#it's about women having to give up the spotlight yet again

[angrygreengxrl]

I'm watching Blue Eye Samurai again and Akemi is treated like an item, called a pig, discussed like an animal for sale when she is still in the same room. Woman has no right to travel alone, can't enter a city just bc there is no man with her. Mizu is beaten and told she is weak boy, but she knows she is in fact a weak girl, she looks in the mirror with disappointment and sadness bc she thinks her weakness comes from being a woman and mixed race. Women are a bargain and pleasure item only valued in brothel. They are expected to just accept everything and humbly take it. Mizu dresses up as a man to hold power and rights she cannot touch as a woman.

And yet some people are like nag this is about gender disphoria.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

POWER CURES

tashi donaldson x fem!reader, word count 4.2k. NSFW!

your career in sports journalism has made you one of the most successful women in your field — a career you built on your own after you broke up with tashi donaldson at stanford. yet rivalry still burns between you, and whenever given the opportunity you can't help but add fuel to the fire. requested by @elaci who also writes for challengers so go follow :)

“It’s a miracle he’s still playing,” you say. “Art showed so much passion today, I could feel it. Maybe next time he could focus on hitting the ball instead of smashing ants on the court with his racket – it just sends the wrong message I think, not very eco-friendly.” 

Tashi shakes her head, attempting to brush off your comment, but you can feel the silent fury you’ve stirred up in her. Her expression is partially hidden by her sunglasses as the two of you stand at the edge of the court, her only guard from your scrutiny. It’s been nine years since you’ve spoken to her, but the four years you dedicated to her before that taught you every one of her tells. She’s different now – she wears her hair short, her makeup darker, age and experience have made her seem solemn. But you can feel it, that under all of the change she is still the same. 

“At least he still plays,” she says sharply. “You’re the critic, the journalist, but you would get on the court and get yourself knocked the fuck out. Art works, he doesn’t lock himself in the basement to write pity-party bullshit for money.” 

“Neither do I,” you smile. “I don’t write anything for money, though I do enjoy the benefits.” 

“You’ve always been greedy,” Tashi accuses. “You enjoy taking what isn’t yours, and destroying what you can’t reach.” 

You shrug. You won’t attempt to deny it – greed is what got you into this profession, and greed is what has held you up to survive it. Greed is what got you a million dollar mansion and the audience that paid for it, and greed is what has you standing at the side of Tashi Donaldson as you watch her husband step off the tennis court after losing another match to add to his streak this year. 

“If you write anything about this match, I will end your career,” Tashi says casually, because power means nothing to her, and using it is easy. She takes off her sunglasses, puts them in her purse that costs more money than your car. When she meets your eyes, there’s stoic sureness in her gaze. 

“It’s sweet that you think I only came here for you.” 

She gives you a hard look, searching you for the truth if she couldn’t trust it to come from your words. Whatever conclusion she would come up with was none of your concern – it’s true that you hadn’t come here for her, not completely. You’re here for another set of competitors, the headliners of the women’s division. If there was one thing you could use to define your career, it wouldn’t be the Donaldsons, or the Duncans – it would be your influence on women’s tennis. Your journalism through the years has put women in the spotlight of the sport, and for as long as you could you would continue the mission of keeping them there. 

But when you had seen Tashi’s husband playing in the final match of the day, and when you had seen her watching him alone at the sidelines, you couldn’t help but take advantage of it. Your comments and motives were petty, but deserved. 

You see Art begin to approach the two of you with his gym bag. “That’s my cue, isn’t it?” you ask. You try to avoid Art at all cost even after all these years, it creates a situation more awkward for you than for him. “I don’t think he needs me to lecture him, not again.” 

You begin to depart from Tashi’s side, but then you pause and turn back to her. “I’ll be in New Rochelle for the Challengers tournament in a few weeks,” you tell her. “Maybe there’s someone there your husband could beat, for a change.” 

Tashi scoffs, and you take your chance to leave before you can be joined by Art or any of the reporters or journalists following in his wake. You’ve done your work for the day, your air-conditioned hotel room is calling to you and you’re all too prepared to run to it. 

When you stand at the exit to the tennis court, you spare a look back in the direction of the Donaldsons. Tashi is immersed in giving feedback to Art as he stands in childlike submission. Her hands are planted on his shoulders, she’s looking into his eyes, and when she spares a look at the court a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you remember how it felt to watch her play. How she used to win every game she signed to compete in, how effortless her victories were. 

In a way, you miss it. You miss her. The promise of her victories that would pull you through in college, that you could look forward to watching and writing about. The memory of it sparks a flare of anger within you – four years, erased, yet still so potent in your memory. 

You turn away from the court. You push through the crowd, in your pride you stand a little taller than the rest. Against you is the only match Tashi Duncan could never win. 

You pass by the doors of the locker rooms on your way out. You know Tashi must have waited with Art in his locker room before the match started – a private locker room, you would suspect, or one they bought out for the day in a grand show of money.

You frown. How many times had you waited with Tashi in locker rooms until tournaments began, how many times had you come in after her matches to listen to her talk through them while she got ready to leave? Enough times to know you weren’t alone in reminiscing, that Tashi could escape the memories with no more ease than you could. 

THIRTEEN YEARS AGO, STANFORD. 

You resist a smile – you can’t let her win, though you can see she’s trying inexplicably hard to. She never takes it seriously when you try to interview her for assignments for your classes at Stanford. 

“I can’t put that in my paper,” you tell Tashi. “I’d get us kicked out.” 

Tashi shrugs, stepping toward you as you stand in the locker room alone together after her match. “You asked what I was thinking about during the game. I was thinking about you.” 

You roll your eyes. You lean back against the lockers, and Tashi takes advantage of it, coming up in front of you to box you in. Her eyes meet yours – her intensity is unmatched, even after she’s won every game of tennis this season that’s been thrown at her by the university. Power means nothing to her, because using it is easy. 

“You don’t believe me?” Tashi asks. Nothing goes unnoticed by her, it was brave to roll your eyes. “You’re all I think about.” 

“Tennis is all you think about.” 

Instead of correcting you, she kisses you. Your hands find her waist, and wrap around her back when you pull her closer. She consumes your thoughts, your mind, and you’re happy to keep it that way with disregard to the price you might pay for it. 

Tashi’s hands slip under your shirt. One travels up your side, under your bra. You arch into her touch, senses clouded with her – until you hear voices outside the locker room, people leaving the building. 

You pull out of the kiss as the voices fade, and immediately she’s kissing your neck. “This is a terrible idea,” you murmur half-heartedly. You want her to prove you wrong. 

“No one’s coming in, I was the last match.” 

“But they could come in.” 

“They won’t.” 

You don’t seem convinced. Tashi moves to look at you, and tilts her head. 

“Tell me you don’t want this,” she demands. You see how she craves you, she’s willing to indulge herself after her latest victory. It wouldn’t be the first time you would find yourself here, against the lockers with every intention of letting her use you in the way she wishes. She sees through your words – she knows you want this just as much as she does. 

“No,” you say, because you do want this. You’ve wanted her all morning, since you saw her warming up for her match. And even if someone were to come in and find you with her, pressed up against the lockers and at her will, it would only prove a fact you dream of everyone knowing anyway: that in every way, Tashi Duncan is yours. Audiences may celebrate her, anyone might desire her, but at the end of every day it’s you she comes home to. It’s you she wants. 

“Good,” she mutters, and presses you harder against the locker, pressing space between your legs with her knee. She kisses down your neck, and one of her hands travels below the waistband of your shorts while the other is still at your chest. Her hands are cold against the warmth of your skin, sending a chill rippling down your back. 

“Be quiet,” Tashi orders, and you nod. An empty promise, but you’ll try your best. “Good girl.” 

Her praise has you biting back a moan as her knee moves away and her hand slides between your thighs. You can’t hold her gaze, the gravity it holds. 

Your hips chase her hand as she circles your clit – your hips buck back against the lockers, and the sound echoes through the room, and your moan would accompany the noise if not muffled by Tashi’s hand over your mouth. A quick reaction on her end, she knows your body better than you do. 

“Quiet,” Tashi whispers. She presses a kiss to the edge of your jaw, below your ear. You try for a deep breath, but it’s shaky. “I’m fucking you here, and you’re moaning? Anyone could hear you. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod again, her hand still over your mouth. Your eyes fall closed, her touch burns through you like fire. It’s not enough, it’s too much, it’s everything you need and more. 

Tashi feels the pleasure building in you – it inspires her to interrupt it, to pull both of her hands from you. 

You whine in protest, watching her in curious alarm. You need this, she knows you do. 

Tashi’s hands find your hips, and she watches you closely. A sadistic sort of smile pulls at her lips, one that has you squirming, reaching for her again. Your attempts are futile, your yearning feeds her desire to starve you, push you to your limits. “You have to be patient,” she says. 

And you will be, though everything in you aches for her. You will let her win, let her pick your cards and cheat the game to end in her favor. You’re content with it – a side that is not without reward to you as Tashi lowers to her knees in front of you, and when she looks up at you, she already knows she’s won. 

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER, NEW ROCHELLE.

The sun glares down at you through the windshield, but despite its best efforts, it cannot reach you. It’s cool in your car – it combats the sweltering heat of the morning in New Rochelle as you sit waiting for the final matches to start on the second day of the Challengers tournament. You don’t want to go sit down too early, there’s no point in submitting yourself to the discomfort of hot metal seats amongst the swarm of the audience until you have to. You’re content to sit here with your eyes closed for as long as you can, you finally have a moment to yourself after the chaos of traveling to New Rochelle. 

Tapping on your window makes you jump. Your eyes snap open, and when you see who waits on the other side of your car window, you wish you’d never traveled to the tournament at all. You knew he would be here, you saw him competing yesterday, but you had successfully avoided him and had left early after the first few matches.  

You roll your window down. Patrick Zweig stares at you with the most dumbass fucking smile you’ve witnessed in years. 

“Well, look who it is!” He exclaims. He leans an arm against the top of your car, but you shove him off of it through the window. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you snap. He frowns, and you sigh. It’s been nine years since you’ve seen him in person – since you broke up with Tashi – and not a day has passed in which you can decisively say you have missed him. 

“I’m competing,” he says. 

You furrow your eyebrows. “I know that. Why are you here, talking to me?” 

Patrick shrugs. “Can’t I take a second to reconnect with an old friend?” 

“An old friend?” you ask. “I don’t think we were ever friends.” 

“Maybe not, but I know you’ll be hoping I win instead of Art this afternoon.” 

You pause. “Art Donaldson? He’s here, competing?” 

“Yeah. You know, I was told you invited him and Tashi. It’s everywhere online. That’s why I came over here, to say thank you for setting up the match. Art and I are the only ones left in the division. I wanted to wish you luck, too, with whatever it is you plan to get out of having us all here.” 

You don’t respond for a moment. Vaguely you recall inviting Tashi to the Challengers tournament a few weeks ago after Art’s loss – Maybe there’s someone there your husband could beat for a change – but you had disregarded it. You had meant the entire thing as a joke, a jab at Art’s poor tennis performance. Never would you have expected the Donaldsons to remotely consider participating in a Challengers tournament. You regret leaving early yesterday, missing their arrival at a tournament so far beneath them. You would have enjoyed witnessing their shame. 

“I didn’t set anything up,” you tell Patrick, yet you doubt the validity of your own statement. “And I’m not planning on getting anything out of it.” 

“Whatever you say. I just know Tashi wouldn’t bother with something like this for the hell of it. Either Art’s tennis has gotten really fucking bad for them to stoop to a tournament this low, or she’s using him to be here with you. Or, of course, both can be true. I’m going with both.” 

You shake your head. “Tashi has no interest in me.” 

“It’s been nine years since she left you, and she still hates you. She would probably fucking stab you if given the chance. That’s not something to take lightly with her, it takes more than resentment to hold onto something that long. Even I’m not as lucky.” 

“I’m not interested in making amends with Tashi Donaldson.” 

Patrick shrugs. He gives you a look, I don’t believe you, that you want to punch him for. You have nothing to say to Tashi, no reason to wish to see her. You went up to talk to her those weeks ago at Art’s game because you wanted to taunt her with your presence. You wanted her to see that you were successful without her, you don’t need her. 

You wanted her to see you – you realize how it sounds, and that there’s no way you would win a dispute with Patrick if your only explanation for reconnecting with Tashi is I wanted her to see that I’m better than her husband. You look back to him with a facade of nonchalance. 

You don’t know what to say, so you shift the focus back to him. “You’re going to get killed in a match against Art.” 

“How would you know? You haven’t seen me play in years.”

“I don’t need to.” 

“Wow, thanks for having so much faith in me.” 

You roll your eyes. 

Patrick’s gaze shifts to something beyond your car, something his eyes trail for a few seconds before he turns back to you. “I need to go warm up,” he announces, and backs away from your car. “Write something heroic about me to publish when I win, will you?” 

You roll up your window. You watch him disappear from the parking lot. Peace still evades you once he’s gone – that Tashi would be coming to the tournament is enough to have you nearly in hysterics. The promise of her soon arrival has adrenaline coursing through you, though the emotion accompanying it is indecipherable. 

You loathe Tashi Donaldson. You hate her husband even more. But there’s something so addictive about being around her to prove it. To prove that it was a mistake to end things with you and pursue Art shortly after, that he could never live up to you. Your fame came from success in writing and journalism, Art’s fame came from Tashi and viral videos of Art flinging tennis rackets after his losses. It felt good for you to prove your worth in contrast to his. You finally have power over them, and you have every intention of using it. 

For better or worse, you still care about Tashi’s opinion of you. For better or worse, you still care for Tashi Duncan. 

A car pulls into the empty spot next to you. The glare of the sun against it burns your eyes, leaves you with the start of a headache. 

You turn to look at the owners of the vehicle. Immediately you understand what Patrick had been spying beyond your car, and why he had been so quick to flee. 

You missed them yesterday, but you wouldn’t miss them today. You turn your car off and get out. 

“Need help carrying that?” You ask Art as he picks up his gym bag out of the trunk of the car beside yours. “I don’t want you to break any rackets.” 

“That would look good for you,” he says dryly. He shuts the trunk. “To make it seem like you’re making amends.” 

“I have nothing to make amends for.” 

He’s silent. You have two thousand words to make amends for, actually, but you’ll never be caught apologizing. You wrote an article about Art’s tennis years ago that gave you much of your fame – an article that had suggested Art was one of the worst tennis players to come out of Stanford, and that it was a shame he was using Tashi’s injury to his advantage by convincing her to coach his mediocre games. You implied that he was using her, that he was a cheater in the very least as far as tennis was concerned. 

It was never your finest moment, but you would never regret it. He deserved it, and so did Tashi for the way the two of you left your relationship. 

A car door slams. You’re joined by Tashi. In a light blue dress she’s stunning, radiant beyond comparison with the man she comes to stand by. A man she knows she cannot defend, a man beneath her. 

She gives Art a tyrannical look. He’s going to go find the locker room, he says, as if he hadn’t played here yesterday, and with a final look between you and Tashi he takes his bag and begins his way across the parking lot. 

You’re left alone with Tashi. The two of you are silent – she’s waiting for you to say something, and you’re waiting to come up with something that sounds right. 

“I saw you talking to Patrick,” Tashi says at last. You nod. “Did he tell you he asked me to coach him?” 

A smile pulls at your lips. “No, he didn’t.” 

“Good. Now you have something to write about,” she says, taking a step towards you, “when he loses. You can write about how he tried so desperately to come out on top, and you can write about who he lost to.” 

It’s not about Art anymore. It’s not about Patrick, it’s not about this tournament. It’s about you. Tashi’s reversal, her revenge. She won when she left you ten years ago, you won with your article, and Tashi Donaldson has never been one to keep a tie. She’s been keeping score for nine years in preparation for an opportunity such as this, one to set the record in her favor. 

“I’m not interested in placing bets on failed prodigies.” 

“You’re not too good for it, though.” 

“You are. At least you should have been.” 

Tashi shakes her head. “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“You know what it means,” you say, and step closer. “It should be you on that court, not them. I should be writing about you.” 

You know you’ve struck a nerve. Tashi stills. Her expression was once unreadable, but now it reveals her resentment. At you maybe, but also at fate itself, because you’re right: it should be her competing. Winning for herself and not through others. She still bears the weight of power, but it’s no longer hers to use. 

“Your husband is going to lose,” you say, and you both know it’s a lie. But you will be there when Art wins, you will be there waiting for her to prove you wrong like she’s always craved. If it is winning that will let her make amends with herself, you will be the harbinger. You will let her cheat the game just so she can win. Maybe it’s all you’ve wanted this whole time, inviting her to the Challengers tournament. 

Maybe it’s your way of making amends. 

“Any final words before the game?” You ask, in the way you always used to ask her before her matches. Any final words. You used to laugh together about how apocalyptic it sounded, and Tashi used to watch you write about her after and use her quotes for assignments for your university classes. 

Tashi remembers the phrase, you see recognition sweep over her. She watches you closely, and behind her facade you see something too reminiscent to be hatred. “Fuck you,” she says, though her voice lacks animosity. 

“Is that on the record?” 

“Yes.” 

An uncanny way of making amends, but one you would welcome all the same. 

-

Her gaze sears into you as you sit in the stands watching the match. Tashi sits on the opposite side of the court, yet the two of you are positioned with a clear view of one another throughout the game. 

