#This leads to the pointing spiderman meme when they’re both out at night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roonil-wazlib-at-221b · 4 years

Text

Inferno: Part 3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

God I love Peter Parker so much. Anyways, he’s a dork even when he’s Spiderman. This is so fluffy I’m gonna get cavities. I have so many great ideas for next chapter! Also, I lied; there’s gonna be at least 5 parts.

You’re thankful for your fans. You really are. A good majority of them are sweet, caring individuals completely appalled at the blatant lies the American government sent out as a reason for your arrest. It’s nice to see people promoting positivity.

Unfortunately, being rich and having fans can sometimes lead people to hate you for no other reasons. You’re not saying there are rich people that don’t deserve to be loathed. Of course not. And maybe you do deserve to be hated. You’ve certainly done enough questionable stuff.

But at this point scrolling through your notifications feels like playing Russian Roulette with every chamber loaded.

cap2n/merica: Hey @Y/N_Stark, just do us all a favor and turn yourself into the authorities before you start melting people again.

bigbossbitch: @Y/N_Stark is another case of gross celebrity misconduct. Yes, her jail time was wrong, but now that she’s been released she’s just another spoiled celeb kid born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She gets away with murder just like her father does because of their wealth and it’s a sign of the American government’s (1/2)

You don’t feel like finding the second part of that tweet.

givemebackmymeat: @Y/N_Stark is an ice bitch

Stacey-Toland: yeah it’s great and all that New York gets Spiderman and @Y/N_Stark , but if they really cared about people they would branch out and help people in cities with a lot more crime. New York doesn’t need the Avengers, Spiderman, AND Inferno!

just-a-dumbass: y’all Inferno is the dumbest superhero name i’ve heard in a long time @Y/N_Stark

With a sigh, you turn your phone off. The public outcry will quiet down after the official statements are released. Everyone needs some time to cool off.

The pesky bandages on your hip crinkle as you sit up. You rip them off without looking. Tony insisted that you wear them last night after Helen Cho fished the bullet out of your hip. There’s no pain this morning, and you don’t even need to check to know there’s no scar.

The temptation is too great. Maybe you’re a masochist. You grab the phone before sitting down on the toilet, determined to find at least one positive comment about you in your feed. You try Instagram instead of Twitter this time. Since your public appearance last night, comments on your last post about a year ago have been flooding in.

spideyismydaddy: hey @The-Official-Spiderman what do you think about @Y/N_Stark? She invading your territory or what?

You click on @The-Official-Spiderman. It’s got to be a spoof or fan account, right? Sure enough, the account isn’t verified. You almost swipe out of it but your eyes catch on some of the photos he’s got uploaded. Either he’s super good at photoshop, or...

Is this really Spiderman’s account?

The photos look exactly like the crime-fighting spider you’d encountered last night. He doesn’t have a recent story that you can watch, but he does have a highlight story that you click on. In the first one, he does a backflip. The second clip is of him racing a train and winning. The third one is a pretty picture of the sunset.

You rest your hand on your cheek. Before you know it, you’ve watched his entire highlight story and wasted fifteen minutes sitting on the toilet.

“Miss Stark, your father wanted me to inform you that breakfast is ready,” FRIDAY says, making you jump a little bit. At first it had been a struggle to stop talking to her. The amount of times you’d say, “FRIDAY, turn off the lights,” or “FRIDAY, what time is it?” is a little bit embarrassing. No doubt how many times she’ll startle you will be embarrassing too.

“Sure,” you grunt, throwing a MIT sweatshirt on and shoving your phone in its pocket. “Coming.”

“Morning, sweetie,” Tony says cheerfully, attempting a smile when he looks at you. “I made your favorite—waffles.”

“Great.” You try a smile yourself. “I haven’t—that’s—thanks, Dad.” You’d been about to comment that you haven’t had waffles for over a year, but that would probably bring down both your spirits.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” You take a big bite of waffle and look as innocently as you can at your father. “Just peachy.”

Tony gestures to his own hip. “No... pain? Bleeding? Scar?”

You shake your head and shrug. “Healed overnight.”

“Good.” Your dad actually fiddles with his fingers as you take another bite. “I, um... I don’t know what you want to do.”

I want to spend time with you is the first thing that crosses your mind but it sounds way too sappy and weak. You settle on a shrug. The familiar fire under your skin wavers and you scowl to bring it back to a simmer.

The next time they try to take you away, you’ll be prepared. Even if you have to take out thousands of agents. But you can’t let go of your anger for even a second.

“I have an idea,” you say after another awkward silence, struck with a great idea that would involve time with your dad but doesn’t involve actually asking for it outright. “I couldn’t keep up with all the new shows and movies that came out. Maybe we could get Disney+ and, I don’t know, watch The Mandalorian? I saw a lot of Baby Yoda memes online and it looks like a cool show.”

“That’s the new Star Wars show that came out, right?” Tony checks. “With the ugly green baby?”

“Hey! He’s not ugly!”

“Well,” he starts. You already know he’s about to suggest a bad idea. “Star Wars is probably Parker’s expertise. Considering both of us won’t know what’s going on, maybe we should call him and have him here? Just to translate the nerd stuff to the non-nerds?”

The hand holding your waffle clenches. You should have known that Tony would try to involve his precious Peter Parker so he wouldn’t have to spend time alone with you.

The waffle starts to smoke and you drop it with disgust. “I’m going to the training room.”

“Come on, Y/N—” Tony starts but you stomp off. Why won’t you understand that he just wants you to make a friend? He’s not trying to replace you with Peter—he’s trying to get you to replace Tony, at least a little bit, with Peter.

Tony eyes the waffle you hadn’t finished. A clear outline of fingers is burnt onto its surface.

You stalk through the compound angrily, halfway expecting a team member to jump out at you. You were the last one to be released, after all. Then again, they’re all under house arrest or on the run. But what about the ones that had sided with Tony? “Where are they?” You’d love to run drills with Nat or talk with Rhodey.

“Tony cleared his schedule for the next week,” FRIDAY informs you. “He wanted this to be a more relaxed homecoming so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed before more enthusiastic well-wishers arrived.”

“He cleared out his schedule for everyone except Peter fuckin’ Parker,” you mutter. Jesus, how important is this kid to Tony? First he never stops talking about him to you, takes him to pick you up from jail, and now he’s banned everyone but him from the compound?

For lack of sparring partners, you decide that lifting weights and running on the treadmill wouldn’t be too bad. Thankfully your muscles didn’t atrophy too much while you were locked up, though you rarely mustered the energy for exercises. You left the heat simmering under your skin at all hours. Judging by how many times you woke up to singed blankets, you started doing it in your sleep too.

No doubt due to the Extremis, you can lift every weight in the weight room—together. It’s too easy, so you move to the treadmill.

