” he shook his head “He doesn’t know what to do with a woman like you…How to touch you…How to please you when tha lights go out.”

“Ok,” I summoned all my strength and moved his hand away from my head 

“You have to stop. Right now.”

“Am I tellin’ the truth then?” he growled, running his just released hand through his own hair.

“Pete,” I whispered, shifting uncomfortably as the yearning continued to grow.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he stepped backward away from me “You’ll see that Tyler isn’t man enough for you…That he’s all boy…And I’m all the man you’ll eva’ need.”

My eyes dropped to the floor because I had never felt so confused in my life. The throbbing continuing between my thighs.

“I’ll be waitin’,” he assured me “Look at me.”

I lifted my face and saw the burning look of lust on his.

“I’ll wait foreva’ if I need to,” he ran his tongue over his rough lips “Because you know, as well as I do, that he can neva give you what I can….You’re tremblin’ all ova’ and I barely even touched you.”

I realized at that moment, that I was doing exactly that. I wrapped my arms tight around myself.

“Here,” he slid his sweatshirt over his head and tossed it to me “Put this on. Keep ya warm….Til I can.”

I slid it over my head, the sleeves a little too long so I curled my hands up inside of them.

When I looked up to thank him, he was gone.

Later that evening, I decided to take a shower in the girls’ locker room. Most of the wrestlers were gone for the night, including Tyler. He had a night out with the boys planned and I encouraged him to go. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was torn but he finally left.

The showers were so quiet, as I carefully laid out the towel that I always kept in my locker. Every now and then, I would have to freshen up for an event I had to go to immediately following work. Regal gave me a locker and I kept all the essential inside.

I pulled my bottle of shampoo and my conditioner out of a bag hanging inside and sat them on the bench.

As, I took off my shirt and bra…My mind began to wander. It didn’t wander to Tyler however…It wandered to Pete. The feel of his hands on my arms, the smell of his cologne as he pulled me close, the words that he spoke to me that made me wet immediately for him.

I sat down on the bench after I slid my pants off and drew in a deep breath. I needed to forget him. Pete was a playboy. He wouldn’t be interested in any sort of a relationship and I had a good thing going with Tyler.

He can neva’ give you what I can

Pete’s words rang in my ears and caused me to slowly feel that tingling between my legs again.

“This is ridiculous,” I said aloud to myself “I can’t…”

Before I knew it, I stood up and moved into one of the showers that had a long, wooden bench in it. I slid onto it and pressed my back against the cold wall.

You’re tremblin’ all ova’…and I barely even touched you.

I heard his voice in my head again, as I leaned my head back and my left hand slowly slid down my naked upper body. I gripped one of my nipples between my fingers and twisted it sharply. In my head, it was Pete’s teeth, his hands, his body causing the sensations flowing through me.

Before long, that wasn’t enough. My right hand slid down my stomach and danced across my panties. They were the only clothing I had on and I moaned, as my fingers slid over how wet they were.

“Pete,” I whispered, tugging harder on my nipple as my fingers sped up between my aching legs.

I bit down on my lip, sucking it into my mouth to help muffle the sounds I was trying to silence.

Suddenly, just sliding my hands along myself wasn’t enough either. I allowed myself to moan, echoing in the shower far louder than I intended, as I pushed my panties to the side. My fingers rubbed harder against my bare clit.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, as I sped them up “…Pete.”

I arched my back against the wall, knocking my head harshly into it. I whimpered in pain but kept moving my fingers. The harder I twisted my nipple the more I imagined Pete’s mouth around it and the faster I moved my fingers. I started thinking about Pete’s dick. I had never imagined what he would look like but now that was the only thing on my mind. I closed my eyes, pretending my fingers were the head of his dick as I slid them inside of me.

“Pete,” I moaned again, this time so lost in my own desires that I didn’t care anymore.

“Need some help there, love?”

My eyes flew open and I froze.

Pete.

“What are you doing in here?” I gasped, not nearly as embarrassed as I should be at that moment.

“Heard you talkin’ to yourself,” he moved closer, sliding his shirt over his head 

“Then I heard my name…I just thought I’d ansa’ you.”

“I, I can’t,” I quickly sat up and wrapped my arms over my bare breasts.

“Don’t hide from me,” he smirked “I already saw how beautiful yer body was…I’m imagining right now the things I could do to it.”

He reached down, taking my face in his hands and pulling me to my feet. I went willingly, exposing myself to him again.

“Let me help you, with this,” he groaned, his fingers gliding inside of my underwear immediately.

“Shit” I gasped, as his fingers moved up inside me and his thumb glided across my clit.

He bent his head, his mouth taking in my nipple just like in my fantasy. His teeth tugged and teased it, his tongue lapped all around it before licking over its sensitive point. I dug my hand into his hair and gasped, as he pushed another finger inside me.

“This pussy,” he lifted his head, his hot breath hitting my ear “I’ll get it for myself one day.”

“How about today?” I gasped, my eyes drifting down to his defined hard on.

At that moment, I wasn’t thinking about Tyler at all. Later, I would feel incredibly guilty.

That was all I had to say, he immediately dropped his gym shorts sans underwear and picked me up by my waist. He slammed me against the wall of the shower and his fingers pushed my panties to the side. Before I had time to process it all, he pushed up inside of me and practically growled with satisfaction.

“Nobody can fuck ya like me,” he hissed, his hands gripping my hips tightly as I held on to his neck for dear life.

He was probably right. His dick slid along inside me perfectly. He was large but my body had been forced to adjust quickly.

“Mm,” he chewed on his own lower lip “Fuckin’ tight, god damn it.”

I giggled softly and he started working me faster on top of him.

“How many?” he panted.

“What?” I moaned, as his fingers slid down to massage my clit as well.

“How many men…been where I am right now?”

It would have been insulting under any normal circumstances….But I was getting fucked by Pete in a shower after he found me masturbating to the very thought of him.

