#whoever guesses who it is gets a virtual pat

[rayvee]

“Okay, found the trail,” Ren whispered, “looks like he went this way, dude.”

“I should probably give you a leash,” Zloy muttered. The thought had just occurred to him, but if they were going to be in public…

“Ugh. Do you have to?”

“I don't know. I think there’s fines or something if a dog isn’t on a leash?”

“Wow, rude. Who made that decision?”

“Some Human, I dunno.”

“What a butt. Well, us getting fined won’t save Pix any faster, I guess.”

“You sure?”

“Go ahead, dude. Just keep it the crap kind I can break out of whenever.”

“Well, by Human standards, that’s most leads. But sure.”

“Let's go find Pixie!”

-

“Jeez, whoever did this got pretty far.”

“No kidding,” Zloy responded. Humans only had so much stamina, and they’d crossed that threshold a while ago. Which was kind of concerning, honestly, but there wasn’t much that could take on a zombie and a werewolf in this day and age.

Ren suddenly swerved down an innocent-looking alleyway, and then paused.

“Dude… it disappears down here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I wouldn’t lie to you, dude.”

“Oh no,” Zloy muttered, “where- could they be underground? Are we dealing with another Player?”

“Oh gods, you think so? I haven’t seen hide nor hair of other Players this whole time, dude. Who could it even be?”

“Yeah, no idea. I’ve been on this island for a couple hundred years by now, you’d think that I’d have heard something.”

“Especially with that illusion, which- no offence, dude, but it sucks.”

“It fools Humans but not Players, which is pretty much all I need, so…”

“Yeah, that makes- hey, what’s this?” Ren glanced around, then shifted back to human form and pulled a concealed lever.

A block in the floor retracted, and a hole into the earth appeared.

“Well. That’s not suspicious at all.”

[lovelysho]

any friend of yours, is a friend of mine. <3

✰summary; in which you and eren are both two twisted individuals, but you like it that way.

✰pairings; eren jaeger x fem!reader // armin arlert x fem!reader

✰warnings: nsfw/18+, smut, creampie, rough sex, degradation, choking, slapping, manipulation, manhandling,overall toxicness.

it wasn’t your typical game of cat and mouse. oh no, you shared that role interchangeably.

you and eren had a certain dynamic to maintain. you both got a kick out of toying with one another; but not only that, the two of you possessed qualities that were too probable to clash. in turn making whatever you had, virtually set in stone from the start.

everyone could see it and were well aware. so how you ended up dragging whoever you wanted, whenever you wanted into your little games? you guess you’ve both just got it like that. what you want, you get.

that’s how you end up in the back seat of eren’s bentley riding dick like your life depended on it.

“ar-are you sure this is okay [name]?” armin’s voice chimed in your ear, resonating like sweet bells. soft and scarcely restrained, it was perfect beside the sound of your skin slapping against his. your wet cunt squelching around his shaft, hands gripping the back of the seat, behind his head as you bounced up and down.

“why wouldn’t it be?” you pull back from his neck and ask innocently as you looked into his sapphire-esque eyes. you were just so cute and all around adorable. everyone who knew you would agree.

“eren’s right inside of that store.” he tries to sneak a glance out of the window, but you grab his chin gently, bringing him to face you.

“I-I thought you wanted this armin, wanted me.” you coo sweetly, a pout gracing your features.

“I do, fuck I do.”

“yeah? then tell me, tell me how good I make you feel.” a soft moan fills the space, as you continue your swift thrusts, now with his assistance.

his hands gripping the fat of your thighs and ass, helping you set the pace of an up and downwards motion.

throwing his head back he couldn’t help but to let loose and relish in this moment. he knew it was wrong for so many reasons. knew somewhat, even if not all, of what you had going on with eren. no one ever knew what to call it, but believe him he knew. then there was always the thought of where you were committing such an act.

It was exhilarating to him, to say the least, and you could see it all over this face. cheeks flushed red, blond strands gripping to his forehead, sticky with sweat, bottom lip between teeth shit.

you got off to the thought of reducing him to such a state. sweet little armin. that was one of the fun parts. the fact that he was eren’s friend was a hefty bonus. 100+ points. racked up on that one. you smile as the thought crossed your mind.

“damn you feel so good, [name]. so wet, so tight.”

“fuck me armin, please.”

and he did. all it took was for that feathery voice of yours, a breath of air against his earlobe, before you cease all movement as he’s thrusting his hips wildly into yours.

“shit, I’m gonna cum armin. you gonna let me cum for you?”

“fuck yes, ahh! [name] ‘m gonna, ‘m gonna-”

and that’s how you both finish. lifting yourself off of him and pulling your panties up, you pat one of his flushed cheeks uttering a “good job darlin” as you usher him to hop back into the passenger seat.

eren returned shortly after, completely unaware of the milky cum his best friend just pumped into you, leaking onto your cotton panties and threatening to drip out of your skimpy skirt into his very car seats.

you were lying in your bedroom on your stomach with your pretty satin night gown on to match the bedspread underneath you as you clicked away on your phone. legs crossed, swinging to and fro, when your mom knocked on your door telling you, you had a visitor.

you knew you didn’t invite anymore over today, and were shocked to see eren in the doorway upon opening it.

he barged in not giving you any time to talk, shutting and locking the door behind him. luckily for him, your mom knew and adored him. she was about the only one who remained clueless as to the relationship the two of you really held.

“eren? what are you doing here?” you bat your eyelashes up at him.

grabbing your throat he slams you against the wall, your leg bumping firmly against your dresser, which you let out a hiss at.

“you can cut that cutesy bullshit. save it for the next friend of mine you wanna fuck.” he spat.

his hair was down, damp from what you assumed to be a shower. a clear indication that he threw all caution to the wind to come over here. dropped everything.

you always did think he looked prettiest with his hair down. it made whenever he took those calloused fingers of his and pushed them back over his forehead, that much better. that those jade irises shone the brightest when he did so, finally coming to light.

you had told him that once when what the two of you had was simple, heart warming even. that’s probably why he never wore it down. just to spite you.

his grip on your neck was sturdy, and you were finding it hard to breathe. opening your moth to try and speak, only to feel lightheaded. so, he loosened his grip, arm almost falling completely.

you took a moment to gather yourself. grabbing his hand and removing it from your neck, you step away from him and can’t stop the giggle that escapes your lips. voice horse, this was just too good.

“oh shit, he told you? It hasn’t even been twenty four hours. damn I had faith in him, guess I owe myself a pedicure.”

his face twists in anger, and if looks could kill, you’d be a dead son of a bitch. he harshly shoves you back onto the bed. “you’re a fucking slut you know that?fucking my friend and placing bets with yourself on how long it’d take until he cracked? you’re fucking sick.”

“oh I’m sick?! let’s not even go there. especially when it comes to who’s fucking who. you fucked both mikasa and sasha!”

“yeah and you went fucking crazy when I did, bitch!”

“oh, fuck you eren.” you stand up to get in his face, pointing and spitting the same venom he had came at you with. “If I’m a slut what does that make you? face it, you’re a goddamn whore and you’re just mad because I get even.”

you both stood in silence eyes boring heavily into each other with such hate? no, it was more complicated than that. chests rising and falling with the harsh words that hung in the air, breathing heavy.

all of a sudden he’s pressing you against the wall; but you weren’t alarmed, you never were. you knew exactly what was about to go down.

yanking down his sweats, he lifts your gown and moves your panties to the side, rubbing his middle and forefinger against your folds. “you’re a goddamn psychotic slut. wet from me spitting in your face and tossing you around like a goddamn doll. you like this shit don’t you?”

you just smirk and bite your lip, closing you eyes and you feel his fingers working in between your legs.

“you ‘oughta be lucky I like this little pussy of yours.” he says as he delivers a hard smack to your clit. “fucking someone in my car, you must’ve lost your damn mind. it’s okay though, I’ll help you find it.”

pulling your straps down, he finally lifts you up and your ankles wrap around his waist, your back cold and hard pressed against the wall. your tits were on full display, nipples pert and tingly as he gripped your breast bringing it to his mouth to circle his warm hot tongue over your areola.

your pussy was growing wetter by the moment, practically sopping. clenching around nothing as you waited for him to sheath himself into you.

he wanted you to whine, cry out for his dick. and you were holding out, defying him, but it wasn’t long before his cock is rubbing teasingly against your clit earning the small whimpers that escape your lips.

“say you fucking want it. the real you, none of that baby shit you put on for everyone else.”

“I want it, eren. you know I do. ‘want your dick so bad.”

he’s pumping in and out of you, fucking you relentlessly against the wall, right next to your mothers bedroom. roughly and without a hint of hesitation. no care for whether you were prepared to take him or not. he stretched you like no other. that one vein of his rubbing alongside your walls only making you clench harder as the best part of him kissed your cervix deliciously.

you never lasted long with him, could never. always opting to go rounds because the dick was just that good.

“tell me you won’t fuck my friends again. say it.” a sharp sound reverberates off the walls.

tears brim at your lash lines, the sting of his hand against your cheek, and the stimulation he was providing you. the ball in your stomaching was about to burst.

“I swear I won’t fuck your friends again. I promise!! a-ah — shit eren. I- I won’t. ever again. fuckkk.”

“I’d call you a good girl, but you’re anything but.” he says before he’s cumming inside of your gripping hole, coating your walls a thick shade of white.

“this pussy is mine. don’t forget it.” he taps your clit before sliding out.

he pulls up his sweats, gives you a look over his shoulder before he’s out of your door, out of your home. leaving you there, legs shaking and hands struggling to grip the wall as to hold yourself up.

It was an empty promise. you knew within the next week you’d be in between the sheets of another. getting fucked once again, and as would he.

so you could say, in truth you did enjoy it. and you weren’t the only one. you liked fucking the other over. hurting each other’s feelings if at all possible.

the comfort of knowing you’d turn around and run right back was all too addicting.

but don’t get it confused, you weren’t harboring any feelings for one another. it was just a simple game of cat and mouse.

rosexfics © 2021. do not copy, modify, or repost my work.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

and besides a [you can fill in the blanks / just hc whatever in the face of little info] about winston or taylor individually as well as of course the dynamic and the never worth showing but presumably occurring occasional interaction b/w an employee & his boss, it’s I Guess Sort Of Fun [wringing what you can from what you get] style challenge opportunities re: how the little of their Dynamic that we see is so expressly Not Talking / the more successful and [specifically devoted to an interaction between them] matters are nonverbal

like it’s billions, taylor doesn’t always talk a lot whether they’re a) too busy preferring to listen and/or b) uninterested in the way that talking and the way that’s done / the language used is part of the “any & every interaction is a power struggle / challenge to someone’s power or defense of your own / vie for a higher spot on the social hierarchy” constant experience (which isn’t what winston does, and is certainly seen to be doing it Wrong if you push everything into the context of this Competition, which is always what’s happening) and half the time their using The Language the way others do is more strategic about just a shortcut (or requirement) for getting through to whoever can’t fathom working with someone who hasn’t made a godfather reference yet or whatever

meanwhile winston speaks with Personality & Flair but as stated not in the “right” way, and he communicates to like, have a constructive interaction with some non [i’m trying to defeat you in this battle arena] purpose, while everyone reacts to the Style rather than substance of what he says, and perceives it as hostile &/or cringe (autistic character moments) while taylor at the very least generally refrains from negative feedback, rather just actually listening to the info

however, all this is to say that with how [unusual billions] a matter of fact exchange is like the ones taylor & winston can have, naturally we have taylor just rarely interacting with him at all, not saying anything back to him even when he’s speaking to them, and winston in speaking to them of course only getting to Exposit for them, b/c it’s not like they’re gonna relate to him or get to have a conversation that involves their serious character material with him, b/c he is an unserious funny little guy who nobody could relate to b/c he’s Other People to us all. but at least winston doesn’t seem to bring this up / is glad Enough to just be able to talk to them while they virtually never reply

again however, even in that matter, taylor communicates with him Nonverbally, in that they’re willing to use eye contact to Acknowledge him / accompany the fact that they’re listening. not like it’s a huge deal when this is like, a whole thing of theirs re: any & everyone, but it’s like, well great that there’s not a Negative Exception made for winston b/c he’s not even worth that, or whatever lol. but they also do use Deliberate Expression Shifts to speak to him, even when sometimes that’s negative too, they also have more Matter Of Fact than not cues that he receives and takes as the communication that it is. oh, and the pat on the back even lol. the rarity of taylor using Touch with someone lmao, and yet here we are....

anyways, on this show so about how people use Language in these particular ways, and where both winston and taylor even for having “unusual” or even Wrong approaches in that world also have their own elevated quality to things / individual flair, it’s still fun to consider like, okay, how about a dynamic of really Talking At All even less than usual, what could that entail, what could it look like. winston phoning it in, 90% of his potential effort dedicated to other things, still being worth 5 employees w/more experience, sitting on a beanbag in the corner of taylor’s office, knitting them a sweater, sometimes chatting to them without expecting a response, they might be ignoring it wholly like he’s just providing bg noise while they focus on work, might be that two months later they might bring up something he offhandedly said in an actual exchange with him as one of those titrated metaphors like learning about wrestling b/c mafee likes it, figuratively bless them. maybe you have to prove yourself through Language and Charisma and that avenue isn’t even open to winston, but hey, he’s already Here after being proven enough quantingly in kompenso for taylor to decide he can be included around here as their funny little guy at all, and that’s Stayed enough, so everything else is just bonus / extra flair one way or another. he may never win points with anyone by being a person with a personality & presence, but as ever, of course he may as well be not very dissuaded ever from existing & speaking regardless of anyone’s negative reactions & punishments over that, b/c the extra punishment of trying to disengage from his personality, go as unnoticed as possible, and speak as briefly & lifelessly as possible would just be another punishment that itself would be cringe, wrong, & worthy of punishment, and not get him any points

anyways the point is. An Element of winston & taylor interactions which can be prompted by [writers decided that after kompenso taylor would just never talk to him again] like okay then, their Interactions and A Dynamic where winston might talk to them regardless of Knowing this pattern, taylor will know that a nonverbal wavelength works just as well here if not sometimes better, and tl;dr things aren’t necessarily hashed out via the particulars of a verbal exchange very much being read tf into as the vehicle for all the nuance in a dynamic / an individual’s feelings/intentions abt that dynamic, when it’s a realm where winston is only ever going to be judged to lose / to supposedly prove/justify his lack of value, and where even when taylor holds their own / indicates value / wins in this realm, it’s often enough got this premise of A Challenge to it, as it does in any given extended conversation actually included in the show....the fun of working around that. for me anyways, and in imagining them working around it

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (28)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tessa Sullivan (OFC)

Chapter Summary: Tessa begins some light undercover work while Bucky pouts in the background... And Clint sheds some light on what happened years ago in Minsk.

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

They all agreed – some more begrudgingly than others – that it would be a good idea for Tessa to see what she could find out from Cal before getting in any deeper with Lobe. The ingenious businessman, as he had referred to himself, had invited Tessa to come out to his temporary facility outside of Albany. But try as they might, none of them could find anything about this mysterious site. And – “You’re not going out to some off-the-radar science lab on your own. Not with the current lack of intel we have.” – Steve was the one giving the orders.

Well, if intel is what he wants...

“I’m telling you,” she says, as Natasha hooks up the not-even-remotely-noticeable bug in the hem of her sweater, “He’s not going to help.”

Steve looms in the foreground, arms folded across his chest. “He doesn’t have to help. Just get him talking and we can sift through all of it later.”

“It’s looking like this might be more than we thought,” Clint mumbles from his position at the conference table. He’s busy looking through all of the virtual files that he and Nat had spent the last few days compiling. Swiping through another page on the holoscreen in front of him, he says simply, “Since all of the Terrigenesis stuff started, people have been paying more and more attention to… super people.” He glances up to raise a single eyebrow at Tessa. “Depending on what his end game is, this Lobe guy could be the next big bad.”

“Then by all means, let’s go waste some time grabbing coffee with some crony instead of figuring out what the big bad is up to,” she snarks with a pout.

Natasha triggers the bug to make sure everything is set up and pats Tessa on the shoulder. “You’re good,” she tells her. “Just don’t conveniently spill a drink on it when you two start in about the past.” She shoots her a playful, crooked smile before turning to gather her things.

“Alright,” Steve starts, manner and voice all business. “I’ll be in the back of the café.” He moves over to Tessa and gently reaches out to grab her shoulders. “I know this should go without saying, but do not leave my sight.”

She rolls her eyes. “You really think I’d take off with him?”

“I might,” Nat mutters from across the room.

“That,” Steve intones, pointing at Natasha, “is why you three are all off comms.”

Clint rises and shuts down the computer in front of him. “See? Once again, your sexual appetite has us sidelined.”

Natasha cocks a brow in his direction. “My sexual appetite has gotten us out of more jams than it’s ever gotten us into.”

Steve visibly winces. “Enough. Come on, guys. Can we just… not?”

Natasha shrugs and shoves some equipment into Bucky’s hands. He almost drops it and has to regain his balance as she piles more crap into his arms. “Make yourself useful, Sargent,” she tells him. “You can’t just stand there brooding in silence all day.”

“I don’t know,” Clint says as he takes some of the load off Bucky. “If anybody can do it, he can.” He gives the silent, gloomy looking man a wink and heads for the door.

000

It makes perfect sense, of course, that the three of them would be sequestered in a van down the block. Well, maybe it doesn’t really makes sense why all three of them would be… Natasha was the only one actually needed in here working the recording equipment. But Clint wasn’t about to sit any part of this out. And Bucky was obviously not going to let Tessa go out there without being close by. Even if no one really believed that she was in any danger.

After all, this was just a simple, casual meetup with a potentially knowledgeable contact who might be able to supply some intel on what now seemed to be an ongoing op. Fine. No big deal. His lab rat girl was just now invariably working out in the field. He could handle that.

Well, he’d be able to handle it a lot better if he had her in his sights. And if he had a weapon, some sort of recourse, in case something did go wrong. But no sniper should be needed today – especially not one who admittedly kind of wants to blow off the head of the guy she’s meeting with.

“How you holding up, Barnes?” Clint asks as he bumps Bucky’s shoulder with his.

He sighs, long and loud. “I’m not used to being non-essential.”

“Yeah, well… Think of this,” he says, sweeping his hand across the tight space of the cargo van, “as a chance to play stakeout. It’s like we’re the FBI!”

“Hunting down mob bosses?” Natasha supplies as she hands each of them an earpiece. There won’t be any comms going, so they can’t talk to Tessa. And they’ll only be in contact with Steve if something goes wrong. But thanks to the high-tech bug in Tessa’s sweater, they’ll be able to hear everything going on at the café down the block.

“Exactly.” His smile fades a bit when he looks back over at Bucky and notices the concerned look on his face. “Did you two get a chance to talk?” he asks him in a low tone. Natasha would be able to hear, of course, there’s barely a foot of space between them. But his voice makes it clear that this talk is between just the two of them.

He nods. “Yeah. We’re good.”

“Cause, you know, the other day… we were just joking around. I mean… I was there at the tail end of their thing. It wasn’t anything like what you and Doc have.”

The sincerity in his voice, makes the corners of Bucky’s lips quirk up into a small smile. “I know,” he says. Then, his face transforming into a confused sort of pout. “I forgot you said that you met him. That was when you first met Tessa, right?”

Clint settles back into the cushioned bench that runs the length of the van. “Yep. Minsk.”

