#high speed electric bikes

[amoelectricbikes]

Which Type of Battery is the Best for Electric Scooter?

The best type of battery for an electric scooter depends on factors like performance, cost, weight, and durability. Among the various types of batteries available, Lithium-ion (Li-ion) batteries are considered the best overall choice for electric scooters due to their superior characteristics. When most batteries have failed in the market, AMO designed a powerful Li-ion battery to last long and give you maximum range on the road.

Electric Scooter Battery can be charged quickly using the standard charging cable. In case of urgency, you can get it charged to 60 percent capacity in less than 120 minutes. For a full charge, you will need to charge the e-scooter for 3-5 hours. The best part about batteries is that they are waterproof with an airtight sealing, which won’t let the batteries get wet and damaged easily.

Here are some different types of Electric Scooter Battery:

• Lithium-ion (Li-ion) Batteries

• Lithium Iron Phosphate (LiFePO4) Batteries

• Lead-Acid Batteries

• Nickel-Metal Hydride (NiMH) Batteries

Recommendation: For most modern electric scooters - Lithium-ion batteries are the best option due to their lightweight, high energy density, and long lifespan.

What is the cost of a battery in an electric scooter?

The AMO Jaunty Plus electric scooter is equipped with a 60V 40Ah lithium-ion detachable battery, offering a claimed range of approximately 120 kilometers on a full charge.

While the exact replacement cost of this battery isn't specified on the official website, lithium-ion batteries of similar specifications typically range in budget friendly in India.

It's important to note that the Jaunty Plus comes with a 3-year battery warranty, which may cover certain battery issues during this period.

For precise pricing and warranty details, it's advisable to contact AMO Mobility's customer service.

AMO Mobility Solutions Pvt. Ltd.

Website: www.amomobility.com

Phone: +91 7011294211, 9625224030

Email: contact01@amomobility.com

[chensionmi488]

How Fast Do Electric Bikes Go? A Look at DYU

The e-bike industry is thriving, and one brand that stands out in this exciting field is DYU. Known for their innovative designs and high-quality performance, DYU electric bikes offer a fantastic riding experience that is both enjoyable and efficient.

When it comes to speed, many potential riders often wonder, 'How fast do electric bikes go?' DYU bikes can reach impressive speeds, typically around 20 to 30 mph, depending on the model and conditions. This speed not only makes commuting faster but also adds an element of thrill to your ride.

With DYU, you can enjoy the wind in your hair as you zip through the streets, all while knowing you're making a smart choice for the environment. So, if you're looking for a fun and sustainable way to travel, consider exploring the world of DYU electric bikes!

[hopelectric12]

[entertainment-and-you]

Lyric Graffiti X: The Future of Urban Commuting

In a recent showcase, the Lyric Graffiti X has been introduced as the latest innovation in electric bikes, promising to revolutionize urban commuting. This high-performance e-bike boasts a robust 6061 aluminum frame and is equipped with 16-inch moto rims, CST dual sport moto tires, and a moto tube for enhanced durability and performance. The bike features the Mura MT5 four-piston hydraulic disc…

[hoshifighting]

Racer!Reader x Racer!Mingyu 一 Rivals to Lovers

Synospsis: Racer!Mingyu, the new kid, is determined to beat you in the college underground race. Does he have the guts to defeat you, his senior, the reigning queen of the racing scene? Before the race starts, a photo of your boyfriend cheating on you is spread to the students. When you look up from your phone, there's Mingyu with his piercing eyes. [...]

“Hmm, all upset, just the way I wanted,” Mingyu teased, leaning against the doorframe.

WC: 8k

Warnings: Cheating, illegal racing, rumors, smut, angst, penetrative sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), squirt, clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, body fluids (cum), kinda of rage make out?, chocking, spanking, dirty talk, sex pic and etc.

Mingyu. A name that had once been just a murmur in the shadows of the racing world is now on everyone's lips. This new kid, this prodigy, decided to go against the grain, to take on the best and make a name for himself. 

And somehow, you're the one he's set his sights on. The competition is obvious, like the electricity in the air before a storm, and the entire college is buzzed with bets. It's impossible to ignore the excitement at the thought of the race tonight. It's been too long since you've felt this alive.

The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline is already in your nose, a scent that brings back a flood of memories. The first time you felt the wind rush past you on two wheels, the rush of adrenaline when you crossed the finish line ahead of the pack. 

The races had been your escape, your way to prove to the world that you were more than just another face in the crowd. 

And now, as you lace up your boots and slip into your worn-in leather jacket, you know that this race will be different. It's not just about the thrill anymore. It's about pride, about maintaining your title, about showing Mingyu that he's bitten off more than he can chew.

The stakes are higher than ever before. You can feel it in the way Mark's eyes darken every time he looks at you, in the way he clenches his fists when Mingyu's name is mentioned.

As you swing your leg over your bike and rev the engine, you push those thoughts aside. Tonight, there's only one thing that matters: the race, the roar of the engines, and the taste of victory.

Mingyu's eyes sparkle inside his helmet, the gleaming visor reflecting the neon lights of the college parking lot that's been transformed into a makeshift race track. He's young, fearless, and he's got something to prove. 

You've watched him from afar, studied his technique, his daring moves that have earned him the title of 'the rookie to watch'. He's good, really good, but he's never raced against someone like you. You're the old war-horse in this game, a veteran who's seen it all and done it all. 

And now, the moment has arrived.

The girl in the quadriculed flag raises it high, her arm muscles taut with excitement. You and Mingyu lock eyes for a brief second, a silent promise of a fierce battle to come. And then, with a nod from her, you both speed off into the night. Your bike responds to your touch like a well-trained steed, the engine purring as you lean into the first turn.

But this is your turf, and you're not about to let some newcomer take your crown without a fight.

As the race extends, the wind whips through your hair, and the roar of the engines fills your ears. The world around you is a blur of lights and shadows, the only thing clear being the track ahead and the figure of Mingyu on your tail. 

You push harder, feeling the bike protest under your command, but she holds steady. You're the lead, with Mingyu playing the role of the eager suitor, eager to overtake. You can't help but smile beneath your helmet. It's been so long since someone's made you feel this alive. The thrill of the chase is intoxicating, and you're going to enjoy every second of it.

As you cross the finish line, you pull a dramatic wheelie, the tires screeching and smoking against the asphalt. You circle around, revving the engine, feeling the power beneath you, and as you come to a stop, Mingyu pulls up beside you. 

You both remove your helmets, and the chilly night air kisses your sweat-drenched skin. His eyes are on you, focused and intense, drinking in the sight of you. Your hair is a wild mess around your face, the wind from the race playing with it like it's alive.

You swing your leg over the bike, the leather of your pants hugging your thighs tightly. You stand there, arms crossed over your chest, looking at him. He's tall, with a muscular build that's clear even through his bulky racing gear. His face is a mask of determination, and there's something about the way he carries himself that makes you want to knock him down a peg.

"So, what's your name, kid?" you ask, your voice carrying over the din of the engines.

Mingyu's face cracks into a smirk, and he extends his hand towards you. "Mingyu. Kim Mingyu," he says, his voice deep and sure. But you don't take the bait. You keep your arms crossed, your eyes locked on his.

His smirk falters a little when you ignore his outstretched hand, and he slowly lowers it. 

The crowd around you goes quiet, watching this silent exchange like it's a scene from a movie. They know the history, the tension, and the unspoken challenge that's just been laid down.

"Well, you must know me," you say, the leather jacket creaks as you tighten your grip. 

"I know of you," he says, his language tinged with a hint of an accent. "But I'm not here to bow down to reputations. I'm here to make my own." You can't help but respect that.

The crowd around you is hushed, waiting for the next move. Mark is there, his eyes on you, a silent question in his gaze. You give him a nod, reassuring him that you're okay, that you're in control.

 The rivalry between you and Mingyu has only just started, and it's going to be one hell of a race.

Mark storms over, eyes flashing with anger. "What the hell are you two talking about for so long?" His voice cuts through the cheers of the crowd, drawing their attention. You feel the tension between him and Mingyu, like a string pulled taut, ready to snap.

Mingyu just watches him with that sly grin, clearly enjoying the show. His gaze flickers over you, lingering on your leather pants, and you feel a shiver of annoyance and something else you can't quite name.

"Hey, Mark," you say, trying to keep your tone light, but there's an edge to it. "Calm down. We were just talking."

"Talking? That's what you're calling it?" Mark's voice is loud, drawing even more eyes to your little drama. He turns to Mingyu, his face red. "And what are you looking at?"

You roll your eyes, the frustration bubbling up inside you. "Mark, walk."

He stares at you, eyes wide in disbelief. "What?"

"Yeah, walk," you repeat, your voice firm. "Just go cool off."

For a moment, it looks like he might argue, but then he glances at Mingyu, who’s still smirking, clearly enjoying the spectacle. With a huff, Mark turns on his heel and stalks off, the crowd parting to let him through.

Mingyu chuckles, a low sound that only you can hear. "What an obedient boyfriend you have."

You shoot him a look, half warning, half curiosity. "Don't push your luck, Mingyu."

He raises his hands in mock surrender, the grin never leaving his face. "Just calling it like I see it. But seriously," his tone shifts, becoming more sincere, "you were amazing out there."

"Thanks," you say, the word coming out more curt than you intended. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension from Mark's outburst. "So, why did you want to race me, really?"

Mingyu’s expression becomes thoughtful, the cocky façade slipping just a little. "Because I wanted to see if the rumors were true. And now, I know they are."

You can't help but smile at that, feeling a rush of pride. "Well, you gave me a good run for my money."

"Next time," he says, his voice low and filled with promise, "I'll be the one crossing the finish line first."