“Three,” I managed to gasp out.

“That explains it,” he grinned devilishly “Must’ve been pencil dicks, huh?”

I leaned down and dug my teeth into the side of his neck. He laughed smugly against my ear.

“How long?” I pressed my sweaty forehead against his shoulder.

“What?” he groaned, his body starting to tense up.

“How long were you watching me?”

He pushed my head up to look at me.

“Long enough to know, that this is where you belong…Just like this. Gettin’ fucked right…”

I felt myself start to contract around him and I scratched my fingers across his chest.

“Pete!” I screamed, the loudest yet “Oh god…Fuck.”

He grinned at me, his forehead boring into mine.

“Cum all over me, sweetheart,” he panted “Let everybody in this bloody buildin’ hear you.”

“Shit!” I squealed, as I toppled over the edge of my orgasm.

He continued to pound into me until he shuddered and dropped me to the ground. His cum spurted out, landing against my stomach on my way down to my feet.

We both stood there, gasping for air in the stuffy locker room. Pete finally reached down and grabbed his shorts, guiding them up over his hips. He leaned into me, finally kissing me for the first time. His teeth sank into my lip and he moaned heavily against me.

“Tyler,” I whispered when our mouths parted.

“Our lil secret, love,” he winked, his hands roaming across my breasts and down my sides.

“But,” I stammered, imagining the look on my sweet, sort of boyfriend’s face if he were to find out I had just had amazing sex with his now arch nemesis.

“How was it?” he moved his mouth to my neck, his tongue sliding along it roughly.

I moaned, reaching down and gripping his dick through his shorts.

“Fuckin’ best I’ve had in a long, long time,” he sucked on the skin of my shoulder “Watchin’ you touch ya’self….Thinkin’ about me…”

“The real thing is much better,” I laughed nervously, as his mouth found mine again.

“Mmm,” he pulled away at last “Anytime you wanna put on a show…I’ll be there.”

Our bodies pressed together as he pushed me against the wall, on my feet this time, and dove at my mouth again.

The guilt slowly began to eat away at me. At first, I tried to convince myself that just because Tyler and I had never said we were exclusive…That meant I didn’t have to tell him.

Every time we passed Pete in the hallways, I felt my face turn bright red and a smile would curl on his proud mouth.

The truth was, I wanted to have sex with Pete again but Tyler and I had yet to consummate our relationship.

“Tyler,” I whispered, as we sat nestled in a restaurant booth about a week after my encounter with Pete “You think you might…Maybe…Want to come back to my room?”

He grinned over at me as his eyes widened.

“I like tha sound of that,” he shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes and delicately pulled my mouth to his.

Once we made it inside my door, he immediately pushed me back against it softly. His hands gripped my face, his lips drew my mouth to his over and over again. He was so gentle with me and I did like that…I liked how rough Pete was too. I immediately tried to push thoughts of Pete out of my mind.

I reached for the sleeves of Tyler’s t-shirt and he raised his arms, so I could slide it over his head.

I dipped my mouth to his chest, planting kisses all over it. His hand dug into my hair and little moans escaped him.

“Here,” he finally raised my head up.

He tugged my own shirt over my head and made quick work of the button to my shorts. They fell around my feet and I stepped out of them. Just as his hands reached around my back to unclasp my bra, there was a powerful knock on the door.

“Tha bloody hell?” Tyler groaned, pushing me out of view and slinging the door open.

“Can I come in?”

I felt my stomach drop. It was Pete and he sounded less than pleased with a half naked Tyler in my room.

“No,” Tyler shot back “What are you even doin’ here?”

I heard the door slam behind Pete as he entered the room.

“I came to see her, not you.”

I sighed, stepping into view in my underwear and Tyler quickly jumped in front of me.

“Tyler, it’s ok,” I whispered, sliding him away slowly “I guess, I guess you should know…”

“Know what?” he creased his brow as he glanced between us.

“Pete and I sort of,” I stammered nervously, trying to hold his gaze but he was zeroed in on Pete’s smug expression.

“We fucked,” Pete finished for me “And it was fuckin’ incredible….She’s gonna be mine, mate. Might as well just get of ‘ere now.”

“You what?” Tyler turned to me and I sank against the frame of the bathroom door.

“I’m so sorry,” I shook my head “It’s just…You never said we were a couple or that you were my boyfriend. We never had sex and it just…It just sort of happened.”

“I told you!” Tyler raised his voice sternly “I told you how he was. I told you he would try to get with you!”

“Oh come on,” Pete growled “You and I both know this is more than that. She isn’t just some random road fuck that we pass amongst ourselves for fun.”

“Pete!” I interrupted at last “Tyler and I were having something here and I really think you should go.”

“Go?” Pete laughed in shock “You want me to go? While this pathetic boy here tries to get you off?”

“Fuck you,” Tyler growled, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the bed.

“Tyler!” I squealed “What are you doing?”

“He can watch if he wants,” Tyler sat down and looked up at me “But I’m gonna show you both that I’m tha man who can please you right.”

He reached up, unhooking my bra and tossing it aside. He slid off his jeans and pulled me down on his lap. I felt his firm thigh underneath me and I scooted over to straddle it.

“I love your legs,” I leaned up, whispering in his ear so Pete couldn’t hear me.

“Yeah?” Tyler grinned, his hand dancing in my hair as he pulled my mouth closer to his “How much?”

I started to rock myself against the toned, hard flesh of his upper thigh and he grunted in a low voice.

I cast a glance over my shoulder and saw Pete seething. He was moving closer and closer to us. His face laced with jealousy and lust all at once.

“Shit” I whimpered as my clit eased into it’s rightful place and the sensations got even stronger.

I felt a hand grip my jaw and moved my mouth to the side. Pete’s rough lips grabbed mine, biting and nipping. His tongue plunged in deep and I circled it with my own. I felt Tyler grip my hips and rock me even harder against his leg.

