#look en- needs to improve

[ujunxverse]

also ppl need to STOP hyping lsf up they’re cute but… that coachella performance… there were good moments and they have potential but they’re clearly not ready for such a big stage 😭 like if u put their performance side by side w ateez or even blackpink i’m sorry but they got BODIED only chaewon did well 😭

[drowsymachine]

i need to get better at accepting constructive criticism honestly, and any advice in general tbh. ive got to stop seeing someone genuinely trying to be helpful as some attack/slight against me

[hoennislands]

No one asked but out of all of them, my favorite Reiwa Three Musketeers has to be Shota… I think he’s improving really well and I love when he gets a little attitude <3

He definitely has some ways to go and needs to get rid of that damn jacket and become his own person frrr. Once that happens I think he’ll be good

I also think he needs better entrance gear than the white fluffy and some deep conditioner <3

[rad-batson]

The Batkids and The Arts (Feral Edition)

They’re all musical theatre nerds. Every single one of them. Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, Tim, Duke, Damian. They go see Broadway shows together then don’t stop talking about it for like a week. It is the one bonding activity they will never pass up.

Jason and Steph once entered a ballroom dancing competition and won after some pompous rich kids insulted their moves during a gala. Since then, they’ve entered a competition every month or so just for fun. (And for the prize money :P)

Tim is an avid believer that Culinary Art is one of The Arts. (Can he cook? Absolutely not. It was Bernard that convinced him, but he stands by it.)

Duke talks through every single movie he watches. He always promises to be quiet at the beginning, but then he gets too excited and whispers commentary to the people around him. This habit has since bled into the entire family. They are no longer welcome at the local AMC.

Every single one of them is pretentious about something.

Dick is pretentious about any and all performance arts featured at the circus. Once, someone made a joke about going to “Clown School” and Dick screamed at them about how not even their pinky would have the privilege of being admitted into clown school.

Jason is pretentious about classic literature. They can no longer tell if his jokes and references to Shakespeare and Jane Austen are correct or if he’s just fucking with them.

Cass gets pretentious about martial arts being a performance art. She is also pretentious about ballet being a martial art. She could kill a man in fifth position without losing her balance, and that’s a fucking fact.

Stephanie is very good at acting pretentious about the arts. She absorbs everything she’s learned from the rest of the bat family’s interests then pretends to be pretentious about it to mock them while sneaking in just enough correct information so no one can call her out on it. (Her true interest is graphic design.)

Tim has no professional experience with photography, but he will be pretentious about it like he knows everything. (Bruce: Tim, why is there a filter on this evidence photo you took? Tim: I thought it looked nicer that way. Really makes the blood splatter pop.)

Duke isn’t exactly pretentious about writing, but he will lay down his life for the Oxford comma. (Bruce didn’t use it until Duke called the punctuation in his mission reports “insulting.” He now uses it.)

Damian is pretentious about studio art. If he ever hears his family or friends say, “I don’t get it,” at an art museum, he will make them look at it for five minutes as he explains in painstaking detail what’s so revolutionary about it.

The kids decided to take an improv class together once for their undercover work while Bruce and Alfred were out of town. It was so fun that they still play improv games when they’re bored.

Cass is secretly a metalhead.

Whenever one of the younger kids needs to write an English paper, they will just walk up to Jason, riddle off a dumb opinion about the book or poem they had to read, and record whatever Jason ends up lecturing them about. The most recent incident resulted in an award-winning paper about how the theory that William Shakespeare never wrote his own work is deeply rooted in classism.

Damian always has paint under his nails. It just never comes out.

Dick has personally taught everyone in the family how to do The Perfect Backflip. They all get a little ceremony once they’ve mastered it. There is cake.

Whenever Cass is standing around with nothing to do, she’ll practice her foot positions for ballet. The others always notice and follow her lead.

Jason: dramatically recites a poem in the living room Steph: starts beatboxing

Steph is always the first to find typos or continuity errors in a book, play, or movie. She doesn’t intend to; it’s just second nature to her. (She is now Duke’s official proofreader.)

Duke: So how’d you like the movie? Damian: I really loved the mise-en-scène, especially during the breakfast scene and that one shot near the end with the warehouse doors. Duke: *nods thoughtfully* Everyone Else Leaving the Theater: wtf is a meez on sen?

When Duke is finished writing something and wants to share it with his family, he’ll give it to Jason and Cass first.

Jason and Duke have frequent passionate arguments discussions about who is the best poet. Never bring up Dickinson, Poe, Shakespeare, Hughes, Plath, Wilde, Kipling, Sappho, or Angelou in their vicinity unless you want to start it up again.

Damian is surprisingly good at acting. Too good.

Dick knows your music taste before you do. He has a carefully curated playlist for every single family member, every possible combination of family members, and every possible mood at the ready.

They can and will correct anyone who mistakes Gothic architecture for Victorian or Gothic Revival and vice versa. (It’s really a Gotham thing.)

Tim: How dare you call The Grand Budapest Hotel the best prison break movie when it’s clearly The Shawshank Redemption! Jason: Well, as someone who’s BEEN TO PRISON, I think I should know! Dick: It’s clearly Chicken Run! You’re all just Chicken-ist. Duke: But what about Midnight Express?! That one’s so good! Steph: Has anyone mentioned Toy Story 3 yet? No? Damian, watching from the sidelines: I liked Escape from Alcatraz. Cass: Same.

There are several art pieces in the manor that have been positioned directly over top of bullet holes and other suspicious damages.

Damian and Duke made an animated short film once for the Gotham Film Festival. Dick and Cass were their models for the concept art. Tim did historical research. Jason helped Duke edit the storyboard, and Steph was the continuity supervisor. It was about a British super spy working for MI6 that saved the world in the late 70’s. It was titled Agent A.

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Projecting a little bit of childhood tramua, but imagine a teacher complaining that Benji's hair is "messy." Aka too curly for her liking cuz some teachers be assholes like that. Miguel is offended, and Mama goes full rabid on her, calling her to a teacher's conference over some dumb shit like this lol

Mama tells Benji that his hair isn't messy and his teacher is a puta. He's just a handsome curly boy 💕

Not. With. My. Benji. >:(

(To y'all curly babes out there, including me, Our hair is gorgeous ok? we gorgeous ❤️❤️)

Benjamin fiddled with his fingers, chewed the inside of his cheek and stole little glances here and there to you and Miguel. He didn't know if he was in trouble.

He had to tell you that one of his teachers wanted to speak directly with you and Miguel as soon as possible. He was a first grader, maybe she wanted to talk about about something to improve Benjamin's weakness in certain areas.

Miguel had taken a day to attend the meeting, teacher came in and Benjamin recoiled even further next to you, almost hiding behind you. You frowned.

"Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara, thank you for coming today." She started with a polite smile, you followed.

"Benjamin told us that there was something you needed to discuss with us. Is Benjamin doing ok?" Miguel spoke, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh yes. You see, Benjamin is a good student. He has a bit of trouble speaking loudly when it's required to. He's still a bit shy, but overall, he's good."

"Right, so," You stared at her as she looked with squinted eyes at Benjamin.

"Is there any real issues that needs to be addressed? It's fine if he's a bit shy, it's a new grade for him. New classmates, new experiences, it's normal to feel a bit overwhelmed."

"Correct. Look, we have this... image code that applies to everyone and I believe that Benjamin isn't following it."

She spoke and you and Miguel blinked at her words. Confused at first but a bad feeling sunk into your gut.

"What's wrong with Benjamin dress code?" Miguel expression hardened when Benji's hand held onto his sleeve, like saying 'stop'.

"It's not about the dress code but more his, image."

"There is nothing wrong with my son, Mrs. Charles." Miguel's brow rose, his arms crossing on his chest as you spoke. He'd usually would try and calm you to then get a less heated approach, dialogue. But this time he just watched, not liking one bit where this was going.

"Maybe if you could cut or comb his hair a bit-"

Miguel rose and placed his hands on his waist. The hulking figure had startled the teacher. Good.

"You made me skip a day of work just for you to say my son has messy hair and you don't like it?" He almost hissed the last words.

You finally understood why Benjamin had been spending some time looking himself in the mirror the last past days.

"Do you understand Spanish, Mrs. Charles?"

"I do, ma'am. This is... just-"

"A mi hijo lo respeta, señora. Muy maestra puede ser usted, y aún así le queda grande el puesto, pero con mi hijo no se meta." ( My son is to be respected, ma'am. You can be a teacher all you want and still you're unworthy to be one, but you won't mess with my son.)

Miguel picked up a very distressed Benjamin and left. Your spanish had improved considerably thanks to Miguel.

"Mi hijo pasa un buen rato viéndose al espejo por culpa suya. Y no le voy a permitir que esté proyectando sus inseguridades en él. Si vuelvo a saber que usted o que alguno de sus compañeros lo molestan, voy a tomar cartas en el asunto. ¿Entendió?" (My son spends a good amount of time looking himself in the mirror because of you. I won't allow you to project your insecurities on him. If I know of this again from you or that his classmates are pestering him because of it, I'm taking hands in the matter. Got it?)

You left the classroom with a slam on the door, didn't even let the teacher speak.

"Vieja puta." (Fucking Bitch)

Miguel held Benjamin tighter, covering his ears at your cursing.

"Who the fuck she think she is?! Making us waste our time." Benjamin rubbed his eyes, his nose was getting red, his reaction only made your anger to boil.

"Benjamin, baby?"

He looked at you as Miguel put him down.

"I need you to listen to me, okay mi amor?"

He nodded as you wiped his tears.

"There is nothing wrong with your hair, okay? Your hair is beautiful. And many other kids would give anything to have it."

He hiccuped.

Miguel kneeled and slicked his hair softly.

"Don't listen to her, champ. Probably the lady is just jealous you have more hair than her"

Benjamin couldn't help but giggle.

"What do we say at home, baby?"

"I am kind"

"Aha, what else?"

"My voice matters"

"Of course it does, Mi amor" You hugged him and peppered his face in kisses earning more giggles from him.

"And you are beautiful, okay. From these lovely bouncy curls, from these speedy feet, okay?

He nodded.

"Wanna go for an ice cream?"

Miguel put him on his back, his little legs dangling on his neck as you all left.

[taasgirl]

physical

summary: as barcelona's newest physio, y/n's job becomes increasingly difficult through language barriers and awkward encounters; until the guide of a few players assist her in navigating Spanish life.

author's note: i am not a spainish speaker so please don't attack me because this is all translated.

NOT PROOF READ. Sorry if there are any mistakes lol

Why did I ever move here? Although Spain is gorgeous, I miss Sydney far too much. And to even consider applying for a job as physio for Barcelona, delusional. But here I am.

Notes in hand, I make my way through the main building, approaching a desk occupied by two women.

"Hola, en qué puedo ayudarte?" The blonde one says, skimming my casual attire. "Hola, hablo no espanol." The woman straightens her posture and repeats her question, but this time in English. "Hello ma'am, what can I help you with?"

A deep breath, and I begin speaking, "Hi, I'm here for the role as general physio - I'm Y/N L/N." Quickly, the woman begins typing into her computer, skimming blurbs of information until she finds what she needs. "Welcome to the club Y/N, please take a seat while I contact the head physio." I nod in response and take a seat facing towards the television.

After around five minutes, a man appears from the corridor. "Y/N, Que tal! Please follow me." I leave my seat and follow my new coworker, Beau Martine. "How are you finding Spain?" I pick up on a French accent, pleased to not be the only non-Spanish person. "Ah. it's definitely an adjustment for me." I pause before continuing. "I thought I'd pick up on the language a little easier but I guess that's something that'll improve while I'm here." Beau opens a door, allowing me in first.

"Take it from me, it does get easier." A smile quirked the man's face, instantly calming some of my worries.

We're in a small, but manageable room. "This is your office Y/N." I take a look around, it's nothing flashy, simply a desk with two chairs and a cabinet. "It definitely needs some decorating, but here you will be completing paperwork and doing general admin." He continues "Your programmes and duties will not be run in here, but further down the hall in the recovery room." Beau points to the door, signalling a further examination of the building.

Walking a few meters, we enter a large room. Already, there are two physios, a man and woman, massaging and rehabbing players. I smile at them before Beau introduces me. "Saludos, this is Y/N, our new physio." Before the two could introduce themselves, Beau speaks, "Maylin and Christos are our recovery coaches, both specialising in post surgery recovery." They smile at me, while still attentively helping their patients.

"Training begins soon, so we'll head out to the fields to supervise the boys."

Once we arrived at the ground, I could feel the eyes of a few players, obviously aware of my lack of Barcelona gear, confused by my presence. Now, more than anything, I am grateful that I don't need an introduction. I am so totally okay with just standing and observing.

While another coach directs the warm up, I evaluate the players, concluding how absolutely beautiful some of them are.

I would be lying if I said that I hadn't watched edits of the players before-hand. But to me, that was simply all research. Throughout the session, my gaze found it's way back to a certain player. A certain player whose aura mesmerised me. Pedri.

Sharp but smart moves were a constant by him, and I was in awe by his calmness on and off the ball.

With about twenty minutes left, a player fell to the ground with a high pitched yelp. Immediately engaging Beau and myself to his aide. Looking down, it was Ferran Torres. He clutched his knee in agony.

I put my hand on his knee, evaluating any type of inflammation. "Vamos Ferran, vamos a llevarte adentro" (Come on Ferran, let's bring you inside). Beau and I helped him up, ensuring no pressure was put onto his affected leg.

Making our way into the recovery room Beau says to me "He's all yours, work your magic Y/N." I smile appreciatively at him while we lay Ferran down. Soon enough it's just Ferran and I, and I can feel my heart beating erratically.

I've never been this nervous to evaluate an injury before, so why do I feel as if I'm about to vomit everywhere?

Ferran, now completely quiet looks up at me. "You new here?" I nod in response, praying that he won't speak to me in Spanish. "I'm Ferran." He holds his hand out for me to shake. "I'm Y/N." His smile fades when he remembers his pain.

While I assess his knee, he continues with conversation. "Are you American?" I look at him, slightly unamused. "Not at all. Australian born and raised." I touch his knee causing a groan. "I know this hurts, but you've hyper-extended your knee."

"Joder." His only response. As I search for ice, he breaks the silence again. "You know, a few of the guys out there were calling you pretty." I look at him, slightly blushing. "I think it was Balde who said he'd get injured just so he could talk to you." My eyebrows raise. For such serious athletes, they sure do have interesting perspectives.

"Well I guess I should be lucky to be in here with someone who is actually injured." Ferran looks towards me. "So if you're a graduate physio, how old are you?" Almost instinctively I reply, "Twenty. I did accreditations for university while I was still in high school, so I was able to graduate before my peers." Impressed, Ferran tilts his head. "Hm, you're similar to Pepi's age." The next sentenced he mumbled, although I could perfectly understand what he said. "Probably his type too." I look up, pretending not to hear his additional comment.

"Who's Pepi?" At that exact moment, two players had walked into the room. "Joder Ferran, what happened?" Alejandro had walked over to his friend and immediately diverted his walk when he saw me.

"Ella es igual de hermosa de cerca." (She's just as beautiful up close.) I smiled nervously, not understanding a single word. Ferran responded, making Pedri blush "Es el tipo de Pepi." (She's Pepi's type.)

I've never once envied people for speaking Spanish, more than I feel right now.

"Sorry for their interruption, they're just a little curious." Ferran had said, playfully pushing Pedri. "Ale, Pepi, this is Y/N she's the new physio." Suddenly Alejandro gripped his hammy.