“Funny, isn’t it? How we mark moments in our lives by either the name of the op or the location of the mission,” Natasha utters, without turning around. She continues to busy herself with the recording equipment, doing one final test to make sure everything is working as it should.

Clint lets out just the shortest of chuckles. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“So what happened there?” Bucky asks, genuine interest perking his voice.

Clint gives him a suspicious look. “She never told you?”

He shakes his head. “In case you haven’t noticed, Tessa’s not great about sharing things from her past.”

Natasha finally turns and joins the men in the rear of the van, all equipment up and running. “Did you know she graduated from med school when she was 23?” she asks incredulously. “I only found that out last year.”

“How’d she manage that?” Clint asks, taken aback.

She merely shrugs. “That, she did not share.”

He pulls in a deep breath and drops his raised brows. “Well… the thing in Minsk was kind of a shit show.”

“You were sent by Fury, right?”

He nods. “Genetech had a facility on Long Island that was shut down back in the 1980s. SHIELD found out about some nanocontagion they’d let loose, and they moved in and took out the whole operation. Or so they thought,” he says with a glint. “Fury heard rumblings about the company starting up again in Eastern Europe, so he sent a couple of us to go check it out.”

“Who’d you go with?” she asks.

He shrugs. “McAllen.”

“Ugh,” she responds, obviously sharing his less-then-enthused view of whoever Agent McAllen is.

“So Genetech was what?” Bucky inquires. “Some kind of medical lab?”

“Hardly,” Natasha answers. “They were a powerful med firm, specializing in genetic research. They were started by a guy who designed bio-weapons with Howard Stark.”

“Can’t say they were always exactly reputable,” Clint intones. “But they did manage to get a big following in the scientific community. No surprise, really, that some new facility popped up even after the company was supposedly shut down.”

“And no surprise that someone like Tessa would want to work there,” Natasha says simply.

“True,” Clint declares. “But, she knew something was up. And she was the only one there willing to help me figure out what it was.”

“What was it?” Bucky asks.

“Long story short? They were engineering a gene that would mutate when exposed to radioactive energy.” He frowns briefly. “I’m still not really sure about the science of it, but the theory was that, if they could introduce it into a human host, and then expose the host to radioactive material, they could create a… super person.”

Bucky grimaces. “A super soldier?”

He cocks his head as if to say, maybe. “The higherups didn’t really share their plans with Doc… and she was the only one who shared anything with me.”

“So wait,” Natasha interrupts, suddenly onto something. “The radioactive genes, or whatever they were… the samples that Tessa accused Calvin of stealing – ”

“One and the same.” He clears his throat before going on. “I shared some confidential intel with Doc about what Genetech had been up to all those years ago. And she agreed to hand over some files on the work they’d been doing. But before she could get them all copied, the facility went on lockdown – with us trapped in it – because samples of the nearly perfected genes had been stolen. She knew right away who did it. Went on a little tirade in the office while alarms were going off around us. I just wanted to get the hell out of there, and she’s mumbling and yelling about how that son of a bitch had sworn he was there for her and not some damn job.” He smiles and shakes his head. “Whew, she was pissed.”

“How did you get out?” Natasha asks. Her chin rests on her fist as she watches the man, clearly enthralled by his story.

“Right, well. First we got caught. Armed guards rushed the office, saw we were stealing files. Chaos ensues… yada yada yada,” he says, waving his hand in a glib gesture. “I got shot. Doc let loose.”

Bucky frowns. “She used her powers?”

“Yep. Smoked ‘em. All eight of them. They just… dropped.” He takes in a deep breath. “She got us out of there and we holed up in this old factory outside of town while she fixed me up.” He turns to Bucky and says, utter sincerity lacing his words, “That was about two weeks before my daughter was born. If not for Doc, I never would have gotten to know my little girl. Never would’ve even made Nathaniel.” With a small smile, he tells him, “I’m never gonna be able to repay her for that.”

Natasha scoffs. “Sounds like you never would’ve been in that position if it hadn’t been for that asshole Calvin.”

“Oh ho,” Clint says, raising a brow, “So now you agree he’s an asshole? Is your crush fading?”

She shrugs. “He’s still hot as hell. But it sounds like he almost got two of my best friends killed. So if I meet him, I might just have to end him.”

Bucky looks to Clint, curiosity lacing his features. “You said you met him?”

“Ah, yeah,” he breathes out. “During my first meeting with Doc… I showed up a little early at this bar and saw them together. He was laughing and whispering in her ear and shit. And she was looking not amused. I stopped him on his way out of the bar… asked if he was an American… you know, play the whole what a small world card. He told me he was in Minsk on business, but would only be in town a few more days. I asked about the woman he was with at the bar, if she was his girlfriend… small talk,” he says with a wink. “The guy just laughs and says when I want her to be. Prick. Then he lights up a cigarette, shakes my hand, and disappears into the night.”

“And no one ever caught him? After stealing the samples?” Natasha asks.

“Nah. Doc said he was sort of a mercenary… doing whatever needed to be done for whoever was the highest bidder. So it was no surprise he managed to disappear. That guy in Africa, the one that Ultron got the vibranium from? Saw Calvin with him in some photos taken about ten years back. That’s the kind of guy he is. Anyway, it was just a few months after Minsk that he got made by MI-6… doing some kind of dirty deal. But then he conveniently got blown up in a car bomb before they could nail him.”

Bucky lets out an irritated huff from his corner of the van. “Nice,” he says with a nod. “Good story. I feel much better about this guy now.”

Clint laughs and slaps him on the shoulder. “The takeaway from all of this is that Doc’s been done with that guy for years. And she knows who he really is. She’s not gonna get sucked into his lies or manipulation.”

“I never really expected her to,” he mumbles.

Clint takes in the thoughtful expression on Bucky’s face and adds, “She’s grown up a lot since then. I, for one, think she’s been making much better decisions.”

The corner of Natasha’s mouth quirks up. “Yeah, from asshole mercenary to brooding ex-assassin.”

Clint tosses a reproachful look over his shoulder at her. “Even I think that was crass.” He turns back to Bucky. “Sarge, after what she did for me, I’ll have Doc’s back for life. So if I thought she was wasting her time with someone who didn’t deserve her, I’d chase him off in a heartbeat.”

Bucky cocks his head at the man to his right. “You haven’t been trying to chase me off these last couple years?” he asks with a smirk. “You’re saying this is just how you are?”

Clint snorts. “Hilarious. See?” he says, turning to Natasha. “They’re made for each other.”

She throws up a silencing hand and presses the earpiece into her ear. “We’re on,” she says, tone suddenly all business. “The asshole is in the building.”

[cath-with-a-c]

Nothing and Everything, 4/7

in which the rules are broken

Wordcount: ~3,1k words

TW: underage drinking, physical and emotional abuse

part 1 part 2 part 3

2002

This thing was bound to go to shit, but it was too late to quit. You don’t quit drinking after you’ve already taken a few swigs, right?

“It could use some spice, to be honest,” Desmond drawled, swirling his drink in the water bottle and taking another measured sip. “Cinnamon would work, I guess.”

Rob gave him an unimpressed look. “Since when are you a cocktail expert?” he blurted out, leaning on the tree behind him. The world was slightly askew around the edges, but the feeling would pass soon.

At least he hoped so. They had maybe a few minutes left before they’d have to get back.

Desmond gave him crooked, one-sided grin and grabbed a piece of candied fruit from the packet between them. He had a little blush high up on his cheeks. “Since I have taste, dude,” he scoffed and dropped fruit into his mouth.

Rob rolled his eyes giving his friend a little shove. What Desmond tasted he didn’t know, for him, this was just a weird mix of apple juice and booze burning its way down the throat, that was becoming gradually less awful with every swig, just as Rob's head was getting lighter and lighter.

It had all started when Maisie told them she'd managed to steal a bottle of whiskey from her father’s secret cabinet, and she had been ready to go all communist and distribute it equally to every kid over the age of fourteen. The distribution itself had been the main problem - because one, it had to be evenly measured and two, alcohol was off limits on the Farm, meaning they needed to somehow cover their tracks.

The way around getting caught in the act had taken a few more days, until today they were finally tasting and toasting their victory, 2.8 ounces per water bottle, with apple juice on top to hide the smell.

“There goes another rule,” Desmond said, letting his head fall against the tree, eyes closed. Rob watched, all but hypnotized, as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with another swig. “We’ve been drinking for fifteen minutes and the world didn’t end. How surprising.”

“And how many left?” Rob asked, taking one more sip too.

“Four,” Desmond drawled, eyes still closed, and then amended. “Well, three, you can’t really break fourth while still being here, so. Three, I guess.”

He took a big sip and grimaced. “Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” he said in a mocking tone. “More like “everything we say is true, and nothing is permitted unless we say so”, for fuck's sake.”

Rob didn't answer, taking another swig instead. He didn't really want to argue with Desmond on this again. The rising level of spite and edge in Desmond’s argument was getting uncomfortable, The Creed was there to protect and guide them, why try to tear it down so much, especially when using it?

To his relief, Desmond wasn’t really in a fighting mood too. He huffed a sigh, swirling his drink absently, and glanced down on his watch. “Ten minutes before break ends, guess we better head out,” he said, taking one more gulp, putting the bottle down under the log they were sitting on and getting up.

Rob nodded, setting down his own drink and gingerly getting up too. He still had enough sobriety left to realize that, even if his feet were steady enough, any and all acrobatics were out of the question.

Desmond, who seemed surprisingly better at holding his liquor, put a steadying hand over Rob’s shoulders. “Let’s take a long way back, okay?”

They’ve crossed the woods, heading back along the running track that surrounded the Farm as some sort of old fortifications, red stripes on the trees marking every hundred feet. The walk through familiar woods cleared Rob’s head a little, and, by the time they’ve reached the Farm, he was pretty sure no one could tell he was tipsy.

He turned his head to Desmond to say as much when all of a sudden Desmond’s hand on his shoulder tensed and he took it off. “Mom,” he greeted in a forcefully light tone that nearly made Rob cringe.

He turned back to see Mrs. Miles briskly walking towards them with a deep frown on her face. She stopped just a few feet ahead, arms crossed over her chest, brown eyes hard. “Son,” she replied, mimicking his voice. “Be a dear, let me smell your breath.”

Rob’s stomach dropped. “That’s a weird request, mom,” Desmond said lightly, and Maria scowled at him.

“Now,” she demanded icily, and Desmond’s shoulders dropped. Mrs. Miles looked at both of their guilty faces for a few seconds and nodded. "With me."

She led them to the center of the Farm in dead silence. Rob sneaked a glanced at Desmond, who was looking straight ahead, and Rob wasn’t sure he was even blinking.

In front of the central hall, there was a group of teens surrounded by a group of adults. Rob counted the others hastily. Five. Apart from them, there were five others, meaning that two weren't caught, and, aside from clearly anxious Maisie and red-eyed Colin, everyone seemed more or less fine.

As if echoing Rob's thoughts, Desmond sighed in relief and, glancing at him, drew a letter S in the air.

Oh, that's right. Sammy wasn't there. And Daria. The two nerds must've been too busy for a drink. Or just sneaky enough, who cares, it was a relief either way.

"I think that's all of them," Maria said, joining other disgruntled adults. "Where's Bill?"

Ned, Maisie's father nodded at the central hall. "Said he'd be in a moment." he then gave the teens a sidelong glance. "The whole lot of them, eh? That's new. Do you know where they've got the stuff?"

Maisie visibly tensed at his words, and Desmond gently patted her on the back.

"It's gonna be fine," he whispered just loud enough for her and Rob to hear, a comforting lie. Rob could honestly appreciate his effort

"No, they wouldn't tell," Colin's mother, Theo, grumbled, eyeing her son.

“They will, eventually,” Maria assured her, and Rob shivered a little.

The chatter died, as William Miles emerged from the central hall with Rob's own dad in tow. His face was a particular kind of stormy, but compared to William, he was completely chill.

"Line up!" William barked and before Rob could even comprehend what was said, his legs moved, placing him between Desmond and Colin. Their shoulders brushed and Rob realized that Desmond was tense, as if ready for an attack.

William paced in front of them, looking every teen in the face, like he was trying to read their minds, but not sparing Desmond even a glance. "Which one of you did it?“ he asked in a chillingly even voice. "You better tell me, or you are all going to be punished as severely as whoever started it. Think about it.“

The only answer he got was silence. Rob carefully watched as the muscles of William’s face twitched, and felt a little wave of weird satisfaction. They weren't all best friends, but there was no way they would tattle. No one was going to throw Maisie under the bus, no one-

"I did it," Desmond said, in a monotone. He almost sounded bored. "It was my idea."

Rob turned to him, almost choking on air. Desmond was looking straight ahead, with the same blank stare that had been haunting Rob's dreams for years.

For a few moments the silence around them was deafening like everything has stopped until it was broken by a cry:

"Wait, no, it's not him, it's me!“ Maisie stepped forward, visibly trembling. "I stole the bottle, not Desmond!“

William pinned her to the spot with the same icy stare. "Ms. Snow, as commendable it is to stand up for your peers, you shouldn't try to take the blame for my son."

Maisie made a strangled sound. "But-" she started again only to be cut off by Desmond.

"Mais. Stop it," he said, turning to her. "You know you didn't do it."

He then turned again, calmly looking his father in the eyes. "I did it. I stole the bottle from Mr. Snow's cabinet."

He continued, explaining the steps he took, sounding so sure, Rob was deterred for a moment. Desmond was selling it like a good actor sells a role. As if nudged, Rob looked at adults, who were murmuring about themselves, nodding along.

“Why am I not surprised,” Maria sighed, looking tired.

It dawned on Rob that this was something expected, they were expecting Desmond to be the one behind this.

Suddenly Rob remembered, how lucky they seemed as kids, how a lot of problems and pranks, guaranteed to get them a whooping, would go unnoticed.

Had they really?

"Step forward, Desmond," William's voice cut through his thoughts. Desmond's shoulder, tense and hot under thin t-shirt brushed Rob's and he barely curbed the urge to grab his friend by the arm.

“You have disappointed me, son,” William said in a low, flat tone, and Desmond rolled his eyes.

“Big fucking news,” he said, spitefully, and William backhanded him in an instant, making his head whip to the side. The slap resonated, making Rob wince.

“What,” William all but growled, sounding like a big, angry dog. “Did I tell you about swearing, boy?”

“Sorry, I forgot,” Desmond murmured, gingerly touching his cheek, shoulders dropping, fight seemingly drained from him.

“Bill,” Maria reprimanded, glancing around. “Not in front of the others.”

William spared her a quick look and nodded. “You are right,” he said and turned to adults. “Everyone is dismissed. Desmond, with us.”

Without another word, he walked away and Desmond followed, like a puppet on strings, throwing Rob one last glance over the shoulder.

Rob wanted to run after him, to ask, why the hell he would do something so stupid, but his own father had already taken him by the shoulder and was leading him away, to their home.

Because his father was a virtual saint, Rob was let off the hook with minimal casualties - he just sighed, asked Rob to be more responsible in the future and shifted the curfew by a couple of hours. William wasn’t so lenient, though - the next day after mandatory morning training, he made all of those caught line up in front of the other kids for a public shunning, giving them an almost an hour lecture on why their actions are a disgrace to the community and the Brotherhood at large, most of which went completely over Rob’s head because he was too busy trying to find Desmond anywhere.

Desmond wasn’t there. Which, probably, shouldn’t have been that surprising - that happened before, he would disappear after they got busted, and then he’d be back later in the day, but something wasn’t sitting comfortably in Rob’s chest. They’d never, like, had been caught breaking an actual rule before, and Desmond’s confession certainly didn't give him any points too.

The lecture concluded with the punishment being dealt - they’d have to run ten miles instead of five every morning for the next four weeks, and they’re not allowed to have water bottles on them for the same period of time - and the teens were finally allowed to resume their daily routines, which Rob did, still being on a lookout for Desmond.

Desmond didn’t show up throughout the day, and the next day, and the day after that. Rob, dread settled comfortably in the pit of his stomach, asked around, but no one has seen him since the Whiskey Incident. As Maisie, who also noticed his absence and was visibly distraught by that, put it, this was like Desmond had disappeared from the face of the earth.

By the sixth day, Rob had almost worked up the courage to just go and ask Mrs. Miles about Desmond. He was sitting on their clearing, having just seen Sam and Penny off, sharpening the knives and rehearsing in his head what he was going to say, when-

“Rob,” he heard and his head whipped up. Desmond was standing in the middle of the clearing, looking at him with a half-smile.

“Desmond!” Rob dropped the knife and sprang on his feet, breathing freely for the first time in days, the knot in his chest dissipating.

He almost crushed Desmond with a hug, provoking a small laugh.

“Dude, I was gone for… for… for a few days, stop acting like I was in a war or something,” he said finally and lightly tapped Rob on the back. “Let go, I wanna sit.”

Rob did let go, with a momentary reluctance and got a good look on his friend. It was a habit of his since they were little and just getting into training and trouble - scan for injuries first. Desmond looked fine, more or less, maybe a little bit paler than usual, and his gaze wandered a little. As soon as Rob let go, he swayed a little before plopping on the ground with a wince.

“Dude, where’ve you been?” Rob asked, sitting down too. “It’s been days!”

“How many?” Desmond suddenly asked and Rob frowned.

“It’s Friday now, it’s been five full days since the whiskey,” he said slowly. “Desmond, what happened?”

Desmond shrugged, leaning against the tree with another wince and draping an arm over his eyes. “I was in the Box,” he finally answered.

Oh. Rob knew the place, was there with Desmond once, kinda long ago, when they got caught stealing cookies by Maria and were put there to wait for their fathers. It wasn’t really a box, just a small room with an equally small adjacent bathroom. It was eerie, dark, with the only light being the one coming from the small, grey-tinted bathroom window, nothing but a sleeping bag to sit on and pretty much no sound but his and Desmond’s breathing, because the walls were soundproofed. It has only been a couple of hours, but Rob was still uncomfortable remembering it.

“Wait, you’ve been there for the whole time?” he asked, incredulously. When Desmond didn’t answer, he shook his head. “Dude...That’s long. They didn’t let you out at all? What about food?”

“Nah, they didn’t,” Desmond replied in tired monotone. “They don’t talk to me when I’m in the Box. And I was fed, once a day, not that it helped a lot. They got me oats, you know I hate those. I ended up barfing most of them up anyway.”

Rob silently got up, trying and failing to imagine how it could feel - alone, in the dark, no sense of time, no food, just darkness, and walls and your own breathing. It felt nauseating, Moving over to his stash, he pulled out a couple of protein bars. When he turned back, Desmond was already lying on the ground, eyes still closed. Rob tossed the bars on his chest.

“Eat,” Rob said, settling down again.

“Thanks. Don’t worry, It’s fine,” Desmond said forcefully, starting to unwrap the first bar. “At least I didn’t need to train with the mess on my back, that’d be shitty.”

Rob stilled “What mess?” he asked slowly. Instead of answering, Desmond just sat upright with a wince and pulled at his t-shirt. making it ride up. His back was painted with welts, most of them already yellow, but some looking like they’d barely scabbed over. The nausea returned in full force.

“Your father did that?” he blurted out, and Desmond sighed, letting the thin cotton fall down again.

“Yep. Speaking of which, I should probably go,” he said with regret, looking at his watch. “He and mom are out of the house, but I think they’ll be back soon.”

Rob nodded and got up first, grabbing Desmond by the wrist and pulling him to his feet.

