#he’s so dramatic and also the biggest loser on the planet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

duskholland · 4 years ago

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Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut

ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.

summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around... word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni. a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3 —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!

extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)

✧ *:･ﾟCrash Into You ･ﾟ:*✧

“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”

You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.

“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.

Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.

“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”

The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.

“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”

You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”

She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”

“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”

“No. What happened?”

You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.

“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”

Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”

You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”

Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.

“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.

Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.

You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.

There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.

“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.

Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.

A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition—in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.

Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.

Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”

Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.

“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.

You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.

Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.

“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.

“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”

You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.

“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.

Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?

He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”

You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.

“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”

You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.

“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.

“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”

You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.

“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”

The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.

You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”

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Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.

The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.

For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.

You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.

He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.

“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”

You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”

You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”

Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.

“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”

He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”

You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.

“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.

“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.

Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”

Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.

You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”

“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”

Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.

“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”

You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”

Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.

“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”

There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”

You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.

“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.

“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.

You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”

Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”

“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”

You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.

“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”

Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”

You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.

“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”

You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.

“There!” you announce, smile on your face.

Tom gulps nervously.

“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.

Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”

His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”

You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.

“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”

Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

“Not properly.”

Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”

You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.

“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”

You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”

You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.

Tom cackles.

“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.

“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.

Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.

He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”

“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.

Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.

“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”

You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”

You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.

“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”

He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.

“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.

Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.

“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Follow my line in.”

Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.

It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.

“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”

“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”

He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.

You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.

Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”

All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.

“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”

Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?

“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.

“Me too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.

One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.

It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.

His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.

Tom follows you…?

Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.

Interesting.

After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.

“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.

“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”

“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”

He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.

“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.

Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”

You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.

“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”

Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”

Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”

He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.

He’s cute.

“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”

You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”

Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.

Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.

Y/N: hey x

A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.

Tom: hi xx

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.

Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.

Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”

You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.

“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”

You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.

“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”

You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.

“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”

It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.

Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.

“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”

“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”

“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”

Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise—men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.

“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”

“Wait, is it a home game?”

Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”

You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.

“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”

He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”

It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.

“Absolutely.”

You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.

“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.

Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”

You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”

“Give me a spin, darling.”

You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.

“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”

It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”

Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”

Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.

“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”

He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”

“Dutchy?” you question.

Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”

You coo. “That’s cute.”

Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.

“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.

Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.

The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.

And Tom… Tom.

Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.

Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.

The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.

He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.

The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.

The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.

“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”

You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.

“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.

“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”

Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.

“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”

A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.

Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.

You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”

Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”

He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”

It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”

Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Hmm?”

“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”

You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”

Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.

“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.

You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.

The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.

On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.

“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”

The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.

“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”

You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.

“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.

There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.

“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”

Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”

You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,

“Yes. Loved it.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”

He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”

The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.

“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”

Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”

You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”

“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.

“Yeah. Friends.”

He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.

“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”

Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.

“Did you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you think I was hot?”

It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”

Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”

“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”

His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.

“Thanks, darling.”

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.

“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”

“What, sweetheart?”

Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.

It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.

There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.

“D’you want to—”

“Oi, Dutchy!”

You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.

“What?”

You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”

Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.

“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”

He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”

You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.

Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”

“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.

“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.

“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.

You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.

Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.

Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.

“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”

It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.

“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.

“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”

You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.

“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.

“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.

Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”

“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”

A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.

You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.

…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.

You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.

“What— Tom?”

For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.

“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”

You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”

Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.

“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”

“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won’t ever be able to do it.”

“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”

Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.

“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.

Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”

You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”

He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.

“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”

You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.

“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”

Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.

By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.

“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”

You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”

He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”

Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.

“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”

You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”

Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.

You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.

The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.

“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.

He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.

“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”

You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.

“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”

His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.

“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”

Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.

“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”

He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.

Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.

“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”

Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”

Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.

“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”

You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”

Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.

“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s noisy in the arena.

With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.

The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.

You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.

He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.

It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.

“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”

Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.

“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”

Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.

“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”

You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”

Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.

Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.

Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.

“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”

Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”

You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”

Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”

You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.

The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.

You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.

“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”

“Yeah. Penalty.”

“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”

He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.

“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”

“Mmm. Harry said so.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”

You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.

“Funnier than me?”

“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”

“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”

Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.

“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”

He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”

“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”

Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.

It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.

You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.

“Y/N!”

You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.

“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.

“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”

Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.

You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.

“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”

A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.

“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”

Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.

“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.

“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.

A smile breaks out across your face.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”

Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.

“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.

His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.

“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”

You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.

“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.

“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.

You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”

Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.

It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.

“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”

“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.

Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.

“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”

The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.

“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”

“Overnight?”

“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.

Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.

“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.

You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.

Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.

The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.

You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.

“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.

Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.

“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.

“You can open them now.”

It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.

“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”

You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.

“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”

Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.

“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”

Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”

“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”

Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.

“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”

Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”

The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”

Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”

You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”

His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”

Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.

(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!

mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland fluff #hockey!tomfic #tblr....please let me in the tags...? please?

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sciencespies · 3 years ago

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Cities are making mammals bigger

https://sciencespies.com/nature/cities-are-making-mammals-bigger/

Cities are making mammals bigger

A new study shows urbanization is causing many mammal species to grow bigger, possibly because of readily available food in places packed with people.

The finding runs counter to many scientists’ hypothesis that cities would trigger mammals to get smaller over time. Buildings and roads trap and re-emit a greater degree of heat than green landscapes, causing cities to have higher temperatures than their surroundings, a phenomenon known as the urban heat island effect. Animals in warmer climates tend to be smaller than the same species in colder environments, a classic biological principle called Bergmann’s Rule.

But Florida Museum of Natural History researchers discovered an unexpected pattern when they analyzed nearly 140,500 measurements of body length and mass from more than 100 North American mammal species collected over 80 years: City-dwelling mammals are both longer and heftier than their rural counterparts.

“In theory, animals in cities should be getting smaller because of these heat island effects, but we didn’t find evidence for this happening in mammals,” said study lead author Maggie Hantak, a Florida Museum postdoctoral researcher. “This paper is a good argument for why we can’t assume Bergmann’s Rule or climate alone is important in determining the size of animals.”

Hantak and her collaborators created a model that examined how climate and the density of people living in a given area — a proxy for urbanization — influence the size of mammals. As temperatures dropped, both body length and mass increased in most mammal species studied, evidence of Bergmann’s Rule at work, but the trend was stronger in areas with more people.

Surprisingly, mammals in cities generally grew larger regardless of temperature, suggesting urbanization rivals or exceeds climate in driving mammal body size, said Robert Guralnick, Florida Museum curator of biodiversity informatics.

“That wasn’t what we expected to find at all,” he said. “But urbanization represents this new disturbance of the natural landscape that didn’t exist thousands of years ago. It’s important to recognize that it’s having a huge impact.”

About a decade ago, scientists began to raise the alarm that warmer temperatures brought by climate change are causing many animal species to grow smaller over time. While many of the consequences of shifting body size are unknown, researchers cautioned that smaller animals may have smaller or fewer offspring, creating a feedback loop, and shrinking prey could also put pressure on meat-eaters to find more resources.

Guralnick and Hantak said they hope their findings will lead more researchers to add urbanization to their analyses of changing body size.

“When we think about what’s going to happen to mammalian body size over the next 100 years, a lot of people frame that as global warming causing animals to get smaller,” Guralnick said. “What if that isn’t the biggest effect? What if it’s that urbanization is going to lead to fatter mammals?”

Not all animals respond to human-induced environmental changes in the same way, Hantak added. The researchers also investigated how the effects of climate and urbanization may be tempered or amplified by the behavior and habits of certain species.

They found animals that use hibernation or torpor, a temporary way of slowing metabolic rate and dropping body temperature, shrank more dramatically in response to increases in temperature than animals without these traits. The finding could have important implications for conservation efforts, Hantak said.

“We thought species that use torpor or hibernation would be able to hide from the effects of unfavorable temperatures, but it seems they’re actually more sensitive,” she said.

While cities radically transform the landscape, they provide animals with new opportunities as well as threats, Guralnick said. The abundance of food, water and shelter and relative lack of predators in cities may help certain species succeed in comparison with their neighbors in rural areas. The results of the 2020 U.S. Census show that almost all human population growth over the past decade has occurred in the nation’s metro areas. As urbanization ramps up, animals could be divided into “winners and losers,” and mammal distributions may shift, he said.

“Animals that like living in urban environments could have a selective advantage while other species may lose out because of the continued fragmentation of landscapes,” Guralnick said. “This is relevant to how we think about managing suburban and urban areas and our wildlands in 100 years.”

While bigger is often better biologically, the long-term consequences to urban mammals of eating a diet of human food waste have yet to be determined, Hantak said.

“When you change size, it could change your whole lifestyle,” she said.

Hantak and her collaborators were able to conduct the study thanks to thousands of measurements collected by natural historians in the field and museums. The research team used information from three databases: VertNet, the National Science Foundation’s National Ecological Observatory Network (NEON) and the North American Census of Small Mammals (NASCM). Cumulatively, this data offers a broadscale view of how increasing urbanization is impacting mammals with very different life histories, from wolves, bobcats and deer to bats, shrews and rodents, Guralnick said.

“Museum collections have the power to tell us stories about the natural world,” he said. “Because we have these collections, we can ask questions about what mammals looked like before humans dominated the landscape. Digitizing specimen data unlocks these resources so that everyone can make discoveries about our planet.”

The researchers published their findings in Communications Biology.

Bryan McLean of the University of North Carolina Greensboro and Daijiang Li of Louisiana State University also co-authored the study. McLean and Li are former Florida Museum postdoctoral researchers.

#Nature

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itissadbutitsmy-life · 5 years ago

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the funniest jokes in bfdi

flower’s announcer crusher that she just. has, and everyone else just uses it too

trying to put out a fire by holding ice cube’s recovery center over the fire so she just falls into it endlessly

every single one of yellow face’s products, including but not limited to

fork attractant, for when you need a fork but don’t have the cutlery on hand

headphones you cannot change the volume on or remove

money slips, you just write an amount on them, and it counts as legal tender

“thats a pentagon!” “yeah! like if you took my name and added ‘Tagon’!“

in like episode 2 when they all run away from something and a second later flower casually power-walks away from it instead of running

when balloony deflated and a while later cloudy flies over and goes “i cannot believe it! this is a dead body!!”

“he’s not dead, he just needs a little help thats all! (starts reinflating him too fast) but i agree, he is a hindrance when he is deflate- ohh noooo”

hollow jawbreakers that sound can come into but can’t go out of

when they stuck loser in a jawbreaker they inverted it, so they can hear him talk to himself but he cant hear anything around him

no one seems to know that thats why they can hear him

one time they all ended up in space. because of budget cuts.

actually every time budget cuts lead to something that seems way cooler than their previous stuff, like sparkly purple lasers instead of a mechanical arm to eliminate people with

the consistently bad cake at stake prizes. one time it was just a block of ice cut into six pieces. one time it was dirty shovels.

the magical die of judgement

when freesmart drove across the ocean in their van and they managed it by holding their breath and each time one of them died they just recovered them and threw their corpse out the back

golf ball messing up naming her team by saying things like “we need to be another name” and ending up on teams called Another Name and A Better Name Than That

one team was formed entirely around learning to not kill people. pillow overhears them say “youre against killing?” and goes “:D did someone say killing??”

tennis ball admonishing rocky for not knowing how to write: “no arms is no excuse”

they had to find a needle in a haystack and needle just turned herself in, successfully

when they started using a board with the points written on it on flaps of paper instead of a computer screen, but due to budget cuts, it could only display two digits per contestant, so anyone who went over 100 started immediately dropping to the bottom of the rankings

when ice cube was sleeping at the cake of stake podiums and got shot up into the air at like 3000 mph

2763

when the eliminated contestants tried to escape the loser chamber and they just rolled it off into the ocean

theyre saved because the sun rises and picks them up out of the ocean

also apparently the chamber opens for like five minutes a day for sunlight, but instead of just climbing out during that time, which they seem to be capable of doing, they do a much more convoluted thing

they were sick of four so they got rid of him by multiplying him with donut, and it worked

ruby has some really weirdly specific ideas of beauty and coaches flower

the line delivery of “killing a bubble is as easy as one, two, th(pop)” “i just learned two things about bubble: she can be su i c i d a l and she’s S O D U M B she CANT even count to T H R E E!”

a few episodes later bubble angrily shows them she CAN count to three if she lives long enough to do so, and pencil and match are both like :O :O

bubbles first line in season four is her rapidly counting to ten before getting popped

the way each team breaks their jawbreakers

8 ball just goes “MNYAH” and bites it in half

"okay black hole, do the thing”

leafy tries to use woody’s tongue to lick it open even though rocky and balloony were doing just fine using acid

iance just going ‘bwehbwehbweh’ all licking the same one

team ice cube was doing a mix of bwebwhbehbbwehbw and loudly drilling it open with naily

when four loved so hard he shot eraser off over the horizon

when they’re discussing team names in season one and theyre all talking over each other so you cant hear what theyre saying, except match, who grabs a megaphone and screams “SMOKY HOT FIERY BUNS”

when needle made a cake and put so much yeast in it that it breached earth’s atmosphere and astronomers apparently began classing earth as part of a three planet system (”consisting of the earth, the moon, and something called ‘needles cake’”)

“it’s ice cube! and she’s shrinking?” “she’s falling”

saying “(x character)! wake up!!” when it’s unclear (to the audience) why a character looks silly or apparently isnt responding

blocky’s sleeping pose is him with his eyes wide open, sporting a big goofy grin and hugging his legs

david’s sleeping pose is him with X eyes

one time the contest was to fill a tank with water from crying, and golf ball immediately ordered tennis ball to cry. he couldn’t do it on command, so golf ball tried, and cried her first ever tear, just... her first one

when the prize was fortune cookies, the fortunes were bracelety’s notes about how much she loves ice cube

“four, where’d you get these fortunes again?” “dumpster!”

“lightning always forgets to fly, so he had to be the fake”

when they were flying paper planes and stapy accidentally stapled his teammates into theirs, and he just hovered next to it while he was talking to them before they all started to plummet

the entire scene where liy tries to use ice cube to force teardrop to talk

“i’ll hold teardrops jaw open and you wiggle her vocal chords”

“i hate you” “yeah i hate her too!” “no. i hate you.”

“ice cube will only stop when she WANTS to stop!” “i want to stop”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULD HELP ME! YOU SAID YOU WERE COOL!” “so r r y (starts wiggling)”

“ICE CUBE! I AM APPALLED!!!!!”

ice cube gets bitten and starts screaming while bracelety is yelling “YEAH ICE CUBE! I CANT HEAR YOU, LOUDER!!”

apparently everyone who hates golf ball gets physically sick when they get near her (or at least, ruby does and snowball did once he knew she was there)

blocky got eaten by a monster in episode two but it turned out the monster missed him by a bit so he was fine

taco’s teammates thought she was dead forever and wrote eulogies for her, and once they found out she was alive lollipop threw hers away, but saw kept hers because in her eyes they’re still valid!!

when things started to get dramatic in the s1 finale, and leafy called announcer on the phone and he was in a ball pit

loser’s trapped in a jawbreaker and the only thing with him is donut’s diary. the next time you see him he’s reading it furiously and it’s filled with color-coded sticky notes

pillow decided if you wave your arms it means all your “care spirit” is getting sucked out your arms and sent into space (”a true indicator that person doesn’t give a fluff”)

remote got hacked and her FIRST INSTINCT is to send the hackers a bomb

“if theres an announcer recovery center now, that means we can kill the announcer as much as we want and he’ll still come back to give us dream island!”

they ask black hole to push them in their swing and he says he can’t push, but he can pull like there’s no tomorrow

“no i can literally warp space time so that there will be no tomorrow” “yeah,h don’t do that.”

when they have a tiebreaker announcer pulls out a silk tie and goes “first team to break this tie wins”

the second time, almost before he finished speaking, snowball just reached over and ripped it in half effortlessly

“proves you don’t need frills to make a feast for the eyes!” “more like taco doesn’t need to be dead to be deceased in my eyes!!!”

they had a race where everyone on each team had their legs tied together (like a three-legged race, but with like six people on a team)

pen’s team was doing fine but he wasn’t, so they just dragged him along behind

snowball tied his team into a ball and dragged them himself, to predictable results, and wouldn’t stop until he got to the finish line even though it took him until after the sun went down

he failed, actually, and him and his team plummeted down a ravine when he passed out

“the opposite of dream island! night...nightmare moon!!”

donut stuck his arms through a one way camera to the moon (it transmits matter as well as light), and to fix the fact that his arms were on the moon and his body was on earth, he pushed the entire earth through the camera

the moon is smushed up against the earth now. it has not been resolved yet

“gelatin and firey tied their legs together and fell off” “ya, seems like the kind of thing they would do”

pencil got caught by a monster and couldnt get away, so they had to kill her so they could recover her somewhere else, and they let her pick how they did it, which lead to everyone just sawing her in half while she grinned ear to ear. she was singing too. iconic

but first, match, her best friend, started waggling a big butcher’s knife around at her going “hoohoo hoeheehee im killing pencil loookat me” and pencil said “match put your butterknife away, you have to ACTUALLY kill me”

and when they were sawing her in half bubble had the BIGGEST, most BLISSFUL grin, with her eyes half closed like a happy cat

bell asks for help making people stop climbing her string, and snowball assures her he can do it, but he’ll have to climb her string to get to them

then like twenty people followed him up

when writing utensil characters use themselves to write with

sometimes they have tiny versions of themselves (sans limbs), but sometimes they just like, pull their caps off and write with their heads

(the same scream noise they use every time a group of people screams) “HONESTLY! (grabs a new can of fork repellent from hammerspace) are you guys going to scream like that EVERY time i use up a can?”

dodecadangit

OH THANKS AN OCTADECILLION, MATCH

they were basically playing hot potato where if you look at someone who was glowing you’d catch the glow, and most teams ended up just chilling with their eyes closed, but golf ball yelled “EVERYONE GET ON MY ROCKET” and she and her team just left earth entirely

this did not stop them from catching the glow

someone’s like “the communicator dish still works” and book goes “oh,” dips a chip into the communicator dish and splashes dip everywhere, “THATS what this is?”

the, like, five minute long end-credits scene of ice cube falling off a cliff eternally

pencil tells ruby which button to press and she keeps getting it wrong, partly because NEW BUTTONS KEEP APPEARING

the poison antidote that has the side effect of making the recipient eat one other contestant

pencil coaching her teammates on how to jump higher

“MMR? I love measles, mumps, and rubella!”

“golf ball knows how to do, like, everything!” (cut to golf ball) “i don’t know how to do, like, anything”

basketball invited 8 ball to be on her team cuz they’re both balls, then 8 ball said “sure, and let’s adopt these three” in reference to three other ball characters

loser said when he was younger he used to play with a toy that was apparently only just invented an hour ago, and everyone, like 60 characters, immediately disowned him and started a turf war over the situation

“black hole, you’re strong! open this jar for me!”