"Fuck I think I tore it." Instinctively I rushed to him. I went to feel his leg before he and the rest of the boys began laughing. "Just kidding querida." I awkwardly laughed before placing ice on Ferran's leg.

Ferran, Pedri, and Alejandro continued to talked while I scribbled an outline of Ferran's recovery. It would involve consultation regularly, with physical therapy to assist his knee. Luckily he wouldn't need surgery, which meant he was my patient for the next few weeks.

Walking to Ferran, I explained his recovery process. He would be out for a few weeks and wouldn't be kicking a ball for at least another two. He attentively listened, and by the time I had outlined what we would do in our meetings, Pedri and Alejandro were lifting him up. I helped the boys out, while making my way to my office to write an article of review.

After writing a page or so, a loud knock came to my door. "Come in."

In walked the head coach, Xavi. "Please, have a seat." I signalled to the seat opposing my desk, allowing him to sit down.

"Lovely to meet you Y/N." He smiled at me. "I know this is your first day, but here we follow tight procedures in terms of injury reduction and recovery." I nodded, allowing him to continue. "To my understanding, Ferran has hyper-extended his knee. And according to him, you've already began a recovery plan." Wait, was I not meant to do that? Fuck I should've talked to Beau first.

"If you have a plan, I'd like to see it." I turned my computer to face him. He skimmed what I had written. "This is great. You should be proud." Unknown to him, I had written plenty of recovery plans for hyper-extended knees. This was second nature to me. "Do you mind forwarding it to me? Here I'll write my Email and number down so you can contact me."

Camp Nou. It was stunning. The crowd, the lights, the atmosphere. All of it. I sat on the bench, next to Beau and Maylin, watching the game closely, ready for any disturbances in play.

Ferran, still sidelined smiled at me occasionally, it was good to know that I had a friend. His recovery had been going well, however I hadn't allowed him to begin running yet, it would put too much of a strain on his body.

It was an incredible game, close between the two teams, however, Barca was victorious after the ninetieth minute. Xavi huddled staff and players into a circle, giving a quick talk before the players went to the showers.

"¡Qué juego! Jugaste de manera excepcional, estoy orgulloso de este equipo." (What a game, you played exceptionally, I'm proud of this team!) God I needed to brush up on my Spanish if I had any hopes of understanding anything here. I looked forward, locking eyes with Pedri.

His hair was wet with sweat, his cheeks an adorable shade of pink. We held eye contact through Xavi's short speech, and I couldn't help but blush at the attention. He was just so gorgeous. By the time Xavi had finished his speech everyone dispersed. Walking away, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I realised it was Pedri.

"Hi." I shyly said. He smiled. God that smile was infectious. "Hey." We stood there for a few seconds until he began speaking. "A few of us are going out tonight to celebrate the win. I was wondering if you'd like to join us."

"Oh." I replied "I'm sorry but I'm going out tonight." It was true. I had agreed to go out for drinks with my barista. To me it was less of a date, and more of an attempt to make friends. "No problem. I'll see you around." He awkwardly walked away. I definitely just fucked up.

Once I had gotten home, I began getting ready for tonight. The barista, Elijah, was a fellow Australian, although he had been living in Spain for the past few years. I'd been going to the same cafe every morning since I landed in Barcelona, and once Elijah had picked up on my accent it was nothing but polite and short conversation about our hometowns.

Arriving at the bar, I found a seat right by the bartender. Now, I don't normally drink but today I wanted to let loose, I wanted to celebrate the success of my new job.

"I'll grab an old fashioned." The bartender nodded and began pouring my drink. Soon twenty minutes had passed and there had been no sign of Elijah. I pulled out my phone and began texting him, to no surprise there was no response.

As time passed, it became increasingly obvious that I had been stood up. After calling Elijah to no avail, I left the bar.

How shitty was that? To not even text and say that he couldn't make it... And especially considering that I am in a foreign country late at night. Classy.

Making my way through town, I noticed the flashing lights of a near by club. Similar to alcohol, I don't usually go clubbing, but with the amount that I've drunken tonight already, I deserve to at least check it out.

I get in easily and scope the crowd out. Lucky for me it's people mostly my age.

Walking up to the bar, I order a Margarita, swig the glass and walk onto the floor. The music was blasting a mix of Latin Pop and Old School Classics. Firstly my hips swayed, then my entire body. Soon enough I was dancing amongst plenty of people. All of which good looking.

After a solid ten minutes, I make my way out and successfully find an empty seat to relax for a few minutes. Fuck Elijah, this is already fifty times better then having a sophisticated chat over wine.

When I got back onto the floor, my shoulder was lightly tapped. I spun around. "Having fun?" My eyes focused on the figure in front of me. Then I realised who it was. Pedri.

Already tipsy, a shot of confidence sparked through me. "Oh my God! Pedri!" I hung my arms around his neck. "I'd much prefer to be out with you tonight." He looked down at me confused.

I began dancing while he stood their in shock "You're lucky you're a footballer because oh my you're a terrible dancer." I earned a chuckle as he placed his hands on my hips and began dancing with me.

"For a girl whose generally shy, I can't say that I'm surprised that alcohol loosens you up." I smack his shoulder. "Be polite! I'm pretty much your boss." He raised his eyebrows laughing to himself. "I don't think that's how it works Carino."

We continued to dance until we were interrupted by a loud voice and quickly removed our hands from each other's bodies.

"Y/N! My saviour!" For a split moment I sobered up and scolded Ferran. "You shouldn't be partying and dancing! You need to rest your knee otherwise you could end up more hurt."

"You crack me up, come on let's take a seat." I followed Ferran while Pedri followed me to the bar. We sat together, me between the two boys, and ordered our drinks.

"So, how was your little date tonight?" He nudged me. God I had forgotten that I told him about Eli.

"Uhh." I fiddled with my straw. "He was kinda a no show." Shocked, Ferran placed a sympathetic hand on my arm. "Trust me, baristas will never be someone's soulmate."

"Speaking from experience Fer?" Pedri chirped up. "Hmm something like that." Ferran responded.

"Hey Y/N, I want you to meet my girlfriend Sira, I think you two would make great friends." Ferran stood up to find his girlfriend, leaving Pedri and I alone.

Pedri looked at me and spoke. "Eres tan hermosa." I responded, rather annoyed with his choice to speak his native tongue. "Enough with everyone speaking Spanish here! Like okay I get it, you all have sexy accents and think it's romantic to converse with me in a language I don't understand. I'm getting lessons okay! It's just so hard to be here by myself." Soon enough tears began to stream down my face. I need to remember to stop drinking after my second glass.

Naturally, Pedri pulled me into a hug, allowing me to let all my frustrations out.

I didn't realise how upset I had become about my time here in Spain. Through the facade of cheap eats and my dream job, I forgot who I really was.

"I'm sorry for annoying you Carino. All I said was that you looked beautiful." I blushed, still not looking at him. "You see, I get nervous around pretty girls, and you happen to be the prettiest that I have ever seen." He knew exactly what to say to get my heart racing.

"I miss my home too. Especially my mother." At this I look up at him. He wipes the tears off my face with his thumb. "But I understand. You've come here all by yourself to work a new job without anyone supporting you. You're so strong." He smiled at me.

"I think we need to bring you home, I don't want you be late to work tomorrow." I sighed as he helped me out of my seat.

"Do you live nearby? I'm happy to walk you home." I accepted his offer.

Walking through the streets of Barcelona, Pedri made sure to explain his teammates and their personalities.

"Ale might just be the biggest flirt so don't mind him."

"Oh trust me, I can tell." I replied, still wandering through quiet lanes.

"And your best friend Ferran, he's a nutjob but such a good kid."

"Isn't he older than you?"

"Eh, to me he's a brother."

We began to approach my apartment. "This'll be me." I indicated towards the building. "Would you like me to walk you in?" I shook my head, not wanting to keep him out here any longer.

He grabbed my hand as we held eye contact. "Maybe we could do this again. I really enjoyed hanging out with you tonight. Even if it was a short amount of time." I smiled agreeingly.

Then it got quiet, we were both obvious to what should happen, so I leaned in. Immediately he took a step back.

Holy fuck he had just rejected me? Sweet talk all night and now he wouldn't even kiss me??

He looked down at me. "I'll see you tomorrow." I smiled awkwardly and took a step back.

God Spanish men weren't for the fainthearted.

"Are you okay Y/N." Looking up from my clipboard, Ferran was in my eyesight. "Yup, just slightly hungover."

"I heard a certain someone followed you home." He smirked while lying down on my physio bed. "Ha ha very funny." I sarcastically responded.

I began to unwrap the tape on his knee, making sure to not pull too aggressively. "I never got to introduce you to my girlfriend. Here let me find a photo to show you."

"Not now Ferran. Just let me do this." I snapped at him.

It had been two and a bit weeks since he originally injured his knee, and in my eyes, he was ready to begin training with the squad again, however with restrictions to ensure his safety.

"What's wrong doc?" He asked me, genuinely concerned.

"I'm just a little on edge." Continuing, "I don't know, I think I pissed Pedri off." Ferran laughed. "Yeah trust me you didn't." Sighing, I began to feel around Fer's knee. "You're all good to train." His face lit up. "Seriously!?" He was ecstatic. "You'll be doing a strict 15 minutes training to 5 minutes rest tempo. And no tackles yet. I'll talk to Xavi."

Ferran rose and gave me a huge kiss on my cheek. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I smiled at him, happy for him to be returning.

Once he left, I headed into my office, writing an integration plan for Ferran, to give to Xavi. My door was wide open, and in walked Gavi.

I hadn't really spoken to him much before so I was slightly confused as to why he was in my office. "Hey sorry to interrupt, but we're going out to the fields so..." I stood from my chair. "Right, yeah thank you."

As soon as I had gotten to the ground my eyes found Pedri, luckily, he hadn't noticed me yet.

"Hey Y/N, is Ferran ready yet?" Xavi approached me. I gave him the plan and explained to him what I explained to Ferran. Pleased, Xavi took my paper and walked back to his squad.

Throughout the session I made my way to players, taping a few shoulders and ankles, massaging a few calves. Watching Ferran get back on the grass was a happy moment. Although he'd only been out for a few weeks, his comeback proved my competence as a physio. people now trusted me.

I noticed Pedri limping after an awkward tackle with Raphina, however he insisted to his coach that he was fine to play on. I however, noticed that he was in discomfort so I watched his movement.

By the end of training, Pedri was visibly in pain. Truthfully, I didn't want to face him so I avoided him and Beau in an attempt to not be assigned to him. But Ferran had other plans.

"Yo, Y/N. Can you check Pepi's ankle?" Awesome. I made my way to the boys. Pedri leaned slightly on Ferran's frame. "Come on let's get you inside."

Pedri seemed okay to walk in with minimal assistance, and soon it was only him and I in the recovery room. "Take a seat I'll get you sorted." He sat up on the bed as I helped him remove his boots.

"Please don't let this be awkward." I looked up at him after his words. "Strictly professional." I felt his ankle and evaluated the bruising. "It's not good is it?" He asked looking at me defeated. "I'm not sure as of right now but I think I need to bring in the doctor."

"What do you think it is?" He asked my naively.

"I can't indicatively say but I think its a tendon tear." I could see him cringe at my answer. "But I haven't done any tests so I can't say for sure."

"I'm gonna go find the doctor." Suddenly he grabbed my wrist. "Wait, I need to speak to you." The emotion on his face indicating that he really needed me to stay with him. I didn't respond, instead sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I wasn't lying when I said that I'd wanted to go out with you again." He looked at me sympathetically. "And I didn't kiss you not because I didn't want to. I wanted it to be at the right moment." I look around the room. The silence is killing me. "Now I know that I'll be injured for a little while but would you like to come around to my house tonight? There'll be a few of the guys over and I'm cooking." He smiled. That smile.

I couldn't say no to him but I wanted to keep him on his toes. "I'll let you know by the end of the day." Smiling cheekily he held onto my hands. "But first I do need to bring the doctor in, so hang tight."

By the time I had come back in, Ferran and Gavi were next to Pedri. Dr Nicholson evaluated Pedri's ankle as a torn ligament and sent him off for a few X-Rays. "Soooo anything happen?" Ferran asked me playfully. "No Ferran, now I need to get back to work and so do you. Get to the gym."

By the time I was packing up my files a shadow appeared in my doorframe. "Decided yet?" His smirk tugging at his lips, instantly causing me to do the same. "Good afternoon to you too." He walked forward to me, closing the door behind although not without some difficulties as a result of his crutches.

"You look pretty pathetic with those things. I don't know how you're going to be cooking." He took a seat in my spare chair as I continued filling. "Eh, I might get some help from one of my friends." God he was so flirty I genuinely couldn't keep up with this man.

"Now I would offer to pick you up, but unfortunately I'm in a bit of a predicament right now. Should I send someone to pick you up or would you like my address?" I could not stop smiling. "Send me someone."

I pulled out my phone. "What's your number? I'll send you my address." After we exchanged numbers Pedri stood by the door. "I'll see you later then Carino."

Okay so Pedri didn't exactly discuss with me what the dress code was. I knew that it would be his teammates and their girlfriends I seriously didn't know what to pick. Something casual? Something Classy? Barca merch??? I decided to play it safe and be comfortable.

I slipped on sweatpants and a white top and called it a day. Pedri had told me that I'd be getting picked up at 6:00 so I headed down to the street by outside my complex. I wasn't quite too sure on how the driver would know to collect me, but as soon as a reached for my phone a car pulled in front of me. I didn't recognise who it was, "Y/N?". I nodded and proceeded into the back of the car.

The drive was supposed to be thirty minutes, but a large pause of traffic delayed time. By the time I had gotten to his house it was 6:50. There were already three cars parked in the driveway and suddenly I felt an indescribable wave of nervousness.

So do I walk up to his door and knock on it? Or do I message him or do I try and get in. I stress too much.

Once at the door I knocked. It was loud enough to be heard from the story above, and soon enough the door was answered. An enthusiastic Ferran picked me off my feet, I made eye contact with Pedri.

"Sira ven rápido, ella está aquí!." (Sira come quick, she's here) While he ran to find Sira I met Pedri's gaze. "You look beautiful tonight, Carino." In an attempt to divert my blush, I focused on his ankle. "How are you holding up, does it feel okay?" Smiling, he replied, "You worry too much Y/N come in."

I walked into his home and oh my was it gorgeous. The ceilings were raised and huge windows adorned the frame. I can't believe he lives here.

"Everyone's just in the living room." As we walked in, I recognised Ferran, Gavi, Fermin, and the girl cuddled up with Ferran.

"Ayyyy she finally came!" Gavi said, raising his glass in the air. I took a seat on the couch facing the fireplace, and as soon as I had sat down, it felt as if I had found my place.

Pedri was in and out of the kitchen, cooking on an injured ankle while attempting to keep conversation. Bless his heart.

I had spoken to Sira a lot, and we had much in common. By 7:30 Pedri had called us to the dining room.

We sat down, a seat empty next to me (assuming it was Pedri's). He brought out the dishes and to say I was impressed was an understatement. Truthfully, I didn't recognise most of the dishes but by the looks of astonishment on Fermin and Gavi's face I knew it was impressive.

"Es una locura ver lo que te hace una chica bonita!" (It's crazy to see what a pretty girl does to you.) Gavi said aloud, cracking everyone up.

Pedri took his seat next to mine and whispered in my ear, "He said that beautiful girls make me do crazy things." My cheeks reddened, he remembered.

