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noteguk · 3 years

Text

for science | jhs | m

— summary; in which Hoseok hears through the grapevine that you give one of the best blowjobs ever, and he needs to test it to be sure.

— contents and warnings; blowjob (duh), dirty talk, praising and stupid pet names, cum eating, deepthroating (the oc has no gag reflex), Hoseok finds heaven, kind of crack? Idk don’t take this seriously, college!au, hoseok x reader (with a mention of past Jimin x reader), studying sessions being interrupted in the name of science

— words; 5,1k

Requested by anon!

Hoseok could be kind of clueless when it came to some science-related things (and his high school biology teacher could attest to that), but one thing he knew very well was the scientific method. All that hypothesis-testing-stuff, or whatever the hell that was (okay, maybe he didn’t know it that well) had taken him out of some trouble in the past. It helped him see some of his decisions in a more experimental light, avoiding the terrible Olympic-somersault-into-conclusions that had gotten so many of his friends into awkward situations. And it shouldn’t even be said that he took quite a bit of pride in that — it made him feel very intelligent and he would take any stroke to the ego that he could get.

So, when Jimin got a bit too tipsy and started babbling on about how you gave him the best blowjob of his life, Hoseok was, at the very least, cautiously skeptical.

“You’re such a drama queen.” Hoseok rolled his eyes before chugging down a bit more of his beer. He was nowhere near as intoxicated as Jimin was, and he wasn’t planning on changing that. It was a Wednesday night, for fuck’s sake. He had to leave some thrill to the end of the week. “It probably was like… alright. Good, even. But the best one ever? Please.”

“It was so much more than alright, dude.” Jimin threw his head over the couch’s back, looking like he just got washed up on the shore. His hair was a mess of clear strands, exploding on his head like a failed science fair experiment. “It was the best suck of my liiiiife. I wish she didn’t hate me so I could have that again.”

He scoffed. Hoseok had enough filter left in him to avoid telling Jimin that the reason why you hated him was entirely his fault — what did he expect from three weeks of ghosting? Besides, if the head was that good, he would surely stick around for just a bit longer than two months. “Sure. Like the time that you almost died riding a roller coaster.”

“Hey. I almost did.” Jimin’s eyes opened, presenting his friend with a dazed-out, unfocused brand of frustration. He was getting tired of not being taken seriously — didn’t Hosoek know that alcohol makes you more honest? He wasn’t making things up. Not when they were as serious as the well-being of his dick, or actual death. “It was some Final Destination bullshit, I’m telling you. Pieces of metal flying and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off, leaning closer to Jimin so he could take the almost-empty can of beer from his clumsy hands, and placed it on the center table. “I think you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight, man. You have a class at ten tomorrow.”

“I’m serious, dude,” Jimin pressed on. It was past eleven and Hoseok only wanted to sleep, but the other boy was clearly clueless about the lack of mutual interest in that conversation. “Aren’t you two friends or something?”

“Kind of. It’s weird,” Hoseok answered. You two had lingered in a hazy friendship space for a long time now, and he didn’t know exactly how to explain your relationship. He didn’t really consider you two close by any means, but you weren’t strangers or casual friends either. To be honest, he hadn’t thought too much about it until that very moment. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

Jimin sighed, fumbling against the sofa. Much to Hoseok’s delight, he was starting to get sleepy as well. “You could ask her to suck you off,” he mumbled, “then you can feel it for yourself.”

He laughed at that, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Jimin, you’re out of your mind if you think that’s not gonna backfire.”

He blinked heavily. “Hm? Why?”

Hoseok blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “We aren’t that close, and we haven’t done anything remotely sexual before this. It would be super creepy.”

“That’s not true,” Jimin spoke lazily, as if the words were starting to get hard to find. There was a pause so long after his sentence that Hoseok thought his roommate had fallen asleep. “I know you guys made out like at the beginning of the semester. Taehyung told me so.”

He was going to murder Taehyung. “It wasn’t like that. We were both drunk and it was super awkward afterwards.” Hoseok got up from the couch, leaving Jimin to groan and spread out his legs over the cushions. “Listen, I’m glad you two had fun, and I’m sorry you ruined it. But I’m not gonna ask ____ to suck me off just so I can know if you’re being dramatic or not.”

Jimin smirked wickedly — or at least tried to, because his lack of facial control wasn’t doing him any favors. “Whatever you say,” he teased, “but I think you’re curious.”

Truth was: Hoseok was beyond curious. The cogs in his head had started to move, and his brain was evoking lewd images of you so fast that he could barely follow. He would be pretending if he said that he never saw you under that light before, but, after the mess that was your makeout session, he had forced himself to jump into the friendzone before he managed to make things worse.

Hoseok liked you very much, even if you two weren’t particularly close. He enjoyed spending time with you, he found you funny, smart, and way out of his league. But he wasn’t delusional enough to believe that you would actually say yes to sucking him off, especially so out of the blue.

“I’m not curious,” Hoseok lied through his teeth, and he wanted to change the subject so much that his head was starting to hurt. “You’re gonna sleep here?”

“Hm… yes… the couch is very comfortable.” Jimin closed his eyes and adjusted his body on the furniture. His baggy shirt was already halfway through his stomach and his pants had ran up to his waist, but the man didn’t seem to notice. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, moving towards the door. He needed to get Jimin some blankets, because the other was surely not getting up for the rest of the night. It was bad enough to babysit him for those few hours of intoxication, but infinitely worse to make him chicken soup if he got sick. Been there, done that. “I’m sure the couch is great.”

Jimin’s voice was soft and sleepy when he spoke up again. Hoseok was already in the corridor, and he almost didn’t hear him when he said, “I’m not talking about the couch.”

Hoseok went to Jimin’s bedroom and grabbed his pillow and the blanket from his undone bed. Meanwhile, scenarios ran wild inside his head, having you as the main star. He didn’t know what was taking over him, but he wasn’t so quick to ignore Jimin’s story. Hoseok was faced with a fantastic scenario of a perfect blowjob, and the idea that it was so close to him was making his pulse quicken. Again: it would be absurd to ask you to do that, regardless of the motive behind it, and he knew that it would be awful for your already-strange friendship.

No, he could never do that. He would not.

But like… what if it worked, and you magically accepted his request? And what if, by some wonderful moment, some millennial alignment of planets, Jimin wasn’t actually being hyperbolic and you actually had the ability to give incredible blowjobs? Could he really let it pass without giving it a shot?

He could see it as a scientific experiment, Hoseok thought, as a way to prove a hypothesis. It couldn’t hurt if he just—

Oh my god, dude, shut the fuck up and forget about this.

Coming back to his senses, Hoseok strutted out of his roommate's bedroom and walked toward the living room. By the time he came back with the blanket and the pillow, Jimin was already deep asleep.

Against his best efforts, that conversation remained stuck to the back of his mind for the next two weeks. Hoseok would find himself going back and forth on the idea of you having some strange, Marvel-worthy superpower when it came to sucking dick and, worst of all, the idea that his skepticism was making him miss out on it. Jimin was exaggerated when it came to, well, pretty much everything, but that didn’t mean that he would be wrong about that specific subject. That would be a logical fallacy, and that was also something that Hoseok knew very well. Bless his late nights on Reddit for that.

Yet as the days moved along, and his curiosity was slowly turning into desire, he was forced to revisit the infamous night between the two of you, the one that Jimin had so mercilessly mentioned. Thinking back on it, it wasn’t surprising that your overconsumption of alcohol, added to the way that you two had grown close (both physically and mentally) had ended up with Hoseok laying on top of you, kissing the soul out of you and fondling your breasts in the middle of a party. It wasn’t the most dignified moment of either of your lives, but, well, it happened.

One way or another, the night didn’t move forward. Even if Hoseok already had a tent in his pants, you two were far too intoxicated to consent, and were quick to fall asleep before the situation could escalate. Bottom line: Hoseok woke up with your tit in his hand, a nightmarish hangover, and the decision that the You-Subject would have to stay on hold for some time.

And on hold it stayed. For an entire semester. And it would’ve remained that way if Jimin’s stupid mouth hadn’t started talking.

So after two weeks of self-inflicted psychological torture, Hoseok slipped a hangout invitation amidst your texts. If you saw any second intentions behind his “haven’t seen you in awhile, wanna hangout? ;)” you didn’t let it show. The problem was that you weren’t really in the mood to go out, especially since you had a big exam coming up, so Hoseok ended up convincing you that he would stay quiet if you let him go over to your place.

It was a bit harder not to notice the desperation in his proposal that time, but you ended up agreeing. Your thought process was that the boy would eventually realize that his hangout attempt was ridiculous and that he would leave you to study by yourself, and the two of you would reschedule that odd friendship session to when you weren’t drowning in textbooks.

The problem was that you had been stupid enough to believe that your friend would actually keep his mouth shut.

Hoseok was seated on the edge of your bed for so long that he was sure that his asscheeks were permanently imprinted on your sheets. Because he hated himself, he kept eyeing the digital clock to your right, and he was certain that he had spent the last fifty two minutes and thirty three seconds staring at the back of your head and trying to come up with a casual way to ask for a blowjob.

He had tried a few times already, and each one constituted of him being unable to finish his sentence, instead looking at you like BooBoo The Fool until you turned back around to face your disorganized desk, sighing and trying to concentrate on your work.

All things considered, he couldn’t actually believe he had escalated Jimin’s sailor tale to that point. He was out of his mind, that was a fact, and he had absolutely no clue how you would react once he (if he) found the words to ask you to sacrifice your mouth for science.

God, he was an idiot.

He cleared his throat and got ready to try one more time. “So… I…”

You sighed heavily and turned around on the chair. “Hobi, this is the fifth time you’re starting a sentence and not finishing it,” you said, annoyed. “Can you tell me what the problem is? I have a test in two days and you promised you wouldn’t interrupt me if you came over.”

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t like feeling like a kid being scolded, even if he kind of deserved that. Hoseok guessed it would be better to just take off the band-aid before he made an even bigger fool out of himself. “Let me just, like, explain the context of this. Otherwise it’s going to be even more strange.”

Dropping your pen, you fully swirled the chair around, crossing your hands over your legs. He wasn’t expecting your complete attention anytime soon, and the seriousness in your stare made his courage falter for a second. It was such a stupid idea, you’d just end up hating him like you did Jimin. “As long as you make it quick,” you told him.

Hoseok hesitated, running one hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay, so… like, a few weeks ago I was talking to Jimin,” he started, watching your face for any signal of an expression — confusion, disgust, anything. But he found nothing. “We were drunk, and he started talking about the time that you two were together. Like, sexually.”

You blinked, unfazed. “And?”

“And… he told me that you give, like, the best blowjobs in history,” the words left his mouth before he could fully digest them. This time, he got a reaction out of you — a light raise of your eyebrows. “And, no offense, but I didn’t believe him. You know how extra he is about some stuff. Most stuff.”

There was a moment of silence as you waited for him to go on, but Hoseok was too busy swallowing his thoughts down and feeling like he would collapse at any given moment. You sighed. “So what? You wanted to tell me that you don’t believe in my blowjob abilities? That’s all? Can I go back to studying now?”

“No, that’s…” Now, things were starting to get complicated. Just take off the band-aid, Hoseok, don’t chicken out now. “I wanted to know if you could show me. Like, if you could suck me off. So I could... confirm that hypothesis.”

Every part of his brain was suddently hyperaware of how fucking stupid he just sounded. He had expected that another thick silence would follow, but his heart almost leaped out of your chest when you started laughing at him — like, full-chest, eyes closing, head rolling back laughing. “Are you serious?” You asked, taking one hand to cover your mouth before, at last, bursting out again. He felt like his ego was being stabbed with a rusty nail. “I can’t believe you, Hoseok. Took you all this time just to ask me if I could suck you off? For science?”

His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and he had to clear his throat before he found the force to answer you. “Yeah, I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he struggled to say, each word morphing into the next. His stomach had frozen up and the flight or fight response was starting to kick in. Had he really been that much of an idiot? When did his cock start dictating his words? “I… I know this is like, super creepy. I’m sorry. We can forget this ever happened and I’ll never talk to you again. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Suddenly sad, he waited as you settled back on the chair, wiping a small tear from the corner of your eye before you stared at him. There was still a smirk crawling up your lips, and he felt like the world was collapsing all around him as the silence expanded around the two of you. He looked at the digital clock: it had taken him precisely three minutes to ruin everything.

He sighed, shoulders falling. “Do you hate me? Why are you so quiet?”

You bit down on your lip, your eyes narrowing as you took his form in. Hoseok was hot: point blank. He was also nice, and respectful enough to realize that he might have overstepped a few lines with his request — and, even if you couldn’t really understand it, you also weren’t bothered by it. And you certainly didn’t hate him. In a way, you were almost flattered. You would’ve been more if the comment had come from anyone else but your Danny Phantom ex. But that was a different story.

The entire situation was just too funny to let it go. And, besides, you really wouldn’t mind sucking Hoseok off. It wasn’t as if you had never thought about that before.

“I’m... considering it,” you told him, watching as his face lit up in a mixture of confusion and joy. He looked like a kid seeing Santa for the first time. “If you promise to shut up and let me study, I’ll do it. And if you agree to never talk about it again.”

Hoseok blinked profusely, his mind short circuiting. “For real?”

“Yeah.” You raised from your chair, walking closer to your bed. Hoseok swallowed hard and leaned back, placing his hands on the mattress for support. “But do me a favor: if it’s not that good, don’t tell me. It’ll hurt me.”