(as the world is literally ending) “FLOWER! WHATAVE YOU DONE??” “i got this jar open!!!”

whenever a host dies or is otherwise put out of commission and the contestants just keep trucking along until they remember no one can get the prize if the host isn’t around to give it to them

that time announcer used like ten negatives in a sentence

the way announcer says “wow!” with more emotion than anything else he says? idk if it’s intentional, or even a joke, but it’s the best thing

(slow mo) “i want to cry now, i really do”

“and i cry acid”

ruby died of sadness and book made it big by selling her remains

when they say some line that’s just regular words in a slightly unique way, and then the line gets repeated throughout the series

announcer accidentally-on-purpose got everyone killed, except david (who’s immune to bugs), and he had a david cloner, so he just went ahead and replaced everyone with davids in costumes

halfway through cake at stake, the original contestants show up unexpectedly and explain that they “faked their deaths! obviously.”

“ive decided to not cancel bfdi!” “aw, seriously?”

the noises david and dora make when they do things, like clattering, or sprouting leaves

bubble and match pretending to be trees

“NO BUBBLE! TREES DONT SAY THAT!” “OH, RIGHT! FSSHHHHHH! FWWWSHH!!!!”

when nickel and coiny get close together bad things happen

“how’s the tree-climbing going?” “it’s okay, but it’d be easier if you helped. (swoop) okay, just got to the top”

“yes! I am the first one up the tree!” “that’s NOT true, I was here FIRST”

i guess we’ll just have to use this trebuchet tennis ball built before he died

“wha! yhad this the HWOLE TIME, I DIDN EVEN HAVE TO CLIMB THE TREE?” “physical exertion builds character :)”

when everyone’s begging four to bring back their dead teammates, especially saw, who lost her entire team, and four is like okay I’ll bring back one (1) person, and saw very reverently starts to ask him for her dead team leader, but grassy says “tennis ball!” and four listens to him instead, and everyone immediately starts nagging four again to bring back more important people

leafy, about to melt ice cube down for metal scrap: “ice cube, come on down! you can be my alloy!”

they met a new character and they’re like “who is that?” and pie’s like “I dunno, try squishing it”

“theres another one? whoa! it totally has a different texture from the first one!”

8 ball beginning every single statement with things like “although I don’t have a favorite number...”

“I do this!” (grabs pin and turns her, screaming, into a squiggly pile of lines) “pretty cool, dontcha think?”

“can,,,, you bring her back?” “no” (five seconds later) “HEY CHECK THIS OUT! (brings back pin)”

pen high fived black hole and his arm spaghettified

“what are you doing?” “im going to die!” “hi needle! he’s not going to die.”

iance was trying to dig their way up out of the ground but they couldnt because golf ball kept blocking them from the surface

“maybe theyre trying to communicate with me?” “yeah they’re telling you to stop”

“they raise a very convincing argument. BUT IT’S NOT ENOUGH!” “OH what a pain!!”

she accurately guessed the fact that there was a group of people underground running from some lava who “clearly value avoiding [golf ball] more than their own safety”

“ohhhh so THIS is golf balls idea of fun!” “(sigh)... yep”

they looked through a camera and couldn’t see donut (the zoom wasn’t adjusted) and marker went “donut’s a vampire too?”

too???

“meh, I’ve still got other evidence”

one time the eliminated contestants got to vote who to eliminate and snowball was like “ice cube, cuz it’s really hot in the TLC and I can’t be the only one cooling it off”

like four other people were like “oh man he’s right” and did the same thing

“wouldn’t it be cool if the last word of the last episode was the same as the first word of the first episode?” “yeah :)”

“take. a deep breath. you know. A DEEP FRIED BREATH”

at the end of the episode he shows up with some boiling oil and is like “LIKE THIS! ONE, (sizzling and screaming noises)” “COINY NO”

leafy was about to throw a knife at them but watched this happen offscreen with horror and then left them alone

david’s human, and that’s just weird

“im still mad you killed bubble” “youre one to talk, you were about to impale TWO WHOLE teams” “yeah, but bubble’s life? is special”

pen’s like “okay we three need to stick together while we’re picking teams!” but then eraser hears some other team has free food, so he runs off and pen very flatly goes “okay, we lost eraser.”

“well let’s not pick pen, he’s still two hundred bigintillion dollars in debt” which is mostly hilarious without the first three seasons of context, but even with context it’s hilarious. he looks so shamefaced when they say it too. i love pen

once someone finally picks him he IMMEDIATELY perks up and takes charge

the hphprcc went into self destruct mode and everyone started frantically trying to figure out what to do, and book’s like “okay it’ll either just disappear without a trace, or blow up and kill us all, 50/50 chance” and then of course, it exploded, and ruby started screaming, and then book was like “ruby, stop hallucinating! see? it just disappeared, without a trace!”

“YOuuOURE HalLUCINAATING!!” “DON’T do that!! it is K-R-E-P!”

pin tried to knock everyone off the eiffel tower by shaking it and book was like “who does she think she’s kidding? it’s the eiffel tower we won’t fall off”

“name ONE! name ONE friend you haven’t gotten extremely angry at!” “thats not fair,! there isnt even any of them!”

8ball was saying the opposite of everything golf ball was saying, up to and including calling the members of their team, a better name that that, “worse namers”

“is this because i killed you last episode?” “what?? no, i dont care about that!”

“life is CHEAP! get me a BANANA!!!”

flower bit off half of announcer’s head and he couldn’t make the K sound anymore

“have this -ashew” “bless you”

“no i said -ashew. -ashew. -ashew. -ashew.” “wow you must be allergic to something”

“maybe announcer’s allergic to this cashew? here bubble, you can have it!”

pencil won the staring contest because david’s allergic to sunrises

freesmart was making video diaries during the three year hiatus, but apparently did absolutely no editing or even rewatching of the videos, because they found out three years too late that ruby left the lens cap on every time she used the camera

when four played the cake at stake song in the classroom he played it on a low-quality portable tv instead of cutting to a fullscreen video

“iknowafasterway!” “NORUBYYOULLDIE!”

pin said she didnt want to halve the votes she got because she hadnt done anything that would make people want to vote for her, and it immediately cut to a series of old scenes of her throwing people under the metaphorical bus

literally nothing is funnier than “i mean, i havent done anything to make people vote for me” (cut to flashback) “there’s too much weight on this sinking ship!!! we need to throw someone OVERBOARD!!!!”

one team got stuck doing their nine-piece puzzle for a MONTH because all the pieces were the same dark brown color

the pieces were upside down

a month

“the finish line! it’s only twenty or so yards away!”

two people talking and using the word “needy” twice and pausing to throw their hands up protectively and go “HNnnnynGH”

“why do i have filling, but also a hole?” - donuts diary

in 5b theyre talking to some npcs and theyre like “well dont hurt us, because we just got finished being punished in lego brick’s dungeon” and the npcs were like “oh yeah he does that. he’s a great guy, but he does that.”

also in 5b when book met lego brick the FIRST thing she asked is if he’s “safe to look at” which,???

they did a trivia contest and multiple questions were in complete gibberish

presumably this is an actual language in canon since like three other people answered correctly, also in gibberish, but still

“you’ve got this, bubble, you’re great at mental contests” “question one: ooba grooba, grooba shmooba?” “HUH?”

“but tennis ball -- oh... tennis ball....--”

team naming, especially in season four

“we’re not ALL in the alliance!” “well, if you take ‘the all’ out of the alliance, you get...”

“and what is your name?” (everyone says their own actual names at once)

ice cube is not on team ice cube

Death Prevention And Creating Trust

“let’s be called The Losers!” “awww! you didn’t have to”

wheel ooze a hole bunch. WOAH bunch!

“but then it sounds like youre saying free-DUMB!” “and we are so like totally not dumb!”

when the losers decided to use iance’s idea to win the swing contest and it was styled like an overenthusiastic science video

“WHOA!!! iance just had a RADICAL idea!!!”

“TREASON! TREASON! TREASON!” “im in what?”

“seriously why are so many people drowning? it’s not even quicksand, or anything” - announcer, responding to five people drowning in a basket of bread

they were whispering with “susuusus” noises and cloudy whispered “zuzuzuzzuz”

the spaceship with the sign that says “this spaceship runs on big squishy contestants” or whatever and after the credits it slowly flips over to say “this spaceship runs on VOTERS”

“stop shooting at me!” “no way! i got these cannonballs on sale and IM GONNA GET MY MONEYS WORTH!!!”

eggy and cake’s argument over who has a deeper spiritual connection with loser

“my connection is so strong that when i crack, i bleed loser’s COLOR”

playing catch with a star they plucked out of the big dipper, and leafy’s horror over it

adding “ey” to people’s names (personal favorites are announcery, fourty-four, flowey, treey, and belly)

blueberries are EXPLOSIVE, including the ones inside pie, so sometimes she just explodes

“but over a year ago, four said you dont need frills to make a feast for the eyes, so that means hes okay with trash!”

the anti-advertisements advertisement!

four ate a whole team and they just sort of stood around inside him sticking their arms out his mouth and laughing hysterically

“again! again again again !!!!”

“we could be leaving!” “yeah, but when’s the last time you saw remote this happy? this is good for her!”

book, three episodes into season 3: hey, what is it we’re even battling for?

(iconic voice): dwream island,??

when they had a beauty contest and firey speaker box and flower speaker box just immediately chose firey and flower to be the winners without a second’s hesitation

“book! come help us catch a criminal!” “no thanks, im good!”

donut tried to punish people for getting the wrong answers when he was hosting, but it turns out a recording of four screeching doesn’t work... quite as well as the real deal

four zapping gelatin

ok ok ok this is insanely long but please add more if u have any favorites i missed

#honorable mention is 'pen island all caps no spaces'#its so stupid and i lose it every single time #and the reanimated 1a and 1b map when leafy icy and coiny were on their boat and inexplicably dressed as pirates #its the CUTEST Thing and i think about it a lot #bfdi #long post #o

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broccolianddandelion · 5 years ago

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Two Bakugou-centric fics

If you like Bakugou (or find him a fascinating character) here are two fics well worth reading.

Title: Kaleidoscope

Author: @yve-e Word count: WIP Summary: How does an angry teenager change from taunting a classmate to kill himself to helping his rival become a better hero? A canon compliant retelling from Bakugou Katsuki ‘s PoV.

When you look into a kaleidoscope, you see a pattern. When the kaleidoscope turns, the objects inside it create a new pattern. Even though the pieces themselves don’t change, what you see is completely different.

As a teenager, Bakugou Katsuki has a very clear picture of the world and his place at the center of it. However, the world refuses to stand still. Too many pieces don’t fit where he thinks they should go, no matter how hard he shoves them.

Maybe his life needs to turn completely upside down for him to see things in a new way.

Relationships: None Thoughts: I don’t think I’ve ever read a fic so slowly. There is SO much to digest. This fic contains one of the most complex takes on Bakugou I’ve ever read. The author digs into Bakugou’s psyche at a level that I doubt even Horikoshi himself does. The question of motivation threads throughout the fic: Why does Bakugou behave the way he does? I know lots of fics tackle this question, but Yve_E digs especially deep in answering it. The author notes that she has a 15-year-old son, and I can’t help but think that relationship informs her strong grasp of the male adolescent mindset. (Not to imply that her son is like Bakugou AT ALL!)

In addition to motivation, change is a consistent theme through the fic. How does Bakugou deal with all the changes in his life since he left middle school? The biggest change, of course, is his perception of Midoriya, whom he can no longer regard as a quirkless loser. What is Bakugou without his foil? His attempts to make his way through UA on shifting sand are painful to behold, and you just want this poor kid to get his shit together. Time will only tell. Also features delightful Kirishima and perhaps the cleanest prose I have ever come across. Seriously, I don’t think I saw a single typo. Amazing.

Title: Forged By Nitroglycerin And Spite

Author: @intothedarknessigo Word count: WIP Summary: Katsuki was quite possibly the most stubborn child to ever walk the planet earth. While his stubborn nature could cause issues, it had also saved his life several times. His determination was boundless when well directed, driving him to reach greater and greater heights. Sometimes accidentally.

Problem was, this wasn’t a height he’d wanted to reach. Now he was up here, he didn’t know how to get down. Or if he even should get down.

In which Katsuki’s kidnapping goes ever so slightly differently. His classmates don’t show up to help him escape. All-Might is caught up in fighting Nomu and takes longer to reach Katsuki after All for One whisks him away. Little things add up, and Katsuki's path as a hero is forever altered, for better or for worse.

Relationships: Bakugou/Midoriya/Todoroki; Bakugou/Midoriya; Bakugou/Todoroki Thoughts: This was recced to me by @oddray, and even though I usually give that trio a hard pass, the author’s previous longfic, Lessons Learned, is so damn good I thought I would give this new one a try. I am so glad I did.

The author takes canon divergence in an unexpected direction that provides a platform for a fascinating take on Bakugou’s character. His lifecourse changes dramatically, and we see how it affects him as well as ripples across the people around him. There’s a large cast of supporting characters, heroes,villains, and individuals of dubious morality alike. Note that this is NOT a shippy fic. The bkdk and tdbk is very much in the background, and the focus is on how Bakugou makes his way in a world that seems determined to treat him like shit. I’m on tenterhooks waiting to see what comes next.

#bnha fic rec #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki

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andrewmoocow · 6 years ago

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Fooly Falls 2 Ride on Shooting Star chapter 5: Ex-Partners in Crime (originally posted on May 30, 2019)

AN: And now the end is near. And so we face, the final curtain. My fans, I'll say it clear. I'll finish this tale, of course I am certain. I've wrote this sequel, I improved the source with my own flair. But after all of this, the climax is getting there. WKUHH ERBV, ZLWK GLVFRUG XQZDQWHG WZR ROG IULHQGV, ZLWK SDVWV IRUHYHU KDXQWHG RQH PDQ, DQ DQVZHU PDGH KLP GDXQWHG GHVWLQB OHIW WR EH DQVZHUHG, DQG WKHB'UH JRQQD EH HAKDXVWHG

In the style of an old black and white film, an assembly of giant irons stood perfectly single file before the setting sun. Gwen quietly watched before turning away and picked a bottle up off the ground. She then discovered a dejected worker sitting in front of a campfire with his hardhat the only splash of color. Gwen examined the sight before her when she also discovered the outline of a skeleton beneath her feet, where she placed the bottle in the center of its chest. Just then the girl dropped to her side in pain, discovering a small disk stuck in her foot that she gave to the skeleton to serve as an eye. As a nearby engine roared, steam from a structure decorated with irons covered the monochrome land like a sandstorm, sweeping her up along the way. When Gwen opened her eyes, she laid in a colorful body of water with her beanie in hand. Then the world suddenly turned greyscale as she excitedly ran along the shoreline while the Medical Mechanica factory continued to stand upright.