The meal was delicious, conversation was flowing effortlessly, you could tell that they all loved each other. Suddenly the chatter was drowned out as I felt Pedri's hand land on my thigh. I looked at him but he was still engaged in conversation with Ferran.

As we finished up, Pedri was banned from cleaning anything (specifically by me, doctors orders.) "Okay fine I'll take a seat, but I need the physio to check out my ankle so you're on your own guys." They all groaned in unison that I was allowed to rest.

He laid upright on the couch, signalling for me to place myself between his legs. Without a second thought, we were cuddling together, talking about our lives.

I found myself telling him about my home, and how much he'd enjoy it if he went.

He was playing with my hair and giving me scalp massages when someone walked in.

"Hey Pedri, we're gonna head home now. Would you like us to drop you off Y/N?" Ferran called out, the only one able to see what we were doing. Immediately I called out, "I'm all good, I'll grab a cab." Ferran smiled at us and the rest all called out their goodbyes.

"You're a great cook Pedro." His body jolted, shocked at what I had said. "I like how you say my name." He was so cheesy.

"Is that the only thing you like about me?" I reply in a sassy but playful tone. He knows that I'm trying to gage how much he likes me. "No, I also like how good you are at your job." I pretend to be mad, "Well with enough years of uni, anyone could be as good as I am." Standing up, I leaned slightly over his face.

"You're so beautiful that it hurts." Curious at what he said, I pry him for more. "I can't look at you, let alone in the eyes without my heart racing. You do something to me and can't tell what it is." He is going to be the death of men.

Before I had time to react, he kissed me, passionately. He held my chin in one hand, while both of mine reached for the spot behind his ear.

It was ecstatic, electric, nothing I had ever felt before. But then it ended.

"Wow." The only word that fell from his lips before we started laughing. By this point I was already on top of him, so I flattened myself on him as we held each other, shocked by our actions.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while." I say to him. He looked at me with a shy smile. "What do you man Carino?" Embarrassed, I told him about my 'research' that I had done prior to accepting the job at Barcelona.

He laughed at me but found it 'cute'.

After some conversation, I found myself getting sleepier. I could barely keep my eyes open. I rationalised with myself, just a quick power nap then I'll head home.

By the time I had woken up I was tucked under white linen, puzzled by where I was. Soon enough I realised what had happened. I searched for my phone to find it charging by my bedside. 7:42. Shit I was gonna be late.

I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. I needed to get home. As I made my way down I found Pedri by the kitchen counter cooking up some eggs. "Morning Carino." He smiled sweetly at me.

"Can you call an Uber? I'm going to be late for work." Still smiling, he pointed towards the counter. "Sira brought over some clothes. I've also got a few Barca tracksuits if you wanted to wear that instead."

I looked at him puzzled, he still hadn't answered my question. "Gavi is gonna pick us up, I think he'll be here by 8 so you better start getting ready." Jokingly, I replied "You trust him to drive?" while picking up the clothes left by Sira and Pedri.

I was ready by 8, declining the eggs Pedri had cooked. I tried my best to look presentable with the minimal amount of beauty products left for me. I decided to wear the jumper from Pedri as it was an exact replica of my own one from the club, but opted for leggings that Sira had left for me.

By the time we had arrived to the training grounds it was 8:30. I was running late. Bursting in, I made my way to my office, writing up the plan I was supposed to make for Pedri.

It had been three months since Pedri had played minutes in La Liga. When Xavi waved for him to come on with twenty minutes left in the game, my stomach turned. I was so incredibly proud of him, but I was so fucking nervous. Since he was post-surgery he had no longer been my 'patient'. We rarely spent time together at work due to a clash of schedules, and barely went out. Only a few people knew of our situation and to not put either of our jobs in jeopardy we hadn't really defined our relationship, agreeing however, to be exclusive.

Although not officially dating, I knew how I felt about him.

Smiling back at me, Pedri changed from his warm-up gear into his match shirt, walking to Xavi who whispered instructions to him.

His entry to the field was applauded by a wave of celebration from the crowd. We were all so happy for him, although maybe not the away fans.

Tonight was decisive in the title race, Barca sat at 48 with Madrid on 50, a win would put Barcelona first. The game was tied 2-2, both goals from Lewa.

As we were approaching the final minutes of added time, Barca was building up from the back. Intelligent bounce passes gave them enough space to exploit, especially for Pedri. Frenkie raced down the flank of the field, cutting inside as he reached the box, carefully delivering a rolling ball. To Pedri.

The goal came so fast that everyone leapt out of their seats. We had got the points, and it was all thanks to Pedri. My Pedri.

Routine to his celebration, Pedri lifted his hands to make glasses, and while he ran back to the half for kick off, he blew me a kiss.

Undoubtedly the squad currently on the bench and the coaches spun around to see who his actions were for - my blushing cheeks probably didn't help.

When the whistle blew to signal full time, we all ran onto the field in celebration. Although it was a team that we were predicted to defeat, the number of injuries and tightness of the game really pushed the boys.

Making my way to the ground I went to find anyone to hug, I truly didn't matter who it was. But then I was suddenly lifted from behind.

"Carino!" Knowing who it was, I felt much more comfortable. As he put me down, he immediately picked me back up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

He pulled me in for a kiss which was cheered by Ferran.

"Is it the right time to ask you to be my girlfriend?" I looked down at him and nodded. He again attacked my face with kisses, and when he finally put me down, Ferran, Gavi, Fermin, and Sira pulled us all in for a group hug.

I had found my family.

"So Pedri, firstly, congratulations on the return to football. It is understood that your process of recovery was tiring and long."

"Ah yes, although I am so grateful to have the club and my beautiful girlfriend supporting me through it all."

"Now, I know you may be focused on the goal and the win, but currently everyone is freaking out over your girlfriend."

He laughed, "Yes Y/N."

"The people want to know, how did you meet?"

"You all didn't see me blowing a kiss to the bench?" The journalist laughed. "Well it definitely wasn't to Gavi." Again causing a laugh.

"But in all seriousness Y/N is a physio here at Barca. She was the sole reason as to why I was able to perform today. Without her, I'd have no motivation, and would definitely not be ready to play a match."

"She has made my days so much better. Every session I spend in recovery and training with the team, is for her. I want to make her as proud as she makes me."

I think I'm starting to like Spain.

Thank you for reading!!! Please give me suggestions on any footballer and trope so feel free to request!!

[thinkwosolife23]

Reputation Part 2, Alexia Putellas

You didn't ever anticipate playing against your sister. But here you were, currently flying from Barcalona to London for the first leg of the Champion's League Quarter Final. There were 7 teams that you could've faced but it had to be Arsenal. But facing Arsenal meant multiple things; not only were you facing your childhood club, you also had to face your past - you had to face Katie again.

These past few months had been better than you could've ever imagined. You grew up at Arsenal: you held such a love for the club and nothing would ever change that. But Barcalona gave you a different sense of belonging, like you were a piece of their jigsaw. Like they cherished you for you and not for being Leah Williamson's little sister.

Barcalona were currently sat at the top of the league as well as being in the quarter finals of the Champions League, you wanted to retain both of those titles with the club.

In terms of your personal career: you were improving everyday and your hard work was paying off. At 24, you had just placed 2nd in the rankings for the Ballon D'or. Your club teammate, Aitana Bonmatí had took the top spot.

And then there was Alexia.

She was a dream. She continued to impress you day by day, the world had tossed you the most beautiful, kind and caring soul you could've ever imagined. You didn't know what you did to deserve her.

Since that conversation at the club, you and Alexia had gone on so many different dates. Ranging from movie night on the sofa to picnics on the beach to resturant dinners. You spent weeks trying to prove that you only wanted her, you only needed her.

So, you asked her to be your girlfriend on New years eve.

Flashback……. 31st December 2023

You and Alexia had been apart over the christmas week. Her staying in spain with her mum and sister and you going back to England to be with your family.

Your flight had landed quite late in the afternoon, and Alexia was none the wiser that you were back in Barcalona.

The plan you had to ask Alexia to be your girlfriend was all ready to go.

Mapi had got Alexia to the beach just as you had asked. And now you had just go to said beach. You could see her on the beach just looking at the sunset and the sea. You had gotten Alexia a promise ring whilst back in England and it was currently sat in the back pocket of your jeans.

You headed towards where Alexia was stood and wrapped your arms around her waist, causing her to jump at your touch, clearly not expecting it.

As soon as she turned around, she jumped into your hold; wrapping her legs around your waist and her arms around your neck.

"Tu espalda, te extrañé." (Your back, I missed you.)

"Yo también te extrañé, amor." You said whilst placing her back down on the ground. (I missed you too, love.)

"¿Por qué estamos en la playa?" She asked, confused. (Why are we on the beach?)

"Bueno, quería sorprenderte en algún lugar que ambos amáramos." (Well, I wanted to suprise you somewhere we both loved.)

And it's true, you and Alexia loved the beach. It was one of your favourite places to be together other than the football pitch. Obviously.

"Y quería preguntarte algo." You continued. (And I wanted to ask you something.)

"¿Pregúntame qué?" (Ask me what.)

You took a step back from Alexia and got down on one knee whilst grabbing the promise ring from your back pocket.

"¿No crees que es un poco pronto para esto?" Alexia laughed slightly. (Don't you think it's a bit early for this?)

"No te lo voy a proponer, todavía no." It was only then you realised what it look liked you were going to do. (I'm not proposing, not yet.)

"Oh."

"Es un anillo de promesa. No puedo prometer que no tendremos discusiones ni consecuencias. No puedo prometer que seré perfecto porque ha pasado mucho tiempo desde que hice todo esto. Pero puedo prometerte que siempre estaré a tu lado, siempre te respaldaré y trataré de protegerte. Quiero que seamos tú y yo contra el mundo. Quiero estar contigo y solo contigo. Entonces Alexia, ¿serás mi novia?" (It's a promise ring. I can't promise that we won't have arguements, or fallouts. I can't promise that i'll be perfect because it's a long time since i've done all this. But I can promise that i'll always be by your side, i'll always back you up and try to protect you. I want it to be me and you against the world. I want to be with you and only you. So Alexia, will you be my girlfriend?)

By this point, you were both shedding tears. But Alexia quickly nodded and put her hand out so you could put her promise ring on. She pulled you up and soon attached her lip to yours whilst wrapping her arms around your neck, yours going to her hips pulling her closer to you.

"Te amo." She told you, resting her forehead on yours. (I love you.)

"Yo tambien te amo hermosa" (I love you too, beautiful.)

Flashback Over.

And here you were now, heading towards the tunnel of the Emirates stadium to play your former team.

Your former teammates were already stood in the tunnel, as were some of your current teammates, waiting to head out onto the pitch. Before joining your own sqaud, you quickly went to the front of the Arsenal squad where your sister was stood.

Leah soon wrapped her arms around you, wishing you good luck and telling you that she would speak to you after the game, also letting you know that your mum and brother were in the crowd watching the pair of you.

Alexia was stood on the opposite side to Leah, as they were both captains. You gave her hand a squeeze before heading to the back of the Barcalona squad.

As you were heading back to your spot, you realised that Katie was the person opposite you on the Arsenal side.

It just had to be her didn't it.

"Long time, no see, Y/N" Katie said, with that stupid little smirk on her face.

"Fuck off, McCabe!" You snapped back at her before you were pulled away by Mapi who was stood in front of you.

As soon as you were in sight. The stadium was filled with boo's, the Arsenal fans clearly stating that they felt the betrayal of you leaving. You had expected it though: being there since you were little and then leaving, you knew not everyone would agree with that. Especially the fans.

You had to shut it all out, your focus needed to be on the game.

Arsenal's Starting 11:

GK - M. Zinsberger LB - S. Catley CB - L. Williamson (C) CB - L. Wubben-Moy RB - K. McCabe CDM - L. Walti CM - K. Little CM - F. Maanum LW - C. Foord ST - A. Russo RW - B. Mead

Barcalona Starting 11:

GK - S. Panos LB - O. Batlle CB - I. Paredes CB - M. Leon RB - L. Bronze CDM - K. Walsh CM - P. Guijarro CM - A. Bonmati LW - A. Putellas ST - Y/N Williamson RW - C. G. Hansen

In all honesty, Barcalona were all over Arsenal during the first half, managing to get two goals past the. You and Patri being the two goal scorers, Alexia assisting them both.

However, in the second half, the Arsenal players started to become a lot more reckless. Late challenges, shirt grabs, harsh elbows and pushes was becoming incredibly frequent. You and Alexia seemed to be on the recieving end of most of them.

You managed to contain your fustration, that was until Katie tackled Alexia in the box. It was a high tackle from behind, Katie's studs going straight into the back of Alexia's calf, sending her straight to the ground.

Most of your teammates quickly ran over to where Alexia was laying on the ground. But you went rushing over to where Katie was stood and gave her a harsh push.

"What was that?" You shouted, causing you and Katie to go face to face.

"Proteceting your flavour of the month, how sweet." Katie laughed, her irish voice appearing sarcastic.

"I don't blame you, though. She seems like the desperate type." She continued.

By this point, you had Katie by her collar. Your hands clamped on Katie's shirt. Members of both teams trying to pull the pair of you.

Leah managed to get inbetween you both, her body blocking you from getting to Katie.

"You need to drop it, Y/N." Her sister voice coming out, trying to calm you down.

It wasn't until you heard someone else's voice that you were pulled away.

"Oye mirarme. No estoy herido, ella sólo está intentando llegar a ti." Alexia told you calmly, her hand grabbing yours to walk off. (Hey, look at me. I'm not hurt, she's just trying to get to you.)

Alexia scored the penalty that was awarded for Katie's challenged. The rest of the game went all Barcalona's way.

It finished 4-0 with you managing to get yourself a brace. After speaking to some of you former teammates, you went to find Alexia. Your eyes softened when you saw where she was, her and Leah were talking and laughing about something. Two of your favourite peopel, that sight would never get old.

Over the few months you known Alexia, you had managed to teach her some English. She asked you teach her so she could talk to your family.

You headed over to where they were stood talking. You went up behind Alexia and wrapped your arms around her waist, before kissing her cheek. You felt her lean back into your hold, her hands resting over yours.

"Where's mum?" You asked, directing your question to Leah.

She pointed to just next to the Arsenal benches, you looked towards where she was pointing to see your Mum and brother.

You took yourself away from holding Alexia before grabbing her hand pulling her in the direction of your Mum and brother.

"¿A dónde vamos?" She questioned you hesitantly. (Where are we going?)

"Es hora de usar tu inglés, amor." (Time to use your english, love)

"¡Qué! Eliges después de un partido completo para que yo los conozca adecuadamente." (What! You pick after a full match for me to properly meet them.)

"Sí, ahora vamos." (Yeah, now come on.)

When you eventually got to your Mum and Jacob, you gave them both a hug before introducting Alexia.

"Mum, Jacob. This is Alexia, she's my girlfriend."

The three of them were extemely fast to jump into conversation. Alexia's english was better than you thought it was. Was there anything this girl couldn't do?

You left them to talk, as you and Leah went around the stadium together.

"You love her, don't you." She asked you, the look on her face telling she already knew what the answer was going to be.

"I really do, Le." Your gaze followed straight to where Alexia was still talking to your Mum and brother.

"I'm sure there's worse sister in laws in the world." She chuckled to herself.

"I'm gonna marry her." You told her confidently.

"You down that bad, huh."