Your feet pound on the track. With every step, another thought bombards your mind: Peter Parker smiling, how you spent three months in the cage before they consented to giving you a plant, the cell smaller than your whole bed, you never even saw the sun for months, Tony coming to brag about Peter fucking Parker—

Only when your foot hits the ground do you realize that you’re running hot. “Shit,” you mutter, reaching for the ‘off’ button. Your whole body is glowing bright red and instead of turning off, the keypad melts at your touch just like how your shoes had melted off and how the track is hardly more than a melted pile of goo around your red-hot feet. The poor treadmill gurgles unhappily and its gears stop churning.

“Miss Stark, you are not wearing your fireproof clothes,” FRIDAY points out.

“Yeah, I got that, FRI,” you respond through gritted teeth, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You need to calm down before your clothes burst into flame.

The red hue to your skin fades slightly.

You need to get your excess anger out. And you know exactly how to do that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some guy swings a metal bar into your face. Something definitely cracks but heals within seconds, so quickly you almost don’t register the pain. It doesn’t slow you down, anyway, and you grab the man’s arm before he can whack you again with the bar. You slam his head against the side of a brick building and he slumps to the ground. If he doesn’t wake up in thirty seconds, you’ve either given him brain damage or flat-out killed him. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Before you can turn around, your back burns. Not the comforting burn of your anger, but a stinging burn that takes your breath away.

You turn around slowly. The man’s partner backs away, his hands in the air as a scared expression takes over his face.

You reach behind you. Your hand hits something hard that makes the pain in your back worse. It’s the handle of a knife, you presume. With a wince, you pull it out of your back. The blade is dark with blood that you already feel dripping down your back. The wound will knit together, scab, scar, and fade. A body’s week- or month-long process of healing occurring in seconds.

You’re not thinking when you brandish the weapon, but thankfully a weird thwip sound interrupts you. The man’s raised hands find themselves stuck against a wall by a white, sticky substance.

“Shit!” a vaguely familiar voice hisses after a second thwip. “Oh Jesus! You killed him!”

You turn around. The man you’d knocked against the wall still hasn’t moved, but there’s a dark puddle spreading around his head. Spider-man takes a quick look at him, shakes his head, and looks at you.

“And you got stabbed!” Sounding sort of like a smothering grandmother, he spins you around and lifts up your shirt. “Oh, shit, that’s a lot of blood...”

“The wound’s probably closed by now,” you mutter. The ground sort of leans away from your feet and strong arms wrap around your waist as something swipes at your back.

“I don’t see an opening.” He gingerly takes the knife from your hand places it on the ground. Then you find that the ground is underneath your butt. Spider-man’s mask swims in your vision.

“I killed him?” you ask blearily. Shit. You can’t afford to be murdering people not two days after being released from prison. They’ll send you back. They’ll lock you in that cage! Is Spider-man here with them? You smack his hands away. He’s here to get you, he’s here to take you—

“Whoa, whoa, let’s calm down a little bit,” Spidey says beseechingly. “You don’t have any wounds, but you lost a lot of blood.”

“It’ll replenish soon,” you mutter. After some sugar. Sustenance. That would help. As if he’d heard your thoughts, Spidey waves something in front of you. It takes a hot second for your eyes to focus on it, but when you realize it’s a churro your mouth waters.

“I did not mean for this to go this way,” he mutters. Almost shyly, he thrusts it at you, saying, “Here. I got it for you.”

You’re not one to refuse free food. If he’s poisoned it, chances are the poison won’t affect you much, anyway. You’ll take your chances.

You wolf the churro down in record time. Now that you’re feeling less woozy, knots are starting to form in your stomach. Spider-man, a superhero largely known for helping people out, just witnessed you accidentally murdering someone.

And you just murdered someone. You need to take that knife and burn it in an alley far from here and toss it in the trash.

Heat rises in your cheeks, but it’s not anger-heat that can be used as a weapon or self-defense. Letting Spider-man see you like that is embarrassing.

“Are you feeling better? I can get you another churro, if you’d like, or maybe a burrito, I think I have enough cash for that...” Spider-man reaches into his back pocket, but maybe his tone is too light, maybe he’s not being nice and he’s trying to lull you into a false sense of safety.

Quick as a whip, you take the knife and hold it in Spider-man’s direction. The superhero falls back, his voice cracking as he exclaims, “Hey! Whoa! Please don’t stick me with that! Do you have any idea the potential ramifications of mixing blood? Not that I think you have STDs or something, but still, I could still get alien bacteria in me! The Extremis is still in your system, right? Well, of course it is! I really don’t need that in me because it might make me blow up! Please—”

You blink. He sounds like a kid. Like someone your age. He’s in no way your father’s age. And he’s definitely not a threat. “Relax.” You close your fist around the knife and channel your anger into that extremity. It melts within seconds and drips to the ground. You shake your hand of the last bit of molten metal and allow the flesh to return to regular temperature. “You’re not going to hurt me for killing him?” Your heart still races in his presence, but it’s starting to calm down.

“I saw everything.” Spider-man stands up awkwardly, especially for someone that can do backflips and crawl up walls, and points up to the top of a nearby skyscraper. “They attacked you. It was self-defense. Besides, these two killed a bystander in a shootout recently. I’m not saying they deserved it, because that would be really mean to say, but I’m also not saying that you’re a terrible person. You know?”

“You certainly talk a lot,” you comment. It’s amusing.

“Do you want me to stop talking?” Spider-man rubs his neck. “I know it can be annoying. My friends—”

You shrug. “Why were you watching?”

“Well, last night you got shot, right? And I see you out again fighting crime. So I’m like, ‘Holy crap, is she in pain, she’s probably not all right, maybe she’s getting mugged because she slept on the streets because I didn’t help her when she got shot in the hip and then you slammed that dude against the wall and I saw the other dude stab you and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the point.” You stuff your hands in your pockets. “It was my fault, anyway. If I was wearing my suit the knife wouldn’t have gotten so deep in. It probably wouldn’t have gotten in at all.”

“Why are you just wearing a MIT sweatshirt and sweatpants, by the way?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t be bothered to change.”

“Well, I think you’re going to have to now. There’s a big hole in your sweatshirt and your whole back is bloody.”

“Shit,” you mutter. “But that’ll lead people back to... him.” You shoot a glance at the dead man. “And he’s going to snitch on me.” You shoot a nervous glance at Spider-man. You have no idea how he’ll react to you considering a tied-up would-be mugger.

Spider-man shakes his head. “People will see my webs. They’ll blame me.”

“So we’ll both be blamed,” you say grimly. “Great.”

“Yeah, The Daily Bugle is going to have a field day. But we should get out of here.” Spider-man puts a hand on the small of your back (right where you’d been stabbed) and gently applies just enough pressure to get you moving. Shocked at the gentlemanly gesture, you take a few steps before remembering your bloodstained clothes. “I’ll get you new ones,” Spider-man says grimly when you voice your concern. “But then I won’t be able to get you a burrito.”