The score has fluctuated throughout the match. Patrick and Art have stayed consistent in score and loss – it’s closer than you thought it would be, enough that you see Tashi’s concern growing over the end result. Art is wearing, he’s becoming tired, and you know if he quits in his exhaustion he’ll leave with another loss. The Donaldsons will lose credibility, Tashi will disappear in the eyes of the media. 

You find yourself conflicted in all ways related to the match continuing before you. You want Art to lose every match he signs for – yet the thought of Tashi going down with him haunts you. Even after all she has done to you, all you have done to her, she deserves better than any path offered.  

You pause – the match has ended, the audience stands in applause. You stand to view the court, peering over shoulders, pushing your way out of the audience. 

Art Donaldson, standing in the middle of the court. He basks in the glory given by his victory, one long suspended in anticipation for you to be witness. He looks up to find Tashi in the stands, and you watch as something unsaid passes between them. An I told you so on Art’s end, and something unsatisfied from Tashi’s. 

You don’t need to watch the rest of it. You don’t need to see Art’s self-ordered victory lap, and you don’t need to hear the speech he’ll give the reporters waiting to flock to him. You don’t need to see Tashi by his side, so you leave the court. 

You make your way through the tennis complex. Fluorescent lights stare you down, their judgment shines brighter for you. You don’t give them anything to taunt you with, keeping your expression flat. It was obvious Art would win, and in his victory Tashi has been fulfilled. 

The click of heels trails you. You spare a glance over your shoulder as you walk, and you pause. Her eyes are on you alone in the empty hall. 

“Congratulations,” you say, dull. “Do you feel better now? I see Art does.” 

“Fuck Art,” she snaps. Tashi is empowered in her pride, which has not been placed in her husband, but in herself. This is not his victory, it belongs to her. She closes the distance between you, and if you moved back any further you’d be leaning against the wall. The door to the locker room is across the hall – your memories hardly feel like your own, hardly feel like they belong just the same to the woman in front of you, but they crash through you anyway. 

“This feels familiar,” you murmur, looking up at her. You look to see if the halls are empty, but Tashi wastes no such time – she pulls you against her, her lips on yours, hunger in her touch as the two of you realize how much time you have to make up for and so little opportunity for it. Her nails dig into the back of your neck until her hand weaves into your hair, and like you always have you melt into her every desire. 

“I win,” Tashi says once she pulls away. Her eyes bear into yours, dark and unforgiving, dominating. “I fucking win.” 

There’s nothing that could prove her wrong. Power cures, if you know how to use it. 

—

—

—

i wrote this fic so many different times honestly and i kept a few of the scenes I deleted from it bc it was getting too long so if anyone wants a part 2 lmk andddd i can put something together 😔

[cool-fancier]

Behind The Scenes

Synopsis: You and Bada, members of BEBE, are secretly dating on "Street Woman Fighter." Fans spotted your hidden affection in background moments, but you continued to keep it a secret, appreciating the support of your fans.

You and Bada had been dating in secret for a while, and the only people who were aware of your relationship were the other BEBE members. It was necessary to keep your love under wraps, especially with the intense competition on "Street Woman Fighter." The last thing you needed was the distraction of public scrutiny.

As you stood waiting for the directors to give the cue when to start, the camera crew prepared to film. Being the committed performer and leader that she was, Bada strictly complied with the no-public-display-of-affection (PDA) rule when it came to dancing for the camera. She was worried about the fans' reactions and the potential backlash.

Bada's attitude completely shifted when the camera started to roll. She concentrated on the women dancing in front of her, making sure each step was flawless and keeping up her professional demeanour. You mirrored her attitude and demeanour.

However, when the camera wasn't on you, it was an entirely different story. You always felt Bada's hands on you. She would sneak glances, brushing her fingers against yours, or lightly resting her hand on your back. It was like she had an itch that could only be scratched when the camera wasn't watching.

One day, during a particularly intense training session, the camera was focused on MANNEQUEE practicing and in the background, Bada took the opportunity and pressed her lips against your cheek, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Although it was a quick, secret kiss, it gave you the chills nonetheless.

As the days went by, viewers who paid close attention to the battles started to notice something odd in the background. Social media comments began to grow with rumours about your hidden relationship.

Week after week, fans of "Street Woman Fighter" were glued to their screens, analysing every frame for hidden gems of your relationship. The production team was particularly fond of filming your crew during practices when other teams were in the spotlight, making it the perfect opportunity for fans to spot those precious moments.

Once more, the camera panned out to capture the entire room as LADYBOUNCE performed their routine for the K-pop Death match. You and Bada stood in the background, intentionally blurry but unmistakable. While the other dancers were focused on their show, you two were smiling quietly while softly connecting your fingers. The viewers at home were giddy with anticipation:

@Y/NHiddenAdmirer: Did anyone else see that? I swear, Y/n and Bada are in love! 🥰

@BadaAndYShipper:OMG, I can't handle the cuteness! They think they can hide, but we see them!🤭😅

@BadaSecretCrush:Forget the dance battle, the real drama is Y/n and Bada's secret love story!🩷✨

@BadaAndYHearts:Who would've thought we would see Bada like this.Thank you Y/N for making our Bada happy.🫶🏽❤️

@BadaY/NAffection:I love that they're on the same team and have been friends for so long.I also hope that they are dating and us as supporters of them shouldn't rush them to announce it.🙂

Heart emojis and speculative comments flooded the show's official YouTube channel's comments section. The fans were determined in their search for proof, and the blurry surroundings further increased their interest. But despite their speculation, you and Bada were able to keep your relationship a secret, giving the show a sense of intrigue.

And once more during one of the rehearsals, you and Bada found yourselves in the background once again, this time while a powerful rival crew showcased their moves.

With her words just above a whisper, Bada leaned in closer. She said, "You know, I don't think they've noticed us yet."

Your eyes remained fixed on the dancers in front of you as you chuckled quietly. "Probably not," you said. "Everyone's so focused on them."

Bada's hand brushed against yours, out of sight of the camera. "It's kind of like our little secret, isn't it?"

You turned to her with a loving smile. You responded in a whisper, "Yeah, it is," and as if on cue, you both gave each other a soft kiss on the cheek, your hearts bursting with love.

The fans may not have seen the kiss clearly, but they certainly felt the love and connection that influenced your relationship. Their excitement increased week after week, and your relationship thrived both on and off camera.

Fans eagerly anticipated those fuzzy background pictures as "Street Woman Fighter" went on the air, expecting to catch another glimpse of your intimate moments. The fact that your fans supported your relationship made it even more meaningful, even if you and Bada still had to act professionally in front of the camera.

[stormandforge]

Raw reactions to X-Force #5

Yup, someone dies.

MASSIVE spoilers (and controversial opinions) below.

It's Nori. There'd been so much foreshadowing in the comic - and so much fan discussion about the upcoming character death - that I had started believing it wouldn't be her. But no, it was always going to be her. When you consider the way she joined the team, her post-Krakoa trauma, her selflessness and her relationship with Forge, it makes complete sense.

That death scene goes hard. We actually see her burned-up corpse, we hear her farewell words - oof, my heart. Rest in power, little blue-haired hero.

This said, everyone attacking Geoff Thorne over Nori's death needs to calm down. I would understand this amount of upset if he'd done her dirty, but he really hasn't. He's consistently written her with respect, gave her as much spotlight as he could in a team book, and gave her a heroic death. Stories kill characters, people. That's just the way it is.

Also: Nori's coming back, maybe even in this run. We just don't know yet. And don't give me nonsense about the resurrection protocols being gone - mutants came back from the dead before Krakoa, they will continue to do so.

"Forge always has a plan." YES. Nothing to do with his power; he's just always up to something. That's Forge 101. Fuck me, it's so good to have a writer who understands him. And because Thorne has done his homework, I believe what we're witnessing is a typical Forge plan: something that he believes will benefit the greater good, but that is also misguided and full of hubris and will repeatedly backfire in his face.

Forge can be cold, but this is subzero. He loves Nori, he wouldn't act that way if he was fully himself. Something's going on. Someone needs to shake him real hard - beat him to a pulp, really - and realign his neurons. The two most qualified people to do that are showing up in the next issue, so I'm thinking this is what will happen.

Why does he take her gauntlets? It can't just be for the sake of getting his tech back. As i said he's not that cold, and also he can probably make those again in his sleep.

FORGE ALMOST KILLED AN ALT VERSION OF STORM IN COLD BLOOD. The man is not well, I'm telling you.

There's a theme of Forge hurting the women he cares about in this issue. Trust Sage to see the pattern and get the hell out before anything can happen- the hurting or the caring.

OK, now he's levitating with a big shiny triangle around his body. That's magic, isn't it? For a second I started thinking the Analog must be magic after all, but then I remembered Sage loves staring into it too, so it can't be. Mmm...still processing.

Thorne understands Forge's power better than any writer I've seen (yup that includes Claremont), and I appreciate that he mentions his need for materials to build anything. It should be obvious, but most writers have him make things out of thin air. There's only so much he can fit in that utility belt.

So many people, so many things! Poor Marcus To.

Marcus To is still doing excellent though. Do I need to tell you that Forge is hot? I think I've been clear on that already, but let me reiterate: FORGE IS HOT.

"Slippery as ice": oh, that made me hap-py. Such an evocative, accurate way of describing Sage.

No, Forge's power doesn't let him see what will happen. But you know whose power can see every eventuality? Sage's. This was highlighted in the very first issue, and Forge repeats the exact same words from this moment in this issue. THERE'S SOMETHING TO THAT.

I continue to dig the dynamic between Forge and Sage, curses and all. The little cerebral push and pull they have going on is very interesting.

Also continue to adore Tessa herself. The way she challenges Forge at every opportunity, the way she always asks the right questions *chef's kiss*. Everyone obviously wants to murder Forge on that last page, but I love that she's the one who tells him to go fuck himself, even though she's been the person closest to him on the team. She's my girl. I'm this close to opening a side blog entirely devoted to her awesomeness. (I see what Geoff Thorne means when he says she tries to steal the show. She does!)

OK, so, there's no way Forge has a team anymore at this point, so I assume the next issue will be a downtime one. I imagine he'll go home, have an existential crisis featuring his two exes (as you do) and then get back on the road. Or something? Also, the next issue has a Sage variant cover, which could imply she plays an important part in it. One can only hope. If it's the issue of Forge getting his ass kicked by awesome women, she should take part.

[klm-zoflorr]

Fanon Lukas family tree!! Well, it's for my AU, but I'm sure we can make it work for canon as well ahah

& dark mode... it looks cool okay

I've been working on it for a month lowkey, ever since I started on that Evan/Naomi wip, just... Slowly building up lore and a story and characters and rough estimates of ages and tidbits of brainstorming and a timeline and daddy issues and coming up with names and in this case, well, superpowers too because that's what the AU is about. But anyways, I'm super excited to dig in further, because YES all of these characters pretty much have some amount of personality and interesting details about them so far. Woohoo!! It's also interesting for the same reasons Gerry is interesting; because powers pass down genetically!! Yeehaw!! I get to give them all slightly different versions of the same powers and see how it informs their relationships!

You can see here what was basically my very first version of it. How underdeveloped! It grew a lot, damn. Also some minor changes I made along the way, as for the reasons why... Well they're pretty interesting if I do say so myself, I'll talk about those later. Have fun spotting the differences if you'd like lol

Still, a few general notes so far:

I believe the only Lukases mentionned in canon are Peter, Mordechai (in the 1800's), Nathaniel (owner of their cargo company so presumably some sort of patriarch), Conrad (the guy who talked to the astronauts before shooting them into space) and Evan Lukas. To that I added Virginia, an OC but like come on we need some women represent around here. I've always interpreted Nathaniel as being Peter's uncle, so i put him there. Nathaniel should be the one in charge in my mind too, so I made him the grandfather of the main line/evan's line (because evan is sort of the main character here). I also wanted to keep peter away from the main branch because... Well i don't know. I just didn't want him to be Evan's dad I guess. Or else, you've got that specific branch of the family that gets all the spotlight and important canon characters, and everybody else kinda sucks. It's not ideal!

I originally planned on leaving Peter's branch of the family pretty blank to be honest just because I wasn't super invested into him. I thought he had a sibling and a few nephews and that was it. But then I relistened to mag159, realised he had 5 (wait, 4? Oh shit, did i fuck up. Uhhhhhh) A FEW siblings and that two of them were named, Judith and Aaron. So that was interesting!

Mostly the beginning of it was just figuring out the ages to get an idea of how they should behave and how it all fit in and how far down the line they should be, and then building around it.

Oh, yeah, and based on the few canon names we got, I tried to find names that fit in. The style was... Well. The lukases' names sound to me like they're very basic. Kinda trendy, kinda... What I thought about was "cute" actually. So i tried to keep the same vibe for the rest of my made up guys. Wee-woo. Annnnd ive been rambling again.

Oh, oh right, wait no don't leave yet there were still thing I had to talk about. Few important details I knew about at the beginning stages:

-Evan's mother is a Lukas, and she's very opinionated but kind

-I wanted Nathaniel's eldest son, the one who became Graham (no, not notebook eating graham) to have a son who resents him very much. So i did that

-Adeline! She's old as balls. And very nice. Iwant her to be my grandmawmaw

-oh, right, Mordechai 2!!! For him I thought of the power first, basically he can show you things that happened in the past without having witnessed them. It's a pretty great ability imo.

-Oh, yeah, uh, every Lukas passes down their family name no matter their gender lol.

[newcaptainofsquad9]

The Lady’s Man~Becky Lynch x fem! reader

Pairing: Becky Lynch x reader

Genre: Romance, fluff

  Summary: After spending close time with Becky during your time as tag team duos, she starts to dress differently, something not only the fans pick up on but you along with Becky’s competition for the Smackdown Women’s championship too.

Writer’s Note: First and foremost, I’m sorry about not updating a certain fic yet (The Astrid, Crazy Rich Asians one. I’m still working on it!) or just writing a lot on here in general. Depression has its hooks sunk deep and work has been draining me more than usual but here I am. One of the things that has helped me lots is wrestling, haven’t watched it since I was a young teen and wow, it’s like interacting with an old friend again. One thing that I’ve also noticed is how much the women on the roster are hot and why I liked them so much. The gay awakening was real. Anyway, hope you enjoy my first wrestling fic!

Word Count: 1, 978

You were classy. If you were to partake in feuds or clap-backs, you kept it high-brow and let your skills in the ring do most of the talking. That was part of your character: Lady Y/N, here to bring back beauty and class to the WWE, an exhausting effort to get through with your in ring abilities instead of full on trash talking. That being said, you did have your moments where you popped off on the mic, especially when Damage Ctrl was involved. 

You came face to face with Bayley, Dakota Kai and Iyo Sky tonight; the people of the crowd roaring and chanting, “My Lady” once your music hit and you came strutting toward the ring.

“Aw, here she comes!” Bayley yelled. She pointed off around the crowd and continued to mouth off“Shut up! We’re the top ladies here you heathens.”

“Bayley, all this crying isn’t gonna get you anywhere,” you said. You entered the ring, smiling at the audience, waved and aimed a few kisses at the people, swooning them in the process. “Didn’t Becky and I beat Iyo and Dakota last week and didn’t you lose your championship to Charlotte at the Rumble last week?”

Bayley nodded eagerly, smile plastered on her face. 

“Yeah! Lady yeah! I did y/n! But who’s been a champion at all? Me! Not you! Some lady you are!” Bayley exclaimed while laughing and nodding to her Damage Ctrl sidekicks. “Maybe, if you’re nice to us tonight, I can bring you in the spotlight on my Ding Dong Hello show next week. Well, just you and not your man.”

You cocked up an eyebrow at the mention of “your man”, right when the WWE universe all “oooooed” all at once. It was some sort of joke you weren’t in on, yet you caught yourself with a sly grin and went back in on Bayley. 

“My man? You making up delusions now, huh, Ms. Role-model?” you said. 

Bayley scoffed then let out a snort while turning to Dakota and Iyo. The crowd seemed to react as well, chanting “The Man” over and over. 

Oh. Becky, that was who Bayley was referring to. She called herself the man, didn’t mean she was your “man.” Right? And Bayley is totally wrong, the WWE Universe did have their bright moments but they didn’t dictate who did or didn’t belong to you. Especially Becky Lynch. She was your friend and tag team partner. Period. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“Please, you might be able to fool these idiots!” Bayley yelled. She gestured to the audience before continuing. “But you can’t fool me and the heart eyes she gives you! Have you even seen her new merch?”

Now you knew Bayley made up insults and material on the fly but you really had no idea what she was talking about. Before you could wrap your head around it or throw your own comment back at her, Becky’s music hit, sending the arena along with Damage Ctrl into a frenzy.

“Aww, now look who you’ve spawned!” Bayley groaned. “How dare you idiots speak of The Man!”

The combination of the loud music, the crowd and Bayley’s irritating yells swirled into a cacophony of noise that left you frozen while you watched your fiery headed partner (tag of course) rush out, all smiles and cockiness under her black shades. It’s like what Bayley alluded too, her outfit and merch was different: instead of wearing her flashy, “Bex” shirt underneath her leather jacket, Becky sported a new shirt with blocky letters reading “The Lady’s Man.” 

Your heart skipped a bit at the display; being around Becky was already complex, she just made it twenty times harder. She trotted down to you on your frozen spot in front of the ring, eyes obscured by her shades until she lifted them. 