“Yeah, alright.” He swallowed dry, every neuron in his brain trying to grasp what the fuck had just happened. His mind was the Spongebob office being set on fire, and he suddenly didn’t know how to deal with the anticipation booming in his chest. “I’m... not hard yet, though.”

“It’s okay.” You kneeled in front of him, placing your hands on his inner thighs and slightly pushing them apart. Hoseok quickly got the cue, and opened a bit more so you could comfortably place yourself between them. “Just... relax,” your voice was almost a whisper then, and he felt his soul trying to leave him. That was insane. “Let me take care of you.”

Your words managed to make him relax a bit, then he tensed all the way back at the feeling of your hands fumbling with his button. His breath hitched as you pulled the zipper down, fingers hooking on the edge of his pants before tugging them down his thighs.

He felt exposed as his pants fell like a puddle around his ankles, his tongue coming out to wet his lips as you leaned in. Hosoek felt like he was dreaming when you started nibbling at his skin, kissing and licking his inner thighs as you slowly made your way closer to his aching member.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he barely got out before sighing, the tingles of your caresses on his skin shooting directly towards his cock, already semi-hard.

You flicked your eyes up at him, humming against his thigh muscles. You were now so dangerously close to his underwear that he thought he would lose consciousness. “Were you daydreaming about it or something?” You teased.

Maybe in a different position, he would’ve lied about it. But the truth came out before he could hold it back. “Ever since Jimin told me that, yeah,” he said.

“Hmm… hope I live up to the expectation, then,” you purred, looking up at him with those doll-like eyes. Hoseok suddenly felt like he was losing his balance, his entire body burning in desire and expectancy. You looked like another one of his horny daydreams, but you were kneeling right there, in arms reach, and he didn’t know how he would deal with what was about to ensue.

Your mouth was hovering above his clothed cock before he could notice and, delicately, you leaned down to place a kiss on it. The touch was tender, almost numb with the fabric standing between you two, and yet Hoseok shivered, biting down on his lip as one of your hands enveloped his erection. He watched, mesmerized, as you started lazily stroking him through his underwear, leaning your head to the side so you could place heavy kisses on him, at times giving his tip a few kitten licks until it was covered by a thin layer of your saliva.

The sensation left him on edge, silently begging for more. By the time you moved back so you could undress him, Hoseok was a mess of shallow breaths and heavy swallows; his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as pleasure started to build up at the corners of his perception. Biting back a moan of relief, Hoseok raised his hips as you slowly pulled his underwear downward, allowing for his cock to spring free from its confinement. You had done a good job teasing him, because it was already fully hard when it bounced against his abdomen, red-tipped and leaking.

His gaze oscillated between your face and his cock, watching for any reaction as you took one hand to his length, squeezing him firmly. “Fuck,” he let out a grunt, his overwhelmed body responding to the smallest of touches.

You smirked at his reaction, taking a quick glimpse at his devastated features before moving back to what you were doing. Hoseok was so cute, you thought, liking the way he was so responsive.

A shudder ran up Hoseok’s body when your tongue came out between your lips, placing delicate licks on his base. He loved the feeling of your warm muscle against his hardened member, his mind growing eager as you began tracing a path upwards, flattening your tongue against him. His breathing was ragged by the time that you reached his crown, a hum escaping your throat as you lazily swirled your tongue around his tip, covering him with your saliva.

You took your time caressing his slit with your mouth, waiting until he was cursing and panting before you finally wrapped your lips around him. At first, you only took his tip in your mouth, sucking so slowly that Hoseok whined and buckled his hips from the bed, trying to make you move faster.

Wordlessly, you simply placed your palm against his thigh and pressed him back down. Even if that was the last thing he wanted to do, Hoseok accepted your order and settled back against the mattress, grunting as you continued to tease him.

“Please, put it all in,” he begged, starting to lose his trail of thought. “This is torture.”

And maybe another day you would have taken a bit more time torturing him, but, that afternoon, you were kind of in a rush to finish studying. So you complied.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.” His eyes shut and his head was thrown back as you fully sank down on his cock, your tongue flat against him. Before he could stop himself, his hand flew to your hair, yanking at the strands as you moved back up, your hand pumping the parts of him that you couldn’t reach.

“God, your mouth feels so great…” He moaned, back arching as you reached his tip once again, licking it before sinking back down — you took him just a bit deeper that time, and the motion didn’t pass by unnoticed. He was really starting to believe Jimin, and he wondered if maybe he should’ve been more worried about the entire rollercoaster situation. “Ah, that’s it. Just like that.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him cry out, desperate. Hoseok couldn’t hold himself back from moving closer to the edge of the bed, his other hand clenching your bedsheets between his fingers as you continued to swallow his cock like it belonged in the hot confinement of your mouth.

“Oh— oh my god, baby,” he grunted, pulling at the strands of your hair. His mind was starting to get hazy, his chest fluttering in a mess of sighs and heavy breaths every time that you sank down on his member; every time you flicked your tongue against his sentitive slit or pumped his base. “That’s really good, you take my cock so well.”

You looked up just to see the mess that Hoseok had turned into. With his mouth parted and eyes glazed over, he looked like he was about to fall apart at any second. He was watching you in complete awe, his eyebrows falling to form a beautiful frown of concentration; tongue coming out to lick his lips. He was so fucked out that you felt yourself getting riled up by his image, a pool of wetness accumulating between your thighs.

“You look so pretty like this.” He exhaled, unaware of his own words. Hoseok was too busy following your swollen, redden lips as they wrapped around his member, your cheeks hollowing after you sucked him with all that you had. Even the small amount of droll around your mouth was enough to make him throb in your hold, a grunt escaping him. “With these — fuck — those pretty lips around my cock, shit. I could watch you forever.”

You hummed around his member again at his words, the vibrations shooting directly at his core, where a rising heat had dangerously grown stronger, signaling his upcoming orgasm. Hoseok loved the way you actually looked like you were enjoying yourself, moaning and whimpering around his cock as you took all of him in your mouth, eyes closing every time he throbbed inside you. The eagerness in which you took him in, like you were starving for his cock, was one of the filthiest images that Hoseok had ever seen, and it was one that he knew would haunt his dreams for the years to come.

When you removed his cock from your mouth with a dirty wet sound, Hoseok was about to complain before he saw you licking down his length, one of your hands holding his cock away from your face as your tongue started to play with his balls. It was an odd feeling, but not an unwelcomed one, and it kept him on edge for a little while longer while you played with him.

With a timid whimper, you looked up at him as you licked your way back up to his tip. The image was so hot that he almost fainted, a deep moan escaping his throat when you took him back inside your delicious mouth.

And the truth was clearer than Hoseok had ever expected: Jimin was right.

“Fuck, babe, how did you get this good?” Hoseok grunted, trying his best to focus on the picture-perfect image of your lips wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock. He could tell that his release was starting to build up at an alarming rate, his thighs growing weaker every time you took him inside you. “Oh my- Ngh! Fuck! Oh my god!”

Hoseok’s mind was wiped clean when he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat, his hips buckling up as your throat clenched around him. He was pretty sure he was in heaven then — if he focused, he could hear angels singing all around him — , his pleasure overtaking every cell of his body as you continued sucking the soul out of him.

“Holy fuck, do that again,” he begged, his voice much higher than before. You didn’t need to be asked twice, because, within a second, he was crying out at the feeling of your throat wrapping around his cock one more time; his hands holding tightly to the roots of your hair. The only reason why Hoseok hadn’t started fucking your mouth yet was because he wanted to have you in control, giving him the best head of his life without any interruption. “Fuck, fuck— Baby, you’re so fucking good at this, fuck.”

There was a vague raising of his hips to meet your movements, making him hit the back of your throat again and again, the lewd sounds you were making filling the room. Nothing in his life had ever compared to that instant, he had ever felt a pleasure as great as he did at that point, and he knew it was about to snap.

“God, I’m gonna cum,” he sobbed, finally closing his eyes and letting the pleasure take over. “Fuck, you’re so good, I’m gonna—“

Hoseok filled your mouth with his cum, dripping down your throat when you swallowed around him. His head was spinning and his muscles were trembling, and that time he was unable to hold himself back from thrusting up against your mouth, trying to prolong that divine sensation for as long as he could before, at last, collapsing against the mattress with a final, shaky moan.

He barely heard you when you got up to your feet, his mind floating above his body as he tried to get himself back together. With the little force that he still had inside him, Hoseok leaned on his elbows and stared at you like you were made of gold. “Fuck, ____.” He breathed out, and the only thing he could say was, “What the fuck?”

You giggled at his reaction, thumb cleaning a bit of cum that had painted the corner of your mouth. “I appreciate your feedback,” you teased, pointing over your shoulder, to where your desk stood, forgotten. “Now that you have your answer, can I study in peace?”

“Y-Yeah, sure,” he struggled to say. “I’ll... stay quiet.”

You smiled brightly. “Thanks!”

He thought about thanking you right back for giving him the best orgasm of his life, but he thought that would make everything much more pathetic. So he didn’t.

Hoseok eventually found the motivation within him to put his cock back inside his underwear, clumsily pulling his pants back up. He found himself in the same position he was before everything went down: dumbfounded, staring at the back of your head as you worked on your textbook. The red numbers on the clock told him that just ten minutes had passed, and yet his life had completely changed.

All that he wanted was to return the favor — it was the fair exchange, after all. Hoseok sat up at the edge of the bed and spoke up, filled by a newfound courage. “Wait. Don’t you want me to take ca—”

“Shut the fuck up, Hoseok.”

His mouth fell shut and his courage deflated just as quickly. Maybe another time.

#hoseok #smut #hoseok smut #bts #bts fic #bts smut #bangtan boys #jung hoseok #pwp #drabble #smut drabble #x you #x reader #reader insert #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #bts x you #bts x reader #college au

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sariahsue · 3 years

Text

Rivals Are Always One “Make Me” Away From Kissing

Tossing the controller onto the desk, Adrien reached for Marinette’s waist and slid her into his lap. She came willingly, looping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair. (An Adrinette no powers video game AU - 10,000 words)

Adrien had to admit that he was a little bit of a nerd. Here he was, fifteen minutes early for school, in an outfit his personal assistant picked out for him, and looking over his homework alone in the hallway instead of talking with classmates or hanging out in the sunny courtyard like everyone else was doing.

A gust of cool air rushed in through an open doorway and ruffled his hair, making him sigh. It was no wonder he was still single.

The whisper of his name on the wind caught his attention.

"Nino?" Adrien called. The hallway was deserted, so he stuffed his homework into his backpack and stepped closer to the open doorway to investigate. The back of Nino's red cap came into view. He was sitting on the front steps, brushing shoulders with Alya.

"You have too much faith in my bro," Nino said.

Adrien stopped walking forward as his heart sank to the floor. Nino didn't believe in him about something?

"I'm giving Marinette one week, tops," Alya said.

"It's going to take him at least a month," Nino countered.

"You willing to bet on that?" she asked, standing.

"Yeah, I am."

Alya stuck out her hand, then pulled him up as they shook on it.

It was only when they started to turn to come into the building that Adrien realized he shouldn't have been eavesdropping while standing in the dead center of an empty hallway. There was nothing to hide him from the surprised eyes of his friends.

Alya was the first to recover, her expression quickly slipping to suspicion. "How much of that did you hear?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"Nothing!" he said, hands up. "I didn't-"

"Did you hear the news?" Nino cut in.

"N-no? What are you talking about?"

"The Olympic Committee voted."

"About?" Adrien asked. He tried to forget… whatever they'd been talking about.

"eGames are in for Paris 2024!"

"Seriously?" Adrien asked. "I thought they voted against that last month."

Nino ignored the comment and held out a hand for a high-five, but it was more like a middle five, limp and unenthusiastic. Nino glanced toward Alya, and they shared a smile.

"I bet I could get us tickets easy," Adrien said, pulling Nino's attention away from his girlfriend. "Want to come-"

Nino snapped back to attention, eyes gleaming. "You should sign up for the team."

"I should what?" Adrien asked, bewildered by his friend's sudden change in tone. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm not that good."

"No really, dude." Nino grabbed his arm. "I think you could do it." He threw an arm around Adrien's shoulder, turned him around and marched him deeper into the school.

"No thanks?" Adrien let himself be steered into a crowded hallway, Alya stalking behind them, her eyes burning into his back. "I'd need more practice than I have time for. Some of those gamers-"

"All you need-" Nino guided them around a group of upperclassmen. "-is a partner to practice with."

What was going on? Adrien knew he was kind of sheltered and maybe a little socially awkward, but he knew Nino well enough at this point that he could tell he was trying to set something up. "I get it. You want an excuse to play on my system every day. But you know my father-"

"Oh, no way, man. I'm not good enough." They stepped through a pair of double doors and out into the morning sunshine of the courtyard. Students laughed and yelled at each other. Others lounged on the stairs going up to the second floor. Nino's hand on his shoulder tightened and they stopped moving. "But maybe there's someone-"

"Yeah," Alya cut in. She shoved her way in between them and pointed to the middle of the courtyard, toward a tight cluster of students. "I bet Marinette would want to practice with you."

Adrien followed the line of Alya's finger. Marinette's dark hair and bright smile peeked out from the center of the group. As usual, she was surrounded by admirers, all of whom were laughing at something she had just said. His stomach clenched, though he wasn't sure why.