The short walk back to the Farm was filled with the crackling of the wrap, as Desmond devoured the bars and asked after others in-between the bites. Rob answered, giving him as much info as he knew, and suddenly realized, that others mostly got out as easy as him. Colin had it a little rough with his strict mom, but otherwise, everyone was… fine. Even Maisie's father decided it was a clever enough prank to be treated as such. Don't do it again, no dessert for a couple of weeks, and that's all.

Desmond hummed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Good," he said. "I probably won't be coming to our place in some time."

"What? Why?" Rob asked, frowning.

"Dad said if I have enough time to steal bottles and give my peers the alcohol poisoning, that means I have enough time for more training and chores,” Desmond shrugged. “So… Not really sure if I'd have long enough broken to come over."

Robert wanted to reply, but they have already stepped out of the woods behind Desmond’s house. His window on the second floor, looking out to the forest was wide open.

"Gimme a boost?" Desmond asked and Rob nodded, standing with his back to the wall and locking his hands. Desmond stopped and looked around again. Rob could only see a part of his face, but he could tell longing in Desmond’s eyes. Longing and anger.

"You know what?" Desmond said, turning back. He stepped into Rob's personal space, warm brown eyes shining feverishly. His mouth was twisted into an almost hateful sneer. "Fuck the rules."

He then stepped up and Rob boosted him without thinking, confused by this sudden change of attitude. When he glanced up, Desmond was already in, looking out of the window, face all hard lines, jaw set.

"Fuck. The. Rules," he repeated before disappearing into the house without a goodbye.

Rob stayed, frozen to the spot for a few moments, and then turned around and walked away. There was some new emptiness inside him, and he suddenly felt very tired. He could still see Desmond’s angry face in his mind.

William Miles passed him by, cold and confident as ever, and Rob stopped abruptly, every hair on his head standing up. He thought of yellow bruises and red welts, of a dark, empty room, how all he needed to do was be at home in 1900 hours instead of 2100.

Why was William so harsh on Desmond? Wasn’t beating and five days in the Box enough of a punishment?

“Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” a little voice in the back of his head reminded him. Rob scoffed and shook his head.

Maybe everything was permitted, he thought defiantly. But this shouldn't be.

part 5

ao3 link

[pepperonijem]

IDK Single || Steve Rogers

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: you and Steve have broken up and although you try to hide it, you just don’t know how to be single. {Neighbors!AU; written for @bucky-at-bedtime’s 1.5k writing challenge}

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: drink dranking, also it’s a lil angsty?

A/N: this is based off of the song “IDK Single” by LOOTE. Give it a listen! They have a bunch of good post-breakup songs that are upbeat and make you feel a lil bit better even when you’re single. I stan them. (also shoutout to my girl Upo for beta reading this!!) And a big frick u to writer’s block, this is the first thing I’ve written in a month that I feel proud of

Thump. Thump. Thump. Was it the bassline of the song or was that the blood pounding in your head?  Was that a pair of hands snaking around your waist or was it just the alcohol taking a toll on your liver? Honestly, at this point, was there even a difference? Every sensation was dulled down and reduced to nothing.

The only music you heard was when he was speaking, and the only time you felt electricity was when he was touching you, but he took all of that away with him when he walked out of your life. Unfortunately however, he was still your neighbor, so most of your nights were spent trying to get away from him and getting him out of your thoughts. So here you were, at some random party at a club in SoHo trying to start over with whoever was grinding against you right now -- it definitely wasn’t him. But you wished it was. Deep down, you really did. You tried to swing your hips with the beat and focus on the drunken whispers being spoken into your ear, but it was no use, because it wasn’t his voice. And well, you can’t help it. You don’t know how to be single.

“I guess this is it.” His voice was tired. Tired of shouting, tired of calling out to you, tired of trying. It wasn’t sadness that laced his voice anymore, it wasn’t even anger. Emotion had left him weeks ago. “I guess so.” The voice that escaped your lips was not your own. It was the voice of a broken person, and you were done trying to hide it. “Goodbye, Steve.”

That was the end of almost a year of sleepless nights and spontaneous dates and whispered I love you’s, but unfortunately not the end of your feelings for him. It had been over a month since you last saw Steve. He was a man of routine, and you were thankful for it because it made it so much easier for you to avoid him. You spent your days holed up in your bedroom watching Netflix with your headphones in so that Steve wouldn’t be able to hear you watching The Princess Diaries for the 26th time, and you only left your apartment when you knew he was in his. You often went out to clubs and parties every night in other parts of New York to avoid him and his friends, and only came home after 3 am when you knew Steve was deep asleep. Sometimes, you swear you can hear his faint snoring through the thin wall that separated your bedrooms, and the sound made your heart skip. You would mentally curse yourself, but then stay up for another hour reminiscing and missing the feeling of Steve’s skin on yours.

You thought about that night constantly. His voice still ringing in your head, drowning out the upbeat music that washed over the club. You stepped away from the dance floor, having to pry the guy’s hands off your waist, and headed towards the bar. The lingering thoughts of Steve were a sign that you were not intoxicated enough. You sat down on a stool and flagged down the bartender. “Give me a double of whatever your strongest thing is here,” you asked. The   bartender gave you a concerned look but then slid over a shot glass. You downed it quickly and savored the burn of the alcohol down your throat. You spun around in your stool to look around at the sea of people and all of a sudden you felt trapped. Part of you wanted to fool around, find someone new, but the other part of you just wanted to be alone.

In another club in another part of the city, Steve leaned against the bar counter, sipping on a beer. The alcohol had virtually no effect on him, but he liked the comfort it brought. He looked around, and sighed. “God, it’s crowded,” he said aloud. He turned around, expecting to see your face, but instead saw an empty bar stool. It was the fourth time tonight he’s done that, tried speaking to you but forgetting you were gone. He made eye contact with Bucky who was standing across the room with his arm wrapped around a pretty girl.He looked at Steve with concern in his eyes, but Steve smiled and raised his beer up and Bucky smiled in satisfaction before redirecting his attention. Steve’s smile faltered once out of Bucky’s gaze, but he hoped it was enough for Bucky to think Steve was doing okay. This is the third party Bucky brought him to in the last two weeks, but each one seemed even more draining than the last. He really thought that after two weeks he’d feel better, over you even, but if he was being honest, you had him fuc-- Steve was distracted from his thoughts by a tap on his shoulder.

He turned around quickly to see an almost familiar face. It was almost yours. He pasted a smile on his face once again and smiled at the stranger who was now speaking to him. He had absolutely no idea what they were saying, as all Steve could think about was if their nose was just a little bit smaller, or their eyes just a little bit brighter, he would be looking at you. Steve nodded in response, just to be polite, and was honestly surprised when all of a sudden there was a napkin with a phone number stuffed into his hand. The stranger was gone again and Steve looked down at the number. He shoved it into his pocket, but he knew he wasn’t going to be calling any time soon. He almost felt guilty about it, but he knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere and he didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. He really thought that by now he’d feel different, but he still missed you. Bucky walked over to him with the same girl he was with earlier and pat him on the back. “I saw you talking to someone earlier, pal.” Bucky teased. “Did’ya get a number?”

Steve looked down and let out a sad chuckle. “Yeah, I did,” he admitted. He of course left out the fact that he won’t even call it. Bucky playfully punched his shoulder. “And who’s this lovely lady?” he asked Bucky.

“This is Dot,” Bucky introduced. She reached out and shook Steve’s hand politely. “We’re about to head out, maybe take a walk.” Bucky wrapped an arm around Dot and she looked up lovingly at him. “Do you have cab fare for tonight?”

Steve nodded in response. “Yeah, no worries, you two have a good night.” He waved goodbye to the couple as they made their way out of the building. He looked down at his watch and saw that it was already 2 in the morning and set his beer back on the counter. He followed them out to the street and quickly hailed down a cab, giving the driver his address and asking him to step on it. Steve didn’t mind being home late, really, but he knew how you were. He knew that you haven’t been coming home until he did, because he knew you were trying to avoid him. He could very well be out until dawn, but he also knew you hated being out past 3, because you thought it was the haunted hour. Steve had always teased you for your superstition, but he had taken your fears to heart. He also knew that you tried to stay out after him because it helped you to feel like you were winning. Even now, after losing you, he still wanted you to win.

Within a few minutes he was back at his apartment. He unlocked his door and walked in, enjoying the quiet and the stillness of his home. He changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and plopped down on his bed. He folded his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the sweet release of sleep to take him over.

You stumbled your way back to the bar, demanding for another shot of tequila. “Sorry pal, but I gotta cut you off, you’ve clearly had too much,” the bartender reprimanded. You huffed in response but didn’t argue. “I’ll call you a cab, it’s almost 3,” she said. You nodded and waited on a bar stool until she let you know that the cab was waiting outside. You hopped in and managed to give the driver your address, despite slurring your words. You dozed off in the car but woke back up when the driver came to an abrupt stop at your building.

The stairs were your next obstacle and you were doing fine until they started moving like the magic stairs in Hogwarts. You took your time with each step and by the time you made it to your door, it was well past 3 am. You felt jitters go up your spine as your mind wandered off to the scary stories your cousins used to tell you when you were younger. You managed to pull out your keys and tried hard to jam them into the lock. Unfortunately, you were way too intoxicated to have any control over your fine motor skills and you relented to just banging against the door in hopes it would just magically open.

Well, in this case magic was real, because after several minutes of desperate banging, the door opened.

“Steve?” Your voice came out as barely more than a whisper. Even though the alcohol blurred your vision, you could recognize the scent of his cologne and the width of his shoulders anywhere. His presence being so close to you overwhelmed your senses and you began to sober up enough to realize that you had been banging on the wrong door this whole time. You cleared your throat and looked at Steve apologetically. “I-I’m sorry I thought this was my door, but I guess I was knocking on yours. I’ll just—“ you turned to walk over to the door beside Steve’s, and pulled your keys out once again.

Before you could unlock your door however, Steve grabbed hold of your forearm, sending shivers through you and making you pause to look back at him. For the first time in weeks you saw something in his eyes: pain. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and what used to be washed of electric blue in his irises were dulled down to a stormy gray and you felt a sting in your heart at the sight. His eyebrows furrowed together as he began to speak. “Please,” he begged. “Come home.”

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[redrobin-detective]

So here’s a bday present for my dear friend @rave-lights who asked for a prompt on AFO/AM showing Izuku how to tie a tie. A little bit of both got in here, a bit cute and bittersweet. Happy (belated) birthday friend!

“Midoriya, my boy,” Izuku turned at the sound of All Might’s voice. He’d been getting some early morning training with his mentor in order to get a better handle of One For All but they was going to be late if he didn’t hurry up and change.

“Yes?” He asked, fumbling with his tie while trying to give All Might his full attention.

“Where did you learn to tie a tie, young man,” the hero coughed uncomfortably. “It’s well, it’s not wrong per say but it’s not really the usual method.” Izuku looked down at his tie, done in its usual messy, swollen knot.

“Oh uh, I don’t know, my mom showed me how to do it and I guess I never figured it out right and this is how it ended up. No one said anything so I figured it was okay…” Izuku muttered, All Might chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“You’re not in trouble, my boy; I just figured you might need someone to show you how it’s done. I’ve tied so many ties in my life I could do it with one hand tied behind my back,” the hero bragged, groaning a little as he squatted down to Izuku’s level and gently undid his messy handiwork. Izuku flushed, acutely aware of how familial and intimate this was.

“Now watch me, you hold both ends like this then you bring the wide end under the small end like this,” All Might said, slowly walking Izuku through the whole process. Izuku paid attention, he listened to everything All Might had to say, but he couldn’t help but feel warm that his hero was taking the time to help him work through such an everyday problem. Usually a father would help with this sort of thing but Izuku had never known his and All Might was more than an adequate stand-in.

“Alright, all done!” All Might announced, showing off the perfectly flat and straight tie. “See? Not so difficult, now undo it and try it again.” Izuku nodded, carefully undoing All Might’s expert tie job and working through it on his own. He frowned as he worked the silky material in his hands, he’d watched the steps and understood them but his hands weren’t working all that well and despite stopping and starting twice, his tie ended up the same old mess.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said, feeling himself getting upset. All Might had taken the time to show him how to do it and still Izuku failed. It was such a silly thing to get upset over and yet here he was, the old mess as always. “I-I guess I’m so used to doing it the other way and my right hand is kind of stiff and-”

“Don’t worry about it, Young Midoriya,” All Might grinned, patting his head again. “I just wanted to make sure you knew. You can keep on practicing if you want but, if I may be honest, I’m fond of your silly tie. It’s so you,” All Might said as he stood himself up. His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as he looked at his watch. “And we’re running late! Come along my boy! Aizawa will be quite upset if we show up late.” All Might said, transforming into his muscle form and speeding off. Izuku blinked in the dust left behind before he checked his own watch.

“W-wait for me!” Izuku shouted, racing behind as fast as he could but without control of One For All yet there’s no way he was going to catch up. He sprinted the distance to the school, his lopsided tie flopping against his chest. But it didn’t matter if it normal or not, all that mattered is that someone had taken the time to show him and accepted his paltry attempts anyway.

And that almost makes up for that fact that All Might left him to face Aizawa-sensei’s wrath alone when he showed up late.

Bonus

“Sensei, are you almost done,” Tomura drawled, fidgeting under the scrutiny. He normally liked it when Sensei paid attention to him, especially for something like this. But occasionally Tomura felt like Sensei wasn’t talking to him, when he was gentle like this, called Tomura “son” and other names, he got the distinct feeling Sensei was imagining someone else in his place.

“Almost, it’s important for a young man looking to make an impression to know how to tie their tie,” Sensei lectured patiently, an unfamiliar little happy hum in his tone. Despite being virtually blind, he manipulated the tie with ease. “There we are, what a handsome young man you make.” Now Tomura knew Sensei wasn’t talking about him.

“Thanks,” he muttered, feeling very uncomfortable in the formal wear along with the heavy knowledge that he’ll never be whoever Sensei wants him to be.

“Now it’s your turn, a man like yourself needs to learn to do things on his own,” Sensei added, undoing the tie just as gently as he’d tied it. Tomura stared down at the fabric. Despite the fact that Sensei had explained it and demonstrated it, Tomura had no idea how to replicate it. He carefully held the two strands and considered his options. He’d rather be fighting the heroes. “Take your time.”

He started to twist the tie when Sensei hummed in disapproval, Tomura panicked. He obviously was doing something wrong, he turned the tie the other way in an attempt to fix whatever he’d messed up. However, his pinky finger had run along the tie which resulted in the whole thing crumbling in his hands. He looked at the dust on his hands and dress shirt and wanted to lash out at someone, anyone, for this embarrassing failure.

“It’s alright Tomura,” Sensei sighed drolly, the earlier lightness now absent from his voice. Whoever Sensei had been comparing him to in his head, Tomura obviously didn’t measure up. Again. “We’ll try again another day; I know I shouldn’t expect so much from you after just one lesson.” Sensei stood up and walked towards the door. “You get changed out of those clothes; I know you don’t care for them. I’m feeling a bit tired so I will be returning to my chambers.” With that, Sensei shut the door and was gone.

Tomura growled to himself, angrily pulling on the stupid, ugly clothes Sensei had put on him. After a few minutes, he stood there huffing with his clothes in tatters, half torn and half disintegrated. Why could he never measure up to the person Sensei wanted him to be? Why couldn’t he be the son he knew Sensei was trying to mold him into? He angrily swiped at his face, trying to fight back frustrated tears. Tomua swore one day he would be good enough, he would take down All Might and learn how to tie a tie and everything that Sensei wanted of him.

And one day, Sensei would look at him with that same warmth and pride and Tomura will know that’s it’s all for him, that faceless nameless person he’s been competing against completely gone from Sensei’s mind. One day, not today, but one day soon.

[sinunamor]

Hey @nerdy-flower this took a while, a long while, but here’s a snippet of the expanded fic that, yes, is currently still in the works. Was it worth the wait? No. But do I still want to share it? Yes, because I want to share the love lol. As opposed to this your fics are definitely worth the wait. Sending all the luv <3

If you were to ask Ernest: how did it all begin? He would mention his father’s missing left shoe.

“Ernest, not funny,” Hugo’s deep voice echoed through their rather narrow hallway. His usual straight, proud gait caught in a limp.

It was those brown, pleather Oxford types, Ernest would say, not actual Oxfords but those copies one can find for a good 25 dollars at those super department stores. The kind where you can grab chips in one aisle and a good pair of cheap earbuds in the other.

“Ernesto Vega, this is childish even by your own standards,” Hugo continued, stopping in front of a closed door. Its white surface brightly decorated with skate/surf shop stickers and a black and white mini-print homage to Biggie Smalls. In the middle, a small dirtied whiteboard, whose original use failed and was now a temporary space to practice graffiti. Hugo absentmindedly ran his finger through a particularly complex one, erasing “yung” but stopping at…”stanback”?

“Ernest,” Hugo continued, rapping on the door. “This is ridiculous, I need to go.”

If there was anything stereotypically gay about his father, Ernest would comment, it was his obsession with shoes.

Hugo sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling and supplicating to whoever is up there (may his father rest in eternal glory he believed in) before opening the door and finding Ernest stomach down on his bed being idle with his phone. The boy’s earbuds weren’t even on!

“Dad!” Ernest frowned, plopping his phone to the side. “Why do you always do that? I told you already, what if I was dressing?”

Conveniently ignoring that detail, Hugo stepped into the room, causing his son to sigh in defeat and go back to whatever game he was on.

“Ernest. My light-brown pleather, mock-Oxford shoe, the one with the dark brown laces, where is it?” Hugo asked.

Ernest furrowed his brow even tighter, tapping on his phone with fervor. “How am I supposed to know? I don’t keep track of your shoes.”

Assume and exhibit good-will Hugo, assume and exhibit good-will. Ernest might have not seen them at all. Hugo tried again.

“I thought you might know where it is,” he started carefully. “Since I have worn them recently and they are usually left in the shoe rack near the front door.”

Ernest tsked loudly. “I d’know where they are,” he said, eyes never prying off the screen. “For all I know, the Duchess could’ve taken it.”

Hugo’s strong brow twitched.

“I told you she could be inside the house so long as you keep her away from my things Ernest! C’mon!” Hugo exclaimed, his hands dancing and showing just outraged he was. His hands went down and lightly slapped the sides of his thighs.

At least it got Ernest’s full attention. The boy doesn’t like to be scolded, so why does he only respond when his tone gets harsher?

“She could’ve taken it while I was not looking!” Ernest looked up. “I swear, I don’t know where your dumb shoes are.”

Hugo shook his head. The pressure of being ready on time coupled with loss of one of his favorite pairs of shoes made the patience reserved for his son sink lower. “Well, now you’re gonna help me find it.”

“What? No!” Ernest shook his head. “I’m not going on a freak search for a shoe!”

“Ernest,” Hugo began. “Damien is going to be here any time now—”

“Then wear another pair!” Ernest rebutted. “You’re acting like you don’t have a bajillion pairs in your closet already.”

“That’s not the point! The point is, the Duchess is your responsibility and you promised to make sure she didn’t chew on our stuff. Now I do not know if she actually took it or if you decided to somehow get back at me for—” The tension between father and son grew.

Then the doorbell rang, their blessed interruption, and at the door, an angel.

“Good evening my love. Looking handsome as always,” Damien smirked, his eyes trailing down to better appreciate the view. It was a nice thought, to know that Hugo had dressed up rather dapper for him. He hoped his more modern approach to dressing in suits (Edwardian in nature yes, but he did look good in it) could only emphasize how handsome his boyfriend looked.