“You called?” Becky asked. She aimed her words at Bayley and the entire WWE Universe, but it felt as if she was just talking to you. 

Becky stepped closer toward you, rearranged your hair a little before placing the shades on your head. 

“This Ok?” she asked. “Don’t want to mess up your hair, but I just couldn’t resist.” 

Her Irish accent always had an effect on you but how low it was when she whispered, with her gesture of the shades left you flabbergasted longer.

“Hey! Flirt on your own time!” Bayley said. She pointed at Becky, who chuckled. “This is between me and your Lady!”

“Woah, woah, woah! You know Y/N and I are a team, like you and your Ctrl clique,” Becky explained. She brought an arm around your shoulder, patting the spot in an attempt to bring you back from your stump. “The Man always defends her lady. Dare I say, she’s got a better chance at Charlotte for the Smackdown women’s championship than you!” 

Becky’s words got your chest to flare; you nodded along however, smiling a bit too big as words of your own bubbled up from your throat. 

“The Man’s got a valid point though, what do you say, Role-model?” you said. 

Bayley guffawed. 

“Sure! Yeah right, like she would--” Bayley said. She was cut off by the crowd chanting your name over and over, angering her yet again. “Shut up! You idiots don’t know anything! Y/N can’t even compete with Dakota or Iyo, let alone me!”

Becky cocked her head back, as if her fellow horsewoman’s words struck her face on. She turned toward you, mouthing a “can you believe this?” You just rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

“Bayley, keep spouting this nonsense and maybe I’ll have to kick your ass again,” Becky said. She brought you closer, close enough to hook her arm around your waist. “Or! We could take care of Kai and Iyo and they can defend those tag titles for once! Jeez! Those things have been collecting dust!” 

You found yourself smiling more as the heat built up your chest. Becky and you only teamed up due to being a great match against Fire and Desire, along with other amazing women in the division but to suggest you both challenge Damage Ctrl? It was a commitment to what you two could do together, although, it wasn’t as grand as Becky proclaiming herself “your man”, was it the direction Triple H wanted or was it something more?

“No way!” Bayley growled. “I mean, they’re the greatest bunch of the womens division they don’t need to prove a thing!”

Iyo Sky and Dakota nodded, a little too swiftly with conflicting emotions pouring through; you picked up on them immediately.

“You sure Bayley? They seem scared. Let’s ask them, folks! Iyo? Dakota?  Are you afraid to take on Becks and I? Maybe to even put the titles on the line too?”

The WWE Universe erupted in another fit of chants: you made it out to be them calling Damage Ctrl cowards over and over again. Becky chuckled and pulled you close while Iyo and Dakota went over what was going on with Bayley off mic. It looked as if Iyo and Dakota were trying to talk their leader out of it, you felt quite terrible for them and how the crowd began to drown them out with the noise.

“All right! Quiet you idiots!” Bayley shouted. She gestured for the WWE universe to calm down more, leaving mummers among the crowd and stands. “They’ll accept the challenge, next week!”

You didn’t expect them to accept so quick, believing them to think it over throughout the week or maybe go back and forth with Becky on Twitter(usually ending up with you mediating). 

“Yes!” Becky cheered. “We got this, lass.”

You could only nod, lost in the feeling of opportunity: white noise of the crowd and a tingling feeling that warped down your chest toward your belly. A title shot for the first time in your career, with Becky. Becky freaking Lynch. 

The thought kept up its constant ringing in your head, even after you escaped the effervescent noise the WWE universe were known to cause. You managed to reach your personal locker room before a hand grabbed your wrist--the action forced you to tense up, thinking it was Bayley or Damage Ctrl. 

“Whoa, lass, you all right?” Becky said. Concern clean on her face. “Is it OK if we talk?”

You nodded. Becky shut the door behind you, then proceeded to pace the space, back and forth like a blur of orange flame that flicked from one end of a candle to the next. 

“It wasn’t your idea, was it?” you said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

Becky froze, attention immediately on you. 

“What?”

You let out a humorless laugh and motioned to her new T-shirt. 

“The Lady’s Man? It was just a new way of introducing our tag team? Making it official, yeah? Or is it a new storyline that I’m not caught up with yet?” you asked. You pressed your fingers together and fidgeting them while continuing. “I-I just want to understand what all that was.”

“Lass--”

“Rebecca, please be honest with me,” you said. The emotion in your voice was sharp and firm.

Becky rushed over to you, taking your face in your hands. 

“Breathe, y/n, I’ll explain, let me just sit you down, OK?” she said. 

She led you to the folded chair you had set up by your cubby, helping you sit prior to her kneeling in front of you. 

“It was my idea, and yeah Triple H and the people wanted to market it, thought it’d be a great thing to lead up to something amazing to do with the Tag titles,” Becky explained. She took your hand as she spoke, rubbing the knuckles and the underside of a few veins. “But under all of the bravado and what The Man means to me, there’s some truth to it. I really want to try and be your lady too. I-I like you, Y/N, I really do.”

The way Becky looked up at you almost made the emotions break from you, tears flooded your eyes, some spilling over to your dismay. 

“Y/N, no, hun, don’t cry I--”

You cut Becky off with a kiss, meeting her halfway as your arms wrapped around her neck. Becky returned the kiss instantly, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you flush against her. A mini makeout session just about occurred. You pulled back (a little self conscious that you both were still in the arena aka work) but Becky lifted your chin up tenderly, planting a short yet passionate kiss to your lips once again. 

“I love that desire, lass,” Becky whispered. “Does this mean we’re to be more than tag team champions in the future?”

You nodded. “That and we’ll have a lot more moments outside of Wrestlemania.” 

[moralesmilesanhour]

what you're searching for.

summary: Margo goes to a shitty poetry slam and gets more out of it than she expects. wc: 4.9k warnings: alcohol consumption, and it's like very VERY lightly implied that they had an Adult Sleepover if you get my meaning. Nothing really too suggestive in here I promise. One singular reference to a tiktok. a/n: this took me a whole ass week but I'm very proud of where my writing style is going! somewhat inspired by the film 'Love Jones'. If you enjoyed this pls feel free to leave your thoughts or your favorite line if you have one! EDIT: OH MY GOD I FORGOT TO ADD: the first poem is actually taken from the Junior novel 'Miles Morales: Suspended' by Jason Reynolds! The poem at the end is mine though lmao I'm not the best poet

Margo can’t stand poetry.

Someone gets up in front of you with a piece of paper clutched in their hands, and recites what is simultaneously the most vague and the most painfully obvious string of fragmented sentences you’ve ever heard as if they’d just touched your soul.

It’s not rapping, not preaching, but the ugly middle child standing between them. Some odd bastardization of music for people who thought they were too smart for either of the first two, but weren't brave enough to just give speeches.

Speeches, at least, are coherent, specific, and can be scrutinized.

So far, sitting in the front row of the bar that her classmate Zoe had invited her to for poetry night, no one has changed her mind. 

Tonight’s performances consisted of an assembly line of men (and a couple of women) in vintage sweaters ranting about their exes to the rhythm of bongo drums, or some mildly relevant social issue that none had the lexicon to really say anything in stanzas that hasn’t already been said. She had heard nothing yet that sounded much more profound than an Instagram post.

Although, one girl had come up and recited a short poem about her late mother that Margo thought was quite sweet, and the least tortuous to sit through.

The crowd erupted in snaps again for a poet with long braided dreads and an ankh tattoo whose words she had tuned out. The host took the mic and announced the final (thank god) participant:

“Now this next one I had to practically drag over here to get him to share his beautiful poetry with us tonight. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to one of my close friends and colleagues, Miles Morales!”

A lanky young man–Margo suspects about six feet even, given the way he’s towering over the host–awkwardly shuffles over to the center of the stage, offering the crowd a tight-lipped smile. 

He’s in a plain green sweater with the sleeves hastily rolled up to his elbows and a bomber jacket tied around his waist. As soon as he’s handed the microphone, it seems to dawn on him that there’s no turning back, and his body visibly tenses. 

He clearly just got here, and for once Margo doesn’t know what to expect.

Squinting beneath the bright spotlight, he clears his throat and speaks into the mic. 

“Um, hi.”

A few scattered ‘hi’s from the crowd.

There’s something bright and sweet in the tone of his voice that makes him sound a little boyish, and she wonders what he could possibly have under his sleeve that warranted him getting dragged up here last minute.

He takes a deep breath.

“It’s said

That nobody

Is ever more

Than ten feet

From a spider.”

Miles began the poem carefully, like he was confessing something. 

“They be everywhere you and me are.”

A few members of the crowd laugh, others shudder at the thought and frown. 

“And even though

We see them only

When they big enough to see, or when

They move,

Like a cursor

Across the blank white

Page of a wall…”

His voice loses some of its airiness in exchange for confidence as he recites the rest of the poem, and Margo realizes that he isn’t reading off of anything. 

Either he’s improvising, or he has it entirely memorized.

“Or when we trip

The web-like wire

Of a booby trap

Or when they

Fang our flesh

We should probably

Assume most

Just be right there…”

Miles paused and looked somewhere far beyond the crowd, lifting his arm to point to the back of the room. Then he repeated:

“Right there,

Right here,”

He gestures toward the front row, where his eyes land directly on Margo. It’s not so close to the stage that she can tell for sure, but she thinks she sees a hint of a smile cross his lips.

“Looking at us,

Looking over them.”

Silence. 

His arm falls limply to his side as his eyes frantically scan the audience, searching for some kind of response. 

Then, someone begins to clap. Then another. Then another. WIthin moments, the entire room erupts in applause, causing a shy smile to spread across the young man’s face.

“Uh, thank you!” he says, surprised at the positive reception, before shrinking into himself again and leaving the stage the same way he came.

The host returns and takes the mic from him.

“Miles Morales, everybody!”

-

After the poetry slam, Margo insisted that Zoe take her to the sushi place across the street. It had a bar sitting off to the side, one with significantly less poets. The decorative lights hung directly above the shelf filled with glass bottles and shrouded them in cherry red.

Zoe takes a sip of her sherry and leans in.

“Sooo, how was it?”

“It was a’ight.”

The light-skinned girl’s lips pull into a pout. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I told you poetry wasn’t my thing,” Margo pauses, then amends, “I liked the last guy, though. Breath of fuckin’ fresh air.”

“Right? His style really caught my attention, subtle.”

“Glad you liked it.”

Zoe’s eyes widened as she glanced just beyond Margo’s shoulder.

When Margo turned towards the familiar voice and froze. 

The poet in question was standing just inches away, a friendly smile gracing his features. His jacket is no longer around his waist, neatly folded over his arm like an expensive coat. He is with the excitable darker-skinned man who’d just hosted the event, and a man the shade of sandalwood standing just behind him.

They’re both wearing the same type of muted cardigan as Miles, but they’ve got actual coats.

“Y’all were in the front, right?” Miles asks the both of them, though he’s only looking at Margo.

She nods wordlessly. Zoe picks up the slack.

“M-hm, you were great up there! You’ve really never shown anyone your work ‘till tonight?”

Miles snorts at the wording of the phrase. ‘His work’.

“I wrote that poem in high school,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, but my roommate…” 

He gives the dark-skinned man a dirty look. 

“...swiped my journal and found it. Told me I should read it out loud somewhere.”

Margo examines Miles’ face and imagines him as a baby-faced high-schooler, sitting in the back of the classroom with a protective arm around the beat-up red composition notebook he’s writing in. He stuffs it in his bag as soon as he’s done, because he has just poured his heart out onto that page, and his crush’s name is in there. Maybe there are tiny doodles of her in the margins.

“Yo,” the sandalwood-colored man claps Miles on the shoulder. “We about to hit up Tiff’s place, you coming?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Miles nods dismissively. “I’ll catch up with y’all.”

The two other men give each other a knowing look before brushing past him.

“Alright man, catch you later then.”

Once she finally regains the ability to speak, Margo remarks, “You were the only performance I really liked, if I’m being honest.”

“Is that so?” 

“Oh yeah, this one hates poetry,” Zoe places a hand on Margo’s shoulder and laughs. “Tried to change her mind by bringing her over here, but no dice.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What made mine so different?”

“Hm, I dunno…” Margo’s eyes float over his form before making their way back up to his face. “Your delivery, I guess.”

Safe to say, he looks amusedly unconvinced.

“My…delivery.”

She catches herself and quickly adds, “I-I mean, it also kinda felt like everyone else was trying too hard. So.”

He tilts his head at the remark.

“Are you just saying that to flatter me?”

.“I don’t flatter people. Too close to lying.”

“That sounds like half a poem already. Maybe you should go up there next week.”

She gives him a lopsided smile.

“Only if you’re there. I need something to actually look forward to.”

His tongue darts out and passes over his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“Margo.”

Miles hums, softly repeating the name before inching his way over to the counter where he leans his hip on it.

“Pretty. Can I buy you a drink, Margo?”

She doesn’t think her name is all that pretty, but he makes it sound that way.

“Knock yourself out.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Zoe teases as she rises from her seat. “I’m gonna go order us some sushi.”

Miles takes the stool to Margo’s left as he waits on their drinks, his long legs never needing to leave the ground to do so.

He has a funny way of sitting, hands folded neatly in front of him with his back just a few degrees off from being perfectly straight. As if you needed to look distinguished at a sushi bar.

Church boy, Margo guessed. That, or his daddy’s a military man.

It’s adorable either way.

“You in school?” she asked.

“Yup. Princeton.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Oh shit, me too! I’ve never seen you on campus, though. What’s your major?”

“Physics. You?”

“Comp Sci. Been coding since I was in middle school, so…”

Margo remembers the echoing ‘click-clack’ of her keyboard as she sat in an empty computer lab for hours on end after school because she preferred it to her parents’ house.

The bartender hands Miles two glasses of white wine, and he sets the second glass in front of Margo, his warm eyes still focused on her. 

She’s intrigued by how clear they are - no trace of suspicion or calculation behind them. Just the warmth.

“So, where you from? My folks are over in Brooklyn.”

“Georgia.”

Miles’ brows jump to his hairline.

“Damn. What brought you all the way up here?”

To get as far away as possible. 

“Well, it’s Princeton,” she says beneath a forced laugh.

“Yeah, but you got, like, eight different HBCUs over there. How’d Princeton win you over?”

Margo breaks eye contact to stare into her drink.

“Needed a change of pace.”

When she looks up to gauge Miles’ reaction, skepticism is written all over his face. But he doesn’t push it further.

“That’s fair. Princeton’s got a cutting-edge quantum physics program that I’m aiming for. Had to beg my parents to come here,” he grins proudly, “but here I am.”

Margo is silent for a moment.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks suddenly, beckoning Miles to lean in.

“Yeah?”

Grinning, she half-whispers, “I’m actually here on a scholarship.”

He gives her an odd look. 

“Why’d you say it like that? Nothin’ wrong with getting a full ride. The opposite, actually.”

“Some people might feel otherwise. You’re like, the second person I’ve told other than my parents.”

“And why me?” Miles chuckles. “My poetry was just that good?”

“I just…Hm.”

Margo leans back and takes a contemplative sip of her wine, watching him over the rim of her glass. 

Why did she just tell him that?

“I guess I just sorta felt like telling you.”

Margo cautiously sets the wine back down. She figures if she’s not careful, he’ll have her full government name and social security number by the end of the night.

“Y’know, I actually get that a lot,” Miles laughs. “One time, I had this lady I was standing in line with at Target turn around and just start telling me stories about her dead son and how much she misses him. And it’s like, I’m sorry for your loss, but we’re in Target right now and I literally do not know you.”

“Wait, people just go up to you and…tell you shit?”

“Yup. There was this other time at church, too. Just as service ends and I’m about to get up and leave, this short old dude–Dominican, I think–stops me and starts telling me about his entire life. I’m talking start to finish! Apparently I reminded him of his nephew that died in the military or something.”

“Jesus.”

A crease forms between Margo’s brows. She wishes she could say she didn’t understand the old man at church or the lady at Target, but she does. No, it’s not the poetry. It’s got nothing to do with words. 

It’s the way that Miles looks at people. 

Like he already knows all of your secrets, but you’re not worried because they’re safe with him, so might as well tell them. It’s a merciful sort of gaze; you get the impression that he won’t judge you. You might even tell him more after his friendly ‘boy-next-door’ voice coaxes them out of you. The thought unsettles her because she had done just that.

“You ever had a girlfriend before?” She asks, all of a sudden.

Miles shrugs, “Yeah, in tenth grade, then again freshman year. Didn’t really work out.”

“Why not?”

His brows furrow gently for just a second, as if he’s still trying to figure out the answer to that.

“I…don’t know, actually. It goes well the first few months and then…”

“It fizzles out?”

“I get ghosted. Something about how they’re ‘not ready’. Understandable, I guess, but you don’t have to ghost me, y’know?”

He awkwardly examines his fingers, then his glass. 

Margo feels a bit guilty for suddenly bringing up his exes when they’d just met. Would they end up the same way? She saw herself there too, being in a relationship for six months before his weird pastor’s eyes get to be a bit too much and she takes off.

“Yikes, sorry I asked.”

“It’s no problem,” a smile starts to return to his face. “Onto better things, right?”

“Right.”

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“You ever been in a relationship before?”

Margo smiles awkwardly and messes with one of her fingernails.

“Well…not exactly.”