"You're kidding, right? She's one of the most popular girls in school."

"Did you miss the memo, sunshine?" Alya said. "You're pretty popular yourself."

"And the four of us hang out together all the time," Nino said. "I'm sure she would love to spend some time with just you."

"I don't even think I want to be in the Olympics," Adrien said, turning away from Marinette and glancing at his other friends. There was definitely something going on. Nino and Alya traded sideways glances and wiggling eyebrows, communicating something Adrien couldn't figure out.

"You really should ask Marinette to practice with you, dude," Nino said.

"No, I don't think-"

"Come on, Agreste." Alya stepped up into his space. Not that he could ever tell Nino this, but his girlfriend could be scary when she wanted to be. She was somehow towering over him, even though he could have sworn a few seconds ago that he was taller than she was. "You want a gold medal, don't you?"

"No?"

"Yes, you do. Now go ask Marinette."

"This isn't even about the Olympics, is it?"

Alya nudged him through the open door and into the light. Adrien blinked, disoriented by the sudden movement and the direction his morning had taken.

"Get moving," Alya insisted.

"Okay, okay! I'll ask her!" he said. His plan to skirt around Marinette's knot of students and escape to the other edge of the courtyard was shot down when his friends' footsteps crunched behind him. They weren't going to let him get away.

Feeling their eyes on him, Adrien weaved his way through the students that filled the yard, hoping the bell would ring and give him an excuse to abandon his quest. What was really happening here?

Guys and girls alike were leaning over Marinette's shoulder, and as he got closer he could tell the laughter was due to something on the sketch pad she was holding. Her smile and the light hitting her hair just right made her glow. Her eyes sparkled.

And Adrien stopped moving.

There was no way he could approach her with this many people around. What was he going to say, anyway? Hey, I think our friends are terrible and plotting something against me, and I'm going to regret asking later, but will you please play video games with me? It sounded stupid even in his head.

A single, sharp fingernail between his shoulder blades reminded him that he had no choice in the matter, so he stepped forward, excusing himself through the crowd of Marinette's admirers, until he was close enough to grab her elbow and borrow her attention.

"A-a-adrien?" she asked, stuttering when her bright eyes found his. "How you- uh, what?"

"Can we play video games later?" Ugh. This was even worse out loud than it had been in his head. "Um, the Olympics are coming up later. And we should practice." Yes, that was an eloquent explanation. Very smooth.

Marinette's eyes went wide in a doe-eyed stare, like she couldn't believe he'd ask her such a thing. "Oh." Her voice shook. "Th-tho nank you. No thank you! I don't-" She glanced behind him, over his shoulder. "I mean, yes! I would love to!" She stared at his feet and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

Adrien glanced quickly behind him. Nino and Alya were standing a little way away, looking far too innocent. Alya examined her fingernails. Nino was gazing all around the courtyard, not fixing on any one point, his face blank. So they were bullying Marinette into it, too? Whatever they were planning, he wasn't going to let them make her uncomfortable.

"You don't have to," he told her quickly, and her head snapped back up to his. "I mean, it's probably a stupid idea. If you don't want to, I understand. It's kind of a weird idea. And I think the Olympics are dumb and, I mean, you probably like them, so-"

"No," she said quickly, mercifully cutting him off. She reached out to grab his arm, but pulled back just before her fingers brushed his skin. It was close enough to raise goosebumps.

"I do want to practice with you," Marinette said.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Really," she said, putting enough force into it that she sounded almost convincing.

"Okay," he said, skeptical. She must have so many friends and demands on her attention. She was really going to make time for one-on-one time for him? "I have a free two hours before my piano lessons tomorrow. I'll ask if you can come over."

"I'm free then!"

After her initial hesitation, he was surprised to hear her so excited. What was really going on? "Then, that's good, I guess. Sounds... good. Great."

"Great," she echoed.

The bell rang. Relieved, Adrien walked off through the shuffling crowd, pushing through sharp elbows and heavy backpacks and toward Nino and Alya, who were muttering to each other, their heads close together, and not paying him any attention.

Alya was whispering as he approached. He only caught a soft, "They're going to be-" before she noticed him and walked off.

"Bro, please make me lose." Nino adjusted the headphones around his neck.

"You want to lose? What, a bet?"

"Can't say," Nino said. "It's important, though. You've got a month."

If Adrien was confused before, he was stumped now. The only thing he was sure of was that this had nothing to do with the Committee vote or video games. Was Marinette in on it or was she his fellow victim?

Now that he didn't need the bell to save him from anything, it happily rang the beginning of class. Dozens of shoes shuffled down the hallways. Friends called out to each other. Adrien trailed far behind Marinette on his way to their class. Her pigtails bounced to her enthusiastic step.

What was really happening?

***

A week later, Adrien didn't really care what the motivation behind the practice sessions had been. He was having too much fun. In a stunning display of paternal affection, Gabriel had allowed Adrien to set up regular video gaming sessions with Marinette. Or Nathalie had put it into his schedule and not mentioned it to his father. Probably the second one, though he liked to pretend.

Today, they were up in his room, being washed in the music of Mario Kart that they were playing on his gigantic television. Adrien sat up straight on the couch, toes digging into the plush carpet, and pouring his focus onto the screen, but Marinette was draped across the furniture, one foot dragging on the floor, the other accidentally poking his knee whenever one of them leaned into a turn.

In the past few days, a remarkable change had come over Marinette. Instead of being anxious and fidgety whenever they ran into each other at school, the hours of being together had forced her to grow relaxed around him. It was amazing to see the side of her that everyone else so admired shining out of her when she was with him, instead of it being trapped under her awkward stutter like it used to be. He loved this.

As he rounded the final turn, Marinette on his tail, he squeezed the controller even harder, though his character was already going at top speed. A squirt of black ink blocked out his half of the screen.

"No!" he yelled, trying to negotiate the curve while blind. "I forgot you had that one! I thought you were out!"

Marinette didn't leave her position on the couch until she'd crossed the finish line. When she did, she jumped up and crowed her victory. "I beat you again! Admit it! You're going to cry yourself to sleep tonight because I creamed you so bad!"

Adrien wiped away a fake tear with her controller and was rewarded with one of Marinette's soft giggles. The sound was infectious, and soon his laughter joined hers. This was the way a lot of their games ended. Win or lose, they were both happy, just because they enjoyed each other's company.

Adrien's suspicions had melted away over the past few days. Nino and Alya were dating, and they wanted their best friends to spend time together. That must have been it. He had to admit, he loved the idea.

And he loved that she was comfortable enough with him to be the person he saw her be with other people, bold and funny and expressive, somehow kind and fierce at the same time, ready to compliment him or trash talk him at a moment's notice. It kept him on his toes.

While the question of why it had taken her so long to warm up to him nagged at him, it wasn't enough to keep him from acknowledging that he was much happier when she was around.

"So what do you want to play next?" Marinette slid off the couch and pulled out his collection of games.

"Shovel of Hope," he said quickly.

"I usually pick that one," she said, turning to direct a questioning eyebrow his way.

"It is. And I want you to be happy, so we can play your favorites twice in a row."

A slack look of shock was replaced quickly by Marinette's shy smile, and Adrien's heart flipped.

He'd always known she had a nice smile. So why did it seem like a new revelation just now?

***

If Adrien's observation about their first week together was how much he liked Marinette, then observation about the second week was how much his game had improved.

Marinette's skill on most games was just a little higher than his own, so playing against her was always a challenge, and teaming up with her was always instructive. Of course, her teasing continually spurred him on.

Today they were in her room playing Zombie Fighter 2, which he'd never even heard of before. And it showed. After seven rounds, he had failed to land a single hit on Marinette's character. He went down in a shower of sparks.

"KO'd again! I can't believe it!" Adrien tossed his controller into his lap. He noticed every time his left knee brushed her right as they sat cross-legged on her chaise.

"Your skills are improving, young grasshopper," Marinette said.

"How is losing improving?"

"You lasted a whole ten seconds longer than last time. You're learning how to run away."

Adrien socked her in the face with a pink pillow. He'd been in her room a handful of times now and he still couldn't get over how pink everything was. Walls, curtains, blankets, even furniture. It suited her, though.

Marinette stood up and stretched. A small strip of skin peeked out where her shirt rode up. "We should head downstairs. Your driver will be here soon."

"No." Adrien averted his gaze quickly. "Let's play one more!" The warmth of Marinette's room wasn't something he looked forward to leaving, not when his own sterile, empty room was the only thing waiting to welcome him home.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said. "Can't get enough of me, or can't get enough of being pounded into the ground, I wonder?"

"Jury's out."

"Ouch! Why do I keep you around, again?" she asked.

"Must be because I'm so cute." Adrien selected his character, and the screen lit up with another round.

"Must be." Marinette ruffled his hair.

Adrien sat up a little straighter. Was it the praise? Or was it her touch? When she took her hand away, it was to fix his grip on the controller.

"You're never going to win like that. Your fingers aren't spread out enough. Like this." She adjusted each finger individually, pushing and poking and smoothing each one into place until they curved just so.

Her hands radiated warmth. But not just that. It felt like... kindness? Caring? How was he getting that from just the feel of her fingertips against his wrists, directing him to relax the sudden tension in his arms?

By the time she pulled away and they started playing, Adrien's hands were shaking. He pulled them deeper into his lap, so she wouldn't see the tremors.

What was happening? And why did he feel like Marinette touching him again was going to make him feel better? Whatever it was, it wasn't helping him win.

"That'll teach me to compliment you," Marinette said after cutting down his avatar with ease. "That was awful. What happened?"

"Just tired, I guess," Adrien said, putting his controller between them and flapping his hands, like they were sweaty or cramping or something else normal.

"Tired, huh? I can play better than that in my sleep! So what's the real reason?"

"Tired. That's really the reason."

"Tired of getting beat, maybe."

"Oh, lay off."

"Make me."

He needed something to do with the nervous energy in his hands, and Marinette was asking for it. When he poked her side, she made the most adorable squeal he'd ever heard, and he had to do it again. The tickle fight that ensued was nothing short of inevitable. She tried to reach for the pillow on the floor to defend herself with, but he took the opportunity to poke her side and she tumbled off the chaise and pulled him with her. It wasn't enough to stop him.

"I surrender!" Marinette gasped after only a few seconds. "You win!"

"You admit I'm better at something than you?"

"No, your arms are just longer, like a monkey's." She laughed even before she felt his retaliation tickle for the jibe.

As their laughter subsided, Adrien felt lighter. He hadn't had fun with a friend like this in he couldn't remember how long. His father always made him feel foolish for finding something mildly amusing. Somehow, Marinette made falling off his seat liberating instead of embarrassing. He loved that about her.

Sprawled out as they were, it took Adrien a few seconds before he noticed where his hand was resting. Right on Marinette's soft stomach. She was smiling up the ceiling, not seeming to notice or care that he was touching her. It felt nice.

But it was probably weird. He was being weird.

So why was he not moving?

His hand moved up and down with her breathing, rhythmic and calming. Would she stop him if he slid his fingers along the fabric and felt the texture of her shirt?

He kept his hands still until she sighed deeply, and then he guiltily removed it.

***

It had been the best month of Adrien's life, and he owed it all to the girl who was walking toward him. The school courtyard was packed with students going home for the day. Backpacks hung off shoulders. People shouted to each other. Heads bobbed up and down as they tried to find their friends in the crowd.

Marinette's small build made it difficult for her to push her way through the crowd, but shoved backpacks and used her elbows and finally reached him. He was touched by the effort that she made to be near him.

"Nino and Alya coming?" he asked.

"Over there," she said, nodding toward the couple. "You ready to head out? My dad promised croissants for all of us today, and I'm very done with school right now."

It wasn't easy to pick out their friends in the mass of students, but he finally found them by the stairs, heads together like they were whispering despite the noise.

"What are they talking about?"

Marinette sighed. "The, uh, that bet." She looked sideways at him, like she was hoping he'd say something about it.

"Oh," Adrien said, racking his brain for scraps of memory. "Nino won, right? He said it was going to take over a month." For someone who won a bet, he didn't look very happy about it. The two looked over at him at the same time and frowned. Well, Nino frowned. Alya glowered.

"Technically, Alya's got until the end of the day but... yeah." Her voice became very quiet. Small and sad. "Nino's going to win."

"I never learned what that was about," he said, hoping she would provide an answer to the mystery.

Marinette just shook her head and started fidgeting with her purse strap to avoid looking at him. "L-let's wait for them," she stammered.

That wasn't a good sign. He didn't want to push her into her old habit of not being able to hold a conversation with him, so he didn't ask again. "Sure, we can wait," he said, taking a step to the side to give her some space. "It looks like they're on their way over already."

Nino and Alya approached with fake smiles plastered on their faces, like nothing had happened. Neither greeted Adrien or Marinette when they reached them, just kept walking toward the doors. The crowd thickened the closer to the door they got. Students pushed to get out of the building, and Adrien quickly lost sight of Nino and Alya somewhere ahead of him. He and Marinette squeezed through the doors and finally made it out onto the stairs.

"Oh no!" Marinette pulled at her hair as they started down the stairs.

"What?" Adrien asked, shuffling behind a red backpack that was going much slower than it needed to.

"Nothing, nothing. I just broke an elastic again." Keeping one fist in her hair to hold the pigtail in place, she fished in her purse for another one. Their pace became a crawl as she searched.