"We'll see about that," you reply, walking out with your motorcycle by your side, glancing at him over your shoulder. 

[...]

Mingyu, the new kid, had something different, something that pushed your limits in a way no other rival had before. It was exhilarating, but also stressful. And your boyfriend’s incessant comments about Mingyu didn’t help.

Every time he brought up how Mingyu looked at you, how rude he was, how he thought he was the most incredible thing, you rolled your eyes. Mark’s jealousy was nothing new, but you’d never seen him so uncomfortable around someone before.

For the past month, you’d heard from other students that Mingyu had been spreading rumors about how he was going to win this race, no matter what. It was irritating, but also a challenge you couldn’t ignore.

As you were heading to your P.E. class, you saw Mingyu and his friend walking down the hallway. He spotted you immediately, a grin spreading across his face.

"Look who's here, Y/N... without the leather jacket?" His eyes roved over your tight gymnastic clothing, clearly enjoying the sight.

You smiled around the scrunchie you held between your teeth as you tidied up your hair, then pulled it free to tie it up. "Look who’s here, Mingyu... still talking big?" you teased back, not missing a beat.

He laughed, a rich sound that echoed down the hall. "Only because I’ve got the skills to back it up."

"Oh, really?" you said, raising an eyebrow. "All I’ve seen so far is a lot of talk."

"Maybe you just haven’t been paying close enough attention," he replied, leaning casually against the lockers. "I’ll make sure to give you a front-row seat next time."

You finished tying your hair and gave him a mock look of concern. "I’d hate to see you disappoint all those fans you’ve been bragging to."

He smirked, undeterred. "Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered. You might want to start thinking about a new title because that crown is coming my way."

"Big words for someone who hasn't beaten me yet," you shot back, stepping closer, your confidence unwavering.

"We'll see about that," he said, his voice low and filled with promise. His eyes held yours for a moment longer, the air between you crackling with tension.

Mingyu doesn't look the least bit afraid of you, of your reputation, of what you can do on this track. He's bold, maybe even a little cocky, and you can't decide if you like it or if it just makes you want to wipe that smug look off his face. 

You've always been the one everyone looks up to, the one they whisper about in the halls. But now, there's someone new, someone who doesn't seem to know his place. And that's what makes him so intriguing.

You know Mingyu will be back, and he'll be better next time. And you can tell your boyfriend, Mark, is not happy about this new rivalry一about the way Mingyu makes you feel alive again.

"You've got to get your head out of the clouds, Y/N," Mark says as you look to the ceiling, "This isn't just a game anymore."

You pull back, looking up at him. "What do you mean?"

"Mingyu," he says, his voice tight with anger, "he's different. He's not like the others."

You roll your eyes, trying to play it off. "He's just a freshman with a fast bike," you say.

"He's been watching you," Mark says, his eyes searching yours, "studying you. He's got a vendetta, and I don't like it."

You swallow hard, pushing the thought away. You can't let Mingyu get under your skin like this. "I've got this," you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

But Mark's not convinced. He's noticed the way your mind has been elsewhere, the way you've been pushing him away. The way you've been turning down his advances, lost in thought about the new kid on the block. He's been frustrated for a few weeks, trying to get you to focus on anything other than the race. 

As the days pass, the tension between you and Mark grows thicker. He tries to initiate sex, but your mind is always elsewhere, replaying the race, thinking about Mingyu's next move. You know you're hurting him, but you can't seem to stop.

 The thought of Mingyu, of the way he looked at you, of the way he talked about winning, it's like a drug. And you're hooked.

The next day, you're in the garage, wrench in hand, making some final adjustments to your bike. You've always been meticulous, but with Mingyu on your mind, you're even more so. You can't have anything going wrong on your bike when you face him again.

The door to the garage opens, and you look up, expecting it to be Mark, but instead, it's Mingyu. He struts in, his leather jacket and bike helmet hanging casually from his hand.

"Hey, Y/N," he says, a smug smile playing on his lips. "I see you're still playing with your toy."

You roll your eyes, not bothering to hide your annoyance. "What do you want?" you ask, not looking up from your work.

"Just thought I'd come by and say congrats," he says, leaning against the workbench. "You put on a good show last night."

You raced a senior from your class last night. You won despite the slippery concrete caused by the rain. Again.

You slam the wrench down, the sound echoing in the empty garage. "Thanks, but I'm not looking for your approval," you reply, your voice icy.

Mingyu laughs, a sound that grates on your nerves. "You don't have to be so defensive," he says, his eyes scanning the garage, "I just wanted to talk shop, maybe pick up some tips from the queen herself."

You stand up, wiping your hands on your greasy rag. "What makes you think I'd share anything with you?"

He shrugs, his smile never wavering. "Call it a peace offering," he says, holding out his hand. "Truce?"

You stare at his hand for a moment, weighing your options. You know you need to keep your enemies closer, especially one as talented as Mingyu. You take his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Fine," you say, "but don't get any ideas."

"Oh, I have plenty of ideas," he says, his eyes glinting with mischief, "but I'll save them for the track."

You can't help but laugh, despite yourself. He's got nerve, you'll give him that. You spend the next hour talking bikes and racing strategies, and for the first time since the race, you feel like you're not just a competitor but a fellow enthusiast. It's strange.

As Mingyu leaves, you can't help but feel a blend of emotions. There's the excitement of the challenge he represents, the thrill of the rivalry that's been ignited. But there's also a nagging doubt, a fear that maybe Mark is right. 

Maybe Mingyu isn't just a racer looking to make a name for himself. Maybe he's got something more planned, something that could threaten not just your title but your relationship. 

You shake the thought off, telling yourself you're just being paranoid. After all, it's just a race, right?

[...]

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange glow over the makeshift circuit that’s been built for tonight's race. You take a long sip of your Gatorade, savoring the cool taste as you mentally prepare yourself for the competition. The grandstand is buzzing with energy, students excitedly chattering about the upcoming event.

As you sit there, focusing on your breathing, Mingyu appears and casually sits down next to you. You chuckle, unable to help yourself. "Are you following me, kid?"

He rolls his eyes, a familiar gesture by now. "I’m not a kid."

"But I’m your senior," you counter, grinning at the way his face sours. He’s always so easy to tease. "What did you plan?"

"Huh?" He seems genuinely confused, his attention now fully on you.

You smirk, leaning back a bit. "What do you have up your sleeve, Mingyu? Some oil on the floor, a pin in my tire...?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "I don’t need tricks to beat you."

"Good," you say, your voice dropping slightly, more serious now. "Because neither do I."

Before the conversation can go any further, your boyfriend, Mark, appears. "What’s he doing here?" he asks, his tone accusatory.

"Just talking," you reply, trying to keep your cool.

"Talking, huh?" Mark scoffs. "Seems like he’s always around, doesn’t it? You’d think he’s got nothing better to do."

"I think you’re overreacting." You breath tired. 

Mark's eyes narrow. "Just remember who’s waiting for you at the finish line."

Mingyu’s jaw tightens at this, his posture stiffening. He looks like he’s holding back something, a secret or a truth he’s not ready to share.

You glance at Mingyu, noticing the shift in his conduct. "What’s that look for?" you ask him, curious despite yourself.

He shakes his head, the tension in his body evident. "Nothing. Just focus on the race."

You button your jacket, feeling the familiar weight of the leather settle around your shoulders. Checking your shoelaces, you make sure they’re tight, ready for the race ahead. The buzz of your phone breaks the moment, a single notification lighting up the screen. You glance around, noticing other students doing the same, pulling their phones from their pockets.

It’s odd, almost synchronized.

The feeling in your gut is like a rock, weighing you down, making it harder to breathe. You glance around, noticing the smirks and knowing looks from the other racers, the whispers that seem to carry on the wind. 

You click on it, and your heart sinks like a stone. It's a picture of Mark, your Mark, kissing a girl. A girl with auburn hair and a laugh that's nothing like yours. And he's wearing the shirt you gave him just this week, the one with the funny racing pun on the back. The same shirt he wore to bed last night, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

You stand there, frozen, as the world carries on around you. The cheers of the crowd, the roar of the bikes—it’s all just background noise now. You look up and see everyone watching you, their expressions a combination of pity and shock. They all know now. They've all seen it.

And as your eyes meet Mingyu's, you realize that he knows too. There's something in his gaze, a glint of satisfaction that makes your blood boil. Did he do this? Did he send this to you? The thought is like a knife twisting in your gut, but you can’t be sure.

With trembling hands, you slip the phone back into your pocket, trying to compose yourself. You don’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart. But as you button your jacket and tighten the laces of your boots, you can’t help but feel like you’re tying up the loose ends of your life. 

Everything’s changed in the span of a single message. Your heart is racing, but it’s not from the thrill of the chase anymore. It stems from the agony of disloyalty and the rage at being played for a fool.

And as you turn to face Mark, who’s pushing his way through the crowd, his eyes searching for yours, you know that the real race has only just begun.

Your breath comes in shudders as you hop on your bike, putting on your helmet. You’ve give all the signs that you are going to race tonight. The crowd is abuzz with anticipation, their eyes locked on you. 

You roll the bike's accelerator, the roar calling for attention so the race can start. The flag girl gulps, her nervousness evident, and you look over your shoulder to see Mingyu approaching.

The girl stretches the flag, and you brace yourself. The lights go out, and suddenly, you're off, the wind in your hair, the roar of the engines filling your ears. Mingyu is right beside you. You can feel the bike responding to your every move, the tires gripping the asphalt like a vice. 

Inside your helmet, your breathing is loud and ragged, a stark reminder of the adrenaline and anger coursing through you.