-- Ian whistled a familiar tune while tuning up a large computer monitor nestled within Ford's study. "Ride on shooting star. Yabba dabba doo, somethi-ing." he quietly sang while making a few final touches and dismounted from his maintenance creeper. "Okay, main screen turn on?" "Yeah, main screen turn on." Dipper answered turning to a certain someone tied up and fast asleep in a chair. "Rise and shine old friend." he announced placing a freshly cooked chicken leg under Haruko's nose, and the delicious scent wafting into it finally woke her up. "W-what happened?" she asked slowly beginning to wake up. "Last thing I remember was working on something before there was this napkin that covered me and-hey!" "There's no escaping this Raharu. You will give us the answers on your past that we've been searching for!" Ford declared dramatically stepping out of the shadows. "And perhaps some clues on what you're planning this time. Kanda?" "Will do." Tsukata replied hooking the Vespa Woman up to the machine with a helmet resembling a strainer and the monitor finally activated. "This was originally built to defend minds from the dream demon known as Bill Cipher, but now it's been rebuilt to simply read them and view the memories within." "This could be it everyone, our biggest breakthrough!" Dipper cackled joyously as it began booting up. "You okay there Dipper? You've slowly grown more unhinged." Ian asked nervously placing a hand on the older man's shoulder before he was slapped away. "I'm not going unhinged, I'm just excited to finally see through her lies once and for all!" Dipper continued lighting up a fifth cigarette. "So much so that I've literally cut my smokes in half!" "Yeah, he's officially snapped." Kanda commented taking a puff of his own cigarette and sitting down next to Haruko. "Oy, a bunch of losers the lot of you." Haruhara japed with a grin. "You've all become conspiracy theorists who'd resort to kidnapping an expecting mother just to prove a point. And since when did you take up smoking?" "Since I failed to quit." the agent muttered. "And I've been doing it to help me calm down." Dipper added taking a break from his mini-celebration. "Augh, my back." Haruko groaned struggling to reach for her back. "Must be the ropes getting a bit too tight, or you're just getting old." Kanda commented. "Naw, can't really age." the woman responded. "I've been 19 for what feels like ages now." "How many years exactly?" Ford asked writing in a new journal. "Hell if I know, probably ever since I met you-know-who." Haruko answered. "The summer I turned seventeen, was when I took up smoking for the first time." Kanda explained. "Sort of the same with me, only I took up smoking to deal with becoming a father." Dipper replied just as Project Mentem started acting up. "Oh my God, it's finally time!" "Can't believe it took one conversation for it to get started." Ian remarked pounding at the machine. "Well, let's get cracking." After a few moments of static, a full image revealed itself as a slightly younger looking Haruko dressed in drab work-clothes with a familiar iron in the background. "Wait a minute, is that-" Dipper exclaimed while his eyes widened. "Yep. Haruha Raharu, ex-factory worker." Raharu groaned in resignation over her past. "And it was back when Medical Mechanica had control over my planet too." As the younger Vespa Woman continued trudging about her day, Ford lost interest. "Let's just skip to the interesting stuff." the scientist declared fast-fowarding through the memory until it stopped at Haruha rocking out on some equipment as a makeshift drumkit. "Now that's the little devil we know!" "Hey, keep it down in there Haruha!" a strict, snarly voice cried out to her barging into the room. He was a tall, robust figure with a thick mustache, very long nose and a comically large cigar in his mouth. "Ah, good ol' Heinzenberg. A real J. Jonah he was, really miss when he would scream like crazy at everyone." Haruko reminisced on her former boss. "Either stop those abominable sounds or I'll do it for you!" Heinzenberg screamed pulling out a laser blaster and firing, but his rebellious employee swiftly escaped. "Try and catch me brushface!" "Wow, seems like everyone hated your guts." Dipper remarked as the fight between Haruha & Heinzenberg tore the workplace apart, to the ire of everybody else. When the dust settled, the area was in shambles and Heinzenberg was completely furious. "HAAAAAAA-RUUUUUUU-HAAAAAARAAAAA! YOOOOOOOOOUUUUUU'REEEEEEE FIIIIIIIIIREEEEEEDDDDD!" "Was he really that loud?" Ford asked as the Haruha on the screen was dragged away by security robots. "Yep, to the point where one had to add extra letters to whatever he was screaming." Haruko cackled before her smirk turned into a frown as Kanda fast-fowarded to the biker's home life, where she was being harshly scolded by a man presumed to be her father. "Do you realize what you've done Haruha?!" "Abusive parent, correct?" Ian interviewed their captive. "Oh you better believe it. The old man was a completely irredeemable piece of shit who loved drinking more than his own family." Raharu declared morosely, turning away from that ugly part of her past. "And as for my mom, pretty sure she got killed by him in a drunken rage. But who knows, I barely knew her." "Your slacking off and playing that infernal music nearly got us all in trouble!" Mr. Raharu drunkenly shouted after smacking his daughter across the face. "Either behave like every other girl on this godforsaken planet or never show your face around me again!" Just then, the cruddy former apartment home of Haruha started rumbling and a loud voice bellowed "SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT! I WANT TO SEE WHAT YOU GOT!" The ceiling began falling to pieces little by little, all capped off with a steel girder losing its support and falling right over Haruko's father. "WHAT THE FU-" was all he could scream before the girder reduced him to a puddle of red. "The Cromulons!" Ford exclaimed fast-fowarding to Haruko on stage before the giant planet-sized heads gazing down on her. "PLANET WASPRUS, SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!" the Cromulon boomed. "So what, do they go around screaming at planets?" Kanda asked. "And what do they want to be shown?" "The Cromulons are a race of giant floating heads who force the inhabitants of planets to perform in their own musical contest show." Haruko answered. "My planet frowned upon any form of creativity, but I just loved sticking it to the man." "Aw shitballs you guys, we gotta run!" the belches of a middle aged man sounded as he and his two companions, a stonefaced bird person and a catlike creature, ran for the hills to a hijacked cargo ship. "Hey, the old gang!" Haruko chirped excitedly. "Wait, the what?" Ian asked staring at the screen. "Those my boy, were the Flesh Curtains." Ford stated putting a hand on the eldest Ramirez's shoulder. "A band consisting of Rick Sanchez, an old frenemy of mine; and his two weird comrades Birdperson and Squanchy." "And it's not just them. Look." Birdperson announced pointing upward to a giant red phoenix that warped itself over Wasprus. "IT SEEMS WE HAVE A SPECIAL GUEST DISQUALIFIER!" the Cromulon boomed. "LEGENDARY PIRATE KING ATOMSK, SHOW US WHAT YOU GOT!" While Rick and his posse urged the younger Haruko to not give in, she was utterly mesmerized by Atomsk's might as she slowly stepped towards him. "Don't do it babe, that's Atomsk! His power will seriously screw with your head!" Rick warned, but Haruha didn't listen and reached out to the giant bird while her hair turned into its trademark pink. A large chain wrapped around the Pirate King's neck attached to the girl's wrist and she pulled it with all her might, eventually breaking it in two. Just as Atomsk screeched, Raharu was dragged away by Birdperson and raced to the cargo ship, escaping the doomed Wasprus in the nick of time when it completely exploded. "Welp, there goes that gig." Rick groaned in defeat taking a chug out of a flask. "How's our extra cargo doing?" "Still out squanch from Atomsk." the cat-person stated checking for a pulse just as their passenger came to. "Oh geez, what happened?" Haruha moaned rubbing her head when she took notice of the old man, the bird and the cat surrounding her. "Where am I, and who are all of you?!" "Well I can assure you miss, I am not a man in a suit that will teach you the alphabet." Birdperson answered. "You may call me Birdperson. These two are my bandmates Squanchy and Rick." "Okay, we played the name game. But where's my planet?!" Raharu shouted grabbing the two animal-like creatures by their collarbones. "Well funny story babe, might wanna squanch around and see what happened." Squanchy suggested trying to break free and the future Vespa Woman took his suggestion, gazing out the back window to find what was left of her home planet. "My home's all gone." Haruha muttered shedding a few tears, but those tears were soon replaced with a celebratory manic grin. "I'M FREE!" "Whoa now, aren't you the least bit torn up about everyone you ever loved there now pretty much dead?" Squanchy stated. "I don't care, cause no one felt that about me either!" the Flesh Curtains' passenger whooped. "No more shitty dad, no more boring job, and no more stifling of creativity!" "Hell yeah, now you're speaking my language!" Rick replied merrily. "Hey, didn't get your name lass. What do they call you?" he asked putting a microphone to the girl's mouth. "I'm Haruha Raharu." she introduced herself. "Hm, doesn't roll off the tongue as much." the drunken traveler commented. "You ever tried picking up a name like the ones in the comics like Peter Parker, Reed Richards, Billy Batson or Fred Flintstone?" "I don't believe that last one came from a comic." Birdperson tried to correct his bandmate until he was shushed. "I got a great one! How about Haruko Haruhara?" Sanchez announced pretending to knight the girl with what would become her famous Rickenbacker bass. "I like it, really does sound like those old comics!" the newly renamed Vespa Woman exclaimed. "So where to?" "Wherever the hell we want to!" Squanchy answered pointing onward before the fond memory paused itself. "Ah, the old gang. We were kinda like the Fab Four back then. Rick was Paul, Birdperson was Lennon, Squanchy was Ringo and yours truly was George." Haruko thought back to happier times with a smile. "The four of us were unstoppable! Traveling the multiverse, playing gigs, sticking it to the man, making crossovers and just having fun regardless!" Haruko managed to sneak her foot out of one of her boots to fiddle with Project Mentem and fast-forwarded through many events during her travels with Rick. In particular were running from an angry mob of robots resembling ones & zeros in a city within a computer, holding a concert for tons of excited colorful fans with gemstones on their bodies, playing with a golden snail that had a phone attached to its shell which led to an entire island being destroyed, defacing a money bin and all other sorts of mischief. "But then everything went horribly wrong when we planned what I call 'The Mechanica Mission'." she stated sadly stopping at the four nomads looking over current plans. "-ere's what we're gonna do. Haruko will infiltrate the Brotherhood and rise through their ranks so she can allow us to find Atomsk." Rick explained. "Afterwards, Squanchy will break into the Medical Mechanica factory where our contact has stated he's being held in while Birdperson & I form a distraction." "So even being a first-class space patrol officer was part of your scheme as well?!" Ford exclaimed. "To be honest, I don't know what I expected." "Don't wanna delve too much into it but in a nutshell, everything went to shit." Haruko regaled forwarding faster to a standoff between her and Rick in front of a Medical Mechanica factory with armies of insectoid aliens & Medical Machines on either side, their bandmates hovering nearby on another hijacked ship and Atomsk appearing out of a giant wormhole. "So all this time, we were just being used so that you can have sex with Atomsk?!" Rick screamed as he felt betrayed by his partner. "Pretty sure his pecker is way too big to fit in your hive! And I'm really going to regret those puns!" "But wasn't there ever a time in your life where you sought after ultimate power?!" the Vespa Woman responded sadistically. "Bitch, I've been possessed by those types before! But did I use those to turn on those I legitimately care for!" the alcoholic nihilist shouted preparing to attack with his guitar. "It's no use Rick, get back here before the portal reaches maximum instability!" Birdperson cautioned his bandmate. "I'll be back in a bit you guys, gotta settle the score first." Sanchez snarled mounting what would become Haruko's Vespa scooter and charging at her with battle cry and bass. Raharu would do the same and then, the video faded to snow leaving the four men utterly flabbergasted. "So it all makes sense now." Kanda declared shutting it off. "Or at least, as much sense as a person like Haruko can make it." "Other dimensions? Wait til the others hear about this!" Ian added excitedly. "Maybe I could pitch this to whatever big Hollywood director hasn't had their reputation ruined." "At least we finally got our answers Dipper." Ford said to his greatnephew, but he received no answer. "Dipper?" Dipper on the other hand stared emptily at the blank screen contemplating over everything they just watched. Her home planet, that crazy man, the multiverse, Medical Mechanica, Atomsk. In the time he knew Haruko, her past was a total enigma with the exception of how she was a space cop gone rogue, but even that was all a sham. He began lightly snickering while clutching his head. "Ha." he flatly laughed. "Ha ha ha. Ffnk, ahoo. Ahoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo." Dipper's sanity began tumbling down even faster before his chuckling turned into full-blown insane cackling. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" "Dipper, stop laughing and answer me!" Stanford demanded his now completely insane apprentice. "IT WAS ALL A LIE! IT WAS ALL A LIE!" Dipper screamed merrily continuing his mad chortling and smashing the screen. "YOU ARE TEARING ME APART LISA!" "Uh, has anyone seen Haruko?" Ian asked pointing out the empty stool spinning in a circle. "It seems Dipper's little episode here has given her an opportunity to flee." Ford observed on the verge of coming to a shocking conclusion. "But where could she be off t-Oh no." Just as fast as he made his realization, Ford bolted out of his study and went up the elevator to follow the lying motorist. "Where's he off to?" Kanda asked Ian. "Stan is holding a little wake for Jinyu," the eldest Ramirez son answered. "And I don't want to know what Haruko will be up to."