"Just wear it down," Adrien suggested.

"I'll look stupid," she said, giving up the search in favor of digging in her pockets.

"Come on, you'll look fine," he said, trying to convince her so they could catch back up to the others. He could see them waiting by the crosswalk, backs to them. "I've never seen your hair down before."

Marinette half turned to him, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "All right," she finally said, letting it fall and taking out the other side to match. She brushed it out with her fingers as they finished walking down the stairs.

She looked nice like that. Really nice. A piece of him thought he should probably tell her that, so she wouldn't feel self-conscious. The rest of him was just glad Alya and Nino weren't looking at them, so they couldn't see him gaping at Marinette like a vulture.

That was when his hands started trembling. The nervous energy was back, urging him to reach out and touch her. Maybe tuck that stray strand of hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger by her cheek, his fingertips graze her jaw. But he didn't want her to pull away again, so he clenched his fists and tried to remind himself that there was no reason for him to be acting this weird around her.

"I feel like everyone is staring at me," she said after only a few seconds.

Well, I don't know about everyone. At least one person is. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. Students started breaking away from the main group, escaping down the sidewalk toward their homes. Nino and Alya had finally noticed their approach.

"My hair must look stupid. I knew it!" She threw her hands on top of her head, a combination of covering herself and patting it down to lie smooth.

"They're only staring because you're so beautiful."

Adrien and Marinette stopped and stared at each other. Alya and Nino stared at the pair of them. A light turned green and cars streamed past, the wind they created making Marinette's hair dance.

Marinette looked as surprised at his words as he felt. But it was true. He'd never thought about it before, but she was probably the prettiest person he'd ever met. Inside and out.

When the initial shock wore off after three seconds, Marinette hunched her shoulders. "Oh, w-w-well, y-you th-thank."

Panic settled over him as she stuttered. He'd messed up somehow. She was nervous. He'd made her uncomfortable. He was weird and made her feel weird, and he'd messed everything up. She was upset.

He opened his mouth to apologize – he had no idea how to apologize for giving an honest compliment but he knew he had to try – but the look on her face froze his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Shock and disbelief, warring with curiosity. But they were all replaced with the familiar crinkle in her eyes that meant a challenge was sure to follow.

"So your true feelings come out at last," she said in delight. "Sorry, but I can't get involved with my sparring partner, so don't ask."

"What-"

"No, no. Your begging won't work on me!" She pushed him away with one hand flat against his chest.

Could she feel his heart beating through his shirt? She must have been able to. The whirlwind shift in her attitude was making him nervous.

He looked at Nino and Alya for help at this sudden change. They were both open-mouthed.

That was when it clicked. She was just teasing him again. Or more likely daring him. He knew her well enough to know that tone when he heard it, the same when she offered a bonus challenge round. That compliment had been sincere, but he knew how to play along.

"Oh please, Marinette," he said, falling to his knees. "Your grace and beauty surpass all." The words were so easy to say. Too easy. "Make me the happiest boy in school and go out with me?" He clasped his hands and unleashed the most pitiful expression he knew how to make, not sure if he was even acting.

Marinette flipped her loose hair over her shoulder. "I could never give my heart to my most bitter rival."

"Noooo!" He threw his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her stomach. He heard more than felt her laughter, but inside he ached. Ached as she ran her fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck and then because she pulled her hand away. Ached because it felt so good to be close to her and then because he was letting her go as he stood back up. It was all he could do not to let the ache show through his fake smile as he continued the "joke."

Nino had his face in hands. "I hate both of you," he mumbled through his fingers. "So, so much."

Alya had already given up on them. She was halfway to the bakery.

"That's unfair," Marinette said, shifting her backpack and not looking at Adrien like he wished she would. "This is completely Adrien's fault."

"Mine?" he said, trying to sound scandalized instead of bitterly disappointed. "You're the one who won't go out with me."

She opened her mouth to respond, only to pause when she saw his face. He tried to school his expression, hide the new emotions pulsing through his blood, replace it with a smirk and a wink.

It must have worked because Marinette tapped his nose and said, "Sorry, Adrien. You'll have to ask me again some other time. I'm too busy being single at the moment."

The words cut deeper than they had any right to.

Nino grumbled something and turned away. Across the street, Alya shouted, "Are you two done being stupid yet?"

It seemed like Marinette was the only one who was truly happy after the joke, though he thought he saw something else flash across her face as she looked away. He wanted to pretend that it was longing or maybe regret, but he knew that couldn't be true. Marinette considered him just a friend. They had only been joking.

No, she had been joking. Everything he'd said was real. Why hadn't he realized it sooner?

His compliments, all the praise, asking her out, every single word of it had been real.

The ache settled deep into his heart.

***

The next morning, Adrien arrived at school a few minutes earlier than he normally would have, heart pounding and exhausted as he walked through the front doors. The exhaustion was caused by barely sleeping at all last night, instead being consumed with thoughts of Marinette, her confidence, her hair, her laughter, her quiet beauty, her kindness, and how much he wanted to touch her and spend time with her.

It hadn't even been 24 hours since he'd realized he was in love with her, but it spread through him like an wildfire, burning him up from the inside out, reaching through every part of him and carving out new places for thoughts of Marinette to inhabit, driving him to do something, anything so he could be with her.

His pounding heart was caused by that last bit, the knowledge that he now needed to act. His plan was simple, but he ran through it again anyway as he waited by her locker. As casually as he could, he was going to ask her out. But not on a date. Not yet. If she didn't like him that way (the "if" killed him; he knew she didn't), he wasn't going to mess up his chance by playing his hand too soon. He repeated his line over and over again. "I was just wondering if you'd like to do something other than video games with me some time?"

It was simple. It was normal friend stuff. He leaned against her locker, the cool metal soothing the voice that said she was going to say no, that he was an idiot for even asking her. After joking around yesterday, it was clear that she only thought of him as her weird gaming nerd friend. Why would she want to do other things with him?

But he had to try anyway. If she said yes, it would be a step in the right direction. He would be able to spend more time with her.

Though he tried not to, Adrien watched every person who entered the hallway, waiting for her. His heart leaped to his throat every time he saw black hair, and it crashed back down to his feet every time it wasn't hers.

If she said no, well, he would accept his place as just her gaming buddy, even though it would break his heart. And he could always pretend that their practice sessions were dates, right? Besides, he'd known her for over a year and he'd been okay with being only friends that entire time. It would probably be simple to find his way back to that easy, uncomplicated friendship.

He slipped a little farther down the cold locker door. His argument was very unconvincing, and he swallowed back the tightness in his throat at the idea.

Black hair bobbed into view, and this time it was Marinette's face underneath it. Blue eyes flashing. Smiling broadly at someone who wasn't him.

Excitement and terror washed through him. Her laughter echoed down the hall ahead of her, and he basked in the sound and sight of her. Would he even be able to speak by the time she finally saw him?

Marinette hadn't noticed him yet. She was talking with someone else, and Adrien's eyes flicked to her companion.

Nathaniel was laughing too, then laughing harder at something else Marinette said. Without hesitation, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug. Marinette looked content as they walked ever closer to her locker, and that's when Adrien finally accepted the truth.

She was going to say no.

And he couldn't accept just being friends.

With only seconds to make up his mind before she saw him, Adrien did the only thing he could think of.

He ran away.

***

Today's practice was taking place cross-legged on his floor, staring up at his giant television. Marinette sat with him, a six-inch gap separating them, but she looked over at him from time to time, concerned at his silence.

Over the past week, Adrien hadn't given up hope completely, though he knew he should have. Marinette didn't like him that way and was way out of his league. The knowledge didn't stop him from agonizing over the perfect thing to say that would get her to change her mind, or at least give him a chance.

In the end, he had waited too long.

Though he was trying to act like everything was fine, the jealousy ripping through him was affecting his mood, his game, even his face, and had been chewing him up all afternoon. For the millionth time, he tried smoothing out his scowl. He'd already given up trying to shake life back into his numb hands.

B, up, duck, A. Button smashing when he knew he wasn't fast enough. Finally watching as his avatar felt defeated to the mat. Again. He took a shaky breath.

"Okay, what is going on?" Marinette asked, placing her controller carefully down in front of her, lining it up perfectly parallel to her knees. "You're making a lot of rookie mistakes. It isn't like you."

"Oh, just tired," Adrien said, making a show of stretching and lolling back.

"You told me this morning you'd slept really well last night," she said flatly.

"Oh." Right. He'd said that. Shoot. "Tired... from school."

"Okay... What was so-"

Adrien started a new round, forcing Marinette to scramble for her controller and cut off her interrogation.

It was only going to buy him time. If Marinette thought someone was upset, he knew she wasn't going to let it rest until she'd helped them feel better. It was one of many, many things that he loved about her. But he also knew he'd be better off bringing it up before she did, so he could steer the conversation.

They played for a few minutes in silence while Adrien's character was annihilated and he organized his thoughts. "So..." he finally asked, and he was pleased to hear his voice sounding almost normal, not tense like he felt. "What did Nathaniel want to talk to you privately about earlier?"

Adrien knew. She probably knew that he knew.

Nathaniel had asked her out. Adrien had been too slow, and now she was someone else's girlfriend. Could she read the agony on his face underneath the mask of disinterest?

"Oh, Nathaniel asked me for a date." How could she be so calm about the thing that was causing him to die inside? Sensing his distress, his avatar also keeled over and died. Round sixteen ended in defeat.

"Oh? That's..." He gulped. What question would just a friend ask? "When's the big-" He forced the word out. "-date?" That had sounded awful. The words and his delivery.

"I turned him down," she said casually, and just as casually she slaughtered his character again.

The next round began as Adrien blurted out a thrilled, "Really?!"

Marinette's character killed itself by jumping off the edge as she dropped her controller and turned to stare at him.

Adrien cleared his throat. "Really? Too bad for him, I guess." I'm cool about this, Marinette. Not interested in you or your love life at all. His unasked question hung over them: Why did she turn Nathaniel down? He couldn't bring himself to ask.

She continued to stare, considering him, then turned away with a smile she couldn't quite hold in. "I've wiped the floor with you for the past eighteen levels. You want to go again, or are you ready to admit your defeat?”

"And let you rub it in for the rest of our lives? I don't think so."

"I promise not to if you agree to do my homework for the rest of the year."

"I would absolutely love to never do that ever. Bring on level nineteen."

"Oh, that's what I was hoping you would say." Her glance was sly, and Adrien felt a challenge coming on.

Their characters were whirls of pixels, but this time he had no problem keeping up. She'd turned Nathaniel down! Adrien was back on form, matching Marinette stroke for stroke, about to pull out his first win since-

"I bet you were wondering why I said no." Marinette's avatar slipped a punch over his slack fists, knocking him down to half health with one blow. "It's because I already like someone else." With one more kick, she finished him off.

Adrien gripped his controller, not seeing the screen or even her as the next level started playing. Of course she already liked someone. Someone as loving as Marinette would have someone she loved. He'd never even had a chance, even before he'd wanted one. He was an idiot for not realizing.

"Complete devastation!" Marinette said. She meant his character, but she could have been talking about the boy sitting next to her. Both were crumbling to the ground.

The practice session ended early that day. Marinette sent him several questioning looks over the next hour that he stubbornly ignored, and he was glad she didn't push him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand her sympathy.

Like the gentleman he was, Adrien walked her to his bedroom door. Even with the awkward tension lingering in the air, he wanted her to stay a little longer. Maybe sensing that, or maybe just still hoping to cheer him up, Marinette hesitated in front of the closed doorway.

Adrien opened his mouth to speak, but when he realized he had no idea what it was he wanted to say, he shut it again slowly. Marinette waited patiently, playing with the hem of her shirt. What could he tell her? Nothing that would help his situation. Nothing that would change her mind about whatever wonderful guy she had her eye on. Nothing that would make her consider her dork of a gaming partner.

Marinette smiled up at him. After the miserable company he'd been all afternoon, she still felt like smiling at him? He almost blurted all his feelings out anyway.

"Well..." she said. "I should go."

Pushing herself up on her toes so she could reach and putting her hands on his shoulders for balance, Marinette placed an unexpected kiss on his cheek, just next to his mouth.

Adrien closed his eyes at the tender touch, heart melting.

I could turn my head, he thought as her lips lingered. I could wrap my arms around her and never let go. The scene was vivid in his mind, her hands slipping from his shoulders to his chest, fingertips tracing the stripes across his shirt. Whispers of how much she loved him. Him pulling Marinette close, her wanting him to.

But it wasn't real. She wouldn't like that, he reminded himself, so he kept still. His hands gripped his jeans to keep them from seeking her out.

When she pulled away a few seconds later, her look was intense. Despite her announced intention to leave, she hesitated. Waiting for something. For him to say something?

The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. Confess! He could do it!

He could, but he shouldn't. She'd just admitted to liking someone else. How disrespectful of her confession would telling her now be? Adrien didn't want to lose her.

"See you tomorrow?" he said, pulling the door open for her.

She frowned, not like she was angry. Like she'd been disappointed. Without another word, she slipped through the door and padded down the wide atrium stairs. He didn't take his eyes off her the whole time, but she didn't turn around to see it. From his spot so far away, he heard the front door click softly behind her.

He stayed put long after she'd gone, replaying the kiss in his mind, what her soft lips felt like, the tingle he'd felt as she'd rested her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, the heat of having her body so close to his.