“Fuck,” I gasped, when Pete finally let me breathe.

Tyler latched his mouth to my breasts, licking and biting all over them. Pete’s hand played in my hair, tugging my face up to look at the ceiling as his mouth found mine again.

My clit was so aroused that I knew it would be no time before I crashed over and I wanted to be looking at Tyler when I did. I pulled away from Pete with a sigh and Tyler’s eyes locked with mine as he lifted his head.

“Tyler,” I moaned, gripping his shoulders as I started to ride out an intense orgasm “Oh, Tyler!”

“Fuckin’ shit,” I heard Pete groan angrily behind me.

Tyler was grinning at me as I came and he quickly flipped me underneath him. 

My panties sailed down off my body and his hard dick was exposed at the top of his underwear.

“You want me to fuck you?” he whispered.

I nodded, still gripping his shoulders for dear life.

“Hard?”

“Yes…please,” I whimpered.

His dick inched slowly into me and then he immediately bottomed out. Every. Single. Time.

As I rode out how amazing he felt, Pete crawled up on the bed. He was stripped of his clothes and his dick was throbbing over my face.

“Suck me with those perfect lil lips of yours,” he groaned, guiding my head toward his dick.

Tyler was in his own fog, pushing up into me so hard that it was difficult to concentrate on pleasing Pete.

“Shit,” Tyler grunted, his hips snapping hard against me.

“Just like that,” Pete sighed encouragingly “Fuck. Just like that, sweetheart.”

I sucked him all the way down my throat and he threw his head back. I could tell he was contemplating on whether to let himself go.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, as I started to spasm around Tyler, which drew my mouth from Pete.

“Fuckin’ shit!” Tyler spat, pulling out and his cum flying all over my stomach. 

“Damn it!”

Immediately without warning, Tyler dove his head between my legs and sank to his knees on the floor.

“Shit!” I jumped in surprise as his mouth circled my clit.

“Keep suckin’ me…Harda’,” Pete commanded, drawing my attention away from the incredible feeling that Tyler was providing me.

“Look at him, eatin’ you out,” Pete petted my hair “He seems like he might know what he’s doin’ there….But I’m betta at it…You’ll find that out, eventually.”

I drew him into my mouth again and he sank down, pushing all of him down my throat. He threw his head back, his eyes practically rolling into his skull.

Tyler’s mouth started moving rapidly back and forth over my heat and I could feel my thighs literally almost dripping. He drew my clit between his teeth, then darted his tongue out over it.

“Oh!” I moaned, forcing Pete out of my mouth.

Instead, I moaned and sighed as I licked the head of his dick, the sensations from Tyler getting stronger.

“Tyler,” I whimpered, my hot breath hitting the tip of Pete’s dick.

“Don’t say his name when you’re lookin’ at me,” Pete gripped my cheeks between his hand.

“Pete,” I gasped, as he reached down and rolled my nipples under his palm.

He held my face in place, my eyes on him as I felt myself start to cum underneath Tyler’s tongue.

“Cum, that’s it,” Pete laughed “Look at ya, Tyla’. Doin somethin’ good for a change.”

Tyler sucked me even more punishingly into his mouth and my hips bucked into his face.

I broke my face away from Pete’s hands to stare down at Tyler, his tongue flicking out to tease my clit as the aftershocks spasmed beneath it.

“Come ‘ere,” Pete grabbed me, pulling me up and spinning me to face him.

I could feel Tyler’s arms wrap around me from behind and I slid my arm up to wrap around his neck, pulling his mouth to meet mine.

“You already blew your load, Tyla’,” Pete, jerked me toward him “How ‘bout you leave us be?”

“No,” I shook my head “I want him to watch you fuck me…Like you watched him.”

“Watch and learn, playboy,” Pete winked sarcastically at Tyler, before he flipped me around again and bent me over.

My face was pressed to the mattress at Tyler’s knees and I felt Pete glide his way inside me from behind. His hand slapped down hard on my ass and I moaned against Tyler…What little I could reach of him. Then I felt him lift my face up with his hands and he pressed his forehead against mine.

“Stare at ‘em,” Pete chuckled “Look at ‘em real good. Cause after this, you’re gonna want me to be the one to fuck you foreva’.”

“Spank her again,” Tyler growled, his eyes not leaving mine.

I felt a rush that Tyler was being so bold and I grinned menacingly at him. Pete’s hand came down on my ass again and I yelped, as Tyler’s lips caught mine.

“She needs to be punished for fuckin’ ya behind ma’ back,” Tyler growled when we pulled away from each other.

Pete spanked me again and I squealed even louder.

“She did tha right thing,” Pete started pounding harder into me.

Tyler kissed me again, his tongue circling mine with so much pressure than it literally took my breath. Only when I felt my orgasm start to build, did I pull my mouth away to breathe.

Pete was sliding right against my g-spot with every thrust….And he knew it.

“Shit,” I grimaced, gripping the mattress.

“You look pretty when you cum,” Tyler smiled, as he stroked my cheeks with his thumbs.

“Fuck!’ Pete grunted, pulling out and flipping me under him.

“Pete!” I gasped from surprise.

“You’re gonna look at me when you cum,” he growled, as he spread my legs open even wider.

Tyler stood over us, watching my face. His hand lightly stroked his dick.

“Pete,” I whimpered, “I can’t take much more.”

“You’ll be sore for a week,” he nipped at my mouth “Then I can have you again.”

“Shut up, Dunne,” Tyler spat.

“I wanna cum,” I grabbed Pete’s face “Please, please…”

He thrust again and this time, he hit the exact spot I needed. I clenched down around him and he smiled with satisfaction as I wriggled beneath him.

“Oh shit,” I gasped “Just like that, please.”

He kept brushing my spot until I settled.