As you race, your thoughts race too. Mingyu planned everything. He sat by your side to watch you unravel from Mark's jealous crisis, and then those messages minutes before the race start—meant to destabilize you. It’s like a puzzle clicking into place, each piece revealing the depth of his strategy.

The bike protests but holds steady as you apply more pressure. The track is a blur, but your focus is razor-sharp. Mingyu is still there, matching your speed, but you’re not going to let him win.

You replay the moment when you first saw the message, the image of Mark kissing another girl. It stings, but it also sets you aflame. How dare he think he can break you? How dare he underestimate you? You’re not just racing against Mingyu; you’re racing against the doubts and whispers.

Mingyu pulls ahead slightly, his bike edging past yours. You grit your teeth, leaning forward to reduce drag, pushing your bike to its limits. The sound of the engines is loud, the wind whipping past you. 

You glance at Mingyu. He thinks he won, that his plan worked. But he doesn’t know you. 

You see the final stretch approaching, the finish line within sight. You dig deep, finding that last reserve of strength. You and Mingyu are neck and neck, the crowd’s cheers blending into a single roar. The world narrows to just this moment, just this race.

As you cross the finish line, you throw all your weight into one last burst of speed. You cross the line a split second before Mingyu, the crowd exploding into cheers.

You slow down, the realization of your win sinking in. You did it. Despite everything, you did it. But still, there is no taste of victory in your mouth.

The cheers fade as you lean forward, gripping the handlebars, and ride your bike away from the circuit, leaving a cloud of dust behind you. The streets blur past you, seeking an escape from everything. Your dorm or campus are the last place you want to be tonight.

After what feels like hours, you spot a cheap motel by the roadside. Its flickering neon sign is a welcome sight, a promise of anonymity, and a place to rest. You pull in, park your bike and walk to the reception. The clerk barely looks up as you hand over cash for the night. Key in hand, you head to your room.

The room is small and poorly illuminated, but it’s a refuge from the chaos of the night. You lay on the bed, the springs creaking under you, and pull out your phone. The screen is still lit with notifications, but you don’t want to see any of them. Whether it was Mingyu or someone else who shared those photos, you don’t care. Not tonight.

[...]

The weekend drags by, each minute feeling like an eternity. You don’t go to class, don’t leave your dorm except to grab food from the vending machine, because, you can’t face the pity in your friends’ eyes.

You clean obsessively, organizing your bookshelf, scrubbing the floors, folding clothes into neat piles. It’s a futile attempt to regain some semblance of order in your life. It feels like you’re erasing him from your life, one item at a time.

The notifications on your phone keep popping up, your friends and classmates checking in, asking if you’re okay. You manage to reply with short, curt responses. "Yeah," you type, "Just need some space." The lie feels heavy on your fingertips, but it’s easier than explaining the tornado of emotions inside you.

As the day stretches on, you start to feel a little more in control. You’re not going to let this beat you. You’re not going to let Mark or Mingyu ruin what you’ve built. 

So you sit there, in the quiet of your room, and you start to plan. You’re going to show up to class, to the next race, with your head held high. You’re going to leave the drama behind and focus on what you do best—race.

On Thursday, you walk into class, a box in your arms. The whispers start as soon as you enter the room, the eyes are on you like a spotlight. You find Mark’s usual seat and drop the box in front of it, the thud echoing in the stunned silence.

The box, with his things.

You don’t wait for his reaction. You don’t need to. You turn and walk out, leaving the whispers and the weight of his backstabbing behind.

At lunch, you sit with your friends, the same table you’ve shared since freshman year. They all look at you, their eyes filled with concern. "You okay?" one of them asks, tentatively.

You nod, trying to put on a brave face. "Yeah," you say, your voice stronger than you feel, "I just needed some time to sort things out."

They all nod, understanding without needing the details. They know the score, they know what happened at the race. They know about the picture, the rumors, the cheating.

"You've cried enough," your best friend says, her voice firm but gentle, "It's like that bruise on your knee from when you were seven. It hurt like hell, but it's healing now."

You manage a small smile at the memory. It’s true. You’ve shed enough tears over Mark to fill an ocean. But here you are, breathing, standing, moving forward.

"Let’s talk about something else," you say, changing the subject. "What's new with all of you?"

They exchange glances, clearly surprised by your sudden shift in tone, but they follow your lead. They talk about their classes, their weekends, their plans for spring break. You listen, really listen, letting their words wash over you like a balm to your soul.

"Oh, and apparently none of Mark’s friends want to talk to him," someone says, almost as an afterthought. "They had no idea."

"Good," you say. "He’s not worth their time either."

Your friends nod, respecting your wishes to not delve into the drama further. You don’t need their pity or their empathy. You just need them to be there, to be the rock that grounds you.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and you all stand up, collecting your trash. "Thanks, guys," you say, your voice genuine.

"For what?" one of them asks.

"For not treating me like I’m made of glass." you reply, smiling.

They laugh, you know they’re worried, but you also know they trust you to handle this. You’re the same person you were before the race. You’re strong.

The sadness has morphed into something else, anger simmers just under the surface, a slow burn that’s been building since that message. You’re not just mad at Mark, but at Mingyu too. You don’t know his role in this, but you can feel his influence, the way he’s been poking and prodding, trying to get under your skin.

And now, it’s like a game of chess, and you’re the pawn in the middle of the board. You can’t help but wonder if he’s been playing you from the start. If all those smirks and smug looks were just part of his plan to take you down.

The bell rings, and you grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. As you turn to leave, you feel a hand wrap around your arm. You turn, ready to snap, and find yourself face-to-face with Mingyu. You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Come on, don’t be grumpy. Running away from me, princess?” he says, a sulky look on his face.

You remember avoiding both Mingyu and Mark all day, doing everything to keep your distance. You start to leave, but he holds onto your arm again, making you huff in frustration.

“You should thank me, don’t you think?” he says, his tone teasing.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Mingyu smirks. “First, I let you win last Saturday,” he says, lying through his teeth. You remember how he was right on your tail during the race, clearly giving it his all.

“And I got you rid of that asshole,” he adds.

You cross your arms, glaring at him. “So, you’re admitting you orchestrated this whole thing, huh?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, I warned him it would happen.”

“He knew?” you ask, your voice rising in disbelief.

Mingyu tilts his head slightly, like he’s stating the obvious. “Of course he knew. Y/N, he was cheating on you for a whole semester. At the first freshman party I went to, I saw him with Sayla. She’s from my class.”

“What?” you nearly shout, drawing the attention of nearby students. Mingyu gives you an exasperated look, like it’s common knowledge.

You grab his arm and drag him around campus, heading for the grandstand where you can talk in private. Once there, you turn to him, your eyes blazing with anger.

“I saw the photo, and I know it’s real. But Mingyu, if you’re lying about this, I swear I will fucking kill you.”

He shakes his head, his expression serious. “Why would I lie to you? If I need to tell you something, I’ll say it to your face.”

“Tell me from the beginning,” you demand, crossing your arms.

He rolls his eyes but starts talking. “Well, it was my first party here, a freshman party. I needed to go to the bathroom, and there they were, making out.”

You make a disgusted face, which seems to amuse him. “But in the photo, they weren’t in a bathroom,” you point out.

“Yeah, it happened plenty of times. When I found out he was your boyfriend, I went to a frat party and took that photo,” Mingyu explains.

“That one?” you ask, referring to the incriminating photo.

Mingyu nods. “Yeah, that one. He saw the photo and came to have it out with me. I might have told him that if he didn’t tell you, I would, and that I would love to take care of his girlfriend.”

You scoff. “So that’s why he was so sick-jealous of me?”

Mingyu closes his eyes and nods like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You curse under your breath, feeling the weight of betrayal all over again. “This motherf—”

You stop, looking at Mingyu, who’s watching you with a confused expression. “What do you mean by ‘take care of his girlfriend’?”

Mingyu smirks. “I was interested in you. But when I found out you were dating, I backed off. When I saw your boyfriend slacking, I needed to make it clear to Mark that I was going to reach out to you somehow.”

You narrow your eyes at him, the audacity of it all making your blood boil. “So, you’ve been planning this from the start?”

“Not exactly,” Mingyu says, shrugging. “But I saw an opportunity and took it. Your boyfriend was a dick, and you deserve better.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “And you think you’re better?”

Mingyu’s is smug. “I know I am.”

“And what makes you think I’d be interested in you?” you challenge, crossing your arms.

Mingyu steps closer, his gaze intense. “You’re fierce, competitive, and you don’t take shit from anyone. You’re exactly the kind of challenge I like.”

You roll your eyes, though a small part of you is flattered? “You’re still an asshole.”

He grins. “Maybe, but at least I’m honest about it. Can’t say the same for Mark.”

You take a deep breath, trying to process everything. "Mingyu, just stay out of my way. I don’t need any more complications.”

“What can I say? I know what I want.” He shrugs before leaving, again, with that stupid smirk on his face. 

[...]

You were dragged by your friends to every party on campus, parties you didn’t even know existed, every day a new one. According to them, you needed to enjoy your new ‘single’ life. And with all the guys on campus now aware that you were single, your DMs were flooded. 

Tonight was one of those nights. Everyone saw you parking your motorcycle in front of the frat house, the rumble announcing your arrival. You danced with your friends, met new people, but your happiness didn’t last long.

You caught a glimpse of Mark and Sayla. Sayla was wearing one of his baseball jackets, his arm draped over her shoulder. Everyone stared at them, the ‘new’ couple making a fool of themselves. 

You didn’t expect Mark to be so bald-faced about it. Your blood boiled, your head felt like it was on fire, and you wanted to leave the party. But if you did, you’d look weak. So you stayed, trying to enjoy the party with your friends, but it was impossible. When Mark kissed Sayla, one eye open in your direction to gauge your reaction, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You grabbed your helmet and stormed out of the party, your friends calling after you, warning you not to do anything stupid because you were hot-headed. 