A small drum accompanied a confused rabbi singing for Julia Jinyu in front of the equally unaware attendees who are staring at Stanley and wondering among themselves why they're attending a funeral for someone who was basically unknown to them. "We have no idea who the deceased is, but I can promise she will rest in peace. May He take good care of this woman, and continue to watch over us all." the rabbi chanted before clearing his throat, switching his Jewish dialect for a growling Midwestern accent. "All right Pines, pay up!" he shouted holding out his hand and expecting cash. "Haven't got all day, have a wedding in Alabama to preside over." "Who's the lucky underage victim and their offender?" Stan asked fishing a wad of thousands out of his wheelchair. "Don't want to get anyone here mad, but it's a juicy one!" the rabbi replied with a smug grin. After snatching his bills from the old man's hand, he wordlessly allowed the audience to give their condolences before leaving. First came Senator Gideon Gleeful. Although he and Stanley made amends, there was still a friendly contempt between the two. "So how's that conspiracy against President Kitaki going?" the con-artist asked his old enemy. "Moving along quite nicely Pines. Already got the Fundshausers on my side." Gideon replied turning to Grenda & Marius with a wink and a grin. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm probably going to being voting for you." Stan admitted. "The less we need of that old hag trying to ban the possibility of intergalactic travel, the better!" Next came Masurao. "Hey I know you! You're that guy from Little Asia!" the great-uncle exclaimed. "I am sorry for your loss sir, but I'm on borrowed time." Masurao apologized before scurrying outside. "What's his deal?" "So the damn thing stood up? And it's also getting foggy." Masurao stated spying on the upright iron from below with Eyepatch. "It'll go away when the sun reaches its peak." Eyepatch responded. "Did we really need to make a pitstop at the Shack on our way there?" "Even if it doesn't have a fraction of the power it once had." his partner remarked gazing upon Canti's head while Aiko spied on the two men without their knowledge. "Don't worry, just forget about it." Eyepatch assured him before they departed in a pickup truck carrying the Medical Machine's remains while the funeral continued on as normal. Eventually the two made it to an orbit elevator area in Portland where a doglike man waited for them. "Hey champ, you training hard for tomorrow?!" Eyepatch greeted the worker with a fistbump. "Oh you know, just trying to save my money." the other man replied. "Feel free to just head on in, warehouse should be up ahead." "Good on the money sport. It's important to make plans for the future y'know." Eyepatch complimented, which warranted a grumble from Masurao. When the worker tried to pick up Canti's head, it suddenly turned on for a split second. "Hey, watch how you're handling that thing Mutt!" Masurao ordered. "It's like, vintage!" "Yeah, this is pretty heavy. My bad." Mutt quickly apologized. "That thing's a piece of junk anyways champ. Hakuna matata as they always say!" Eyepatch casually stated which earned him an earful from his younger companion. "Are you insane?! Do you have any idea how much that-" "I totes got it sir." Mutt assured them. "You know, I had a hard time throwing away my first cellphone! Sentimental value is sometimes worth the most." "You don't understand at all!" Masurao continued shouting before the other two men laughed. -- Back at Jinyu's funeral in Gravity Falls, Arnold grimly faced the wall while Juan & Jorge tried to apologize. "Please, you gotta forgive us Arnie!" the twins cried bowing to the floor in shame. "We'll do anything to make it up to you! Would you like to come with us to that new amusement park opening up?" "I'd rather go with someone who won't deliberately leave me to die just because of their manliness obsession." Arnold glowered not ever taking his eyes off the wall. "But if we bring girls with us, we'll get a hefty discount! Like 99% I heard! Aiko asked me to come with her!" Juan tried appealing to their sullen friend, but he still received no answer even as Gwen entered the room. "Fine, be a jerkass for pretty much barely any rhyme or reason for all we care!" Suddenly, Haruko abruptly barged into the living room riding on her scooter and wearing Jinyu's shades, interrupting the funeral and enraging Stan. She slammed her hands on the coffin to speak to the audience. "So listen up everybody, cause I have an important announcement to make! Kay?" Haruko declared. "I am, um, gonna get married!" she announced switching into a wedding dress to everyone's bewildered cheering. "And everyone is invited! Yes I mean everyone!" "I congratulate you on your marriage madame, but this is a place of mourning. Please save your speech til after the wake." one of Gideon's bodyguards with long hair stated. "Do we have visual on crazy pregnant biker that just interrupted a funeral?" "Noted. Prepare for detainment." his black jerry-curled partner replied swapping the burger he was eating for a cattle prod. "Oh wait wait wait, you can't inflict violence on an expecting mother & housewife like that!" Haruko exclaimed turning into a homemaker with a creepy baby doll on her back. "Now let me tell you all the tale of how my husband and I, fell. In. Love." "So my hubby and I met at an amusement park in Portland, and I was there during sunset." the so-called mother narrated through children's crayon drawings. "Clumsy ol' me was about to get hit by a roller coaster when HE swept in to save me like I was a damsel in distress! It was MY HUBBY!" The final drawing depicted Haruko kissing a humanoid red bird which struck a chord in Gwen, as if she had seen him before. "So remember everyone, amusement parks are a paradise!" the Vespa Woman preached. "Forget this sobstory, let's go have so-" "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-RUUUUUUUUU-KOOOOOOOOOOO!" Stan screamed as loud as his nearly eight decade old lungs could cut his former friend off. "Oh hey, didn't see you there Stanley! Thought this was your funeral." Haruko remarked finally realizing who the funeral was for. "Oh, for Jinyu? You guys barely even chatted!" "Don't play coy with me Haruko! You know I'm being serious since I'm not calling you Raharu!" Stan screamed while Soos & Mabel tried to hold him back. "This will be the chapter where I'll get payback for what you've done to my family all those years ago!" "Okay I just started caring, what?" a plaid-shirted man with some grey in his brown hair & goatee asked. "The rest of you get on outta here! This is between me and her!" Stan commanded and the funeral attendees ran outside just as the coffin was opened by Sammy Determined, a tanned, geeky young man with large glasses and a beauty mark on his chin. "I've been stuck in this coffin pretending to be a dead body for like half an hour. Can I go home now?" "You're excused Sam." Stan politely accepted and Sammy raced out the door within half the blink of an eye. "Anyway, I challenge you to a little standoff sweetheart! You and me, Gravity Falls pool, be there or be half of a square!" The grunkle was just about to leave when he made a mechanical arm appear to grab Arnold. "And you're coming with me Arnold, since you're just as much of a victim here." "Help me." Arnold whimpered as he was taken outside just as Ford and Tsukata burst into the living room. "Oh lord, I'm too late!" he shouted racing around the area for any sign of his brother. "I knew this would happen, I just knew." he groaned pinching the bridge of his nose when Gwen spoke up. "What would happen Greatkle Ford?" "I just knew Raharu would purposefully cut off this funeral to get Stanley's goat." Stanford answered. "Though I'm pretty sure she's lying about being pregnant." "Hey, have you seen Dipper anywhere? Haven't seen him since you kidnapped Haruko." Mabel asked for her brother while the Vespa Woman flipped him off behind her. "We just did some digging through her mind and what we found just...broke him." Kanda answered mournfully. "Who do you think is still available right now?" "Mom and Tyrone are. They're having a mother-son day in watching bad movies." Gwen answered. "Well what are you waiting for dudette? Call 'em!" Soos urged the girl. "Hey Gwennie, wouldn't you rather go to the amusement park instead? You're the one that I wanted to go." Haruko tried to make her change her mind. "I'm not going miss." Gwen quietly said picking up her phone. "GWEN-NIE!" -- "Ha ha ha ha, now I look like an even bigger idiot!" Tyrone & Wendy monotonously cackled in unison in response to the horrible costume worn by the leading man of "Invasion of The Bear-Eating Man Family" while Tyrone knitted a new sweater for Stan. "Wow, Joel Nelson clearly had no idea what made good costuming!" he laughed. "Still slightly better than the outfit he made Michelle Hodgson wear." Wendy replied. "Or lack thereof." Just then, the phone rang. "I got it!" Tyrone shouted racing to the phone, but his mother was also focused on answering which resulted in a play-fight that her son quickly won. "Pines cabin, Tyrone speaking!" Tyrone said. "Ty, thank goodness I can reach you." Gwen sighed in relief. "Listen, has Dad come home recently?" "He's holed himself up in our room a couple minutes ago after getting a can of Willy-Nilly's Coffee beans and a knife." Wendy answered. "I'm getting really worried for him. Tyrone honey, can you go up to check on your father?" "Will do Mommy!" Tyrone accepted with a salute and merrily made his way upstairs, but his cheerfulness quickly turned into dread the further he got. When he opened the door to his parents' room, there Dipper was emptily gazing at an old Petra the Pterodactyl video while munching on raw coffee beans and squeezing a Petra plush and his son's beloved stuffed pig Waddles II in his arms. "I'm asking you for a survey Nilly, do you like Willy-Nilly's Coffee?" Dipper asked through Petra to Waddles II. "No, no I don't." Waddles II replied before Petra suddenly held a knife in its tiny three-fingered hand. "Well survey says everyone does. Because anyone who doesn't gets shanked." Petra revealed about to stab the pig before Tyrone performed a diving save on his pig. "NOOOO!" "T-T-Tyrone? What are you doing?!" Dipper shouted even more neurotically than usual. "No, I wanna know what are you doing! You tried to stab Waddles daddy!" Tyrone cried hugging his father worriedly. "I'm so sorry sport, I've just been going through some things lately." the older male responded hugging him back. "Just some...revelations making me go cuckoo for cocoa." "Like what?" his son asked. "Well for example, Raharu actually came from another dimension where she met this scientist who behaved an awful lot like Stan." Mason explained. "They went on adventures across the multiverse together, playing music and causing borderline madness. Eventually they formed a plan to steal the Pirate King Atomsk from Medical Mechanica but that went south and then everything after that was just white noise." "Wow, that sounds even cooler than what you did with her Dad!" Tyrone exclaimed in awe. "Cool, kinda. Healthy, no way in Hell." Dipper concluded putting a hand on his youngest's shoulder. "We gotta find and stop her at once. Where's your sister and cousin?" "Arnold got taken by Greatkle Stan to participate in his little feud with Haruko and I'm not sure what's up with Gwen, but I really hope everything will turn out okay!" Arnold declared with optimism, blissfully unaware of the oncoming chaos while a faint knock on the door was heard. -- "I won't let you involve my family in your schemes anymore!" Stan shouted to Haruko from the other side of the empty swimming pool. "And I don't want to be involved here!" Arnold cried begging to be let go. "Please Stan, Pacifica will kick your ass hard when she hears about this!" "Oh? You think I'm the bad guy for getting your family all tangled up in my schemes, pyon?" Haruko playfully mocked standing on the other side with her red jacket over a blue one-piece. "For a wannabe white knight, you sure are quite the hypocrite." "Arnie, bass." Stanley commanded his great-great nephew as he pushed a button on the armrest of his wheelchair that transformed it into a miniature exoskeleton to help him walk properly. "Wait, since when could you do that?!" Arnold exclaimed in shock while unveiling a certain Jazzmaster for his great-great uncle to use. "There are tons of things about my wheels that you never knew about, and some you'll never know about." Stan stated taking the guitar and slinging it over his shoulder with both hands. "Well what're you waiting for? Come at me!" "Okay. Let's do this." Haruko chummily declared just as her former friend angrily charged, but she quickly blocked the bass with just her feet. "I know you're super old, but you really got no talent nya." she groaned in disappointment. The wasp continued blocking all of Stan's attempts to land a hit and when it seemed like he was finally about to score one, instead came being kicked into the pool shed. "You learned how to fight with your back, right? Cause it seems like time has made you forget!" Stan was just about ready to surrender until he spotted Arnold nervously sitting on a deck chair and got an idea. "Tag me out kid! Tag me out!" he called for the boy while reaching out his hand. "Wait, you're serious? You want me to fight her?" Arnold said curiously. "Well, this could be a chance for me to be manly without a certain duo threatening my life." The pair high-fived and Arnold picked up the Jazzmaster to use. "I'm the boss, I'm the boss, I'm the boss, I'm the boss!" he quietly chanted to himself while charging forward and preparing a mighty swing, but Haruko then swiftly dodged it. "Whatever you wanna do blondie, you gotta do it with strength!" she announced sticking a perfect landing. Arnold however remained resolute and began muttering "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!" "This is where Stan wanted to fight Raharu!" Ford explained to Gwen & Tyrone while the three arrived at the pool but instead of seeing the other grunkle fight her, it was instead Arnold taking off his sweatervest and trying to swing again. "Use your hips, arms relaxed, chin tucked in." Haruha instructed her opponent after yet another nimble avoidance, but Arnold simply didn't listen and escaped from her grasp. "You're no good m'boy, no good at all!" "JUST STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!" Arnold howled rigorously trying one last time to smack her, but was knocked down with a small tap and a declaration of "Oint." "Stan, do you have any idea what in God's name you're doing to Arnold?!" Ford hissed from the other side of the chain fence to his brother. "Don't go accusing me, the kid's just as much a victim as the rest of us!" Stan replied with a holler. "Okay, maybe I am partially to blame." "Go get'er cuz, show her what we've taught you!" Tyrone cheered for his cousin before he suddenly realized that he cheered a bit too late. "Oh right, you're down for the count. Sorry!" "If strength was measured by the hits one took, then you wouldn't be considered such a loser." Haruko said to Arnold while her bracelet began tingling once again. "To be honest, I thought you'd be better given your heritage. That's why you were taught all those things, to increase your manliness I heard. But I guess all those were for nothing because you know just about as much." As Gwen watched, something in her began trembling and her hat glowed faintly. "That's where you're wrong Raharu. You don't know anything either." Arnold argued bravely to her confusion. "The truth is, I'm completely unsatisfied!" This angered Haruko before she decided to remove her jacket right on top of the boy, which finally made Gwen go berserk. The force given off by her beanie blasted the door away and rapidly sucked Arnold inside her head. "Wait, what's going on!?" "He was right. Pacifica's gonna put all of us in the morgue." Stan regarded fearfully realizing his huge mistake when the absorption concluded leaving everyone shocked. All that was left was a bizarre black cutout with Arnold's Northwest ring on the finger. "Uh, my bad! Things will probably get worse than usual this time around." Haruko sheepishly apologized before mounting on her Vespa and preparing to take off. "I'll be waiting. She zoomed off leaving the four Pines and what was left of Arnold at the pool. "Hey, get back here you bitchy bassist! We still haven't settled our score yet!" Stan cursed angrily shaking his fists at the clouds. Gwen in comparison was utterly heartbroken by what she did to her cousin. "Oh I am so sorry about what happened to Arnold little lady." Ford said trying to comfort her. "You know, this reminds me of my Backupsmore days. Our school just won a cross-country event and we decided to celebrate by tearing everything apart. You should've seen the pool! They flipped the bitch!" "Where were you during that time?" Tyrone asked. "My roommate and I didn't want to take any part in the riot for safety reasons, so we went out for Italian." his genius great-grunkle answered. "I only wanted to lighten the mood after what happened just now, but I'm not sure how it'll work." -- Across town, business was booming at the amusement park with dozens of excited visitors of all ages stampeding through the entrance, most of them being couples. The Ramirez children were among these couples most notably Leia & Ezra, leaving Ian to watch over Juan, Jorge and Abby. "Does anyone have an idea on where Imelda is?" Ian asked his younger siblings while taking a bite out of some confectionery treats from the food stands. "She said that she got a part-time job here but hasn't come back." "While I'm just as concerned for Mel, all I want to know is WHERE IS AIKO?!" Juan cried out furiously typing on his phone. Elsewhere in the park, Tonkichi quietly observed two men fighting for the love of a girl and accidentally getting caught in each other before a red force took over their heads. "Excuse me sir, how much longer will this test ride go on?" Imelda asked Tonkichi. "Oh not too much longer." the theme park owner assured the seven-year-old. "All you gotta do is just stay right there my girl." As for Masurao, he was currently examining the park's webpage with Eyepatch. "Wait, hold on. Not that one." his senior citizen superior stated. "What? I thought it was Mr. Dodo." Masurao replied. "Don't you forget that we're dealing with super top secret stuff here, so that means we must activate the hidden communication mode." Eyepatch advised the younger male. "Go to the shopping section and push the little kiwi strap." "Which one?" Masurao exclaimed trying to find that strap. "The fluffy one right down there." On Eyepatch's commands, Masurao clicked on the image of a kiwi that led the two to a dining menu page. "Are you sure? The link went to a menu." he muttered in confusion. "Now just push She's So Chicky Wings." When he clicked on the menu item, it then guided to an article on one of the rides. "The Icarus Fall is the world's third-fastest falling ride?" "Wait wait wait, go back up!" Eyepatch shouted. "That's gotta be it, the falling one!" he added excitedly. "Uh, they're all falling." Masurao responded not knowing what his boss just said. "The one with the little emu!" "But which one?" "The one with the fluffy wings!" "You have to be more specific!" "THERE!" With a smack of his cane, Eyepatch made Masurao tap the emu which made Tonkichi appear on a video screen in his dodo costume. "Hello there, it's Mr. Dodo!" he merrily greeted them. "It's me." Masurao stoically greeted. "Don't be so sorry. Sometimes a kid will come calling me." the receiver grimly replied when another child greeted him. "Hi Mr. Dodo!" "Hey kid!" Tonkichi waved his wing at the passing child before returning to his teammates. "And any updates from Kanda?" "Nothing yet, though he has promised." Masurao answered. "But we did see the recently installed viking ship. We'll also have to deal with Immigration matters, but I don't want to rush you too much." "And what of the flower pot? Is it complete yet?" Tonkichi continued asking. "Uh sure. It can be activated at any time." Masurao muttered nervously. "The plant is online, alright!" Eyepatch declared, but their partner was too busy trying to greet a pair of girls who didn't want to be near him. "Can you please focus on your real job and see the data I sent you?" the younger redhead groaned incredulously. "This is a real job too!" Tonkichi argued. "Don't you know that this park helps fun-" "Do you think we can make do without that pot?" Eyepatch asked his colleague as the latter closed the video on Tonkichi and Aiko overheard their conversation. "I doubt it." Masurao groaned in defeat. "If you can't activate the flower pot, any backup plans we come up with will be useless!" "Shut up, I know that!" Aiko's father exclaimed while his daughter went upstairs to look for money she made off her dating service in a jack-o-lantern situated in her closet. "Aiko." Masurao called for his daughter while she frantically closed the closet door. "What is it?" the girl asked and her dad just looked down for a moment. -- "So which one of us do you think Pacifica will kill first?" Stan asked while Tyrone helped put his wheelchair back together, Gwen examined the balloon that was once her cousin and Ford collected some leftover pool water that he put into a beaker. "Personally, I'm betting on you poindexter since you started all this by bringing Gwen here." "I started this?!" Ford shouted angrily. "You're the one who's fostered this animosity with Raharu for literally twenty years ever since she first left us!" Still fuming, the scientist examined the beaker he had just used along with four others containing radioactive waste, soy sauce, machine oil and a strand of pink hair. "And what are you up to?" Stan asked gazing at the beakers. "Just been experimenting on some substances to make a superhuman formula. Just got some pool water from here, soy sauce from Little Asia, radioactive sludge from Scuttlebutt Island, machine oil and some of Raharu's hair." "How is that going to do anything of substance you nerd?" Stanley hissed. "Well, other than probably give you a killer stomachache." "It's still highly experimental brother, so maybe there is a chance of a killer stomachache." Stanford agreed before the two great-grunkles gazed at Gwen holding the balloon in her arms. "S-so thirsty." a familiar voice croaked through Arnold's ring. "W-water." "Great Caesar's ghost, he's alive!" Tyrone exclaimed while his big sister took the balloon to the pool showers. "Hey, put on a smile sis! Arnold's still out there!" he tried to cheer her up when the showers seemingly activated on command. "I don't want to remember what happened this morning." Gwen monologued reminiscing to earlier that day in manga form. -- "Oh good morning Gwennie!" Wendy greeted her daughter coming down the stairs. "Check it out, Jinyu left us so many clean & unbroken plates." Gwen however wasn't interested. "Something the matter my little pecan pie?" her mother asked. "I'm just back to my normal self, that's all." "No, you seem eerily different." Wendy said concernedly just as her daughter stepped outside and she realized something. "I've...changed?" Gwen stuttered going back inside to find her mom packing some small boxes. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Just...have fun at the Shack little dude. And tell Stan I send my condolences." Wendy said trying to dodge the question. "And also tell Arnold his aunt says hey!" "Seriously mom, why are you packing? Are we going to move?!" Gwen shouted suddenly getting angry. "I thought Dad wanted to stay here to catalogue all the weird crap going on here and hang with Aunt Mabel!" Wendy frowned to herself over her daughter's feelings before turning back to her. "I think it's time we try something different. Y'know, I always wanted to live in Portland." That was when Gwen's beanie beeping began to coincide with her bursting into tears. -- Returning to the present, the shower stopped and the balloon began to inflate in Gwen's arms. "Hey, is this about losing Jinyu, Greatkle Stan getting mad at Haruko, or losing Arnold?" Tyrone tried to console the older girl. "I'm here for you if you wanna shoulder to cry on." The balloon reached its maximum size and drifted to the ceiling above the kids. Taking a poolstick, Gwen grabbed it and took it outside where it was properly able to ascend. And then, as her beanie began blinking once again, she made a miniature crater beneath her feet which horrified her present family. "Find, the others, now." Ford muttered. -- "Hi, I'm Mr. Dodo!" Tonkichi greeted the happy couples in his mascot costume, but none were paying attention. "Looks like everyone's having a great time, am I right? Hey! Boys and girls!" he exclaimed while a group of employees armed with firearms assembled behind him. "You're all just little brats who still don't have all your hair down there! Sorry, but you're all pretty much useless!" The employees then aimed their weapons at the unknowing parkgoers on command. "FIRE!" Tonkichi ordered. "Sorry, wrong voice." he realized clearing his throat and switching to a deeper voice. "FIRE!" The weapons launched a series of red beams that tagged everyone and making the same red force appear in their heads. "THIS IS WHY I DON'T TRUST THEME PARKS!" Ezra screamed in pain as he and Leia became victims as well. "If I don't make it out of here alive, I want you to know Leia that I really do love you, and I'm basically a tsundere!" "Ha, called it!" Leia chuckled before she went back to screaming and gazed terrified at her brother. "Ian, get the kids away and we'll all catch up later! You four are the only single ones here!" she shouted to Ian. "Right! Juan, Jorge, Abby, come with me!" "But where do we find them? Where do we find Mommy and Daddy?!" Abby cried as Jorge took her arm. "Not sure, but they're probably just as lost as all the other couples here are!" Juan exclaimed racing off. The energy collected from the visitors soon filled up all the big rides at the park and caused them to lift themselves out of their supports. "They started already?!" Masurao shouted watching the chaos from afar. "I have to warn the Pines." Tsukata declared gazing through his binoculars. The attractions gathered around the big castle at the center, including the viking ship that Imelda was trapped on, and formed into a giant robot. "Captain, I don't think we'll make it!" one of the employees shouted. "We've got to do it! No matter the cost, we'll show them all!" Tonkichi declared bravely as the castle bot faced the upright Medical Mechanica iron. "They may smooth out our brains, but they'll never smooth out our freedom! START THE ATTAAAAACK!" The castle robot launched everything it got at the giant iron, but nothing worked and the factory in turn blasted a giant laser that instantly burnt the opposing machine to cinders. -- Far above Earth, Arnold's inflated husk drifted out of the atmosphere and towards an Immigration Control Center satellite storing lost items. A mechanical hand snatched the balloon and tossed it down the chute to be scanned & later dumped into the old Gravity Falls junkyard which attracted the attention of a familiar-looking robot dog. "Well I'll be. Aren't you just the cutest little thing?" Older Man McGucket greeted the little mutt. "Hey I know you! You're that spindly johnny who followed the kids around!" The genius hillbilly scooped up some of the trash from the box it was dumped in, including Arnold's remains, and put it in a dog bowl for the canine machine to eat. "Eat up now little feller!" -- Back at the amusement park, Haruko was spectating the whole battle when she felt her stomach return to its normal size. "So they're still doin' it, huh?" she mumbled getting back to her entertainment when she saw a few familiar faces. "For the record, we already knew something was up long before you warned us!" Ford shouted to Kanda when he spotted Haruko. "Raharu! Can't believe I'm saying this, but we got a problem!" Along with the Stans, Tyrone, Dipper, Mabel, Wendy, Ian, Leia, Juan & Jorge, Abby, Ezra, Soos, Melody, a very angry Pacifica preparing to use a broken bottle as a shiv and Kanda was a now cybernetic Gwen glaring furiously at the Vespa Woman. "Lookin' good Gwennie!" Haruko complimented with a wolf whistle and a nosebleed. "You're really killing it!" Gwen didn't reply with her words, but instead with a gold battering ram launching from her robot arm. "Just so we can all reach a compromise, all of you are to blame for this!" Pacifica shouted tranquilly. "Whoa, hold on all y'all!" Haruko exclaimed avoiding the younger girl by jumping on the roller coaster tracks. "Stop it, I didn't do nothing wrong!" "BULL-FUDGING-SHIT RAHARU!" Stan cursed as Gwen followed his former partner preparing to use the other Mustang to help his great-great niece. "All I did was give you all a little nudge, reignited some old passions, helped you with your dreams, s'all!" "Give him back! Give Arnold back!" Gwen screamed continuously attempting to hit her. "Wah-ho! Guess the Pines still have quite a lot of fight in them!" Haruko exclaimed before she found Dipper, Mabel and Pacifica right behind her. "Give me back my son or else." Pacifica hissed arming herself with Jinyu's Jazzmaster. Before anyone of them could fight, Haruhara surfed away further up the coaster rails. "In the end, you're no different from the rest of us!" Gwen snarled leaping away from her family to give pursuit. "It's all because you're in love with that weird bird, right? You're just another girl stupidly in love!" "See, like I kept telling you Raharu! You can't force someone to love you!" Dipper agreed with his daughter. "Oh quit parroting Mason or I'll shove crackers down your throat to shut you up!" Haruko shouted to the Pines father before she noticed her bracelet starting to react to something amiss. "Huh?" "Uh, dudes!" Soos exclaimed gazing up at the reddening sky. "Is the multiverse going all kaput or am I thinking of some other cataclysmic event?" he asked cuing the others to look up as well. "No. Way." Ford & Kanda boomed in shock. Soon everybody important to the story gazed up at the sky and Haruko realized just who it was. "It's Atomsk." -- AT LAST, IT IS DONE! I started kinda late on this chapter, but it was all worth it to finally beat my deadline. What will become of the Pines family and friends? Will Haruko finally control Atomsk? Why does McGucket recognize that oddly familiar dog? Join us next time for the final chapter of Fooly Falls 2: Ride on Shooting Star and be sure to read my other works for more!

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years ago

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Fic: Shooting Star (Ao3 link) - Chapter 3: Doomworld

Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart

For Coldwave Week: Doomworld - @coldwaveevents

Summary: “So, Mr. Rory,” Sara Lance, leader of the Legends, asks, leaning across the desk. “Tell me. Why do you want to join the Legends and be a hero?”

Mick really hopes he doesn’t screw up this interview - it could be his last chance of becoming a real superhero.

(You see, he has this little complication involving this one supervillain…)

———————————————————————————————–

"So," Ray says. "Uh. What now?"

Everyone turns to look at Mick.

"I have no idea," he says crossly. "Leave me alone."

"You usually have the most insight into what Len's up to," Zari points out.

"I'm also still a hero," Mick says, more than a little testily. "So no. I have no idea what he's up to. Or what he was thinking. Or how every single hero group on the planet still managed to absolutely fail at stopping the Legion of Doom from getting their hands on the Spear of Destiny and re-writing reality into a dystopic Doomworld where they're in charge of everything. And absolutely none of that lack of knowledge is going to keep me from strangling him about it when I find him!"

"Probably why he hasn't shown his face since the change," Sara says wisely. "Waiting for you to cool down."

"It's not exactly like him, though," Amaya demurs. "Len's usually a really down-to-earth sort of villain, flair for the dramatic aside. This is really out of character."

"I know it's not like him," Mick says through gritted teeth. "That's why I'm gonna strangle him."

"Domestic violence is wrong, Mick," Sara says.

"In this instance?!"

"Hmm. Point. I will totally let you get in a few punches as long as I get one too," she offers.

Mick grumbles but agrees. Len doesn't actually take being beaten up by heroes when he deserves it personally, after all. "I really don't know what he's thinking this time," he adds gloomily. "He hates world-conquering plans, he thinks all-powerful magical trinkets are cheat codes for losers, and he's normally the first guy to tip off the good guys that something like this is going down."

"Maybe he didn't know about it?" Ray suggests.

Mick snorts. "His membership in the Henchmen and Minion League hasn't been revoked, as far as I'm aware. No way anyone got this far without him knowing."

"Then why..?"

"I don't know! He won't answer any of the usual numbers, and it's been over twelve hours of Alternate World and he hasn't so much as shown his face yet!"

Zari nudges Mick's shoulder gently with her own. "Hey," she says, immediately getting the real problem he's been having, which is not exactly the same problem everyone else has been having. "Don't worry about him, okay?"

"I'm not worried," Mick grumbles.

That's a lie.

He's worried.

Normally, anytime any big battle goes down that the Legends are even remotely involved in, Len can be guaranteed to show up within six hours, usually less, to check on his favorite team.

"He's fine," Zari insists. "He's Leonard Snart, Mick. One of the five co-rulers of Doomworld. He literally helped create this world."

"Yeah, sure. All the more reasons for one of his co-rulers to want to knock him off so they can be the only ones in charge..."