“Aren’t I nice to let you cum first?” he started pounding into me.

A few seconds later and he pulled out, his cum hitting my thighs.

I didn’t know what to do. I was spent, sore. My mind was spinning. I had the two men I was most attracted to, that I cared the most for, that I depended on…Right there in my room. Naked and more than willing to do everything to please me. They had done more than that. They had made me even more confused than ever.

“You think about this tonight,” Tyler leaned over and licked at my ear.

“You think about who fucked you betta,” Pete slid on his pants.

“But,” I sighed, sitting up on the bed “You’re both leaving?”

“Do you want me to leave?” Tyler questioned, in a far softer tone than I expected.

“No,” I shook my head.

Pete snarled in our direction.

“I don’t want you to go either,” I quickly let him know.

Tyler climbed back on the bed, in only his boxers and eased his way down to the pillow. He beckoned me with his hand and I dropped down beside him, allowing him to spoon me facing away from him.

I reached out my hand to Pete. He stared at it for a moment. I knew that cuddling, especially in this situation, was asking a lot.

“Just sleep here,” I whispered, my eyes getting tired.

He groaned, but finally relented. He climbed into bed in his shorts with his t-shirt in his hand.

“Put this on,” he ordered me and I raised up long enough to slide it on over my head.

He lay in front of me, his eyes staring at me, as Tyler cuddled against me from behind.

[fantasysuiteleague]

Week 2 Recap: The Three Ds

Is it just me or does it always seems like The Bachelorette gets a shitty draw of contestants? Each year there are at most 3 guys I would take home to meet my parents, maybe one worth actually marrying, and the rest are all that terrible guy you see on TV and hope you never meet in real life. They only care about themselves and what makes them look good or what will get them the most screen time. This season, with its new colors and Blachelorette, is no different. At most we’ve added an extra amount of swagger, but with that swagger comes an added level of douchebaggery that leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

D is for Doggo

This episode highlighted 3 of the worst people we’ve met since Chad, and one precious angel who is too pure to be around any of this mess. That’s right, I’m talking about Copper. That precious baby with the broken toe who stole Bachelor Nation’s heart. Not only did he get his own limo entrance, but he also went on the first and best 1-on-1 date of the season, accompanying Rachel and Peter to a DOG PARTY. I can’t say I paid much attention to Rachel and Peter, as I was focused solely on Copper and all the ways I could pet him and be his best friend.

The only thing I took away from the 1-on-1 date was that Peter and Rachel bonded over the gap in their teeth, and that Rachel doesn’t seem to mind that Peter is dead in the eyes. Something’s off about him, but it looks like he’ll stick around for awhile so I’ll come back to him when the meat isn’t as fresh.

D is for Douchebags

The first group date of the season is very on-brand for the Bachelorette: a low key picnic with ... an obstacle course and celebrity sighting. The picnic is set up in what I assume to be a vacant lot three spaces down from the Bachelor mansion, where everyone takes turns grilling and playing touch football. Right off the bat it’s hard not to focus on the douche of the century, Whaboom. Everything he does is for attention. He pushes other guys around so he can be the “first” to say hi to Rachel, he obnoxiously dances around the football, shouts constantly, and even picks Rachel up at one point and spins her around like a Disney Princess. It’s not hard to see that Lucas is, in the words of Blake: garbage. The other guys question his personality traits and whether he’s here for the right reasons simply because he is TERRIBLE.  He’s not even trying to fight with anyone, he’s just being himself, which is absolute garbage. Fun fact: My friend was in the same frat as Whaboom at Berkley and said that he is, hands down, the absolute worst person he has ever met in his life—next to his twin brother.  That’s right, there are two of these assholes. 

He also told me that Lucas was constantly trying to be the center of attention and was always making loud obnoxious jokes or trying to steal the stage but NO ONE thought he was funny. Some quick sleuthing on the interwebs brought me to his IMDB page, which honestly says it all. I mean, a 2012 Spanish dating show? God what a fucking loser. But his “rival” Blake is no better, and we need to unpack both of these shitty bags of garbage to really get down to their trash core. In a voice-over, Blake mentions that he knows Whaboom and is the only person that can “ruin this” for him. Well first of all, Whaboom doesn’t need anyone’s help ruining anything. Second, Blake knows the true garbage nature of Whaboom because they were both on a trashy reality TV dating show hosted by Carmen Electra. Yep, that’s right. Garbage, meet Garbage. Oh, you already met on the Ex-Isle? Perfect. Let’s skip the pleasantries, and the entire obstacle course while we’re at it. That way we can also skip over Blake whining the entire time that Lucas is cheating and not following directions, and Lucas winning then attempting to get Ashton Kutcher to yell “whaboom.” To literally everyone’s relief, Ashton politely passes on the offer, as he should have with My Boss’s Daughter / Just Married / Killers / basically all movies he’s ever done.

No really, name a good Ashton Kutcher movie. You can’t, because there are none. Anyway, since Whaboom won the competition he got the first 1-on-1 time with Rachel. Blake takes this opportunity to let everyone know that, to the extent they hadn’t figured it out yet, Whaboom is a douchebag. Blake, it is the first fucking week. Chill the fuck out man. When Lucas gets back to the perfectly stirred pot, he’s confronted with the question of our generation: how do you identify yourself? The correct answer, of course, was garbage, but we would have also accepted trash. Speaking of trash, Blake continues his crusade against Whaboom by informing Rachel that, to the extent she is both blind and deaf, Lucas is just a clown here for TV exposure. Like any guy NOT trying to get TV exposure, Blake then goes and tells Lucas that he just spent his time with Rachel letting her know that Whaboom is wearing makeup and is here for the wrong reasons. 