"She's my person, Leah."

[2-fast-2-curious]

Motorsport Audio Masterlist Leclerc - Ocon

Albon-Lawson

Perez-Zhou

Male Listener Audios

Arthur Leclerc

[M4F] Fantasizing about you kinda

Charles Leclerc

Perfect Pussy

The Ask for Shy Girls (Tell Me)

[M4F] Date Night

[M4F] Cumming twice again

Melt

Melt 2

Sit Down And Look At me

Little tutorial of hookup and dirty talking in French

[M4F] Can't Take It Any Longer - Bilingual Ramblefap

[M4F] I Need You

[M4F] Time For A Talk, Little Girl

[M4F] Happy Birthday Daddy

[M4F] Baby Making

[M] Listen to me Edge

[M4F] I'm Sorry Mommy

[M4F] Hey There, I'm Here

Dirty french lesson

I've been told that my voice can be sexy...

[M4F] Ride my thigh like a good girl

[M4F] Insieme finalmente

Kevin Magnussen

[M4F] unintentional morning breeding

[M4F] I guess being trapped in IKEA is not so bad when it's with you

[M4F] I’d love to take you here, in the park

[M4F] Bare en lille smule burde være okay, ikke?

[M4M] Anal in the Night

[M4F] Your morning alarm is set to breeding

[M4F] we can stay in bed all day, as long as you don't cum

Marc Marquez

[M4F] Stargazing Crush

Lando Norris

[M4F] "catching" you masturbating

[M4F] Sunday Morning Snugglefuck

[M4F] Oh you're in a mood? I'll deal with that 

[Spanking] [Bratty] [MDOM] [Part 1 of 2]

[Blowjob] [Namecalling] [Light Choking] [Creampie] [Part 2 of 2]

Your Ex Crashes Your Date

[M4F] Long Weekend Lovers

[M4F] Mommy's special good boy

Getting Fucked By Your Boyfriend While He Games With His Friends

[M4F] The Sicilian Defense

[M4F] Sundress season, right?

[M4F] Your Brothers Best Friend Drives you home

Shy Bookwork Gets Caught

Shy Bookworm Gets Caught - Part 2

[M4F][M4A] Only Moans 

[M4F] Period Comfort for Girlfriend

[M4F] Taking care of you during a powercut NSFW

[M4F] Arranged

[Part 2]

[M4F] Destressing after the Christmas party

[M4F] I'm Closer to Home Than Your Boyfriend

[M4F] I Need you back, my wife

[M4F] You broke-up with him again?

[M4F] Forever Again

[M4F] Ex Marks the Spot

Letting Mommy Take Care of My Morning Wood [M4F]

[M4F] Your Older Brother's Best Friend

[M4F] Your Streamer-Gamer Boyfriend Has Missed You

[M4F] Please let me worship your pussy

Clement Novalak

[M4F] [Script Fill] You Can Have Your Cake and Fuck Me Too

Pato O’Ward

[M4F][Improv] Just a uno game

Esteban Ocon

[M4F] Using coachsurfing/AirBnB to visit France

Bébé… you know I can’t say no to you

I dreamt of you

[M4F] I’ll Show You Mine

[M4F] A Ritual Into the woods

[M4F] [Script Fill] You Think You're Slick; French Professor Giving English Class

[M4F] French Daddy has an EARLY CHRISTMAS PRESENT for his little slut

[M4F] Your Partner Loves Your Bikini Body

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART ONE

i think you're past the point of saving.

together we might survive.

get me out of this damn thing.

we have no time for stragglers.

do you intend to die for a stranger?

i thought that damn thing was going to be my coffin.

you keep dangerous company.

we can watch each other's backs along the way.

enough of this chatter.

who put you in charge?

i'll trust my own judgement.

a miracle, given everything you've been through.

it'll all be for nothing if you don't find help soon.

you're alive. i'm alive. how is this possible?

seems like we're the lucky ones, judging by all the corpses strewn about.

anything's an improvement on where we just came from.

'we'? you want to stay together?

we need each other.

i can't think of better company.

i wanted to thank you again.

you should be furious, shouldn't you?

kill it yourself — you look capable enough.

i was hoping for a kind soul.

let's try to keep that lovely neck of yours in one piece.

no need for this to get messy.

i need her alive.

and to think i was ready to decorate the ground with your innards.

please, allow me to introduce myself.

of course it'll turn me into a monster.

you should travel with me.

our odds are better together.

i was ready to go this alone.

maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea.

you seem like a useful person to know.

let's hope any future acquaintances don't hold a blade to your throat by way of introduction.

no harm in a little mystery.

conversation shouldn't be made, it should be grown.

maybe i'd like to get to know you better.

i'm usually better at this.

couldn't have phrased it more repellently myself.

you don't happen to be a cleric, by any chance? a doctor, surgeon? uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?

it's not exactly a common affliction.

a parasite shared is a parasite halved.

you're both twice as tall as me but have half the bloody backbone.

no point getting killed.

second worm gets the cheese and all.

nobody's getting any damn cheese.

she obviously sees your kindness as weakness.

don't let her take advantage.

a simply 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss.

your friends abandoned you.

i've got plenty of friends who aren't soft.

let's just hope she reserves those impulses for any common foes.

what a curious way to awaken.

what is the worth of a single mortal's life?

something the matter?

you must have thoughts about our little stowaways.

thinking about it won't help.

i suppose we'd go our separate ways — not a slight on your company, of course.

no reason for us to not stay together if we get on well.

if we do survive, we'll have separate lives to return to.

let's just say it's a very person, very private acquaintance.

you're not the kind of company i'd keep willingly.

perhaps i'll return the favor at some point.

she's delightful, in a very 'look at me twice and i'll dismember you' kind of way.

i understand much beyond your comprehension.

you'd do well to observe more and question less.

and they didn't cut you from navel to neck?

i am still getting used to people like you.

that large, fleshy nose of yours looks like a mistake.

best to keep quiet, lest any drivel leak from your lips.

i do not intend to stay long in this place.

may your actions express the same mettle.

anomalies lead to surprises.

what hasn't happened may yet come to pass.

not a collaboration i'd have anticipated.

can't you tell me something real about you?

i have a great respect for privacy, especially my own.

i have a very disciplined mind.

those tricks won't work on me.

please don't try that again unless i invite you to.

we meet again, as predicted.

care to explain why you're helping me?

what kind of services can a skeleton offer?

a monster forms inside us, and you care to be idle?

i knew your kind to be fragile.

don't you know an exhausted warrior is an ineffective one?

it's a thickheaded notion in a complex circumstance.

what were you two talking about?

if that was any of your business, we'd have called you over.

your business is mine.

we're entwined.

if we're to survive, we need to trust each other.

you seem reliable.

we're overdue some good fortune.

[accio-victuuri]

fandom thoughts & are cpfs really gonna get banned from yibo related comment sections? 📝

i may regret publishing this cause it will, like it always does, attract the wrong sort but whatever. i don’t really care. for someone who has been here for a good number of years, i have really learned to pick my battles especially fandom-wise. i can tell you that every week, there will always be some kind of trouble going on with fans and you will be exhausted if you obsess over each one of them. i have said before that if there is anything that will drive me out of stanning the boys, it’s the toxic fandom — so that’s why i mostly steer clear. hence, having this small space for myself on tumblr.

the fandom disagreements, whether that’s within cpfs, so/o vs cpfs, so/o vs other so/os and we somehow get dragged is always gonna be there. and it’s not really unique to our fandom. the question tho is why you are here? is it to participate in fan wars or to consume content related to xz and wyb? is it to be famous and get followers? etc personally, i’m here for xz and wyb. the active fandom is a bonus. there are so many things i love about the cpf community, but my priority will always be xz and wyb + their career. i mostly get involved if the issue makes it on HS and if it’s to amplify something positive within the fandom.

lately, i’ve mildly spoke up about people accusing cpfs of buying likes cause it was all bs.

which leads us to the next topic of being banned..

i guess this is a “hot topic” in other platforms that love drama.

so for the past days, including weibo night, cpfs have been commenting en masse in comments section. for example, with yibo’s weibo night post and ybo’s recent post about bystander ep photos. what you will notice is the use of ❤️💛 💚 to highlight that we are cpfs. the same thing is done in xz & xzs post. the only reason why we are more visible in the top comments of yibo posts is because motos are disorganized. i said what i said. i see efforts for their coordination but cpfs are just more organized when it comes to doing likes and votes. xfx are so much better than us on this tho. they have lots of professional fans. omg i’m gonna get dragged for being a xfx lol but it’s the truth.

you must notice that the friction between cpfs and motos have been happening for a while now. going as far back as SDC 5 finals ( even before that actually ) and so on. this is why i’m not surprised that this stunt from cpfs triggered them again. ⚠️

the short answer is, no one is getting banned. what they can do tho, and that includes YBO is to report these comments as spam. and if you look at it, they do look like spam posts. if a user gets reported multiple times, then that is when the ban comes in. i don’t think they will be spending money on censoring certain emojis tho. i tried right now and you can still send it.

i have seen some conversations on wb among cpf, that the comments should not be like this. it should really be actual comments on what is being shared. that we should not include xz’s name or face. that’s what i like about the fandom, cause we can admit if we do something wrong or if we need to improve in some aspects. we don’t blame other people, which is what other fandoms love to do btw. it’s all they can do. lol.

and it doesn’t help that in yuehua’s recent post regarding yibo’s lawsuits, the top comment is about demanding to control the comments section of yibo related posts. so of course they will look into that. sadly, the group that the company will always appease are the solo fans. it is what it is.

so that’s basically what the issue is about.

i’m actually just observing at this point but it’s not where my focus is. i am personally excited about saturday and seeing captain yibo 💥 plus i have other interests and things happening irl. this is why i don’t get people who seem to only be in fandom to start fights or obsess over cpfs. can’t relate.

i’m not saying that we should ignore everything and pretend that things are perfect. the point is, do not obsess over every fandom drama. also, look at things from cpf side before so/os. people usually come to me, sending me things that so/os say and my question is why the hell are you reading their posts? why are you in there? let’s stay on our lane. they are so/os, of course they will be biased. and don’t expect me to be always up in arms about stuff like this. my energy for over reacting is primarily for cpns and not fandom wars & drama.

lastly, being a cpf is not for the glass hearted. if you are weak-willed, this is is not for you. or maybe it is and this is the fandom that will build you up. i hope more and more people will find that perfect balance in participating in this fandom. that we set and implement boundaries — i know it’s especially hard for the new ones — when you are bombarded with the negativity. it’s not all that. there is so much more positive things to gain in being a cpf if you know where to look 🫶🏼

[ms-demeanor]

my thing is I'm capable of any of this stuff up to at least level 3 and can do them for special occasions and if I've rested enough no problem, but I can't do it OFTEN because it just uses up too many spoons. any thoughts on this? besides practice, I already cook as often as I can (which is not very)

Mise en place your life as much as possible. I've talked about this before but this is what I do to make things easier on myself. My baking station with all the ingredients out and clearly labeled instead of at the bottom of the pantry where I have to dig for them makes it much, much, much easier to bake. My knife strip on the wall and the dozen cutting boards in a rack on the wall and the frying pan that lives on the stove instead of under the counter all make it much easier for me to cook.

Like, a lot of what I've been going through and doing in terms of home improvement/home decor is attempting to configure the house in such a way that large bastard and i can easily do the things we want to/need to do. We need batteries all the time, so the batteries live in an organized box where we can see it instead of in the back of the cabinet. We also need to *discard* batteries all the time, so the battery discard tub is right next to that box otherwise we'll start accumulating used batteries on surfaces.

The instruments that live on my kitchen counter are the ones that get used most often so that I don't need to go looking for them and so that I know at a glance if they're clean (if so they're in the canister on the counter) or need to be washed. The appliances that I use the most either live on the counter or get put places where it's convenient - I don't have enough bowls and plates that I need to use the top three shelves of my cabinet for bowls and plates like my parents did, but I do use my rice cooker twice a week so my rice cooker lives in the same cabinet as my dishes (as does my tofu press, my waffle maker, and the easiest-to-use 16oz food storage containers).

And you know what sometimes i just can't do it. Sometimes my back isn't working or my hip isn't working or i got glutened recently and I can't do much of anything.

I've got a variety of low spoon foods that I always have ingredients for (one recent addition to this list is tofu; i went from eating no tofu to eating tofu twice a week because two days a week i can't really use one of my arms to make dinner so i just prep the tofu at lunchtime and when i get home from the plasma center all i have to do is season and pan fry it and make a pot of rice. And I also make a shitload of extra rice because rice with eggs and sweet-spicy sauce is now one of my easiest and best go-to lunches) and whenever I make a pot of soup (something that I do pretty much every weekend when it's cool enough) I will make enough for lunch that week plus usually some extra to go in the freezer as backup "I don't feel like cooking" meals.

So, yeah I guess what I'm saying is get a good list of low-spoon foods that you like and can keep the ingredients handy for (ground beef goes bad in a week, tofu lasts like a month, i love tofu, it's so easy and so cheap to keep a bunch of tofu handy), and throw out the idea of what a kitchen is "supposed" to be like and figure out if there are ways to make your kitchen more adaptive for you.

Get anti-fatigue mats for your home kitchen. Get a tall stool that you can sit at while cooking at the stove instead of standing. Reorganize your cabinets for maximum efficiency for your needs. (large bastard and I have been doing this both with organized visible storage like wall racks as well as putting his stuff up high because bending over isn't easy for him but it is easy for me).

And also, like, consider if it's worth it, or how it can be worth it. How do you want to be a better cook? Do you want to be better at making meals for large groups or do you want to be more comfortable cooking for yourself or do you want a wider repertoire of recipes - all of those things will take a different path and some will be harder than others if you're wrangling disabilities that make it difficult to cook. I'm probably never going to be great at cooking for large groups because it doesn't really suit my lifestyle and it hurts! It hurts a lot and after hosting thanksgiving last year i needed to use my cane for a week because of how much it hurt my back! But I can work on stuff that makes it easier for me to cook, like having my baking station or keeping my rice cooker in an easy-to-reach cabinet.

[marleysfinest]

you look so pretty...

nsfw eren x fem reader. minors dni. cw public foreplay/sex, mild dominance, eren being stroppy

word count 1.9k

obligatory tags to the eren babes @somelattes & @bloompompom

you stretch and rub the sleep from your eyes, pleased to see that the weather has improved since yesterday. eren stirs slowly beside you, eyes closed, but you know he's awake. before you have a chance to slip out of bed and head towards the shower, his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you in close.

"mornin'," he croaks, eyes still firmly closed as he clings on to sleep as firmly as he's clinging to you. "time is it? come back to sleep."

you stroke his forearm affectionately as you contemplate the attractive idea, but you know that you should get moving. you want to beat the crowds at the mall before it becomes unbearably busy, knowing that saturday shoppers bring out the worst in you.

"nine," you reply quietly, "c'mon, if you're coming with me then we should get up."

his hold on you tightens, pinning you square against him beneath the feathery sheets.

"d'you have to go?" he asks, his voice carrying a slight whine that you're all too familiar with, "let's just stay here. we've got the whole weekend."

you groan, wishing you could stay, but knowing that there was no way that you could squeeze another week out of your work shirts. you'd left it long enough; if you pushed your luck any further, then you risked an embarrassing incident that you knew for certain you didn't need. no, it had to be today. he tries his best to encourage you to stay, his fingers tracing your breasts and pinching your nipple, knowing it's usually a sure-fire way to get you in the mood, but you're taken by a strange sense of determination this morning.