Miles’ eyes widen.

“Never?”

“I mean, guys offer, and then we talk for a little bit, but then…”

“They flake out on you.”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn shame,” he says with a bit of sharpness to his voice. “Not even a first date?”

“Nope, just ‘Read at 4:15’.”

“You know what I think it is?”

Just as he asks this, his knee brushes against her thigh. Margo isn’t sure if it’s an accident, but it distracts her nonetheless.

“What?”

“You’re too smart for them, I can tell. It scares ‘em.” But it doesn’t scare me, is the suggestion.

He smiles then, the kind that shows the whiteness of his teeth on every vowel. It’s wide enough that a dimple comes out of hiding on his left cheek, and she suddenly wants to tell him everything again. She takes another sip of wine.

“So! What’d I miss?”

Zoe finally returns from ordering their sushi at the front with an expectant grin. Miles still hasn’t taken his eyes off of her friend, while she is staring at him like a string of code, which, if you know Margo, is better than nothing.

“You didn’t miss much,” says Margo. “We were just talkin’ about our majors. School stuff.”

Miles checks his phone and lets out a low whistle.

“Well, it was lovely meeting y’all, but I gotta bounce. After getting dragged onstage, I get to be dragged over to a house party, too.”

Just as he rises from his seat, he stops and points at her.

“Before I go, though, d’you mind giving me your digits? I’d love to talk about, uh…computer science…over lunch.”

She snorts, “Who still says ‘digits’?” but hands him her phone anyway. 

It couldn’t hurt to try. 

“Sure.”

His eyes light up as if he wasn’t expecting her to say yes as he saves his number as ‘poetry slam guy’ in her phone, then hands it back.

“Cool,” Miles begins his walk towards the entrance backwards, holding eye contact for just a little longer before turning around. “G’night!”

“Goodnight!” the two women call out in unison as he leaves.

Margo looks to her left at the now-empty bar stool. The glass of wine Miles left on the counter is full, completely untouched.

It’s still on her mind as she's sitting in her single dorm room, re-writing her lecture notes on cyber security in a meticulous neat print that could almost pass for a font.

Every few minutes her pen stops because she’s distracted by the sound of clinking glass in boxes downstairs, or because she pauses to stare at the white wall in front of her that brings to mind one of the lines of Miles’ poem. 

There might be a spider that I can’t see sitting ten feet away from me right this second, she muses to herself. The thought gives her an idea, and the perfect excuse to call him without seeming too desperate.

Margo unlocks her phone and scrolls through her contacts. She smiles to herself at the contact name Miles chose. Did he think she’d forget his name that easily? 

His voice soon filters through the speaker.

“Hey, you didn’t throw out my number!”

“Yup, lucky you.” she replies. “I wanted to ask you a question? About your poem the other night.”

“What about it?”

“See, I was thinking about that first line. Are we really never more than ten feet away from a spider? Like, at any given moment?”

There’s a moment of silence from Miles before he asks:

“You…called me just to ask me that?”

“What? It’s a very pressing issue! There’s probably one in the corner  of my room as we speak!”

“Alright, I’ll humor you,” Miles laughs. “That’s actually a myth from the 90s. Your distance from the nearest spider really depends on where you’re at, so if you’re in a spot with hella bugs, you’re more likely to see one. You’re probably fine.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Margo gasps dramatically. “So you lied to all those poor folks in there?”

“Sure did. Played ‘em all like a fiddle.”

“Terrible.”

“So, why’d you really call? You don’t sound as concerned about spiders as you say you are, if I’m being honest.”

So much for an excuse.

“Don’t nothing get past you, huh?”

This earns a burst of laughter from Miles’ end.

“You’re a worse liar than me, I wouldn’t recommend making it a habit.”

“Ugh, fine,” Margo admits,  “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You could hear my voice in real life, you know. Offer’s still on the table, and I’m free today.”

Their second conversation, and already a lunch date? But as she’s reminded of what his voice sounds like, she quickly realizes that just the voice is not enough. 

Still, she tries to sound casual and makes a non-committal noise.

“Better than being cooped up in my room all day.”

“Great! Where you wanna go?”

Margo shrugs as if he can see her on the other end.

“Wherever you wanna go.”

“Ah, the ‘wherever you wanna go’ paradox,” he chuckles. “Okay, well–lemme ask you this then. Do you like eating with or without music?”

There’s a beat of silence as she considers.

“Hm…is the music good?”

“I’d never subject anyone to a place that plays shit music. Promise.”

“Music, then.”

“Cool, what time works for you?”

“How does two sound? I’ll catch you in front of the Engineering Library.”

“Bet. See you in an hour, then!”

-

The place Miles chose had a live band playing at the front.

A bass player, a keyboard pianist, a saxophonist, and a few background vocalists on occasion. All are propelled forward by the rapid-fire snare of the drummer. It’s jazz - the easy, conversational kind you hear in the background of 90s romantic comedies where the love interest wears nothing but dark lip liner and filled-in brows with a bit of smokey eyeshadow in the crease.

This is the look that Margo has decided to go for as she sits across from Miles at a mahogany table positioned ideally by the window.

It was all she could do other than frantically adjust the braided 'fro-hawk sitting atop her head and spin around in a mist of ‘Champagne Toast’ before bolting out the door.

She doubts he can even smell it right now through the curry and garlic.

“Figured out what you want yet?” Miles asks as he looks over his menu at Margo.

“Eh, I dunno,” she replies, running her index finger down her own menu. “I’m tryin’ not to blow half my paycheck on pasta right now.”

Miles gives her a strange look, then it clicks.

“Oh! Lunch is on me,” he laughs. “Your bank account’s safe for now.”

Her head snaps up.

“You should’ve mentioned that! I thought we were going half and half this whole time, I had my whole budget for the week planned out.”

Margo has to hold back an ugly cackle at the look of horror on Miles’ face right after she says this.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.”

With this new information in mind, she orders a bowl of chicken alfredo with a glass of lemonade that she sips on as the band seamlessly transitions into a cover of Solange’s ‘Cranes in the Sky’.

“So, Margo,” Miles rests his chin on his knuckles and squints his eyes comically. 

“If that is your real name.”

Margo giggles, and plays along.

“It’s not, it’s my alter-ego for when I go on top-secret missions.”

“Is it short for something? Or just Margo?”

“Hm,” she puts on an affected, ‘action movie’ voice, “If I tell you, I might have to kill you.”

“It’s worse ways to die out there.”

Margo looks around her as if to make sure no one’s listening, then leans in.

“It’s short for Marguerite.”

Miles snaps his fingers.

“I knew it!”

“What? You think I look like a Marguerite? Seriously?”

“No, but you got a lil’ country twang in your voice. Ain’t no way in hell Margo wasn’t short for something.”

“Man, alright,” she laughed. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” he winked, “I like ‘em country.”

“Boy, don’t give me that! You look like you’d pass out at the sight of a jar of pig’s feet.”

“Hey now, I got family in South Carolina. I used to go down there and see about ten of those every summer.”

“Fine, but you were still raised a Northerner. I could hear the Brooklyn from a mile away.”

Miles removed his hand from under his chin to clutch his chest.

“Ugh, I feel like I’m caught between two worlds!”

The reference to one of the more choice lines from the poetry slam makes Margo snort and let out a loud guffaw, which she quickly muffles with the palm of her hand.

“Why would you remind me of that!”

Miles is soon infected by the fit of laughter and has to put all his strength into not doubling over at the table and drawing attention.

“This nigga said,” he wheezed, “ ‘I keep doing the Achy Breaky to Suavemente!’ “

“I thought I was the only one who thought that shit sucked,” Margo sighed as she wiped a tear from her eye. “But I didn’t wanna be mean ‘cuz I’m not like, half Puerto Rican, or anything like that.”

“Well I am, and that whole poem felt like a microaggression. And I knew that guy!” He starts gesturing wildly with his hands at the outrage, which Margo finds hilarious. 

“He's like, one-eighth Boricua. His last name is fuckin’ Schwartz!” Miles scoffs, “He don’t know shit about no damn ‘Suavemente’. Bet he looked it up.”

“You should write your own poem, then. ‘Take up space’, as they say.”

“Hell no,” he said. “I left that behind in high school. The other night was an exception, remember?”

“Look, I’m not one to encourage more people to become poets, but you never know. Something might inspire you.”

Miles calms down and gives her a meaningful look.

“Maybe.”

The rest of the conversation saw Miles slyly gathering intel through bites of roasted chicken. He’d quickly learned from their meeting at the bar that his line of questioning with Margo ought to be less direct.

He even hit her with the ‘what’s your sign’ question, though Biggie would’ve advised against it (Margo was a Libra, he was a Leo). He didn’t actually care for astrology, but Margo wasted no time in proclaiming that she couldn’t stand Scorpios because they were ‘too nosy’. 

Miles’ only error was asking if she’d ever dated–correction–spoken to one, and her eyes hardened with suspicion again. He quickly elected to change the subject.

“Okay, totally random question, but humor me. How do you like your eggs?”

Margo blinks twice.

“What?”

“You heard me. You can tell a lot about a person by what kinda eggs they like, true shit.”

“Alright, fine. I like ‘em fried, with the crispy edges. What that say about me?”

“I dunno, but when I find out it’ll all make sense.”

Margo laughs.

“Okay, well, how do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled, fluffy,” A childish grin spread across Miles’ lips. “And seasoned with Adobo to make ‘em all orange.”

“Never had ‘em like that before.”

“Maybe I could make some for you sometime, if you’d let me.”

“Maybe.”

She remembers his promise a month later when she wakes up to the aroma of the seasoning and hears the pop of frying oil, letting out a sigh of relief at the realization that Miles is still there.

His back is facing her when she enters the kitchen, the morning light illuminating a tattoo she had never seen before. 

It’s a spider with sprawling legs that cascade all the way down the expanse of skin, the movement of his shoulder blades bringing them partially to life. She hadn’t noticed it in the dark, and he was not one to walk around in anything revealing enough for it to have ever seen daylight. It’s faded, which means he’s likely had it for years.

He’s only twenty-one, she thinks. Did he get it in high school?

Amusement creeps onto Margo’s face at the image of Miles sneaking around the house, darting in and out of the bathroom to clean it without his hawk-eyed mother or straight-edged father taking notice. Picturing this, it’s suddenly much easier to believe that their son would have to beg and plead for them to send him a measly forty-six miles away for school, even for an Ivy League. 

Miles doesn’t turn around yet, but Margo catches the way he stops, tilting his head playfully and placing a hand on his hip.

“Man, I can’t believe I’mma have to eat this whole thing of scrambled eggs all by myself, with the ones I just fried! How sad.” “You’re not very funny,” Margo says with a smile, pulling out a chair from beneath the dining table.

He switches the stove off, then does a dramatic spin to face her with fake surprise on his face.

“Oh! Where’d you come from? I didn’t see you there.”

He turns back around to grab two plates–ceramic ones, not the stack of styrofoam ones–from one of the cupboards to serve the eggs in, starting with fried.

Margo watches him silently. The tiny, squint-or-you-might-miss-it gold chain around his neck catches the light as he moves, and she remembers feeling the cold metal brush across her lips.

“The fried ones, are they–”

“Crispy at the edges?” he finishes, with a smile in his voice. “Yes ma’am!”

“You could really be a detective, can’t get nothing past you.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“See?”

The two burst into laughter, and the ink on Miles’ back does also. His poem was accurate, in a way. For the past five weeks, Margo has been no more than ten feet away from a spider.

They have a brief and quiet breakfast, wherein Margo finally asks to try the scrambled eggs and is delighted by the burst of flavor added by the Adobo. They aren’t too dry or too soggy the way they tend to be in restaurants - just fluffy, as promised. She thinks it might be time to finally start taking Miles at his word as she watches his back again while he’s washing dishes.

Once he is fully dressed and about to leave, Miles stops suddenly, as if he’s forgotten something. He reaches into the left pocket of his jacket and pulls out a neatly-folded sheet of paper, nervously running his other hand through the short dreads sitting atop his head.

“Before I leave, I, uh…I took your advice and wrote a lil’ something.”

He hands it to Margo, who takes it gingerly. 

“Well, good for you.”

“It’s been a while, so it’s kinda rough, but hopefully the sentiment is there.”

Miles plants a quick kiss on her cheek, and she smiles easily for once as opposed to the usual raised eyebrow.

“I’ll be sure to let you know if it is.”

Some time after he leaves, she finally sits down to read it while sipping on a cup of tea, because coffee wreaks havoc on her nerves. His handwriting is strange, overly graphic as if it’s the title card of a cartoon, but she reads it.

I know you don't like poetry 

but you said you liked mine,

and the way you sip your wine

has set my pen to paper,

so I hope 

you'll make another exception. 

You've already claimed

half of my sketchbook 

because I just can't get your eyes right.

I always make ‘em too soft,

or too round.

They don't pierce through me,

like they did when

you stared at me over your glass,

eyes narrowed.

When you search my face

and pick me apart,

I'd like to know what it is 

you're always searching for.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Unexpectedly Yours: Part 10

Fandom: Ted Lasso (Regency AU)

Pairing: Roy Kent x F!Reader

Summary: Lord Roy Kent still has yet to marry. He hates the notion that marriage is a way to ensure your status in society. You have delayed your debut to society for years because of the same idea. So what happens when two people who hate the idea of marriage are constantly drawn to each other?

Warning: Rupert Mannion and his grossness

Series Masterlist

Roy is frozen, seeing his former fiancé in front of him for the first time in years.

The woman gives a shy smile, "It's-It's nice to see you. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Roy continues to stare at the woman with a dumbfound look. You decided to step forward and curtsy, "Good evening, my lady. I'm Lady Y/N L/N."

Georgina bows, "Duchess Georgina of Cumberland."

"It's an honor to be here with you, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Lady L/N. I hope you and Lord Kent enjoy your night," the duchess picks up her dress and continues to wander the ballroom.

"Roy?" you look at the man with concern.

"I need air," he grumbles and turns on his heel, heading towards the gardens without a care of if you were following him or not.

You hurry behind your future husband and out the door towards the gardens. As soon as the cool air hits, you gasp at the crispness. You stay behind Roy and take in his state. He's tense, his fists are clenched into tight fists.

You carefully and cautiously make your way up to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm, "Do you want to talk about it?"

At your touch, his shoulders slump, "Did you know she and I were engaged?"

You nod, "I heard rumors. You were in love and then she caught the eye of Duke Rupert Mannion of Stratford. She broke off the engagement. They were married a month later."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He turns to you, brows furrowed in confusion, "Are you not upset?"

"Why would I be?"

"That I still feel this way about her?"

You shrug, "I suppose I understand why you're taken back by her presence. She's caused you a great deal of pain. You loved her and she hurt you."

He nods, "I did love her," he slips his hand into yours, "But not like how I love you."

You feel your chest swell and you softly smile at him, "I'll admit that does make me feel very prideful."

He chuckles and leans in, kissing your head, "I'll be okay. Promise. She just took me by surprise. Besides, I'm sure her presence along with the Duke's will take the attention away from us, hm?"

You let out a deep breath, "God, I hope so."

____________________________

You were actually enjoying yourself. Roy danced with you as many times as you liked and kept by your side at all times. Only twice did he let you out of his sight and it was so that Jamie could dance with you.

Fortunately, as Roy would hope, the presence of the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland took the spotlight away from you and Roy. However, you couldn't help but catch a few ladies whispering about Roy's previous engagement to Georgina. It took every bit of you to not scold the women for gossiping about your future husband. Again, you didn't want to bring attention to yourself tonight, so you refrained yourself from doing so.

You and Roy were having some polite chatter with Lady Rebecca Welton, the hostess of tonight's ball, when a man came up to her.

"Becca, darling, thank you again for the invite of tonight. My lovely duchess and I have had a wonderful time."

You can see how uncomfortable Lady Rebecca felt, yet she smiled, "Of course, Rupert. It's been wonderful to see you and the duchess."

Rupert then turns to you, "Oh hello," he shoots you a grin that makes you incredibly uncomfortable, "Rupert Mannion, Duke of Stratford."

You curtsy, "Lady Y/N, your grace."

The older man notes your arm around Roy's and his grin grows, "Oh. She yours, Kent?"

"We're engaged, yes," Roy responds plainly.

Rupert chuckles, "Interesting. Thought you'd never marry after I stole my lovely Gina's heart."

Your eyes shoot to Georgina and she winces, placing a hand on the duke's arm, "Darling, why don't we get some air?"

The man pushes her off, "I don't need air."

"I want some air, darling."

Rupert sighs, "Very well." He gives Roy and Lady Rebecca a nod and you a wink, before dragging Georgina to the gardens for air.

Once out of earshot, Roy turns to Rebecca and says, "I can't believe you were married to that prick."

"Roy! You can't-wait," you look at Rebecca, "You were married to him?!"

Lady Rebecca nods, "Unfortunately. He wasn't all bad at first. I genuinely did love him, but things changed. He changed. Then he saw Georgina and he had our marriage annulled. I suppose they deserve each other with how they left Roy and I in the dust."

You try to gather your thoughts from the information you just received, "Wait. You and Rupert were married. Then he met Georgina, who was engaged with Roy. Then Rupert had your marriage annulled, Georgina broke off the engagement with Roy, and they end up marrying each other."

Roy nods, "Correct."

"Yes, that sounds about right," Rebecca says before sipping more of her lemonade.