The sweet concern is touching. “It’s really okay,” you say. If you had your credit card, or any cash on you, you’d buy the poor boy as many burritos as he wanted. “You gave me your churro. You’ve done more than enough.”

“Well, I wanted to make a good impression!” His voice cracks again.

“Really?” you shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye. “Why?”

“I don’t know a lot of other teenaged superheroes,” he shrugs. “I thought we could be friends.”

See, Dad? You think viciously. I can make friends without your interference. I’ve found a friend loads better than Peter Parker. “Get me a change of clothes and we’ll talk.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A radioactive spider, huh?”

“Yeah. And I know all about the Extremis. Killian.”

“Yeah. He murdered my mother and then tried to blow me up but my body didn’t reject the serum.”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Your mother’s death is like a bruise; tender when you poke at it but livable with. “What about your parents?”

“Oh, they’re both dead.” Spider-man gives you a half-shrug. “I live with my aunt. My uncle used to live with us until he died.”

“Shit, dude.” You lay down on the skyscraper, hesitant, and fold your hands together over your stomach clad in the I <3 NEW YORK sweatshirt Spider-man bought you. Goosebumps rise on your exposed legs, courtesy of the NEW YORK sleep shorts he’d barely had enough money to buy at that sleazy mart. What would you want someone to say to you?

“Like you said. I’ve dealt.” Spider-man lies down next to you, watching the sun set.

“I guess we kinda have to be friends, right?” You say after a brief pause of silence. “We got all the heavy stuff out of the way.”

“Sweet!” His phone buzzes. He pulls it out and types a quick text to someone. You presume his aunt, considering that’s the only family he has. Or one of his friends.

You can hear the smile in his voice and it makes a smile spread across your face too. For the first time you feel the wind whipping and realize you’re not angry. You call the heat back immediately, both to warm yourself and to protect yourself. What if—?

“Can I do a livestream?” Spider-man props himself up on his elbow and holds up his phone, which displays his Instagram page.

“Sure?”

Spider-man rolls up his suit to just under his nose and starts recording a video. You notice he lowers his voice slightly, probably to make himself seem more mature, and roll your eyes. “Hey guys! You’ll never believe who I’m with right now.”

Immediately comments start to roll in and people start sending emojis, mainly hearts.

You wave at the camera before unlocking your phone and following him on Instagram, now that you know it is actually him. A minute ago you’d gotten the notification he’d followed you, so you figured it was only fair.

Spider-man starts to do a run-down of his day, leaving out the man you’d killed. “Then I gave Inferno here a churro and we went shopping because we’re besties.” He nudges you with his arm. “No, but seriously, we had to burn her clothes. I can’t believe that dude threw her in the dumpster. It was disgusting.”

You wrinkle your nose at the camera, actually enjoying playing along. It does make you wonder exactly how much he says on his social media is a cover-up of some sinister stuff. He seems perfectly fine at lying about why you needed new clothes.

“Okay, now I’ll answer some questions...” Spider-man browses the flood of questions. “Okay, well, you guys know I can’t just tell you my name. No, I haven’t seen Iron Man recently. No, I’m not an Avenger. Still. And no, I do not have a girlfriend... Why is everyone asking if Inferno is—no, she’s not!” His voice cracks again and you glance curiously at him, tucking your wild hair behind your ear. The wind is whipping it everywhere.

“What?”

Spider-man just waves a hand at you. “I can’t tell you guys my schedule, either, because the bad guys will take advantage of it. You guys know that. Sheesh. Okay, well, since you guys are being jealous and immature, I’m going to log off now. Bye!”

“Let me guess,” you say sarcastically. “Mostly female fans, huh?”

“It’ll be such a shock when they all find out I’m gay,” Spider-man jokes. At least, you think he’s kidding. After a beat, he clarifies. “I’m not. By the way.”

You shrug and transfer your gaze back to the skyline. The sky is starting to turn orange and pink. “I wouldn’t really care if you were.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Hey, you know what isn’t fair?”

“What?”

“You obviously know who I am. Everyone does.” Not to sound conceited or anything, Y/N, good going... “But the only thing I know about you is that your parents and uncle are dead and you got your powers from a radioactive spider.”

So what, you’re curious about who’s under the mask. Sue you.

“My middle name is Benjamin,” Spidey suggests. “But I’m not going to tell you the rest of it.”

“So I should refer to you as Benjamin?” You don’t take your eyes off the horizon, not wanting to seem or sound pushy.

“Please don’t.” You giggle as he pretends to gag. “You can call me Spidey. I know Spider-man is a long title. As long as I get to call you Y/N instead of Inferno.”

“Sure thing... Benjamin.”

“I should not have told you that,” Spidey sighs. “Um, what else... I, uh, go to high school.”

You nod. “I should still be in high school.”

“You graduated high school when you were fifteen and went to MIT, same as your dad, for two years, same as your dad, and graduated college summa cum laude...”

“Also same as my dad.” You sigh.

“Sorry. I’m just... kind of a fan.”

A weird warm feeling spreads in your stomach, but it’s not Extremis-heat. “That’s okay.”

“And then you were arrested.” Spidey’s tone turns a little bit dark. “You turned eighteen in the Raft.”

“Happy birthday to me,” you sigh.

“It was shitty what happened to you.”

“I’m out now.”

“Still,” he persists. “It sucks I can’t make it better.”

You laugh. “What would you do? We only became friends maybe fifteen minutes ago.”

Spidey sighs. “I know. It just sucks, right? All these powers and we still can barely make a difference in the world.”

You sit up halfway, propped up by your arm. Desperate to make the subject lighter, you say, “Speaking of powers. I know you’re sticky and all. What else?”

“Fast and strong.” Spidey shrugs. “Not much else.”

“Wanna race?”

Inferno Taglist:

@paullrud @eridanuswave @loveissupernatural @moistpotatobear @oh-annaa

Peter Parker x Reader Taglist:

@iconicbabesss

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight

#peter parker #Peter Benjamin Parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #reader insert #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #reader x peter parker #you x peter parker #tony stark #stark!reader

23 notes · View notes

rapperkookz · 5 years

Text

Rush!BTΣ — college!au, borderline crack au w/ @cynoirsure

a story about three friends and their obstacles of relationships, academic probation, and figuring out that international kids aren’t all that bad.

10/35

genre: crack

word count: 1.5k

—————

YOUR POV

Ever since the last WINGS rehearsal, it was an understatement to say a lot had happened. Following what happened last week with you and Jimin, today was the first time you were out and about for a purpose that wasn’t just eating at the dining hall or going to class. You weren’t feeling the best about yourself but once you walked into the dance studio and saw everyone’s face light up at your appearance, you felt at ease.

“y/n!” Hoseok tackled you in a hug, squeezing you tightly. You laughed, hugging him back with a smile. “How are you feeling? This week was kind of a toll on you, yeah?” Hoseok’s voice didn’t seem to have an underlying tone of anything else like it usually did, so you felt easier around him today. You nodded, pulling away a bit.