Hugo blushed under his gaze as Damien’s sly spread of lips grew wider. “Although,” Damien tsked softly. “I hope you do not plan on leaving the house without this.”

From out his evening cape he never failed to bring on occasions like this, Damien presented the missing light brown pleather mock-Oxford shoe, the one with the dark brown laces.

Oh.

Ernest, who had passed by the entrance, (to get some snacks dammit, it’s not like he wanted to see the vampire) looked at the shoe as if it done him great wrong.

“Ohmygod! See? I told you I didn’t have that stupid shoe!”

A fatherly sort of embarrassment went through Hugo. It was the worst kind, knowing you had messed up and blamed your own child for something he did not do.

“Oh dear, was there a misunderstanding?” Damien muttered. “I knew I should have notified you earlier about this. I had found it underneath my bed.”

Hugo’s blush deepened. “Tha-that’s right,” he chuckled weakly. “I had ah—” He pushed up his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “I had forgotten that…that was in your house.”

Ernest had squeezed in to take his rightful place at the front door, scrunching up his nose and looking at Hugo and Damien as they talked.

“How did you even, even, forget that you had one shoe at Damien’s?” Ernest scowled.

“This happened in the weekend prior, I believe,” Damien muttered, furrowing his brow in thought. “Although that was when I also returned your dress shirt and your jacket.” He let out an amused chuckle. “My love, did you really go back home wearing one shoe?”

Hugo sighed tiredly. “I came home with no shoes, I just ah,” he began, taking off his glasses and giving them a quick shine with the ends of his shirt. “Rolled up everything and I guess, brought home nothing.” Like a teen trying to return home unnoticed at the crack of dawn.

“Well that settles it,” Damien said.

“You guys been having sleepovers?” Ernest continued after he processed everything. “Since when?!”

Hugo opened his mouth to answer but hesitated and shook his head. “Amor I’m sorry, please come in,” he tried to smile sweetly in the presence of an incredulous son. “I need to put this on.”

“Thank you,” Damien smiled, leaning in for a firm chaste kiss. He was always rather proud of his lofty height but appreciated the slight lean on his toes to catch Hugo’s lips by surprise. Of course, to which Hugo always returned gladly.

“Does Lucien know?!” Ernest continued. “How come he never told?!”

Hugo pulled away, annoyance surging up again. “Lucien doesn’t spend hours in bed on his phone purposefully ignoring his father when he tells him he is going out. That’s how he knew,” he rebutted. Damien patted Hugo’s cheek gently before another bickering session started. “Your shoe?” he whispered. With his experience, the Vega boys would soon sleep it off and restart with breakfast the next morning.

“R-right,” Hugo muttered, taking his left shoe and himself to the couch with a tired plop.

Ernest tsked loudly, making his way towards the room. “Stupid Lucien,” he muttered under his breath.

“Ernesto,” Hugo called in full latino paternal authority, making Ernest pause. Hugo gestured toward Damien with a slight cock of his head. “Ya saludastes?”

Ernest’s shoulders tensed slightly as he turned around slowly. “Hey Damien,” he forced a smirk. Perhaps what irked the boy the most was the fact that he wanted to hate his father’s boyfriend, but the vampire had virtually done nothing to garner any of that hate. It was hard enough finding a justified reason to aim his frustrations at him.

“Good evening Ernest,” Damien answered, his lips spreading in a fond smile. “School was alright, I hope.”

Ernest gave him an ‘OK’ sign and a dopey “I don’t care” smile and went off to the sanctuary of his room.

Feeling strangely disappointed, Damien settled himself next to Hugo. From the length and the heaviness of their sighs they both knew didn’t need to say more.

“How was work?” Hugo asked, tying his shoe.

“Same old things, well, slightly petty old things, but still the same,” Damien shrugged, mindlessly observing how those strong fingers can loop knots with such thin laces. “While my team and I are doing routine security check-ups, we wait for the next big office drama to happen. It gets that awfully boring.”

“I’d rather that than angsty teenagers smartassing me any day,” Hugo chuckled, finishing and shuffling closer to Damien and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Damien hummed blissfully and rested his head on that strong broad chest of his.

“We have our fair share at home,” he muttered.

“Yea,” Hugo said, rubbing his hand on Damien’s arm up and down. “But…they’ll come around. We all did. They’re…they’re good kids.”

“I know,” Damien answered, half-lulled by the warmth that forever radiated and bled through his clothes. He blinked and sat up straighter. They weren’t here to cuddle and spend another night indoors, as wonderful as that sounded. They had a reservation in a more upscale restaurant downtown.

“We should start leaving now if we want to avoid traffic,” Damien said. Hugo smiled and gently flicked off a stray lash off his cheek. He was glad Damien chose not to wear contacts that night. His dark eyes emphasized by his make-up were all the more deep and mesmerizing to him.

“Ahh, but now I don’t want to go,” Hugo playfully whined. “Too comfortable here.”

Damien’s chest rumbled in a chuckle. “That would be for the coming weekend my love, but we must hurry now, lest we’ll lose our seats.”

“Not without a kiss,” Hugo smirked, pulling him down.

“Oh alright, if you insist,” Damien rolled his eyes and placed his hands on either side of Hugo’s jaw and met his lips with his own. As if he would deny him. He hummed when he felt those strong fingers run through his hair.

Ernest crept through the narrow hallway, peeking out into the living room to see if they had left. A part of him reminded that his father never left home without saying goodbye, but if he’s too into the vampire right now, Ernest deemed himself easily forgotten. To his slight annoyance and some hidden inner relief, his father was still there on the couch resting his forehead against Damien’s. They were smiling, their shoulders shaking as they laughed over some nerdy shit the other probably said.

Ernest crossed his arms and leaned slightly against the wall, half hidden by the shadows of the warm Ikea lighting. His father looked…happy. He never seen the old man this happy and relaxed since...well damn, since when did Hugo smile this wide when he was married to his dad.

And the feeling sucked, it did. Realizing then that the two people you thought were so in love did not get along after all. Cos you were a kid and your fathers placed you above everything else, even their own happiness.

The happy wrinkles around Hugo’s eyes appeared, Damien slid off his glasses to kiss them. They were being old and sweet and gross, and damn was that all they did in their sleepovers? Nevermind, Ernest did not even want to go there. He speedwalked back into the room to escape such thoughts on his phone.

“Mm, we have…we have to go,” Damien muttered, tilting his head to give Hugo some room. “And your son in his room, you do realize that.”

They were both flushed from an impromptu make-out session. Hugo pulled away and gave him a smirk. “Something for the road,” he replied.

“A road we must get to now,” Damien muttered, a smirk crossing his face. He stood up from the couch and offered his hands. Hugo took them and lifted himself up with a grunt. “Alright, alright,” he relented, smoothing down his suit jacket and pants. “Lemme get my phone and kiss Ernest goodnight.”

Damien looked at him with a raised brow. “Ernest still lets you tuck him in?”

“Ch! No,” Hugo half-scoffed, though his expression began to soften. “I wish though. It’s the little things I miss, helping him brush his teeth, nighttime stories, turning on night lights—”

“Don’t!” Damien interrupted with a furrowed brow. He did not want to think of nighttimes spent with a young Lucien. “Sentimental old man, you will get me started as well. Please do not think about that, not now.”

Hugo smiled softly, making his way towards his son’s room, stopping at that old familiar white door covered in skate/surf stickers and the whiteboard that now has ‘Knock or I won’t listen’ scrawled on it. Hugo rolled his eyes and gently rapped on the door. “Ernest? Ernest we’re leaving, please lock the door,” Hugo called out. A moment later, Ernest opened the door a crack. “Barely?” he asked.

“Yes,” Hugo said, wishing he could open the door wider. “Can you please lock the door behind us?”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” he grumbled, trudging out of his room where he was met with the vampire’s nice guy smile.

“Now remember,” Hugo began. “Do not open the door for no one, and I mean no one, so no ordering pizza—"

Ernest tsked amusedly. “What if its Lucien?”

Damien shook his head. “Lucien is out with his friends and he knows very well what do in case of an emergency. We have our own plan,” he explained. “Or else I would have invited you over, you two would have spent a night at my place.”

Ernest shrugged lightly and looked at Hugo with a smirk. “What if its Mat?” he dared. “Or Robert?”

“Ernest, please,” Hugo said. “You know what I meant by no one.”

“Ch! Fine,” Ernest muttered.

“Mind the Duchess, keep her with you at all times,” Hugo continued. “And don’t forget to put the dishes in the dishwasher, oh and leave the living room light on before you go to bed. We won’t be long but just in case—”

“Yea, yea dad I get it!” Ernest frowned. “I got this! I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“I know,” Hugo answered, sounding strangely defeated. “Just…be safe.”

“You guys are gonna be late,” Ernest crossed his arms.

“Right,” Hugo said, hesitating an approach forward to Ernest. “Good night mijo.”

“G’night and good bye,” Ernest said, holding the door.

“Good night Ernest,” Damien said. “Send my love to the Duchess.”

“Yeah,” Ernest muttered, glancing down and fidgeting the doorknob. He took a good look at their shoes. Such old-timey shoes they both had on.

“Call me if anything,” Hugo said as he went out the door, giving him a quick ruffle of his hair before he was shrugged off.

“Or me,” Damien nodded. “Have fun without us.”

Ernest snorted softly, seeing them out as they walked towards Damien’s car. Piece o’ shit Honda Civic; one would think Damien would drive a hearse.

He saw how Damien opened the shotgun door for his dad and how his dad practically swooned. Damien must’ve said some nerd-ass joke because they were both smiling and laughing like nothing else mattered. Damien even closed the door for him before he took his place in the driver’s seat.

When did Pops ever open the door for Dad? Hell, when did they ever do this kinda crap for each other?

Ernest thought back to the brown pleather mock-Oxford shoe. If dad had left his shoe at Pops’ place, his Pops probably won’t care. He’ll make some comment on how Dad won’t miss the damn thing, that he had bajillions in his closet or that he will give Ernest some money so he could buy him another pair for his birthday.

Ernest caught his dad waving at him through the window, with that carefree smirk on his face. He found himself softly waving back before his father began gesturing for him to go back inside.

Ernest closed the door and locked it, turning on the living room lights before jogging towards the garage door. He found the Duchess panting and waiting loyally for him by the step, slobbered chew toys scattered around her. Ernest smiled wide, patting his thighs to beckon her in. She sat up and barked, the mastiff joining her beloved master in the house and rearing on her hind legs to rest her big front paws on his shoulders. Didn’t matter to him that she was nearly his height, that loving, excitable dog. Ernest chuckled, giving her well-deserved kisses and scritches. They’d spend the rest of the night together in his room, playing tug of war with his old shirts, eating cheeseballs and pizza rolls while streaming some anime. The skirmish between him and his father earlier forgiven, but never truly forgotten.

Because if you’d ask Ernest how his dad and step-dad found each other, he will tell you his dad was missing his left brown pleather mock-Oxford shoe, and that Damien was the one who found and returned his missing half.

[wrestlingisfake]

Summerslam preview

Brock Lesnar vs. Roman Reigns - Reigns defeated Bobby Lashley on Raw to earn this match for Lesnar’s universal championship. 

The story this time is virtually unchanged from their match at Wrestlemania 34--Lesnar doesn’t respect WWE and never shows up to defend the title, Roman is the only guy that could beat him, and this is the last chance before Lesnar leaves to go back to UFC.  Technically this is the last match on Lesnar’s WWE contract, but so was the Mania match until he signed an extension.  So the fact Lesnar is already setting up a UFC title fight with Demetrious Johnson Daniel Cormier does not mean anything to this match--Lesnar could easily sign another extension, retain in Brooklyn, and drop the title in November or something.

Real talk, I am sitting out this show because I don’t want to repeat the cocktease of Roman choking at Mania, and I don’t have faith in WWE to make it up to me.  I already vented about this match extensively, but basically nothing has changed to make it seem like Roman is more likely to win than last time.  Roman hasn’t changed up his game or style, he’s just become more whiny and petulant.  Lesnar hasn’t gotten weaker--the split with Paul Heyman turned out to be a ruse, and even if Heyman does a triple-cross at the show, that’s not going to convince me to order before the show.  Roman did manage to get that “should have won” finish in the cage match at Saudi Arabia, but that super-touch-the-floor-before-the-other-guy power doesn’t really matter in a non-cage match. 

The most important wrinkle added to this match is that it’s the first time since 2015 that Lesnar has been in a title match while a Money in the Bank contract can be used against him.  We won’t know who will have the contract during this match until the Strowman/Owens match is settled, but it can be executed immediately after (or even during) this match to give a third man a chance to steal the championship.  The hype would be that instead of us being pissed when Lesnar wins again, this time when he’s all tired and stuff a second guy comes out and wrecks him.  The problem with that as an incentive to order the show is that Lesnar usually makes winning look so easy that after his matches I tend to think he could go back and clobber five more guys.  Also, my big problem with a Money in the Bank cash-in finish, to slay the dragon Roman never could, is that it leaves Roman looking weak as hell, which would be tolerable except WWE will spend another year trying to fix the mess they made, at the expense of our patience.

Ideally, Roman should just crush Lesnar in under ten minutes, with Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins (and maybe even Heyman) helping, and then they triple-powerbomb Strowman to close the show.  That would be the best move right now, to rehab Reigns and wash the bad taste of the Lesnar/Reigns saga out of our mouths.  But I am dead certain they will not do this, or even come close.  So I’m picking Lesnar to pin Roman clean, and whoever has MITB doesn’t even bother to come out, for maximum fuck-you points.

Ronda Rousey vs. Alexa Bliss

- Bliss won the Raw women’s title in part by disrupting Rousey’s own title shot, so now Rousey is after revenge and the championship. 

WWE’s in a tough spot because they want to push Rousey as an unstoppable badass and special attraction, which means she has to dominate all her matches and look like she knows what she’s doing from the start.  That limits their ability to show her the ropes in the undercard or on house shows, so they have to get creative about how they present her.  I’ve heard this match has been heavily rehearsed, which is fine, but it may indicate concerns about how quickly they can pull the trigger on a title run.  They were already perfectly happy with Bliss as a tippy-toppy woman, so they could easily stand pat with her for another 3-6 months. But given the all-women’s show coming up in October, I think they’ll want Rousey to come out on top here.

AJ Styles vs. Samoa Joe - Styles is defending the WWE world championship.  If Joe wins, I believe he will be the first man to have held the WWE, TNA/Impact, and ROH world heavyweight titles.

Joe has been playing mindgames, trying to convince Styles that his title run has hurt his commitment to his family, and that his wife and kids are hoping Joe wins.  I don’t buy that AJ believes that, but I do buy that he’s furious that Joe would talk shit about his family.

According to profightdb.com, Joe and AJ have faced off at all since 2013, when they were both in TNA.  It’s pretty amazing WWE is just now getting around to this match-up, because I don’t even think they were trying to save it for a special occasion.  These guys have always worked well together, so we should be in for a treat, but on the other hand that was a long time ago, so it’ll be interesting to see what’s changed.  This is the one match that gives me second thoughts about skipping this show.

I think Joe should win, to cap off a long Styles reign and to acknowledge Joe’s underrated performance as a killer heel.  But they’ve managed to build up AJ’s credibility as a tough guy to beat, to the point where I’m actually wondering if he’ll go a full 365 days as champion, or even all the way into next year’s Wrestlemania.  So I’m not super confident Joe can win, but he’s still my pick.

Braun Strowman vs. Kevin Owens - Strowman’s Money in the Bank contract is at stake in this match.  They’ve been booking this feud like Owens is Wile E. Coyote constantly trying to dream up ways to get the drop on his opponent that never work, except the Roadrunner is fucking Braun Strowman so it doesn’t exactly make much sense.  For example, Owens holds a victory over Strowman because it was an escape-the-cage match and Strowman got mad threw him off the top of the cage.  I assume the idea is that Owens has a super-sneaky plan (perhaps involving Jinder Mahal) that will have us kicking ourselves if it works, but I don’t actually believe it will work.  I can see a booking direction in which Owens has the contract, but I have a really hard time seeing him winning this match.  So I’m going with Strowman to win.

Camella vs. Charlotte Flair vs. Becky Lynch - This is a three-way for Carmella’s Smackdown women’s title, so there can be no count-outs or disqualifications, and the first woman to score a fall on either opponent will be the champion.  Carmella won the title by ambushing Charlotte after a brutal beatdown, and then retained in a rematch.  Becky earned her spot in this match by beating Carmella.  Charlotte earned her spot in this match by...coming back, I guess?  I don’t even know anymore.

I think Becky’s fans have gone the longest without a title and they’re starting to get pretty damn nuts about it, so I would appreciate it if WWE tossed Wrestling Tumblr a bone and let us have this, if only so that we can get “Carmella deserves it more” discourse as a change of pace.  But I think the real reason this is a three-way is for the old bit where the heel is facing two babyface friends and seems to be doomed, but the faces fight each other and the heel sneaks out with a win.

Daniel Bryan vs. The Miz - All right.  Back in 2010 WWE signed Bryan and, to fuck with everybody, introduced him as a rookie being mentored by Miz.  This led to good heel heat when Miz acted like he was the true master of the two, which led to a nice pop when Bryan beat him for the US title later that year.  Then for a long time nothing happened.  Then in 2016 Bryan was retired and Miz did a worky-shooty promo on him that everybody raved about even though it didn’t set up a match.  Then nothing happened.  Then in 2018 Bryan came out of retirement, so the people who think Miz is really great decided the #1 dream match for Bryan is to finally continue this allegedly epic rivalry.

People keep acting like this is a legendary feud and I’m not sure what they see in it except that Miz yells really loud about it.  I mean, it’s good that Miz has discovered shouting but I have yet to detect a coherent point in his promos except that he’s delusional for thinking he’s the superior combatant.  (Miz may be the superior entertainer, and more likely to be wrestling in five years, but in kayfabe I don’t know what that has to do with winning this one fight.)

You’d think as a part of Bryan’s big emotional return from a career-threatening concussion, he should just win this match.  But on the other hand, Miz has a reality show they need to put over.  And more to the point, there’s still no clear indication that Bryan has renewed his WWE contract, which is supposed to expire in less than a month.  If I’m WWE, and I think Bryan could be headed to ROH to headline Madison Square Garden, I’m not putting him over at Summerslam.

Dolph Ziggler vs. Seth Rollins - Dolph already defended the intercontinental title against Seth in a 30-minute iron man match, but I guess that was all to set up this...regular match.  OK, then.

The big angle this time is that Rollins has always had to deal with Ziggler having Drew McIntyre in his corner, but this time Rollins has Dean Ambrose on his side, freshly returned from a triceps tear.  Unless Ambrose is just going to turn on Rollins, it’d be crazy to waste the Shield reunion heat for this match on a Ziggler win.  And if you’re going to do some kind of tease of a heel turn among the Shield, I think you should wait until later when Roman Reigns can be involved for maximum effect.  So my preference is for Rollins to win the title and celebrate with Dean.  But I’m not confident we’ll all get what want...

Harper & Rowan vs. any two of Big E & Kofi Kingston & Xavier Woods - The New Day are challenging Harper and Rowan for the Smackdown tag team championship, and they probably won’t reveal which two of the three are going to wrestle until the match starts.  I don’t think WWE knows where they’re going with the Smackdown tag division, so it’s hard to pick a winner here.  Ordinarily you have to assume the two big monsters with giant hammers are the favorites, but the New Day are a hot act and should probably get back on top of the mountain.  It depends on whether they’ve got anyone else in mind to beat the Bludgeon Brothers, but I don’t think they do.......so.....New Day wins the belts.