At this point it’s pretty clear that Blake is also here for the wrong reasons and obsessed with Lucas, who may or may not be totally wasted. It’s hard to tell, because he’s just that terrible. In the end, Whaboom walks away the winner of this confrontation after he tells Blake he’s going to do “him” and that Blake is “dismissed.” Point, Garbage. I can’t really tell you what else happened on this date due to the overpowering stench of Garbage, but everyone else was so boring that the 20-year-old Ricky Fowler look alike, Dean, got the group date rose. Good for you, Dean.

D is for Drama

The second group date the guys get a considerably better draw with a game of pick up basketball monitored by Kareem Abdul Jabar. DeMario is the focus of this date, which I wanted to attribute to his charisma fuckboi charm and casual ability to dunk a basketball. But something doesn’t feel right about this spotlight and even though deep down I know why, I think and hope that maybe, just maybe, it’s not him. It’s like when you’re watching a Law & Order SVU episode and it’s definitely the dad, but it feels way too obvious to actually be the dad, so instead you convince yourself its the neighbor but like, it was always the dad.  It was always DeMario. Always. You don’t get this kind of attention in a group date when there are previews of a scorned lover confronting her man unless it’s your scorned lover. Enter Lexi, the girl who DeMario was allegedly fucking days before he went on ATFR and met Rachel. Before she even opened her mouth I could tell from her eyebrows that this girl was trash and was ready to shamelessly take down the Big D. The build up to this drama is great. After being summoned by Rachel, DeMario is convinced he’s getting the rose and walks gleefully back into the gym talking about what he learned playing the game until he saw cash me ousside girl waiting for him.

DeMario’s face quickly goes from happy to freaked out to “confused.” He immediately launches into fuckboi defensive mode and makes a series of moves that only digs him deeper into the pit of despair.

Move 1: Pretend like you have no idea who this girl is and that you’ve never seen her before. Obviously this is NOT the right way to go, but you have to give him partial credit if only because I would also deny knowing (let alone fucking) someone that trashy. This obviously doesn’t work as she’s tracked him down, so it’s on to the next move.

Move 2: This girl is fucking crazy, and we met “many many times ago.” Um, what? Thankfully Rachel is smarter than to buy into the “she’s crazy” excuse that’s constantly applied to women by the patriarchy. Instead, she asks for clarification on what “many times ago” means, and at this point the Big D starts to sweat.

Move 3: Claim that this is personal stuff that we should handle off-camera. This was an obvious misstep that sent Lexi into a rage about unanswered text messages and fucking her 2 days before he went on ATFR. Rachel keeps it classy, however, pointing out that this is also her personal life so DeMario really needs to explain himself.

Move 4: Admit he dated her, but claim that he broke up with her because she was “too much” to handle, circling back to the old “she’s crazy” thesis. DeMario tries to suggest that he broke up with Lexi face to face, but then Lexi starts shouting about how he still has her keys... 

Move 5: Keys? What keys? I don’t  have your keys..... Oh, wait. I actually mailed them back to you. As if this mother fucker has ever been to the post office. At this point DeMario has to know that he’s totally fucked and should probably just leave before he says anything else. But he doesn’t. Instead, he continues trying to downplay what Lexi is saying until finally Rachel tells him he’s not making any sense and she just wants to know when was the last time he saw Lexi.

Check: Lexi stops swearing on her kittens’ lives long enough to offer up the receipts to prove not just her side of the story, but the exact date and time when Demario was last in and out of her...apartment. Before Rachel accepts any documents into evidence, she gives DeMario one last chance to say literally anything that isn’t a lie and asks if the dates on Lexi’s phone will match his story or hers....

Move 6: It depends on the dates...

Checkmate: Finally at the end of her rope, Rachel takes Lexi’s phone (which I imagine smells like cigarettes) and reads the standard fuckboi texts we all knew DeMario sent. Rachel calmly informs DeMario that she is not here to be played or to be made a joke of, so he can get the fuck out.

In the aftermath of the DeMario drama everyone starts whispering about how DeMario was obviously not there for the right reasons when, in reality, they are all there for the same reason: fame. DeMario was just sloppier about it. The remaining guys on the date all use this as an opportunity to let Rachel know they’re there “for her” and will “protect her” from this kind of behavior. Josiah flexes his protection muscles the most with his... creepy side eye stare and ends up getting the group date rose. We don’t get too far into the cocktail party before the ghost of DeMario comes knocking at the gates of The Bachelor mansion to prove once and for all that D is for determination dumbass.

Did you notice . . .

Ashton knew when he “first saw” Mila that they would get married ... after he married Demi Moore and played dad for a few years, of course.

“This is not a show. When I want to turn it on, I turn it off. When I want to turn it off, I turn it off.” - ummm that’s a show, Lucas.

Curious that Lucas and Blake hate each other so much yet look like pals in this picture from 2016....(also, the hastags...)

“I check my mailbox every day.” - Lexi, lol.

OF COURSE her name is Lexi with an I.

I could do without Alex’s singing, especially as it’s likely a trigger for the Russian Manchurian Candidate, Jared Kushner.

Minority Report: The most embarrassing part of the whole DeMario saga is that before the Bachelorette he was dating white trash like Lexi.

[big-stupid-jellyfish]

man, why is there so much words to say about some stupid kids

part 1, part 2

3,5 words, bnha, still unrated and painfully unedited,  kirishima, bakugou, other kids, mortal kombat as plot device, some descriptions of abusive parents, etc

mmmmmaybe it’s time to put this on ao3 or something but fuck no, i am not ready to edit any of this or come up with a name, or figure out the chapters outta this mess, really

There was another videogame night at dormitory.

Tetsutetsu found some worthy competitors among their class, or at least that's what Bakugou got. He knew about this because this time Kirishima invited him. After brief consideration (and a good look at Kirishima's hopeful expression) Bakugou accepted the invitation.