And you were, for real. 

Arriving back on campus, you pulled out your phone, fingers fumbling as you dialed a number. Your steps echoed, the dress you’d chosen for the party riding up with each step, making you pull it down in frustration.

The phone rang, and rang, until finally, a voice answered, “You calling me? Y/N, what a—”

“Where are you?” you cut him off, voice trembling with rage.

“Damn, what happened to ‘hello, how are you?’” The voice was playful, but you weren’t in the mood.

“Where. Are. You.”

“Hell, I’m at my dorm, wassup?”

“Open the door,” you demanded.

“What?”

“Open the fucking door,” you said before hanging up.

Moments later, the dorm door opened, revealing Mingyu with the phone still in his hand, wearing only black shorts that showed a peek of his white underwear. He looked confused, but when he saw you—eyes almost black with rage, in your little dress—he swore it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

“Hmm, all upset, just the way I wanted,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe.

You pushed him inside, slamming the door shut behind you and tossing your cell phone on the table. You kissed him, rough and urgent, your fingers tangling in his hair. Mingyu moaned between kisses, the realization that you were kissing him sinking in. His hands found your waist, one hand sliding up to your neck, choking you slightly, making you gasp.

A smirk played on his lips, between breaths. “About time you admitted it.”

“Shut up,” you muttered before kissing him again, harder this time.

Mingyu's grip tightened on your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re so damn hot when you’re mad,” he murmured against your lips.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” you demanded, your fingers tugging at his hair.

He obliged, kissing you with a fervor that matched your own. His hand slid down your back, gripping your ass and pulling you against him. You could feel his bulge pressing against you, a reminder of how much he wanted you. You broke the kiss, breathlessly, your eyes locking onto his.

“What’s your plan, Y/N?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

You smirked, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “To make sure I don’t think about Mark ever again.”

Mingyu’s eyes darkened with craving. “I can help with that.”

“Good,” you said, pulling him back into a kiss, your hands exploring his body, feeling the heat radiating from his skin, fingers fumbling from his big chest, to the defined lines of his abs.

Your hand slides from his lower belly to his cock, squeezing his clothed erection slightly. You feel him twitch in your hand, a broken sob leaving his lips.

“Fuck, you got hard so fast,” you murmur against his mouth.

He moans, his breath hot and heavy. “Can’t help it when it’s you.”

You grin wickedly, turning around to show him the long zipper at the back of your dress. “Help me,” you say, your voice low and inviting.

Mingyu nods, his eyes dark with desire. He bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as he catches the zipper and slides it down, his happiness akin to opening a Christmas gift. The dress falls away, and you hold your breasts in your hands, turning to face him, your fingers playing with your hardened nipples, watching his eyebrows furrow.

His hot hand covers yours, and you let him take over, feeling the heat of his touch. He pushes you toward the bed, his lips trailing kisses down your neck before biting gently, his notorious fangs grazing your sensitive skin. 

You moan, the sound going straight to his cock. His hands move desperately to your panties, fingers fumbling with the lace until they’re off your legs. He opens your legs with his hands, giving your wet folds a not-so-discreet look.

Mingyu licks his fingers, meeting your eyes before sliding them inside you. You scream at the sudden stretch, feeling his big fingers filling you. He looks at you, to see if it hurts, but then he feels you getting wetter and wetter, your pants filling the room. His hand stills, and you roll your clit against his palm.

His fingers start to slide in and out, the wet noises are sinful as he finds your g'spot. You gasp, your body arching from his bedsheets, your both hands finding his forearm, stilling his fingers curled in this position. 

Mingyu's eyes widen in surprise at your reaction, and he repeats the motion, pressing against your sweet spot again, making your eyes fill with tears. 

''R-right here! Please!" 

“Did your boyfriend never find this spot?” he asks, his voice serious.

You shake your head negatively, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. 

Mingyu's expression hardens, anger flashing in his eyes. “That asshole didn’t know how to please you,” he mutters, then his voice softens as he coos at you. 

You sob, his fingers curling repeatedly on the spongy spot. “Aw… don’t worry, my love. I’m going to make you feel so good.”

He continues to stimulate you, watching your every reaction, your pleasure nourishing his own. His fingers work you expertly, and you start to get embarrassed by how wet you are getting.

But you can't stop your hips from rubbing against his hands, you can't stop yourself from constantly moaning his name, and you can't help but wonder how you survived without feeling the pleasure Mingyu was giving you.  

Your body tenses so much, you're afraid of getting injured, and the pleasure builds, making your vision blurry, catching only Mingyu's silhouette. “Mingyu…,” you gasp, your voice shaking.

He's in love with your sensitive form. He slides his fingers out, brushing against your clit, making you moan, wanting the stimulation again, but then he munches on your pussy, making a throaty moan leave your mouth, tears wetting your cheeks. You don't even know if you're sobbing or moaning. You can only focus on his warm mouth sucking everything it can. 

Mingyu moans against you, like he's getting stimulated too, and when you manage to squeak out, “Gonna' cum,” he moans even more, the vibrations going to your clit as you arch your back, squeezing your tits. 

He opens your legs—quivering pathetically around his head—with the strength of his arms. He only stops when he feels your clit throbbing incessantly inside his mouth, all sensitive.

You don't know how long it took before you were in your mind again, but you can feel Mingyu kissing your whole body. For him, it was a maxim to calm you down, but mainly to appreciate every bit of your skin. When you open your eyes, he's kissing your hand, his thumb gently caressing it. You don't look much, or you will blush. For him, it could finish like this: you cummed, satisfied, and he gets satisfied. But then you mumble, eyes lidded, “Fuck me, please.”

His eyes almost fall from his skull. He watches your legs spread, and you slap weakly at your pussy, inviting him. Mingyu almost falls back with your tease. His hands, lowering his shorts and underwear in one go, desperate to go over you.

"Wait." 

He stills, and you smile at his obedience. You turn around, on all fours, wiggling your ass at him, and you hear a suffered moan behind you, making you scoff. 

He squeezes your ass between his hands tightly, then slaps your meat, making you hiss. Then another one, making you moan. Then another one, making you drip a line of your cum on the sheets.

Mingyu feels like a crazy creature. He pumps his veiny cock before sliding on your wet folds to spread your cum. And then slides inside. You were so tight, so tight that his blood pressure almost falls down. 

“I need to thank your boyfriend for keeping it tight.” He groans after bottoming out.

You widen your eyes at the comment, he sounded so sincere. And you laugh, your hand covering your face, and he chuckles too, seeing that he can't hold his tongue around you.

He can feel you clenching around him every time you laugh, making him moan synchronized with you. He starts to move and your laughs turn into moans, laughed-moans.

“Shit, you’re so tight, you are squeezing me,” he cries, his thrusts slow and deep.

“Didn’t think you’d be this talkative,” you manage between gasps, your body responding to every move he makes.

“Can’t help it,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. 

His pace quickens, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You grip the sheets, your back arching as he hits just the right spot. “Right there, Mingyu. Fuck, right there.”

He obeys, his thrusts becoming more precise, each one sending thrills through your body. “You feel so good,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips. “So fucking good.”

"Seriously, Mingyu," continue betwee moans, "you have no filter."

He grins, thrusting harder. "You're too much."

"Too much for you?" you tease, pushing back against him.

"Never," he mooans, his hands gripping your hips tighter. "I could do this forever."

You moan at his words, that feeling on your stomach tightening. "God, Mingyu..."

He leans over, his breath hot against your ear. "You like it when I talk, hm? When I say, how good you feel?"

You nod frantically, your mind a blur, you were cock-drunk, moaning his name like it was the only word you ever knew.

He chuckles darkly, thrusting deeper. "Good, because I’m not stopping until you can’t even say his name."

He stops his hips inside you, balls deep, and you can feel his tip kissing your cervix as he rolls his hips to make you feel it deep. Your arms quiver, making you fall with your chest on the bed, face on the sheets. You've never felt someone this deep before. Your hand reaches the bulge Mingyu makes on your belly, and you writhe.

He dirty talks, "You like to feel me here?"

You answer with a throaty moan. He closes his eyes to your rough moan and says, "Fuck, I need to see your pretty face moaning my name."

He turns you to lay on the bed again, one of your legs on his shoulder, and the other stretched by his hand. Since when were you this flexible? you think. When he slams inside you again, your messy cunt clings to him for dear life.

You moan all sly, and Mingyu is inches from your face now, and he teases you, "Look who's all sensitive right now. Where's that grumpy girl from the race? Hm? You just needed a good cock fucking you right to get you relaxed? Right, babe?"

You want to clap a hand on his mouth to keep his cocky talk out of it, but your pussy betrays you, clenching around him the moment his dirty words start to fall from his lips. Instead, you give some wet kisses on his lips. He reciprocates every one of them.

You ask him to touch you, and he looks in your eyes, asking, "Where?"

You guide one of his hands to your clit. He collects some of the lubrication that formed a ring at the base of his cock and starts to massage the swollen bud, circling it. Your nails scratch his back, and he hisses, eyes closing. He ruts desperately into you, your pussy casting a spell on him, all wet and good for him. 

You glance around the space, the warm illuminated lamp, the scent of his cologne everywhere, his tanned body sweating to give you pleasure, his muscles clenching as he holds you, his hand on your clit, his cock filling you, his eyes focused on every one of your expressions, his moans every time you clench.

You prepare for every detail when your eyes suddenly blur. You feel it coming... fuck. You're cumming, but something else is coming too. 

The realization hits you, and you say, "No, no, no, shit!"