Had it been all his imagination, telling him what he wanted, or had her kiss really been that close to his mouth? It had felt like she'd almost touched his lips she'd been so close.

The memory was still fresh on his skin, and he outlined the spot hesitantly, then with awe as his finger brushed the corner of his mouth. It wasn't his imagination. She really had.

Maybe... maybe he had misunderstood. Hope bubbled up inside him. She liked someone else, someone other than Nathaniel. He wasn't Nathaniel. What if she'd meant him?

What if he did have a chance after all?

***

Adrien wanted to be absolutely sure. Getting his hopes up again, or listening to Marinette's rejection, would be too painful. He was going to make sure he was the one, so he spent the next week looking for clues that he was the lucky boy she'd set her sights on.

And clues were everywhere.

They were mostly little things, like the way her face would light up when he came around a corner, or how she leaned into his touch when he dared to brush her bangs out of her eyes, or how she didn't scoot away if he sat down close to her.

Four days later, in the middle of a hard level, he experimentally touched his hand to her knee, keeping the pressure as light as he could, in case it wasn't wanted. She scooted closer, like she wanted to make it easier for him to do it again.

Marinette knew about his strict diet and would often bring him goodies, leftovers from the bakery. The following day, she'd brought him ones she'd made herself "with love." That's what she said. The big L word. A small part of him told him to calm down. She could have meant that she loved him as a friend. Most of him excitedly took it as an obvious hint.

Overall, his second favorite hint of her feelings was how she glowed under his compliments.

"These pastries are the best things I've ever tasted! Could you teach me to make them?" Marinette stumbled over her words for the next five minutes.

"Forget competing in the Olympics," he said two days later. "You could be the team coach. You're amazing!" She blushed for the rest of the day.

The best hint, the one that left him reeling, was becoming a common occurrence: she talked to him. Lately, their practice sessions would be filled with long stretches when they chatted about everything and nothing, controllers abandoned.

Today, she lounged on his couch, and he sat on the floor by her head. She'd asked him about his day, and he'd listened to hers, though she admitted herself that it was boring. She'd asked him about his day, then about his dreams for the future.

The honest curiosity she had for his answers, the fact that she even cared, left him leaning the couch for support. Marinette was on her back and smiled up at him as the movement brought him closer.

The conversation hit a lull when he ran out of things to say. Instead of feeling awkward, it was peaceful, and she closed her eyes and sighed.

What a perfect time to test her feelings for him again. Before he could think better of it, he ran his fingers through her hair. Her reaction was immediate. Her whole body relaxed, her smile widening. When she opened her eyes to look up at him, they were soft, maybe even loving.

But the "maybe" was still too daunting, and he pulled his hand back and looked away.

He needed to tell her how he felt. He liked her too much not to. He wanted her to look at him like that all the time. So why was he pulling out the controllers again to avoid her? Was it really better to wait and see what happened? Or should he just lay his heart bare right now?

He settled on the couch next to her, Marinette bending her knees to give him room without moving from her spot. Was she still giving him that loving look? Or had it turned into a frown because he was being a coward? He hunched forward under the weight of all his questions, resting his forearms on his knees.

"I bet I could beat you in my sleep," Marinette said. Her voice sounded normal, so he dared to look at her. Her face was mischievous as she stretched out with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her legs across his lap and pinning his arms down. "Care to bet against me?"

"Um, move. I need those arms."

"Make me."

Two more hints: the ease with which she touched him, and the way she seemed to save her most dazzling smiles just for him.

"Make you?" Massive crush or not, Adrien was not about to pass up a challenge. "I'll make you."

Marinette settled deeper into the cushions, pressing down onto his arms. It was the best trap he'd even been in, and he couldn't reach much to help him, just the coffee table in front of them. Leftover snacks littered the table, along with a half-filled glass of water. He slid it off the edge of the couch as Marinette squirmed to keep him in place.

With his limited movement, he couldn't lift the cup very high, so he mimed pouring it over her shins. She shrieked and kicked him in her scramble to get out of the way, and the glass spun out of his hand, splashing water all over him before landing on the floor. It soaked into his shirt and dripped through his hair.

"I'm sorry!" Marinette jumped up immediately, flapping her arms around her head so fast they blurred. "I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine," he assured her while rivulets of water tickled his down scalp. "It wasn't that much water."

She groaned at the lie. "I'll go get you a towel."

Before he could protest, she ran toward the bathroom door. Adrien followed her, dripping. "It was my fault. Please don't-"

A fluffy towel muffled his words as she threw it over his head and started rubbing it into his hair. "Marinette," he mumbled. "You don't have t-" The pace of her hands became less frantic as she moved from the crown of his head, moving down to dry the back.

"Sorry," she whispered. Her tempo became even slower as she worked the sides of his heads, rubbing gently so she wouldn't hurt his ears. Plans to "accidentally" get himself soaked on a weekly basis were already starting to form in his mind. He wasn't sure if it was the attention she was paying him or her rhythmic pace as she stroked circles around his ears, but every muscle in his body seemed to be melting.

"Is that any better?" she asked. Her hands stilled, but she didn't remove the towel from his face. Her breathing was quick and shallow.

Adrien lifted up the edge to reveal Marinette's panicked face. What did she think? That he was going to hate her because of some water? He wasn't a cat.

Her eyes searched his, looking for anger or rejection or who knew what, and he gently grabbed her face with both hands to bring her back to reality. And as an excuse to act out at least the beginning of every fantasy he had about kissing her. With the way she was looking at him, he could even pretend that they were about to come true.

"It's fine," he said, rubbing a thumb across her cheek. "I'm all dry now." A cold spot was soaking through at his shoulder, but he ignored it.

After a few more seconds of wide-eyed staring, Marinette slid the towel off his head and looped it behind his neck, holding onto both ends and giving no indication that she wanted him to remove his hands. So he didn't.

Another clue. It finally was enough. He knew.

Leaning in slowly, so she would have time to change her mind, he looked at her lips, then raised an eyebrow in question. Marinette used the towel to pull him closer to her, closing her eyes. A rush of heat swooped in his stomach when he felt her body brush against him. Her breath fanned his face as he inched closer. They hovered, anticipation building, noses brushing, lips quivering, until he tilted his head and finally closed his eyes.

Without warning, the door swung open. "Adrien."

Marinette and Adrien jumped apart, the towel falling on the floor.

Nathalie walked in, staring at her tablet and almost ignoring the teenagers she was speaking to. She hadn't noticed anything. "Your piano teacher is here. Ms. Dupain-Cheng's ride is waiting downstairs." Without another word, or even looking around the room for them, she left, leaving the door open after her.

"Um," Adrien said. Cursing the interruption, he bent to pick up the towel. When he straightened he reached out for Marinette's hand, but she was already across the room, picking up her things and not looking at him, her face glowing red.

She snuck him a peek once as she was putting her shoes back on, but when she saw him staring at her, she looked down again. Probably because he was gaping at her like an idiot.

Marinette finally walked back over to him, eyeing the wet spot on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-

"Want a hug?" he asked, offering his arms. "It's nice and cold."

She chuckled as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his. "Thanks for having me over." Her breath blew his hair, tickling him. "And for letting me beat you."

"Oh, yes," he said. The hug didn't feel cold at all. It was warming him up from head to toe. "I lost on purpose, just for you." How was he supposed to just let her walk out his door, when all he wanted to do was hold her and never move from this spot again? "Because your happiness is so important to me."

As she pulled away and stepped back, he grabbed her hand, and then just as quickly let it go, unsure how to recreate the mood that had so quickly evaporated.

They waited, neither moving, Adrien hoping for at least another goodbye kiss like she'd given him last week. Without warning her expression crumpled, and she walked through the door without saying goodbye at all.

She'd been waiting, he realized as soon as she was gone. She'd been waiting for a goodbye kiss, too.

Adrien ran to the window in time to watch her walk down the front steps. He followed her with his eyes as she slid into the car. When she turned to pull the door closed behind her, she paused, looking straight at him. He waved, but she shut it without returning the gesture.

"Tomorrow," he vowed. It was Saturday, and they had another practice in the morning. The first words out of his mouth were going to be his confession.

He just needed to figure out what to say.

***

Saturday mornings used to mean stifling isolation. There was no school to look forward to. His tutors often had the day off, and if there wasn't a photoshoot, he was likely to be confined to his room. Another benefit of having Marinette in his life was that he was no longer alone on the oppressive weekends.

"You're smart, and kind, and funny." Adrien muttered to himself in the back seat, his driver occasionally looking at him with concern through the rearview mirror. He'd been rehearsing multiple versions of his speech since last night. It was only a few minutes until he saw her, and he still hadn't decided what to say. Should he just blurt it out? "Marinette, I love you." Or should he build up to it? "I've loved spending time with you, and you're my best friend, and lately you've become more than that." He tested them both out. They were both fine, so why did they both sound so... wrong?

Maybe he wasn't being specific enough. Anyone could tell her she was great. So what should he say about her specifically? This only led him back to all the other lists of rehearsed lines he'd come up with in the last 12 hours, her confidence, her infectious joy, her compassion...

The car pulled up to the curb, and Adrien stepped out, knees a little wobbly with anxiety. He was going to have to just wing it. Say what felt right in the moment. Which was a terrifying idea, but now he had no choice.

The bell tinkled and the smell of fresh bread and chocolate chip cookies filled his nose as soon as he pushed open the bakery door. Sabine and Tom turned to him with wide smiles.

"She's already waiting for you," Sabine said, waving him through the door to their upstairs apartment. "Have fun!"

His footsteps seemed to echo through the small hallway. Hesitating only a second, he knocked on the door that led into her living room, and waited, heart pounding.

Marinette, I have something to tell you. Marinette, I love you. Marinette, before we start to play, can we talk? He'd promised himself. The first words out of his mouth would be his confession. Don't mess it up, Adrien. Just tell her you love her.

The door was yanked inward so fast that it hit the wall. Adrien jumped. "M-marinette. I lo-"

"I've got a new idea! Come here!" She reached through the doorway and clamped down on his wrist, then turned and towed him through the living room and up her stairs. A woman on a mission.

He had no idea what that mission was, or what really was happening, so his imagination started supplying possibilities. She got a new game? She needed to show him her newest art project? He tripped on the top step when he thought that maybe she was dragging him up to her room because she couldn't wait to kiss him.

He imagined her snapping the trapdoor shut, with the pink curtains closed and her room dimly lit by filtered light. She would let go of his hand, then turn around to face him, before slowly stepping into his space. She'd slide her hands up his shirt, stopping at the collar, grabbing fistfuls to pull herself closer. And closer. Their faces were millimeters apart. He could count the lashes of her half-closed eyes. He reached for her eagerly, wrapping both arms around her waist, pulling her closer, her stomach flush against him.

"I love you," she whispered. "You're the only one for me." Her lips parted slightly as her eyes slid shut.

Marinette's voice was suddenly bright and cheery. "Pick your favorite button!"

Adrien's daydream popped.

Sunlight flooded her room through uncovered windows. Her trapdoor was still open, as her parents had always requested, and she waited for an answer expectantly, bouncing on her toes and not looking smitten in the slightest.

"Uh, what?"

"Buttons," she repeated. "Which one's your favorite?"

She'd dragged him upstairs for sewing help. He cleared his throat and smoothed out the collar of his shirt, which hadn't been rumpled by her hands.

"I've never thought about it," he said, keeping the disappointment out of his voice. "Flat buttons are probably the easiest to sew with, but Father says shank buttons are almost as easy, and I think they look... What?"

Marinette was laughing at him. "No, your favorite controller button, you goof." She waved one in front of his face. The A button had been taped down. Taking it in both hands again, she mimed playing an intense round. Enthusiasm bubbled off of her. He had no idea what this was about, but he was already on board with whatever it was. (Even if it wasn't kissing.)

"I'm confused." And also in love with you.

It was too late for his confession to be the first thing out of his mouth. His fingers itched to touch her, but she was too excited to let him interrupt.

"See, we're getting too good. We need a new way to push ourselves, so I thought, give ourselves a handicap." She pointed at the incapacitated button. "And go head-to-head. What do you think?"

"I think that's amazing."

As soon as the moment passed, he'd realized what a perfect opportunity he'd missed. Marinette was scrambling across her room to tape down the B on his controller. "You're," he whispered, too quiet for her to hear. "I think you're amazing."

"Catch!" The controller flew, and he caught it deftly. Marinette flopped onto the chaise, leaning sideways against the cushioned back, leaving enough room for him to sit at the end, if he didn't mind her feet poking his thigh, which he definitely did not.

The computer monitor flickered as Marinette scrolled through the settings. Adrien leaned forward as the round began, trying to ignore the way her toes jabbed him when he got a hit on her. It didn't happen very often. The handicap was almost impossible to play with. Marinette won every round easily. At the end of the fourth round, she covered a fake yawn and stretched lazily, and he finally realized something important.

"You practiced this beforehand, you dirty cheater!"

Marinette laughed wickedly as his character was knocked out again.

"You're almost as good as I am now, young grasshopper. I've got to maintain my superiority somehow!"

"We both know that isn't true." He swiped for her hands, but she was too fast, moving the controller out of his reach. "Give yourself a second handicap."

"Make me," she said, her feet pushing against him to press herself further into the back of the chaise.

"Give it."

"No."

He leaned over her legs and into her space, but she kept the controller away from him, grinning wildly. Feigning defeat, Adrien leaned back. When Marinette lowered it into her lap, he pounced forward, but she was still too quick, lifting both hands behind her head, hiding it out of sight.