"Go back to being angry," Amaya suggests. "We haven't seen any indication that anything has happened to him, and you know the other villains wouldn't be able to keep from boasting about it if they did do something."

"Hm. Point.

"That means he's fine. And that, in turn, means that he'll have to show his face sometime."

"Does he?" Mick asks glumly. "He owns a fifth of the world now; I'm sure that'll keep him busy."

"Too busy for you, Mick?" Sara says skeptically. "Not really likely."

"More like 'never'," Ray agrees.

Mick shrugs. He admits it's unlikely, given Len's track record, but then again, so is Doomworld itself.

He doesn't like it when Len goes out of character.

Certainly not without some justification like mind-control or new-villain pheromones, and there's been no indication of anything like that.

"Personally, I'm just really happy we're immune to all the Doomworld changes," Nate says.

"Nate," Amaya says gently. "We're not immune."

"Wait. We're not?"

"Nope," Zari says. "Len just let us keep our memories of the original timeline. Possibly without telling any of his co-rulers about it."

"He did? Huh. One point in the 'he has a secret plan' column."

Ray obediently adds a point to the chart they have going on the whiteboard Gideon created for them when they first realized that the Waverider was grounded until repairs could be made. The time drive is totally dead, without any hope of recovery, so at this point they just want to have the air support. Not to mention wanting to avoid notice from the other people in Doomworld any more than they already have...

The other columns in the chart (titled "Why Would Leonard Snart Do?") are "he's gone crazy", "he was tricked into it", and "he's going to literally give the world to Mick on a platter because he couldn't think of a good enough gift to pay him back for that Diana thing".

(Mick objected strenuously to the inclusion of that last one, but got overruled.)

"Wait, if we're not immune," Nate says, "what are we?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, what do we do? Is there an evil Wikipedia saying what our jobs are in this universe?"

"Good question," Sara says. "Zari, could you -"

"Already checked," Zari says. "We're officially part of the Enforcers of the New Regime, actually."

"We are?!"

"Officially. Unofficially, we're Len's pet superhero team."

"That doesn't actually seem all that different from how it normally is," Ray says thoughtfully. "In our regular universe, I mean. Without the whole 'Enforcer' bit, but still."

"It's - actually not, sad to say, except for the part where we're all part of the ruling class of a dystopia and have absolute control over about 99% of the population, which has to fulfill our every request."

Silence for a few long minutes.

"Which we will not be exploiting," Sara says, sounding very tempted. "Because we're heroes and that would be bad."

"So much free coffee," Ray says, his eyes dreamy. "So much."

"...not what I was thinking, but you know what, sure, we can demand free coffee."

"Sara!"

"We have to exploit the system somehow or they might get suspicious of us," Sara sniffs.

"They'll be suspicious anyway," Amaya mutters.

"Hey, if we're Enforcers, why don't we get the sexy leather get-ups the rest of them have?" Nate wants to know.

"Because unlike the rest of them, we haven't been brainwashed," Sara points out. "Which I for one approve of."

"We should still get cool outfits."

"I'll have Gideon make you a leather outfit, okay? We'll probably need it to infiltrate somewhere eventually anyway."

"Good," Nate says, pleased. "I volunteer for that mission."

"Of course you do."

"Wait," Ray says, "are all of the other superhero teams incapacitated?"

"Uh, yeah, as far as I can tell," Zari says. "The only ones still at large are deliberately weakened so that they can be hunted down at the leisure of their respective villains. Why?"

"So what you're telling me is that the Legends are the only hero team left available to fight a world-destroying event? Like, this is our big chance," Ray says, rocking up and down in excitement. "This is our save-the-day, enter-the-big-hero-leagues moment!"

"Huh, yeah," Sara says, already looking vaguely haunted by the responsibility. "Hadn't thought of it that way, but I guess you're right."

"That bastard!" Mick suddenly roars.

They all look at him.

Mick, scowling, grabs the pen from Ray and puts a check in the "world to Mick on a platter" column.

Then he crosses out the word "world" and adds in "opportunity to be a real hero" instead.

Silence for a few long moments.

"You have got to be kidding me," Sara says flatly.

"It is the one thing he's always wanted to be able to give Mick," Amaya muses.

"I'm going to find him," Mick says. "And when I find him..."

"Never mind that," Ray says. "Let's go save the world!"

When reality is returned to normal, Len is given a very long talk about not using reality-altering devices to create what is essentially an Escape Room-style puzzle for the pleasure and glory of his significant other and his friends (from Mick and the other Legends), not playing with his fellow villains' dreams of world-conquering like that (from Lex), and about the fact that this whole gift-escalating thing really needs to stop (Sara called Diana in for that one).

Len responds by proposing marriage to Mick, being as that's the only way he can think of to permanently one-up him.

(He claims that once they're a single unit and Mick is permanently locked down, Mick's amazing gift-giving ability won't make him so frantic to pay him back.)

Mick says yes, but claims loudly that he's only doing it in order to write a pre-emptive restriction of crazy plans clause into their marriage vows.

(No one believes him.)

Their marriage is the biggest social event of the year for heroes and villains both. It goes remarkably well, or at least it does after they all end up teaming up to take down the locust-aliens horde from Earth-ABC.

After all, if there's one thing heroes and villains can agree on, it's that it's one thing to crash a wedding and a totally different thing to try to eat all the food.

Len swears he didn't set it up deliberately so that everyone would have a nice, entertaining fight to get out their hostility before the reception, the food for which was stashed in a totally different place.

Mick, having seen the early drafts of the program for the wedding, doesn't even pretend to believe him.

(Neither does anyone else.)

#dccoldwave #coldwaveweek2018 #mick rory #team legends #leonard snart #my fic

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surveysonfleek · 7 years ago

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212.

1. When you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? more cereal than milk so the cereal doesn’t get too soggy too quickly.

2. Do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a winter day? the first hit of cold is always nice. after awhile it gets annoying.

3. What random objects do you use to bookmark your books? nothing too interesting, random pieces of paper etc. or i’ll just fold the corner.

4. How do you take your coffee/tea? coffee: two sugars with milk. tea: one sugar and milk.

5. Are you self-conscious of your smile? i’m happy with my teeth, they could be a bit whiter though.

6. Do you keep plants? my mum loves plants, our backyard is huge and there’s gardens everywhere. there’s also some plants inside in the front lounge and then our dining room. none in my room, not enough sunlight lol.

7. Do you name your plants? no.

8. What artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? none. do tumblr surveys count?

9. Do you like singing/humming to yourself? only if i’m really into the songs.

10. Do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? side or stomach.

11. What’s your inner joke you have with your friends? there’s too many but one of the more recent ones is millus. there’s a guy at work named milos and it’s correctly pronounced ‘milosh’ but everyone says ‘mi-loss’ which is also fine. one of our workmates called him ‘millus’ the other day ever so innocently and we thought it was hilarious. so his name is millus now. lol.

12. What’s your favourite planet? earth.

13. What’s something that made you smile today? getting a new candle!

14. If you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? definitely loft style. huge space with high ceilings. our room would be open on like a second level and then everything on the first level would be studio-like, not many walls apart from the bathroom.

15. Go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! no.

16. What’s your favourite pasta dish? ugh i hate pasta. if i had to choose, probably gnocchi.

17. What colour do you really want to dye your hair? nothing in particular. wouldn’t mind some highlights. but my hair is super dead, it needs a break.

18. Tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. tomorrowland and coachella alwayssss come up in conversation.

19. Do you keep a journal? What do you write/draw in it? nope.

20. What’s your favourite eye colour? hazel is always pretty.

21. Talk about your favourite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. hmmm i change handbags every year and they all go through hell and back with me lol. but i’d have to choose my hand carry luggage. that shit is super old, one of the zips are broken, the handle struggles to pull up but i still take it with me everywhere. one time i checked it in and it went missing. i thought it was the end of it but thankfully it was found and delivered to my front door lol.

22. Are you a morning person? nope. but if i have to wake up early i can do so easily.

23. What’s your favourite thing to do on lazy days where you have no obligations? i clean my room a bit, rearrange stuff, cook something new and watch netflix.

24. Is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? probably my boyfriend.

25. What’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? i don’t think i’ve ever broken in anywhere.

26. What are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? i have a lot of favourites that i’ll wear until they eventually break lol.

27. What’s your favourite bubblegum flavour? watermelon.

28. Sunrise or sunset? sunset. but sunrises are just as beautiful.

29. What’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? when my boyfriend geeks out about certain things like game of thrones lol. loser.

30. Think of it: have you ever been truly scared? yes, of course.

31. What is your opinion of socks? Do you like wearing weird socks? Do you sleep with socks? Do you confine yourself to white sock hell? Really, just talk about socks. i only wear socks when i’m wearing boots or sneakers or if it’s winter and my feet are cold. i own more black socks than white coz of work.

32. Tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with your friends. that’s what i call a dope games night hahaha.

33. What’s your favourite pastry? i honestly love all pastry.

34. Tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. What is it called? What does it look like? Do you still keep it? this cabbage patch doll. she was black with dreads and had a flower tee. my grandparents got it for me, not once did i think she was different coz she was black, i just loved her! i have no idea where it is now sadly.

35. Do you like stationery and pretty pens and so on? Do you use them often? i love stationery, i just don’t use them enough to buy heaps.

36. Which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? no idea. none right now.

37. Do you like keeping your room messy or clean? organized chaos tbh.

38. Tell us about your pet peeves! i could make an entire list. but my main one are people who cough without covering their mouths.

39. What colour do you wear the most? black.

40. Think of a piece of jewellery you own: what’s its story? Does it have any meaning to you? my diamond bracelet my boyfriend got me for my 21st birthday. i love it but it’s super flimsy, it’s broken twice now so i don’t wear it anymore.

41. What’s the last book you remember really, really loving? harry potter. all of them.

42. Do you have a favourite coffee shop? Describe it! starbucks.

43. Who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? i feel like i’ve never done this before lol.

44. When was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? ugh idk never.

45. Do you trust your instincts a lot? yes.

46. Tell us the worst pun you can think of. i’d tell you but it’s not very punny.

47. What food do you think should be banned from the universe? none.

48. What was your biggest fear as a kid? Is it the same today? dogs. haha no, i love dogs now.

49. Do you like buying CDs and records? What was the last one you bought? i don’t buy them anymore. i don’t even remember the last cd i got.

50. What’s an odd thing you collect? nothing weird.

51. Think of a person. What song do you associate with them? marc, get buck. so random.

52. What are your favourite memes of the year so far? haha idk. i like memes but not as much as everyone else on my facebook feed.

53. Have you ever watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show? Heathers? Beetlejuice? Pulp Fiction? What do you think of them? none.

54. Who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? omg this girl at work last night. no customer service whatsoever. i hope i don’t look like that.

55. What’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? idk lol.

56. What are some things you find endearing in people? just their dorkiness.

57. Go listen to Bohemian Rhapsody. How did it make you feel? Did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? i didn’t listen to it. but i do enjoy that song.

58. Who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? Why? this is incredibly fitting. sara is the wine mom 100%, and irene is the vodka aunt, she’s even russian ffs hahaha.

59. What’s your favourite myth? unicorns lol.

60. Do you like poetry? What are some of your favourites? no. the only time i ever read poetry was in school.

61. What’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? The stupidest one you’ve ever received? idk lol. there’s been plenty both ways.

62. Do you drink juice in the morning? Which kind? nope.

63. Are you fussy about your books and music? Do you keep them meticulously organised or kinda leave them be? not fussy at all. i used to be when i was younger. my itunes library would have all correct details and i managed to cut the genres down to under 10. now i don’t care. my books are everywhere too.

64. What colour is the sky where you are right now? black.

65. Is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? yes.

66. What would your ideal flower crown look like? white, pink and purple.

67. How do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? i love staying inside during those days.

68. What’s winter like where you live? it’s nice during the day and freezing at night.

69. What are your favourite board games? cranium. its an everything boardgame lol.

70. Have you ever used a ouija board? no.

71. What’s your favourite kind of tea? honeydew milk tea with pearls.

72. Are you a person that needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? no.

73. What are some of your worst habits? i get annoyed easily. i also have no patience.

74. Describe a good friend of yours without using their name of gendered pronouns. i am theirs and they are mine.

75. Tell us about your pets! he’s my first and probably last pet dog, sky. he’s sooooo cute and super old but he still has the spirit of a puppy. physically you can see signs of old age in him but i hope he’s okay.

76. Is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? nope.

77. Pink or yellow lemonade? neither. they’re too sour.

78. Are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? neither?

79. What’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? organized a present for me overseas. lol.

80. What colour are your bedroom walls? Did you choose that colour? If so, why? turquoise and light grey.

81. Describe one of your friends’ eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. striking.

82. Are/were you good in school? yeah i was good i guess.

83. What’s some of your favourite album art? all of rihanna’s shit.

84. Are you planning on getting tattoos? Which ones? nope.

85. Do you read comics? What are your favourites? nope.

86. Do you like concept albums? Which ones? is lemonade one?

87. What are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? sound of music.

88. Are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? modern shit. cubism, futurism, surrealism, pop art.

89. Are you close to your parents? fairly close, yes.

90. Talk about one of your favourite cities. san francisco is a dream. it’s the first city my boyfriend and i ever went to overseas. i love it so much, i want to go back.

91. Where do you plan on travelling this year? this year nowhere, only coz i’ve traveled twice this year already.

92. Are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? it depends on the pasta and the cheese.

93. What’s the hairstyle you wear the most? ponytail.

94. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? my boyfriend’s dad.

95. What are your plans for this weekend? no ideaaaa.

96. Do you install your computer updates really quickly, or do you procrastinate on them a lot? procrastinate, duh.

97. Myer Briggs type, Zodiac sign, and Hogwarts house? i forgot, sagittarius, ravenclaw.

98. When’s the last time you went hiking? Did you enjoy it? probably diamond head lmao. i hated it but the view up top was amazing.

99. List some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. noo.

100. If you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go five years into the past, the other five years into the future, which one would you press? Why? errr neither. i guess i’d lean towards going back though. i don’t wna miss all the things the next five years could bring me.

#survey #surveys #quiz #bored #questions

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caseyvalhalla · 8 years ago

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despite what you’ve been told (pt 6)

so, I realize that this interpretation for the ‘commemorative photo’ scene has been disavowed via Word of God, but it’s what I was working with from the start so I’m just gonna roll with it; enjoy your Yurios, only one more installment after this!

Yuri Plisetsky’s life is suffering.

The most frustrating things he’s discovered as a teen is 1) the world he’s grown up into doesn’t meet any of his expectations, and also 2) the adults he used to admire turned out to be actual human beings capable of failure and emotion and being hopelessly pathetic and unreliable. They do things like let him down, forget his existence, make promises they have no intention of keeping, and shut themselves away in bathroom stalls to cry.

Yuri hates it, more than anything. He hates that vulnerability because his idols and role-models are supposed to be past that--beyond fallibility, beyond breaking, beyond childishness. But they’re not. Yuri feels betrayed.

He stomps out of the bathroom and goes to find Victor, not because Victor will prove himself to be any more capable or reliable than the blubbering mess in the toilet stall but because at least he’s a familiar disappointment, and at least he’s capable of pretending. Victor surrounded by flashing lights and microphones is the very impression of competence, oozing sound bites and sex appeal, another effortless success, a champion carved out of marble. The moment Victor notes Yuri’s presence suddenly he’s drawn into the circle of attention and celebrity, grumbling until Victor’s blithe scolding convinces him to answer a few questions about his advancement to Seniors, cold but mostly genial.

He’s started to see the cracks in Victor’s mask, though, even at times like this. At practice, when the only eyes on him are his coach and his rinkmates Victor is as silent and cold as the siberian tundra--on the ice he’s as refined and elegant as ever but his mouth tilts down in frustration, eyes focused on something distant over Yuri’s shoulder whenever he tries to get Victor’s attention.

Yuri wants to stay mad at him, wants to wash his hands of the World Champion of Assholes and never speak to him again, but he can’t, and that just pisses him off more.

When Victor finally waves off the press and they make their way to the exit, he predictably starts criticizing the step sequence in Yuri’s FS program and Yuri groans through his teeth, head dropping back dramatically, more to ensure that Victor gets the full force of his grimace than for any other reason. “Who cares? I won. Quit nagging me.”

Unfortunately Yakov is just close enough to hear him and launches into a lecture the moment they’re in earshot. Yuri stops listening after less than a second, stare wandering past Victor’s shoulder--and there he is, the latest disappointment in Yuri’s life, staring at the three of them with a dumb expression behind his stupid nerd glasses. Yuri scowls but he doesn’t seem to notice, and that just frustrates Yuri more.

Look at me! Pay attention to me! You’re a pathetic loser and the second I get home I’m taking all the posters of you off my wall and burning them. I’ll never watch your YouTube videos again. I hate your guts. Look at me, Katsuki, stop staring at Victor like an idiot. You failed me and I’ll never forgive you!

Japan’s Top Failure won’t look at Yuri, though; he just stares past him with that same limp, miserable posture and expression until Victor finally stirs, feeling eyes on him, and turns.

And Victor is the biggest idiot on the planet, because he immediately pulls up his movie star expression and says, graciously, “Commemorative photo? Sure.”

Victor is still smiling when Katsuki curls into a ball of abject misery and slithers away without a word, and that smile gradually melts into a blank stare while Yuri feels enough rage build up in his stomach that he thinks he might literally explode. He tries to pay attention to Yakov for a few seconds, just to distract himself, but Victor’s sense of self-preservation has never been in top form, so when he turns back he has the gall to mumble, “What was that about?” to himself, one finger curled against his lower lip.

And Yuri can’t take it anymore.

“Oh my GOD, what is your PROBLEM? That was YUURI KATSUKI YOU DUMB FUCK!”

Victor stares down at him, mask summarily out of place, vague like he thinks he knows the name but can’t quite place it, and it’s like a microcosm of everything that’s been wrong with Victor since last season. Distracted, listless, able to pretend he’s still inspired with his feet on the ice and cameras in front of him, fickle and directionless anywhere else. Before now, Victor would have been the one telling Yuri the names and careers of every single competitor at every event they go to, right down to their Junior division base scores and personal training regimens. But this Victor doesn’t seem to know anyone, doesn’t pay attention to anything, can’t keep any information in his head for more than a few hours.

Yakov has been making noises, occasionally, mutterings that sounded like it’s happening again and has long arguments with Victor behind closed doors that never seem to resolve anything. Yuri doesn’t remember it very well because he was too young, but he knows there was a break, an undefinable period of absence after which Victor reappeared in St. Petersburg, hair cut short, tired and world-weary but smiling in a way that made eight-year-old Yuri feel relieved even though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe just because it seemed to make Yakov feel relieved, in his own disgruntled way.

He assumes this is what those mutterings and arguments mean, but Yuri still doesn’t know why Victor was gone to begin with, and nothing pisses him off quite like his own ignorance.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor echoes, eyes narrow and turned to the side like he can see into his own memory if he peers hard enough, and Yuri grinds his teeth.

“Japan’s top skater. He wins his Nationals every year. He came in 6th, weren’t you watching?”

“I was talking to the press.”