"c'mon," you urge, tapping his arm so that he releases you, and you sit up on the edge of the bed, "sooner I go, sooner I'm back. you coming?"

eren looks up at you with hooded, scowling eyes, dark hair tangled against the cotton pillowcase, and heaves a sigh.

"fine," he succumbs, "go shower and get ready, I'll hop in after you."

eren reluctantly agrees to join you, thinking that spending time with you while shopping for clothes is better than no time at all. his grumpiness alleviates slightly when you offer to buy him coffee en route, and so you slip into the starbucks outside the mall before beginning your mission. you call up your orders - hazlenut latte for him, chai latte for you - and before long you're swiping up your orders from the barista at the end of the counter. you take a sip, savouring the richness, and eren does the same.

"good?" he asks, you nod, swallowing your mouthful of coffee.

"mine too," he adds, "although, I can't help but think you'd have enjoyed the taste of me better this morning..."

his voice trails off, making it no secret what he was insinuating. you slow your pace to glare at him, eyebrows raised, surprised at how he was being so forward even by his standards.

"we've got the whole weekend," you reply, deciding to throw his own words back at him, which has the desired affect. you just about hear the sigh of frustration escape his flaring nostrils, and you could've sworn that a quiet groan slipped from the back of his throat. feeling strangely pleased with yourself, you pick up your pace, heading inside the mall with your boyfriend in tow.

despite it still being relatively early, the stores are already packed with shoppers hungry for a deal. you elbow and rub shoulders with the public as you frantically search for your new work clothes, becoming more and more desperate to be at home with every passing minute. when you finally reach a section of zara that not only has a half-decent offering of shirts, but is quiet, you take the opportunity to relax the tension in your muscles and flick through the rails at a much more leisurely pace. after pulling some pieces to try on, you feel eren's presence behind you, boxing you in beside the secluded racks. before you have a chance to ask him what he's doing, you feel a cold hand rub against your thigh before riding up your skirt and grabbing a handful of your ass. you smirk as you realise the game that eren's playing, and as he repositions himself, he wraps his remaining arm around your waist, pinning you to him as the other slides his hand from your ass to the elastic of your panties. his fingers barely graze your lips as you suddenly feeling him pressed up against you, and you realise that he's really the one being tormented here.

"something wrong, baby?" you ask, your head lolling back to rest against his shoulder. he looks down at you, emerald eyes burning, the hunger in his expression more obvious than the nose on his face.

"nothin'," he replies, "just... trying to persuade you."

"here?"

"what? we're alone."

there's conviction in his statement, and you realise that he genuinely believes what he's insinuating. you know that, if you gave him the word, he'd fuck you right there against the rails, but having sex at the risk of being seen by not only fellow shoppers but the numerous security cameras surrounding them was not on your to-do list.

"c'mon," you say gently, breaking him out of his daydream, "I need to go and try this stuff on. come with me? I want your opinion."

you take your head off of his shoulder and peel yourself away from his hold, albeit reluctantly. after quickly scanning for the changing rooms, you take one of eren's hands in yours and pull him after you, your fingers limply entwined. if you sense him slow his pace to observe the swaying of your hips (which perhaps you're doing deliberately), then you're sure it's pure coincidence.

he takes a seat on the little stool outside of your cubicle , and as you close the door with a smile, you can't help but notice the pained look on his face and the hunger in his eyes. after sliding the lock across, you slip off your t-shirt and pull on the silky, candy-floss blouse and carefully do up the buttons. you like it; it feels nice against your skin, and fits well, but you want a second opinion. you open the cubicle door to see eren scrolling absentmindedly on his phone, although not for much longer. he looks up to see you striking a deliberately over the top pose, and there's a swell of butterflies in your stomach. you giggle and await his response, noting the almost predatory way he's looking at you as he tucks his phone back into his pocket.

"let me take a closer look," he mumbles, sighing as he gets to his feet and joins you in the cubicle.

once the door is locked once again, eren keenly inspects the shirt. his eyes wander from where it hugs your waist and up to where it gently enhances your breasts, looking progressively unconvinced.

"I don't like it," he says frankly, finally meeting your gaze. "take it off."

you huff a sigh, and slowly begin to undo the buttons from top to bottom, pretending to fumble to see just how much you can rile him. after just two buttons, eren quietly growls and reaches for you in an almost angry frenzy. you're taken aback, but don't mind as long as he doesn't rip off any buttons. he pushes the blouse off of your shoulders, exposing your chest and lacy bra, bringing himself closer to getting exactly what he wants. he takes two handfuls of your breasts and begins to massage them, leaning in to smother himself in them, kissing and licking, knowing how it always gets you going. as your head falls back, you can't help but smile.

"someone's desperate," you tease. he looks at you intensely, and you pretend to ignore the sound of him undoing his belt buckle.

"someone is being a little brat," he retorts, "take it off."

you oblige, realising that, despite achieving some privacy in the changing room, you are still technically in public, and drawing attention to yourselves wouldn't be the wisest choice. you also knew that eren wasn't above causing a ruckus to get what he wanted. you slip the blouse off, letting it fall carelessly to the floor, and succumb to your boyfriend's somewhat feral urges. he hooks his hands around your thighs and forces you to wrap your legs around him, and pins you to the changing room wall. his lips are all over your neck and collarbone, licking and sucking and leaving trails of faint love bites that you'd need to cover with concealer on monday morning. you feel him pressed between your legs, and you realise that you hadn't even noticed him slip his boxers down to his ankles, and so when he slips your panties to one side and slides in with ease, it takes you by surprise. you suck in the air through your teeth as you're forced to adjust, the sound of your breath making him twitch.

"isn't this what you wanted?" he asks, purring into your ear, "isn't this what you've been teasing me about all day long?"

you smile as you cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and gripping on to his t-shirt. he begins to thrust in and out painfully slowly, drawing out quiet but heavy sighs from you each time his pelvis meets yours. your head lolls back against the wall, and despite your eyelids falling heavily through pleasure, you know that eren is looking at you in this state of risky euphoria. you feel his grip on your thighs tighten, pulling you closer together, and burying himself as deep as he can go. you bite back a groan, knowing that he's trying to get a rise out of you, and force out a giggle instead.

"c'mon, you can do better than that," he mutters, suddenly serious as he starts to move his hips again, faster this time. "you're the one that wanted me to come with you. show me what we could've been doing at home all this time. properly."

for a split second you consider it, going all out and letting your inhibitions go so that the entire store would know what you were up to. you even considered whether you liked the place enough to care about inevitably being banned from it, but you still had some of your wits about you. deciding not to fuel his fire any further, you remain silent as you tighten your legs around him, forcing him to bury himself deeper. he throws his head back and groans at the feeling, hitting your deepest part again and again and relishing in the slick building up around him. you let a few choice whimpers escape - louder than you'd wanted - and you both failed to consider anyone who might have been around when you came. eren breaths heavily into the crook of your neck, barely masking his moans as he throbbed inside you, and the two of you stand for a moment while you regain some clarity.

with an always surprisingly gentle hand, eren helps clean you up and get dressed. he carries the clothes you need to return to the rack, saving you the job, and you both walk out of the little changing room with warm cheeks and smiles on your faces.

that was, until you see the security guard standing at the entrance, glaring at you both with the store's suited manager at his side.

[morallyinept]

It's the end of another week, so you know what that means, right?

Self-Care with Dieter and Jett! 

Hang on, wait-wait a minute. Frankie?? What are you doing here, where's Dieter? 

Ah. Don't tell me; he's in rehab again. Yes? Well good for him. So you're here to what? I see. You're filling in for him this week. My, what a chivalrous man you are. And so handsome too.

Stop blushing. You know you're hot.

Well, I suppose we'd better get on with it, hadn't we?

It's the end of another week, so you know what that means, right?

Feel Good Friday with Dieter Frankie and Jett! 

Happy Frankie Friday, everyone! 💚

So, it's Friday. You made it through another week. You're doing amazing! Look at you go! Now's the time to kick back, relax and enjoy that Friday feeling, eh Frankie? 

That's the spirit. Wait, how many of those have you had?

As we enter the weekend, what are you doing to recharge your batteries? And, if you happen to be working because you don't get weekends off, that's okay. You can always save this for your day(s) off. When it comes to feeling good, there are no set days. No set routine. No rules. 

Frankie, do you have some ideas to share about what you do to feel good? 

Come on, don't be shy...

Great! Let's hear them, bud. 

Get out & go for a walk. 

Getting out in nature is a great way to unwind and destress from a hard week of labour, both physical and mental. Surround yourself in the beauty of nature. Visit your local beauty spot; this could be a lake, a park, the beach. Go for a hike in the woods.

Sweat it out stalking through the Colombian jungle… 

Either way, get out and inhale that fresh air deep into your lungs. Be brave and travel somewhere you've never been to before, especially if you have the means to. You might just find something wonderful.

☝🏻And can I just plant the seed for some solo travel? You don't need to go far, especially if you're anxious about being on your own, but it's definitely something I recommend, and often do myself. The feeling of being self-reliant and discovering somewhere new by yourself, is incredible. 

Catch up with friends.

Grab a beer (or several) with your buddies at the bar. Have a movie night together. Cook a meal for your chums; homemade tacos anyone? Have a go at making some fun, themed cocktails at home. Go dancing. Grab a speedboat and traverse the choppy waters after a high speed beach chase...

When you surround yourself with the people you love most and who have your back, you always feel good. And you can always count on them to make sure you make it down the Andes mountains in one piece. 

Unless your name is Tom... Then, you know, you won't. 😬

Engage in a hobby you love - or try a new one.

Woah! Is that a… oh right, sorry. You were in the forces. Silly me.

My, that's a pretty big gun you're packing there, Frankie. Mind if I, uh, hold it…? Wow, it's so big. So heavy. So... hard. Damn. 

Can I watch you, uh, shoot it? 

No? Ooookay, moving on. (I'm missing Dieter already. Sheesh. 🙄)

Your time off is a great time to indulge in your hobbies. Practise your craft. Or try a new one out. You might find a new passion in something you least expected. And that's always so fun. 

Helicopter lessons anyone? 

Uh, Frankie? Is it always supposed to shake like this? Oh shit, I'm gonna puke! 🤢

Laugh. Yes, even snort laughing counts.

Laughter releases feel good endorphins, and after a hard week, sometimes it's hard to find a reason to giggle, right? But did you know that laughter is actually really good for your health?

No? Well Frankie, take a look at this, my good man:

Laughter relaxes the whole body. A good, hearty laugh relieves physical tension and stress, leaving your muscles relaxed for up to 45 minutes after.

Laughter boosts the immune system. Laughter decreases stress hormones and increases immune cells and infection-fighting antibodies, thus improving your resistance to disease and illness.

Laughter triggers the release of endorphins, the body's natural feel-good chemicals. Endorphins promote an overall sense of well-being and can even temporarily relieve pain.

Laughter protects the heart. Laughter improves the function of blood vessels and increases blood flow, which can help protect you against a heart attack and other cardiovascular problems.

Laughter burns calories. Okay, so it's no replacement for going to the gym, but one study has found that laughing for 10 to 15 minutes a day can burn approximately 40 calories - which could be enough to lose three or four pounds over the course of a year.

Laughter lightens anger's heavy load. Nothing diffuses anger and conflict faster than a shared laugh. Looking at the funny side can put problems into perspective and enable you to move on from confrontations without holding onto bitterness or resentment.

Laughter may even help you to live longer. A study in Norway found that people with a strong sense of humour outlived those who don't laugh as much.

So, find something to laugh about today. Just like Frankie here. 

Hug it out.

When people hug for 20 seconds or more, the feel-good hormone oxytocin is released which creates a stronger bond and connection between the huggers. Oxytocin has been shown to boost the immune system and reduce stress.

Aww… Frankie. That's so cute of you.

Oof, you're kinda squeezing me a little tight there. No, I didn't say stop! Ooh, you smell good. Mmm…

Hug it out with your besties. Your significant other. Your family. Your pet. Even yourself.

Yes! Hug yourself. A self-hug is a beautiful way to show yourself some compassion and kindness. As you wrap your arms around yourself, you send a powerful message of love and support to your inner self. Feel that zen!

Phew! Are you all hugged out now Frankie? No? Okay. We can do it some more… We'll just stay like this for a bit. Nice.

What's that pressing into my thigh? Oh. Oh.

So, there we have it, lovelies. Frankie's Feel Good Friday. I hope Frankie and I were able to put a smile on your face and make you feel good today. Friday's are all about feeling good, but no matter the day of the week, I hope nothing but good vibes surround you.

☝🏻Don't worry, Dieter isn't going anywhere. He'll be back next time - as soon as his sixteenth stint in rehab is over... 😐

Hold strong, D. We love you.

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK. 💚🖤

Do you. Then do Dieter. Frankie.

🖤

More Dieter & Jett here

GIFS of Frankie used by @palioom @bruhlpng @perotovar Also found via Google/Pinterest. If I've used one of yours & not credited you, it's because they've been saved to my phone & I've forgotten since who created it. Let me know so I can add the appropriate credit. 🖤

[project-sekai-facts]

I could totally be wrong abt this, since I haven't actually read most wxs stories, but from the ones I did read, I noticed that Tsukasa sometimes... weaponizes his insecurities and struggles? I shouldn't use the word weaponize, more like he uses them as a tool to enhance his acting? The biggest example being Pheonix at the Sky's Edge CH 7 & 8, where he feels like he'll never reach the goal he set for himself and uses it as a way to improve his role as Ryo? Or Dazzling Stage, where he turns his loneliness as a chid into a way to relate to Torpe? I think he does it all the time actually, since he's super loud and dramatic but his internal dialogue is so much quieter. He takes any emotion he feels and bass boosts it, which actually makes a lot of sense since we've seen him when he's not acting like that and Nene was actually kind of put-off that he wasn't yelling and being theatrical (wonder magical showtime CH 8).

Yeah, you're right. Tsukasa is probably best described as a method actor. He struggles with characters that he cannot relate to (emotionally), and has to find a way to connect himself with them in order to play them, such as Torpe and Rio. With Torpe, he was only able to act the character as best he could once he came to terms with his lonliness as a child/younger teen and realised that he used the piano in the exact same way Torpe looked at the stars. Same with Rio, where he tried starving himself like the character does first, only for that to not work but then forced himself to face his inferiority and hopelessness, and was able to connect that to the character. He always finds a way to relate to the character emotionally in the end, but both times it’s required him to uncover/face something unpleasant (that being his loneliness and inferior talent). So yeah, he's good at fairly flat 'hero' or otherwise mostly positive characters, but when he gets given a more emotionally complex character, he has to use his personal struggles to get into the mindset of the character.

I think that Tsukasa is the kind of person who doesn’t like to dwell on the past too much, but also he doesn’t seem to like to think about things that aren’t, y'know, mostly positive. Like, the reason he wanted to become a star, as well as his loneliness when he was younger both stem from Saki being really ill, which is not the most pleasant thing to think of. He doesn’t think about the group splitting up in future as much as the other members do, he is aware of it but doesn’t face it. Mr. Showtime and some brief scenes in Lion Dance New Year are the best look at that we get. And he has to force himself to face that he has less talent than the people around him in Phoenix at the Sky's Edge and breaks down crying (this is not healthy jeez).