"Hand it over!"

"No!"

He reached, and she leaned back farther, one elbow poking his cheek. Pushing into her, he strained to get the controller, and she arched underneath him to keep it away.

His arms were longer than hers. He should have been able to get it. His fingers found her wrists, and he slid them up to find her fingers.

A warm breath on his cheek made him stop. He was face-to-face with Marinette. He was nearly lying on top of her, pressing her into the chaise. They were both breathing hard, though they'd barely moved. One of her pigtails was loose.

"It's not fair," he said, mouth dry. "You need to make it even."

She lifted her head, until her face filled his vision and their noses touched. "Make me." Her lips brushed his with each word.

He kissed her.

Every longing moment, every loving thought he'd ever had about her poured through him into his kiss. Again and again his lips found hers. Somewhere, a controller clattered to the floor, and then her hands were on him, in his hair, splayed against his neck, pulling him closer, and he kissed her harder, caressing her face, pulling out her loose pigtail so he could feel her soft hair between his fingers.

Kissing a line from the corner of her mouth to ear and back, he asked, "Have I sufficiently dazed you?"

She hummed dreamily in response.

Kissing just below her ear, he asked, "Think you can play like this?"

A whisper. "No."

Taking his time, he worked his way back across her cheek, making sure to kiss every inch until he reached the corner of her lips, but he stopped just shy of them, gently kissing her nose instead. "Good."

Somehow, he managed to pull himself off of her. Marinette clutched at his shirt, trying to get him to come back, but he circled the chaise and retrieved her controller, holding it out to her. He loved the way her fingers hovered over her mouth as her eyes wandered up his arm. When her eyes reached his lips, her fingers pressed down hard, like it was the only way she could stop herself from kissing him again.

"Up for another round?" he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the computer screen.

"Yes, but not of that." She scowled. Half of her hair was loose around her shoulder.

"Let me win this game and you have a deal."

"Never."

"Poor, Marinette," he said, settling down next to her and clicking Start. "No more kisses for you."

Ten seconds into the round and Adrien already knew his plan was going to end badly. His hands were shaking. Marinette's character wobbled. Every time he licked his lips, he could still taste her.

And she had realized that if she rubbed her toes against his hip, he would jump and look over at her. The first time she did it, he was unsure if it had been on purpose, but the second, he turned to find a sly smile waiting for him. This girl was going to drive him crazy.

"I don't think much of your tactics," she said a minute later, as her character finished him off. It had taken three times longer than normal because they were both awful. "You're clearly just as dazed as I am."

"Not nearly enough," he said. Tossing the controller onto the desk, he reached for her waist and slid her into his lap. She came willingly, looping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair.

One of his hands stayed at her waist, the other reached up and pulled her other pigtail loose. "You really do look good like this," he breathed.

"You love me," she giggled. "Admit it."

He leaned forward, forehead resting on hers, eyes locked. "Make me."

"Oh, believe me-" Marinette's voice was a low whisper, and Adrien felt a thrill. "I will."

***

Author’s note: This might just be my new favorite thing I’ve ever written. :) I wrote this in response to a poll I took a zillion years ago. It’s finally here! Thank you @ours-polaires, @khanofallorcs and @actuallycannotflirt for beta’ing this one! I know it was long, and I truly appreciate the help!

@tbehartoo

#adrinette #adrienette #ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #no miraculous au

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steve0discusses · 3 years

Text

S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.”)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he’s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it’s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?’”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

youtube

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.

#yugioh #ygo #yu gi oh #photo recap #recap #episode recap #yugi muto #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #Joey Wheeler #Apdnarg #Grandpa muto #tea gardner #tristan taylor #professor hawkins #and then I ranted about BTS #but please don't quiz me about BTS I know nothing about them aside from the music #I actually thought there were over 12 of them because every time I see them perform it feels like an entire stageplay production of people #like a 101 dalmations situation where every time I saw BTS there were 3 new people #I assumed it was like the Gorrilaz where people just show up and then disappear in a rotation #but no. There's 7 BTS members #that can't be right #there has to be more than 7 #is this a berenstein bears situation?#how is there only 7?#I swear there used to be like 16 #and they would be introduced like here's jimin and Jungkook and red and yellow and green and brown and scarlet and black and ochre and pea #like is google seriously telling me there's only 7 kids in this band?#this is the biggest scam google has ever played on me #this weird alternate timeline that not only has an epidemic but also only 7 members of BTS

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years

Text

And we’re back for the second chapter, which is a lot shorter than the last - only half the size, thank goodness. I have a feeling this will go by somewhat faster than the first chapter, if only because there’s so much less happening per chapter and less worldbuilding to pick at.

Being up to forty followers already is actually really neat - I was expecting this project to go under the radar a bit longer. Thank you for all the likes and comments, and especially the reblogs!

[No. 2 - Roaring Muscles]

Have to admit that the title page is definitely something - it’s deliberately styled in the same format as Western comic book covers. And in so, you can really see the difference in art style between the Westernized All Might and Horikoshi’s normal style for Izuku.

The next page is a full body shot of All Might posing (RIP all the pens that died inking that one image), with some background panels covering the basics about the man - that his age and quirk are unknown, and that his strength has made him popular even since his debut. He’s got a lot of merch, branding, magazine covers, newspaper headlines, movie adaptations, etc etc. and, of course, that creepy fucking mask.

If Izuku has one of those, I am both disappointed and completely not surprised. I both look forward to and dread the day someone draws him wearing that monstrosity. Also-

Is that the same keychain Ochako gets during the Secret Santa swap in some hundred and twenty or so chapters?

Alright, not the same one, but a similar pose. Not surprising, since I doubt Hori even remembered this panel at the point Ochako was given it, but it would have been an interesting little callback if it had been.

Moving on, we learn that since he became active, there’s been a notable decrease in the appearance rate of villains - with a graph showing the decline. His existence alone is a deterrent to villainy, which in no way will cause issues decades down the line. But yeah, basically Izuku confirms that All Might’s earned his title of ‘Symbol of Peace’ - and that the same man with so many accolades just told him he could be a hero.

(That last panel, of just Toshinori and Izuku, which is so uncluttered compared to the other panels… mmm, gotta love it. Makes it feel so much more poignant and dreamlike, which it probably was to Izuku at the time.)

The next page gets right to where we left off, with Izuku on the ground crying his eyes out while his mind plays through all the doubts and negative words thrown at him over the past chapter years. However, he’s finally heard what he’s always wanted to hear from this Alolan Exeggutor lookin’ dude:

Who also happens to be the No. 1 hero and Izuku’s idol. Izuku wonders if he could wish for anything more than that, so of course, Exeg- I mean Toshinori continues on, saying Izuku is worthy of inheriting his power. Which snaps Izuku out of his happy crying to actually look up at his idol, confused as heck.

BABEY.

But yeah, Toshinori laughs at Izuku’s expression and says that it’s a proposal, and that there’s work to be done. Also, this is the first instance of ‘my boy’ shown in the manga - while I know in Japanese it’s supposed to be just a translation of ‘young man’ or something close, I choose to see it in a different manner, as per my Dad Might agenda:

Look, you have to admit things went from 0 to 100 real fucking fast here, I will not take criticism on my interpretation. While we’re on the topic of ‘0 to 100’:

Toshinori please get that checked that’s a lot of blood jesus fuck. But yeah, he offers Izuku his power (which outside a shounen manga is questionable, kids, don’t trust that.) Izuku is still confused, naturally, so Toshinori clarifies he means his quirk. He explains how the tabloids like to guess what his quirk is, while he avoids answering with jokes, because All Might has to come off as a natural born hero.

(Also that dramatic posing, he’s such a fucking loser, I love him so much.)

You can really fucking tell he’s a performer at heart. I feel like it fits with his love of movies too - he probably liked acting out the dramatic hero speeches and fights in old superhero movies. Which I mean, also makes sense since heroes in the current era are as much actors and performers as they are public servants who handle crime and disasters.

Toshinori explains his quirk was passed down to him like the Olympic torch, which Izuku mentally stumbles over, and when that is confirmed, Izuku falls into a dazed rambling over this, completely tuning out of the outside world; he thinks about all the previous theories put out there, then basically confirming that his power being passed on is nothing anyone has ever considered, in part because there’s so little known about quirks, and even the reason ‘quirk’ [which in Japanese is ‘Individuality’] is used, because they’re unique to the person who wields said power.

(Also, I want to know what the other six mysteries of the world are, Izuku. Why won’t you share that important tidbit with us? Worry about the quirk later!)

Toshinori cuts into his rambling, asking if Izuku really doubts him and that it’s nonsense, he has secrets but he doesn’t outright lie. Izuku does snap out and try to apologize, but Toshinori continues on:

One For All. Certainly a power that comes with no downsides, hidden legacies, or enough mysteries to fill the other six damned slots of the mysteries of the world. Izuku repeats the name slowly, and Toshinori goes on to explain it:

A small detail to note, there’s eight lights in the background, already revealing how many holders there currently are at this point. Notice how much weaker OFA must have been back at the beginning, compared to the power Toshinori has, and then expand that to what Izuku starts out with. And interestingly, it’s called a ‘crystalline network of power’, and that it ‘links those crying out to be saved and those with brave and true hearts.’ For our first description of OFA, it… sure seems poetic and almost romantic. Wonder if that will hold up in the chapters to come.

Anyways, moving on from that, Izuku asks why him, and Toshinori says he’s been looking for a successor, and that he believes Izuku worthy. Even as someone who is quirkless and a ‘mere hero admirer’, he was more heroic than anyone else there. Izuku tears up again, and Toshinori slaps himself in the forehead, saying it all depends on what Izuku says.

Izuku gets to his feet and rubs away the tears, thinking about what he’s been told and how Toshinori’s greatest secrets (hah) have been divulged to him. He asks himself if he has reason to refuse, and immediately decides that no, he doesn’t, and tells Toshinori he accepts while reaffirming he’s got no reason to refuse. Toshinori says he expected nothing less than that quick answer.

Seriously, look at the intensity of that reply, he is down and willing to do this. No second guessing, no hesitation.

This seems like a good stopping point, since the second half of the chapter is all the training, including the montages, so I’ll finish things up in the next one (yes, I know, not taking five posts to get to the point, who would have thought?) and we can get into the crazy fun stuff.

#chapter 2 #opening arcs #readthrough #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #yagi toshinori #midoriya izuku #ofa afo #figures I should tag that since this is the first mention of what it's all about #we'll see how that explanation gets built on later #also no hesitation at all #Izuku is READY for that quirk #which makes sense when he wants to be 'the strongest hero... like All Might'

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dragonhrte · 4 years

Text

Destiny? Chapter Nine: Where To

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for giving this work a read! Quick disclaimer, for all intents and purposes MHA/BNHA are not mine they do not belong to me. The manga and anime have inspired me to write this fiction and dialogue as well as events are given credit to the beautiful people who have blessed us with this series. Aside from standard story line events this work is mine. Don't forget to comment and heart! This story references events from previous chapters, if something does not make sense, feel free to reread from the beginning. I want this work to be as canon as possible! I want to give my readers a heads up that the next semester is coming up and I will probably have to pull back on the frequency that I post new chapters. There's also another story that I have in the works so be on the look out for that!

Please note that

*abc* is a sound effect

'abc' is internal thoughts of whomever

"abc" is dialogue

(abc) is a side note from yours truly ;)

~Love, DragonHearte

I'm sitting down at my desk waiting for homeroom to start after our impromptu three day weekend, hearing the various conversations going on around me from my fellow classmates, but not really listening to anything that they're saying specifically. Suddenly, Ida runs from his seat to the front of the room and exclaims, "Everyone, homeroom is about to start! Stop talking and get to your seats!" I look around the room and chuckle, 'The only one out of their seat right now is you Ida.'

As if he heard my thoughts Sero says, "Dude, you're literally the only one standing up..."

Ida zooms to his desk just as the door to the classroom slides open to reveal, Mr. Aizawa, face covered in bandages with small holes for his eyes and both of his arms in slings walking into the room.

"Mr.Aizawa?!" Myself and my classmates exclaimed.

"You're back way too early, pro-heroes are seriously hardcore." Kaminari says with a fearful look on his face.

Ida stands up while raising his hand and says, "On behalf of my classmates and I, I would like to say, we are glad to see you are doing well."

"Is it really safe to say that he's 'doing well'?" I mutter under my breath. 'I can't believe he showed up to class after all those injuries.'

"My injuries aren't the primary focus here. There's a more pressing matter at hand, because your fight is far from over." Mr. Aizawa says, his voice slightly muffled by the bandages covering his mouth.

"Our fight?" Bakugo questions in a raised tone of voice.

"Don't tell me..." Midoriya starts.

"More Villains?!" Mineta exclaims trembling in his chair.

"No nothing like that, it's the matter of the U.A's Sports Festival coming up soon!" Mr. Aizawa declared.

"That's such a normal school activity!" My classmates and myself shout in relief, at hearing such a mundane event.

“Wait a second, is it a good idea right after a villain attack?” Jirou, a girl with a punk rock type bob asks.

“Well, the idea is to showcase U.A’s capability of crisis management, that the school is safe despite the recent attack. The higher ups are trying to deter any doubt of their competence.That’s exactly why we should. We have to show U.A. can deal with a crisis properly. Also there will be five times the normal security measures in place. Our sports festival is the best chance you’ll get, and it won’t get cancelled over a few villains.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mineta says with worry apparent on his face.