Victor can’t possibly understand the depths of Yuri’s feelings about this, how eager he’d been to see Katsuki perform in person, only to watch him fall and stumble all over himself like a newborn foal. Victor couldn’t understand how unfair that was, how Katsuki had let himself down, let his fans down, let Yuri down even though they’d never spoken before Yuri broke into his toilet stall and screamed his own disappointment in Katsuki’s face. He was supposed to be better than this. Victor was supposed to be better than this. The adults in his life weren’t supposed to let him down.

And now Victor is lost in thought, somewhere out of reach for the rest of the day, for all of the following day through the exhibition where he skates as flawlessly and beautifully as ever, right up until the banquet.

Yuri refuses to discuss the banquet.

He’ll discuss how idiotic Victor is during the banquet, how every time his conversation lapses into silence Yuri follows his line of sight and invariably sees Katsuki in his lame department store suit, sucking down yet another flute of champagne. He’ll discuss how gross it all ends up being, because there’s a stripper pole and partial nudity involved and he can never, ever admit to how well Katsuki owns him at his own preferred style of dance even though he’s drunk enough it’s deeply improbable how well he keeps on his feet. He’ll discuss how appalled he is when Katsuki wraps his champagne-soaked, half-dressed self around Victor, babbling in a drunken mixture of Japanese and English, begging in a delighted sing-song for Victor to coach him.

What Yuri won’t discuss is later, after Victor dances with him, smiling like he hasn’t in more than a year or maybe ever, when Yuri catches a glimpse through a part in the crowd, Yuuri Katsuki in Victor’s lap and the two of them laughing, murmuring, arms sliding around each other. Lips touching.

It’s not fair.

Yuri wonders, sometimes, if he knew what would happen after that--if he knew that one day he’d be in a backwater town somewhere in Japan on the ice with these two bumbling grownups, ready to stomp his feet and scream because they can’t take their eyes off each other, can’t stop clinging to each other, because I’m here, too! Pay attention to me, too! I need your love, too!

He wonders if he knew that, knew how disgusting they would end up being, how unimportant he would end up being to them, if he would have sent Victor the link.

Yuri sort of knows, in that moment when he’s watching the YouTube channel he swore he’d never look at again, curled on his bed surrounded by the posters he swore he was going to burn, when the internet suddenly explodes with Yuuri Katsuki. Would Victor even notice? Victor, who never notices anything anymore, especially not Yuri Plisetsky, even when Yuri Plisetsky is standing right in front of him, yelling in his face.

Without inspiration you’re as good as dead!

But maybe if Yuuri Katsuki is the only thing Victor will notice, the only thing he wants to notice, then maybe that’s better than him not noticing anything or anyone at all.

Yuri figures he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life, if he copies the YouTube link into this text message to Victor. He’s right.

He does it anyway.

And maybe one day he’ll admit to someone he trusts to never, ever repeat any such thing that he wouldn’t take it back, even if he had the chance. Even if he had a million chances, he’d press the send button every time, teeth grit in a scowl, ready to fling his phone into the sun as soon as it goes through. It’s selfless and unconditional and what pisses him off the most is that Victor knows, weeks later. He looks at Yuri and says agape like he’s already read everything in Yuri’s heart, like his love is an open book for Victor to peruse.

And Yuri will never, ever forgive either of them.

...

Except he does, this time. And every time after.

#yuri on ice #victuuri #viktuuri #victuri #vikturi #so many victories #hahaha #i enjoyed this little yurio interlude #even though i kinda made myself sad #he'll be ok though #casey writes fanfiction #despite what you've been told

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thenextrush · 5 years ago

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Last month’s new blockbuster movie releases are still making waves with this past weekend seeing The Lion King, Fast & Furious’ spin-off, Hobbs & Shaw and Spider-Man, all maintaining a spot in the top 10 movies smashing the box office! Angel has Fallen, though down 44.6% on last week, still managed to retain number 1 spots bringing its gross total takings to a whopping USD$11,842,000 (AUD$17,643,312) blowing everyone out of the water!

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So how’s Spring at the flicks looking you ask?

What’s on this month?

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Wednesday 4 September – ZZ Top: That Little Ol Band From Texas: Follows the story of three oddball teenage bluesmen who went on to become one of the biggest, most beloved bands on the planet.

Thursday 5 September – IT: Chapter Two: In the sleepy town of Derry, the evil clown Pennywise returns 27 years later to torment the grown-up members of the Losers’ Club, who have long since drifted apart. Starring James McAvoy, Jessica Chastain and Bill Skarsgård. Watch the second chapter of horror film IT as part of Event Cinemas’ monthly Fright Night scare sessions.

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Thursday 5 September – The Farewell: A headstrong Chinese-American woman returns to China when her family discovers their grandmother has only a short while left to live and decide to keep her in the dark, scheduling a wedding to gather everyone together before she dies. While staging the impromptu fake wedding, the young woman struggles with her family’s decision to keep her grandmother in the dark about her own illness. FeaturingCrazy Rich Asians and Ocean’s 8 stand-out star Awkwafina.

Thursday 12 September – Downton Abbey: The continuing story of the Crawley family, wealthy owners of a large estate and the servants who work for them in the English countryside in the early 20th century. The majority of the main cast of the TV series return for the movie including Allen Leech, Maggie Smith and Michelle Dockery.

Thursday 12 September – The Angry Birds Movie 2: When a new threat emerges that puts both Bird and Pig Island in danger, the flightless angry birds and the scheming green piggies must forge a truce and come together as an unlikely super team to save their homes. Featuring the voices of Jason Sudeikis, Danny McBride, Peter Dinklage and Awkwafina.

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Thursday 12 September – Armstrong: A dramatic and emotional documentary that features never-before-seen family home movie footage, along with still and moving images that chronicle Neil Armstrong’s incredible life.

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Thursday 12 September – The Game Change: Follows the story of James Wilks — Special Forces trainer and winner of The Ultimate Fighter — as he travels the world on a quest for the truth about meat, protein and strength.

Wednesday 18 September – Chicks at the Flicks: Advance screening of Ride Like a Girl. Every ticket receives a bonus gift bag, so get your friends together for a fun night at the movies.

Thursday 19 September – UglyDolls: An animated adventure in which the free-spirited UglyDolls confront what it means to be different, struggle with a desire to be loved and ultimately discover who you truly are is what matters most.

Thursday 19 September – Abominable: When a teenager encounters a young magical Yeti on the roof of her apartment building in Shanghai, she and her mischievous friends embark on an epic quest to reunite the magical creature with his family at the highest point on Earth.

Thursday 19 September – Good Boys: Three sixth grade boys ditch school and embark on an epic journey while carrying accidentally stolen drugs, being hunted by teenage girls and trying to make their way home in time for their first kissing party.

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Thursday 19 September – Ad Astra: An Astronaut must undertake a harrowing journey to the edge of our solar system when his long-lost scientist father seems to have resurfaced despite having been declared dead many years ago. Starring Hollywood heavyweights Brad Pitt and Tommy Lee Jones.

Red Carpet Snaps (August Preview):

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – AUGUST 31: DORA AND THE LOST CITY OF GOLD Special Family Preview Screening at HOYTS Entertainment Quarter on August 31, 2019 in Sydney, Australia. (Photo by Brendon Thorne/Getty Images for Paramount Pictures)

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – AUGUST 31: Yvonne Sokias and her children attend the DORA AND THE LOST CITY OF GOLD Special Family Preview Screening at HOYTS Entertainment Quarter on August 31, 2019 in Sydney, Australia. (Photo by Brendon Thorne/Getty Images for Paramount Pictures)

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – AUGUST 31: DJ Jazzy and guest attend the DORA AND THE LOST CITY OF GOLD Special Family Preview Screening at HOYTS Entertainment Quarter on August 31, 2019 in Sydney, Australia. (Photo by Brendon Thorne/Getty Images for Paramount Pictures)

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – AUGUST 31: Guests attend the DORA AND THE LOST CITY OF GOLD Special Family Preview Screening at HOYTS Entertainment Quarter on August 31, 2019 in Sydney, Australia. (Photo by Brendon Thorne/Getty Images for Paramount Pictures)

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – AUGUST 31: David Koch and guests attend the DORA AND THE LOST CITY OF GOLD Special Family Preview Screening at HOYTS Entertainment Quarter on August 31, 2019 in Sydney, Australia. (Photo by Brendon Thorne/Getty Images for Paramount Pictures)

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – AUGUST 31: Deauvanne Athanasakis and her children attends the DORA AND THE LOST CITY OF GOLD Special Family Preview Screening at HOYTS Entertainment Quarter on August 31, 2019 in Sydney, Australia. (Photo by Brendon Thorne/Getty Images for Paramount Pictures)

Thursday 19 September – Dora and the Lost City of Gold: Having spent most of her life exploring the jungle with her parents, nothing could prepare Dora for her most dangerous adventure ever — High School. Dora quickly finds herself leading a rag tag group of teens on an adventure to save her parents and solve the impossible mystery behind a lost city of gold.

Special Events:

Rachel Griffiths – Director of Red Like a Girl. Event Cinemas will also be running special Q&A screenings with Director Rachel Griffiths and Michelle Payne at select locations.

Thursday 26 September – Ride Like A Girl:

The film follows the incredible true story of Michelle Payne and how she overcame impossible odds to win the Melbourne Cup.

Q&A SCREENINGS AT EVENT CINEMAS 6.30pm:

Mon 9 Sept – George Street, Sydney Wed 11 Sept – Chermside Thurs 12 Sept – Innaloo

Mon 16 Sept – BCC Cinemas Toowoomba Strand Tues 17 Sept – Townsville City Wed 18 Sept – Cairns Central

Thurs 19 Sept – Kawana Friday 20 Sept – Pacific Fair

September Seniors Morning Tea Screenings: See Once Upon A Time In Hollywood on 4 September, The Keeper on 11 September, Downton Abbey on 18 September and Ad Astra on 25 Septemberand enjoy complimentary morning tea.

September In the House screenings: Some of the industry’s most celebrated films are set to return to the big screen at Event Cinemas as part of In the House! Join Ryan and Draz from Movie Nerds as they review celebrated screen classics. First film up is The Castle on 2 September, Forrest Gump on 9 September, The Shawshank Redemption on 23 September and Highlander on 30 September (In the House screenings shown at select cinemas).

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International Film Festivals:

Click on the image to see a complete schedule of international film festivals across the country on now right through to November!

September Movie Guide #eventcinemas #newmovies #movienight #sydneylatinamericanfilmfestival #koreanfilmfestival #japanesefilmfestival #greekfilmfestival #italianfilmfestival #movienews #blockbusterrelease Last month’s new blockbuster movie releases are still making waves with this past weekend seeing The Lion King, Fast & Furious’ spin-off, Hobbs & Shaw and Spider-Man, all maintaining a spot in the top 10 movies smashing the box office!

#Event Cinemas #Event Cinemas movie times #Hoyts movie times #Japanese Film Festival #Korean Film Festival #Latin American Film Festival sydney #Melbourne Event Cinemas times #Movie Guide #New Blockbuster movie release #Palace Cinemas movie times #Perth movie times #Sydney Hoyts movie times

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sempiternalsandpitturtle · 6 years ago

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What did Google’s ‘Medic’ algorithm update really do?

What is Google Medic, and how should you respond? That’s a good question – and here’s the short answer: Google Medic was a core algorithm update rolled out on August 1, 2018. It dramatically reduced organic traffic to certain websites by pushing them down the search rankings. Worst hit were sites in what Google calls the Your Money, Your Life (YMYL) category that didn’t do a good enough job of showcasing Expertise, Authoritativeness and Trustworthiness (EAT), especially sites offering health advice (hence the ‘Medic’ handle). The update showed that knowing how to write and cite high EAT content is now a vital skill for all content creators.

Okay, so now that you know Google Medic is something you need to understand and respond to, let’s unpack the subject. By the time you finish this article, you’ll know what Google Medic is, how it works, and – mostly importantly – how it should change the content you make in future, plus how you can recover if it blitzed your traffic.

Google Medic – how it happened

Firstly, we should acknowledge that this article will need to lean heavily on secondary sources. Google is very tight-lipped about the changes it makes to its core search algorithm, which has lead to an entire industry of SEO experts springing up. These people spend most of their lives with a metaphorical ear to the wall of Google HQ, trying to divine the details of how the algorithm promotes this kind of content and devalues that, so that they can pass it on to the rest of us content creators.

They do this partly with clever tools that measure things like volatility in search results – and on August 1, 2018 the dashboards on those tools started going berserk. Dramatic fluctuations in search position had caused traffic to a host of sites to plummet, which suggested that Google had rolled out a major change. The SEO experts scrambled to work out what was different, and this is what they found.

Who Google Medic affected

In an analysis on Moz.com in the week following the Google Medic rollout, marketing scientist Dr. Peter J. Meyers ranked the internet’s 30 biggest losers in terms of their drop in Serp positions. He found that Prevention.com had experienced the greatest drop in net position, with a 67 per cent decrease, followed by sites like LiveStrong.com, VeryWellFamily.com and OrganicFacts.com.

A note here on what these numbers mean: Dropping your ranking position by 67 per cent isn’t the same as losing 67 per cent of your traffic. After all, it’s only going to affect the proportion of traffic that you get from organic search. But as this chart from Advanced Web Ranking shows, a drop from position 1 to position 6 in search could mean that, where one week you were capturing 30 per cent of all clicks on a search, the next week your click-through rate might be less than 5 per cent. For huge sites like Prevention.com, which claims 5.3 million monthly users in its media kit, that kind of loss would represent a devastating blow to advertising revenue.

Image credit: Advanced Web Ranking

Anyway, looking again at that ‘biggest losers’ list, if you’re thinking that the common theme is a sort of lightweight health advice focus, you’re not wrong. However that’s not the entire picture. In this chart of affected sites created by Barry Schwartz of the Search Engine Roundtable, you can see that, while Medic predominantly affected sites that offer medical advice, sites in the e-commerce, finance, business and technology categories all took a hit.

Image credit: Barry Schwartz, Search Engine Roundtable.

So what was the common theme?

The answer lies in a concept that Google calls Your Money, Your Life.

Understanding ‘Your Money, Your Life’

For a company with a big reputation for artificial intelligence and machine learning, Google sure does use a lot of old-fashioned human feedback. Did you know that the firm maintains an army of 10,000 quality raters; independent contractors who manually evaluate the results turned up by Google searches?

These people are effectively sense-checking what the machines produce, and they are guided in this task by a 164-page document which – quelle surprise! – was quietly updated in the week before Medic rolled out. Here’s a quote from that document explaining how Google defines YMYL:

“Some types of pages could potentially impact the future happiness, health, financial stability, or safety of users. We call such pages “Your Money or Your Life” pages, or YMYL”

It goes on to explain that YMYL sites can include shopping pages, financial information pages, sites offering medical information or legal advice – as well as news pages and official sites covering things like disaster response that are “important for having an informed citizenry”.

Google says in this document that it has extra-strict standards for the quality of YMYL pages, in short because bad information on them could mess up people’s lives. Think about it:

Bad health advice could lead to serious health issues (think the ‘eat butter’ fad).

Bad building or home renovation advice could cost you thousands and even risk lives (think of New Zealand’s leaky homes crisis, or the Grenfell tower inferno).

Bad investment writing could cost people millions – even if it were legally sound.

Bad science writing could lead to a wave of climate change denial and the imminent destruction of the planet (oh wait, that already happened).

How does Google define quality? aka, understanding EAT

So now that we know what kind of information Google was targeting, let’s look at the how: How does Google define quality? How does it sort the wheat out from the chaff?

Actually, let’s pause at that phrase to consider for a moment what’s at stake. Google is – as ever – defining what information can easily be found on the internet, and what can’t. Such sheer power concentrated in one entity might outrage you, yet you definitely don’t want to be deemed chaff. Chaff gets consigned to the dustbin of history. So if you want a seat at the table (maybe a table where the wheat is being eaten? Sorry for mixing metaphors) then you need to follow Google’s rules.

And here those rules are, laid out conveniently in the aforementioned Quality Rater Guidelines, under the heading “Page Quality Rating: Most Important Factors”:

“Websites or pages without some sort of beneficial purpose … should receive the lowest rating. For all other pages that have a beneficial purpose, the amount of expertise, authoritativeness, and trustworthiness (E-A-T) is very important.” [my emphasis]

It’s as simple as that. The definition of quality comes down to expertise, authority and trust; basically, what you know, how you back that up, and how reliable you are.

Let’s hone in on how Google defines EAT in the health advice field:

“High E-A-T medical advice should be written or produced by people or organizations with appropriate medical expertise or accreditation. High E-A-T medical advice or information should be written or produced in a professional style and should be edited, reviewed, and updated on a regular basis.”

So reading between the lines here, if you want Google to take your content seriously in a post-Medic world, it must:

Come from or cite experts.

Explain their credentials.

Be free from spelling mistakes or other errors.

Cite sources that are up to date.

Case Study: How to recover from a Google Medic shock

For a before-and-after snapshot of a website hit hard by Google Medic, you need look no further than Prevention.com – the site that was reportedly most affected. You can see that one of the major ways they’ve dealt with the update was through a rapid lift in their editorial values. Here’s a screenshot from their carefree pre-Medic days, taken from a story titled “The Amazing Health Benefits of Walking Outside Every Day”

Just wow, right? They seriously told us that walking prevents lung cancer – even for smokers – without offering a single shred of evidence. God knows which starry-eyed intern actually penned the piece – the byline is completely vague. And the whole article continues in that vein, using phrases like “scientists say” for another half-dozen points. Filled with confidence we are not.

Compare that with the kind of article Prevention.com is now publishing in the post-Medic era.

Notice the difference? Within the first 75 words we have a citation for a study, the name of the science journal in which it was published, the name of the university where it was conducted, and a link out to the original paper. Note too that the author’s byline clearly states who has written the piece, and links to a short bio explaining her particular field of expertise. By jumping on The Wayback Machine, which archives old internet pages, you can also see that Prevention.com appears to have added an About Us page in October 2018 which explains in great detail how they consult experts for all their articles, and lists them all by name.

To my eyes this represents a major pivot in how Prevention.com creates their content, and it all aligns with Google’s stated values around EAT. As a classic YMYL site – one where bad advice would almost certainly affect its readers’ health – Prevention.com has been forced to radically up their game in how they display their EAT credentials, which in turn has provided us with a convenient how-to guide on recovering from a Medic-emergency,

A Medic defibrillator: Getting healthy the Castleford way

At Castleford we create content for hundreds of clients, so we were pleased to see that Google Medic had had little effect on their organic results. That’s largely because the algorithm only reinforced what we already knew, and enforced through our existing Editorial Department policies: Google will always champion quality content that enhances the user’s experience.

Nevertheless, it was a timely reminder that quality requires constant improvement, so we took the opportunity to run a Google Medic training session with our writers. It was informed by many of the sources we’ve cited here; by conversations with content creators in Australia and New Zealand; and by examining Prevention.com’s rapid pivot.

Here are some outtakes from that presentation that you may find helpful in your own content creation work – whether you’re interested in insulating yourself from Google Medic in future, or recovering from a shock:

Google Medic advice for content creators

Always consider the Expertise, Authoritativeness and Trustworthiness of your source material.