There's an area conversation from a while back where Rui asks Toya if Tsukasa has always had the confident and showy personality and Toya says that Tsukasa adopted that personality as a kid because he felt he needed to be more outwardly confident for Saki, and it just stuck. (note: EN translated the first sentence a bit weird. As far as I can understand, in the original text Toya says that Tsukasa did do the persona deliberately as a child, but here it makes it sound like he didn't). I think that alone explains the difference between how he acts outwardly vs inwardly.

He projects everything big and loud because it makes him appear confident, and he had to be brave for Saki so he could make her happy. Not all of the projecting is for confidence reasons, he's generally pretty emotional when the emotions are positive, and always projects them up to 11. I'm assuming that with the length of time Saki was in hospital for, he got so used to his persona that it just naturally became his normal personality. So maybe as that happened he started to amplify how he expressed everything, not just his courage. When we get to see his inner self, I think it's more toned down because he doesn't need to project when he's alone, and I'm guessing that this is how he acted before the persona, or at least somewhat close.

[zephyrine-tale]

im doing the rant about N25 KAITO i fucking lied about it coming on the weekend because im bored as hell :3

*ahem*

so N25 KAITO is memed a lot because in the April Fool's event, there's an area convo with N25 Rin where she's talking with another unit's KAITO (either VBS or WXS i can't remember 💀) and she's like "oh. i wonder if our KAITO will be like that :)"

and in EN server there's almost certainly people meming the way the new stamps tastefully ignore N25 KAITO

and I'm interested by this because I think niigo KAITO coming last was a very purposeful decision by the writers?

let's look at the first four KAITOs. Leoni KAITO is quiet, shy, but still a helpful senpai- exactly what the Leoni girls like Saki and Ichika have been needing for direction in their music studies and becoming a better band by working together individually and as a group.

MMJ KAITO is a hardworking manager, who provides that "push" that's shown to help Minori the most. Minori has her head in the clouds often and is shown to be helped by very severe, what I would consider maybe slightly "harsh" instruction from the others. (Think Airi always training her and pushing her to go harder, that's what Minori needs.) KAITO provides that push and also shows the management side of being an idol group for MMJ- all of MMJ are idols after all, to my knowledge none of them have managing experience. But keep in mind, he's still kind. He's still helpful and nice, and smiles often.

VBS KAITO is shown as mostly a direct contrast to Akito and how since the main story, he (akito) has wanted to work hard and consistently for the goal to surpass Rad Weekend, even perhaps putting his studies aside. KAITO represents keeping talent and being hardworking, while still being lazy and having fun. I think he also represents as motivation for Kohane, who was convinced by the main story she needs to work constantly and hardly and push herself beyond other things she enjoys to be able to reach this goal- but she doesn't. All of VBS can achieve their goal while still having fun with it, and that's what their KAITO represents.

WXS KAITO is literally fucking WXS KAITO idk what you want

Okay jokes aside as the "main" KAITO he is there to provide the more serious aspect to WonderShow's silly goofiness. Tsukasa definitely also has is head in the clouds, but all he wants is "to become a STAR! ⭐️" without really knowing how to achieve that goal. KAITO represents the path to that goal, and motivates him to work for that future. We see before PXL and SEKAI, that Tsukasa wasn't really getting anywhere with his acting career, right? And there's a whole other bucketload of info about what he represents for Emu, Nene, and Rui, but I can't figure out how to word it 😭 😭

So to sum it up, KAITOs seem to show what the unit members (especially the "leaders" but not always) need and motivates them to get to their overall goal, they were created in the image of what they want and what they need. And in contrast to Niigo KAITO, they are all NICE. They are all helpful, kind, fun, and genuine.

Now, remember what I said just now, about how they were created in the image of what the unit members want and what they need.

With Niigo, it's a common theme that could be said that "all roads lead back to Mafuyu." Kanade wants to save someone with her music, and Mafuyu represents that desire for her. Ena wants to prove herself as a talented and respectable artist, and she'll know she reaches that goal once Mafuyu is able to genuinely tell her, from the bottom of Mafuyu's heart, that Ena had improved and gotten the feeling she wanted to convey across to someone who is practically incapable of feeling anymore. And Mizuki ,,, there's definitely something for them to but I can't remember anything abt their stories rn 😭 😭 im a failed mizuki kinnie istg (also this entire paragraph was not supposed to invalidate any of their individual stories and characters and say that mafuyu is the best and only character of N25 that's not it at all)

So, considering Mafuyu under this lens, and quoting that KAITOs tend to represent what a unit member needs and wants to move forward, this becomes interesting because deep down, Mafuyu doesn't know what she needs or wants. There were definitely people who predicted that N25 KAITO was gonna be an asshole, but for the most part KAITO's harsh strictness and rudeness came as a direct contrast to all of the kind, helpful SEKAILOIDS we've seen before. Even N25 MEIKO was just kinda chill and quiet with the occasional not nice comment, but KAITO came forward with the sharp, harsh comments about what exactly Mafuyu needs to do. I heard somewhere that Mizuki tells Mafuyu that maybe running away would be a good idea, and that Rui tells her something similar.

But KAITO flat out fucking commands her (and the others i think) that she needs to confront and cut ties with mafumom IMMEDIATELY, and not in a nice or encouraging way either.

Anyways that was my midnight thought I had and I definitely did not do any research, so if I said something totally wrong or you'd like to make an argument/bring up new points, PLEASE feel free to reblog and tell me your thoughts! Plus I didn't beta read this or anything so it probably won't flow well and there might be a few typos or grammer mistakes. Hope you enjoyed reading!

[afreakingdork]

Tactical En Suite

RotTMNT Donatello x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Tags: Aged-up Turtles, Guns, Cursing, Hate Fucking, Edging, Fingering, Sex, Groping, Creampie, Light Knifeplay

Synopsis:  After a month of training, you were ready to exact your vengeance. Now you just needed Donatello to behave long enough during a 1v1 Airsoft match so that you can actually enjoy it.

This is a sequel to Tactical Entreat: Tumblr 💜 Ao3

Also available on Ao3

As always, this would not be possible without @donathan 's incredible tactical!Donnie concept and @unknownfanartist 's brainstorming prowess!

Also, I apologize for shifting from a GN!Reader to a female one. I kept it vague until absolutely necessary if that helps at all...

PLEASE NOTE: MINORS JUST DON'T OK?! THERE'S TAGS! BE COOL AND DNI 😩

You: Rematch. 1v1. No bullshit.

He was beyond infuriating. After a short respite that day, you’d made it back to the graveyard with little issue. Much to your surprise, Donnie had conceded defeat and your team had won. Though the overall tie was unsatisfying, the conversation shifted to finishing up for the day. Having never thought to reach for your phone, you found out over half a day had flown by. It brought your gaze skyward where the clouds were maybe incrementally darker than what you’d accessed. You were fine to leave everything as it was. You’d had your fill and outlet. You were feeling better. You were fully prepared to just leave the scorching make-out session among the trees where it probably belonged. That was, until, everyone had started to head out.

About to put another cigarette between his lips, Donatello had made eye contact. He smirked and made a slow show of the action because you couldn't seem to wrench your eyes away from his mouth. His brow arched into a quirked mocking question and the move immediately reignited a flicker of the earlier flame of hatred. You would have spoken to it had he not then approached you. You watched in annoyance as he chose not to address you, but instead put on another sensual charade of lighting said cigarette and taking his first puff. Lucky for him, he chose to blow said smoke away from you. If he had chosen otherwise you would have decked him right there and then. Instead, he packed his lighter into one pocket of his vest and produced a log book from another. You caught a glimpse of strange lines of data that quickly disappeared as he found a blank page. The pad then lifted out of your vision as he scrawled something out.

“If you ever want to actually improve your skills.” He noted as he ripped out the page and handed it over to you.

You took it and reviewed the number for a moment. You had wondered if he'd meant it as some kind of innuendo until you swept your gaze back to his face. The teasing twinkle had evaporated and in its place was a cool calculating look that said your firing skills would never be on his level, but he’d take pity on you. He’d probably make you beg. You’d never give him the satisfaction.

“No thanks.” You replied nonchalantly before making your own show of crumpling the paper into a tight fisted wad. You wanted to leave him with a final quip, but nothing powerful enough came to mind. Shifting gears, you moved to the secondary language of your body. You dropped your lids and gave him a long once over with a bored expression. He reached up and covered his lips as he took another puff from his cigarette. You then gave a small yawn and curved your body into turning away. Within the first few steps away you heard the faintest clicking of tongue. It hadn’t been near enough vengeance, but for then it was enough.

Now, however, was month later and that annoyed knot in your stomach had grown to a relative ulcer of frustration. The purple bastard had wormed his way into your brain and you couldn’t forget how maddeningly annoying he was. His pomp and circumstance when it came to a stupid game. His lackadaisical peacocking as if he were the universe’s gift to Airsofting. His overzealous roaming hands. You took another shot at the target and examined how it punctured through the dead center of the paper. A smile graced your lips.

You’d stolen a rifle and that busted handgun from your friend’s sister. It wasn’t because of him. You’d found a nice empty lot and even contacted its owner to ask if you could use it for practice. His comment about your ability was the furthest from your mind. You’d studied, dismantled, and fixed the small crack in the handgun that had been causing the BBs to jam. His dopey chuckles didn’t keep you from sleep. After firing a few more accurate shots, you peeled open the vest you purchased to insert a fresh magazine. You had just picked up a hobby.

It just so happened to be perfectly suited for a hearty serving of revenge.

That was, if he would answer the fucking text.

Agitated, you fired at the target page until it shredded off its stand and hung in two flapping pieces. Releasing your rifle into its straps hold, you unearthed your phone and unlocked it. Bringing up said text chain, you found it had been a week since you'd sent the message. If you were any pettier you would have thrown your phone to take out the target stand as well. Sure, you’d neglected to introduce yourself or gone through any common courtesies, but who was he if he expected that. You crossed the lot to set up a new page.

Having combed over the possibilities a few times, you couldn’t help but review them again. One, he automatically screened out unknown numbers. It seemed possibly with his holier than thou attitude, but in that same vein, there was no way he didn’t at least see the message preview. Two, he knew it was you and was simply ignoring you. Following a similar logic from the previous point, it wasn’t something you’d put past him. This was your preferred point and also the one that stoked the flames of your hatred the most. Three, he saw the message and simply didn’t remember you. While you hated him, you despised this thought the most. It meant that your irate mania was completely one sided. A refusal on his part to even acknowledge you in his mental data banks. It was the unbridled biting insignificance. Having crossed the lot, you turned and did a quick change from the rifle to your handgun. You then emptied the entire clip into the paper, shredding it once again. You preferred option two.

You were about to reset yet again when your phone pinged. You paused and soured. The timing would be too perfect so you shoved the thought aside. Lazily holstering your handgun, you swapped it for your phone. Opening it, your eyes widened with fury. The preview text glared back at you so you opened it with a near deranged smile on your face.

Asshole: Just got back into country. Interesting proposition. Worried a team would take you down too quickly?

Part of your brain begged you not to reply right then and there. He’d know a response that quickly meant you had your phone close by and would reek of desperation. Unfortunately, any reasonable sense you’d had was shredded by his garbage attitude.

You: Or maybe I want to look you dead in the eye when I shoot you without having to waste BBs on anyone else.

Asshole: You’ll need that many shots then?

He was an unquestionable bastard.

You: I’ll need the extra bullets as payback for the bruises.

Asshole: Some of them you asked for.

Having crossed over to your target stand, you not only ripped off the already damaged page, but shredded it into tiny pieces. You had to get a hold of yourself and not give him an inch of satisfaction. You fully intended to leave him on read while you packed up. Firing more shots would help you in the short term, but you wanted to conserve that energy for the game he’d hopefully agree to. Heading back to your car, you heard your phone ping again. Scrunching up your nose, you pulled it out and raised a curious brow. The preview had a row of numbers. Opening the message, you found it to be coordinates along with a date. You sent only a check mark in response and set your sights on next Saturday.

-

It was only as you pulled onto yet another dirt road that you began to question your sanity. Driving out to the literal edge of nowhere to meet a man you barely knew probably wasn’t the smartest decision. At least you were armed. It would be more of a comfort if you didn’t already agree to him being armed as well. Pushing the thought down and clutching the steering wheel tight, you curved along with the road. You’d taken preliminary precautions; your friend knew your location and had bet money on Donatello beating you. It was the exact boost of confidence you knew to expect from them. They would have their own little downfall in time. You considered it a fun incentive to ensure your victory.

Another bend in the road revealed a longer stretch and odd rectangles dotting the distance. Your tires crawling along, you identified them as at least a dozen dilapidated shipping containers. Hunching forward, you stared at them curiously as you drove up. They were the epitome of displaced and you wondered who’d abandoned them out here. As far as your Maps was concerned, there wasn’t a residence for several miles. The road tapered off and a series of skirted patches of grass signaled for you to park. There was no other vehicle to be seen. Frowning, you checked your phone and found you were only a minute ahead of the meeting time. He seemed like both the type to be prick that’d keep you waiting and an incessant nag about punctuality. Exiting your car, you shrugging off the curiosity in exchange for preparations.

From your trunk, you applied your vest and accessed your gear. You’d already given everything a once over before leaving so there was little to observe. The first bubbles of irritation steaming, you leaned back and observed the sky. The cloudless blue expanse meant the sun was beaming down relentlessly. Rolling your eyes away from the insufferable star, you caught a flicker of light from atop a distant shipping container. Squinting, you watched as a black object shifted incrementally and a thin stream of barely there smoke wafted off the position.

At this point you welcomed the stoking of the flames.

You flipped off the direction of the sighting and watched as Donatello popped up from where he’d been lying down. You folded your arms and waited as he took his time putting out his cigarette. He then gathered up his gear and hopped down to the ground like it was nothing. You didn’t allow yourself to outwardly balk, but the containers were at least 8 feet tall. With his rifle slung, he strolled over lazily.

“Enjoy the show?” You bit out, moving to close your trunk with a slam.

“No. It was sloppy actually.” He responded evenly.

You craned your head back to glare at him. “Come again?”

“The back strap shouldn’t touch your neck.” Without saying another word, he slipped his hands around said tie and yanked you almost off your feet.

“Hey!” You barked and took a swing at him.

Using his handhold, he jerked you away. “You think you could take a helpful tip with some form of grace.”

“Put me down.” You ordered, reigning your limbs in.

He did so carefully and you could tell by the way he shifted his stance that he was prepared to run if you launched at him. Stewing, you settled into another scathing look. 

“It can be fixed. You just didn’t position it properly.” He pointed.

“Much like your attitude.” You spoke out the corner of your mouth as you undid a buckle.

A sharp exhale of breath from him meant he’d found your comment amusing. You could just picture his smarmy face. You needed to withhold that fury until you were on the field. Undoing the vest, you lifted it and prepared to lower it when a hand stalled you. Before you could blink, the vest was back down around your torso and the straps along the side were being strung tight. In the time it took you to move your pupils to make eye contact, the resounding click of the buckle signaled he was already done.

“It's faster that way.” He tossed over his shoulder and began to head toward the containers.

Gritting your teeth, you unholstered your handgun and pointed it at the back of his head. You watched him for several paces before lowering it. It wouldn’t be much longer. You filed in a frustrated line after him. As the first container approached, he did an about face and his posture snapped straight.

“Chest shots are automatic deaths. Four limb shots are the same. Any preference in rounds?”

You glanced at him before donning your goggles and a ball cap. “One and done seems a little too fast.”

“Let’s say three deaths is an out then.”

“How did you get here?”