“Yeah, it’s been a little rough, but I thought I shouldn’t skip rehearsal because I might miss a lot and you guys make me feel better.” Jimin’s face lit up at this comment, a smile that made his eyes disappear.

“We’re gonna start off with an old routine, yeah? You can chill with Kev and Tae for now, I think 2Jin are gonna come a little later, maybe with Joon?” Hoseok pursed his lips, guiding you to where Kevin and Taehyung were sitting. Kevin was on his phone, but nonetheless opened his arms up so he could hug you from behind. Kevin’s arms rested around your shoulders, swaying you along as the trio (3J, they called themselves) started running over some bits that were kind of muddy to themselves. You could barely concentrate on Hoseok and Jimin dancing -- your eyes were focused on how your coconut headed stats partner was in the middle for the first song, his usual bunny smile replaced by a brooding look that could make anyone weak to their knees.

You only snapped out of your trance when you saw a figure open the door and announce she brought some snacks for everyone, but even if your head registered the voice as Jinhee’s, she did not look like Jinhee anymore.

No, instead of the silver it was yesterday when you saw her in the dining hall, her hair was now a bright pink-purple, making almost everyone in the room confused.

“Did you like...give head to a unicorn, what made you dye your hair?” Taehyung asked in awe as you and Kevin gave it a casual lookover and a thumbs up, being used to her random dyeing sprees by now.

“So she’ll give a unicorn head and not me? Boo.” Jimin pouted at Jinhee, who didn’t seem to pay the comment any attention.

“I was just bored of my hair. After my shift last night I just bleached and dyed my hair because I mean, not like I was gonna sleep or anything.” She shrugged, leaving the snack bag and her backpack next to you and Kevin before toeing off her shoes and shrugging off her coat. “I think Seokjin’s coming soon, Joon can’t because he has a meeting with the dean or something.” She plopped herself down, opening the swirl ice cream and casually eating it. You opted for the hot chips in the bag, sharing with Kevin as the three standing started to get into formation. You didn’t even realize Taehyung had gone to do their music until he was running back, the intro of Don’t Wanna Fall In Love by Kyle started playing on the speaker.

You found it really surprising how well the three of them worked together despite their differences in dance style. You noticed that even if Jimin’s dance style lagged a little, it was more sensual and very contrasting to how sharp Jungkook’s movement was.

Speaking of Jungkook, it was hard to make other observations of the others dancing when all you could do was focus on Jungkook. Something about the way he looked really got you in a trance, the way he looked up from his bangs threatening to spill over his eyes, but also the duality when he wasn’t dancing anymore and he gave you the cute little bunny smile that you were used to.

“Jimin! Your dancing was so fluid!” Jinhee seemed to have stars in her eyes when she ran up to Jimin, who only smirked back at her, tilting her chin up maintain eye contact with her.

“Who’s this Jimin, hm? You should follow y/n’s lead and call me oppa.” He swiped his thumb across her lips with a wink, making her tense up and shiver.

“W-what are you talking about?? You’re barely 5 days older than me shut up!” Her face was red as she stomped back to the side, you and Kevin laughing your asses off at how quickly Jinhee had deflected the baffled Jimin. While the two of you were laughing incredibly hard, the door opened once more, and everyone’s attention turned to who had just walked in.

“What’s up with both of the music majors and consistently dyeing their hair?” Jimin furrowed his brows, pointing at Yoongi’s newly dyed mint hair. Once Jinhee and Yoongi met eyes, they almost seemed to have a comedic Spiderman meme moment, pointing at each other confusedly.

“It’s called the depression, Jimin, get on board with it.” Yoongi pursed his lips, sitting closer to Taehyung and Kevin rather than you and Jinhee. Seokjin made a face at Yoongi, before looking at the other musician before snorting.

“Oh cute, they’re grapes” Seokjin laughed at his own observation, taking off his shoes before walking across the marley to meet the ones sitting out. Hoseok had called the rest of WINGS onto the dance floor, beginning to work on new choreography with them. You began to get back into the flow of dancing again, the rest of the group falling back into the routine. Hoseok was busy teaching the choreography to everyone, and occasionally while you guys danced, Seokjin and Jinhee hyped you guys along, some AYY GO OFF Y/N! or OKAAAAAAAYYYYY TAEHYUNG HIT IT! coming from the two in the corner. Yoongi looked like he was losing brain cells by being around them, but the smile on his face really said otherwise.

You felt all the stress from the last week dissipate as you danced more, the emotions rolling off of you as well. By the end of rehearsal, you felt way better than how you felt when you walked in. As everyone was getting ready to leave, you gave everyone hugs, thanking them for the hard work.

“Want to walk back to the dorm together, y/n? It’s kinda late and I wanna just run over what we need to know for our stats quiz tomorrow…” Jungkook smiled sheepishly, scratching his head. You nodded, getting your coat on and waving goodbye to everyone else in the dance room.

“Well, I guess we’re up next, yeah?” Hoseok and Seokjin waved to the five left in the room. Seokjin blowing a kiss to Jinhee (who only took it and threw it on the ground, stomping it), and Hoseok just did his signature smile, leaving with his flatmate. Kevin and Taehyung were already talking about their shared Introduction to Neuroscience course, waiting near the door for the other three to be ready so they could do one last check of the room before leaving.

“Let’s drop Jinhee off first, you’re along the way, right?” Taehyung inquired, Jinhee nodding as she tied her laces so that they could leave. Kevin helped her back up from her squat, a small thank you escaping as they all went to put on their coats.

The walk home was relatively quiet for everyone, mainly because they were walking faster than normal through the cold of campus to get to the dorms. Taehyung and Kevin were in a heated discussion about one person in their class who they both just wanted to sock in their class, Jimin and Yoongi were talking about his cat, Killmonger, and Jinhee was trailing behind them, spacing out.

A block away from Jinhee’s dorm (across the street from the other four), Jimin had noticed that Jinhee had been a lot more quiet than usual, making him stop and let her catch up to him and Yoongi. He tilted his head sideways, making her conscious of him looking of her. Her face turned red, she looked away before peeking back at Jimin to see if he ever broke eye contact with her. Jimin chuckled a little, sliding his hand into hers, the two of them forgetting Yoongi being there.

“You okay Jinhee?” Jimin squeezed her hand gently, Jinhee nodding before letting out a yawn.

“I’m just a little tired, is all. I have the night off tonight so hopefully I can sleep tonight.” Jinhee pulled out her ID, since they were stopped in front of her dorm. She squeezed Jimin’s hand back, bidding everyone a goodnight, and additionally, a small apologetic smile to Yoongi, who’s face only flushed at her small gesture. The only person who had caught that besides the two of them was Jimin, and that only made him grin mischievously. Him flirting with Jinhee just got a lot more… interesting, to say in the least.