“Mineta have you seriously never seen U.A.’s sports festival before?” Deku turns his head to look in disbelief.

“Of course I have. I didn’t mean that I’ve never seen it before!” Mineta exclaims frantically trying to explain himself.

‘I’ve heard of the U.A. sports festival, but I haven’t actually watched it before…’ I frown at the realization, and then hear Mr. Aizawa continue talking, “The U.A. sports festival is equivalent to what the Olympics used to be in their former glory, as far as Japan is concerned.”

“The top heroes of the nation will be watching right?” Mineta frets over this particular bit of information.

“Yes, they’re acting as scouts.” Yaoyorozu replies.

“They’ll scout us as potential future sidekicks for after we graduate.” Kaminari adds.

“Yeah, but a lot of those sidekicks never go solo. They’re stuck as sidekicks forever, you’ll probably be one of them you dunce.” Jirou retorts.

“Getting picked by a big-name hero means an important boost in popularity, you’ll also acquire valuable experience. Your time is limited so making an impression now will help pave the way towards your futures as heroes. This is an annual event, so overall you’ve got three shots, make them count.”

Modern Lit is over and everyone’s abuzz about the upcoming sports festival, they’re lingering in the classroom discussing how the results will affect their careers as pros. It’s a completely different energy than the residual worry over the recent villain attack. The excitement is contagious and I feel myself getting a bit giddy as well, ‘I’m actually a bit excited, I wonder how similar the sports festival is to the Olympics…’ I glance at the rest of my classmates that are still conversing with one another and walk over to Ashido, before I can say anything to her, Ashido says, “Uraraka, what’s up you look a bit different?”

Mineta looks over at Uraraka who has a manic expression on her face, brows drawn together, mouth spread into a too-wide smile and eyes touched with a tad too much determination. “Is she on her-” Mineta doesn’t get the rest of his sentence out before Tsuyu slaps him across the face with her abnormally long tongue.

“Just to let everyone know, I’m gonna frickin’ crush this!” Uraraka exclaims with an enthusiastic fist pump into the air.

“I’m sure you will, I’m just a bit worried about your rapid change in demeanor...” Kirishima says muttering the second-half of his statement to himself with a less enthusiastic fist pump.

I chuckle and widen my eyes at the slight rumble from my stomach. ‘Okay, okay…’ I think as I walk out the door of the classroom.

I have already been eating for a few minutes by myself before Kirishima places his tray of food down next to me. I look up and smile when I see the other members of our group approaching the table as well. Kaminari and Sero are already engrossed in a conversation when they arrive at the table, sitting across from Kirishima and me. Ashido skips over to the table, a smile on her face and plops down next to me.

“I’m glad we got the chance to hang out on Friday.” Ashido says.

“Yeah, I am too.” I reply.

Kirishima pipes up and says, “I saw the pictures you posted on social media, Ashido, they were nice.”

I turn my head and give Ashido a questioning look. She smiles at me while pulling out her phone and showing me the post. I laugh when she swipes to view the silly picture we took, the whipped cream, white and fluffy, above my lips. “Can you tag me?” I ask and then she nods, and edits the photo for me to insert my social media handle into. The conversation continues and has a light-hearted feel to it, everyone else has shared what they did on friday for their break when Kirishima asks Bakugo, “Hey man, what did you do for your day off?”

Bakugo huffs, and says, “I trained, and did homework, obviously I’m not gonna slack off just because we don’t have school.” as he says this, his eyes flit to mine in a side-glare and I feel my eye twitch at the slight jab and the slight pulse of warmth at my hip, but before I can say anything Ashido wraps an arm around me squeezing me gently and says, “Well, some of us need a bit R&R after something like that.” I mirror her actions and add, “Some of us need a break from the same mundane routine everyday.” I feel a moment of triumph when his expression sours, ‘Do you feel it too?’ I think to myself, of the fading warmth at my hip.

I’ve just sat down at the table after throwing my garbage away and putting my tray on the designated cleaning station when the bell rings, signaling the end of the lunch period. The remainder of the day passes by without much excitement, ‘Honestly I think even after that day off I’m still feeling a bit out of sorts. Hopefully this uneasy feeling will fade with a few more days of routine training.’ I think to myself as I pack up my backpack to head home after the last period of the day. On my way towards the entrance of the school I spot Ashido and Kirishima, I jog up to them and ask, “Hey, mind if I walk with you guys?”

Kirishima turns to me his sharp pearly whites on display with his ever-present smile and says, “Nope.”

“Good” I reply and we walk together Kirishima talking about how pumped he is for the sports festival and Ashido joining in with her expressive gestures. After walking together for a couple of minutes Kirishima starts to slow his pace and says, “This is where I head off, I’ll see you tomorrow.” he gives a short wave as he turns and walks away. Ashido and I continue walking and talking the rest of the way until we both start to slow down, “You already know that I have to go home this way.” I motion down the street in the direction of my apartment with a slight chuckle and start walking away when Ashido shouts, “Hey, is it okay if I add you to the group chat?”

I stop, turn around and answer back, “Sure I don’t see why not. Bye Ashido!”

“Bye Evangeline!” She exclaims waving her arms in parting, I turn back around and jog the rest of the way to the apartment, wanting to get my homework done quickly.

I open the door to the apartment taking my shoes off and pad into my room, and drop my backpack on the floor next to my desk. I take off my uniform, changing into something more casual and putting the uniform into the hamper. I unlock my phone and see that I’ve gotten quite a number of notifications. I check my messages and see that Max texted me, I look at that one first.

Max: “So… I’m going out with some of my coworkers tonight, they’re complaining that I don’t hang out with them enough. There’s some cash, in the usual spot behind the knife rack, that you can use to order out…”

I quickly type out my response,

Me: “Okay, thank you and enjoy!”

I open up the other message and see Ashido’s number listed among other unknown ones. ‘Must be the group chat.’ there’s a barrage of messages popping up on the screen I put my phone down and take out my homework for the day. It’s taking me a bit longer than usual because my phone notifications keep alerting me of another text message, the first time it’s from Max in response to my previous message. However, the rest are all from the group chat. ‘I don’t want to turn the ringer off, because Max might need to get a hold of me, but I can’t figure out a way to stop the incessant noises coming from my phone.’ After a few minutes of this continued internal struggle I decide, ‘You know what?! I’ll just put it on vibrate! It’ll be less distracting, and I can still be available in case Max wants to contact me.’ my homework attempts are going much better now. Yes, there is the constant vibration of my phone, but a quick glance at the screen showing the group chat and not Max lets me resume my studies in some semblance of peace. I finally finish my homework and walk into the kitchen moving the knife rack, removing the cash, and put my jacket on, and grab my house key. ‘I saw a ramen shop on my way to school the other day. Maybe someone in the group chat knows of a good one.’ I open up the chat and type out my question.

Me: “Hey, I was wondering if anyone can recommend a good ramen shop near the school?”

Ashido: “I’m not sure exactly which one to recommend , maybe someone else knows. Oh, can everyone introduce themselves before texting real quick, so that Evangeline can know who you are.”

0XX-XXX-XXXX: “This is Kirishima I like the one we passed by while we were walking this afternoon, before I turned off.”

0X-XXXX-XXXX: “Sero here, um I think I know which one you’re talking about it should be called The Ramen Shop…”

(I made the shop name up if there is an actual ramen shop that’s named this, it’s merely a coincidence.)

0X-XXXX-XXXX: “Sup, this is Kaminari, there’s a place I know called Cup o’ Noods, it’s really good too.”

I quickly add the unknown numbers to my contact list. There was one more unknown number that was not claimed, ‘That must be Bakugo’s number…’ I go back to the group chat and view the new messages.

Sero: “Kaminari, seriously dude?”

Kirishima: “Kaminari that’s not very manly...😤”

Kaminari: “It’s a legit ramen shop I swear!”

Ashido: “Mhmm. Yeah, right. Anyways, I hope we were of some help Evangeline.”

Me: “Yep, thanks see you guys tomorrow.”

I close the chat and put my shoes on before walking out the door, locking it behind me. The air has a bit of a chill to it as I leave the stairwell of the apartment complex. Walking at a brisk pace taking the familiar path towards school. I slow down as I come to the intersection where Kirishima had branched off. ‘The Ramen Shop should be somewhere near here.’ I sniff the air, a delicious aroma meeting my nose and I search for the source. I read the shop name listed above the door, “The Ramen Shop” and hurry to the door. Smiling to myself at having found my destination I open the door and walk in, the cozy atmosphere enveloping me immediately. I breathe in all the different aromas and feel my mouth water. ‘It smells so good, I can’t wait to see if it tastes as good as it smells.’ Looking around I notice the shop is basically full except for a sparse peppering of empty chairs at the counter. I look up at the menu, the vast variety of options listed above me, and then walk up to the counter give them my order, and pay. I sit down in one of the unoccupied chairs and scroll through my social media while waiting for my order to be ready.

The man from behind the counter calls my name and I stand up, getting my ramen and sitting down at my chosen booth. I take a quick picture and send it to the group chat.

Me: “I found the place. Thank you!”

Kirishima: “Damn, that looks so good. I’m a bit jealous.”

Sero: “Same man.”

Kaminari: “🤤”

I put my phone down and dig in, the food does not disappoint. The hot moist noodles contrast with the slightly crisp vegetable slices all in a savory broth that takes me away and before I know it I have a clean bowl. By the time I finish I have a clean bowl and a stomach that feels as though it’s about to burst but it’s all worth it. I scooch out of the booth and make my way back home. The warmth from my meal keeps me toasty the whole way to the apartment. I unlock the door and slip my shoes off. I walk to the shelf that has the rainy day jar and put the change from tonight inside.

After a quick shower and changing into pajamas I nestle into the covers tired from the excitement of today.

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ashrelfury · 5 years

Note

(1/2) If you're still taking prompts, I'd like if you could write something about Andrew really jealous; it's like, since the Andreil is living together (maybe post-canon), Andrew took a liking (not that he's going to admit anytime soon) for carrying Neil, lifting him off the ground and putting his arms around the redhead.

Just Don’t: Part One (Yeah, you read that right. It’s in two parts, baby. Look forward to it!)

It started the day they won the Olympic Gold.

A promise he’d made in passing that he now had to allow Neil to cash on.

“If we win, can I hug you? Yes or no?”

Andrew scoffed, “If we win, I’ll pick you up and spin you around.”

And they did win. Which opened a door Andrew wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted opened. He never noticed before how very light Neil was. There was muscle in that lithe body, but it didn’t really lend much to contribute to his weight. No wonder the idiot was taken down so easily when someone actually managed to get a hit on him.

When the final buzzer sounded, and the US Court was up by 2, Andrew knew it was coming. He looked out into the court and saw the wet dark red hair, already plastered to the idiot’s face with sweat and his helmet, and that blinding grin that made his icy blue eyes shine like the sun had hit them just right to brighten them up from the inside.

Ignoring everyone around him, all who were trying to get his attention because of course it had been Neil who scored the last goal of the game, Neil dropped his racket right there on the floor and took off in Andrew’s direction, full tilt.

Andrew had a few moments to let go of his own racket, take off the bulky goalie gloves, and brace his feet under him, before a 5′3, 128lb man came barreling into him like he’d been shot from a cannon.

The momentum would have thrown Andrew off his feet, but just as he promised, he’d used nearly all of it to swing Neil in a few circles.

There was laughter in his ears, arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, and brightness trapped in his chest.

He was tired, the game wasn’t easy and everything hurt and he needed to lay the fuck down, but he didn’t think he would have put Neil down right then for any deal or promise in the world.

That’s when it started really.

Since that incident, something that, unbeknownst to both men, had been caught on camera for all the world to see; Andrew had picked up the strange habit of... well... picking Neil up.

It was always at random to get the best reaction possible. Sometimes there was a laugh. Others it was the yelp of surprise. And rarely, very rarely, there was the kiss.

When Andrew wrapped his arms around Neil and lifted him off the ground, it was a yes. Andrew had already told the idiot that. And it worked for these moments. Moments where Andrew felt soft, felt gentle and wanted to show it.

He’d grab Neil by the small of his back, sweep his feet out from under him, and hold him like those movies. The Princess Carry, Nicky had called it when he’d seen Andrew do it during their visit to Germany for the wedding. Andrew didn’t care what it was called, it was a protective hold and it felt good to have Neil’s arms wrap around his neck and then lips met his own and it was as close to coming home as anything had ever felt.

The yelp of surprise always came when Andrew grabbed him from behind. Not that Andrew really understood why, he always gave warning. A noise or something to let the idiot know who it was and that he would be safe. He knew that they both still had issues with someone coming up behind them, but years of relative safety had made them lose a lot of their formidable edge. Andrew didn’t mind the mock-surprise though, because Neil always smiled afterwards.

Yet, it was the laugh that tore him up inside.

The laugh happened when he picked Neil up to end an argument or to annoy him. It never accomplished either, but it always made Neil laugh. They would be facing each other, Andrew reaching for knives that were no longer there as an instinct he just couldn’t curb, and when he noticed what he’d done, he’d growl and advance.

His arms would go around Neil’s waist, and as if on reflex, Neil’s arms would encircle his shoulders. As soon as Neil’s feet were off the ground, Andrew would spin him, shake him, twirl him around. Aggression without being aggressive. No matter what had led to it though, it always made Neil laugh. It cracked him open in moments and any anger, or fear, or anything that had been there before was overridden like a rejected program.