Shinsuke Nakamura vs. Jeff Hardy - Nakamura won the US title from Jeff last month due to interference from Randy Orton, and then Orton interfered in the rematch too, so this is another rematch.  Orton may or may not be in trouble for reports of him pulling his dick out in meetings a long time ago, so I don’t know if he’ll be running into this match or not.  I’ve also read Hardy is awfully banged up so I don’t think a title win is a great idea for him.  So Nakamura is going to retain, it’s just a question of whether it’s via a ballshot DQ or an Orton run-in.

Finn Balor vs. Baron Corbin - Ugh.  Maybe Balor can remember where he left his body paint so he can turn into the demon and end this feud already.

Bo Dallas & Curtis Axel vs. Scott Dawson & Dash Wilder - This is on the pre-show.  Dallas and Axel (The B-Team) are defending the Raw tag team title against the Dawson and Wilder (The Revival).  Back when the Revival were in NXT it would be ludicrous to think they wouldn’t punch these jobbers in the mouth and dominate the tag scene for months.  But I guess the whole “no flips, just fists” mentality has nothing on midcard comedy antics.  The B-Team has momentum, and although they probably won’t in a year, for now they’re miles ahead of the Revival.  Dallas and Axel retain.

Cedric Alexander vs. Drew Gulak - Gulak is challenging for the crusierweight championship on the pre-show.  I haven’t really paid attention to the cruiserweights for months and it sounds like I haven’t missed anything.  I don’t know, I guess Cedric retains.

Andrade Almas & Zelina Vega vs. Rusev & Lana - This is also scheduled for the pre-show.  It’s a mixed tag team match, so every time one team makes a tag the other team is also required to tag to ensure that men only wrestle men and women only wrestle women.  This started a a series of Vega/Lana matches, until their men got involved.  Rusev’s sidekick Aiden English is also in the mix, although he hasn’t done Rusev and Lana much good so far.  You’d expect Almas and Vega to win to continue their push and advance the plot of whatever’s happening between Rusev and English.  But knowing WWE, nothing is for sure here.

[aion-rsa]

Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 6: Thurwell, Carmichael, Osborne & All Our Questions & Theories

https://ift.tt/3xnNak3

Warning: contains Line of Duty spoilers.

Notebooks at the ready. There’s just one episode remaining in this special extra-long Line of Duty series, and after that whopper of an interview scene, we already have the answers to several of our previous questions. Below are a few still to be pondered, including: how long has Marcus Thurwell been dead? (Ages) Is Patricia ‘Don’t call me the Guvnor’ Carmichael working for the OCG? (Nah) Is CC Osborne The Fourth Man? (Has to be, doesn’t he?) And what are they going to find under the concrete floor in that workshop? After you’ve read our weekly episode review, join the speculation scrum below.

So, Jo didn’t know Tommy was her father?

No, she’d been told that her father was a corrupt police officer who’d raped her mother aged 15. Marcus Thurwell perhaps? That looked like a flinch when his name was mentioned. Either way, the news that ‘Uncle Tommy‘ was actually the man who had impregnated her mother was clearly devastating. Jo grew up in Glasgow as part of the Hunter crime family (who lived in the English city where Line of Duty is set). When her mother Samantha became pregnant as a result of incestuous rape by her younger brother, Samantha was sent back to Glasgow to live under her mother’s maiden name of Davidson, and forced to keep the baby – Jo. 16 years later, Tommy Hunter returned to Glasgow and took an interest in his daughter/niece. He wanted Jo to become another one of his ‘Caddies’, a police officer working for him on the inside. Samantha Davidson killed herself, and since Jo joined the service, she’s been forced into doing the OCG’s criminal bidding from within.

Who killed Marcus Thurwell?

We don’t know, but a good guess would suggest a contract killing on behalf of the OCG and CC Osborne, whom is the likeliest suspect for The Fourth Man. Precisely why Thurwell was killed depends on how long the bodies have been there (see below). If it’s months or even a year, then it’s possible the order was given at the same time as the order to kill Gail Vella. Osborne would have been cleaning house, so to speak, to avoid any connection being made between him and organised crime. If Thurwell was killed more recently, it could have been after AC-12 identified him as the link between the cover ups of the murders of Lawrence Christopher and Oliver Stephens-Lloyd. Let’s suppose that Patrick Fairbank was faking his senility last episode, and as soon as Steve and Chloe left, he contacted Osborne to say that AC-12 were onto Thurwell. Then it would have been adios Marcus. 

How long has Thurwell been dead?

A while. Jo Davidson received the order to “get rid of” Kate on the 24th of November, and the shoot-out with Ryan happened the next day. Then Kate and Jo spent a night in custody, before Jo was charged on the 26th, and Kate went back to work, assuming command of MIT on the 27th or 28th. Those corpses showed much more than four days’ worth of decomposition, indicating that it couldn’t have been Thurwell who gave Jo the order to kill Kate because he’d been long dead. 

But the Unknown User had an IP address in Spain?

It’s easy to disguise an IP address by rerouting it through another country using a virtual private network or VPN. Osborne could have made it look as though his messages were coming from Spain, protecting him further and potentially incriminating his former partner in crime, Thurwell. 

Read more

TV

Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 6 Review: No Comment!

By Louisa Mellor

TV

Line of Duty: Could Jo Davidson End Tommy Hunter’s Legacy For Good?

By Louisa Mellor

Is Patricia Carmichael bent?

Carmichael’s priority is clearly protecting CC Osborne and undermining the work of AC-12, which either makes her bent (assuming, as we do at this stage, that Osborne is The Fourth Man/H) or a careerist kiss-ass with both eyes on her next promotion. My money’s on the latter, though there is a mountain of evidence against her, as follows:

Back in series five, Pat did her damnedest to have Ted charged as corrupt, which played into the OCG’s plan but could equally have just been down to her being a ladder-climbing prick. In series six, she removed surveillance from Kate and Ryan, which also played into the OCG’s hands but could equally be down to her CC-pleasing budget cuts. She also colluded with Osborne to place trackers on AC-12’s personal vehicles, which obviously helps the OCG but could just the same be a result of sour grapes. Carmichael knows that Jo is lying about Ryan’s death to protect Kate, and has told Kate as much, describing herself as not gullible but pragmatic. I’d say that covers it. She’s pragmatic insofar as it helps her career, and totally insufferable, but bent? Not convinced. 

Why did AC-3 put trackers on AC-12 vehicles? 

Because Carmichael would do anything CC Osborne says, and he needs to know where AC-12 are at all times now that they’ve solved the Vella murder and are getting close to the truth about him.

Who were those prison guards at the end?

Alison Merchant and Jenny Leland, bent employees of a private security service at HMP Brentiss, the woman’s prison where Lindsay Denton, Roz Huntley, Farida Jatri and others were sent down. Those two attacked Denton Denton in series two, and Merchant was the one who broke Farida Jatri’s wrist to stop her from talking to AC-12 about being framed by Jo. Like the bent prison officer who facilitated Lee Banks’ murder of Jimmy Lakewell, they’re in the pay of the OCG and obviously represent a threat to Jo’s life. Hopefully those CCTV cameras will keep her safe.

Amanda Yao from Cybercrime is useful isn’t she?

She really is, as her fluent Spanish showed this episode. Amanda’s played by Rosa Escoda, who handily speaks fluent Spanish and Korean.

So, Buckells isn’t bent?

Like Carmichael, he’s either in league with the OCG or there’s another explanation. Pat’s explanation would be career-minded toadyism, Buckells’ would be that he doesn’t have the brainpower to corrupt himself out of a paper bag. Buckells is lazy, unreconstructed, unethical, and a bad copper who’s been promoted beyond his ability. There’s a chance though, that he’s their useful idiot and has been routinely exploited by higher-ups Thurwell and Osborne, because it’s easy to pull the wool over his eyes.

We know that Jo manipulated Buckells to mess up the surveillance authority on the Carl Banks pick-up, and that she got him to delay the raid until the next day. Jo though, didn’t cop to orchestrating the fake witness statement from Buckells’ ex-girlfriend Deborah Devoreux, or putting Ryan Pilkington on MIT. Buckells might have done the former because he wanted the evidence to lock Terry up regardless of whether or not he was guilty, which shows you exactly what kind of police officer he is. Either way, a disgrace to the uniform.

Is Jo bent?

She’s worked on behalf of the OCG throughout her police career, so technically yes, she’s a corrupt copper. However, that corruption was all carried out under duress, none of it was done to benefit Jo directly or at her behest. The more jobs she did for the OCG, the more blackmail material they had over her, so right from the start, she was caught in an inescapable trap. Stop working for them, and have her life destroyed, squeal on them and get killed… she had no choice. 

In fact, Jo seems to have a strong moral centre. In episode six, she copped to all the corruption she did and exonerated Terry Boyle, Farida Jatri and Ian Buckells, as well as taking the rap for Kate shooting Ryan. With her family background, she’s also desperate not to be thought of as bent, explaining her sudden noble turn.

Is CC Osborne The Fourth Man?

If he isn’t, then nobody is. There are no other candidates, and it all adds up. The two-faced bastard.

What are they going to find under the cement at the workshop? 

With any luck, some evidence that would conclusively link CC Obsorne to organised crime. Drugs? Guns? Dead bodies? A load of hooky cash he was saving for his retirement? Whatever it is, it must have been a priority to retrieve, because whoever is giving the OCG goons their orders sent them straight to retrieve it as soon as Ryan leaked MIT’s industrial unit raid plans.

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Line of Duty concludes on Sunday the 2nd of May at 9pm on BBC One.

The post Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 6: Thurwell, Carmichael, Osborne & All Our Questions & Theories appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[adapted-batteries]

The Library Chose You

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: Teen, mostly sfw (Graphic description of bleeding out)

Relationship: Ezekiel and Jenkins

Word count: 5696

Someone is using magic in southeastern Idaho. What was a simple investigation quickly snowballed into a dire situation only Ezekiel and Jenkins can fix...from the inside.

Also posted on my Ao3.

---

“What’s so magical about Idaho? Hikers disappear all the time,” Ezekiel said, reading the newspaper clippings in the clippings book.

“That’s precisely the point, Mr. Jones. No one suspects a thing if it’s just average hikers disappearing at a statistically normal rate,” Jenkins added. “And you should know by now that if the clippings book tells us something, it has to involve magic.”

Ezekiel looked up to the only other person in the room. “Guess we have to go investigate, Red.”

“Shouldn’t we get Jacob?” Cassandra asked.

“While Mr. Stone would like to object to my advice of bedrest, he is not in any position to argue at the moment,” Jenkins said. “Until the serpents finish their work on his leg, Mr. Stone cannot move at all, or go out of range from the rod of Asclepius.” He looked at the Librarians standing on either side of him. “I am only a phone call away, if you need me.”

“We’ll be fine, eh Cassandra? Just a fun afternoon in the woods...where people have gone missing...and magic is involved,” Ezekiel said in a not very confident tone.

“Flynn just had to keep that appointment today, and drag Eve with him,” Cassandra mumbled, already gathering items they would need for their investigation.

“Appointments left by previous Librarians are no light matter,” Jenkins corrected. He gave her a consoling smile. “Regardless, they should be back soon, tomorrow at the latest.”

Ezekiel, who had disappeared apparently, walked back into the Annex with a backpack, opening the main compartment for her. “Ready to go?”

Cassandra stuck some magical analysis tools into the bag. “Yup, unless you want snacks.”

“I don’t intend to be out there all day,” Ezekiel said, zipping the backpack closed and slinging it onto his back. “Though if you wanna make those pizza bagel things-”

“Time may be of the essence, Mr. Jones,” Jenkins interrupted, rolling his eyes. He motioned to the backdoor, already open and glowing blue white with magic.

Cassandra patted Ezekiel on the shoulder. “When we get back, some pizza bagels will have your name on them.”

Ezekiel looked considerably happier at that statement. “Off to the Idaho wilderness we go!” he exclaimed, then leapt through the portal.

Ezekiel and Cassandra stumbled out of the door on top of a fire watchtower. Thankfully said tower was empty as it was off season, otherwise a confused park ranger would be chasing them down the stairs. The walkway was quite narrow, and quite high up, Ezekiel noticed; wooden safety railing was all that kept him and Cassandra from tumbling over the edge and falling thirty feet.

“Oookaay, so what exactly are we looking for?” Cassandra asked, bounding down the stairs into the fresh spring forest.

“The clippings were lovingly vague about anything magic,” Ezekiel answered, fishing around in the backpack as he followed her, “which means it could be just about anything. Here, take your scanner, that’s probably our best bet.”

Cassandra took the scanner from him and started typing on the screen. “Keep an eye out for any runes too. If they aren’t charged up, the scanner won’t pick up anything.”

They walked a whole two minutes before Ezekiel spotted something. “Hey Cassandra, got some weird carvings on a tree over here.”

Cassandra, who had been heading in another direction on a trace of magic, stopped and walked over to him. They both looked at the carving in the bark like someone who’s at an art gallery but doesn’t have the faintest clue why the painting’s so important.

Cassandra tapped at her scanner, waving it over the rune. “It’s not charged, no residual magic hanging around either, but something was emitting a faint signal behind us. Take a picture for Jenkins, we can show him when we get back,” she said, reconfiguring her scanner to pick back up on the other magic.

Another fifteen minutes of following what appeared to be several distinct traces of magic and five runes in a large pentagram-esque shape around a clearing later, the two returned to the Annex via the fire watchtower.

“Back so soon?” Jenkins said from behind the bookshelves.

“We found runes,” Ezekiel started, pulling out his phone. “I took pictures of all of them. We didn’t recognize any-” Ezekiel looked at his phone, brows knit in confusion. “What, where are the pictures? I swear I took them!”

“Could you have accidentally deleted them?” Cassandra suggested, trying to be helpful.

“No, Ezekiel Jones doesn’t accidentally delete pictures. It’s like I never even took them, no trace at all, even in the phone’s cache,” Ezekiel explained.

“Did you find anything else out there?” Jenkins asked, nodding at the scanner still in Cassandra’s hand.

“Yes, there was some residual magic, though not around any of the runes, and they were all different slightly,” Cassandra stated.

“Different in what way?” Jenkins prodded, hoping to get more information.

“Uh, well the scanner was picked up five slightly different frequencies. If I hadn’t calibrated the scanner to be so detailed they would all easily blend into the same band,” Cassandra said, confusion finding its way to her face as well.

Jenkins could at least help the two on this one. “Magic carries fingerprints, if you will, of the one who used it. From what you found, we can conclude that the same type of magic was used, by five different people. Were the readings about equal for each in intensity?”

“Yeah, they were all really faint, like decades had passed, but virtually equal in decay. The readings were too low for me to tell what type of magic they used, though,” Cassandra clarified.

“But those runes didn’t look that old at all, some even had sap still oozing out,” Ezekiel added.

“Then that tells us these people are trying to hide the magical evidence. It is possible to clear the air of magical residue, but it isn’t easy to do, thus why you could still pick up the traces. And if the cleansing ritual didn’t properly complete for whatever reason, it would have released the built up energy, which could have interfered with your phone.” Jenkins suddenly walked out of the Annex, leaving the two to look at each other in confusion.

No sooner than he left, Jenkins returned, an ever so slightly shimmering staff in his right hand that clashed with his “well to-do gentlemen” vibe.

“What’s with the wizard staff?” Ezekiel asked.

“This is a staff of protection. Think of it as a magical lightning rod. It will absorb any magic intended to target whoever is holding it and ground it into the earth where it diffuses to the ley lines,” Jenkins said.

“Why do we need a staff of protection?” Cassandra asked warily.

“Considering I am the only one with enough knowledge about magical runes at the moment, I have to see them in person to analyze. And because that cleansing spell is not child’s play, I prefer to have some protection,” Jenkins answered, walking towards the backdoor.

Cassandra and Ezekiel followed him to the door. “I thought you were immortal,” Ezekiel said, an eyebrow raised to hide his concern. Cassandra was not doing much in the way of hiding her concern, her eyes wide in worry.

“Immortality does not mean I am completely unaffected by magic, nor do you two have any other protection either,” Jenkins responded, a hint of graveness in his voice. With that, he stepped through the still-glowing portal. Ezekiel and Cassandra shared a look of concern before walking through after him.

---

The forest looked the same as Cassandra and Ezekiel left it, except for the people in hooded black robes standing in precisely the middle of the pentagram shape that the runes made. The trio hadn’t exactly been quiet on their walk either, considering they didn’t think the people would show up so quickly.

“Outsiders! Stop right where you are. Wizard, drop the staff!” The tallest person said in a deep voice, hands held out in front of himself like he was preparing to catch a football. He would’ve looked silly, but the crackling red magic swirling in his hands did loads to up his intimidation factor.

The trio stopped as asked, deferring leadership to Jenkins who did not immediately put the staff down. “Who do you think you are, using magic like that?” Jenkins countered, putting on his most booming and authoritative voice. Ezekiel noticed the leader flinched slightly at Jenkins’s question.

“How dare you disobey my command, Wizard. I should blast you right where you stand,” the leader growled. The other robed figures had formed around the trio, trapping them.

“And just what are you doing that requires you to poorly erase your trail?” Jenkins tested, scowling.

“Why should I tell you such a thing? Hmmph, I’m done with all these questions you keep asking. You meet your doom today, Wizard!” He spread his hands, and the harmless little ball of magic suddenly expanded to the size of a basketball. With nothing more than a stare, the ball hurled its way towards Jenkins, expanding again to twice its size as it went. Jenkins merely stood there, holding the staff slightly in front of himself.

Though they should’ve all been incinerated on the spot, the fireball instead hit some invisible barrier a foot from the staff, then funneled into the top of the staff and presumably emptied the raw magic into the earth, not that the staff looked any different as it sucked in the fireball.

“This doesn’t need to get messy,” Jenkins rumbled, holding the staff, ready to fight.

The shorter hooded figure on the leader’s left leaned over and whispered something. The leader then straightened, a low laugh rumbling from him. “Yes, that I agree on.” He lowered his hands, clasping them together as he nodded to the rest of his groupies who all did the same. “Tell me, Wizard, why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jenkins said, relaxing slightly from his defensive stance.

“So be it,” the leader said as if mildly inconvenienced. He turned on his heel and started walking off. “Theral, the gas, please.”

The one who responded to the request was apparently behind them. Ezekiel heard the clink of metal hitting the rocks on the ground, and a suspicious looking smoke quickly engulfed them. “Jenkins! Will this affect you?” Ezekiel whispered harshly, though the last sentence came out more like “will thsss afffft y” as the gas did its job.

Ezekiel got his answer when the immortal knight stumbled and fell backwards into him and Cassandra, the last thing he remembered before everything went black.

---

Before Ezekiel opened his eyes, he felt the pressure of rope around his wrists and ankles. Further observation told him it was rock climbing rope, not the standard rough fiber everyone liked to use. Something hard pressed against most of his back, but it wasn’t the backpack. He opened his eyes sluggishly, clearing his head to assess the situation.

Cassandra was slumped on the ground next to him, also against the tree that pushed into his back. Jenkins was not, though he saw the staff and his backpack leaning against a tree about fifteen feet away. “Cass….Cassandra,” Ezekiel whispered, but she didn’t respond, apparently still out cold from the gas.