2-18-19

32 notes · View notes

blueplanettrash · 6 years

Text

Lance Shirogane-West (Part 3)

I hope everyone enjoys this! 💙

“Shiro,” Keith said, turning towards the door. “What’s up?”

I looked him over with concern. He looked a little shaky and definitely pale, well, paler than normal. He shook his head before focusing his attention on Keith.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just need to talk to Lance about something,” he said, before moving his gaze to me. Something in his eyes immediately put me on high alert and I was at his side in an instant. He put his hand on my shoulder and led me out of the room.

“Shiro, what’s wrong?” I asked as soon as we were out of hearing range. He swallowed and opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to get the words out.

He led me to the memorial wall, it was something that Iverson showed us as soon as we got back but ushered us to meeting relatively quickly. It was the first time I really saw the devastation Sendak created on Earth. As my eyes moved across the wall, one face stuck out at me.

“Pa?” I whispered walking slowly over to the wall. Behind me, I could hear Shiro let out a little sob but physically couldn’t make myself turn around. As I brushed my fingers down the plate, my breath caught in my throat. I spun around and threw myself in Shiro’s arms, he wasn’t my father but he was the closest thing I had. He brushed his fingers through my hair and pulled me closer.

“I’m so sorry Lance,” he said regretfully. I knew he meant it and that made it all the harder. I didn’t want him to be sorry, I wanted him and Adam to be together in this universe too. But now, I just didn’t think it was going to happen.

I shook my head and snuggled closer, hoping that some of the horrible truths would go away if I just hid well enough.

“Why don’t we tell everyone else? Maybe they could help us get you home,” Shiro suggested, wiping at his face.

“No, we can’t,” I croaked pulling away. “I know they’re already working on getting me home on the other side; if someone starts on this side the pressure on the rift between could collapse both realities,”

“Oh. Not doing that then,” he said quietly. I gave him a small smile and looked down at the ground.

“I just have to keep believing that they’re looking for me I guess,”

“Of course they’re looking for you, you’re an amazing kid Lance,” Shiro laughed, slapping me on the back.

“Thanks,” I stepped away and looked back at the wall. Tears still pushed against the back of my eyes but this time I wanted to be strong. I had to be strong, for myself and everyone else. I wouldn’t let my feelings hurt the mission and we would rescue Earth.

According to the nurses, it took me three days to wake up after the battle. I wasn’t sure about the rest of the team but I was incredibly rattled and really didn’t know what to think for the whole day afterwards. Then I started seeing the rest of my friend’s families walking down the hall towards their rooms. For some reason, it hurt a lot more than I thought it would. By this point, I thought that I’d gotten used to the fact that my parents weren’t going to show up when I got hurt.

I thought that surely someone would be in to talk to me about the mission or something the first day, but the only people who came in were the nurses assigned to me. I thought that Hunk would wheel himself in and introduce me to his family, or Keith would come in, or maybe even Matt after not seeing us for several years.

But nobody came.

With all that time came a lot of thinking. Thinking about what my future was gonna hold; I wasn’t from their world, I wasn’t where I belonged. I didn’t know anything that was going to happen to me, I’d already been mixed up in a war that wasn’t supposed to be mine. I didn’t know if my parents had made any progress looking for me or if they started trying at all. For all I knew, as soon as I disappeared all time ceased to function and they’re all in the same position all those years ago.

Waiting truly was the worst thing.

After a few days, there was a knock on my door and Shiro stuck his head in. I immediately teared up.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asked as he hurried over to my bedside. I just shook my head and reached out to grab a handful of his lapel.

“I was just lonely,” I whimpered, eyes scrunching closed.

“Oh, I’m sorry it took me so long to come and see you, I’ve been really busy with the Atlas up and running now,” he explained, cupping the back of my head and drawing me close.

“It’s okay,” I replied, looping my arms around his neck and burying my face in his neck. We stayed up almost the whole night, he told me everything that was going on with the Atlas and the strides they were making with it. The way Shiro talked about it made it sound like it could be the Castle’s replacement. Really, it’s what we all needed; somewhere safe.

It was a few weeks before everyone was back to fighting shape. It was almost too much of a coincidence that we were better when we got the frantic call from Veronica. They detected a strange anomaly around the Atlas hanger and were sent down to check it out (meaning Voltron and the MFE team)

We stood there, tense, just waiting for something to happen but it was completely silent. I wanted to shoot just to see if there was something invisible in our way.

I’m glad I didn’t.

Moments after the thought went through my mind, there was a bright flash of light and there were three figures standing before us. The two people had their hands raised submissively while the canine at their hips stood resolutely with her ears pressed against her head.

There’s really no glamorous way to say that I felt like throwing up.

My bayard was on the ground and I was running towards them within seconds.

“DAD! PA!” I screamed, tears already streaming down my cheeks. Their faces morphed into ones of recognition and Dad scooped me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. By that point I was a blubbering mess, clutching their clothes as they hugged me and squishing my face in my dad’s shirt.

I didn’t care that my teammates were staring at me. I hadn’t seen my fathers for years and it just dawned on me how much I missed them. It was like a boulder was lifted off of my shoulders and I was just left with utter relief.

“Is-is that Shiro?” I heard Keith ask, his voice baffled.

“Yeah, or, well, I different version of me?” Shiro stated coming up beside Keith.

“What is happening,” Pidge muttered, lowering her bayard. I pulled away from my parents and turned to face my team.

“These are my parents,” I said simply as Pa wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“Your parents!? B-but those are Shiro and um, some guy I don’t know,” Hunk exclaimed, trailing off as he pointed towards my pa.

“Right, I tell you about that too, I promise,” I replied, looking down at the ground. That’s when I remembered the canine and dropped to my knees.

“Clover!” I cried happily, tangling my hands in her fur. She whined excitedly, her tail wagging madly as she licked my cheek. I felt like crying all over again just having my arms wrapped around my best friend again.

“Do we have time?” I asked looking over my shoulder.

“We have all the time in the world,” Dad assured me with a gentle smile.

I lead them towards the student lounge, not too far away from the Atlas’ hanger and waited until everyone was seated and looking at me before I started.

“Everybody, these are my parents Takashi and Adam Shirogane-West and I’m from a different reality,” I stated simply. My dad snorted at the explanation which my pa quickly smacked him in the head for. He looked over at him with a wobbling lip and I laughed out loud at the display, I’d missed them so much.

“How did you get here?” Pidge asked raising her hand.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. They all looked at me like I was crazy, not that I could blame them.

“How can you not know?” Hunk cried in alarm.

“I woke up in this reality, I was asleep when I was transported. I have no idea what happened,” I said honestly.

“I have a question,” Keith announced gesturing to Clover who was sitting happily at my side. “You have a cosmic wolf too?”

“Yup! Clover is one of Kosmo’s pups!” I explained turning to squish Clover’s face happily. She barked and licked the end of my nose.