There wasn't any reason for him to get involved into this kind of thing, but at some subconscious level Bakugou understood that a "why the fuck not" was as good reason as any. Social contacts before he moved into the school dormitory were almost exclusively out of necessity, rarely a pleasant business for him, the only satisfaction he got from which was victory - over something, anything. There was something slightly intriguing in how these highly competitive kids that were gathered in U.A. also willingly spent time together.

It was also rare for him to not be in the center of attention. Bakugou didn't like it, his instincts screaming to stand out, to have every pair of eyes on him, to prove he is worthy of the spotlight. He learned to appreciate the good observation point that the sidelines made, and he was making notes on the information he got on other people that couldn't have been obtained from his favorite method of learning, direct confrontation.

He clinged to these points to save himself from realizing that maybe, just a little, this whole thing was kind of fun.

He wasn't even particularly annoyed at occasional case of dumbassery or even presence of Todoroki. The latter seemed to be in similar position to Bakugou, quietly sitting in the chair by himself, observing the group and the game with his freaky cold eyes. For all his declarations of how he wasn't there to make friends, Todoroki was impressively bad at not socializing with his classmates in a friendly manner.

Bakugou kind of hoped he didn't start giving off the same impression of an impossible loser as Todoroki.

After a while, when the game mechanics were more or less absorbed by Bakugou's sharp mind, his thoughts turned to Kirishima, as if gravitating towards him. He seemed truly in his element in the group of his friends, loud and bragging about his skills and victories, but at the same time subtle and filling between the sharp edges of the people here.

Bakugou wondered how much of his classmates' friendliness towards each other was actually Kirishima's doing, and how much they weren't even aware of that. Was Kirishima himself aware of that effect he had on them? Watching how Kirishima calmly talked Tetsutetsu down from fuming at Kaminari who tried to recharge the controller with his quirk without watching his output, absorbing the negative emotions and turning them into smiles and jokes, Bakugou concluded that he knew very well what he was doing.

This felt almost relaxing, to know that personality crashes were being actively smoothed down by someone like Kirishima. Bakugou didn't care about chaos he frequently caused by simply being himself around people - but he found he didn't mind the absence of it.

He tried to distract himself from thinking about his classmate, suddenly uncomfortable for no reason, and turned his attention back to the matches. Currently, Uraraka, under Ashido's guiding, apparently, was kicking Sero's ass. It was somewhat painful to watch.

"Block low, holy shit," Bakugou muttered to himself. Uraraka seemed to deploy the ancient and very effective technique of button mashing, obviously new to the game herself and incapable of performing juggling combos that were hard to break from. Sero just needed to find the block button already.

"He'll get hit with overheads immediately," Todoroki suddenly answered him.

Bakugou didn't mind distractions from thinking about Kirishima, but he minded Todoroki.

"What the fuck do you know? You don't even play," Bakugou glared at him. Those complicated moves of mixed up hits were pure luck on Uraraka's side, and that seemed like a reasonable margin of failure.

"Yeah, you don't play either, Bakugou," Sero grinned to himself. Bakugou noticed he followed the advice, to Uraraka's dismay.

He also noticed Kirishima paying attention to them now, ready to intervene.

Uraraka broke through Sero's defenses with an overhead hit and claimed the victory. For some reason she decided to glare at Bakugou with a frown, as if he was somewhat hindering with her game instead of pointing out the obvious things.

"I think this dispute should be resolved in a friendly match of Mortal Kombat," Kirishima declared, waving at Sero and Uraraka to get up. Next thing Bakugou knew was that he was sitting in Uraraka's place, controller shoved in his hands, and next to him was Todoroki, in the same position with the same puzzled look.

"Watch out your quirks, you jerks," Tetsutetsu said, ever worried for the state of his console and controllers, but much less livid about either Bakugou or Todoroki than ever.

"I never played this kind of game," Todoroki said, slight change of his even tone indicating shyness. He was examining the controller buttons as if this was a snake.

"Mash the buttons, sometimes you'll get it right," Kaminari said, taking place by him, while Kirishima sat on the sofa handle next to Bakugou.

"Before that, basics," Kirishima said. "This part is movement, this part is hits, this is block, like that you grab," he quickly went through the sets of buttons on the controller in Bakugou's hands. "The rest is up to the characters you pick."

Bakugou couldn't care less about actually playing or what character to pick and everything else, but he was pitted against Todoroki of all people - the only worse case scenario would be to be set up against Deku. The concept of backing off ceased to exist.

"I don't give a fuck. This one," he grumbled and pointed at the very first fighter. Some ninja again.

For some reason, this choice was met with giggles.

"Scorpion! Oh my god it fits," Kirishima openly laughed. "He is angry and sets people on fire," he explained under Bakugou's hard look. Unspoken "Just like you" followed.

"Can I pick something fitting as well?" Todoroki played along to the nonsense.

More giggling.

"Yeah, you're looking at your fit," Kirishima was unambiguously enjoying this. "Sub-Zero, freezes people and makes tea."

More giggles. Todoroki looked pleased.

"A fated fight between the rival clans," Kaminari exclaimed dramatically as they went through the boring intro scene and looked through movesets with Kirishima raving about some combos and Tetsutetsu butting in with his own advises. To Bakugou's relief Todoroki seemed to be as confused as him about what was so funny about their fight.

First thrity seconds or so went quite horribly, both boys unfamiliar with controls and not having a slightest clue how the buttons they pressed corresponded to the movements on the screen. It was enough for Bakugou to have a displeased scowl on his face, ready to throw the controller away, but oddly nobody minded them being clunky with the game, cheering on the occasional move being successfully pulled off.

Bakugou wouldn't say he understood the hype over watching a shitty fighting match.

"Button mashing is pretty fucking boring," he said after two rounds. He won the first one, Todoroki won the second one, and it pained Bakugou to look at how gracelessly and ineffectively both did it. He could consider this fun only on two conditions being fulfilled simultaneously: him winning and him being good at winning.