You hold his bicep, your head thrown back, the veins on your neck popping. You try to stop, but you can't. You squirt all over him and his bed.

Mingyu stops inside you, mouth open. Now he gets desperate, taking his cock from you and cumming on your belly, so far that it hits your tits too. He lets your legs rest on the bed, and you cover your mouth.

"M-Mingyu, your bed! I'm sorry, let me put this to wash and—" You start to get up, feeling a rush of embarrassment and responsibility for the mess.

Mingyu, still catching his breath, quickly moves to stop you, his hand firm but gentle on your shoulder. He gives you a little push, making you lay back on the bed again. "Hey, relax," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's just a bed. We can clean it up later."

You look at him, your cheeks flushed. "But it's such a mess," you protest weakly.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I like it messy," he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "Besides, I think I like you better like this."

"But seriously, Mingyu, your bed—"

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips capturing yours in a tender, lingering embrace. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. "The bed can wait," he murmurs. "Right now, I want to focus on you."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice making your pulse quicken. "Mingyu," you whisper, feeling the heat rise in your body again.

He tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing gently over your lower lip. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says softly. "Especially when you're all flustered and breathless like this."

Mingyu's eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Then why don't we make a little more mess before we clean up?" he suggests, his voice a seductive whisper.

[...]

Your ex's message lights up your cellphone on the table beside the bed: "Where are you?" Mark asks. You can't help but scoff at the audacity. The nerve of him to ask after everything he's done. A surge of defiance washes over you, fueled by the memory of him flaunting Sayla around like some trophy.

Mingyu's rhythm doesn't falter as he thrusts into you from behind, his hand gripping your hair, pulling just enough to make you feel the pain on your scalp, but loving the pleasure that comes with it too. You reach for your phone, you know exactly how to answer Mark's question.

With a quick swipe, you open the camera, positioning it just right. The screen captures the sinful scene—Mingyu's defined body behind you, your flushed shoulder peeking into view, and your hair being pulled by Mingyu. 

You snap the photo and attach it to the message as a single view photo. 

Letting the image speak for itself.

"Here's your answer," you mutter under your breath, hitting send.

Mingyu's grip tightens, his pace quickening as he senses the shift in your mood. "What did you just do?" he asks, laughing.

You turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, a wicked smile playing on your lips. "Just answered a question," you reply, your voice breathless.

Mingyu's eyes darken with approval. "Good girl," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck, his thrusts growing more forceful. "Let's give him something to really be jealous about."

The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mingling with the chorus of moans and gasps that fill the room. As Mingyu's hand slips down to tease your clit, your phone buzzes again, another message from Mark. 

But you don't bother to check it. 

[hairmetal666]

The worst thing that ever happened to Eddie Munson is a spinning studio opening in the building next to the neighborhood store he runs with his uncle.

"That's the third one today," Eddie whines as soon as the door snicks shut behind a woman with a glossy high ponytail and electric pink polka dot Lululemon sports bra and bicycle short set.

"You see her ponytail?" Nancy asks. She's flipping through a stack of flashcards. "Never seen a twenty-five year old look fresh off a facelift."

"I hate them so much. What kind of job is 'cycling instructor' anyway?"

"I'm concerned about the amount of makeup they wear to workout. That's gotta be bad for the pores."

"I'm concerned about the collective IQ holding that operation together. Like, do they know how to get out if there's a fire alarm?"

Nancy shoves him, but snickers too. It's not like he really has anything against the instructors. They're fine. Polite and usually harmless. It's the principle of it. It's not fair, that they get to continue into an adulthood that's still all about them being pretty and popular, without any substance.

"You've done college bio," he says. He notices a couple of cereal boxes have fallen over, hops off the counter to push them back in place. "What are the chances their muscles are so big it's cutting off the blood flow to their brains? Is that a thing that can happen?"

There's no response from the front of the store, which isn't unusual. Mostly, she lets him talk and chimes in when the mood strikes. Since she seems uninterested in offering her input, he straightens the cereal and keeps gabbing.

"The other day, one of the guys came in, and his shorts were so tight, I could see his balls. Not just the outline, but the wrinkles. I could almost make out individual pubes. Is that one of those things where they pretend they're limiting drag, or whatever, to improve their speed? Even though it's a stationary bike--"

He turns, the shelves straightened, and literally only three feet from him is one of the aforementioned cycling instructors. Unfortunately, he's the most beautiful man Eddie has ever seen. Even more unfortunately, he definitely heard Eddie making fun of them.

"Uhh," Eddie says.

The guy smiles. "Sorry, my giant muscles make it hard to get around sometimes."

And Eddie just. Like. What the fuck. "That must make it difficult to cycle." God, god but this guy is so fucking, devastatingly hot and all Eddie has done is antagonize him. And not even intentionally!

"I get by," he smiles and Eddie almost swoons. "Hey, when I bend down, can you let me know about the ball sitch? I have a wholesome image to maintain."

Is he flirting? It seems like he's flirting? But that's weird, right? He caught Eddie talking shit, why would he--

"It would be my pleasure to look at your balls," his mouth says before his brain can catch up.

The guy snorts, smile getting bigger. "I don't know, now I might be self-conscious. Might have a wayward pube."

"How will you know if someone doesn't take a look?"

The guy steps closer, cocks his head to the side. He's got this impressive sweep of hair that barely tumbles, his throat dotted with cute little moles and freckles. Eddie's mouth is watering, why is his mouth watering? "I usually get to know someone a little bit better before they get that privilege."

For once, he's speechless and now he's blushing, can feel it up to his ears and down to his nipples.

The guy leans even closer, breath ghosting against Eddie's skin. "Too bad you hate exercise instructors."

This social interaction has already been a disaster, but he makes it even worse by responding with an indignant squeak.

The guy winks, can't hide his genuine amusement at Eddie's expense. "You ever want to make it up to me, you can come to one of my classes."

With that, he walks up to Nancy at the counter, and Eddie gets his first look at the single most glorious ass he's ever seen. His mouth literally drops open as he watches how it jiggles, perfect and round, and he wonders if it would be too much to fall to his knees and worship it right then and there.

Eddie's dumbstruck for a little too long, almost misses as the cycling instructor heads for the door. "How can I take your class if I don't know your name?" He shouts.

The instructor half turns, the sexiest, smuggest smile on his pretty face. "It's Steve!" He yells back.

"I'm Eddie!"

"I know!"

The door closes and he turns to Nancy. "How--how did he know my name?"

Nancy rolls her eyes, goes back to her flashcards. "You're wearing a name tag, you absolute dork."

Eddie knows he's a man of weak will. Is not completely surprised when, after a month of meanly flirtatious interactions, Steve leans across the counter to taunt, "you do one cycling class with me and I'll take you out to dinner."

He's fresh from a workout, hair still damp and messy from the shower. Eddie thinks he's about to lose his mind, desire a clawing beast gnawing on his bones.

"Oh, so I might finally get the opportunity to check out your balls?"

Steve's cheeks go very pink, and something tight and hot tugs in Eddie's abdomen. "If you play your cards right."

[mindmelter]

Riding The Rider

Hawk had always been a man who loved the open road. Today was no different. He had just picked up a new helmet—sleek, white, and impossibly high-tech.

Earlier that day, he went to buy a new helmet when he saw a beautiful white one called Helmetai. The helmet cost a fortune, so he wasn't going to buy it, but the owner of the store insisted that he should take it; when Hawk explained he didn't have the money, he then gave him one for free.

“Consider it a gift. A biker like you deserves the best helmet!" The owner said. Hawk found it weird, but he wasn't one to refuse such an expensive gift.

The helmet boasted top-tier features: enhanced vision, noise-canceling technology, and an integrated heads-up display. He didn’t bother reading all the technical specs—it was just a helmet, after all. But as he slid it over his head, it fit snugly, almost like it was made for him. The visor suddenly flickered to life with a soft hum.

"Welcome aboard, Hawk. Prepare for the ultimate ride." The helmet said in a robotic voice.

"Oh, nice, I didn't know it could do that. Helmetai, play my favorite playlist!"

Suddenly, 'Highway To Hell' started blasting in Hawk's ears as he revved up his bike and took off down the highway. The wind rushing against his muscles and the adrenaline pumping through his veins was Hawk's addiction. As he weaved between cars, pushing the speed limit, something strange began to happen.

He started feeling a small electric flow in his head. He shook it off, thinking it was just the adrenaline—or maybe the helmet was messing with his senses. After all, this was his first time using such high-tech gear. But suddenly the world around him faded, and he felt a disorienting pull as if he was being yanked from his own body. And just like that, everything went black.

One second later, Hawk's body came back to life.

"Transfer Complete, please don't remove the helmet until your ride is finished. Enjoy your time in Hawk's body." The helmet said.

“Oh, I plan on enjoying every second of this ride. Let’s see what this body can really do.” Hawk said. With a swift twist of the throttle, the bike shot forward, rocketing down the highway at full velocity, way past the velocity limit.

This helmet wasn’t just any helmet. Unknown to Hawk, it was part of a secret possession industry designed for the elite. Wealthy men who longed for excitement and adventure would rent out bodies, usually those of fit, and unsuspecting strong men, to live their fantasies. The technology behind it was the most advanced—microchips embedded into the helmets that synced with the brainwaves of the wearer, overriding their control and allowing someone else to slip into the driver's seat.

It was a perfect way for rich men to have a moment of pure adrenaline without worrying about getting hurt or dying in a crash; the helmet was programmed to shut down as soon as an accident happened or if they were pulled over by the police.

"Oooh, fuck yeah, now that’s a body!" Hawk shouted, flexing his thick biceps.

A huge tent started forming in his pants as he tested out his new muscles.