You shake your head in disbelief, "That's...awful."

Lady Rebecca sighs, nursing her lemonade, "Yes, well, everything happens for a reason, right? I'm fine and Roy is marrying you," she leans closer to you and murmurs, "Congratulations, by the way," and shoots you a wink.

"Thank you, Lady Rebecca" you respond.

She waves off the formalities, "Please, just Rebecca is fine." She lifts her glass up to Roy, "Kent, treat her well."

"Will do," he grunts in response and watches as Rebecca waltzes away to continue to mingle with her guests.

"She's lovely. Doesn't seem to very traditional, hm?"

"Not at all," Roy says as he places his hand on your lower back and guides you to Keeley and Jamie, whom seem to be in a heated discussion with one another.

You quicken your step to join your friends, "You lot look like a bunch of gossiping mamas."

Keeley smirks, "To be fair, we were gossiping."

"About?" Roy asks curiously with a thick cocked brow.

"You, m'Lord," Jamie responds with a grin, "And the grand duke and duchess."

Roy rolls his eyes, "I'm fine."

Jamie shrugs, "Didn't ask if you were fine. Just gossiping."

Your future husband's jaw clenches and takes a step towards Jamie, but you step in, "He's just joshing, love."

He immediately looks to you, "Love?"

You immediately feel flustered, "I-I'm sorry. I'll just call you Roy-"

"No, no. Love is fine," his gaze is soft and you feel that light fluttering inside your chest again.

[footballffbarbiex]

player: John Stones (and a long cameo from Dias) words: 981 request: John Stones - you / your - 500 - 750 words - As I'm terribly shy and introvert, I was 🤔 if you could write sth about you and him going to a Xmas/NYE party and you struggle in fitting in and doing small talk but he helps you throughout the night and he's so careful

You stand nervously, fingers alternating between clutching and playing with your glass. John isn’t standing with you, but you’d also stressed to him that you didn’t want him to feel as though he needed to babysit you. And while it may have taken a few attempts to push him away from you, John had reluctantly moved away and engaged in conversations with some of his teammates and here you are, standing awkwardly both hoping you had someone to talk to and praying that no-one does just so you don’t have to talk while panicking. 

Wishing you could pull out your phone to give you some distraction, you take another drink instead and glance back around you. Some of the faces here are familiar, and though some of the women close by have spoken to you a handful of times at matches for both club and country, there’s no real familiarity there to enable neither you nor them to come and strike up conversation. You’ve had a few conversations, more small talk than anything, but you haven’t always been standing or sat away from everyone. 

“I’ve been sent to rescue you,” Rúben says as he appears at your side, making you jump slightly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” he gives you a warm smile and for the first time since John left you, you feel settled. “Drink?” He offers you a flute of something sparkling and you graciously accept. 

“Rescue me from who?”

“Yourself. Don’t give me that look, I’ve been watching you too. Come my little bird, there’s food over there and I’m hungry.” he says this part loud enough for anyone close by to be listening. When he drops his voice he adds, “John’s stuck talking to someone and needs you as a diversion.”

“Oh, I have to rescue him but he couldn’t do the same.” You challenge as the two of you begin to walk. 

“Thought you didn’t want a babysitter?” Rúben replies quickly and you feel heat begin to burn at your cheeks. “Yeah, he told me. Do you want one?” he asks and gestures to the stack of plates. You shake your head and he picks one up for himself. “I get it, I don’t like these things either.” he confesses, scanning over the table and selecting a few pieces of food to add to his plate. “Especially since becoming single. It’s just you in the spotlight and everyone is looking at you. She was amazing at making me feel calm and as though no-one else was paying attention to us. Something tells me you know how that feels.” It’s not a question and yet it feels a little like one. 

“I get envious of how John can step into a room and just… be John. I’m rehearsing lines in my head before anyone has even spoken to me and more often than not, I don’t even need to use those because no-one speaks to me.”

“I’m speaking to you.” Rúben states, giving your hand a little squeeze before turning away from the buffet now he’s happy with his food haul and begins to make his way, with you in tow, towards John. “If you ever need someone, come and get me.”

“You’re a good man Rú.”

“I know.” he flashes a grin and instead of verbally responding, you swipe something from his plate and eat it with much enthusiasm. 

“Hey!” John beams at you as you approach, his arm reaching out to pull you as close to his body as he can without it seeming too inappropriate. “I missed you,” he mutters into your hair as he places a little kiss into your hair. 

If Rúben had calmed you previously, then John has sedated you. Just having one arm around you, the feel of your body moulding to his, taking in a scent that is only John as well as the scent of his aftershave is enough to leave you feeling content again. 

“He was just speaking about you,” the man standing with John says. His expression is a happy one, there’s no malice in his tone and yet there’s a little panic that begins to rise up in you. 

“Oh is that so?”

“I was talking about the promotion you earnt.” 

Earnt. Not given. John always made sure to use vocabulary that credited you at all times but hearing it tonight made your stomach flip. When you look back at John, he beams down at you with an expression of love and adoration. He had no reason to speak of you when you weren’t close by, but to hear that he was? It made you feel good. 

“Congratulations. Does it come with a bigger responsibility list? I imagine it would.” 

It’s a topic that you weren’t expecting and in a way, talking about yourself makes you feel a little nervous even if it’s an easy topic. Rúben remains with you both, and though each person chimes in at the right moments, John lets you take the heat off him and you find yourself shedding the anxiety the longer the conversation continues. You wouldn’t say you’re “cured” for the night, but he’s making it easier. When Rúben speaks, it continues to keep the mood light and the conversation just as much so. 

Every so often you feel some small gesture from him. A light touch on your arm, a gentle stroke of the small of your back, fingers and thumb at your elbow when he reaches around you for something. Nothing too much, but enough to let you know quietly that he’s thinking of you, he wants to interact but he’s letting you have this moment. This isn’t babysitting and you realise this now, it’s him bringing you to the right people and him trying to gently guide you out of the shell you’ve been hiding in. And this is what you love about him.

[mingsoooo]

Friends Forever

Chapter 1. Why friend's breakup

Warning: mentions of drinking

Author notes: It's the very first chapter of the series! This would be a short series and although the first chapter may not be as fun, I hope you will stay. With that said,letchugo!

"Are you guys no more friends? That sucks"

That was the day Y/N's first best friend left high school—the first betrayal and the first awareness. After that, one by one, each of her friends started to leave her until she was completely isolated; meanwhile, Jake, who was the cause of all her misery, lived oblivious, loved by everyone. 

~

"Y/N! Have you completed the assignments for the next class?" Gauel rummaged through her tote, looking for the printed papers. 

"Yep, barely, though. Still have quite a lot of things to catch up on. Vacations have made me so lazy," Y/N whined while placing the neat papers on the cafeteria table. 

"Uh, you bish." Gauel lightly fisted her hand on Y/N's shoulder, making both giggle. Although they had only been friends from the first day of the first semester, it was more genuine than any of her past friendships. 

"Hey, it's not my fault that you were lazy." Before Y/N could complete her sentence, a group of men and women started to shout as if celebrities had stepped inside. As the girls looked towards the source of the shouts, they saw a group of seven men, but a face stood out even amongst them.

"Jake," y/n whispered, which made Gauel give a slight glance at her friend. 

What was he doing there?! 

"You know that group?" 

"Huh? No" Y/N denied it after all; apart from Jake, she knew nothing at all. 

"Well, that's... surprising. They are the Uni Boy Band and are super popular. All the seniors, juniors, and even the teachers like them. Though very few are close friends with up. Kind of unexpected, especially since they are literally in the limelight."

As Gaeul spilled the tea, the bell rang, reminding them of the upcoming lecture. 

"Oh shoot!" She stopped her words and started to look for the papers again while Y/N packed her bag. 

Surprise would be a big word. She had long known that he was well loved. Ever since she was a kid, Jake took the spotlight. He was the intelligent child, the loveable, the handsome, while in the ocean of people, Y/N had lost herself. She tried her best, did the most she could, and tried to be loveable, but it was like adding water to sand. 

For once, she wanted to be the first, not the second. So she had simply cut off her friendship, so then why did he have to join the same university as her? Why couldn't he just give her some peace? Just the thought brought displeasure to her lips.

Thus, they headed to the lecture room.  ~

"Jake, your coffee is getting cold," Jungwon reminded Jake. He was the first to notice the multiple fluctuations of the members. Jake turned a deaf ear to his words and continued to look at the distant corner of the cafeteria where two young women were seated. They... were laughing. 

"Earth to Jake." Jay waved his hand on Jake's face with a grumpy bite of the pizza, which made him turn towards the group. They were seated at a joint table, and all his bandmates circled it. Besides him were Sunghoon and Niki, the introverts of the group. They had ordered plenty of food, but Jake would never have expected to see his childhood friend amidst the crowd, and just when he had slightly locked eyes with her, there was displeasure on her lips. 

"What happens? You seemed lost there." Heesung commented in between bites of the tacos. While Jake continued to seem in a daze. If he is not wrong, Y/N too was in the university, and yet it took him two semesters to notice. 

"Nothing much." He decided to brush off the feeling like he always did while the six men of his group rolled their eyes. 

"Hyung, you should eat fast. Your lecture might start any minute," Niki commented. 

"Oh yeah..." Jake started to gobble up his dumplings as if there was no tomorrow. Since it had been about a month since he last joined the classes, there was too much to catch up. Perhaps he would need to use the library. 

Jake completely devoured the meal, and just as he was about to leave the room, Jungwon reminded him, "Don't forget to attend the party tonight. It's a special one," and with that, Jake left.  ~  "Ting" Gauel's phone buzzed as she was commuting home with Y/N. The sun had yet to set, but it was past the afternoon. 

As Gaeul checked her phone, an amalgamation of surprise, joy, and astonishment covered her face. She took a sharp inhale while turning towards Y/N. "Wanna go to the party? It's a special one. Only a few are invited, and drinks are free," she winked at the final words. 

"...."

"Ya,!"

"Definitely will, especially for those free drinks," Y/N winked back, which brought a big, gummy smile to Gaeul's face. 

"Then let's go!"  ~

The party was more like a private club than a frat party. It was high-end with all the dim LED deep blue and purplish lights and the leather couch. There were five different serving bartender stands and a very small amount of people. 

Y/N and Gaeul were dressed in an opposite aesthetic. While Gaeul wore an off-the-shoulder white dress, Y/N wore an off-the-shoulder black dress with a dainty heart necklace. Under the dim lights, both the girls drank the liquor. 

Besides them were a few people who as well were enjoying the free drinks. 

---  "Gurl! It's such an awesome party!" Y/N hugged Gauel while having a glass of wine in her hands. It took no genius mind to realize that Y/N had become drunk, while the female incarnation of Dionysus Gauel seemed completely sober. 

"Told you it was worth it!"

"Indeed." Y/N raised her empty glass and summoned the bartender, asking for another cup of beer. 

"Good evening, beautiful," a man approached Y/N. He wore a casual suit. The necktie was loosely hung, and the first two buttons were opened. He held her hand and kissed its back while those midnight eyes gazed at her face. Behind him, another man approached them as well. He was slightly taller and held close eye contact with Gauel. 

"Gu-good evening" Y/N wetted her dry lips while looking away. She was drunk, and her ears felt hot. Her eyes could barely decipher the man before her; all she knew was that he was handsome. "Who are you?" She tried to act as sober as possible, missing out on the subtle smirk on the man's face. 

"Just call me Sunghoon," the smile on his lips was evident. While he had his fingers on his cheeks, admiring the girl before him. 

"Sunghoon huh? It's a pretty name," she said sheepishly. Her eyelids started to get heavy, and as the man named Sunghoon replied to her, Y/N closed her eyes, soon falling to slumber amid a conversation she wholeheartedly wanted to continue.

[ecargmura]

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End Episode 20 Review - An Actual Cliff In A Cliffhanger

This episode legit ends with a cliff showing up, so it’s a cliffhanger! …I am sorry for the awful dad joke. Anyways, the first selection continues as we learn more about the other mages. I think that learning more about the other mages is a nice add in because the mages from Wirbel’s group and Denken’s group are most likely going to be recurring characters later on in this arc. They are totally not going to fail the first selection; they have way too much focus to be taken out of the spotlight this soon.

Let’s talk about Wirbel’s group first. Wirbel is surprisingly a nice guy underneath his scary demeanor. He knows how to kill and has killed women and children before, but he knows when he should and shouldn’t do so. He had a flashback of his time as a mercenary of the Northern Magic Corps. It was a cruel job as he had to kill so many innocent lives in addition to killing demons. Yet, he did it all because he had a crush on someone and promised that he’d make the world a better place when they meet again. Seeing how he is similar yet different from Ubel really makes him stand out. I can’t wait to see more of him later on. I really liked the scene where he fell for Fern’s bluff when she was pointing her staff at him.

Poor Ehre. She was valedictorian of her class at a prestigious magic school, but she lost to Fern, the girl who was basically homeschooled all her life. Imagine being someone who has a Bachelors, Master’s and PhD and then losing a huge job opportunity to someone who only had a high school diploma. Would that be a big kick in the face for the most educated person? That’s what Ehre’s situation was. She lost to Fern, who was trained under Frieren, but never having a proper formal education in an academic institution. If I was Ehre, I’d be ashamed; I hope that this would be a moment for her to become humble, not that she wasn’t.

Scharf has a cool ability, but he doesn’t have much spotlight. He is able to solidify flower petals and turn them into magic. He gets knocked out by Land and then wasted so much mana that he had to get floated around by Wirbel. I think that showcasing Scharf and Land’s abilities at the same time was a smart idea because it shows how different they fight as mages. Land is someone who has trust issues, so he summons clones of himself to fight in his place and deceive enemies while the real him can take shots when the enemy is distracted. Out of the two mages, Land’s magic is the most terrifying.

Now for Denken’s group, Lauren’s magic is Jilwer, an ancient spell that gives the user super sonic speed. Since she’s still a novice, she’s not good at concealing her mana when using it yet, so that’s why she’s backing out of the upcoming fight; she did steal Frieren’s stille, though. Richter’s magic seems to be manipulating Earth? Either that or he can create tremors. I can’t tell. However, he’s the most sadistic of the group as he wanted to kill either Lawine or Kanne when Denken told him not to as both are still kids and knocking them out is more efficient. When Denken said that, I instantly liked him because he’s honest and has morals. He’s still an enemy, but he’s an honorable kind of person. He wants to fight Frieren and I can’t wait to see what sort of spells he has.

The scenes with Genau and Sense are interesting as Genau purposely proctored an exam where people will be killed to prove to see who is qualified to become a First-Class mage. I do wonder if Sense is the girl that Wirbel had a crush on.

Now, there’s a bit of foreshadowing of an elf called Serie; I’m using “they” because I have no idea of they’re male or female. They’re an elf who knows practically everything in the entire world. Given how they are described, I feel like they are older than Frieren. I honestly can’t wait to meet this character. It’s not often you see an elf much older than Frieren; Kraft is older than her, but Serie feels like prehistoric.

I know that it’s already been three episodes since the first selection has started. I do wonder how many more episodes it’ll take. Hopefully, it won’t drag out too much. I’m mostly anticipating the clash between the two senior citizens next episode. The showdown of the century! What are your thoughts on this episode?

[loopsisloops]

I'm not sorry I still believe in love

Last year I was talking with some coworkers during our closing shift. The conversation jumped from topic to topic and then Janice [fake name] asked "Hey [Me], do you have boyfriend?" I said, "No, I've actually never had one." These women are all twice my age. I've known them for a few years now and I wouldn't say we're close friends or even best friends but I'm chill with them and trust them enough to know they would take a punch for me. They're a little confused about my answer and continue to press.

And before you say anything, yes we talk about nsfw topics at work sometimes so the beginning of this conversation wasn't really anything out of the ordinary for me. I stay in my lane and tune it out most of the time anyway. The spotlight was bound to land on me at some point. Alexa [fake name] yells from across the floor, "But you've at least fucked, right?" "No. I have not." I say a little quieter. Jane [fake name], pops her head in from around the corner, "What about a blowjob?" "No." "Handjob??" Alexa raises her hands above the endcap does a stroking motion with her hands. "Nope." Alexa has a quizzical look on her face and says, "You're a cutie, what do you mean you've never gotten down like that girl?" Jane hums in a agreement and adds "Yeah I mean, I lost my virginity at 16." You and I had very different bodies at 16 Jane. But, okay. Alexa leaves her cart of things in the aisle and makes her way over to where Jane, Janice, and I are by the registers. "If I were gay or bi or a man, girl I'd definitely go for yah." Alexa winks at me. I give her a deadpan look, "Thanks Alexa." Janice continues to count the money from the register, "But why?" I look back at Janice. "Why haven't you?" I think for a moment. "I don't know...I just haven't really met someone. I'm waiting for the right person y'know?" They all laugh and now it's my turn to act confused. Janice speaks up again, "Ohhhh I see. So you're still waiting for your knight in shining armor, is that right?" Jane chuckles, "To be saved and whisked right off your feet?" Alexa leans into Janice and says "Oh knock it off, she's still young." Janice hums in agreement, "Yeaah, life hasn't broken her yet. It's okay, soon enough you'll realize people are terrible, and princes don't exist, you'll see."

In the moment I just laughed all of this off but I knew, deep down, they were wrong. I shouldn't feel stupid for having a little hope...