Todoroki seemed to have some complicated emotion about this, as well, but Bakugou was out of patience of guessing what, given that generally Todoroki's expressions were a game of "spot the difference in two completely identical pictures".

"It just takes some practice," Kirishima replied, nonchalant. "Do you mind?" He directed the question at Todoroki, to which he nodded, without needing further explanations, and Kirishima slid off the handle to take place behind the sofa. "With some practice you can pull off something like that," suddenly, Bakugou heard that in his ear as he felt Kirishima's hands on both of his sides, placing them on the controller over Bakugou's.

Kirishima started pressing buttons over Bakugou's fingers and, judging from the hitting noises from the display, that connected, but Bakugou found himself staring at Kirishima instead of the fight. He was close, bangs of the ruffled hair touching Bakugou's face, grin so bright that it was a little blinding in such close proximity. Kirishima looked proud, showing off, and it probably would be for the best to turn and look at what he was showing Bakugou, but he found himself unable to do so.

"Ah! Dropped it," Kirishima exclaimed, face lively with emotions, and pouted for a second. "Thirty five percent, though, not bad!" Another smile full of sharp teeth and some warm emotion Bakugou couldn't name. "Then you can do this," Kirishima said, eyes glued to the screen, still unaware of how little attention the game was getting. Bakugou blinked, unsure how to process what he was feeling.

He wanted to tell Kirishima to knock it off, that he didn't need this patronizing attitude, but he was stuck in this Kirishima-gazing. So many of his thoughts were dedicated to this idiot lately, Bakugou was belatedly realizing, he recognized the tiny shifts of his expressions now, the concentrated frown oh these funnily looking eyebrows, jaw jutted forward as he was pulling off something amazing on the screen - Bakugou wouldn't know, he was too preoccupied with watching Kirishima's feautures relaxing into a victorious smile.

"See? That wasn't that hard," Krisihima pumped his fist in the air and now grinned /at him/, and yeah, how did intruding his personal space become such a problem for Bakugou?

"I see," Bakugou said flatly, feeling his ears burning, betraying his facade, acutely aware of Kirishima's hand gripping his shoulder while the other one was on the controller over his own.

It took him hearing snickering around him to snap out of this weird state, and suddenly he remembered about existence of other people. Todoroki was the first one to resume existing in Bakugou's world, and the bastard pointedly looked at the screen, face perfectly void of any emotions which was an indication good enough that he noticed. Then, Uraraka came into his line of sight, and she was doing that thing with her eyebrows that resembled caterpillars mating.

/Then/ there was Ashido giggling and Tetsutetsu asking what happened, and that was enough.

"This shit is not worth investing time into," he said and got up, hearing a light-hearted "Fair enough" from Kirishima. His heart was pounding with emotions as Bakugou tried to pound them back, risking to explode them all.

Without other words, he left the common area, in sore need of solitude and space to think.

* * *

Kirishima was in this hiding spot again, back pressed hard against the fence. He felt like he couldn't breathe, not with Yaoyorozu's hand on his chest like that, not with Midoriya petrified by his side.

Why couldn't he breathe? He was allowed to do that. He wasn't allowed to be there, to reach out to his classmate in trouble, he was not allowed to fight. He was allowed to breathe.

Kirishima forced a gulp of air into his lungs with a sob, and it didn't help.

There were noises - the fight broke out, and the terrifying presence of this unnamed somebody was diluted with chaos of the battle. Kirishima heard voices - of heroes, concerned, careful, of villains, crazed and unintelligible. The oppressive atmosphere exploded - that was the sound of Bakugou fighting, desperate and furious.

Bakugou was not allowed to fight either, Kirishima thought, but what other choice did he have? What other choice did /they/ have?

Suddenly, Kirishima was lying in a bed, in a room that might have been his. What happened? Was it over? Did they get everyone out? He couldn't breathe again, fist clutching his t-shirt against his chest. He tried to fight this paralyzing helplessness, aware enough to realize that was a dream (another bad one), but did they got everyone out? Was Bakugou okay? If he went and checked Bakugou's room, would he find him there?

Kirishima woke up fully in the exact moment as he banged on Bakugou's door, loud and desperate.

He took a step back, movements still stalled from the sleepiness, almost tripping on the blanket he took with him again, and thought if the situation was still salvageable if he just went to his room, hoping he didn't wake his classmate up.

The door opened, putting an end to Kirishima's cowardly thoughts of retreat as he was faced with Bakugou's displeased expression and the urgent need to find words that would resolve this situation. He didn't find any, not in this short time, so he just stood there, wrapped in his blanket, feeling dumb.

Bakugou scowled and, after a pause, stepped from the doorframe and made an inviting gesture. Surprised, Kirishima followed him inside the room.

In confusion, Kirishima watched Bakugou promptly falling on his bed, not paying the late intruder attention. After some consideration of what to do, still at loss of words, he sat on the floor next to the bed.

"Nightmare again?"

Kirishima startled at the question.

"Bad dream," he corrected Bakugou stubbornly. "Sorry to wake you up," he finally said, rubbing his eyes, and- hell no, they weren't wet, were they?

"I wasn't sleeping."

"Oh."

Kirishima wondered why. The atmosphere in the room was weird, and he wasn't sure if he could attribute that solely to the late hour. He tried to not get too comfy with his blanket, feeling it would've been pretty stupid to fall asleep on the floor. Bakugou was quiet on his bed, silence uncomfortable and thick between them.

This day, Bakugou's parents visited him. Kirishima caught a glimpse of them and overheard everything else too well for his liking. It was somewhat expected for Bakugou have relatives as explosive as him. What Kirishima didn't expect and wasn't prepared for was the sheer animosity he felt from Bakugou's mother towards her own son when she demanded from him to introduce Kirishima to her. Nonchalant smiles on both parents' faces weren't really making up for the harsh words they used.