"Look at me! No fucking hands! YOOOOHOOOO!!!!'

Soon, he started hearing the sounds of the police sirens behind him.

"Alert! The police are after you. Do you wish to continue the ride?" The helmet asked.

"Yes I do! I paid for the full experience!" Hawk laughed sterically as he took off at full velocity, trying to escape the police.

Far away, in another state, a middle-aged, overweight man sat in front of his computer in his luxurious dark room, on his head was also a Helmetai.

[dreamwatch]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt: Pride | Word Count: 1031 | Rating: M | CW: Alcohol/drug abuse, driving under the influence, car accident | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth Stranger Things, past Steddie, Eddie is a very bad boy, possibly downright unlikeable, ambiguous ending

“Eddie, don’t.”

“Come on, man.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Eddie!”

He’s not listening, not tonight. Tonight he has a calling from on high. Tonight he has places to be, a person to see. A person to touch.

Tonight he’s driving

He climbs into the car, his beautiful Ferrari bought with the spoils of fame. There are three cars in his garage, but this is the fastest. This is the one he wants to be in tonight. It’s a racer, meant for speed, a rocket ship of possibilities. 

There are voices behind him, the band arguing amongst themselves. Maybe they’re shouting at him, but he’s not listening. He’s only had a two or three vodkas, and coke doesn’t have the same effect on him as it used to, back when he was a kid and all this was new to them. The pills were nothing, just something to keep him awake, something to chill him out. But he’s older now and those things aren’t new anymore. Booze and drugs are supplements, part of the regime, part of his five a day. It’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything.

It’s Gareth that follows him, climbing in beside him a second before Eddie turns the key in the ignition and the car roars to life.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing, man? Come back inside.”

“Get out.”

“I’m not—”

“Get out!”

Gareth buckles his seat belt tight and glares at him.

“Fine,” Eddie spits at him. “Fuck you then.”

He revs the engine repeatedly, the vibration like electricity through his body. It only goads him on. He slams his foot to the pedal and the car streaks out of his garage and onto the streets.

The city is magical at night, blinding lights, a stratospheric glimmer of colour. He knows if he was walking out on the road it would be quiet, there’d be no sound, just the occasional car speeding past on the empty streets, just like he is now. There’s music in the car, a blasting thump of drums and bass and he feels his foot drop on the accelerator; he doesn’t look at the speedometer because he doesn’t care. Part of him wishes he’d taken the bike, his black Yamaha that barely gets ridden anymore, then Gareth would still be back at the house with Jeff and Matt and their girlfriends, and not with him shouting for him to slow down. 

“—wait till tomorrow. Nothing will have changed. Let’s just go back, you can talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

Eddie doesn’t like to be ignored, doesn’t like his calls going unanswered. So no, actually, it won’t wait. He wants him tonight. Deserves to have Steve tonight.

“Eddie, slow down.”

“No.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie! It’s red!”

It’s a challenge, him against the stop light, him against the cross traffic. The road is empty, he knows it will be fine, Gareth just worries too much. He always has. Cocky until he’s not, that’s Gareth. If nothing else it will be a good lesson for him. Eddie didn’t want him here so he can consider this his punishment. 

Eddie floors the gas pedal, the engine butter smooth as it gives him the speed he wants, and he howls out of the open window as he flies through the stop light, laughing into the hot summer night.

Gareth is heaving in deep breaths beside him and it only makes him laugh more, he can barely hear himself over the sound of the engine and the music. 

The Ferrari speeds over the freeway and he feels like he’s flying. He feels like he’s free, and when the fuck was the last time he felt like that? His face is everywhere, his every second accounted for, every moment of his life planned. Stand here, wear this, do what we tell you, say what we tell you. He just needs a moment to fly.

Gareth is on the phone, but the engine noise and music drown out whatever he’s saying. Eddie doesn’t really care. He can call Jeff, he can call Wayne, fuck, call the cops for all he cares. What are they going to do? He’s Eddie fucking Munson.

He lifts his foot of the gas just a little, just enough so that when he floors it again he can feel it. It’s like warp speed, he’s Han Solo and Gareth is Chewbacca and the laughter fires through him again, the utter absurdity of it all. He loves his life.

He hates everything.

When he checks on Gareth he looks like he’s going to be sick, and there’s no fucking way he’s going to be sick in his Ferrari, so he lays off the gas. Gareth hangs his head out of his own window, the wind blowing his hair back. It’s warm out tonight, it just makes everything headier. Makes his need feel deeper.

He needs Steve. It’s in his head now, can’t sleep, can’t sleep, can’t sleep, can’t be without Steve. That there, that’s the heart of it, he doesn’t know how to be without him. Can’t get his head around him leaving, can’t comprehend why he’d walk out on this. They had everything, Eddie gave him everything, and he threw it back at him. Like, how fucking dare he work, go out on the road, make money for them? They were fine, they had a system, it worked for him, it worked for Steve, he’d have said if didn’t. It was Robin getting in Steve’s head again, telling him this wasn’t normal, ‘it’s not a relationship if you’re never together, Steve’, and when did she become such a meddling cunt? 

He drops his foot on the accelerator.

It’s not instant. The streaks of light are lining the road, leading him to heaven, and then it’s the light polluted sky he sees, the distant glimmer of weak stars filling the windscreen. He thinks Gareth is screaming beside him, but Eddie’s not scared. He feels like he’s floating, feels the hot night air whip around him, feels the dizzying spin of the car, his own fairground ride in the sky. The strips of white lining the asphalt rise up to meet him. 

He never feels the hit.

Yes it's essentially Blinding Lights by The Weeknd, but this prompt was fighting me so hard and I've spent days trying to make another story work and it just wasn't. Then this came on, and yes I may have looped it for half an hour while I wrote, but I competed the prompt!

@the-unforgivenn

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Rolling Stone:

EARLIER THIS WEEK, the Copernicus Climate Change Service, a European Union-funded research group, announced that last Sunday, July 21, 2024, the daily global average temperature hit 62.76 degrees. It was the hottest day scientists have measured since 1940 — which officially makes it the hottest day ever recorded on Earth by humans. Twenty four hours later, however, Copernicus had to update its report: On Monday, the temperature climbed up to 62.87 degrees. As of now, July 22, 2024 is now the hottest day ever recorded. 

But hey, it’s only Friday. Who knows what the weekend holds? Or the rest of the summer, for that matter.

Are you shocked by news of this record-breaking heat? Does the fact that you lived through two of the hottest days on Earth that scientists have ever recorded make you think differently about the risks and consequences of living on a rapidly-warming planet? Did you pause for a moment and think about the millions of people who sweat through this without air conditioning? Did you mourn the 396 deaths from heat that are under investigation this summer in Phoenix? Did you sell your car and buy an electric bike? Were you inspired to sign up to knock on doors to help Kamala Harris defeat the climate-hoax-pushing-criminal Donald Trump? Are you getting calls from your MAGA-loving uncle in Idaho apologizing for the long lecture he gave you at Thanksgiving last year about how Earth’s temperature moves in natural cycles, or about how higher levels of CO2 in the atmosphere is good because more CO2 makes crops and trees grow better?

Probably not.

The problem is not you. The problem is that a broken heat record is just another statistic. The story of the climate crisis is written in broken records that measure levels of CO2 pollution, glacial ice melt, rising sea levels, crop failure, megafires, the spread of diseases, heat deaths, wildfire and insurance costs, and economic losses. But if shocking data and broken records could galvanize people to take action on climate, we’d all be powering our iPhones with solar power from microgrids, and millions of cows and chickens would be liberated from factory farms. We’d have cities crowded with bike lanes and a high speed rail service between Dallas and Houston. We’d laugh at climate-hoaxing politicians and debate whether it is fair and just to charge Big Oil companies with criminally negligent homicide.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Motorcycles, scooters and other mopeds that do not meet federal safety standards are now banned in Quebec, the province's auto insurance board announced Tuesday. These increasingly popular, often electrically powered vehicles can be seen zipping down bike paths, roads and sidewalks, but they are non-compliant with Canada Motor Vehicle Safety Standards (CMVSS). "These vehicles pose a safety risk to vulnerable users of sidewalks and bike paths due to their high weight and the speeds they can reach," the Société de l'assurance automobile du Québec (SAAQ) says in a news release. Also, the SAAQ adds, it's a matter of fairness to the owners of compliant motorcycles and mopeds who must register their vehicles and hold the correct class of driver's licence to drive them on the road network.

Continue Reading

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland

[emeraldhaven]

Celebrating You and Only You

V hated birthdays.

Another tick of the clock towards inevitability, a step towards the end of a life she loved so very much. She didn't hate them purely because of this of course - she also didn't like the expectations that came on a day like today. Gifts, parties, celebrations of her life which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn't all that important. She'd much rather head out on her bike, drive by some Tyger Claws or Maelstrom and fry their brains to a crisp using her cyberdeck than have to accept gifts from her friends that, bless their souls, would be trying to make this year a "year to remember".

"Jesus V - could you be any more depressin'? Cheer up, live a little!" Johnny whined, appearing on the sidewalk beside V. He was looking wistfully over the Watson community centre, leaning on the handrail exactly the same as she was.

"C'mon Johnny, you've been trawling through my memories, you know why I don't like today." V said, looking over to see whatever Johnny was also looking at. She didn't really see anything other than a few people drunk or high stumbling along the sidewalk. She breathed in deeply, held it and closed her eyes, the stale Night City air burning her lungs, then dropping her shoulders and breathing out slowly, her hand gripping tightly onto the railing.

Johnny shook his head and scoffed, pushing off of the railing and crossing his arms.