I don't blame them for thinking like this. I know each of them have had their struggles. Teen pregnancy, loss, life has thrown enough shit at them for them to have these points of views be justified. But to say "don't worry life will break you soon enough." The thing is, life has. Time and time again. Believe me. It has.

I'm not sorry I still think love is real. I am, however, sorry life was not kind enough to you to keep believing in it.

[gibor-zolel]

Let's Wrestle! Wayne x F! Reader

Words: 3.8k

Warnings/Tags: Powerful build, mystical, book smart, Wayne is an angel truther, gets bizarre and mildly nsfw at the end, sex with an eldritch being.

Songs used were Lecha dodi and Song of Songs 7

A chilling breeze brushed against your skin, tingling your senses and making small bumps as you watched Tabitha and Stella reconnect from afar.  They had been talking for a good while when Tabby put a comforting hand on Stella as the audacious yet seemingly fickle woman shifted closer to her ex-friend, ex-lover, ex something.

You couldn’t overhear what was being said but it felt as if whatever burdens the two women shared had been lifted, if only for a moment under the quiet moon.  The luminous light shined above them; a spotlight centered only on them and the rekindling of their flame

Yet here you wait…in the dark and alone.

(Mystical) Their souls are tied together once more.  Nothing will come between them again.  Not even if Pearlanne would wake from her slumber.

There it was again.  That gut instinct.  That sensation that told you more than your eyes, ears, nose, hands, ever could.  That gut instinct had pulled you into increasingly dangerous situations ever since you got here.

And now it was telling you that whatever hope you had of winning Stella over was gone.  She wasn’t yours.  Never could be.

Whatever. 

Tabitha still loved her and while you were a troublemaker you wouldn’t dream of making her more miserable than she already was.  After causing so much worry for her it felt wrong to come between the two.

Zipping your jacket close as another icy draft hit your face, you turned around and began heading home.  Dread washed through your spirit with each step towards the woods; knowing what was in them.

(Powerful build) Why were you even afraid?  Punching one of those parasites was akin to hitting play dough.  You could take em’.

"Come along now, it’s quite a hike back to the estate."

Wayne had suddenly appeared out of thin air and was standing directly in your path.  It hadn’t even been twenty steps away and here he was.  The smell of decay assaulted your senses whenever he got nearby.

“Holy shit you scared me!  Why do you always do that?  And back up man!  Your stench is getting worse!”

Wayne emitted that uncanny cough; which to your guess was his version of a chuckle.

“I thought you had moved past your fear.  You should know I’m always near you even if you can’t see me.”

Rolling your eyes as you regarded the definitely not human entity, you crossed your arms and huffed.

“It’s not about being scared of you, I just don’t like being snuck up on!  If you’ve been watching me all this time you should know that.”

(Powerful Build) Your muscles were still tense from being startled, fingers ever so slightly tingling and spasming with desire to go punch or wrestle this fear out of you.

(Mystical) It doesn’t matter how many reps you do or how heavy you can lift; your soul is frightened and no amount of mass can conquer the mind.

“Your heart is palpitating…. it’s not good for you to be on edge…”

“Duh but it’s hard not to be anxious in this awful little town I’ve been pulled back too”

“You don’t have to help them…you can always stay in the estate like I asked of you.  These “people” are not your friends.  They’re parasites eating away at your body and soul.  You’ve continuously put your life on the line to help them despite my warnings."

Not this again.

“I know you like showing off for me.  Where would you even be if I wasn’t putting myself in danger?” Giving him a playful wink, your eyes traveled all over the figure standing before you.  The rot had gotten worse; and you struggled to remember what you had learned in forensic science class years ago.

(Book smart) Sam Wayne’s body was past the point of bloat but the livor mortis still patterns the body in bruise like marks.  He was in active decay now.  Yet there were no flies or maggots devouring his skin.  Perhaps even the pestilence feared whatever laid inside the carcass.

Part of it disgusted you, part of it excited you.  This unsettling yellow eyed freak had taken a liking to you for whatever reason and you were going to make it your mission to tease and taunt him.

“How come you hide your face from me?”

“You wouldn’t wish to see what’s underneath.”

“Nah.  You’re just shy, aren’t you?”

Wayne’s glowing dots shined through the veil but it said nothing.

“How tough are you anyway?”  Circling the thing that stood in your path, you wanted so badly to tackle him and wrestle him into the dirt.  No hint of malice in your body; just a need to unleash that nagging panic that lingered.  He, no…it; could take it; there would be no need to hold back out of fear of injuring your sparring partner.

“Encircling me like a starving beast will not increase your chances of killing me.  You cannot harm me.”  There was a subtle irritation in its voice.  This had been the first time the creature inhabiting Wayne’s body had showed any emotion and it was annoyed by you.

Without another word, you lunged at the figure, grabbed its right wrist and formed a pocket grip on the collar of its miners jacket.  An involuntary scrunch of your nose happened due to the proximity of death filling your nostrils. Wayne had jerked its head back, as if expecting a punch to the face rather than a vice grip on its wrist.

“Ha!  Did you flinch?  Who’s scared now?”  Confidence began to flow in increasingly zealous veins.  You could feel your veins expand and contract with adrenaline at the thought of rolling with a demon or whatever Wayne was now.

“Don’t.” Its voice dripped with less subtle irritation now. 

(Mystical) The entity’s aura is brimming with displeasure.  It would be unwise to push your protector too far.  Do you wish to drive everyone away?

“Geez man relax!” Taking your grips off of it, you stepped back and gave the entity a lopsided grin.

“I’m not trying to attack you!  I just wanna wrestle!  It’s not like I can hurt you anyways so what does it matter?  Sparring with someone brings you closer to the other person!  You get to see how the other person thinks in the heat of the moment and how their body reacts to pressure.  It’s the ultimate mind-body experience!  Come oonnnn!  Let’s wrestle!”

Wayne tilted its head to the side and stared at you through the veil covering its face, bright yellow pupils shined outward as it contemplated this.

Finally, it let out another coughing fit.  This one longer than the last as it seemed to be amused by this development.  Any trace of frustration was gone.

“I am glad you’re no longer afraid but you cannot hope to match me in such a way.  Let’s go, it’s getting late and you need your rest.”  Wayne's body turned around and started along the path to the estate.

Shoulders slumped down in disappointment at the rejection and you begrudgingly followed your silent stalker. 

“Obviously you’re just worried I might actually beat you and then you couldn’t be so condescending to me…” There was a need inside your soul to poke at Wayne's emotions.  A need to see it unravel before you and dispose of its stoic character.  Everyone had a breaking point, a line that shouldn’t be crossed.  You just wanted to figure out what that line was.  Push and see how far you could push before Wayne abandoned you.  Then again…did you truly want to cross that line?

Wayne didn’t bother responding.   

Dick.

Perhaps it would be better to question Wayne about everything that happened tonight.  At least to fill the void of silence in the forest.

“Did you know…Reese was like that?” Wayne had to have known right?  Why else would Reese be called a “thing”?

“I knew he was different.  How exactly, I wasn’t sure but now I know.”

Nodding your head, you looked out into the night sky, deep in thought.

“Thanks for looking out for me tonight.”

“Anytime you find yourself in danger, I will be there for you.  I will always be there for you.”

Really?  Always?  Wayne's words made a lump in your throat.  It felt as if you couldn’t breathe.  Someone…always being there for you?  Never to abandon you or hate you? 

No.  This spirit…entity…whatever it was didn’t mean that.  It couldn’t have.

Still the thought caused butterflies to flutter in your abdomen and your head felt fuzzy with an indescribable pleasure.  Its detached sonorous voice never failed to thrill you in all the wrong ways. 

Reaching out, you attempt to hold its hand.  Sure, it was probably all mushy or disgustingly cold but you needed to hold its hand.

Wayne pulled away and left you grasping for air. 

“A thoughtful gesture, but you don’t want to do that.  I wouldn’t wish to frighten you.”

Your heart sank and you gave him a pitiful look.

“I could never be afraid of you.  I know you’re not human but I still want you...”

Muscles began twitching again, the emotions were too much.  Why couldn’t you be stoic like Wayne?  It was so painful to care for others and be rejected, to not be enough.

“No need to fret, there will be a time and a place.”

Your spirit quickly lifted at those words but you couldn’t have guessed what would next leave the entity’s mouth.

“The bond we could share…” Its gaze titled upwards towards the stars, was it reminiscing on something?

After a moment its gaze drifted back to you.

“It would be deeper than any bond you could form with anyone else” The sentence left its rotting lips as if fact.  No room for argument.

Your stomach began to twist into knots, no longer that pleasant feeling of infatuation but a deep seeded insecurity creeping up.

The estate was within sight, it’s decaying yet powerful presence reminded you of Wayne. There was a thought haunting your heart ever since Wayne had rescued you from the library. 

“Don’t leave me tonight…please…I don’t want to be…alone.  Tabby doesn’t like me no matter how hard I try to connect with her.  I thought we were making progress but…I-I…I don’t know.  She says family matters to her but she acts like she hates me!”  Admitting that out loud hurt.  You had never gotten along with your mother so when Tabitha invited you to her mother’s funeral it felt like a chance to finally have a family.  Finally have someone who would love you no matter what.

But Tabitha didn’t love you either.

A single hot streak of water ran down your right cheek.  Oh, fuck were you crying?

(Book smart) Tears made from heartbreak contain stress hormones such as prolactin, potassium, and manganese.  Your body is attempting to soothe you.

Wayne stopped right outside the estates gates and looked back at you, still no emotion in its harrowing yellow eyes.

“Save your tears for yourself.  Cry, if you must relieve whatever is inside but don’t cry for someone else.  These miserable fleshlings are of no concern.  Cowardly, contumelious, thoughtless, arrogant, foolish, that’s all they are.”

Blinking away your tear, you gave Wayne a shocked looked.  It had said some callous things before but this?

“Did you just call my friends fleshlings?” Such an abrasive thing to say, it almost made cynical laughter erupt from your sore throat.

“Made from flesh and bone are they not?” The condescension in Wayne's voice would be miss able to anyone else but you.

“I-I-I thought I really bonded with Stella…I was gonna go to the general store tomorrow and pick her up some chocolates.  When I told her that I lived in an internet café she even suggested I could move in with her after Pearlanne’s funeral.  I thought maybe…m-maybe we c-c-could build something together.”  It sounded more inane as you choked back another stream of tears.

“Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce”

“I-what?  Are you serious?” What were you supposed to say to that?  Wayne always said the cruelest things so casually.  It had caught you so off guard you almost laughed.

“I’m very serious.  Look at yourself.  You’ve stained up the carpet with your tears.”

Wait you were inside the estate?  You hadn’t even noticed.  Looking down at the carpet, there it laid, dampness in a solitary spot, evidence of all the suffering this week had brought into your life.

“You’ve barely known these creatures for a week and you almost gave away years of your life for a piece of property.  And for what?  When you got home your cousin didn’t even believe you.  She’s been scornful by the thought of your very presence since she knew of your birth.”

This was too much.  Eyes closed shut as imagines of a happy family flooded your mind.  You wanted that so bad.

“I want to go to bed”

Wayne stepped forward, a piece of cloth in its hand, and wiped the moisture from your face as the two of you headed upstairs.  A strange and unexpected gesture.

Nothing but numbness flowed in your body as you deteriorated into the bumpy mattress.  Wanting this nightmare to be over with.

Wayne stood at the side of the bed and peered down at you.  The corpse was close yet there was no flinching at the stench anymore.

“Why are you still here?” The voice that escaped sounded nothing like your own.  It was too harsh, too broken, all too painfully human.

“You asked me to make sure you weren’t alone tonight so here I am.”

“Thanks…” Yet there was no trace of gratitude in your tone.  Not after what it had said to you.

Wayne, sensing this, loomed over your body and got uncomfortably close to your face.

“As I understand it; my candor may seem dismissive or unsympathetic to mortals such as yourself.  I only wish for you to see things as they are.  Not how you wish they were.”

“I get it man.  Please just let me sleep…”

But Wayne didn’t leave, instead it moved even closer and now you could no longer mentally block the putrid aroma.

“I could pay you a visit tonight in your dreams.  Would you like that?”

(Mystical) There is a foreboding intent behind this question.  If you say yes there’s no going back. 

Swallowing, you gazed into its piercing dots that made up its version of eyes.

“Yes”

Everything went black as sleep forced itself onto you, sinking into the mattress, the last thing your eyes witness were a glimmer of ecstasy in the spirit’s unrelenting gaze.

You were alone again, surrounded by the trees of the forest with no ditchlings in sight.  Looking up, there were no brilliant stars in the sky to look at, nor a reassuring moon to light your path. 

Instead, there were storm clouds gathering in the sky as lightning struck and faint sounds of thunder rumbled and echoed seconds after.  Taking a deep breath, you finally relaxed and hummed up at the heavens, taking in the moment. 

You loved storms ever since you were a child.  You vaguely remembered breaking out of the house one day while your mother was showering.  Using the books from your shelf you had crafted a stepping stool to reach the locks and raced outside to watch the lightning streak the dreary heavens.  There was something so mesmerizing about the thunderstorm, it called to your soul, beckoning you to witness it.  Your mother had pulled you back inside soon after, furious for putting yourself at risk.

A solitary light from across a riverside snapped you out of nostalgia.  Taking one step forward, then two, then three and without any more reluctance, legs began racing headfirst to greet it.

Approaching closer and closer to the light, you weren’t even sure what your eyes were witnessing.  Two radiant wing like appendages with hundreds of eyes sprawled over them stood alongside each other and a darkness was sheltered in the middle between them.  Two yellow dots examined you from the shadowy parts of the beast. 

(Mystical) It wishes to be witnessed.  To bare its soul in pleas of matrimony and covenant

Standing only a few lengths away, words couldn’t form in your spiraling mind.  This was a dream but it felt so physical, so real.

Still no words could find structure, so in the silence; it spoke for you, sang for you.  

“Come in peace, crown of her husband,

 Both in happiness and in jubilation;

 Come O Bride! Come O Bride!”

The voice sounded so commanding yet devoted in its praise and longings.  The rumbling vocals were unlike anything heard by human ears.

“Oh, so you’re cultured huh?” Small laughter found its way out at last.  You weren’t sure what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this.  “You have a lovely singing voice…”

“Come, my beloved, let us go out to the field, let us lodge in the villages,

 Let us rise early for the vineyards, let us see if the vine has blossomed,

 If the tender grapes have appeared, If the pomegranates are in bloom,

 There I will give my love to you”

Heat swelled up in your cheeks the more it sang to you.  Singing the song of songs no less.

The fields were full of pomegranate trees that came into flower.  Bright red and matured for harvesting.  Had they always been there?  Or had your subconscious formed them after hearing the melody?

Sighing, you came closer to the two yearning eyes sheltered in the darkness caused by its wings.  It was time to give your response.

“I am my beloved’s, and his desire is upon me”

Laughter emitted from the shades.  No coughing this time, rather this was its true voice, untethered by the vocals of a rotting body.  “The song is out of order…but that’s fine.”

Lighting flashed and thunder roared over the looming clouds as the darkness began creeping in to surround the two souls, forcing you to get closer to avoid being swallowed up by the storm.  Wayne’s presence became more terrible as you neared it, the blackness sheltered by its wings could no longer hide its form from your mortal eyes.  The darkness bowed before such divinity.

A body or what resembled a body was kneeling in front of you.  Interweaving ribbons of lightning shaped its torso, hands, legs, everything.  In between the electricity were rotating eyes that directed all of their attention to you.  It looked more like an eldritch nervous system than a fully fleshed out frame.  Yet in its center there was a luminous shape that you could only guess were its lungs “breathing” in and out.  Its head was much like the rest of its body except only two eyes were embedded on instead of hundreds.  It had no mouth, yet…it spoke.

You felted so exposed under its gaze.  It could see your soul in its entirety.  All of your faults, your dreams that never came true, your insecurities, laid bare for Wayne to ogle at with its lecherous yellow dots.  A feeling of nakedness incapacitated your spirit.  No…looking down you were naked.

“I have seen it before, there is no need to hide from me.”  

What?!  This pervert!

“Please no more…don’t look at me in such a way.  It feels as though you’re picking me apart when you do that.”  Tears welled up in your eyes once more, this was too much, too soon.  Your heart shouldn’t desire such a thing.  What would Tabitha think?  Or Stella?  Or Keneeka? 

“Do not be embarrassed! Do not be ashamed!

 Why be downcast? Why groan?

 Your despoilers will become spoil,

 Far away shall be any who would devour you”

Its melodic chant eased your howling heart, closing your eyes you cleansed yourself of any guilt for what was about to happen.  And hey if no one else, Avery would understand, wouldn’t they?

“You enjoy switching between songs it appears.  Melodies flow so easily for you despite your lack of lips.” Chuckling at the thought, a sense of elation befell inside the soul.

“Well, you wished to wrestle with me, did you not?  Let us wrestle then.”

 Its wings encased you, trapped you inside as it took your body, your soul, your mind. 

(Powerful Build) Souls quarreled against each other in a fight for domination.  It was overwhelmingly strong, inhuman, insistent, but not all powerful. 

(Book smart and Mystical) Unfortunately for Wayne; you knew this play and how it ended.