With a huff, Ezekiel sat himself up, finding the hooded figures, and a tied Jenkins on his knees surrounding some piled stones. He fiddled with his bonds while he watched them, not exactly sure what they were doing. By the time he got his hands and ankles free, a glint of metal from one of the hooded figures caught his eye. A mild amount of dread filled his stomach as his brain suggested possible things that could glint in the sunlight. He undid Cassandra’s bonds as quickly as he could, then scurried over to the unsecured staff and backpack and brought them back to her as she just started stirring.

Giving no explanation to her besides a finger to his lips, Ezekiel disappeared into the tree line, skirting the group. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do to help Jenkins. At the moment it was five to one until he could get Jenkins loose, and at least one of them was armed with something. Maybe he could distract them, knick the knife or knives, get Jenkins cut free. It was all very last minute, and that minute got much smaller when the hooded figure directly behind Jenkins pulled out a blade and stuck it to his throat.

“Jenkins!” Ezekiel yelled, bounding towards the group as fast as he could. He could hear chanting now from someone with a higher pitched voice than the leader.

“Focus,” the leader growled, not apparently doing anything to stop Ezekiel.

It didn’t matter anyway; Ezekiel was too late. The chanter raised their voice, practically screaming the last words, just as he got within combat range of the group. At the last word, the knife slit Jenkins’s throat, earning a gurgled yelp.

“JENKINS!!!” Ezekiel screamed this time, shoving the knife bearer aside with all his might to reach Jenkins. He touched the knight’s shoulder, suddenly noticing the oversized, fancy looking gold key now coated in immortal blood on the makeshift stone altar. Somewhere in the back of his mind Ezekiel remembered this wouldn’t kill Jenkins, but seeing red splurt out of his neck didn’t exactly help.

He blinked, and suddenly the world looked a lot different. Everything looked muted, like something sucked half the color out of the forest, except for the sky which went a vibrant purple. The hooded figures were gone and so was the altar and key, which meant Jenkins was now leaning on nothing and still bleeding out on the forest floor.

It took him a moment to register that the warbling sobbing sound was coming from him. He kneeled down in the horrifyingly warm, faintly red pool, rolling Jenkins on his side after he undid the ropes. Water dripped onto Jenkins’s cheek, but he looked up at the clear purple sky, then realized that crying tends to go along with the sobbing he was doing.

“One...moment,” Jenkins croaked, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Blood dribbled out the corner of his mouth closest to the ground.

“I can’t lose you too!” Ezekiel sobbed, uselessly trying to stop the bleeding with his hands, which did nothing more than coat them. Images flashed in his mind, images of his other colleagues in various states of dying via the rage people in the video game loop. He shook his head hard, squinting his eyes closed.

“Won’t...lose...me,” Jenkins rasped, a weak hand gripping at Ezekiel’s arm. Jenkins’s hand made his eyes snap open.

Suddenly the warm flow stopped; blood quit pouring around Ezekiel’s fingers. Confused, he pulled his hands away, ignoring the dripping on his jeans, to see that what had been a gaping wound looked like a really nasty scar with blood spattered on it.

“See? I am immortal, remember?” Jenkins said in his normal voice, definitely not like he just had his windpipe sliced open.

Ezekiel looked at his hands, then at the pool of blood still there, then at Jenkins who had now sat up. He looked tired, but alive. “Heh, forgot about the whole immortal thing,” Ezekiel breathed, barely restraining himself from wiping his hands on his jeans.

“I am a mess,” Jenkins huffed, looking down his front which was thoroughly dyed a faint reddish brown. He looked back up to Ezekiel, annoyance swapped for concern. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm, oh yeah, totally fine, not freaking out at all, cos’ you’re alive,” Ezekiel panted, not doing a great job of regulating his breathing.

“Ezekiel, it’s alright, I’m fine, you didn’t lose me. Concentrate on breathing with me,” Jenkins instructed, now doing his best therapeutic voice.

After a few deepish breaths, Ezekiel said, “Give me, something to do. A goal.”

Jenkins looked perplexed, but went with it. “We need to get back to the fire watchtower. There will be a cache box we can get supplies from.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Ezekiel stood up, a bit shaky on his feet until he got moving. Without thinking, he wiped his hands on his jeans as best as he could.

As Jenkins suggested, at the bottom of the tower was a cache box with the park’s logo painted on, locked by a simple padlock. “Can you open it?” Jenkins asked, more to boost Ezekiel’s ego than anything.

“Of course, this is child’s play,” Ezekiel scoffed, whipping out his wallet and pulling two pins out. Within a few seconds the padlock clicked and opened. Inside were some basic survival equipment; dried camping food, bottles of water, firestarters, a thermal blanket, a hatchet. “What do we need?”

Jenkins pondered the contents of the box. “What we need to find is the key, since it’s what got us here,” he started, pausing to look up at the tower. “There might be more in the tower itself, or at least we can get a better visual to perhaps find the hooded figures, if they traveled here with us.”

“It’s probably locked, but that’s no problem for me,” Ezekiel said, reaching in and grabbing a water bottle. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some spare clothes for you…”

The lock on the door proved no match for Ezekiel Jones. Unfortunately the place looked pretty cleared out, just bare furniture and radio equipment, until he found a locked trunk under the bed.

“I hope you don’t mind overalls, Jenkins,” Ezekiel snickered as he pulled out a pair of light denim overalls from the trunk. Further digging found a super faded maroon and gold plaid workshirt as well. “Don’t tell Stone you attempted to outdo him on the whole country bumpkin look.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jenkins mumbled, fiddling with his blood-crusted bowtie.

“Here, water to clean your neck,” Ezekiel said, handing him the bottle.

“Thank you. Might I suggest you take advantage of one yourself, for your hands,” Jenkins said, shrugging out of his ruined suit coat. “Was there anything that would fit you in that chest? Your pants look a little worse for wear.”

Ezekiel looked at his jeans, re-registering that he did wipe his hands, and thus from his thighs down was coated in coagulating blood. His canvas shoes didn’t look so great either, but he hadn’t seen any footwear. “Uh, I think there were some sweatpants, they at least have a drawstring,” he said, digging through where he had seen them last. Once he found them he stood up and walked to the door. “I’m gonna wash my hands, before I start making everything sticky.”

“I’ll be down in a moment,” Jenkins replied, mildly grimacing as he messed with his own sticky shirt buttons.

---

Ezekiel had to stifle a laugh when Jenkins descended the stairs.

“I do not want to hear a peep about my unfortunate wardrobe,” Jenkins said, glaring Ezekiel’s laugh away.

“Sure thing,” Ezekiel snickered.

“If you keep laughing I won’t tell you what I saw up there,” Jenkins countered.

Ezekiel went quiet. “What did you see?”

“Some tents about a mile south of here, in a clearing,” Jenkins responded, walking over to the cache box. He took the hatchet out.

“Woah, what are you gonna do, go hack up the camp?” Ezekiel said, instinctively taking a step back from him.

“No, but a little intimidation doesn’t hurt,” Jenkins said, shrugging. “That key is a dangerous artifact, which they’ve apparently been using at the cost of those missing hikers. We have to get it from them.”

“Agreed...but how are we going to do that?” Ezekiel asked, pilfering in the cache box for something he could use.

“It depends on how well they’re guarding it. Presumably they think I’m dead, and probably don’t know that you tagged along either, so we have the element of surprise,” Jenkins thought aloud. “Even without the staff, we should be relatively safe. Along with the color, the magic feels muted as well, enough to make them struggle to call up fireballs.”

“Where are we anyway? Did we teleport?” Ezekiel said. Finally after rooting around under the thermal blanket, he found a multi tool, not dissimilar from a Swiss army knife.

“Since when has a key ever teleported you?” Jenkins countered. Ezekiel looked at him, confused, so Jenkins continued. “Keys open doors, yes? This key just happens to open a door to another dimension parallel to ours. As that key is the only magical object that we know of anchored back to our reality, that is our only way back.”

Ezekiel sighed, leaning against the now closed cache box. “And here I was hoping this was going to be a short mission.”

Jenkins gave him a rare sympathetic look that then shifted to curiosity. “Did you really think I was going to die back there?”

Ezekiel schooled his expression to blankness, but he couldn’t really play off the panic attack. “Sort of. When the fear took over all I saw was you bleeding out in front of me. I couldn’t think straight.” He laughed, trying to make light of the seriousness. “It’s stupid, I just lapsed, that’s all.”

Now Jenkins looked concerned. “Ezekiel, it is not stupid. You had a panic attack, that is no laughing matter. I thought…hoped you had finally grown out of being so dismissive and uncaring months ago.”

“I do care!” Ezekiel snapped, startling them both.

Jenkins stood silently for a few moments, pondering his next question. “Why did you say ‘I can’t lose you too’?”

Ezekiel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Besides Flynn, I’ve seen everyone I care about die, which includes you now too, sort of.”

Jenkins squinted in confusion. “When did you see the rest die? Colonel Baird is the only one we about lost.”

“When we went to the DARPA facility, that whole time loop thing, it took me hundreds of respawns to get them through. Some of them were my own deaths, but most of them were from one of the others dying.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Let me tell you, rage people do not kill you softly.”

“Colonel Baird said you didn’t remember though,” Jenkins said.

“I didn’t, not until we got trapped in Prospero’s little heaven for us. My guess was that memory magic unlocked wherever those memories got hidden when I had to remember that I wasn’t Ezekiel Jones, FBI agent,” Ezekiel concluded.

“The panic attacks have been going on that long, then,” Jenkins said.

“More or less, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Jenkins asked.

“Cos’ that’s not the Ezekiel Jones way, talking about feelings and stuff. Besides, no one took me anymore seriously afterwards,” Ezekiel countered.

“To everyone else, you were acting mostly the same,” Jenkins responded.

“Mostly?”

“I had my suspicions about your change of heart based on your actions these past few months. Sacrificing yourself to get past Apep, hiding the fact you were tracking the weather for Mr. Stone and Miss Cillian, rescuing me from DOSA. I’m sure there’s things I didn’t get to see while you were on missions as well.” Jenkins paused, thinking. “Though I didn’t understand why you were intent on playing overkill vampire hunter.”

“Oh that? I just wanted to have the tactical upper hand, you know, bring anything we could use to get rid of them,” Ezekiel said, looking down at his shoes as he said the last statement.

“For Cassandra’s sake I’m glad you didn’t get to use your tools. From what she told me, you were somewhat intent on putting a stake through Estrella,” Jenkins said, watching his expression.

“I dunno, it felt like I was back in the video game loop, and all the vampires were rage people I had to keep from getting me and my friends. I didn’t snap out of it until you saved me and Stone,” Ezekiel admitted returning his gaze to Jenkins.

Jenkins looked at him with renewed sympathy. “It takes a long time for a soldier to leave that persona behind.”

“How would you know?” Ezekiel asked.

“I was a knight of Camelot, after all,” Jenkins reminded him. “Even then, I still feel myself slip into that life when I have a sword in hand.” He looked away into the forest wistfully for a moment. “Just know that you can talk to all of us, about anything. Hiding something like that is only going to make things worse in the long run.”

“I know, I just...I just didn’t want to be seen as broken, messed up,” Ezekiel confessed. Jenkins opened his mouth to say something but Ezekiel cut him off. “And I know how stupid that sounds now, since no one thought any less of Cassandra, but I thought it was different for me, that I’d be easier for everyone to hate, and then I’d leave.”

“I...we would never kick you out. The Library chose you, and no one argues with the Library and feels good about it,” Jenkins said.

“You sure didn’t seem to like me for a long time,” Ezekiel said, folding his arms across his chest. “Always treated me like I was the kid who didn’t know anything and you were the old man who knew more.”

“To be fair, I do know more than you, that just comes with living for centuries,” Jenkins added with a smile.

Ezekiel smiled back. “Did you know I wanted to impress you? I wanted to prove that I was worth something, even compared to you being a knight. You and Baird were the first people I actually looked up to for ages.”

“Not Flynn?”

“It’s not like Mr. Disappearing Act was there half the time to look up to. It’s different now, I guess,” Ezekiel explained.  He shook his head, then stood up straight, back to his usual self. “Enough mushy stuff. We have a key to steal.”

Jenkins wasn’t quite ready to let the conversation end. “You don’t have to hide, you know. I do care, it’s in the name of my position after all.”

“I know you do.” Ezekiel started heading in the direction of the camp. “A mile this way, yeah?”

“Give or take a few hundred feet. Mr. Stone was the land surveyor, after all,” Jenkins said, following after Ezekiel with an affectionate smile on his face.

---

The camp was a lot bigger than what Jenkins could see from the tower. A bunch of tents were scattered about the clearing in no particular order, well more than five people would need. A few crude log buildings were in the middle of construction as well.

“They could just be crazy cultists. It looks more like a living compound than anything,” Jenkins whispered as the two kneeled in underbrush outside of the camp.

“Why are they setting up here?” Ezekiel asked. “What makes this dimension so great?”

“Well until now, they were most likely the only ones here. Great way to start up a new society unhindered,” Jenkins answered. “As for why they want to do that, your guess is as good as mine. It can’t be centered around magic, unless the key becomes a spigot of sorts.”

Ezekiel watched the people move about, studying their movements. None of them had their hoods up anymore; they looked normal that he could tell. “The tent with torches in front of it, no one has gone inside or come out. None of the others have two torches either.”

“That would probably be their sacred tent, a good location for the key. And thanks to their ignorance of us, no guards to deal with,” Jenkins added. “However we don’t know how to use the artifact to get back. It could be as simple as willing yourself back, or it could need blood and chanting again.”

“For all we know the blood and stuff was for messed up show,” Ezekiel said. “We haven’t had any artifacts require this much...work...to use.”

“No, but there’s a first for everything,” Jenkins said. “If it requires magic to operate, I can do it.”

“So you are a wizard?” Ezekiel teased.

“Oh no. But I have a spell that’s been keeping me alive, and after so many centuries, magic slowly accumulates on it like a not very sticky lint roller. And you don’t spend a long time with the Library without learning a thing or two,” Jenkins explained.

Suddenly Jenkins got a lot more mysterious to Ezekiel Jones, but that curiosity would have to wait. “I can get the key, no problem.” He eased into a movable crouch, but Jenkins caught his arm.

“Wait, don’t let it touch your skin. You’ve been around the Library long enough that you could trigger it,” Jenkins advised.

“Got it.” Without any more acknowledgement, Ezekiel disappeared into the forest.

He skirted around the camp, coming up to the back of the suspected tent. He waited for one of the men to walk past, then slid a hand under the simple canvas, feeling for anything blocking his way in. Something wooden covered most of the back wall, so Ezekiel slipped under to the side of it.

The tent was dark and empty of people. He didn’t have a light thanks to the cultists taking the backpack and his phone when they knocked him out, thus Ezekiel relied on his deft hands to do the finding for him. His attention first went to that wooden thing, a stand of some sort. The stand itself was unimportant, just a wooden box sat on its short side, it was what sat on top that really mattered. On a pile of cloth, maybe a blanket, was the key. Using the blanket as a buffer, he felt the outline to make sure it wasn’t anything else.  

The blanket itself was too much to carry off easily, but thankfully he had layered against the cool spring air. Slipping off his jacket, he grabbed the key, wrapped it up, and tucked it against his side like a football. Then, as quietly as he arrived, Ezekiel exited the tent, listening for crunching footsteps before being absorbed back into the forest. He circled around the camp once more, arriving at the spot he left Jenkins.

“That was too easy,” Ezekiel said, announcing his presence. Jenkins hadn’t realized he returned so soon; he jumped slightly at the sound of Ezekiel’s voice.

“Don’t sneak up on me!” Jenkins whispered harshly. “Come on, let’s go back to the pentagram before they realize they are going to be stuck here for a long time.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Ezekiel quipped, slinking off into the forest.

They were halfway there when shouts broke through the forest behind them. What had been a meer speed walking session turned into a run.

Ezekiel undid his jacket hastily, offering the key to Jenkins. “Alright, do your, magic thing,” Ezekiel panted, watching behind them.

“Hold on to me. You had a hand on my shoulder last time,” Jenkins instructed. The shouts grew louder, but Jenkins had his eyes closed, concentrating hard.

A minute went by, and nothing happened. The shouts grew louder still. “Jenkins, they’re coming,” Ezekiel whispered, not really wanting to disturb him, but nervous nonetheless.

“It’s...taking some...time,” Jenkins said, sounding like he was lifting something heavy.

“They’re getting away!” the leader bellowed. Ezekiel’s eyes centered on him as he entered the small clearing. For effect apparently, he had put his hood back up; at the moment it was something Ezekiel didn’t want to see.

Suddenly everything was much greener and browner. The hooded figure vanished, along with the unearthly purple in the sky. “We’re back!” Ezekiel shouted, startling Jenkins out of his concentration.

“Ezekiel? Jenkins?” Cassandra called from behind them. The two whipped around to the noise to see Cassandra and Stone gawking at them. “What on earth are you wearing?”

“It was necessary,” Jenkins breathed out, glancing down at the key. “We need to get this to the Library.”

“You guys have been gone for two days,” she said, running up to both and hugging them.

“Really? It felt like an hour max,” Ezekiel said, looking at Jenkins for confirmation.

“That’s why they were setting up there. It’s a living time capsule. They can stay there a few weeks and almost three years would’ve passed here,” Jenkins said.

“So...where are they?” Cassandra asked, looking around the clearing.

“Still in that dimension,” Ezekiel answered. “So all that ritual, it was a show?”

“We don’t know, it could be that getting back here requires less,” Jenkins said, shuddering a little.

“Cassandra told me what happened, or what she saw anyway,” Stone started, glancing from Jenkins to Ezekiel.

“It’s not the first time, not that it was a pleasant experience,” Jenkins admitted. The Librarians looked at him wide eyed. “I assume Flynn and Colonel Baird are still occupied with the appointment?”

“Yeah, we got a hold of them yesterday. They were still in Cairo last we know,” Stone answered.

Jenkins nodded. “We don’t have any reason to be out here any longer. I would much rather return to the Annex.”

“The backdoor is still connected to the fire watchtower. We kept it connected in case you came back,” Cassandra said as they walked.

“How very kind of you Miss Cillian,” Jenkins responded.

“And there are some pizza bagels waiting on you, Ezekiel,” she added.

Ezekiel’s face lit up like it was Christmas. “You’re the best, Cassandra!” Having no self restraint, he bounded up the stairs and lept through the portal. The rest of the group looked amongst themselves, a mix of amusement, tiredness, and endearment.

---

Jenkins savored some relaxing chamomile and lavender tea as he watched Ezekiel happily devour his food. He glanced over at Jenkins, giving him a thankful smile which Jenkins returned, before he looked back at Cassandra who had been talking about what they had been doing the past two days to look for them.

Jenkins knew it was a start, something to give Ezekiel the push he needed to at least be open with him, and eventually the rest of the team as well.

---

Post Notes: Well this got longer than I intended, but it was fun to write. Originally I was going to have Jenkins and Ezekiel bicker like they did in season one, but I guess I’m still in my post season 3 writing mode/I want people to communicate their feelings/Ezekiel’s possible PTSD is still on my mind. 

The whole Ezekiel remembering thing is based off @flynnscarnation ‘s theory that Prospero inadvertently gave Ezekiel his memories back when he had to remember who he was in “And the Happily Ever Afters.” As for the theory that remembering has given him PTSD, there’s a whole post where I went off what   @queerseth said and a bit on what @flynnscarnation said too.