“I’m a grandfather,” Keith gasped, staring down at Kosmo.

“Wait, did you use Clover to get here? How?” I asked turning to look at the two of them.

“Well, she can already teleport we just enhanced her ability to teleport,” Pa shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal and gestured at the slim collar around her neck. “Of course everyone’s been working on it; Matt, Pidge, Hunk, they all miss you so much,”

“Wait! There are versions of us in your dimension?” Pidge cried, a smile on her face.

“Yup! There are versions of all of you in our dimension,” Dad stated happily, looking around the room before his smile fell a little bit. “Except for…”

“Where am I?” Pa asked, pointing to himself and glancing around the room as well. Immediately, the energy in the room staled and everyone was looking at the floor, while Dad and Pa looked around in confusion.

“Lance?” Pa asked with concern. I looked up at him and even though he was right in front of me, there were tears welling up in my eyes. He noticed them straight away and gently cupped my face. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re dead,” I admitted in a whisper. “In this reality, you didn’t make it out of the crash,”

Dad gasped and looked over at Shiro. It was almost comical, like that spiderman meme I discovered when I was first transported here. But the thought was almost immediately washed away when Shiro started crying. For him, it must have felt like stitches ripping from a healing wound. When he saw my pa, it would have been just as painful.

I quickly moved across the room and wrapped my arms around his middle. I didn’t know if I was comforting him or I was making the wound hurt more but to me, it felt right.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dad said quietly, walking over to the two of us. Shiro looked up at him, tears still rolling down his cheeks. Now more than ever I realized the differences between the two of them. Maybe it was the time that passed, my dad was certainly older than Shiro or maybe it was the events they went through. I’d never know what the Galra did to my dad, he’d never tell me. I could only hope that Shiro would find the same happiness that my parents did; he deserved it.

Eventually, though, it was time to say goodbye.

“Thank you. All of you for taking care of me,” I said gratefully.

They wrapped me up in a group hug and said their goodbyes. Hunk, Pidge, and Coran were crying outright and I could see tears glistening in everybody else’s eyes. It was hard to pull away but I looked over at my parents and Clover and I just wanted to go home again. I gave everyone a separate hug as well before joining Dad and Pa. As they prepared Clover’s collar for the dimension hop, I looked back at my team.

My team.

Each of them meant so much to me back home, they were my family from the very beginning and they loved me unconditionally. But here, I had to earn their trust and their friendship. I had to start from the very beginning; I got to watch the transition from stranger to friend, to family. It’s something special that will stick with me for the rest of my life. In some ways, I think it makes our relationship more meaningful than at home. Together we went through thick and thin, they had my back when I needed it and I had theirs. We saved lives countless times; sometimes it was our own lives. We broke apart sometimes but formed back together even stronger. I’ll never forget my life from their reality. I found myself there; I discovered what was important, what I was good at. It’s helped me realize loss and sadness; what it’s like to lose someone close to you.

I thank the Legendary Defenders: Voltron for everything they’ve done for me.

The Green Paladin, Pidge, who taught me to never give up when I believed in something.

The Blue Paladin, Allura, who taught me to help everyone I can.

The Yellow Paladin, Hunk, who taught me that it’s okay to be afraid sometimes.

The Red Paladin, Keith, who taught me that what you are doesn’t define you, it’s what you do that’s important.

The Black Paladin, Shiro, who taught me that you don’t always have to be strong.

I’ll keep these lessons and remember them in my darkest times. I hope one day that I’ll see those people again but until then, I’ll remember.

218 notes · View notes

junker-town · 6 years

Text

Which NBA player will score 60 points next? Here’s who you guessed.

Only eight players have scored 60 points since the 2000-01 season. It’s really hard! Here are the players we think have a chance.

Since the 2000-01 season, only eight players have scored 60 points or more in a game, and 13 total instances. Most recently it was Devin Booker, who scored 70 points last year. The rest of the list: Tracy McGrady, Allen Iverson, Kobe Bryant six times, Gilbert Arenas, LeBron James, Carmelo Anthony, and Klay Thompson.

We’ve seen random role players like Terrance Ross, Corey Brewer and Andre Miller pop off for 50-point games. That’s a beloved happenstance, when players we never would have expected break an elite scoring plateau. But players like that don’t score 60. Scoring 60 is hard. You saw the list in the first paragraph: you’re either a Hall of Fame lock or pure scorer prone to heating up in extreme ways. (Miss you, Agent Zero.)

Who will be the next player to score 60? I love hypotheticals like this, because it can so easily blend fan bias and actual expectations as we examine the players who best fit the 60-point mold. We posed the question on our Twitter.

Only 8 players have scored 60+ points since 2000. With that in mind, who will be the next player to drop 60? Go.

— SB Nation NBA (@SBNationNBA) December 8, 2017

Here were your answers.

Kyrie Irving

http://pic.twitter.com/4mxYS8r1sF

— Matt Eldridge (@meazy12) December 8, 2017

kyrie

— james farro (@jamesfarro1) December 8, 2017

Kyrie will do it this year. https://t.co/97T7F1dMRf

— James (@JamesLUFC) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: I believe this is the most likely option of them all. The Boston Celtics are a great team, but they’re great because of their defense. Offensively, Kyrie Irving still runs a one-man show. He has fantastic complementary pieces around him, and Al Horford can create some shots if you need him to, but it’s mostly Irving.

One of these games, Irving will start hot and just keep on shooting. The opponent will stay home on Boston’s shooters, and it’ll give Irving easy driving lanes to the rim. He’ll heat up from behind the arc in the second half, and before you know it, he’ll have 60. Irving has prior games of 55 and 57, so this seems reasonable. — Tim Cato

James Harden

Harden

— Walter Hopkins (@WalterJHopkins) December 8, 2017

James Harden. Also with a triple double. https://t.co/Ejj54XzT6f

— Victor Roque (@vicalmadroq) December 8, 2017

james harden

— local me (@olanderic) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: Harden scored 56 points in one of the most impossibly efficient games I’ve ever seen earlier this year. Harden is naturally efficient — he only took 25 shots that game. If he had taken 30, he would have had 60-plus points. One of these days, he’s bound to shoot a little more often, with the same efficiency, and break the 60-point plateau when it seems like he’s hardly even trying. I have Irving’s chances slightly above his, but Harden’s not far off. — Tim Cato

Kemba Walker

Sleeper pick: Kemba Walker https://t.co/Yh9LkIDhzV

— Mike Prada (@MikePradaSBN) December 8, 2017

Kemba Walker

— courtney kennedy (@KennedyCourtney) December 8, 2017

KEMBA. https://t.co/g7duC37fHM

— At The Hive (@At_The_Hive) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: As Prada notes, this is an excellent sleeper pick. Walker’s career high is 52 points, but his increasingly good three-point shot gives him a chance to heat up, inferno level, one game. It also helps that Charlotte relies on him so heavily, and that the Hornets rarely blow opponents out, so Walker will have plenty of chances. — Tim Cato