Gripping its wrists and pushing your body against it, you struggled with all your might.  Otherworldly sensations coursed in your frame; feelings of agony, feelings of despair and hope, of regret and longing, feelings of abandonment and devotion.  All emotions felt at once, even in contradiction. 

Lifting your hips up, you dug and hooked your legs into its upper frame and, using your hooks, you pulled the monster closer and tried to pin it into side control.  As the two of you struggled to pin the other, Wayne entered you without any warning.  Ripping the air out of your lungs as your mortal body panicked at the abominable chafing.  You let the pain pass over and held on to the thing ascending upon you.

Sensing it was losing, Wayne began to assault your essence with sensations of inconceivable pleasure and relaxation, your body started to tremble with euphoria, your breath got ragged and hoarse as exhaustion and the need to rest came over. A final attempt to make you surrender.

Legs shook with the want to kneel and submit but instead nails dug deeper into its ethereal flesh, refusing to let go.  Maybe you couldn’t grapple it into its guard yet but you’d stubbornly hold on until it needed to rest.  

I didn’t matter how long it took, even until the dawn, if necessary, that be!

At the first sign of vulnerability, you used the last bit of your strength to put Wayne into half guard, hooking your left leg and entangling its lower body as you mounted the spirit and trapped its right arm under your weight.

“Such fighting spirit” Wayne snickered.

Sunlight broke through over the harsh gloomy skies and Wayne reared back, trying to disentangled itself but found it couldn’t do so.

“Let me go.”

Giving the spirit a wolfish grin, you taunted “Beg me”

Wayne paused for a moment, in consideration before it relented.  “Please…let me go.”

‘Good enough.”

Slowly, eyes opened to the dusty bedroom you slept in.  Your legs felt as if they had dead lifted a tremendous weight and through it all you sensed a wetness in between them and a different kind of ache inside.  Cheeks became red with embarrassment and you turned over to the clock in realization it was already ten in the morning.  Pain throbbed throughout your body as you rose up and started putting on clothing.

“Ahhh damn it!” Placing a hand on your left hip bone, you wrenched over in discomfort.  When the hell did Wayne hit your hip?

“What a dick…hopefully that goes away soon…” Grumbling, you made your way downstairs, stumbling a bit but ready to face the new horrors that awaited with new found confidence.

[sometimesibewriting]

Bad Boys Never win

✨Summary: You go to Karakura Town High School a school known for gangs and delinquents. While leaving at the end of a school day you encounter trouble, that you believe you can handle but once that trouble starts it turns out to be more than you can handle

📃Wordcount: Around 3K

💙I saw the Bleach April Fools dating sim back in April and this idea popped into my head and I got to writing. I always loved this look on Uryu since the day I found the official art on Pinterest. So happy to see it redone in an anime-like style if if it was for an April Fool's joke.

❌Warnings: Cursing, violence against women, talk of blood and injuries.

❤️AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49720216

It was your decision not to get involved with the students of Karakura High, you just wanted to have peace. Little did you know keeping your head down and out of trouble made you a target.

Getting good grades gets people intrigued in you, but mix that with going out of your way to not interact with anyone, and people get the idea that you think you are better than them. Joining a gang was law here and not doing that also put you in the spotlight.

Your arms felt like they were going to fall off as you tried to scrub the profanity on the desk, “They really used a good marker this time.” You said to yourself as you dipped the rag in water again.

“You know my offer still stands.”

You rolled your eyes, Where did she even come from? You looked up to see Rukia Kuchiki, who was the leader of one of the most influential girl gangs in school.

Rukia jumped off the desk she was sitting on and stood in front of you looking down at the words. They were slightly smudging but she could still read them.

Ignoring her you scrubbed harder. "I'm offering you a helping hand. Join my group and I'll make sure stuff like this never happens." Rukia's tone was serious.

"What's the catch?" You weren’t interested but it wouldn’t hurt to entertain the idea, Rukia smirked. “Smart. I need a tutor and seeing as you are in the top Te-”

“Absolutely not.” You cut her off.

Rukia gave you a look that would scare most people as you dried the table the words weren't gone but they were now unreadable due to smudging. You threw the cloth over your shoulder and walked away struggling with the bucket. Rukia grabbed one side.

“My brother has been cutting my allowance due to my dropping grades but I do have money saved, I can pay you, and on top of that I can offer you protection.”

The last thing you needed was to be seen with Rukia Kuchiki, even if it was just to study. You paused as if thinking about her proposition. "I've been at this school two years I'm used to how the students treat me, protection is the least of my worries. I'm sorry but you'll have to find another tutor." 

Without another word, you grabbed the bucket from her and left the classroom.

______________________________________________________________

Despite it being late afternoon there were students lingering after school. You would think delinquents would want to leave the school grounds as soon as possible yet they stayed to do who knows what. You walked through the halls towards the back of the school as it was the faster path to take. A bunch of guys hung around a fence, you paid them no mind.

"Hey!" 

One of them shouted. You kept walking as if you didn't hear him almost reaching the exit, suddenly someone violently grabbed your arm. "Didn't hear me talking to you? Huh?" He sneered looking you all over, once he realized who you were he laughed. "You one of those top students ain't yah? Say we need help with homework care to come with us." He looked over to his group of friends who had devilish smiles on their faces.  "Will give you drinks as a thank you."

You took note of the white ties and school uniforms it was obviously Nnoitra and his group. They were known for forcing girls to date them and do other things. Just your luck. 

"Why does everyone suddenly need a tutor..." You said to yourself, taking your arm out of his grip and walking off once again.

"That wasn't something you could say no to." You knew he was coming at you. When Nnoitra reached you, you turned around and kicked him in the nuts he let out a sharp gasp. His whole team looked at you in shock.

"You should have seen that coming from a mile away."

These words broke them out of their shocked trance as they ran to grab you. It was pretty easy to dodge them all, with each dodge you made sure to back up closer to the exist. That was until one of his henchmen put his leg out behind you causing you to fall.

“Shit.”

Your skirt got caught on the fence ripping it slightly, thank god you wore safety shorts every day. 

"Girl with a smart mouth but no sense, I can't wait to shut you up. Fuck her up." Nnoitra said with wide-crazed eyes. He had somewhat recovered "I want the last hit as payback doe." You tried to get up but were pushed down every time. 

One of Nnoitra’s henchmen had you by the collar and was about to hit you. While you closed your eyes you traced back all of your decisions, trying to figure out where it all went wrong all while accepting the fact that they were going to beat you. You opened your eyes no punch ended up landing.

Instead, the guy fell to the ground screaming in pain. "Hurting a girl on school grounds, are you really that dumb?" You looked up and saw a guy with glasses and slick back hair. Of course, you recognized him from Kurosaki's gang but his name escaped you at the moment.

"Ishida." Nnoitra snorted. "My lucky day huh?" Ishida pushed up his glasses and then sighed. "Unfortunately it is not mine..." 

Uryu. Uryu Ishida. The name now comes to you had seen it on the grades listing, he was a top student, number one in fact.

"Make sure to get him and get him good," Nnoitra commanded. All three guys ran at Uryu, he took the book that was in his hands and threw it at the guy to his left causing him to fall. 

The guy in the middle came at him but he dodged it. Uryu was able to land a punch on him but the middle guy didn't go down.

A guy to Uryu's right slammed into his side but Uryu stayed standing. The guy then began punching him, Uryu lifted his leg and slammed it into him as the guy went to catch his breath causing him to fall to his knees and then lay down. A crowd of leftover students was now starting to form at the windows of the school. 

Sadly that left him open and Uryu got punched in the face. He staggered a bit his nose bleeding, he wiped it with his sleeve and went back to fighting. You were in awe at his fighting, Uryu really had skill. "I guess that's why he's in Kurosaki's gang." you thought as you watched.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you were picked up and slammed right into the fence. "I didn't forget about you," Nnorita yelled at you. He raised his leg to kick, knowing exactly where he was aiming you put up your hand to block the blow.

Nnorita staggered a little and then slumped over you, blood could be seen falling from his head. "Who da..." He healed his head and turned around. All his henchmen were on the dirt-filled school grounds, and Uryu stood right behind him. 

"You wanna leave the damn girl alone?" He fixed his glasses so they now lay straight on his face. Nnorita turned around with a scream and went to punch him. Uryu dodged it but it was a fake out and he was hit with Nnorita's left, the blow landing on his stomach causing Uryu to fall to his knees. As he went down Nnorita kicked him in the same place. Uryu was trying hard to catch his breath it also sounded like he was trying not to bring up his lunch as well.

Nnorita turned back to you putting his hands around your neck and squeezing. Was he serious? He was really trying to kill you on school grounds.  You wasted no time taking a finger from each of his hands and bending it backward, breaking both of them. The pain was so severe that Nnorita had to lean his shoulder on the fence for support, he let out a roar. 

Nnorita was in a lot of pain and he wasn’t fighting back. Uryu took this opportunity to get up from the ground. He picked Nnorita up by his collar slamming him against the fence. "I don't want to see you or your group hurt a girl on school grounds ever again. If I do I'll make sure you won't recover." Uryu’s voice was straightforward and stern but it did not scare you.

Nnorita shook his head in agreement, only to be slammed back into the fence, a whimper escaping his lips. "I need you to say it." Nnorita shook his head again and in a raspy voice said, "I promise...I promise to not hurt a girl on school grounds again, you have my word." With that, Uryu dropped him and walked to pick up his book. He brushed it off. "Glad I didn't bring a library book today..." 

The crowd that had formed at the school windows broke away as if nothing had happened. Uryu turned to look at you, your legs didn't move even though your mind wanted them to. He looked you up and down as he walked. He squatted in front of you causing you to flinch. "Didn't mean to startle you but your skirt's ripped." He said looking it over.

"Oh." Your cheeks warmed up as you looked down at the tare in his hands, he stood up. "I can fix it for you, that is…if you want me to.” He looked away pushing his glasses up his beatup face.

"You-you don't have to I think you did enough."

"You could also use some first aid."

That was when you noticed that you had some scrapes and cuts, his wounds seemed to be way worse than yours though. Bruised up face, a cut lip, and dried blood resting under his nose his breathing was also still staggered. It was a miracle he was still standing.

"I think you need it more than I do. In fact, we should probably get you to a hospital."

"I am definitely not going to the hospital," Uryu said with a tone that sent a chill down your spine. "We can go to the infirmary. I shouldn’t have a problem getting a key." He simply stated with a cold tone.

_____________________________________________________________

You sat on a cot looking around the infirmary as Uryu walked around the room grabbing things in complete silence. He stopped in front of you and extended his hand, a pair of gym pants in it.

"Here change into these so I can fix the skirt."

This was awkward, so awkward.

You closed the curtain and changed into the sweatpants, then handed him the skirt. Uryu pulled out a mini sewing kit from his uniform pocket. "You...carry around a sewing kit?" Curiosity and confusion mixed as you spoke. 

"Am I not allowed to?" He said as he began pinning up the skirt. 

"I didn't say that it's just-"

"That you wouldn't expect me to be into sewing." Uryu shot a glance at you as he finished your sentence. You felt as if you said something wrong. To distract yourself from the weird atmosphere you began to patch yourself up.

Ironically you both finished at the same time, he handed you the skirt and you looked it over, it was almost like there was never a tare he really had talent. 

 "You're welcome. Make sure to return the sweatpants tomorrow." He began to pack up his mini sewing kit.

"Wait..." He hummed in response. "Aren't you going to patch yourself up?" You asked. "I can do that when I get home." He simply answered. 

That was when you walked up to him, Uryu looked at you puzzled, and without warning you put both hands on the side of his face. His cheeks turned red but this went unnoticed by you as the bruises hid the color. 

"Isn't your mom going to say something when she sees this?”

“My mom…’ Uryu whispered to himself, his whole expression changing. It was obvious that you had brought up something. You cursed yourself for that and searched your mind to change the subject to something else.

'Why don't I patch you up?" He took your hands off his face. "Absolutely not!"

"It's my thank you. You saved me from a creep and sewed up my skirt. It's the least I can do."

"Well, I-"

You cut him off. "You never took off your glasses during the fight, so I can assume you can't see the best without them. You're going to have to take them off to patch yourself up. You're not going to be able to see what you're doing. Am I right?"

Uryu sighed slightly annoyed. "Your quiet observant..."

"It doesn't take that many brain cells to figure out your blind." Uryu pushed up his glasses. "I'm not blind, I just can't see that well without something to correct my vision." He closed his eyes thinking, then reopened them a few seconds later. "I don't have much homework to do, so I guess it's fine."

Without any hesitation, you grabbed the first aid kit and he sat down taking off his glasses. You walked up and put your hand on his face moving it around gently. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a nice facial structure? You should model." You dabbed the bloody spots with the soaked cotton swob.

"No, nor do I have an interest in such a thing."

"Lost cause." You tossed the cotton swab and grabbed another one putting alcohol on it, this time you dabbed it on the cut on his nose. His eyebrows frowned but his straight face remained causing you to chuckle.

"What's so funny?”' He asked nonchalantly. "You trying to keep a straight face like you have an image to uphold."

"I kind of do." 

"Oh really." You threw the cotton swab in the trash can and placed a bandaid on the cut. “I am a part of Kurosaki’s gang, I kind of have to look tough in order to not bring down their representation.” You walked away and came back with an ice pack in hand. 

“I promise not to tell anyone if you whine or whimper.” You sarcastically said placing the ice pack on his face. "Didn’t know the gang was that well known.”

"You didn't?” He looked at you with an air of suspicion. “I don’t have much interest in the gang life here. I’m not even a part of one. I just want to graduate and move on with my life.”

Uryu raised an eyebrow at you, finding interest in what you had said. “So…that means you have no protection here.” He he lifted his hand but quickly put it back down as he remembered he had no glasses on.

"I'm surviving. All they do is bully me for being stuck up. The worst is they spread a rumor but those die down after a few days." He was looking at you, your eyes beginning to water.

You wondered why they did that, you didn’t care what they did to you but for some reason saying it out loud made you feel…empty and alone. Your face was blurry to him but he could tell you were upset. Uryu put his hand on yours as you held the ice pack.

“Dosn’t it get lonely?” He asked knowing exactly what loneliness felt like, she had no one, and that had him concerned. Uryu knew how it felt to be belittled and have no one to go to or talk to. That road was empty and endless, that was how he ended up at this school despite his good grades. Even though he was at odds with them sometimes, if he didn’t join Kurosaki’s gang, where would he be? Probably in and out of jail and forgotten by his father.

You stayed silent not wanting to answer his question, he spoke. “I understand that feeling too well, you should definitely talk to someone. I know this is out of place for me but if you ever feel lonely you can come and talk to me if I have time."

“Uryu…” You said in a whisper.

He looked up at you with wide eyes.

"Your kind of... crushing my hand,” That was when he noticed that he had a hard grip on your hand. “Sor-sorry.” He stuttered and took his hand off of yours, you also removed yours causing the ice pack to drop.

"I got it." Uryu beat you to it but hit his head on the table on his way back up. “Damn.” He said as placed the ice pack on his head, you tried to hide your laugh but couldn't, bursting into laughter. Despite the new pain he ended up smiling cause you weren’t upset anymore.

__________________________________________________________

By the time you both walked out of the school, the sky was a deep blue and the streetlights were on. “Do you mind if I walk you home?” Uryu asked. You looked taken aback, he cleared his throat. 

“It’s late. I don’t think it’s smart to let you walk home on your own. Especially after what happened today.” He explained, you looked at him with a smile. “I wouldn’t mind.”  

The walk wasn’t that eventful, you asked him questions here and there but his answers were quick and abrupt. Uryu didn’t talk much either it was mainly you starting conversations. Despite this, it didn’t feel all that long and you were almost home.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Uryu pushed up his glasses. "Seeing as you've been asking them all evening I guess I wouldn't mind another."  For some reason, you found the way he talked endearing, though most people would see it as rude. 

“Why did you help me today?" Uryu looked up at the dark sky. "Do I need a reason to protect someone?"

You shrugged at his answer, and he sighed. “Well, beating up a girl for refusing advances is quite gross. They needed some sense beat into them.”

“Thank you.” You blurted out, he looked at you straight-faced.

“There's no need for that, it's just common sense."

"I mean, you could have just left me after you won yet you took time to fix my skirt and see if I was okay, that was sweet of you."

"Sweet of me," Uryu said to himself, a rosey tint forming on his cheeks. “Oh, we're here.” You said looking at the apartment complex. 

"Thanks again," you repeated snapping him out of his trance. You turned toward the stairs away from him and turned right back. "Do you...mind if I get your number?” 

Uryu looked at you wide-eyed. "My number?" Confusion could be heard in his voice. “You said you understood the feeling of being lonely so I thought…maybe we can exchange numbers, so if we ever felt lonely we could just text each other.” You played with the strap of your bag.

You just met this guy and now you were asking for his number. While every fiber of your being wanted to crawl under a rock. Something made you determined to stay in touch with the young man.

“I guess..it couldn’t hurt.” He answered as he took out his phone. “I will warn you that I might take time to answer back. I still have school duties as a class president.” 

“Really?!?! I didn’t know you were president of your class.” You looked at him with shock, Uryu smiled at you. “I see you truly don’t keep up with what happens at this school.” Both of you exchanged numbers and bid each other a good night.

______________________________________________________________

Uryu sat on his bed staring at your contact on his phone. He was wracking his head around today's events. How he met you and how you just blatantly asked for his number.