He played it safe, bowing as deep as he could, speaking as respectfully as he could - and all that got him was a praise from Bakugou's parents at expense of his son.

"So nice to see a boy who knows how to make a good impression," Bakugou's father smiled warmly. "I hope our Katsuki doesn't give you too much trouble to deal with, given his lack of manners."

Bakugou glared at his father with a deep scowl.

"Not at all!" Kirishima waved his hands before him, gesture defensive and calming, even though the adults before him were smiling at him. "It's always good to work in team with Bakugou! He's smart and strong." He smiled sincerily. He hoped it worked.

"Cut the crap, kid, you don't have to flatter him just because he's a loud-mouthed and spoiled brat," Bakugou's mother said, and the words sent chills down Kirishima's spine. What in the world was /wrong/ with these people?

He looked briefly at Bakugou in that moment, asking silently for any kind of hint of what to do. Bakugou's expression was eloquent: it told him to run. Kirishima excused himself, making up a pile of homework he needed to do and retreating to his room.

He hadn't done any homework that day, walls between his and Bakugou's room not too thick to drown all the yelling. It was impossible to make out the words most of the time, though, and in a sense, it was a blessing.

So much for being "good with people".

"What did you see in your bad dream?"

Kirishima snapped out of his thoughts, his mind returning to the room of his classmate he was dozing off in. Bakugou's question caught him off guard.

"I told you already," he said, ruffling his hair. "Just me and the others, hiding and feeling helpless as the others were fighting."

All these thoughts and memories weren't really helpful in dissipating the morose mood. Now, Kirishima thought, he also had a good chance to be laughed at for being such a wuss.

"Why the hell does it bother you so much?"

If Kirishima knew himself, then it wouldn't pose such an issue for him.

He heard Bakugou's frustrated sigh.

"You still went for it, didn't you? All those fucking rules of not involving yourself be damned." Funnily, Bakugou took the lack of response for invitation to explain his question better.

"Yeah, only after Midoriya came up with a working plan," Kirishima shrugged, too caught up in his anxious post-nightmare state to hear the subtle praise in Bakugou's voice. "Before that, I just realized that I dragged my friends into a situation with no idea how to get you out. Everyone was fighting, except us. You were fighting, too," he added, needing Bakugou to know how much difference that made.

The silence that followed was loaded with emotions too heavy to process this deep into the night.

"Why did you come for me?"

Kirishima blinked.

"I couldn't sit there and do nothing while my friend was kidnapped," he muttered, thinking about how instead of that, he got to the place where things were happening and would be doing nothing /there/ if not for Midoriya's plan. "That was worse than... now, I guess." He meant his current dreams of helplessness.

A pause.

"What, no second thoughts about me maybe switching sides?"

At that, hearing the veiled sneer in the question, Kirishima turned to see his classmate. Bakugou was lying on his back, hands under his head, pretendingly relaxed. When he heard Kirsihima moving, he side-eyed him, expression unreadable.

Somehow, this sight helped to read the atmosphere better. This weird feeling of peacefulness in the room was fake. Bakugou seemed calm, emotions muted, no outbursts, no insults.

Except Kirishima saw Bakugou actually maintaining calmness in the midst of his outbursts, like an eye of the storm, successfully harnessing his emotions, reckless just enough to be more efficient. He was skilled in controlling his rage, making it serve him just like he used his explosions to gain him superior mobility. What Kirishima was seeing was Bakugou being subdued, extinguished. Upset even, maybe.

He wondered why Bakugou even let him see him like that.

"Dude, these guys were idiots for thinking that you are villain material. Don't imply that anyone who actually knows you is /this/ stupid," Kirishima tried to keep his tone even to match his words, harsh and true. Now that he realized how unwell Bakugou looked, he wanted to fix that. He guessed that as with everything involving Bakugou, the methods would be unconventional.

Kirishima heard a surprised chuckle, and counted that as a win.

"And really, even if anyone /would/ have these second thoughts, seeing you fight these guys would be enough to smash these thoughts into pieces," Kirishima added for a good measure. He knew that Bakugou was paying attention to his words now, and it seemed fitting to express his admiration for Bakugou's strength in this moment. He felt warmness in his chest as he was saying that.

"Seems like some people are that fucking stupid," Bakugou said, voice finally colored with some emotions.

Kirishima took that piece of information close to heart, examining it.

"Like your parents?" He took the bite, hoping very hard that he made the wrong assumption.

Except that it made sense - Bakugou's parents' attitude, him being uncharacteristically quiet, as if drained, these weird questions, and the most telling of all, silence that followed this reply. Righteous fury flared in him.

"They had teachers' word that I didn't go to them willingly," Bakugou finally said, voice steady with contained anger that Kirishima was familiar with. "Still fucking rubbed it in my eyes like that was necessary."

"No offense, but your parents do sound stupid."

"No shit."

"And they thought I would lie to flatter you!" Kirishima couldn't help mentioning it. He turned to see Bakugou again, to articulate how much that bothered him properly. Bakugou had a strange expression on his face, looking as if he was biting down some mean remark, strangely vulnerable.

"I don't wanna talk about them anymore," he sighed and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Okay," Kirishima still sounded indignant, but he dropped the topic, looking straight ahead of him once again.

This time the silence was more comfortable. Kirishima liked the change of the mood, glad - even relieved - to actually do something to mend Bakugou's miserable state, and without tripping the landmines of his classmate's ego, it seemed. It felt important to let Bakugou know that he was willing to help him out whenever he needed, that he could rely on Kirishima.

Before Kirishima could come up with words he desperately wanted to say, unsure of this urgent need to do so, he heard Bakugou's breath calming down. He turned to Bakugou for the third time and saw him fast asleep.

"Yeah, good idea," Kirishima muttered to himself quietly and got up to leave, convincing himself that they could talk like that again later, feeling hopeful, looking forward to it.