Damian Lillard

@Dame_Lillard https://t.co/KrxIj0zKda

— Chad Butler (@butlerchad) December 9, 2017

dame https://t.co/yGhr54iAF3

— Ashwin Harimohan (@ash_win10) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: If Gilbert Arenas can get 60 points, so can Lillard. Someone photoshop their heads onto that Spiderman meme, where the two Spidermans are pointing at each other. (OK, they’re not the exact same player, but you see some similarities, right?) — Tim Cato

DeMarcus Cousins

Boogieeee https://t.co/2mlP1gJnmX

— Josh Gaines (@_JAGaines) December 9, 2017

Boogie

— SactownBabyGiraffe (@TimMaxwell22) December 8, 2017

Boogie tonight on his former team #kings https://t.co/TQTPEvZlIl

— Matt VanNatta (@mattv5) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: It did not happen against his former team, despite Matt’s best guess. Cousins did have 38 points in that game, however. In an increasingly small league, Cousins is the exception. He could find a certain matchup where he bullies his way for a dozen cheap points off put backs, while hitting six threes or so. He’s be two-thirds of the way there already — just get him 20 more points somewhere else.

It might need to happen in a game where Anthony Davis is out, or another team where Cousins is once again the lead scorer. Still, it’s certainly plausible. — Tim Cato

Joel Embiid

Joel Embiid will have a 60 point game this season.

— Justin Gardner (@StatTheProcess) December 8, 2017

Embiid https://t.co/NR7UfYD3IO

— iciiik™ (@His33k) December 8, 2017

Embiid

— jolly em ️iist ⛄️ (@joel_embiist) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: I like this answer, even if Cousins has a slightly better chance of scoring 60 before Embiid does. But the way Embiid would be like his preseason debut this year, when he scored 22 points in 15 minutes. In that game against Brooklyn, Embiid was simply much large than any defender that the Nets had. He went to the line 18 times, and once those fouls start adding up and backups are having to test Embiid, things could get real ugly.

I think the rest of Embiid’s game is still a few years off from putting together this many points in a single outing, but you never know. — Tim Cato

Devin Booker

D Booker https://t.co/IEFJRWA6au

— Nate Phelps (@ThePhelpsy_) December 9, 2017

Devin Booker https://t.co/nSy73R4Nb1

— Bruno Fernando Enthusiast (@ATVS_JakeNazar) December 8, 2017

Maybe Booker or at some point Mitchell from the jazz

— Brian Knutson (@briank24708) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: By now, you’ve probably figured out this list started in order but now is just a free-for-all. Booker would be quite a bit higher if we were actually trying to rank these in order. He has done it once, and he’s on a team that has nothing to lose. One hot half, with 30 points or so, and Phoenix will spend the final 24 minutes trying to get him the record. Why not? — Tim Cato

Klay Thompson

Klay.

— BOBSLED (@ThatRobertPiece) December 9, 2017

Klay

— Catey (@cateyxdubs) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: Thompson is another already-done-it on this list. He scored his first 60-pointer while holding the ball for just 90 seconds, which almost seems like an impossible stat but is very real. Basically, Thompson is always a threat to explode, and nothing special even needs to happen. He just needs a few open shots and it’s all over. — Tim Cato

Kevin Durant

Durant

— AM (@everlastingitch) December 8, 2017

Durant https://t.co/WiSzqSNklK

— Chris Bernucca (@ChrisBernucca) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: Like Curry below, Durant’s career-high is just 54 and his chances are now limited by the Warriors’ excellence. They blow out too many teams, and have too many mouths to feed, to make a singular scoring explosion this large that likely. — Tim Cato

Stephen Curry

Curry https://t.co/Fah4AIKRNr

— S.Zagury (@Sammzag) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: Curry is probably going to go down as the greatest shooter of all time. That fact alone makes a fairly strong case for the Warriors’ superstar point guard. Though he hasn’t had a 50 point game since February of 2016, he’s had so many flurries stopped short because the Warriors are so dominant. It’s going to take a close game against a dominant scoring team like, say, the Rockets to get it done. And I can see it coming this season. — Michael Sykes

Bradley Beal

Oladipo or Bradley Beal

— Ben Sternberg (@BenShachen) December 9, 2017

Bradley Beal https://t.co/5ZZGokST1I

— Grunfeld (@falckovitch93) December 8, 2017

Bradley Beal https://t.co/QwTj1H2Mrf

— Michael Sykes, II (@MikeDSykes) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: Over the last season and change, Bradley Beal has become one of the NBA’s elite scorers. He’s had six 40 point games over that span including his 51 point outburst against the Trail Blazers this season.

When things get tough for the Wizards, they know they can rely on Beal as a scorer. It’ll take a close game and, maybe, a shot attempt total hitting the mid-to-high 30s, but he can get the job done. — Michael Sykes

Donovan Mitchell

— Mimz (@the_1st_mimzee) December 8, 2017

The amazing @spidadmitchell

— Matt Davis (@MattNotHipster) December 8, 2017

My easy guess is James Harden, My out there guess is Donavan Mitchell

— NBA Hoops Online (@NBABoards) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: I don’t know. I know Mitchell scored 41 points the other night, but 60 is a lot more than 41. This seems a bit premature, but I still got as many answers for Mitchell as any other player. — Tim Cato

Victor Oladipo

Oladipo or Bradley Beal

— Ben Sternberg (@BenShachen) December 9, 2017

How it would happen: Victor Oladipo has been unleashed in Indiana. He also just spent a year with Russell Westbrook so he has an idea of how to take over a game himself. He’ll get hot from behind the arc and then the Pacers are such an unselfish team they’ll just feed him all night. — Whitney Medworth

Kristaps Porzingis

Kristaps porzingis

— Mypark Playa (@wweecwwcwtnanba) December 8, 2017

Porzingis

— Igor (@_lgor) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: On this year’s Knicks team, Porzingis could easily take 35 shots in a random game. That’s doable. — Tim Cato

Lance Stephenson!

@StephensonLance https://t.co/dwTlkT4kOP

— Cable (@zach_cable23) December 9, 2017

How it would happen: Whitney

Picture a late regular season game in April. Playoff standings are already set for both teams, so nothing is at stake. Lance Stephenson plays 48 minutes, never passes the ball once, scores 60 points. — Whitney Medworth

Giannis Antetokounmpo

Giannis

— Greg Nog (@gwiss) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: I’m surprised only one person answered it Antetokounmpo. I know his lack of three-point shooting makes it more difficult, but Antetokounmpo is also big enough to go to the line 25 times under the right circumstances.

Kobe Bryant

kobe

— Tim Cato (@tim_cato) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: The most Kobe Bryant thing ever would be to come back for one game, score 60 points, and then retire again. You hadn’t thought of it, but man, now you’re convinced it’s going to happen. I’m certainly convinced it’s going to happen.