It was all very random but it made him happy. It was a weird and new feeling for him but he welcomed it. The phone he held in his hand vibrated, he flipped it open and read the text immediately;

Srry for the late reply. Glad you got home safe, hope to see you soon.

He closed the phone with a smile on his face.

[dozing-marshmallow]

WATCHING THE MEG 2: TRENCH WITH CHRIS MCLEAN (X READER)

(Spoiler warning for those who haven’t seen it! Let me know what other movies you’d like to see with Chris, etc- I’ll be releasing a request blog soon! <3)

Chris was a complicated man. He was picky, yet laid back about all sorts of things. But if there’s one thing he loves, is a good laugh. Where does a good laugh come from? Entertainment. And what kind of entertainment gives Chris a good laugh? The pain of others. So what movie would be better to sit to with him other than the newly released Meg 2?

“Ooooo a shark movie! If I’m lucky, I might get some inspo from this for next season!” He laughed, gleefully rubbing his hands together.

“Did you...not see the first one?” (Y/N) blinked, setting it up.

“I’m a busy man, (Y/N).” He snapped elegantly.

“Fair enough.” It was ready to play,“You want popcorn or soda?”

“Yes please.”

So the entire room settled into darkness, with the only source of light illuminating from the large screen and the two next to each other, already stuffing themselves with cinema snacks.

The opening played a dragonfly, getting swallowed by a lizard, which got picked up by the mouth of a snapper dinosaur that rapidly got locked in the roaring jaw of a t-rex. Already, Chris had things to say.

“I thought this was a shark movie.” He snarked, turning to (Y/N), which she found no sense in.

“Why are you looking at me like I made it!?”

“You were the one that told me it was a shark movie.”

“Because that’s what it is!”

“Noo. It’s a prehistoric shark movie. Get it right.”

She couldn’t be bothered to correct him when he was going to see for himself,“Chris man, just watch the movie!”

“Fine!”

“I’ve been training Haiqi since she was a pup. We have a special bond.”

“Between her jaw and you, yes.” His voice cute.

“I’m surprised you didn’t train a shark like that to be your pet.” (Y/N) thought aloud, now curious of how Chris spent all that time surrounded by sharks and never tried domesticating one.

“When you already have a Venus flytrap that can partake in a marathon, who needs a shark?”

Ah. Right.“Touché.”

“Why doesn’t that shark go crazy and eat them? They’re vulnerable, they’re all on the boat like shrimp!” He complained, watching the crowd of well dressed guests at the party watching in awe at the spotlight the meg was in.

“That’s true, but I guess it’s a good shark.”

“They’re all good, (Y/N).” He firmly affirmed otherwise.

“Huh... I like her.” Chris spoke about Meiying,“Did we ever had anyone who jinxed like that on the show?”

“I think so...” She trailed off, seeing the characters lose control of the submarines.

He began cracking up again,“This about to get a whole lot more interesting.”

Chris groans when the sharks started spawning and failed to catch the cast(apart from two adults) who were currently navigating on the sea floor after their submarines crashed.

“Everyone make it to the station!” Jonas ordered.

“Yeah...” Chris yawned,“Make it to the station.”

After they did, one of the women, Curtis, had her skull implode just in time as a result of her cracked helmet and water pressure- her remains violently sprayed on the ground. Chris’ reaction? Chortling. Told you. Sadist. You shake your head as the characters easily move on from the disturbing tragedy and continued their search to flee.

“So, are they safe now or something?” Chris asked.

“Not really. They’re still at the depths of the ocean.”

“Just like Julia’s phones.”

“Uh...so they’re all bad guys?” Chris processed in a questioning tone, watching Driscoll demanding orders from her luxurious accommodation to Jess, the mole who suddenly switched up on Jonas’ team.

“Yep.”

He groaned in annoyance,”Came out of nowhere, but I can deal with that.” He kept quiet to watch her eject two escape pods and hearing how if Jonas was to get killed,”She’d at least let the kid take an escape pod?”

“Yeah. Unlike some people.” She made sure to add that sharply, intentionally making it obvious to who she directed it to.

“Unlike some people who have a hosting job on the hottest reality show and more, you mean?” It’s never not funny whenever he takes these things personally.

“Hey awesome! That man’s name was DJ!” Chris announced in enthusiasm. For someone who shared the same name of one of his earlier contestants, he seemed intrigued to watch how this DJ was; the DJ in the movie put his training claims to action as he successfully knocked out some of the mercenaries he and Mac encountered on the base swaying on the salty water.

Fast forward to when the group managed to get up to the surface and were currently embarking their way on a defenceless dinghy away from the Mana One.

“I still think we look like fools” said man remarked.

“Darn right.” Chris agreed,“Unlike our DJ, this DJ knows how to fight!”

“Doesn’t our DJ also know how to fight?”

“What, you ever seen it?” He snorted,“He wouldn’t even hurt a fly!”

“Aw man. I remember when I used to cuss like that.” Chris laments, watching a scene where the adults were using vulgar language,“Had to stop though because the network wanted to keep Total Drama family friendly.”

“Really?” No way that’s where television standards drew the line,“The shot of Heather’s top being ripped off and Duncan flipping off the cameras could make the cut, but it’d be problematic if you swore? A lot of people swore on that show but had the good old pixels over their mouths and bleeps.”

“In case you haven’t realised, (Y/N), I’m grown.” He glared,”I don’t do outbursts like teenagers, nor should I, so it’d be really unprofessional, and awkward for the editors to have to go through that for a host who shoulda known better.” Really? He doesn’t do outbursts?,“Besides, it wouldn’t be fair reality tv to cut everything out. It’s scenes like that that really keep the ratings high and their self esteem low.”

What a Chris thing to say,“No comment.”

“Good, cuz we’re in the middle of watching a film. Hush.” He put his finger to his lips in attempt to shush her.

She could only kiss her teeth in disbelief.

“Hey (Y/N), are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Chris asked after a tense while of silence of keeping thoughts to themselves, ironic that it’s he who broke it given 

What happened to we’re in the middle of watching a film?

“Anyways, you’re telling me those sharks escaped the trench and the first thing all of them do is approach the same island?” He asked, completely deflecting the thing he was so-called against.

“Looks like it.” It’s easier to go along with it.

He sighed,“I’m starting to think the writers were swapping cassettes whilst writing this.”

How does that...whatever.

The movie then focused on a young couple out of many on a boat, with the man proposing to his girlfriend. He accidentally drops the ring, to which his now fiancé scolds him into finding. Just when he found it, his girl was gone. He looked around in confusion and called for her name, but nothing. Except from the tentacles that terrorised everyone into capsizing.

“Let me guess,” she started, throwing a handful of popcorn in her mouth,”This is your new ideal way to propose to me.”

“Nah. Normally I wouldn’t mind the thought of you dying during our engagement, but a shark wouldn’t return me your finger to keep the ring on.” He didn’t even take his eyes of the screen to admit that.

She slowly turned to him, trying to register what he said,”So what you’re saying is, you wouldn’t care if I died this entire time just as long as you still had my body?”

“Something like that. Take that as compliment, I actually care about you.” Just as he said that, the movie cuts to Jonas and his allies arriving to the island, urgently alerting the tourists in raised voices to get out of the water.

...In a way, I guess that was sweet? I don’t know, maybe it’s one of those things he says with his chest yet still doesn’t mean all the way.

There was a scene of another couple, where this time, they were in a paddle boat of their own. This time around, the shark made itself known earlier, so they were naturally screaming and pedalling for their lives out of the water, just to get swallowed whole by the shark. Needless to say, Chris’ laugh was the only thing she could hear, even past the scene. It had never been so loud before.

What did I say?

“(Y/N)! Why...didn’t you tell me we were watching a comedy?” He chocked out as a scene of megs bite through boardwalks and running tourists flashed on the screen.

“Because Chris, it’s actually not that funny. Imagine if they were your parents.” She dragged out to guilt trip him.

Which of course, backfired,“Like my parents would have ever done something as  stupid as going on whatever that thing was when they have the ocean to go in.”

She shrugged,“Well since that couple were wearing clothes, I could only assume they  either didn’t want to swim or simply couldn’t.”

“Okay, that’s just being generous,” He giggled, wiping his eyes,”But you can’t tell me you didn’t think they were annoying. Shark did us a favour!” He took a slurp from his soda,“If they really couldn’t swim, they woulda worn life jackets.”

“What, and inflate them as they’re getting swallowed by the shark?”

“Exactly! It’ll be like popping candy!”

Nah man.

“Where did those things come from!?” Chris exclaimed confused as the dinosaur looking animals chased the mercenaries that managed to arrive to the island.

“From the trench as well, I think?” Or else they wouldn’t have allowed people to come there, but she thought back to Chris’ observation about how it was strange all these marine creatures decided to go to the same place.

“Really.” He ignored the fact he remembered seeing them swimming earlier in a collective.

“Yeah, that’s why that lady was shocked that they could walk!”

“Y’know, I see a bit of myself in Jiuming.” Chris confesses, witnessing said man distracting the nearby giant lizard by banging a shovel and hammer together whilst Mac ran for the helicopter,“Always expected to do the impossible things, always doing life risky activities for the sake of other people, always having to be up to the task to not let down those around you...”

“Are you sure you’re not just describing your interns?” She put out bluntly, Jiuming now having to hold the pressure of getting the helicopter gas whilst having a batch of those giant lizards chasing him, savagely.

“What’s your point? You say that as if they have dignity written in their DNA.” Chris shot back in that remorseless manner.

She’s speechless,“Chris... That was a bit far, don’t you think?”

He rolled his eyes,“Just the truth, ma’am.”

“Where did the octopus come from!?” (Y/N) exclaimed, in profound puzzlement as the rubbery strands for legs shot up from the ocean and zigzagged through the beach.

“It’s a Kraken actually.” There Chris was, having more concern over her misuse of classification, clearly less surprised than she was,”And it was actually there from when the gang tried walking in the ocean. And Chef says I need glasses!”

“Alright...” she scoffs, and now that he brought that up,”Hey, hey Chris.”

“Yeah?” 

“The lady whose helmet imploded.”

He started chortling again, too busy to pay attention to the creep getting swung forcefully into the ocean by one of the lengthy tentacles of the Kraken.

“Euuugh good, I’m glad that weirdo’s gone.” She remarks spitefully.

“Which weirdo?” He asked, laughter stopping.

“The one that was hitting on those ladies then had the audacity to try hide behind them.”

“Ohh...” He breathed in through his teeth,”Not cool dude.”

Now the helicopter was deconstructed, Jiuming was thrown into the ocean, fighting for his life as the kraken sprung a tentacle around him. Just as it seemed that all hope was lost, the meg came in and saved the day. As Jiuming found his new chance to escape, the kraken was busy wrapping its massive tentacles tight around the shark, resulting Chris to give (Y/N) a suggestive look.

“Come on Chris, you know that’s not the type of inspo you wanted.”

He snickered,”Suit yourself.” and put his view back on the movie.

Fast forward to when Haiqi approached over and her owner attempted the sound activity that failed in the beginning.

“Yes, finally! Attack him! Bite him! Eat him! Eat him!” Chris clearly wanting it to fail again, through his whooping for the impending jaw snapping death. This behaviour was all too familiar.

Fortunately (not for Chris), Haiqi must’ve appeared to recognise Jiuming because she sheered right away from him. Chris’ ambition immediately turned into a fit.

“No no no, what are you doing!? The guy was right there! Boooooo! Worst shark ever!” He shouted at the screen, sitting back down in disgust, watching Haiqi chase after dolphins,“Are you kidding me right now? The one time this movie wants to be scientifically accurate is for this scene?”

“Chris chiiiill. You’ve already seen it and its friends eat dozens of people. Poor innocent unsuspecting annoying people. Your favouriiiite.” She sang.

“...True.” He grumbled,“I liked him anyway.”

“Yay! Happy ending! All the best guys survived and enjoy the beach whilst all the hoes got eaten by the shark and more along the way!” (Y/N) cheered, throwing her popcorn box in the air, unintentionally stretching. Ah, just what she needed after an hour of sitting!

“...Hm.” Chris on the other hand had his thumb under his chin, as though he was deep in thought to realise the movie had ended.

“What’s the matter, Chris?” It was going to be something only he would be preoccupied with.

“I’m wondering if I could get the legal rights to rewrite this...and rename Camp Wawanakwa to Fun Island...”

Joke thing. “Oh come onnnnn. You know you liked it.”

“...Okay, that lady who thought she was safe inside that chamber before she died...” he chuckled,”That made up for it. It was so funny how that guy was so devastated by it. And that other witch who got dragged by those Slappers. A well deserved death for a well dressed idiot, who goes into those kinds of situations in party clothes!?”

“I think they were called Snappers... And you can’t tell me those were the only scenes you liked! How about the way that annoying guy died?”

“Which one? There were plenty.”

She laughed,“Y’know Montes? The one that was devastated over that lady on the phone? The one that was trying to shoot up Jonas when he was doing the Lord’s work, and fell into the Meg’s mouth?”

“Ohhhhh yeaaaaah! It was so clean, I’m gutted I didn’t come up with it!”

She momentarily rested her head on his shoulder,“My favourite part is knowing the dog survived.”

“Only exception. It’d be lazy if they killed the dog off.”

She suddenly remembered what Chris said and takes her head off to look at him,”Did you get your inspo?”

A sinister smile crawled onto his face as he proudly took out a notebook, with bold words scribbled at the top “TDI future ideas”. “Absolutely.”

...(Y/N) says her condolences for those poor contestants.

[kittyball23]

Prologue v1 - BroZone Flashback (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: BroZone perform for an excited audience, debuting their little baby bro Branch for the first time

A/N: I am very excited about Trolls Band Together, and as I was writing a post about my predictions for how I think some scenes in the movie could happen, it ended up turning into a fanfiction! So anyway, enjoy if you read, I've got several ideas that I'm going to be writing oneshots for :D I have also cross-posted this Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction.net, and Wattpad.

The Trolls movies have so far started with prologues before we see the main characters. I'm going to kick things off with one version of that, featuring BroZone :)

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“Bro-Zone! Bro-Zone! Bro-Zone!”

The sound of the crowd chanting out the name of their band made four little Trollings fill with joy. This was what they lived for – singing, dancing, and sharing their talent with everyone. And so, without further ado, the quartet made their way out onto the mushroom stage, and the crowd went wild with claps and cheers. Not too long afterwards, the music started, and the four Trollings began to sing.

Taking the lead vocals was the aquamarine Troll John Dory, who wore a vest of the same color of his hair and a pair of sunglasses above his head all the time. With him were Spruce, Clay, and Floyd – purple, yellow, and magenta haired Trolls respectively who sang and danced alongside him. Those who knew them knew that the four of them were great friends, and that was a good thing, given that they were also all brothers. Everyone in the crowd clapped and sang along with them, knowing very well the lyrics of the song.

“Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk.

I'm a dancin’ man, no time to talk

Music loud and women warm, we’ve been kicked around

Since we were born,

And now it's alright, it's okay,

And you may look the other way,

We can try to understand,

The New York Times' effect on man,

Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother

You're stayin' alive, stayin' alive,

Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin'

And we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive,

Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive

Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' aliiiIIIIIiiiiiIIIve!

Yeah we’re stayin’ alive!”

Suddenly, John Dory stepped up to the front of the stage and bent down, clapping hands with some of the nearby fans who stretched up to him. “Ladies and gentletrolls!” he announced. “We wanna introduce to you another little bro to our band!” He ran back up the stage to join his other brothers as they danced some more and continued. “You know him! Okay, well, maybe you don’t know him yet, but you’ll love him! Please, give a warm welcome to the small, the cute, Baaaaaby Braaaanch!”

In a skilled move, John Dory and Clay stepped aside to reveal a small, bopping blue baby Troll with round white glasses. He hip-hopped with his small feet and struck more than enough cute poses to make nearly all the girls faint. He was a huge star already – and he wasn’t even old enough to sing yet!

Pleased by the positive reaction of the crowd, the brothers continued to perform, making sure that each of them had enough time in the spotlight and an equal chance to sing. The crowd roared with glee by the time that the song had finished and they struck their final, signature pose with an exclamation of “Bro-Time!”

Bowing and giving their thanks, the Trollings dismounted the stage and huddled together in a quick group hug.

“We nailed it!” JD exclaimed, beaming. “What did I tell you? I knew that show was going to be our best one yet!”

“You say that about every show we do, JD,” Spruce pointed out.

“Lighten up, Spruce!” Clay piped up. “Every show is the best show if it’s done with you guys!”

“He’s right,” Floyd agreed. “It really is something great to be singing with my bros,” he said. Then, suddenly, the brothers saw him tear up, and knew where this was heading.

“Uh-oh,” John Dory mumbled.

“Here he goes again,” Spruce muttered.

“The waterworks are coming!” Clay said, right as tears spilled out of Floyd’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the magenta Trolling whimpered, “I just love you guys so much!”

“Yeah, well,” John Dory said, “while you’ll never see me get all blubbery about it, I love you guys, too,” he admitted to them. Then he put his hand in the middle. “Bros forever?” he asked.

Spruce, Clay, and Floyd immediately understood and placed their hands in the middle, too. Baby Branch, giggling and following his older brothers’ lead, also placed his hand in the middle with theirs and happily swung it up in the air. “Bros forever!” they cried.

They knew that nothing, not ever, would tear them apart.