"Hey, I'm not sayin' you need to like today, just at least visit the people who care about you most. Quit bein' a little shit and make people feel like you appreciate their efforts."

V sighed. She really didn't want to go and see anybody today, but maybe Johnny was right - maybe she ought to go see some of her friends? Taking out her phone, she opened up the contacts menu and scrolled down, tapping on So Mi.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang, and rang.

"Huh. Why isn't So Mi picking up?" V wondered. It's quite unlike her little Songbird to not pick up the phone when she called, given everything that happened between the two. Granted, she'd just come back from her little trip up to Tycho, and any kind of operation is going to be taxing on somebody - maybe she wasn't feeling up to chatting?

V tried to contact her other friends: Kerry went straight to voicemail; Judy was on do-not-disturb; Panam was "out of cell range" - whatever that meant; River was "at work". Tapping her phone against her chin, V hummed out loud some familiar tune that was stuck in her head whilst she thought why every single person she could possibly want to hang out with was suddenly completely unavailable.

She hears a ping from her cellphone - it's a photo from So Mi and it's of the front door to her apartment. The caption reads:

"Come home."

V's heartrate shoots up - what does she mean, come home? Songbird has no idea where her apartment is, she'd never gone there during the whole Dogtown event, instead staying at the various safehouses that Reed and Alex had set up. It was a worrying thing for So Mi to know both where she lived and that she was there - it wasn't a particularly safe megabuilding.

Hopping on her Kusanagi, she turned the key and kicked off the pavement, pulling the throttle hard and speeding off to her home. After some incredibly reckless driving (Judy calls it "literally asking for trouble"), she arrives in quite possibly the shortest amount of time it's ever taken for her to drive across Night City. V practically jumps up the entire flight of stairs in front of her block, somehow leaping up 4 stairs at a time to reach the elevator, barely even registering the small red-electrical glitch on the TV screens, and once it arrives at the top sprints towards her apartment door and opens it.

The first thing V notices is that it's too quiet. Taking a quick scan around her apartment with her eyes, she can't see anyone and even her Kiroshi's aren't registering anything out of the ordinary. It takes one, two, three steps into her home before anything happens. A red glitch takes over her vision; quite similar to how the Relic would give her trouble, but she feels completely fine; until it all starts to clear and…

"SURPRISE!!" A loud cacophony of voices and cheers and party horns and poppers go off, showering her in a sea of noise, warmth and a shocking amount of confetti. V blinks away the odd bit of static to see all of her friends standing before her: Panam, Mitch, Judy, Rita, River, Kerry, Misty, Reed, Alex, Jackie, Viktor, Takemura and right in the middle as though she was illuminated by the stars themselves, So Mi holding a cake with the cutest little artistic (and quite edible) depiction of V at work, Mantis Blades in hand.

"Guys, you didn't have to do all this!" V exclaimed, shocked that they could have even set up something as elaborate as this without her really knowing.

"V, choom, we wouldn't have had it any other way." Jackie said softly, walking over and placing a hand around her shoulders. "Now kick back, relax and grab a cold one - it's time for celebrating you, and only you, today. None of this back and forth shit."

V looked up at Jackie and back towards her friends, her eyes starting to well up from all the emotions. She started to see all the little details - the cake, the small pieces of ribbon around the apartment, the bunting celebrating her 24th birthday, and all her friends dressed up and here for her. It wasn't something she was used to, but it was definitely something she could grow to enjoy.

As the party started, Jackie left V to go talk to Viktor and Takemura about some boxing thing that V didn't really know a whole lot about. She walked over and sat down next to So Mi, dressed in an immaculate jacket and jean combo that was quite similar to what her Relic-form had actually looked like. She was stunning, truly a beautiful woman in her own right, but since she got back from Luna she had this sparkle in her eyes that made V's heart flutter.

"Hey V - didn't see this one coming did you?" Songbird smirked, her soft lips accented in a beautifully red lipstick. V felt almost unable to take her eyes off of them, flicking down between her two newest vices: Songbird's eyes and lips.

"Uh, um, n-no no I didn't actually. How long have you known?" V stuttered.

"Ha! Well, it was a combination of everyone really. I got back from Tycho and, well, I got contacted by Panam - something about you not really having a lot of time celebrating your birthday in the past?" So Mi took a sip from her drink, lips wrapped around the straw in her cup.

"Ah I shouldn't have gotten drunk and chatted life with Panam - didn't realise that I'd have left something like that slip." V chuckled. "What was your little part to play in all this, Song?"

"The whole fact you couldn't see anything - hooked into the Relic and altered your visualware for the whole effect. Might have spruced other things up, as well, but y'know that's just for personal fun." Song couldn't have looked any more smug, nor more beautiful given that it seemed like, to V at least, that she was literally glowing.

"You're beautiful." V muttered, completely unaware that she'd said that out loud.

Songbird blushed a deep red. "Thanks V, that means a lot coming from you." She started to play with the top of the typical red cup she was holding.

V's eyes widened and her own scarlet blush creeped across her face, the tips of her eyes going ever so slightly pink. Taking a swig of her drink, she placed her hand on top of So Mi's, their pinkies ever so slightly hooking onto the other's.

"No, thank you Song - for all of this. I really, really appreciate you being here, and I'd want nothing else." V smiled softly at So Mi, flicking down to her lips again. She suddenly got quite aware of how close they were actually sitting on the couch.

"V… I-"

"Hey V! Come check out this sweet new gear that Judy's got!" Panam called over, rushing to grab V's arm and pull her away from Songbird. V looked back guiltily at Song, mouthing out "I'm sorry, talk later!" towards the redhead who smiled back and nodded in return.

The party would continue into the late night, and one-by-one people said their farewells and see-you-laters until everyone had left except for Jackie and Songbird.

"Alright V, I'd best be off - got a cute date with Misty in the morning, and I don't wanna miss it." Jackie said, slapping his legs and standing up. V walked him over to the door and hugged him.

"Thanks Jack - I had a preem time today." V said, choking on the last few words and giving Jackie another hug before he left.

"And then there were two." Songbird chuckled, lounging back on the couch, heels off and feet up on the couch, arms outstretched over the couch's spine.

"Well it was one at some point right, back when you were just a cute ghost in my head?" V chuckled, the room slightly swaying. V stumbles over and flops down onto the couch, falling right into the space between So Mi's side and her outstretched arm. V's back is suddenly warm, the machinery within So Mi's body heating up as the alcohol within their systems work independently, but seemingly together.

So Mi wraps her arm around V's chest, slowly stroking her abdomen, fingers raising and dropping at the curves of her abs. "Mmm - only a cute ghost? I seem to remember a certain someone thinking quite a lot about other things that involve the 'cute ghost in her head'." So Mi giggled, squeezing softly.

"Would be a gonk ass move to think too much nowadays though; pretty sure I was getting quite visceral feedback myself." V looked up at So Mi, gazing back into those captivating eyes. "Couldn't help it, Song, you had me when you invited back to that bench."

So Mi hummed, a multitude of thoughts, feelings and pure emotions coursing through her head. As her heartbeat ramped up, the whirring in the motors in her spine lowly increased, and V noticed.

"Not gettin' too mushy on me, are ya' Song?" V giggled back, placing her own hand on Songbird's, the dark glow of both her apartment and Night City from her window illuminating the two.

Songbird shook her head and then slowly, softly and with the most care anyone has ever given to V, leant down and kissed the top of her head. Burying her nose in the plushness of V's soft, delicate stained-red hair, she exhaled in complete comfort.

"No V, I'm just as mushy and as happy as I want to be right here, right now, with you. Spending as much time as I can while we still have it to spend in whatever ways we want. Happy birthday, V." Songbird murmured, closing her eyes.

Taking a minute, V calmed her screaming heart and said quietly: "It's, um, it's Valerie. My real name is Valerie."

"Then happy birthday Valerie - you deserve it." Songbird affirmed.

V hummed happily, sleepily planting an ever softer kiss on So Mi's hand, entwining their fingers and drifting off, her eyelids fluttering closed as the comforting embrace of Songbird enveloped her in her wings.

Maybe V didn't hate birthdays after all.

[therandomfandomme]

Biking is accessible movement

Biking is a very accessible mode of transportation and way to exercise, however I think a lot of people don't know that, since there are a lot of countries, who don't have the right infrastructure (which is sad). So, this post is me showing y'all how biking is very accessible.

I am writing this from the perspective of someone with mild chronic pain, so I don't know the ins and outs, I have just seen all these bikes around on the streets, because here in the Netherlands they are very prevelant. I do want to say that biking is far easier on my joints than walking, except the knees, even with my unmodified bike.

An accessability feature that is not the bike itself, but often seen in traffic are the signs for hard of hearing people, which can be attached to the back of the bike to let others know that the person won't respond to audible traffic cues and to be careful.

1. Not having the muscle mass or lung capacity for intense exercise

Electrical bikes used to be mostly associated with senior citizens, however in recent years it has become more popular with high schoolers, who have to bike long distances to school or adults, who don't want to arrive sweaty at work. They can either assist you or do the biking for you. Normal electric bikes can go up to 30 km/h, but the recently popular fatbike can go up to 60 km/h (which is a hazard and should be regulated, but I digress). Every bike type that follows after can be an eletric bike.

2. Needing back support

Of course not everyone can sit on a bike, whose seating gives no support and for those there are lying bikes. Though being able to get up and down from a pretty low seat, which is less.

3. Not having the balance for biking

One big thing with bikes is balancing, which is something I struggle with (shout out to physical therapy for helping with that). Once I'm on the bike it is easier for me, but I struggled a lot with getting on and off the bike for a while as well as balancing in general, so I had training wheels for a lot longer than most of my peers.