“Pardon?” He didn’t falter, but tipped his head up gradually.

“There’s no other car in the parking… area.” You gestured back to where you’d come from.

“I stashed it.” He nodded towards the tree line flanking the west side of the field.

You looked to where he gestured and then back at him incredulously. “You’re joking.”

He folded his arms in a manner that said he wasn’t.

“So you’re this anal with everything.” You waved over his form.

“You mispronounced cautious.”

“You mispronounced paranoid.” Your quip came out so fast that you got to watch his expression in real time.

Instead of lining up another insult, his gaze seemed to darken instead. That had hit some kind of nerve. You shifted not out of discomfort, but from the sun’s stifling rays. “I’m assuming you agreed to ‘no bullshit’ rule already by coming out here?”

“The stage itself should prevent that.” He twisted his gun around into his hands.

“No getting on top of these things like you were earlier.”

“Fine.” He gave a tight nod.

“Then let’s play.” You shifted your weight in preparation to take off. “Two minute to positions?”

“I’ll even let you have a head start.”

There was a fraction of a second where you were almost grateful for the return off the asshole amidst his stuffy attitude. That was until you saw that damn cocky smile of his. Regardless, you took off to the right and heard the faint trailing of his laughter behind you. You were going to shoot that smile right off his face. Weaving around aged metal, you took note of the layout. Some of the containers were whole and others were warped; there were worn ones that had weathered to near collapse and some that were outright halved. Of the intact metal rectangles, none of them seemed to have accessible doors and were welded shut. It was nice to note a safety precaution in an otherwise abandoned setting.

Mentally ticking down the seconds, you steadied yourself as the timer ran out. You’d taken position near one of the farther blue containers not on the perimeter. Underfoot, sun bleached grass made the softest crunch that you needed to watch out for. Swallowing, you evened out your breathing and let the sounds come to you. Bugs buzzed, but the air was otherwise still and sticky. Raising your rifle, you peeked out from behind your cover. Seeing nothing, you jogged for the next container. There was the unmistakable echo of footsteps that seemed to be trying to mask under yours. Eyes narrowing, you pegged their position and twisted around the container to head for it. Leading barrel first, you jumped out from behind the container and found no one there. Drooping for a only a moment, you were forced forward a step when a single shot hit the dead center of your back.

Spinning around to the spot, you heard the faintest chuckle as he disappeared. The one on one parameters shifted the game in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Ducking behind another container, you reevaluated your strategy. It would be a jockeying of who moved first and then a series of reactionary actions. Scooting along the container, you dropped down low. Obviously listening for him was a fool’s errand since he could somehow throw his steps. You’d just have to move and try to keep him on his toes.

Darting out, you almost collided with him. Though he fired first, your proximity wasn’t something he accounted for and only one of the bullets hit your arm. You, on the other hand, fired directly into his chest.

“I see.” He remarked with a knowing tone before disappearing behind the container you’d just left from. Twirling around, you ran, putting distance between the two of you. Sweat began to gather on the back of your neck. Repeating the mantra of ‘keep him on his toes,’ you swayed to a halt and tried to picture how he’d adjust to your blind running. Smirking, you turned and immediately backtracked the exact line you’d run. Hearing the sharp reverberating of a body hitting an empty container, you twisted around and shot before your eyes hit the target. The spray hit Donatello across the chest and he glowered back at you.

“Be seeing ya!” You gave a punctuated wink before disappearing around another container. “In the grave!” You tacked on, twisting away from the direction you’d sent your voice. You were up, but it wasn’t time to get cocky. You had to keep shifting your strategy or he’d be able to gather his bearings. Without stopping, you made for the perimeter and kept a jog along it. The sun overhead beat down relentless on your gear. In a veritable pressure cooker, you neared the bottom half of the field and made a sharp left turn. A spray of bullets hit a container you passed and you returned fire. Refusing to stop, you listened above your own pants for a sign that he’d realize where you were headed. It wasn’t long until until his jogging boots thudded after you. You spun around and opened fire in a wide arch across the area behind you. You stilled, waiting as the container’s resonance to quiet.

It took several long moments before Donatello emerged with his hands up. As soon as he appeared you jumped into the air, letting your rifle drop from your hands.

“I did it!” You landed and pointed at him. “How’s it feel, dickhead!?”

He lowered his arms and evaluated you.

You straightened from where you’d bent a knee to gloat and watched him warily.

His eye lingered along your sweat soaked collar.

You stiffened against your will. It was hard to identify exactly what was off about his gaze, but it unsettled you. The sweep was near clinical, but being done through the scope of half-lidded eyes felt menacing. You were trapped and as soon as he caught wind of it, that smirk tugged at his lips. He took steps to close the distance between you and with each footfall it seemed to spread across his face. By the time he reached you, he was a tower of egotism. You’d won, so what did he have to gloat over?

“Don’t tell me your going to nitpick my performance?” You managed to bring your brows down in an approximation of a scowl.

“No.” There was an airy quality to his voice.

“Then what?” You felt tightly coiled.

“Want to play a round where I don’t hold back?”

This time the muscles contracting in your body were done in an attempt to hold yourself back. Your lip curled back and you instinctually bared your teeth. He’d gone lower than you’d even thought possible. “I get the feeling your bothers are the only ones who can stand to be around you out of sheer obligation.”

He gave a single dry snort. You didn’t think it was possible, but that damn smirk of his somehow grew.

“Laugh it up now…”

“We’ll even the odds.”

You had long reached your boiling point. “If you think-”

“I commend your playing. You unequivocally won, but you have no idea what you’re up against.”

“You bas-”

“If you can land a single hit…” He bent at the hips and brought his face up to yours.

You resisted the urge to spit in it immediately just to see how much saliva you needed to pack.

“…anywhere on my person, then you automatically win.” He gave a calculated tilt of his head. “As a reward, I’ll humiliate myself how you see fit.”

That was enough to give you pause. “In your whole life, has no one ever popped that horrific confidence bubble of yours?”

“Oh, they have.” He reached up and ran a finger down the scarring along his jaw. “But it’s been a long while.”

You watched the digit’s excruciatingly slow trek before realizing what he had done and snapped your gaze back to his. Amusement danced in his eyes and you turned your head slightly away.

“Fine. I’ll play, but you better be ready.” You set your own cocksure grin to as high a degree as you could muster.

He gave an satisfied nod before straightening.

Something about it gave you pause. “What do you get if you win?”

“I’ll have won.” He said simply, gathering his rifle.

His mere existence brought bile to your throat. “Two minutes?” The faster you could clear this, the faster you could garner your reward.

“Sure.” His nonchalance was somehow even more antagonistic.

You turned but refused to give him the satisfaction of running. You sauntered until you cleared the first container and then picked up your pace as you again started a mental countdown. Finding a sliver of shade, you held back your rifle and weighed your options. He was surely taunting you to a point, but there was more to it. For one, there had been Mikey’s comment from the last game about humans. It was easy enough to acknowledge mutant prowess, but their abilities could fluctuate so wildly. You didn’t have a the best handle on what Donatello’s were. Of the few tastes you’d gotten, the one that stuck out to you was when he adjusted your vest. You undoubtedly would have to contend with that speed. If he could keep up that pace, then you were outmatched.

With the last seconds timing out, you refilled your rifle’s magazine. You only needed to land a single shot so laying down cover fire was your best bet. Shifting, you inched down the container and spied the next. It was one of the dilapidated ones where part of it was missing. If you could nestle yourself into the leftover corner, you’d only have to cover your front. Nodding to yourself, you mad a dash for it and felt several nips at your heels. It caused you to skid into your destination and whirl around wildly.

“Two shots to the legs.” His voice floated in with no discernible source.

You aimed your rifle and scanned the best you could. From your far right you felt a single shot hit your shoulder.

“One to the arm.”

You turned your head to where the BB had come. There was no one there. You grit your teeth. Turning back, you found him standing right next to you.

“Boo.” He said simply before pulling the trigger into your right arm.

You bit down on a scream and instead twisted to swing your rifle at him.

He leaned away from the action and caught the butt of your gun with ease.

“How…?” You hadn’t meant to voice your surprise.

He leaned his head to the side and gave a smile that had a malevolent edge to it.

It made the hairs on the back of your neck rise up.

You also couldn’t help but stare at the way it showed off one of his pointed canines.

“Shall we call this off?”

“Isn’t it still to three?” You were almost glad your gun was creating space between you.

“Yes, well…” He trailed off and shifted his grip. You glanced down as he returned your rifle to you. Hugging the gun close, you brought a wary eye back to him. “I figured I’d give you an out.”

“Think your smoke and mirrors play scared me?” You tore your eyes away and off to the playing field.

“I know it did.” He replied, taking a languid step back.

“Sneaking up on someone doesn’t really count.” You set your jaw to keep from glancing after him. “If I’d done the same to you, I bet you would have jumped.”

He gave a little hum as he pondered your assertion. “I suppose I would find it surprising.”

“There you go.” You inched your neck towards him, but kept your eyes down. The silence wedged itself between you and you examined his boots. “You take off this time.”

“Fine by me.”

You lifted your eyes to watch as he took a single step back. You weren’t sure if you blinked, but within the next second he simply vanished. Your jaw didn’t drop, but your lips parted. Super speed didn’t seem like a severe enough descriptor. That paired with his insane reflexes meant whatever chances you’d even considered were quickly dwindling. Having had no luck in your current position, you turned and peeled off. Outrunning him was out of the question, so you pivoted hard enough to carve out a divot in the field. Twisting around you made it a few more strides before repeating the action. A bullet ricocheted off a container you neared.

You smiled and fired your rifle over your shoulder. You were pretty sure it uselessly shot skyward, but it was a warning. Twirling, you continued to rhythmless scurrying. Pushing your limbs to the limit, you heard the nicks of BBs piercing the soil around you. He wasn’t calling strikes so your unpredictable movements were at least partially doing their job. It wasn’t something you could sustain, so you started to fire your gun in a similar haphazard nature. Whizzing discharge kicked up a cacophony of sound. It was only matched by your palpating heartbeat as it began to thrum in your ears. Overhead the sun watched your display with merciless criticism. Feeling the rays nearly piercing your blood vessels, you made hexagonal footwork to the edge of the field and rounded the cover of a container.

You dropped to your knees as soon it afforded you shelter. Immediately the labored breaths forced their way past your lips and you fisted dried matchsticks of grass. You watched as several beads of sweat fell from your brow and were instantly absorbed by the cracked soil.

“I applaud you.”

Hearing his voice from above, you rolled over onto your back and took aim at him.

His hands raised up in armistice as you spotted him on top of the container.

“Is that how you’ve been getting around?” You went limp and your gun teetered on your chest.

“No.”

“You’re not cheating? You said you wouldn't get up there!” You wouldn’t admit it to him, but it was nice to have a moment to catch your breath.

“I agreed to the terms. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Then what are you doing?”

He stared in a way that said to check his last sentence.

You sneered at him. “You know what I mean.”

“It isn’t often that I get to see something new. I wanted to acknowledge that.”

“New?” You’d humor him if only to prolong your break. Snapping open one of your vest’s pouches, you retrieved a handkerchief and wiped your face.

“No, there’s been a lot of attempts to weave from my bullets, but that was quite the spectacle.”  

You made a show of giving a fake laugh and replaced the dirtied cloth into its pocket. “I guess we’ll call it a preview.”

“You’ll be able to do it again?” There was a mixture of doubt and mirth swirling in his tone.

You shot him a glare and snapped to your feet. Even under the intense heat, you could feel the flicker of that angry fire in your chest. You’d almost forgotten about it. It was about time it showed back up. “More like a preview for when I beat you.”

“Oh ho!” He disappeared from sight and you heard him drop down heavily on the other side of the container. You instantly knew it was a signal that the next match had kicked off. Your blood pressure dropped as you twisted around the container, gun ready. He was unfortunately correct. There was no way you could put on the same dodge tactic again. Not unless you lost the vest to free up some extra movement. Deciding against it, you came around the side of the container he’d landed and laid down a line of fire. Spinning around, you then fired off a line of shots where you’d come from and glimpsed his form duck back out of sight.

You waited in hopes to hear his voice, but were met with silence. “Your elusive ass will call it if I hit you, right?!”

“You’re wasting your breath.”

You understood it as an affirmation, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Parting a glare at the sun, you continued the back and forth spree until you glimpsed his form far to the right. Spinning, you slipped right back to whence you had come and prepared to start the process over again. What you weren’t ready for was him to materialize behind you and firing a handgun shot straight into your back.

“I take back my earlier applause.”

In two steps, you danced around and, against the unwritten rules of the game, you fired your own handgun where he had once been.

“You're being unsportsmanlike.”

“You’re one to talk!” You were on the move before you could process where your feet were carrying you. A scatter of shots followed your heels as you slid behind another container. Your back slammed against it and the heat from its sunbathed exterior wafted through your vest. Refusing to linger, you were on the move again paving the way with a spray of pellets. The much needed adrenaline was finally pumping through your veins. Somehow skirting another burst from your opponent, you returned fire. The blazing determination to crush Donatello made every step feel like scorched earth. Keeping your back to another container, you fired straight down to the end of your clip. You quickly exchanged magazines before realizing you were in the same alcove where you’d taken your first loss.

Suddenly on guard, you dove to the right on pure instinct and heard several shots echo off the dull metal. Lifting onto your palms you swiveled your head to find him out in the open, his gun trained on you. Even the bugs seemed to fall under the hush as you winced for the oncoming shot. Instead, you were met with the harsh click of an empty barrel. Blood rushed to your limbs and you made for your hand gun. You could feel the counter of each nano second as the gun slipped into one hand. Your other pushed off the grass. One leg swept outward and the other slid up on a knee. Rolling through the motion, you glimpsed him scrambling to replace his magazine. A smile bloomed on your face as the realization that you’d outpace him came. Blades clipped at your feet as you stood and your arm brought the gun up to position. You watched as the magazine seemingly slipped from Donatello’s fingers while yours pulled back on the trigger.

The resounding gong of your back slamming against the container was so loud your hearing was temporarily muffled. Dizzy from both the impact and subsequent sound, you stared weakly at your opponent. Still in the same place across from you, Donatello had his arm stretched out in your direction. Confused, you squinted at him and looked for your handgun. It lay at your feet so you moved to grab it. The immovable tug of your vest came first. Then the searing pain. In a way it was sobering. You barely needed to turn your head before the hilt of a large knife came into view.

“Did…” The words were on your lips but it seemed too absurd. “…Did you stab me?”

“Technically one needs to have a grip on the object for it to be a stabbing.”

“Asshole!” You reached up with your free hand to grab the knife.

“Stop!” He was moving towards you, but you refused and wrapped your fingers around the handle.

You were about to tug when your wrist was harshly pulled away. “What is wrong with you!?”

“Would you listen for just one second!?” He pulled your free wrist further and leaned in to examine the blade.

“Hard to when there’s a KNIFE IN MY SHOULDER!” You screamed directly into his ear and kicked at him.

Instead of dodging, he twisted into the motion and used his own legs to pin yours against the container. He then flipped his grip on your wrist and slammed it into the metal as well. Putting all the rest of your anger into a heated glare, you watched as he shifted out of focus and his forehead butted up against yours. When he spoke, his voice was lethally low. “Be quiet like a good girl for once in your damn life and let me fix this.”

He let his gaze wither you until he turned his attention back to the knife. With only one free hand, he studied the object and tested the vest around it. You preemptively winced as he pressed down, but the pain didn’t come as you anticipated.