Don’t be shy about citing and linking out to high EAT sources.

Beware of citing flaky single-study science. The best high EAT sources are at the top of the science lifecycle – transnational and national bodies like the UN, WHO, government ministries, etc.

With reputable sources that aren’t quite at that level, give context about what the information means and where it comes from. E.g. “A new study by XYZ university adds further weight to the theory that…” NOT “A new study proves…”.

Be cautious about any advice that could affect ‘your money or your life’ – Google gives high scrutiny to this kind of content. Ensure the highest EAT sources are used.

The recency of sources should be considered a ranking factor.

Spelling and grammar should be considered a ranking factor.

Conclusions

Looking back, it seems amazing that Google Medic rolled out as late as it did. It was long overdue and will do much to clean up the old wild west of shonky health-lite, science-lite, advice-lite sites. Though of course it presents a fresh challenge to content creators. To stay relevant we must serve our audience with quality content, and go the extra mile in signaling to them (and Google) what makes that content authoritative and trustworthy. And that’s a good thing.

from http://bit.ly/2Tb0aFc

#content marketing

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everettwilkinson · 7 years ago

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RUSSIAN-OWNED MEGAYACHT makes its way to Palm Beach as Trump readies for Florida — WHAT AMERICA IS READING — WH aides give up on trying to control Trump’s Twitter — TOM RICKS: Why I left Washington

WHAT AMERICA IS READING — ANNISTON STAR (Alabama): “Moore’s poll numbers down in allegations’ wake” http://bit.ly/2iuF2cA … DENVER POST: “Tax bill’s winners, losers: Ultra-wealthy do well under plan passed by House this week” http://bit.ly/2jD90i1 … DETROIT FREE PRESS: “Rep. Dingell: I was also harassed … She says ‘prominent’ person touched her as allegations mount in D.C.” http://bit.ly/2hJiPdZ …

… CLEVELAND PLAIN DEALER: “‘Trickle-down’ idea floats back up: GOP says corporate tax cuts would speed growth despite spotty record” http://bit.ly/2mFjjTS … AUSTIN AMERICAN-STATESMAN: “White House relief plan gets panned: Abbot, other Texas leaders blast $44 billion disaster aid proposal” http://bit.ly/2itI40E … PALM BEACH POST: “Russian oligarch’s huge yacht docks at Port of Palm Beach: No word on whether Roman Abramovich will meet with Trump” http://bit.ly/2lXAawG

Story Continued Below

— FASCINATING, via today’s Palm Beach Post’s front page: “Days before President Trump flies into town for Thanksgiving, one of the world’s most expensive yachts, owned by Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich, sailed into the Port of Palm Beach Friday afternoon.

“The 533-foot Eclipse, valued at $400 million to $500 million, comes equipped with a pool, helipad, submarine and room for a crew of 92, according to marine websites. It made its way past The Bahamas and docked at 1:15 p.m, taking the slip normally reserved for the Grand Celebration, a cruise ship currently on hurricane-relief duty in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands. Originally booked to stay through Dec. 5, the Eclipse may have to leave Dec. 1, as it is being followed by the 644-foot World, billed as ‘the largest private residential ship on the planet,’ which is scheduled to arrive that day.

“Where will the Eclipse go? According to the MarineTraffic app, she plans to head south on the Intracoastal Waterway, toward downtown West Palm Beach. Note to Transportation Security Administration: That would put a Russian submarine within a mile or so of the winter White House.” http://bit.ly/2AbRhp1

**SUBSCRIBE to Playbook: http://politi.co/2ARWrD3

TALKER — TOM RICKS in FOREIGN POLICY: “Babylon Revisited: Melancholy Thoughts After a Short Trip to Washington, D.C.: As a young reporter in political Washington in the late 1980s, I noticed that there was a type of person who thrived in the driven, transactional environment of the capital.” http://atfp.co/2yXIIKh

HARDSHIP ASSIGNMENT — JONATHAN MARTIN and ALEX BURNS in Austin: “Republican Governors’ 2018 Dilemma: What to Do About Trump?” http://nyti.ms/2zNR8HS

Good Saturday morning. REALITY FINALLY SETS IN — “Aides give up on trying to control Trump’s tweets,” by Annie Karni: “When candidate Donald Trump waged a Twitter war against Khizr Khan, the Gold Star father who rebuked him from the stage of the Democratic National Convention, former House Speaker Newt Gingrich and New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie were sent in for a ‘tough love talk’ about the efficacy of the tweets, two former campaign officials recalled. Controlling potentially damaging tweets was a job left mostly to the legal team in the early days of the administration. Former attorneys Marc Kasowitz and Jay Sekulow gave Trump one simple rule to guide his tweeting habit: don’t comment online about the Russia investigation.

“‘The message was, tweet about policy, tweet about politics, but don’t attack the special counsel,’ recalled another former aide. None of the advice seemed to have any lasting effect on a president who views his own impulses as a virtue. And these days, the staff has basically stopped trying: there is no character inhabiting the West Wing who is dispatched to counsel the president when he aims the powerful weapon of his Twitter feed at himself.” http://politi.co/2AYJPdQ

NYT’S PETER BAKER — “In Mocking Franken Over Claims of Sexual Misconduct, Trump Joins a Debate He Started”: “[T]he notion that Mr. Trump himself would weigh in given his own history of crude talk about women and the multiple allegations against him surprised many in Washington who thought he could not surprise them anymore. A typical politician with Mr. Trump’s history would stay far away from discussing someone else’s behavior lest it dredge his own back into the spotlight. But as Mr. Trump has shown repeatedly during his 10-month presidency, he is rarely deterred by conventional political wisdom even as he leaves it to his staff to fend off the cries of hypocrisy.

“‘Like everything else Trump touches, he hijacks it with his chronic dishonesty and childishness,’ said Mark Salter, a longtime adviser to Senator John McCain, Republican of Arizona. ‘The intense, angry and largely ignorant tribalism afflicting our politics predates Trump’s arrival on the scene. But he has infused it with a psychopath’s inability to accept that social norms apply to him.’” http://nyti.ms/2hJ8PkX

CLINTON WEIGHS IN ON FRANKEN, MOORE — “Clinton blasts Trump and Moore over sexual misconduct allegations,” by Cristiano Lima: “Hillary Clinton slammed President Donald Trump and Alabama Senate candidate Roy Moore on Friday over their alleged sexual misconduct, criticizing them for not ‘accepting responsibility’ and ‘apologizing’ for their reported transgressions as Sen. Al Franken did. Clinton said that Franken, who was accused this week of groping a female broadcaster in 2006, acted responsibly by owning up to his actions and publicly apologizing for them — a far cry from the response given by Trump and Moore, she said.

“The former secretary of state and Democratic presidential nominee said that Franken’s request to have the Senate ethics panel investigate his sexual misconduct ‘is the kind of accountability I’m talking about.’ ‘I don’t hear that from Roy Moore or Donald Trump,’ she added during an interview with New York’s WABC radio. ‘Look at the contrast between Al Franken, accepting responsibility, apologizing, and Roy Moore and Donald Trump, who have done neither.’” http://politi.co/2hzuE2m

— CLINTON ON TRUMP’S PRESIDENCY: “Trump ‘has disgraced the office’ … Asked whether there was anything she admired about the Trump’s tenure in office thus far, Clinton replied: ‘No. The answer is absolutely no.’ ‘I didn’t think he’d be as bad as he turned out to be,’ she added.”

TRUMP RESPONDS — @realDonaldTrump at 8:31 a.m.: “Crooked Hillary Clinton is the worst (and biggest) loser of all time. She just can’t stop, which is so good for the Republican Party. Hillary, get on with your life and give it another try in three years!”

ABOUT THOSE GILLIBRAND-CLINTON COMMENTS — “Gillibrand remark on Clinton resignation shocks Democrats,” by Gabe Debenedetti in New York: “Kirsten Gillibrand is having a moment, whether she meant to or not. Going where no other prominent Democrat had before on Thursday evening by declaring that Bill Clinton should have resigned the presidency during the Monica Lewinsky scandal, the New York senator and potential 2020 presidential contender yet again found herself the face of a national conversation with the potential to dominate headlines and divide her party. …

“The longtime Clinton ally’s answer to the New York Times question neatly encapsulated how Gillibrand has placed herself front-and-center on the dominant issue of the day, even if it forces a debate her own party is uncomfortable confronting. And it highlighted the political dexterity that her critics and rivals often deride as opportunism: A former conservative Blue Dog House member, Gillibrand has reinvented herself as a leading progressive and face of the Trump resistance ahead of a potential presidential run.” http://politi.co/2hzVmIj

****** A message from Chevron: We’re piloting a program that uses drones to keep an eye on Chevron wells, tanks, and pipelines—all to keep DOERS and what they’re doin’ safer. Watch the video: http://politi.co/2zOnTVE ******

SHOW ME THE MONEY — “Roy Moore scandal ignites fundraising explosion for Democratic challenger Doug Jones,” by NBC News’ Alex Seitz-Wald: “The Roy Moore scandal has unleashed a torrent of online donations to Democrat Doug Jones, who was collecting around $250,000 per day in its immediate aftermath … Democrats may end up in the unlikely situation of dramatically outspending the GOP in the Senate contest in deep red Alabama now that national Republicans have abandoned Moore.” http://nbcnews.to/2zSy4FM

PRESIDENT TRUMP WEIGHS IN ON BIG GAME CONTROVERSY — @realDonaldTrump at 7:47 p.m.: “Put big game trophy decision on hold until such time as I review all conservation facts. Under study for years. Will update soon with Secretary Zinke. Thank you!” Trump also retweeted Greta Van Susteren and Piers Morgan this morning supporting his decision on trophy hunting.

— STATEMENT FROM INTERIOR SECRETARY RYAN ZINKE: “President Trump and I have talked and both believe that conservation and healthy herds are critical. As a result, in a manner compliant with all applicable laws, rules, and regulations, the issuing of permits is being put on hold as the decision is being reversed.”

IT’S ALL ABOUT THAT BASE — “Trump adds five conservatives to list of possible Supreme Court picks,” by Reuters’ Jim Oliphant and Andrew Chung: “In a move certain to please conservatives, President Donald Trump on Friday added five names to his list of candidates for a prospective U.S. Supreme Court vacancy as he presses ahead with a campaign to move the federal judiciary to the right. Two of them are appellate judges who were nominated by Trump earlier this year and confirmed by the Senate: Amy Coney Barrett and Kevin Newsom. Another, Brett Kavanaugh, sits on the U.S. Court of Appeals in Washington, long viewed as a stepping-stone to the high court. The others were Britt Grant, a Georgia Supreme Court justice, and Patrick Wyrick, a Oklahoma Supreme Court justice.” http://reut.rs/2yVce3h

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE — “Trump still loves polls,” by Josh Dawsey and Steven Shepard: “As a TV host, Donald Trump loved ratings. As president, he loves polls—as long as they show him on the upswing. He crowed on Twitter hours after landing back in Washington from his 12-day Asia tour about his Rasmussen number—46 percent—noting it was ‘one of the most accurate’ in 2016, and decried ‘fake news’ polls showing his approval in the 30s while also suggesting, with no evidence, that ‘some people’ think his numbers could be in the 50s. (The Rasmussen poll sank to 42 percent on Friday.)

“Aides in the White House often show Trump polls designed to make him feel good, according to aides and advisers. Usually they’re the ones that focus just on voters who cast ballots for him in 2016 or are potential Trump supporters —Trump’s base—but occasionally include public polls like Rasmussen, depending on what the numbers say. ‘You know, I thought that he’d be a little less in campaign mode than he’s been. I think he’s never really kind of gotten out of campaign mode and I thought he might,’ said New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie, a Trump adviser. ‘I guess it’s his judgment that that’s what he has to do but that’s surprised me a little bit.’” http://politi.co/2jAobZp

A PROBLEM FOR REPUBLICANS — “In towns and cities nationwide, fears of trickle-down effects of federal tax legislation,” by WaPo’s Renae Merle and Peter Jamison: “[I]n small towns and thriving cities, in Republican- and Democratic-leaning states, local leaders are warning that the $1.5 trillion tax legislation moving through Congress threatens to undermine their ability to raise money for government services, including police and schools. The Republican measures would eliminate or severely curtail taxpayers’ ability to lower their federal tax bill by deducting the cost of their state and local taxes. Without that offset, local leaders say, taxpayers will begin to seek relief closer to home, potentially making it more difficult to provide basic services.” http://wapo.st/2j6vAeX

FOR YOUR RADAR — AP at 9:01 a.m.: “PARIS (AP) – Lebanon’s Hariri says he is returning to his country, confirms he is resigning amid political tensions.”

ANOTHER TWIST IN THE RUSSIA INVESTIGATION — “Congressional aides may have answers on pro-Russia GOP platform change,” by Kyle Cheney: “As U.S. investigators probe whether President Donald Trump’s campaign orchestrated a Russia-friendly change to the Republican Party platform last summer, three senior Capitol Hill aides — including Speaker Paul Ryan’s chief of staff — may have answers about how the episode unfolded. The three staffers, who have not been accused of any wrongdoing, advised the GOP convention’s platform committee on foreign policy matters and had front-row seats when a low-profile group of delegates, acting in conjunction with Trump campaign officials, spiked a proposal urging a tougher U.S. policy against Russian aggression in Ukraine.

“That change has drawn scrutiny from the House and Senate intelligence committees as they investigate whether any Trump campaign officials cooperated with Russian meddling in the 2016 election. Some witnesses say they expect it to become a topic of interest in special counsel Robert Mueller’s parallel criminal probe. Spokespeople for the offices of two of the staffers told POLITICO they have not been in contact with Mueller or his team. But Ryan’s top aide, Jonathan Burks, would neither confirm nor deny whether he had heard from the special counsel: ‘I’m not going to have any comment,’ he said.” http://politi.co/2A7atUM

— “Moscow meeting in June 2017 under scrutiny in Trump probe,” by AP’s Desmond Butler, Mary Clare Jalonick and Eric Tucker: “Earlier this year, a Russian-American lobbyist and another businessman discussed over coffee in Moscow an extraordinary meeting they had attended 12 months earlier: a gathering at Trump Tower with President Donald Trump’s son, his son-in-law and his then-campaign chairman. The Moscow meeting in June, which has not been previously disclosed, is now under scrutiny by investigators who want to know why the two men met in the first place and whether there was some effort to get their stories straight about the Trump Tower meeting just weeks before it would become public … Congressional investigators have questioned both men — lobbyist Rinat Akhmetshin and Ike Kaveladze, a business associate of a Moscow-based developer and former Trump business partner — and obtained their text message communications.” http://bit.ly/2hKpTqC

KEEPING HIS SENSE OF HUMOR — @charlie_savage: “At Mayflower Hotel, Sessions jokes: ‘Is Ambassador Kislyak in the room before I get started? Any Russians? Anybody been to Russia? Got a cousin in Russia?’ #FedSoc2017”. 30-second video http://bit.ly/2A9Cvz7

HMM — “U.S. Flagged Russian Firm Kaspersky as Potential Threat as Early as 2004,” by WSJ’s Paul Sonne: “A Russian cybersecurity firm whose products current and former U.S. officials suspect Moscow has used as a tool for spying was flagged by U.S. military intelligence as a potential security threat as early as 2004, according to new information the Defense Department provided to Congress. … The DIA ‘began producing threat reporting referencing Kaspersky Lab as a threat actor as early as 2004,’ according to the email, reviewed by The Wall Street Journal, raising questions about why other federal agencies continued to use the firm’s products.” http://on.wsj.com/2mCiHyl

JARED WATCH — “Kushner failed to disclose outreach from Putin ally to Trump campaign,” by NBC News’ Ken Dilanian and Carol E. Lee: “President Trump’s son-in-law and senior adviser, Jared Kushner, failed to disclose what lawmakers called a ‘Russian backdoor overture and dinner invite’ involving a banker who has been accused of links to Russian organized crime, three sources familiar with the matter told NBC News. An email chain described Aleksander Torshin, a former senator and deputy head of Russia’s central bank who is close to Russian President Vladimir Putin, as wanting Trump to attend an event on the sidelines of a National Rifle Association convention in Louisville, Kentucky, in May 2016 … The email also suggests Torshin was seeking to meet with a high-level Trump campaign official during the convention, and that he may have had a message for Trump from Putin …

“Kushner rebuffed the request after receiving a lengthy email exchange about it between a West Virginia man and Trump campaign aide Rick Dearborn … Kushner responded to the email by telling Dearborn and the handful of other Trump campaign officials on the email that they should not accept requests from people who pretend to have contacts with foreign officials to aggrandize themselves … ‘Pass on this,’ Kushner responded … ‘A lot of people come claiming to carry messages. Very few we are able to verify. For now I think we decline such meetings.’” http://nbcnews.to/2AamRDs

— “Kushner attorney fires back at Senate Judiciary Committee,” by CNN’s Jeremy Herb and Evan Perez: “In a letter Friday to Senate Judiciary Chairman Chuck Grassley of Iowa and ranking Democrat Dianne Feinstein of California, attorney Abbe Lowell wrote that there were no ‘missing documents’ as the committee has alleged, while criticizing the panel’s leaders for going to the media on Thursday with their accusations ‘I would have assumed that, if there were any questions about our productions or exchanges, that would have been communicated to me directly before you made this a media event,’ Lowell wrote.” http://cnn.it/2isWU7A

PUTTING THE SQUEEZE ON MIDDLE EAST PEACE — “U.S. puts Palestinians on notice: D.C. office may be shuttered,” by AP’s Josh Lederman and Matt Lee: “The Trump administration put the Palestinians on notice Friday that it will shutter their office in Washington unless they’ve entered serious peace talks with Israel, U.S. officials said, potentially giving President Donald Trump more leverage as he seeks an elusive Mideast peace deal. Secretary of State Rex Tillerson has determined that the Palestinians ran afoul of an obscure provision in a U.S. law that says the Palestine Liberation Organization’s mission must close if the Palestinians try to get the International Criminal Court to prosecute Israelis for crimes against Palestinians. A State Department official said that in September, Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas crossed that line by calling on the ICC to investigate and prosecute Israelis.