Luckily, there are a lot of options for people who have bad balance or for whom getting on and off a bike would be more of a struggle. A fatbike already makes for easier balance, however for more aid you have tricycles for adults, which are pretty common. And an extra wheel can also be put on a lying bike.

4. Mental disabilities that limit safe independence in traffic

Not everyone can be in traffic unsupervised due to mental disabilities or brain damage, so not everyone can bike on their own. However, there are many ways to bike while having someone there for safety.

A tandem might seem like a gimmick to some, but it can allow someone to bike without needing to take into account all the moving traffic. And the dubble bike, which is more often used as a fun thing for tourist to explore a city while being able to chat, can provide the same for those with bad balance. If the person in question is smaller than the person supervising, such as a child or little person, than there is also a bike attachment for any bike with a luggage carrier.

5. Using a mobility aid

A lot of people think that you can't bike when using a mobility aid, however biking is not the same as walking, so should your body allow it, biking is possible.

If a person uses a cane or crutches there are ways to hold them in place. A walker can also be attached to the back if it is foldable. If a person is in a wheelchair (depending on what kind) then a hand bike is an option, which allows for higher speeds than moving regularly, while not taking more energy. A person with a wheelchair can also be transported with a bike, if they are not able to move through traffic independently (i have been informed that this is for kids, so thank you for that addition).

6. Lifestyle makes it more difficult to bike

Some people can ride a bike, but aren't able of biking, because they have kids, pets or need to move more stuff. However, there are ways to still use a bike in those circumstances. Popular among people in busy cities with more than one kid is a cargo bike. A cargo bike is also avaible with three wheels for extra balance and both can be electric. For pet owners the trailer is more popular, since a pet cannot jump out of it, though I've also seen plenty of babies and toddlers in them. Both these options can naturally also hold stuff.

Of course I totally understand that not everyone is able to bike and that not everywhere there is the infrastructure necessary. I am just passionate about it and I think that a lot of people might not realize that biking can be more accessible than it is often portrayed. I might have missed something, so feel free to add if you find anything and I would love to hear thoughts or just reactions :D

[deleted-files]

Here we have Iota Squad all together and ready for action. One of hero factories many search and rescue teams. Though, this team in particular is usually assigned to more hazardous conditions than usual. They're more than capable than handling themselves alone but when together, as with all teams, they can achieve great things. Listing them off from left to right (In the group photo):

Heinrich Phase: A brash and boastful rookie always looking to prove himself to his team's lead, Pixie. He feels that the Hero Factory could be doing more with it's influence and power. Heinrich made a name for himself while using the experimental short range phase generator mounted on his upper back. This device allows him to "teleport" or blink a short distance, leaving an after image in his path. Depending on the mission at hand you'll either see him with his High Frequency Dual Claws, able to cut through even the densest of metals and rock. They come quite in handy for clearing debris and clearing paths to rescue targets or ripping the armor off of foes. Or his Dual Concussive Photon Repeaters, usually mounted on the side of a Mach Bike, he took the opportunity from a wrecked one to see if he could put them to use himself. They have a lot of kick… unsurprisingly.

Gretchen Ranger: An overprotective, unyielding, near-unstoppable force of a hero. Not afraid to speak her mind, she tends to butt heads with the team lead at times. Even so, they're the closest of the four. Despite her predisposition, she willingly chose the role of tracker of the team. Ranger's armor and equipment are reminiscent of a badger. She comes equipped with similar strength augmenting tech implanted in Duncan Bulk with optimized actuators in her hands for more grip strength, allowing her to crush even stone in her claws. She can scale sheer vertical surfaces with ease as well. Her tool of choice is a modified version of the M.D.S.B (Mega Decibel Sound Blaster). Referred to as, lovingly, the "Search Light". Instead of sending out masses of explosive sound, it acts as an advance echo-locator. Though, the output can be turned up higher for sustained and devastating firepower should the need arise.

Clara Pixie: Team lead, voice of reason, and a great shot. Pixie, despite being the shortest in the team, is the most capable fighter out of all of them. She traded in the standard plasma gun issued to all heroes for a condensed combustion hand cannon. The design of the handgun is very much "lightning trapped in a bottle". However, that is a topic for another time. Pixie while not leading the team, is often participating in Hero Factory's rehabilitation program. In which a select few potential ex-villains are given a second chance. In the form of being assigned to a city and being charged with protecting and helping the inhabitants in anyway they can. Of course, under the close supervision of an assigned handler. Pixie, being part of this program, has been assigned with being Corroder's handler. The two have grown quite close as time passed. Even bringing him along on missions with the rest of the squad every now and again. The two would be near inseparable if it weren't for responsibilities that need most of their attention.

Andrew "Andy" Bolt": Quiet, patient, disciplined, Andrew Bolt is one of the best scouts Hero Factory has had in years. It's rumored that he could've been on the fabled H.R.T (Hero Recon Team) at one point or another. His actions, speak much louder than words in most cases. Not much is really known fully about him aside from him being a veteran hero and his blinding speed. He is equipped with an energy condenser mounted to his quaza core that passively absorbs any ambient electricity in the air. Giving him a constant flow of energy to power his tools/weapons. Speaking of, Bolt's equipped with Dual Stun blasters that have an extended function, when drawing directly from his energy condenser, to create nets of energy capable of neutralizing weapons and powers similar to the hero cuffs used during the breakout event. His pride and joy comes in the form of the Mach Saber. in it's normal state it functions just like any other sword made by hero factory. But, when drawing power directly from his energy condenser, it's high frequency function activates, allowing him to cut through even the strongest alloys. Bolt is also capable of diverting extra power to his legs for short bursts of speed or a constant, blinding sprint. Doing so charges the condenser further. If not released he could overheat himself. After long sprints Bolt requires venting almost immediately.

This was a really long one but, I really needed to get this one done since I've been sitting on the idea of this team for a while now. I figured now would be as good as any since it is Hero February and all. Hope you like them as much as I do. Enjoy!

[lazyvase]

TMNT LEGENDS: Class Fit Ranking 2

There are five classes in TMNT LEGENDS: cunning, might, tech, spirit, and swift. These classifications are largely inconsequential, for they don’t affect stats and abilities. All they determine is how much damage you do to an enemy, and how much damage an enemy does to you.

As such, I can rate the matchup between a character and a class purely superficially. All I need to consider is the character and the connotations of the word. We may also consider the characters they are weak and strong against (class wise) if need be.

The matches will be graded 1 through 5. 1 meaning that they should’ve been a different class. 5 meaning that they must be this class.

Today we go over:

TECH

Donatello: 5/5. Gee. I wonder if the class based specifically on this character will be the perfect fit.

Newtralizer: 5/5. With an assortment of gadgets and high-tech weaponry, Newtralizer easily fits into the Tech class.

Casey Jones: 4/5. While one could easily make a case for Casey Jones being in the might class due to his headstrong nature, Casey surprisingly fits better in the tech class. Time and time again, Casey had shown his ingenuity. Whether through simple things such as hockeypucks with dynamite taped on, or complex creations like his electric glove, Casey has proven himself to be quite crafty. Not to mention his jack-of all-trades bike shown in "The Deadly Venom" and the car he and Donnie supercharged together to race the Speed Demon.

Baxter Stockman: 5/5. The go to tech guy for the Foot Clan, Stockman easily fits the Tech class. Not to mention in the game he's always in his suit of robotic armor.

Metalhead: 5/5. Robot.

Zeck: 5/5. A plethora of gadgets and a highly advanced suit make him perfect for the Tech class.

Michelangelo (LARP): 2/5. Technically, in the pseudo-medieval times they're cosplaying in, a bow and arrow would be seen as rather advanced and high tech. Especially since Mikey is totally using special arrows, like the rope arrow. While the argument is flimsy, ultimately i think archer Mikey could only be tech or cunning.

B.U.N.N.I.E.S.: 5/5. A group of MOUSERS with rabbit ears. They're robots, so they fit the Tech class.

Donatello (Classic): 5/5. Gee. I wonder if the class based specifically on this character will be the perfect fit.

Donatello (Movie): 5/5. Gee. I wonder if the class based specifically on this character will be the perfect fit.

Donatello (Space): 4/5. I think Space Donnie is the most justified in staying the same class. He's the tech guy in the advanced spacesuit. His technical knowledge rapidly expanded due to his time with the Fugitoid. However, I believe rapidly is the key word here. I believe Donnie should've been in the swift class. Donnie adapts to life on the ship the best. Frequently he helps the professor with repairs and upgrades. Donnie's inventing doesn't take a break either. He keeps up the pace.

Dr. Rockwell: 4/5. One may think he should be in the spirit class due to his psychic powers. However, his psychic amplifier is vital to his abilities. This vital piece of technology is what puts him in the Tech class.

Krang (Classic): 5/5. An evil genius with an advanced robotic suit.

Raphael (Vision Quest): 5/5. The main catalyst for this match is that Raph's newest ability, shooting flames at his enemies, is a crafted piece of technology.

Rocksteady (Classic): 4/5. Not my first thought when I think of big rhino, but the game justifies this approach by having all of his moves rely on a wide array of lasers and ray guns. Other games such as Shredder's Revenge and Nick All Star Brawl 2 put more focus on Rocksteady's proficiency with advanced weaponry, such as big laser guns and grenades.

Tiger Claw: 4/5. With his twin pistols and jetpack, Tiger Claw utilizes plenty of technology to hunt his foes. Though I could easily see an argument for him being in cunning.

Conclusion

Total score: 4.5/5. Tech has very clear fits. It’s fairly obvious when a character deserves to be in the tech class. It’s hard to argue that a character with a laser gun is might or spirit.

Next time we’ll be going over what Tech counters: Spirit. This one is gonna get a bit rough.