“It just nicked you. You’ll barely need a bandage.” He grabbed the hilt and in one swift movement pulled it up and out. Slumping down, but still caught by his body pining yours, you watched as he surveyed the blade.

“Oh no, did my body hurt your precious knife?” You fluttered your lashes and feigned a pursed lip.

“Considering the position you’re in, you think you’d know when to shut your mouth.”

“Position?” You nearly gagged on the scoff.

You heard a low rumble of curiosity thrum from his chest as he put more of his weight onto your pinned limbs. You shot him back a bright smile that he narrowed his gaze at. With your newly freed arm, you shot up to swat at his face. Reflexively, he disarmed the move, but seeing as his only free hand was the one with the knife in it, the blade stopped millimeters shy of your cheek.

Your eyes flicked from the blurry black steel to his.

“Understand yet?” He warned, the blade just barely skimming your flesh.

You swallowed down your racing heart beat and mustered a scowl. 

“You’ll never learn.” He gave the knife a light press until it was just biting your skin before removing it.

“Maybe because you’re a shit teacher.”

From where he was slipping the knife back into his vest, the corner of his mouth downturned.

For every bit it descended, yours rose.

“Ask nicely and I’ll prove you wrong.”

“Get fucked.” You nearly spat.

“If you insist.”

For a moment his body left yours and it felt like gravity double as your weight returned to your feet. Swaying from the shift, you barely raised your head when he returned. You could hardly focus on the rest of his body as his hand snaked up your throat. Between a thumb and finger, he squeezed your jaw bone. The move tipped your head back and he hovered over you threateningly.

“Well?” He urged, his breath hot against your lips.

You let your lashes slowly descend and focused on carefully sneaking one of your arms between your chests. As your lids rose from the blink, you fisted the front of his shirt and yanked. In the sliver of time before your lips collided you watched with satisfaction as surprise painted his features. You almost wished you could savor it longer as your eyes instinctually closed and his mouth moved harshly against yours. He still had a grip on your throat and it made anything other than the hand you beat against his chest useless.

Dipping down, he pressed your head against the container’s wall until the metal creaked in protest. It freed up more space between your chests and you fought a blind battle of trying to capture one another’s limbs. Down an arm, you prevailed and twisted your fingers underneath his glove. Finding his pulse point, you dug your nails in and he hissed into your mouth. Breaking the lip lock, he pulled back and flicked your hand away. You watched until he brought his gaze back up and gave him a coy smile.

“Absolutely infuriating.” His voice seethed, but his hand curled away from your jaw to grip your head. You watched the way his chest heaved with mounting excitement.

“You agreed to the rematch.”

There was a flash of irritation in his eye that all but caused your stomach to flip. This time when he attacked, you were ready for him. You strung your arms around his neck and met him with a similar crushing force. Your tongues tangled and in time your knotted your limbs to put pressure onto his shoulders. In return, he scrapped your waist for your hips and pulled you up by your ass. You awkwardly raised your legs for a moment until his knee dipped to give you leverage. Once you got them wrapped around him, he easily hoisted you up and crushed you against the metal. That knot of fury had morphed into one of enraged need and every fervent contact was not enough to satisfy. You started clawing at him in a desperate attempt to quell the feeling.

In one swift move, he broke the kiss and threw his head back so it crushed your fingers. He then tipped forward incrementally with a punctuated glare.

You flexed your stinging digits and returned the gaze twofold.

“Now you’re quiet.” He snipped, bringing a knee up to balance you.

You pressed down hard on your lips to keep from responding. Instead you watched as he freed up his hands and undid his vest. He shrugged the armor off and crowded you.

“Better?”

“I could take it or leave it.”

He growled as he captured your lips again. Free from its halter, you grabbed at his shirt again and bunched the material up. When he leaned down, you assumed it was to pull the fabric off. You followed through with the motion, but when he arose he was both shirtless and your own vest dangled on your shoulders until he made a show of flicking its last toe hold off. 

“Stupid nimble fingers.” You ground out.

He chuckled into your ear as he bit down on the lobe. You gasped and ran your nails along his newly exposed flesh. His lips trailed scorching kisses down your neck and you were about to plot your next move when he nosed the collar of your shirt. Pausing at the sensation, your muscles contracted as his tongue languidly trailed flat across your jugular and back up to your ear. You hadn’t realized the moan had left your lips until the tail end of it reached your ears. Emboldened by it, he dipped down again, this time taking the scruff of the fabric by his teeth. You were about to inquire about the move when his hands left you. You craned your neck to catch a glimpse, but only the sound of a clean slice through taunt fabric followed.

“H-hey!” You barked as the fabric around your torso loosened.

He surfaced only long enough to show you his pupils were blown wide with lust.

Partially stunned by the glance, you shivered at the sensation of the fabric being peeled from your body. You hadn’t realized how sweaty you had gotten until that exact moment. The stagnant air didn’t do much to cool you as Donatello seared hickies and bites into as much of your skin as he could get his mouth on. Rapidly losing ground, the moment your arm muscles even twitched, he had your wrists pinned. You whined in frustration until your bra slipped off your shoulders and slid down until it was trapped around your waist.

“You-!” Was all you could get out before your words were strangled by his teeth biting into your left breast.

Left without much to do, you uselessly bucked your hips, but found with him bent over laving at your chest meant his were arched away. You wanted to scream, but again the sound was squashed as he turned his attention to your other breast. Whimpering, you squirmed and in doing so writhed until of his hands loosened their grip. You snapped it free and heard the wet pop of him extracting his mouth from your body. Moving out of pure spite, you pinched the top of his bandana and pulled it clean off his head. Holding the fabric high and away, you glanced down at him victorious, but found a partially annoyed expression instead.

“Your…” You looked up at the fabric and ran a thumb over the drawn on black lines. “You-!” The elation in your voice was turned into a small scream as you were jerked from him and spun around. Jarring under having your weight on your legs once again, you wobbled as one of his hands traced down your sternum and straight to your pants line. Your head lolled back onto his shoulder and he placed nippy pecks along your jaw. His other hand massaged at one of your shoulders and under the guise of kneading flesh, he guided you into arching your back. His body slotted heavily against yours and he undid your belt with one hand. A faraway thought cursed his nimble fingers again, but it never reached your lips.

In another set of deft moves, your fly was down and his fingers slid down into your heat. You fumed at a hitch in his movements, knowing he was taking into account how wet you were. You could feel that smug smile on his lips as he pressed them into the small cut on your shoulder. It took until his the tip of his finger coaxed your clit that you realized he’d left your arms free. You brought them up and groped at the back of his head for leverage. He sped up the digit and in turn you ground you ass back into his hips. He gave an appreciative snarl and pushed forward until his fingers slipped into your folds and his thumb took steering duty.

You nearly thrashed at the sensation, but his free hand kept you pinned as he massaged at any available skin. Shifting automatically, you squatted down in an attempt to open up for him. It made your cheeks burn more than the stifling heat. For once, he didn’t take the time to humiliate you and instead rewarded you by finally slipping a rugged digit inside. The moans escaped you in time as he finger fucked you. His arm jerked rapidly and the sloppy sounds would have been mortifying if you had the mental capacity to acknowledge them. Amongst the onslaught, your underwear and pants relinquished their hold on your hips and your voice peaked. In a repeated mantra your mind narrowed in on your eminent release. With the crest rapidly approached, you limped back into him to finish you off. As soon as you did, he all but disappeared.

A strangled yell ripped from your throat in anger as gravity tugged you down. Rotating an arm, Donatello hooked you around your waist. You dangled limply from the move as you grappled to get your body to obey.

“What…” You panted, anger bubbling up over the arousal and winning out. “What the fuck!?”

He didn’t respond and actively kept you from getting a glimpse of him.

The fury manifested into flailing and soon you were on your feet. You pummeled his arm the best you could even though you knew he was still holding you in case you weren’t ready to take weight on your stems. When your feet were confidently planted, he retreated. You immediately attempted to chase the limb back to its infernal owner. Instead your vision blacked out for a moment when your vest suddenly dropped down around you.

“What-!” You protested as best you could, but his speed and strength soon had your arms slotted through their correct holds. “Is-!” You tried to kick out your feet, but your pants were still pooled around your ankles. “Wrong-!” The side straps tightened so rapidly it almost knocked the air out of you. “With-!” He gave your shoulder straps a final testing tug and then, once again, you were left to your own devices. You heard the telltale thud of a belt hitting the ground. “You!?” You spun around and were met with a carnal gaze. You knew how you must look; clad in almost nothing but the vest and desire leaking down your leg. He was admiring his work.

“Asshole.” You breathed near silently, but it still brought a smile to his lips. Amongst a blink, he was on you and then out of sight as you were spun back towards the container wall. You had another biting remark on your tongue when his hand slipped through the back strap of your vest and you were off your feet. Your hands flew out useless and smacked against the metal with a resounding gong. You waited for your hips to swing forward, but his arm hooked around them. He then shifted you until you were horizontal with the ground.

“Donatello?” You despised how meek your voice sounded.

With one arm threaded through your vest and the other around your hips, you felt like you were being brandished like a Minigun. Degrading didn’t even come close to enough word for how it felt.

“Another game…” His voice sounded thick and he seemed to be struggling to form words. “I’m going to fuck you.”

It was such a obvious point that you wanted to scream about it, but instead your lips continued to betray you. “No-”

“Not like this?” He questioned, his voice like syrup. Adjusting your hips, you felt his scorching tip line up with your core.

With one hand pressed flat for a modicum of leverage against the wall, your other flew back and caught his limb at your waist.

“Try to resist me.” He ordered and a mewl slipped out as his cock began to press in.

Your fingers encircled his forearm.

“I’ll go in little by little.”

You felt yourself being incrementally split by him.

“If you say so or push me back even the slightest bit, I’ll stop.”

You opened your mouth to protest but only a loud moan escaped.

“Go on…” Even amongst the desire, he managed a teasing note.

It brought indignant tears to your eyes. Torn between humiliation and yearning for him to fill you, they trickled down your cheeks.

He seemed to just keep going.

You cried out at the tenuous pace.

“Almost…”

“Please-!” You managed, but its inflection was completely wrong.

You’d begged him.

He still drug out the process at the same speed until you could only tell he was completely sheathed inside when his plastron bit into your ass cheeks.

For what seemed like a long moment, he stayed there with the only sound being your panting against his agonizing length. You weren’t sure if he was letting you adjust, but just as the fringes of your mind returned, he pulled back and rocked into you in one sharp buck. You screamed out as he continued the pace in excruciating rhythm. At first you helplessly cried out with each stroke, but the sound echoing off the metal brought one of your hands back to cover your mouth. He slowed as soon as you did and poured himself over you.

“Don’t worry, you can enjoy this to your heart’s content. No one else is around.” He adjusted his stance and you seized as he twitched inside you.

“Almost…” You gasped. “… like… you… planned… this…”

“And you called me paranoid.” There was an edge to his voice.

Even with all your neurons firing wildly, it brought back something you’d made note of. “That’s… what touched… a nerve!?”

You incredulous tone hit another because he pointedly began fucking into your g-spot. It left you a howling mess. The arm around your waist shifted until he could reach your clit and as soon as it made contact your voice hit a high you hadn’t know was possible. Keeping a brutal pace, he thrust into you until the edges of your vision began to black out. Your voice stopped reaching your ears. Distant breathy gasps were all around you and the slick from both your sweats commingled into one continuous fluid. You crest rushed in with the speed of a roaring wave and the shift in his pace said he also knew it was coming. With the last shreds of your sanity, you mental beseeched him to not edge you out again. You weren’t able to be pleasantly surprised when the orgasm hit because it mangled any coherent thought.

Lolling back, it felt like par for the course when gravity seemed to rotate around you. Your vision faded to fuzzy snippets. When you came too, you found you were sitting reverse cowgirl. Staring up at the faint lip of the container, your lips were parted and you quickly closed them as drool threatened to leak out. You weakly siphoned as much oxygen as you could when a heated blast shot up in your belly. You choked on a groan as he pulsated inside you. The little tinge after thrusts felt like a rocking boat and only his hands around your waist kept you upright.

Dizzy, you leaned forward and the uncomfortable fabric of the vest made itself known by chaffing your nipples. You were about to try to put that into words when you watched one of his hands snake up and unclip your vest. You dumbly marveled at his ability to read minds as he undid the straps and pulled the piece from you. You craned your head over your shoulder the best you could to get a look at him. You couldn’t really see him, but he seemed to be struggling with something.  

It elicited a small chuckle from you.

“Something funny?” His voice was hoarse.

You shook your head and he sat up. It caused you to clench around him and your eyes widened as you realized he was still semi-hard.

You made a noise of surprise and he seared a kiss into your injured shoulder. You wilted under it and an arm snaked around your front. You watched it curiously and in your weakened state you didn’t notice when its partner joined. The first hand curled under your chin and a thumb slid up over your bottom lip coaxing your mouth open. Tipsy, you allowed it and the second hand popped something into your mouth. A protest immediately wormed its way up your throat, but his hand snapped your mouth shut.

“Calcium Carbonate.” He said as if that answered everything. “I need you to stay conscious.” One of his hands disappeared before quickly returning with a canteen. Your arms didn’t seem to obey and he helped you drink down the cool liquid. 

Blinking, you came to a realization; you were going to have sex again.

Trailing more kisses along your upper back, you whimpered as he tipped you over into the grass without ever pulling out. Now on your side, you turned to say something when his mouth slotted over yours. Whether it had been a protest or an affirmation, the kiss stole away the memory. He didn’t start pounding right away, but instead shallowly rocked against you while coaxing your knees up to give him better access. It helped ease you out of your previous orgasm, while building up a foundation for the next. As soon as you found some strength to fight back against his tongue, his hands moved to tease your breasts. You moaned into his mouth and in return his cock plunged deeper into you. You weren’t sure how he did it, but without breaking stride, he somehow maneuvered you onto your back and moved one of your legs out of the way to fuck you missionary.

Coiled around one another, you both confined to protest against the tenderness of the position. You clawed at the back of his head and he left new sets of bite marks along your collarbone. Each kiss was a renewed contest of dominance and even though you were beyond overstimulated, you’d routinely rock into his hips which earned a hiccup in his labored breath every single time. With both your second orgasms in eminent collision, he broke away from your lips and curled his head into the crook of your neck. It might have been the position you were in, but you were overcome by affection. Lifting your nails away, you cradled his head to you with one hand and flatly palmed the spot between his shoulder blades with the other. His thrusts became more erratic and some words found their way into your mouth.

“Come for me.”

He obeyed and between the scalding spurts of cum you felt yourself unravel once again. What followed was discordant breathing and limp collapse. Slowly, he eventually peeled his body off of yours and you nearly gagged at the sweaty plastic wrap sensation of it all. He didn’t make it far and propped his head up as he lay beside you. You continued to lay on your back and stared up as you counted your still quickened heartbeat. Eventually, the exhaustion and omnipresent heat pulled your head to the side and you looked at him. His lids were low, but the fondness there was palpable.

“Going soft on me?” You asked, your hand drunkenly reaching for him. He caught it with his free one and held it close to his chest.

“Technically...?” He mustered a small grin.

You groaned and closed your eyes.

“Since I’ve already put you off, may I add to it?”

“Why not?” You retorted dryly, though there was an upward tugging at the corners of your lips.

“There will never be a good time at this point so here goes: I never did get your name.”

Your eyes snapped out in righteous fury.  

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