“But the law leaves the president a way out, so Tillerson’s declaration doesn’t necessarily mean the office will close. Trump now has 90 days to consider whether the Palestinians are in ‘direct and meaningful negotiations with Israel.’ If Trump determines they are, the Palestinians can keep the office. The official said it was unclear whether the U.S. might close the office before the 90-day period expires, but said the mission remains open at least for now.” http://bit.ly/2yTYzcS

— “The Mooch is headed to Israel just weeks after ‘tone-deaf’ Holocaust poll,” by Page Six’s Kevin Dugan: “A month after Anthony Scaramucci’s ‘media venture’ posted a tasteless poll on the Holocaust, the short-lived White House communications director is taking a four-day trip to Israel, The Post has learned. ‘I’ll meet everybody,’ he told The Post on Friday, hours before he was to take off. ‘I’m having dinner with Dave Friedman, the ambassador, who’s a great friend of mine.’ The one-time hedgie is also heading to Yad Vashem, the Holocaust memorial site in Jerusalem, he said.” http://pge.sx/2j6XJCy

CLICKER – “The nation’s cartoonists on the week in politics,” edited by Matt Wuerker, whose birthday is today — 17 keepers http://politi.co/2AQIdlU

PHOTO DU JOUR: Maryland lacrosse player Dylan Maltz (right) of Ashburn, Va., shows off his pro-Trump tie to President Donald Trump as the president meets with NCAA championship teams at the White House on Nov. 17. | Evan Vucci/AP Photo

THE GRINCH — “CIA nixes holiday party invites for media,” by Ali Watkins: “CIA Director Mike Pompeo has opted not to invite reporters to the CIA’s annual holiday party this year, ending a years-long streak of inviting the intelligence press corps to the upscale event. The event has historically provided a rare opportunity for reporters to mingle with agency officials who typically shun or avoid them — but that the idea has been nixed by Pompeo, who has been openly critical of the news media, was hardly surprising. … The party, held in the agency’s iconic headquarters lobby, is also a famously bizarre Washington exercise. Reporters, closely minded by the CIA’s press staff, are able to mingle in the hors d’oeuvres line with station chiefs, foreign partners and occupants of the CIA’s executive offices.” http://politi.co/2zPqD48

BRETT TALLEY PROFILE – “Law clerk by day, ghost hunter by night, now Trump’s judiciary nominee,” by WaPo’s Robert O’Harrow Jr.: “Few in memory have been nominated with credentials quite like those of [Brett] Talley, 36, an Alabama native, a political speechwriter, an author of horror books and a fledgling lawyer who has never tried a case. In 2009 and 2010, he was a member of the Tuscaloosa Paranormal Research Group, a volunteer operation that since the early 2000s has held all-night vigils and used infrared cameras, handheld sensors and other devices to search for spectral entities in plantation mansions, abandoned hospitals and other buildings. … In 2014, when he was a speechwriter on Capitol Hill, Talley took a Post reporter ghost hunting in a District cemetery.” http://wapo.st/2ze5jGK

NOT THE ONION – “Candidate for Ohio governor reveals sexual past on Facebook,” by AP’s Julie Carr Smyth in Columbus: “A state Supreme Court justice running for governor volunteered candid details of his sexual past on Facebook on Friday, saying he was taking a swipe at the ‘media frenzy’ over sexual misconduct. Democrat William O’Neill’s post was immediately attacked as inappropriate and led to calls for his ouster. In it, he wrote that he has been ‘sexually intimate with approximately 50 very attractive females,” including ‘a gorgeous blonde’ with whom he ‘made passionate love’ in a hay loft and a ‘drop dead gorgeous red head’ from Cleveland.” http://bit.ly/2zPfuAH

WES GOODMAN UPDATE — “How a conservative group dealt with a fondling charge against a rising GOP star,” by WaPo’s Kimberly Kindy and Elise Viebeck: “On a fall evening two years ago, donors gathered during a conference at a Ritz-Carlton hotel near Washington to raise funds for a 31-year-old candidate for the Ohio legislature who was a rising star in evangelical politics. Hours later, upstairs in a hotel guest room, an 18-year-old college student who had come to the event with his parents said the candidate unzipped his pants and fondled him in the middle of the night.

“The frightened teenager fled the room and told his mother and stepfather, who demanded action from the head of the organization hosting the conference … Tony Perkins, president of the Council for National Policy [and head of the Family Research Council] … Goodman, 33, abruptly resigned this week after state legislative leaders learned of what the House speaker called ‘inappropriate behavior related to his state office.’ Local media outlets have reported the behavior involved a consensual sexual encounter with a male visitor in his legislative office.” http://wapo.st/2AYMkgf

DRIP, DRIP, DRIP — “Rep. Gianforte’s account to police on assault of reporter appears to contradict his later apology,” by WaPo’s Ellie Silverman: “Documents released by law enforcement officials in Montana on Friday show that Greg Gianforte, then the Republican candidate in the state’s special congressional election, told police in May that a reporter from the Guardian had grabbed his wrist during a physical altercation at his campaign headquarters, blaming the ‘liberal media’ for ‘trying to make a story.’ His statement appears to contradict the apology he later issued to Ben Jacobs, saying the reporter ‘did not initiate any physical contact with me,’ raising questions about whether the congressman was truthful with authorities. Travis Hall, a spokesperson for Gianforte, referred The Washington Post to a statement given to the Associated Press, in which he said the information in the documents was ‘nothing new.’” http://wapo.st/2jyIgPE

****** A message from Chevron: This is a story about energy, safety, and some truly high-flyin’ doin’. We’re piloting a program that uses drones, HD imaging, and thermal mapping to help keep a close eye on Chevron wells, tanks, and pipelines—all to keep DOERS and what they’re doin’ safer. Watch the video: http://politi.co/2zOnTVE ******

VALLEY TALK — “The TED talks empire has been grappling with sexual harassment, interviews and internal emails show,” by WaPo’s Elizabeth Dwoskin and Danielle Paquette: “[B]ehind the scenes, TED owner Chris Anderson and other senior officials [has] been grappling with accusations for much of the year that their own conferences, famed for turning short speeches by leading figures into viral videos, had not been a safe place for women — and that the atmosphere of predatory male behavior was getting worse. At least five people, including a past main stage speaker, told TED officials that they were harassed or groped during the organization’s flagship conference in Vancouver in April.” http://wapo.st/2iu1DWJ

— “Y Combinator Cuts Ties With Peter Thiel After Ending Part-Time Partner Program,” by BuzzFeed’s Ryan Mac: “Billionaire venture capitalist and Facebook board member Peter Thiel is no longer affiliated with startup accelerator Y Combinator, according to an edited company blog post. Thiel was formerly a part-time partner with the accelerator.” http://bzfd.it/2zNwd7C

CHRIS FRATES talks to former Obama WH ethics czar and Amb. Norm Eisen about “suing Trump, returning to his mother’s homeland as ambassador after she was driven out and sent to Auschwitz by the Nazis, and being the inspiration for a Jeff Goldblum character.” “Politics Inside Out with Chris Frates” airs today at 9 a.m. and 9 p.m., Sunday at 1 p.m., and Monday at 2 p.m. on SiriusXM channel 124 and on demand on the SiriusXM app. Clips for Playbookers: Eisen on resisting Trump https://goo.gl/vhTdtd … Finding Nazi artifacts in the U.S. ambassador’s house in Prague https://goo.gl/BnchFU … Goldblum https://goo.gl/HF8J8A

MEDIAWATCH — “The Kochs Are Inching Closer to Becoming Media Moguls,” by NYT’s Sydney Ember and Ken Vogel: http://nyti.ms/2mACNsE

— “Daily Beast among digital sites eyeing sale,” by CNN’s Dylan Byers: “Digital media is facing a reckoning. The start-ups that were once the darlings of the industry are facing budget shortfalls and revenue declines as they struggle to survive in an over-saturated market where Google and Facebook lay claim to the vast majority of ad dollars. Now, the bubble is bursting and many of these companies are looking to sell. In the latest evidence of volatility, CNN has learned that IAC is entertaining potential buyers for The Daily Beast, the news and opinion site launched nearly a decade ago by former Vanity Fair editor Tina Brown.” http://cnnmon.ie/2ze19yu

— CHRIS WALLACE in WaPo, “The media is giving up its place in our democracy”: http://wapo.st/2jzPyTf

— TYLER BRULE’s final FT column http://on.ft.com/2zRvgZy

LATE-NIGHT BEST — BILL MAHER’s segment last night pushing back against efforts to conflate Al Franken’s action with the sexual abuse allegations facing Roy Moore, Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, Donald Trump and others. 7-min. video http://bit.ly/2AWQ7Lc

GREAT WEEKEND READS, curated by Daniel Lippman, filing from Middleburg, Virginia:

— “Your Reckoning. And Mine,” by Rebecca Traister in NYMag: “As stories about abuse, assault, and complicity come flooding out, how do we think about the culprits in our lives? Including, sometimes, ourselves.” http://bit.ly/2zMLsOp

— “The Tech Industry’s Gender-Discrimination Problem,” by the New Yorker’s Sheelah Kolhatkar: “The dramatic imbalance in pay and power has created the conditions for abuse. More and more, women are pushing for change.” http://bit.ly/2A7pcyZ

— “How One Woman’s Digital Life Was Weaponized Against Her,” by Brooke Jarvis in Wired – per Longform.org’s description: “After the relationship ended, the harassment began.” http://bit.ly/2hJ1uBT

— “The Meaning of Sharp Power,” by Christopher Walker and Jessica Ludwig in Foreign Affairs: “Over the past decade, China has spent tens of billions of dollars to shape public opinion and perceptions around the world, employing a diverse toolkit that includes thousands of people-to-people exchanges, wide-ranging cultural activities, the development of media enterprises with global reach, and educational programs. The most notable of these is the ever-expanding network of Confucius Institutes.” http://fam.ag/2zOSvWc

— “The Lost Genocide,” by Doug Bock Clark in Longreads: “Why the United Nations may never be able to prosecute the Rohingya genocide.” http://bit.ly/2yTOcWw

— “On Being Midwestern: The Burden of Normality,” by Phil Christman in the Hedgehog Review — per ALDaily.com’s description: “What’s it like to be from “an abstract nowhere”? Midwesterners have a regional identity built on the idea of unqualified normality. But that isn’t as simple as it sounds.” http://bit.ly/2AXOnRW

— “Avengers in Wrath: Moral Agency and Trauma Prevention for Remote Warriors,” by Dave Blair and Karen House on Lawfare – per TheBrowser.com’s description: “We think of remote drone pilots as somewhat akin to high-powered video-gamers, wreaking havoc on a screen. And perhaps they are. But they experience their role as something much closer to real-world combat and killing. The imperative is not ‘kill or be killed’, as it would be in localised combat, but rather, ‘kill or someone else will be killed’ — and the stress is almost as great. ‘A world without your fire support could easily become a world without your comrades.’” http://bit.ly/2zSat8e

— “Iraq’s Surprise: The Persistence of Democracy,” by Yaroslav Trofimov on the cover of WSJ’s Review section: “Long fractured, the country stands out in the Middle East for maintaining free elections and a robust press.” http://on.wsj.com/2hJP2Sk

— “The Brothers Who Bought South Africa,” by Matthew Campbell and Franz Wild in Bloomberg Businessweek: “The continent’s most important economy now appears to function for the benefit of one powerful family.” https://bloom.bg/2j37KAO

— “Two Murder Convictions for One Fatal Shot,” by Ken Armstrong in The New Yorker: “In dozens of criminal trials, prosecutors have put the same gun in the hands of more than one defendant.” http://bit.ly/2zcvmhe

— “The myth of the male bumbler,” by Lili Loofbourow in The Week: “Allow me to make a controversial proposition: Men are every bit as sneaky and calculating and venomous as women are widely suspected to be.” http://bit.ly/2zPE4Br

— “Rug Money,” by the Weekly Standard’s Alice B. Lloyd: “Paul Manafort ruined a solid scam, says former middleman for Iranian regime, as well as IRS and Treasury agents.” http://tws.io/2jyDbHd

— “How Did Two All-Americans Fall In With ISIS?” by Mike Mariani in Psychology Today – per Longform.org’s description: “In 2015, two bright Mississippi State college students started dating. Months later, they were planning their life together—alongside ISIS.” http://bit.ly/2j3W695

–“How an Atlanta power couple’s business has heightened Hollywood and Silicon Valley’s piracy anxieties,” by LATimes’ Ryan Faughnder: http://lat.ms/2jBOf6m

— “Spurned by ESPN, Barstool Sports Is Staying on Offense,” by Jay Caspian Kang in tomorrow’s NYT Magazine: “There exists a swarm of angry sports fans who maintain that they do not want to talk about Colin Kaepernick or the national anthem, and Barstool has cleared a space for them to gather and talk, mostly, about just how much they don’t want to talk about politics. They claim to be an overlooked majority — the vast market inefficiency that will richly reward anyone who will let them watch their games, memes and funny videos without having to feel bad about themselves. Barstool is their safe space.” http://nyti.ms/2hHvY7k

SPOTTED: Stephen Miller dining at DBGB last night in City Center … Larry Rasky, Dick Keil and Mark Paustenbach at the Dead & Co. show last night at the TD Garden in Boston … Sen. Sherrod Brown (D-Ohio) on an early Friday morning United flight to Cleveland from DCA

REMEMBERING BOBBY BAKER – WaPo’s Jon Thurber: “Bobby Baker, a protege of future president Lyndon B. Johnson whose career of wealth and privilege came crashing down in an influence-peddling scandal, died Nov. 12 — his 89th birthday — in St. Augustine, Fla. Mr. Baker [was] once the most influential staffer in the U.S. Senate … ‘Mr. Baker, I understand you know where the bodies are buried in the Senate. I’d appreciate it if you’d come to my office and talk with me,’ the newly elected Sen. Johnson (D-Tex.) said in his first telephone conversation with Mr. Baker in late 1948. Mr. Baker was just 20 at the time and a staffer for the Senate leadership … His vast knowledge of the operations of the Senate and his facility in the art of accommodation — moving pet legislative projects ahead for some senators or helping fulfill the proclivities of others for drink, sex or cash — would make him an invaluable asset to Johnson.” http://wapo.st/2zNz94k

HAPPENING TODAY — The Clinton School and Clinton Foundation are hosting a conversation in Little Rock with Bill and Hillary Clinton, moderated by James Carville at 3:30 p.m. Livestream http://bit.ly/2Aasphn

— SPOTTED at the Capital Hotel Bar and Grill in Little Rock last night for the 25th Clinton campaign: DeeDee Myers, Gene Sperling, Mary Streett, Stephanie Streett, John Podesta, Tamera Luzzatto, Jim Kennedy, JoDee Winterhof, Jill Alper, David Beaubaire, Kris Balderston, Adrienne Elrod, James Carville, Amanda Crumley, Patrick Mellody, James Greelish, Catherine Cornelius

BIRTHWEEK (was yesterday): Jeff Watters, director of government Relations at the Ocean Conservancy (hat tip: Samantha Bisogno)

BIRTHDAYS: NYT’s Sheryl Stolberg … Megyn Kelly is 47 … Politico cartoonist Matt Wuerker … USA Today’s Heidi Przybyla … Margaret Capehart … ABC News’ Gregory Simmons … Brian Forest, who is joining NAM on Monday as director of strategic messaging and most recently served as McConnell’s chief speechwriter … Carrie Matthews of Hamilton Place Strategies … Dan Sadlosky, policy adviser to House Majority Whip Steve Scalise … Politico’s Theo Meyer and Patricia Kolby … Tom Namako, deputy news director at BuzzFeed and a WSJ and N.Y. Post alum … Andrea Stone, director of career services at CUNY’s Graduate School of Journalism … Cassi Gritzmacher, head of executive comms at Away … Robert Dougherty, Rep. Julia Brownley’s senior LA and the pride of Syracuse, NY (h/t Samantha Greene) …

… Cornyn comms. director Drew Brandewie is 33 … Teddie Norton, director of government affairs operations at the Independent Insurance Agents & Brokers of America (h/t Mike Reilly) … Abby Tinsley … Trisha Farr … Brian Knapp … Rep. Tom Reed (R-N.Y.) is 46 … Rep. Bruce Westerman (R-Ark.) is 5-0 … former Rep. J.C. Watts (R-Okla.) is 6-0 … Rep. Salud Carbajal (D-Calif.) is 53 … Nick Ragone … Nima Faz … Arshad Hasan … Waldo Tibbetts … Nicole Ianucci … Gregory Kallenberg … David Frank … Noelia Rodriguez … Hanna Skandera … Richard Maopolski … Gregg Holman … Erica DeVos … Jon Kaplan … Meg Gage … Ace Smith (h/ts Teresa Vilmain)

THE SHOWS by @MattMackowiak, filing from Austin:

—“Fox News Sunday”: Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin. Panel: Jason Chaffetz, Jessica Tarlov, Jason Riley and Juan Williams … “Power Player of the Week” with Rep. Elise Stefanik (R-N.Y.)

–CBS’s “Face the Nation”: Sen. Tom Cotton (R-Ark.) … Rep. Jackie Speier (D-Calif.) … OMB Director Mick Mulvaney. Panel: David French, Jennifer Jacobs, Ruth Marcus and Ed O’Keefe

–NBC’s “Meet the Press”: Rep. Barbara Comstock (R-Va.) and Rep. Debbie Dingell (D-Mich) … OMB Director Mick Mulvaney. Panel: Bob Costa, Rich Lowry, Joy Reid and Amy Walter

–CNN’s “State of the Union”: Sen. Susan Collins (R-Maine) … OMB Director Mick Mulvaney … Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.). Panel: Amanda Carpenter, Neera Tanden, Michael Caputo and Rep. Robin Kelly (D-Ill.)

–ABC’s “This Week”: Marc Short … Sen. Susan Collins (R-Maine) … Del. Eleanor Holmes Norton (D-D.C.) … Rep. Mary Bono (R-Calif.) … Carly Fiorina … Ronan Farrow. Panel: Matthew Dowd, Cecilia Vega, Lanhee Chen, Stephanie Cutter and Megan Murphy

–CNN’s “Inside Politics” with John King: Karoun Demirjian, Michael Shear, Eliana Johnson and Rachael Bade (substitute anchor: CNN’s Nia-Malika Henderson)

–CNN’s “Reliable Sources”: Panel: Birmingham News’ Anna Claire Vollers, Washingtonian Magazine’s Elaina Plott, Michelle Ciulla Lipkin and Marc Fisher … Bill Carter … Angelo Carusone … Jacquelyn Martin … Anthony Atamanuik

–Fox News’ “Sunday Morning Futures”: Eric Trump … Rep. Peter Roskam (R-Ill.) … Rep. Darrell Issa (R-Calif.) … Bud Cummins. Panel: Ed Rollins and Mary Kissel

–Fox News’ “MediaBuzz”: Emily Jashinsky … Francesca Chambers … Michael Tomasky … Susan Ferrechio … Lynn Sherr … Leslie Marshall … Amy Holmes … Mara Liasson

–CNN’s “Fareed Zakaria GPS”: Niall Ferguson, The Economist’s Anne McElvoy and author and former Polish Defense Minister Radoslaw Sikorski … Ray Dalio … Salman Rushdie

–Univision’s “Al Punto”: Rep. Linda Sanchez (D-Calif.) … undocumented immigrants and former sanctuary church refugees Jeanette Vizguerra, Jaime Flores and Amanda Morales … Isabel Allende … Univision Investiga director Gerardo Reyes and Univision News investigative journalist Peniley Ramírez … musician Alejandro Sanz

–C-SPAN: “The Communicators”: Adam Alter … “Newsmakers”: Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, questioned by the Houston Chronicle’s Kevin Diaz and Politico’s Josh Gerstein … “Q&A”: Musician and author Daryl Davis

–PBS’ “To the Contrary”: Rep. Marcia Fudge (D-Ohio)

–Washington Times’ “Mack on Politics” weekly politics podcast with Matt Mackowiak (download on iTunes, Google Play, or Stitcher or listen at http://bit.ly/2mCW4tB). Syndicated columnist and American Commitment president Phil Kerpen.

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