Also shout out to @hamelott for your amazing tag for Flynn (disappearing act) that I ended up using to describe Flynn without realizing it.

[deanandsam-sexchester]

So I’m reading Ready Player One and I wanted to organize my thoughts about it a bit so I’m naturally coming here to belch out to y’all, as usual. This is the first time in many years that I read a book because a friend recommended it, because usually I happen to either stumble upon good books (assassin’s fate the finest example), or I read someone I follow going crazy about a book and decide to give it a shot.

My friend didn’t tell me anything about it, her words were simply “try it”, and so I did. I’ve not finished it yet but I have an opinion sort of formed, and I’m not so sure the ending is going to change this opinion. Poorly written review (under the effects of lack of sleep) under the cut.

While the book is certainly engaging (i’ve had three hours of sleep from staying awake to read it), gripping and fast paced, and I’m having a really good time reading it, it’s not going to make the top five (or even ten) of the best books I’ve ever read. 

I get it, it’s a glorification of geek/nerd culture, and the 80s, but at the same time, it’s really.. oh what’s the word? pretentious? ok i’ll come up with it later. 

I feel like the author is trying to rub his epic knowledge of everything eighties on our faces. Like, I get it man, you’re a super geek nerd, you don’t need to show off like that. It gives me a vibe of “you’re not a real fan if you’re not as fan as i am”, like it were written by a White Nerd Guy TM complaining about “fake geeks”. Okay, the protagonist does not explicitly tell us readers that we’re bad, but he does diss others for not knowing as much as he does, and the narrative seems to agree with him. How could Art3mis not be so good at Joust? How could gunters not know so much about Halliday?

Halliday is another thing that irritates me. I mean, I’m not a gamer (and maybe that’s why I’m not enjoying this book as much as if I were) but I know what finding an Easter Egg means to gamers. Even then, the way the guy forced everyone to worship him and everything pop culture he liked, testing gamers to see if they were “real 80′s kids”, seems too much, man. 

There are other things about this book that I find lacking, as well. Art3mis and the romance story feels more like a male geek fantasy than a real character. I mean, the only clue I got as to her personality is her idea of what to do with the money if she wins, and the fact that she named her planet Benatar (i’m guessing after Pat Benatar, although the text hasn’t confirmed that idea yet). That’s literally all. She is a manic pixie girl. “Oh, I like you but not like liiiike you, and I’m going to be so mysterious to who I am but I am also sexy and fantastic, look at me”. Seriously? Also why does Wade literally NOT CARE about his aunt dying? She was mean and abusive to him, alright, but she was a human being who lived with him in the real world. Not even the nice lady Wade claims to have cared about gets more than one or two lines before we’re swooped by the narrative again. I mean, people DIED. And Wade just goes on gaming after a page of “I felt bad for the poor lady, oh well, tough luck, better get back to OASIS”.

Basically the book feels like a white guy’s fantasy. And the characters feel shallow, without depth. 

The most interesting thing about the book so far is OASIS itself. A virtual world where you can be whoever you want to be, and create your own world and go on quests? Sign me the fuck in! I like especially how the virtual simulation isn’t ONLY about gaming, but that it can provide education and jobs as well. You can go on quests and fight and everything, but you could also simply build a small cozy house to read books by the chimney on the weekends. The openness of it is a concept I find fascinating, and a steep contrast to the horrendous limitations of the real world, which is quite relatable indeed. While many fictions set in dystopian futures can get to ridiculousness in how bleak they make everything look, Ready Player One’s dystopian future does not look so radically different from our own world. If pollution and blatant misuse of natural resources continue, we might as well find ourselves living in a world like that. Actually the contrast between the real world and the virtual world and how Wade gets absolutely disconnected from reality and becomes a sort of hermit was a good idea, and if the book had taken itself a little more seriously, it could have explored that theme a bit more. But it’s not what Ready Player One is about.

The book is clearly a hymn to games and the concept of having fun. Maybe that’s why it feels shallow at times, and the tragedies intersped in the narrative are not thoroughly dealt with, because it’s just meant to entertain you and make you have a good time, just as if you were playing an arcade game. 

That’s probably the final reason why it’s not going to be at the top of my list of favorites. I tend to prefer books that deal with humanity in a deeper level. But this was (still is, I haven’t finished it) a good read. A good time. Fun. 

[themysteriousballetanon]

*sees an ask meme and creeps into ur inbox* i think you know what imma say :3c

Curses!

This is gonna be hella long so I’ll stick it under the cut, ‘K?

1: Let’s start with a tricky one; what is the real reason you are confused right now?

oh, that IS a tricky one! I guess something I’, confused about is what to make next? Like, craft wise. 

2: Do you ever get “good morning” texts from anyone?

most mornings, in the group chat...But I usually say ‘Good Morning’ first, because I’m usually the first awake.

3: If your significant other smoked pot, would you care?

Honestly? Yeah, I think I would. Like, not in a bad way, but it’s not something I’m totally comfortable with.

4: Do you find it easy to trust others?

Depends on what I’m trusting them with, I guess...Although I have been told I’m too naive and trusting...

5: What were you doing at 11PM last night?

Watching XXXHolic.

6: You’re drunk and lost walking down the road; who is with you?

I don’t drink? But if I Was drinking probably Katie or Dan.

7: What would you do if you found out you had been cheated on?

Break up with them. That’s it. No second chances. 

8: Are you close with your dad?

Yeah, pretty close.

9: I bet you kissed someone last night, right?

Sorry, I haven’t kissed anyone in years...

10: What are you listening to?

Falling In Love -Us the Duo

11: You can only drink ONE liquid for the rest of your life - what is it?

Water, obviously. 

12: Do you like hickeys?

I guess? I’m not against them?

13: What time do you go to bed?

Around 12am or 1am

14: Is there someone who continuously lets you down?

Not anymore....

15: Can you text as quickly with one hand as you do both?

not at all. I am such a shitty texter. I struggle to text and walk homie.

16: Do you always answer your texts?

Depends on who you are. If I know you’re gonna call me if I send you a text there is a very good chance I will avoid texting back.

17: Do you hate the person you fell the hardest for?

Not at all. I don’t think I could every hate somebody I love, or loved.

18: When was the last time you talked to one of your best friends?

literally right now.

19: Is there someone that makes you happy every time you see them?

Most of my friends make me happy when I see them, because I don’t get to see them very often

20: What was your last thought before you went to bed last night?

I don’t remember. 

21: Is anyone else in the room with you?

Nope

22: Do you believe what goes around comes around?

not really.

23: Were you happier four months ago than you are now?

I...guess so? 

24: Is there someone you wish you could fix things with?

no. I have no interest in every speaking to those people again. Ever.

25: In the past week, have you cried?

Nope.

26: What colour is the shirt you are wearing?

Dark Gray.

27: Do people ever call you by your last name?

No. Although I wouldn’t mind if they did.

28: Is anyone ignoring you right now?

How would I know? They’re ignoring me?

29: Do you have a best friend?

Aye.

30: Would it be hard seeing someone else kiss the last person you kissed?

Not really, she can kiss whoever she likes.

31: Who was your last call/text message from?

I just called @pocketseatincheesecake to help her find her phone.

32: Are you mad at anyone?

Not really. I am in a constant state of ‘fuck you’ to a few select people though.

33: Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

No.

34: How old will the last person you kissed be on his/her next birthday?

19, I think.

35: How many more days until your birthday?

Oh god, so many. 

36: Do you have any summer plans yet?

I’m in summer right now, with exactly 0 plans. 

37: Do you have any good friends of the opposite sex?

Yeah! 

38: Are you keeping anything from your best friend(s) now?

Nope.

39: Do you have a secret that you’ve never told anyone?

Yes. 

40: Have you ever regretted kissing someone?

No

41: Do you think age matters in relationships?

Yes, if the age gap is huge.

42: Are you available?

romantically? No. For a chat when you need it? Always.

43: How many people have you had real, strong feelings for since high school ended?

One.

44: If you had to get a piercing (not ears), what would you get?

maybe a tongue bar? 

45: Do you believe exes can be friends?

Yeah!

46: Do you regret anything?

Oh homie. So much. 

47: Honestly, what’s on your mind right now?

That I am so annoyed at myself for reblogging such a long list....

48: Did you ever lose a best friend?

I’ve lost plenty of them. Moving around a lot as a kid will do that.

49: Was your last kiss a mistake?

I don’t think so.

50: Why aren’t you pursuing the person you like?

Because I already have her?

51: Has the last person you kissed ever seen you cry?

Yeah.

52: Do you still talk with the person you LAST kissed?

Every now and again.

53: What was the last thing you ate?

A kit-kat bar...I should probably eat real food soon...

54: Did you get any compliments today?

Nope.

55: Where are you going on your next vacation?

No idea. I would like to visit Rockhampton though, see all my friends again.

56: Do you own anything from other countries?

Sure. Most of my stuff is made in china after all

57: Are most of your friend guys or girls?

more girls than boys. But pretty close though.

58: Where have you lived most of your life?

Everywhere man. I been lots of places. 

59: When was the last time you took a long drive?

Define a long drive? longer than 5 hours? It was a few years ago.

60: Have you ever played Spin the Bottle?

No.

61: Have you ever TPd someone’s house?

No. Also, thats such an asshole thing to do, why would you do that??

62: Who do you text the most?

Group Chat. (The Nothing Better to do Club)

63: What was the last movie you saw?

‘Why Him?” a few hours ago.

64: What’s preventing your current boyfriend/girlfriend from going back to their ex?

Nothing that I know of. If she thinks that’s where she will be happy I think she should go. 

65: How many boyfriends/girlfriends did you have in 2011?

Zero.

66: Is the last person you kissed younger than you?

Yes.

67: Do you curse around your parents?

Not if I can help it.

68: Are you happy with where you live?

yeah, I’m actually a lot happier where I am now in comparison to where I was.

69: Picture of yourself?

Enjoy the shitty snapchat filter and my busted ass phone.

70: Are you a monogamous person or do you believe in open-ended relationships?

I think that if you’re going to commit to someone that what should happen. 

71: Have you ever been dumped?

No.

72: What do you most like about making out?

I’ve never made out with anyone before.

73: Have you ever casually made out with someone who you weren’t seriously involved with?

Obviously not.

74: When you kiss someone for the first time, is it usually you who initiates it or the other?

The other person. I’m a coward at that sort of stuff.

75: What part of a person’s body do you find most attractive?

It’s different for guys and girls. For guys I like height. For girls I like legs.

76: Who was the last person you talked to last night before you went to bed?

Group Chat

77: Had sex with someone you knew less than an hour?

Never had sex before.

78: Had sex with someone you didn’t know their name?

Refer to the question above. 

79: What makes your heart flutter and brings a big cheesy smile to your face?

Shitty pickup lines. 

80: Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already?

Sure. If I love them I totally would. 

81: Has someone who had a crush on you ever confessed to you?

She has! And now she’s my girlfriend, so I guess it worked.

82: Do you tell a lot of people when you have a crush?

Only my closest friends. 

83: Do you miss your last sweetie?

Sweetie? Like, my last partner? Not at all. We dated a week and then I ended it because he was going way too fast. 

84: Last time you slow danced with someone?

Year 12 Formal.

85: Have you ever ‘dated’ someone you’ve never met?

I’m doing it right now. 

86: How can I win your heart?

Shitty jokes my friend. 

87: What is your astrological sign?

Leo

88: What were you doing last night at 12 AM?

Sleeping, I think.

89: Do you cook?

I’m no chef, but I can cook enough to sustain myself.

90: Have you ever gotten back in touch with an old flame after a time of more than 3 months of no communication?

No.

91: If you’re single right now, do you wish you were in a relationship?

I’m not single. 

92: Do you prefer to date various people or do you pretty much fall into monogamous relationships quickly?

As I have virtually no dating experience I don’t think I can answer this one.

93: What physical traits do you look for in a potential interest?

Nice eyes, Nice leggies and taller than me.

94: Name four things that you wish you had!

money, clothes that suit me, a flat tummy, and motivation to write properly. 

95: Are you a player?

I play videogames? 

96: Have you ever kissed 2 people in one day?

No.

97: Are you a tease?

I don’t think so?

98: Ever meet anyone you met on Tumblr?

Not as of yet

99: Have you ever been deeply in love with someone?

I don’t know. I guess I’ll know it when I feel it, huh?

100: Anybody on Tumblr that you’d go on a date with?

hey, keep this a secret but I’d totally date @space-pidge. She’s so cute. 

101: Hugs or Kisses?

Can I pick head-pats instead? No? Then hugs.

102: Are you too shy to ask someone out?

yes. 100% yes. I am the worlds #1 coward.

103: The first thing you notice about the opposite sex?

If they’re a jerk or not/

104: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you babe?

Um, I guess depends on the context? Like, my friend calls me babe but he uses it like a nickname so I guess it’s kinda cute? maybe??

105: If a sexy person was pursuing you, but you knew he/she was in relationship, would you go for it?

Absolutely not. I refuse to be a part of this sort of thin/

106: Do you flirt a lot?

I dont think so..(?)

107: Your last kiss?

Highschool. So 2015

108: Have you kissed more than 5 people since the start of 2012?

no. 

109: Have you kissed anyone in the past month?

no.

110: If you could kiss anyone who would it be?

@freckled-dragons, heck she’s cute. Like daymn. 

111: Do you know who you’ll kiss next?

Nope. 

112: Does someone like you currently?

I think I’ve made it clear who I like.

113: Do you currently have feelings for anyone?

Bruh.

114: Do you like to be in serious relationships or just flings?

I’ve never really had either so I can’t say.

115: Ever made out with just a friend?

Nope.

116: Are you happier single or in a relationship?

I’m not sure. Like, I know I’m happy to be single, and I haven’t really been in a relationship long enough to know. So I dunno. 

[bharatiyamedia-blog]