The only correct answer

Dirk in his final game. No doubt.

— Phillip McDaniel (@philp_mcd) December 8, 2017

How it would happen: There are many good answers here. This is the only correct one. Thank you, Phillip, and please come to the front to collect your prize.

0 notes

flauntpage · 6 years

Text

Survivor Series Proved No One Cares about 'Raw' vs. 'Smackdown'

Early on in Sunday’s Survivor Series pay-per-view, it was obvious that the show was going to be the apotheosis of WWE’s current belief that there aren’t really babyfaces and heels anymore. The New Day, who had spent the better part of a month acting as heelish ringleaders of the Smackdown “invasions” of Raw, were facing the Shield, who were reuniting in what announcers assured us was one of the mostly hotly anticipated reunions of all time.

Xavier Woods was getting beaten up while desperately trying to reach one of his New Day partners for a tag. He’d claw and scrabble his way to the corner, only to be dragged back by a member of the Shield. It was textbook Ricky Morton: the smaller member of the legendary Rock n Roll Express mastered the art of getting his ass kicked by his opponents, working the crowd into a fever pitch as the ultimate scrawny underdog, before laying off a hot tag to his partner, Robert Gibson, just as the tidal wave of heat crescendoed. It was textbook stuff and Woods was doing it. He got his tag into Kofi Kingston and there was silence.

It was not that anyone in the match had screwed up. It’s that the classic Ricky Morton technique requires clearly defined babyfaces and heels. The six-man tag match didn’t have that. The New Day were acting like heels in the weeks prior, their buoyant personalities being subsumed into WWE’s now annual dalliance into the Raw vs. Smackdown storyline which nobody cares about and never lasts long. The Shield were ostensibly the faces and the beneficiaries of weeks of hype, but there they were acting as the heels in the actual match. Until they didn’t, of course; within a matter of minutes, the roles were reversed once again and Dean Ambrose played Ricky Morton’s role as the New Day double and triple teamed him to prevent a tag.

This was more or less (I’ll get to the less in a moment) the story of the night. Survivor Series had plenty of solid matches. What it didn’t have was any sort of clear storytelling outside the temporary umbrella of Raw vs. Smackdown and the matches suffered for it.

This is the second year of Survivor Series being yoked to that storyline. Last year it seemed novel, and the self-contained nature of it felt akin to those old Marvel vs DC comic books which leaned on dream matchups—Superman vs Spiderman, Wolverine vs Batman—to sell copies, generate interest, and then disappear with no lasting impact. It was cool and the idea that Survivor Series was a little pocket universe where nothing got in or out seemed freeing.

It turns out that was a one-off. This year the story had a narcotic effect on the proceedings. The only way to put it is that the bulk of the show just couldn’t hit the next level worthy of one of WWE’s touted big four pay-per-views. The matches weren’t bad—WWE rarely has stinkers anymore, such is the roster’s ambient level of talent—but the crowd just didn’t seem to know why they should care once the novelty of the dream matchups wore off. Even there, how big a dream is it when Balor and Nakamura interact pretty much weekly and could be on the same show, working a program ad nauseum, next week? Or how about the fact that nobody gives a shit about Raw vs. Smackdown pride at any point until Survivor Series and that even in this little slice where it supposedly matters there’s never any pretense that it’s not all one big company anyway?

The one place where nobody could possibly care about the stale Raw vs. Smackdown stuff was in the Brock Lesnar-A.J. Styles match. Billed as champion vs. champion—and coming as something of an impromptu decision after Styles mercifully ended Jinder Mahal’s torturously bad reign as WWE champion—the match lived up to the brief supernova of hype and then some, quickly becoming WWE’s match of the year.

Lesnar’s an odd duck in that his standard “throw men around” Suplex City matches have worn thin with opponents he doesn’t click with, but he turns it way up with guys he has chemistry with and he has an uncanny knack of knowing who those men are. Word was that Lesnar was excited to work with Styles, just as he was excited to work with Samoa Joe; not coincidentally, those were his two best matches of the year, though the Survivor Series match with Styles was quite a bit better.

Styles bumped like crazy for Lesnar, and Lesnar frankly did likewise. Styles is still one of the best three or four wrestlers in the world and has an amazing ability to get thrown around like a ragdoll while still looking credible when he makes his comebacks. Both men came out looking great and the crowd, which had been up and down all night, was electric for this one, even after Lesnar got his win and pinned the beloved Styles after a closing sequence which saw the former catch the latter on his shoulders in a pretty cool feat of strength.

After that, however, we were right back to not knowing how to react to what we were seeing. The heat carried over to the main event—a five on five Survivor Series match for which I won’t recount the participants but will note, as many did in the lead up, that the youngest participant was 34—but dissipated slowly over the course of the overlong match until the arena sounded like a morgue.

One by one, the newest, most novel wrestlers were eliminated from the match (except for Braun Strowman, who once again looked like a superstar) and, once again, the unique badness of turgidity and temporariness in the Raw-versus-Smackdown storyline dragged things down. We were treated to yet another instance of McMahon family psychodrama, as Triple H saved his brother-in-law Shane McMahon from Kurt Angle’s ankle lock, only to immediately deliver a Pedigree and pin him.

Momentarily, it seemed like there might be something kind of cool there—perhaps Triple H felt badly for his brother-in-law, whose ankle was about to be kayfabe snapped, sparking a realization among the roster that the extended McMahon family always, always sticks together, even when they’re apart, and something should really be done about it.

Instead, we got the internet meme Triple H, the guy who always goes over as a heat vampire sucking the careers out of younger, more talented performers. The Shovel Triple H. This was almost certainly deliberate and it was satisfying to see Triple H the meme destroyed by Strowman after the bell. But that satisfaction wasn’t enough to counter the fact that the biggest pop was when Nakamura and Balor were facing off, that they were chanting for NXT and for New Japan, and that once it was all WWE home growns, including my beloved Braun Strowman, nobody gave much of a shit. The old (mostly) devoured the new, again, and will do it sometime in the near future, again.

But none of it is permanent, because it’s Survivor Series and it’s Raw vs. Smackdown, the story that matters for three weeks out of the year. Except the one story which is permanent: the McMahons. And here we are, waiting for it to end. And it never, ever will.

Survivor Series Proved No One Cares about 'Raw' vs. 'Smackdown' published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

0 notes

amtushinfosolutionspage · 6 years

Text

Survivor Series Proved No One Cares about ‘Raw’ vs. ‘Smackdown’

Survivor Series Proved No One Cares about ‘Raw’ vs. ‘Smackdown’ syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6

0 notes

flauntpage · 6 years

Text

Survivor Series Proved No One Cares about 'Raw' vs. 'Smackdown'

Survivor Series Proved No One Cares about 'Raw' vs. 'Smackdown' published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

0 notes