Dodgers Troll Bumgarner

http://tinyurl.com/y2tum9cy Max Muncy simply took dwelling gold on the Troll Olympics. Giants supervisor Bruce Bochy warned the arch-rival Dodgers to not poke the bear, that bear being gruff left-hander Madison Bumgarner. Massive as a grizzly and simply as imply, the Giants’ 6’4,” rattle-snake-killing ace is to not be trifled with. However the Dodgers, emboldened by their current string of excellent fortune—they’ve opened up a 10-game lead over the second-place Rockies within the NL West—had been keen to danger all of it on Thursday. And surprisingly, they lived to inform about it. Thursday’s hosts didn’t heed Bochy’s recommendation within the slightest. The Dodgers taunted MadBum at each flip, prodding the Giants workhorse with reminders of his notorious feud with Muncy (who he barked at for pimping a house run of their earlier dalliance), commemorative t-shirts immortalizing the infielder’s epic clap-back (“Go get it out of the ocean” was the enduring quote) and to high it off, a sequence of impressed music decisions. “Beneath The Sea” was an excellent contact by the Dodgers’ organist (that was performed throughout Muncy’s first at-bat) whereas “Cake By the Ocean,” which came visiting the stadium audio system following Bumgarner’s third-inning strikeout, was one other well-placed dig on the workforce’s long-time nemesis. I’m certain there’s a lesson about hubris buried someplace inside L.A.’s well-choreographed roast of Bumgarner (possibly late evening on Comedy Central would have been a greater venue than Chavez Ravine for Thursday’s festivities), a former World Collection MVP nearing the conclusion of his Giants’ tenure (extra on that in a minute). However they will need to have caught the baseball gods snoozing as a result of reasonably than being struck down for his or her sins, the Dodgers lived like kings, dismantling Bumgarner to the tune of 10 hits and 6 runs in simply Three 2/Three innings. The six runs, together with one courtesy of Muncy’s RBI single within the first, had been essentially the most the 29-year-old had ever allowed in his 35 profession appearances in opposition to the Dodgers. The Pacific Ocean didn’t seize any baseballs this time round—they’d have needed to play on the pier at Santa Monica—however that didn’t cease Los Angeles from pounding three homers together with two off Bumgarner in a 9-Eight victory.  Thursday’s implosion did greater than bruise Bumgarner’s ego. It annihilated his ERA, which skyrocketed from 3.87 all the best way to its present resting spot at 4.28. There’s loads of time for that to return down but when the season ended immediately, that will stand because the worst ERA of the southpaw’s illustrious 11-year profession. From tense showdowns with Clayton Kershaw to his long-standing beef with showboat Yasiel Puig, Bumgarner has all the time discovered himself on the middle of the swirling Class 5 storm often called the Dodgers/Giants rivalry. However Thursday could have been the final chapter in that ebook with the three-time All-Star a near-lock to relocate on the July 31 commerce deadline.  For his half, Bumgarner, who debuted with the Giants at age 20 after accelerating by way of the minor leagues, appears uninterested on the prospect of pitching elsewhere, as evidenced by the eight golf equipment discovered on his no-trade listing. That listing is comprised of the Astros, Braves, Brewers, Cardinals, Cubs, Phillies, Purple Sox and Yankees—AKA all of the groups almost definitely to pursue him. However assuming he relents, the contract-year hurler looks as if a protected guess to wind up in pinstripes. Although he’d by no means present us his playing cards, prodigious schemer Brian Cashman has virtually actually been hatching a plan to nab Bumgarner behind closed doorways. If that’s the case, it could go a great distance towards explaining the Yankees’ curious resolution to sit down out the Dallas Keuchel sweepstakes earlier this month. Bumgarner, a battled-tested arm with a wealth of playoff expertise, would appear to be simply the person New York is in search of. James Paxton and Masahiro Tanaka are stable rotation items and even J.A. Happ, a recognized Purple-Sox killer, has had his moments. Luis Severino can deliver the thunder when wholesome, however clearly that hasn’t been the case this 12 months. However none of them maintain a candle to Bumgarner, a four-time All-Star and proprietor of a lifetime 3.10 ERA.  One clunker—in opposition to the workforce with the most effective report in baseball no much less—shouldn’t bitter the Bombers on Bumgarner. However with the North Carolina native lastly displaying indicators of decline after a decade of dominance, it’s truthful to surprise if a few of the current cracks in Bumgarner’s armor are mere hiccups or an indication that his finest years are behind him. A pair of freak accidents (together with one involving a mud bike) could possibly be partially guilty for a few of his extra pedestrian numbers lately. Nevertheless it’s nonetheless troubling that Bumgarner, who has by no means been the toughest thrower, has already surrendered extra homers this season (16) than he did all of final 12 months and is on tempo to set a brand new career-worst in that statistic. Shifting from Oracle Park, a venue that has all the time favored pitchers (for proof, simply ask former Large Hunter Pence, whose inventory has gone by way of the roof since becoming a member of Texas), to the band field often called Yankee Stadium could possibly be a tricky adjustment for the veteran left-hander. If that is the brand new regular for Bumgarner, would that be value buying and selling Clint Frazier, Miguel Andujar and whoever else the Giants would want in a deadline-day blockbuster (tater-swatting Luke Voit could possibly be expendable with the addition of Edwin Encarnacion)? To not point out he may very nicely be a rental (much like my beloved Celtics’ conundrum buying and selling belongings for one 12 months of Anthony Davis).  Story continues In fact, that’s simply me taking part in satan’s advocate. Except raving lunatic Max Scherzer grew to become obtainable, Bumgarner is nearly actually the play for New York and a far superior different to the much-less completed Marcus Stroman and PR nightmare Trevor Bauer. With Giancarlo Stanton again from his harm hiatus and Aaron Judge returning this weekend, the Yankees’ lineup is downright terrifying and greater than able to main New York to postseason glory, even when the Bombers stand pat on the deadline. However the thought of Tanaka beginning a deciding playoff recreation, doesn’t appear splendid for a workforce whose championship window is correct now. The Dodgers devoured Bumgarner’s soul Thursday evening, however bear in mind, Justin Verlander was in the same hunch, biding his time on a workforce headed nowhere when the Astros poached him from Detroit two years in the past. The remainder is historical past. Wouldn’t or not it’s becoming if Bumgarner returned to Dodger Stadium as a Yankee within the World Collection? Possibly that’s wanting too far sooner or later, however Bumgarner versus Muncy for all of the marbles can be value each penny. Editor’s Notice: Keep forward of the competitors from wire to wire with rankings, customizable projections, commerce evaluator, unique columns and extra in our Season Pass. And begin utilizing optimized lineups on Yahoo!, DraftKings and FanDuel with our DFS Toolkit!.   AL Fast Hits: MLB has granted the Rays permission to discover splitting time between Tampa Bay and Montreal. The Jays have performed an annual preseason exhibition at Olympic Stadium in Montreal however no workforce has performed common season baseball there for the reason that Expos (now often called the Washington Nationals) in 2004. The Rays’ attendance numbers are among the many league’s lowest regardless of a successful report and the workforce has made little progress in funding a brand new stadium to exchange the outdated Tropicana Subject. To additional complicate issues, St. Petersburg mayor Rick Kriseman stated he received’t log out on sharing the Rays with Montreal, citing the settlement the workforce signed to remain in St. Petersburg by way of 2027. … Mike Clevinger had been hoping to make his scheduled begin Saturday versus Detroit, however after laboring in Thursday’s bullpen session, it seems he’ll head to the injured listing. The proper-hander who returned from a two-month absence earlier this week, sprained his ankle after slipping on the mound Monday in a loss to Texas. … The Angels formally launched Cody Allen on Thursday. Regardless of submitting a horrifying 6.26 ERA throughout his transient stint with Anaheim, the previous Indians nearer has already obtained free-agent inquiries from as much as 11 groups, in response to Jon Heyman of MLB Community. … Hobbled Royals shortstop Adalberto Mondesi can be out of fee for at the least the following 10 days after hurting his groin earlier this week. The fleet-footed 23-year-old leads the majors in each steals (27) and triples (eight). … Astros supervisor A.J. Hinch confirmed Thursday that Carlos Correa and Aledmys Diaz is not going to return through the first half. Correa has been on the shelf with fractured ribs (an harm he picked up in a weird therapeutic massage mishap) since late Might whereas Diaz remains to be feeling the consequences of a strained hamstring. Alex Bregman has dealt with most of Houston’s shortstop duties in Correa’s stead. … Toronto nearer Ken Giles (elbow) returned to motion Thursday evening on the heels of a 10-day harm absence. The flame-throwing right-hander labored a scoreless inning because the Jays handled Raptors hero Kawhi Leonard (who made a very concerning trip to Home Depot earlier within the day) to a walk-off victory over the Angels in further innings. … Trey Mancini was a spectator Thursday in Seattle. The O’s outfielder took a pitch off his hand within the earlier recreation Wednesday at Oakland, forcing him to go away early. Mancini doesn’t assume the harm is critical and hopes to be again within the fold later this weekend. … The Orioles designated Dan Straily for project on Thursday. The proper-hander needed to have seen the writing on the wall after scuffling to a depressing 9.82 ERA over 14 outings (eight begins) for the Birds whereas yielding a league-high 22 homers in simply 47 2/Three innings. Skipper Brandon Hyde hopes the O’s can stash him as minor-league depth after he inevitably clears waivers. … The Mariners aren’t anticipating Mitch Haniger (groin) again earlier than the All-Star break. The outfielder has resumed weight coaching however hasn’t been cleared for baseball actions but. Haniger has already belted 15 dwelling runs for Seattle however is tied with Luke Voit for sixth within the American League with 81 strikeouts. … From the feel-good division, right here’s Albert Pujols, who returns to St. Louis for the primary time in eight years this weekend, giving a younger Angels fan a gift he’ll never forget. NL Fast Hits: The Mets made waves Thursday by displaying the door to pitching coach Dave Eiland and bullpen coach Chuck Hernandez. Eiland can be changed by 82-year-old Phil Regan, who as soon as confronted Ted Williams in a major-league recreation … Ryan Zimmerman, in the end, will start a rehab project Friday at Double-A Harrisburg. The Nats lifer has been bothered by plantar fasciitis for the higher a part of two months. … Thursday may have gone higher for the Rockies. Although they had been capable of steal a come-from-behind win over the division-rival Diamondbacks, the Rockies misplaced two key contributors in Trevor Story, who is predicted to overlook “a number of weeks” with a sprained thumb (although fortunately he didn’t endure any structural injury), and All-Star third baseman Nolan Arenado, who bowed out of Thursday’s recreation with a bruised toe. Arenado aggravated an harm he suffered final weekend after fouling a ball off his toe in a recreation in opposition to the Padres. He’s day-to-day. … Adbert Alzolay was beautiful in his Cubs debut Thursday at Wrigley Subject, permitting only one hit (a solo dwelling run to Todd Frazier within the ninth inning) whereas registering 5 strikeouts in a four-inning effort in opposition to the Mets. The 24-year-old is taken into account the Cubs’ fourth-best prospect, in response to MLB Pipeline. … An MRI confirmed Pablo Lopez’s prognosis of a strained proper shoulder. The 23-year-old had been pitching nicely earlier than his harm, logging a stingy 1.80 ERA over his earlier 4 begins. … Rich Hill was positioned on the injured listing with a strained flexor tendon. The 39-year-old received’t resume throwing for 3-Four weeks following a PRP injection, however hopes to pitch once more this season.  Source link

[ultrasfcb-blog]

Gareth Bale at Actual Madrid: Does Wales star have a future with Spanish giants?

Gareth Bale at Actual Madrid: Does Wales star have a future with Spanish giants?

Gareth Bale at Actual Madrid: Does Wales star have a future with Spanish giants?

Gareth Bale grew to become Wales’ report scorer on the China Cup in March – however has had a irritating membership season

Actual Madrid v Bayern Munich – Champions League semi-final second leg

Kick-off time:

Tuesday, 1 Could – 19:45 BST

Protection:

Dwell commentary on BBC Radio 5 stay and BBC Sport web site/app

After 5 years, a world report switch payment and three Champions League winners’ medals, Gareth Bale’s Actual Madrid profession could possibly be coming to an finish this summer season.

Now not a daily starter, hampered by accidents and nonetheless within the shadow of Cristiano Ronaldo, Bale’s future on the Santiago Bernabeu has by no means been beneath larger scrutiny, regardless of the official phrase being that participant and membership are nonetheless joyful.

“There are nonetheless extra video games to return and I will be counting on him. It is not true that I do not play him,” boss Zinedine Zidane stated after the 2-1 Champions League semi-final first-leg win over Bayern Munich.

Going into Tuesday’s second leg, and with time working out on this marketing campaign, it’s changing into tougher to see Bale returning to favour, as he’s that includes lower than ever for Los Blancos.

Nevertheless, the 28-year-old Wales star has a profitable contract that runs till 2022, is settled in Spain and says he loves enjoying for Actual, who he grew up dreaming of representing.

The noises coming from the Bale camp are that he want to keep. If he leaves, it’s more likely to be the membership ushering him out of the door.

Is he really having a nasty season?

Whereas kind is subjective and the statistics present Bale is nearly as a lot of a objective risk as he has ever been (a objective in simply over 70% of his league begins this time period), there will be no denying his place within the Madrid hierarchy seems to be slipping.

Bale has been fitter for a bigger proportion of this season than final, his most injury-hit within the Spanish capital, but he has began simply 17 league video games and has featured in solely 5 Champions League matches.

He has performed the total 90 minutes lower than ever and now not appears to even be the primary selection off the bench.

He was an unused substitute in opposition to Bayern within the first leg, whereas within the final 16 in opposition to Paris St-Germain he featured for a complete of 36 minutes. He was additionally hauled off at half-time of their quarter-final second leg in opposition to Juventus.

Bale made solely his eighth 90-minute look of the season on Saturday – and scored the opener against Leganes – however that was in a weakened facet as they ready for the second leg with Bayern.

Gareth Bale’s Actual Madrid profession by 12 months Yr La Liga begins (objectives) La Liga sub appearances Variety of occasions subbed in La Liga Whole minutes performed in La Liga Different appearances(objectives) Different substitute appearances 2013-14 24 (15) 3 7 2,070 9 (7) 4 2014-15 30 (13) 1 7 2,582 9 (1) 4 2015-16 21 (19) 2 9 1,741 8 (0) 0 2016-17 17 (7) 2 7 1,425 7 (2) 1 2017-18 17 (12) 6 9 1,461 6 (3) 5

Why is his reputation waning?

Former Actual Madrid nice Michael Laudrup, at present managing Qatari facet Al-Rayyan SC, believes Bale’s inventory has fallen as a result of harm issues have hampered his kind for a lot of his time in Spain.

Meaning Bale – who joined Actual from Tottenham for £85.3m in 2013 – has struggled to match his first season, which culminated in him scoring in the final of the Champions League.

“I believed that Gareth Bale wanted a sure interval, possibly one season, to adapt to Spanish soccer, the place there may be much less area than within the Premier League,” Laudrup advised BBC Sport Wales.

“I used to be impressed together with his efficiency throughout his first season. He scored 22 objectives which was way more than anybody anticipated in his first season.

“If you ship such a primary season, it’s regular that the expectations will probably be excessive for the approaching one.

“However his second season was not even near his first, which I personally discovered unusual as a result of now Bale knew the Spanish league. However sadly accidents performed their half. The third season was good, however inferior to the primary.”

Denmark legend Laudrup believes the final two seasons have seen Bale grow to be a peripheral determine on the Bernabeu.

“Final season, his affect within the staff grew to become much less and fewer. Once more his accidents have been guilty for that. He couldn’t get match match after which it is vitally troublesome to achieve your greatest stage,” he stated.

“This season has up to now been a mixture of accidents and the truth that Actual Madrid have had a nasty season [domestically].

“And naturally this has additionally affected Bale, who has been criticised by the Spanish media.

Actual Madrid’s success in profitable the Champions League in opposition to Juventus in Cardiff final season noticed Bale acquire his third winner’s medal

“As soon as extra Actual Madrid are doing very properly within the Champions League however right here plainly Zidane prefers different gamers.

“So that’s the reason, if I ought to guess about Bale’s future, I’d say he’ll go away Actual Madrid after this season.”

Is staying in Madrid now unlikely?

The goodwill in the direction of Bale, each at board stage and virtually as crucially inside the media and on the terraces, seems to be waning.

Former Actual Madrid and Wales supervisor John Toshack, who gave Bale his worldwide debut, says he’s now affected by “a worrying stage of negativity”.

“I’m right here [in Spain] and I can see and listen to that there’s a lot of negativity about Gareth and it saddens me just a little bit,” he advised BBC Sport Wales.

“Typically the media, they need to stir issues up by way of him shifting on subsequent 12 months.

“Zidane is politically appropriate in every thing he says, however on the similar time you may see Gareth is just a little bit out of favour with him.”

Toshack feels Bale now appears sad until he’s enjoying for his nation and that the Madrid hierarchy could have already determined his future.

“Gareth’s physique language is just a little bit underwhelming. You may see that he’s clearly very a lot happier when he’s with Wales than when he’s with Actual Madrid,” he stated.

“Gareth is ready that actually does not look fairly proper.

John Toshack gave Gareth Bale his Wales debut in 2006 when he was simply 16

“To supply your greatest on the sector it’s important to be feeling joyful and assured and I get the impression there may be simply one thing holding Gareth again.

“I believe his accidents have annoyed just a few folks at Actual Madrid and there may be completely nothing Gareth can do about that.”

Is a Premier League return on?

If Bale is to go away Spain, a return to the Premier League would on paper appear Bale’s almost certainly and logical vacation spot.

Manchester United are regarded as long-time admirers, whereas Manchester Metropolis’s winter pursuit of Leicester’s Riyad Mahrez – an analogous attacking expertise – imply the Premier League champions may show an choice as properly.

Apparently a boyhood Arsenal fan, Bale may entice admiring glances from the Emirates as Arsenal plan for all times with out Arsene Wenger, whereas Chelsea is also a logical resolution, particularly with Madrid reportedly excited about Eden Hazard.

A return to Tottenham Hotspur would definitely be welcomed by Spurs followers as they transfer to their new stadium, however his wage may show problematic.

BBC pundit Pat Nevin believes a return to the Premier League is the best resolution for Bale.

“I’d like to see him again within the UK and I simply get the sensation that that is the time that will be proper for him,” he stated.

Gareth Bale emerged on the world stage with a superb hat-trick for Tottenham within the Champions League in 2010 on the San Siro. His former membership Spurs and Inter Milan are each regarded as excited about signing Bale

“It appears like shifting again to the UK would swimsuit him.

“He is been unfortunate with harm. Had he been absolutely match with out fairly an extended checklist of accidents throughout his time there, issues may have gone very in a different way for him.

“Perhaps he would really feel much less stress within the UK, be that at Manchester United, Manchester Metropolis, Chelsea or whoever.”

Laudrup additionally feels Bale can be extra welcome within the Premier League than he’s in Spain.

“I believe that he’ll return to the Premier League the place many of the high golf equipment would obtain him with open arms,” the previous Swansea boss defined.

“Manchester Metropolis, Manchester United, Chelsea or a return to Tottenham can be my greatest guess.”

Bale can solely be a part of a ‘big membership’

In line with the bookmakers, a return to England is way from sure with each Bayern Munich and Serie A giants Inter Milan that includes prominently as potential future locations.

One other of Bale’s former Wales managers, Chris Coleman, believes there’s a very small shortlist in the case of his subsequent membership.

“He is performed a great stint there, however the final time I spoke to him, he was very joyful in Madrid, his household is settled there,” Coleman stated.

“The place does he go from there that is greater? There’s nowhere greater, so if he does go away Madrid, the place’s he going to go? It may must be one other big membership.”

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[mentalchallenges]

Leave it to January

“Yes of course”

That was the last thing I heard from him, or rather, read from him.

My eyes are incredibly tired, and I'm half-guessing how they managed to stay open with only barely 4 hours of sleep and an incredibly tiring day yesterday. Tried my hardest to sleep earlier, really. The only problem was that my mind was as fertile as it could be and someone, which is me, sowed a lot of seeds in its vastness.

He kissed me last night inside his room, inside his house, in front of his computer. It was sudden, like all first kisses are meant to be. It has not been a day, but the sensations have started to fade out, possibly since there's venom seeping in my veins.

He called my name, “just for tonight...”

And without further ado, he leaned down and captured my lips in a chaste, closed-lip peck. I could not even remember if my eyes were closed – maybe they were open, because it was sudden. There's this softness that is as foreign as it may be familiar, and a lingering touch that pressed, like he wanted more, and he demanded it in his own way.

The bells were ringing – loud, alarm bells were full-on blast inside my head, and my hands were swift to my rescue as it found themselves pushing him away. Maybe it was imagination, maybe it was my panic and anxiety fanning the fire, but I'm pretty sure he wanted more. He pressed on, and followed my lips almost as if I already distanced myself.

Stutters ensued. With casualty and a gentleness thinking as if he was already in the mood, he managed to ask, “Didn't you like it?”

It was clear to me that I did not say yes. But it was hard to communicate with him when all I can do is stutter the word, “Wait!” for a whole minute.

A few minutes later of clumsily walking under the rain, we found ourselves back again at the train station, trying to reconcile and make sense of how we are now. It was not clear to me. I have been always intuitive – new, overwhelming sensations were things I needed a lot of alone time to process – so everything was on autopilot while the processor – you know, did its thing.

He kept saying sorry, and kept hugging me platonically – the way bros would do if they were overcome with pity and feel sorry for someone, which is hug them on one side, pat their shoulders or backs with one free arm, and promptly let go. I kept reassuring him it was okay because I was surprised, that's all. There's this one fact I could not let go with him being okay with it. He was impulsive. Too impulsive.

He was left in the station, of course, after I left a kiss on his cheek and he answered “Thank you.” I didn't get to ride the train next due and had to wait in the cold for around ten minutes. His almosy teary-eyed face and what are we now thoughts varied forms inside my thinking chamber.

There's one more thing – I confessed. I'm prettty sure he confessed too – I heard him say “I really like you,” and that prompted me to come clean because seriously, he was playing like he lost his own game, and I was a willing participant. It was embarrassing – I even told him how I felt the first time we met.

Yep, smooth as fuck.

Back at my apartment, before the clock struck 12, I was berating myself and lamenting on the why's. I could not do it on my own, I didn't have enough personal data or experiences to give me background on this. My calls with my best friends lasted for more than an hour. They gave their opinions – from both spectra. I tried to assured them I have calmed down – I did, to be honest. But not enough.

This was a very dangerous game I have played. I wanted us to be friends in all the innocence and impossibility of the word, but we met online, in a place where hookups in all its forms are commonplace. I knew we were casual friends – I can share with him things that I think would be interesting, and he would answer. It was my fault, however, that I let all these things get to my head, to my amygdala, to the place inside me that was unreachable by words, to the being inside me that interpreted those small pixels in my phone and our late-night talks as something else other than friendship. In my hand, I was clinging tightly to the double-sided blade of our meager interactions.

You can't blame me. In this game I thought I had beginner's luck. When we first talked, he never asked about my relationships and asked about me as a person. He cracked jokes and ruined iced tea for me, he kept saying that we had so much in common, and he was not afraid to show how he didn't really care what other people say. With all that I was glad – I have found a friend. He was a friend to me, first of all. If I saw him first as a romantic interest, I would never, ever initiate communication. But I felt calm with him – and that made all the difference.

He played the game well – he was the veteran. Those virtual words he sent me did not stab me like infinite needles – seriously, what kind of sensation would that be and whoever came up with that metaphor? - but I felt serene, relief and a sinking sensation at the bottom of my chest. Who are you, really? After he kissed me, he was concerned with how I felt, and yet he was smiling, then when he walked me to the station he kept reassuring me with “We should have met at this place instead,” “But if we did, we would not be able to watch that movie, right?” and the bomb which was, “I really like you.”

I was played well.

Even so, before I go to sleep again tonight, when I finally had my blinds on and I can't see anything else except the darkness, I prayed and prayed. It would always be my personal flaw to see that there is an innate goodness in everyone, including him. I would always see him not through the virtual words he sent, but how he reacted to us when we were talking together. That was him, the real him. And I prayed that somehow I can be the one to help him heal, the one to help him become his real self, unafraid of social consequences or norms he proudly proclaimed to have not a care for at all.

I'm dumb; that is true. I feel really sorry I hurt him with words and with my actions. I am not a veteran. And I'm also sorry that our little, short story of less than twenty-four hours would be immortalized in this heaping mess of words. I've given him the ball – it's up to him now. I don't know when will he toss it back to me (or if ever he will) but I will be waiting. I will be waiting for him to be honest with himself, and finally, with me. I want us to be friends, and I will be willing to give up any hope that there can be something such as as “we” if it means I can be close to him again and help him with his pain of being true to himself.

Until then, leave it to January to heal me. It was the month I turn a year older, and now it has done it so well yet again.