It was one of the things that came so very close to making Andrew smile.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

Because someone else was holding Neil in their arms.

Someone else had rushed to Neil, wrapped him up, and plucked him right off the floor.

Someone else was making Neil produce that laugh that belonged to Andrew.

He didn’t want to smile. He didn’t want to even think about smiling. He wanted his knives and a new place to bury a body because the building downtown had finally finished being built and he couldn’t just throw the asshole into the wet cement like he’d been planning to do.

It only lasted a heartbeat.

Neil was picked up. Neil laughed. Neil started pushing, Neil was let go. But it was long enough.

Something like acid was burning Andrew’s tongue, his usual bouts of anger suddenly doubled, no tripled without warning. His throat closed up around the intense emotion and his stomach clenched in something close to fear. Too close. Uncomfortably close.

He didn’t stay to see what else happened, he turned and walked away.

Fuck, if he saw anyone, even fucking Josten, he was going to start swinging and asking questions never.

He needed a moment. Needed to calm down.

He needed Bee.

It’s not like this was new. He’d felt jealousy before. It was fucking hard not to when you were dating someone pretty and mysterious, and dense. Usually though, it wasn’t bad and it didn’t last long. Neil always noticed and was always so quick to reassure.

Now though, he was in the arms of another one of their teammates. Another person was picking Neil up, but this time there was no laugh.

Andrew could hear protest and he stopped in his tracks. Half way out of the court.

“Seriously, Collins, let me go!” Neil’s voice was calling.

Andrew turned back around, and took the scene in.

Collins and Peterson were standing facing each other, and between them, Neil. Collins had his upper body, Peterson his legs. They were going to throw him and Andrew saw it now.

Panic.

Blind, paralyzing panic.

Neil started to struggle.

“Fuck, Josten! Come on! You let Minyard pick you up.” Collins argued, struggling to keep his grip on Neil. His fingers digging into muscle.

Andrew saw Neil’s mouth open, ready to scream or curse, or... it didn’t matter.

Andrew was there.

Without a fucking word, Andrew rushed the two man hanging onto what was his. His fist struck the back of Collin’s knee and it buckled, the bigger man going down so fast, his grip on Neil faltered, but Andrew was there, catching the red-head’s upper body even as his leg kicked out at Peterson.

“Fuck! Minyard you crazy shit!” Peterson yelled.

Andrew didn’t care.

One second Neil’s stiff body was in his arms, then he was on his feet. Andrew’s back to him, protecting him. This is what he was here for, this is what he did better than anything else in the world. Protect. Keep safe.

Protect.

“You should have let him go.” Andrew said. Voice low.

No knives, he didn’t have a weapon, but he had his fists. It would be enough.

He raised them, ready to move in, but a hand laid itself against his upper back. Neil.

“Andrew. Don’t.”

Andrew didn’t.

He didn’t because Neil needed him not to.

Collins picked himself up, confusion and anger on his face. “What the hell was that for, Minyard.”

There was threat there, but Andrew wasn’t going to fall for it.

“You should have let him go.” Andrew said again. “Don’t touch people without their permission.”

“Fuck, man. I was congratulating him.” Peterson complained.

“You grabbed a man with PTSD and wanted to swing him around by his arms and legs.” Andrew pointed out.

That got the two bigger man to pause.

They knew Neil’s story. Everybody did, even to this day, the news still probed at what had happened to The Butcher of Baltimore. What happened to cause Nathaniel Wesninski’s scars. What happened to cause ‘Neil Josten’.

“What, you’re fucking jealous? We can’t touch your man?” Peterson sneered, but stopped when Collins put a hand on his arm. “What the fuck?”

“Dude. Don’t. He’s got a point.” Collins said, sympathy on his face. Andrew hated that look.

“Don’t give me that. We weren’t doing anything.”

Neil’s hand rested gently on Andrew’s shoulder, but Andrew had already made up his mind to speak.

“Yeah. I was jealous. Stay the fuck away from him.” Andrew’s glare was menacing, his reputation more than enough to keep most people away.

Not Peterson though.

He was just lucky Collins was his friend. Anyone else would have just let what happens happen.

Instead, as Peterson opened his mouth to speak, Collins’ hand covered it.

“Alright. It’s alright, Minyard. I get it. We’re fine. Come on, man. Let’s go.”

As Collins pulled Peterson away protesting, Andrew’s shoulders finally relaxed.

“So... you were jealous?”

Neil’s lilting voice teased at Andrew, but Andrew wasn’t about to feel shame or regret. He’d done away with those useless things a long time ago.

“Yes.” Still, just because he could admit to it, didn’t mean he was going to explain why. Not that he needed to. Neil didn’t even ask.

“Okay. Come on, I know we still have some ice cream left at home and Sir and King probably got into our room again.”

When Neil reached out, a question in his touch, Andrew’s finger intertwined with his in answer.

It wouldn’t be the first time he got jealous.

Fuck, next time they saw Boyd, the asshole will probably pull the same shit Peterson did, only Neil would react better to Boyd than he did to the two assholes.

Andrew sighed, almost resigning himself to it now that the idea popped into his head.

Hell, maybe he’d get to pop Boyd in the jaw. It’s been a while since he did that.

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omggiogiothings · 6 years

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Would you do 8 for Sheith please? (L)

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junker-town · 4 years

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What to watch at the U.S. Olympic marathon trials

Des Linden is trying to become the first woman to make three U.S. Olympic marathon teams. | Photo credit should read RYAN MCBRIDE/AFP via Getty Images

With three Olympic spots up for grabs, both the men’s and women’s race are set for high drama in Atlanta.

Every four years, elite marathon runners in the United States gather for a one-shot race to earn one of three spots apiece on the men’s and women’s Olympic teams. On Saturday in Atlanta, more than 700 of the fastest marathoners in the country will take aim at one of those coveted berths.

Not every country has a trial race. In fact, most have committees that simply pick qualified runners and send them to the Games. The U.S. race is a uniquely democratic competition in a sport filled with stifling bureaucracy.

For a time there was some concern about whether the American way of doing things would survive a change in Olympic guidelines established by the International Association of Athletics Federation. However, in July, the IAAF announced the American trials would serve as a “Gold Standard” event. Translation: the Americans could keep their qualifying race.

Running has lots of rules and governing bodies, many of them arcane and arbitrary. But in Atlanta, things will be much simpler. The top three male and female finishers earn a spot on the Olympic team. Of course, just earning the right to race is a major accomplishment.

To qualify, male runners need to clock a sub-2:15 marathon. That’s the “A Standard,” which is the top tier. The “B Standard” allows runners who ran 2:15-2:19 to gain a spot in the field. Additionally, runners who knocked out a half marathon in 64 minutes or less also qualified.

For women, the A Standard is a 2:37 marathon with B Standards coming in at sub-2:45, or less than 73 minutes in the half. By any standard, these are some seriously fast people who have earned the opportunity to run the race of their life.

Here’s who, and what, to watch for Saturday.

The shoes

For the whole history of the marathon, from Pheidippides to Haile Gebrselassie, the 2-hour marathon seemed an insurmountable barrier. Then in October, Eliud Kipchoge ran into history wearing gaudy neon shoes called Alphaflys. They were an updated prototype of Nike’s Vaporfly, the shoe that has led to an astonishing string of record-breaking performances.

Kipchoge had previously set the official marathon record of 2:01.39 in a version of the Vaporfly and Brigid Koseigi was wearing Vaporflys when she shattered the women’s mark that had stood for 16 years by a staggering 81 seconds with a 2:14.04 marathon in Chicago.

Independent research has shown the shoe delivers a measurable boost in performance, which gets to the heart of a major philosophical argument in running circles: Is technologically-enhanced performance worth the price of competition?

There are parallels between the fast kicks and those full-length bodysuits swimmers wore in the 2008 Olympics when they smashed records. Those suits were subsequently banned and there was some thought the shoes would come by the same fate.

However, the shoes were deemed legal for competition in January when World Athletics, track’s governing body, released what it called modified rules that placed limits on stack heights (40 millimeters) and embed plates. This gets very nerdy, but those limits just so happened to closely mirror the Alphafly’s specs.

The ruling, not surprisingly, sparked controversy. In a long, fascinating post, the sports scientist Ross Tucker wrote:

The failure to regulate “super shoes” hurts running. It undermines one of the sport’s most valuable qualities, namely that the outcome, the title, the victory, goes to the athlete whose physiology is optimized through training and genetics, then enabled by tactics, to cross the finish line first.

Is it the shoes or the runner that make the race? The marathon trials will offer clues.

The women’s race is wide open

In 2016, only 198 female runners qualified to run in the Olympic trials. This year, there are more than 500 competitors. You’d be hard-pressed to find a favorite in the crowded women’s field where more than a half-dozen runners could claim that mantle.

Among them: Des Linden, best known for surviving dreadful conditions in 2018 to be the first American to win Boston in 33 years. Linden is also trying to become the first U.S. woman to make three Olympic marathon teams. She’ll have competition from Sara Hall, whose relentless schedule is the stuff of legend.

The accomplished Molly Huddle, owner of 28 national titles and American records in the 10,000 meters and half marathon, seems poised to record a breakthrough marathon. Her training partner and fellow Providence Friar, Emily Sisson, ran a sizzling 2:23 in London in her first marathon.

It wouldn’t surprise anyone if Jordan Hasay, Amy Cragg, or Kellyn Taylor earned spots. Emma Bates, who lives off the grid in Idaho, is an inspiration for runners who would rather be nowhere than anywhere in particular.

The elite men

Galen Rupp, one of the country’s greatest distance runners ever, won the trials in 2016 in his first-ever marathon and earned a bronze in Rio. He is considered the favorite despite several setbacks including recovery from Achilles surgery. Rupp was also coached by Alberto Salazar, the disgraced former head of Nike’s Oregon Project who received a four-year ban by the US Anti-Doping agency.

Leonard Korir has only one marathon under his belt, but it was the fastest debut ever by an American: 2:07.56. That was the second-fastest qualifying time behind Rupp.

Another 2016 Olympian, Jared Ward, happens to run for Saucony. He will be an interesting test case for whether the Vaporflys provide an unfair advantage. Ward and friendly rival Scott Fauble dueled at both Boston and New York last season and it would be a treat to watch them battle again for an Olympic spot.

A pair of 40-somethings — Bernard Lagat and Abdi Abdirahman — are sentimental choices for this 40-something runner.

The course

Atlanta offers an interesting layout in two respects. Rather than going point-to-point for 26.2 miles, it’s an eight-mile loop run three times with a finishing kick through Centennial Park. Running loops can be something of a mental challenge, especially if a particular section gives you trouble. You know it’s waiting for you again and again.

Also, there will be hills with 1,389 feet of climb and 1,382 of descent. There isn’t a lot of flat on the Atlanta course, so runners will either be going up or down for the duration.

That’s markedly different than say, Chicago, which is notorious for being flat and fast. Boston, known primarily for the soul-crushing Heartbreak Hill, is actually a downhill course with the climbing back loaded toward the end.

The unique layout of the Atlanta course may benefit one runner in particular ...

The outsider

Jim Walmsley is the closest thing ultrarunning has to a crossover star. He’s torched courses, setting records in 50 miles (4 hours, 50 minutes) and at Western States in back-to-back years, the oldest and most iconic race on the circuit. Walmsley has never run a road marathon, but he qualified for the trials with a 64-minute half in Houston.

Road runners and trail junkies have lots more in common than they’d like to admit, but there’s some goofy tribal battles between the two camps. Obsessed as they are with splits and trying to shave seconds off their times, road runners view ultra runners as weirdo hippie amateurs, while ultrarunners think road warriors should chill and take it down a notch.

Because of his elite speed, Walmsley has the potential to bridge the two worlds. To be sure, it would be a long shot if he made the Olympic team. Still, no one in the field puts in the kind of training he does — 200-mile weeks at altitude with thousands of feet of climbing. In a recent profile in the New York Times, Walmsley offered a quote that sums up the ultrarunner ethos.

“A lot of people train to have their best day ever,” he told the Times. “In ultrarunning, you learn to train for your worst. I’m looking to get to the most painful spot I can.”

Anyone else?

Yes. Shoutout to my friend Brian Harvey who qualified for the trials running a 2:17.50 at Sacramento. A seriously good dude who runs/commutes to work and makes a mean butternut squash risotto, Harvey is the kind of hardcore semi-pro runner who makes this event so unique.

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terribleco · 4 years

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Pip Interview

This interview originally appeared in Hangup Online Zine 11.

I’ve known Phillip Sangster aka Pip for about 7 or 8 years now - back then he was one of those ambi-dextrous little kids who could skate, scoot, BMX and everything in between. Having stuck with skateboarding, he’s turned into one of the raddest skateboarders to come out of Coventry, with a ton of style, tricks done at breakneck speed, and creativity across all terrain. When Hangup messaged me saying they wanted to find out more about what makes Pip tick, I understood why - he’s a chilled out dude who’s easy to get on with, and I am stoked that more people are hyped on what Pip is bringing to skateboarding. With that in mind, I posed some questions to him to give you an insight into the world of Pip.

I’ve always thought of you as one of the Cov lads, but you’re moving out to London soon, right?

Yep.

London’s skate scene is absolutely massive, what areas of London skateboarding are you looking forward to getting involved with?

Well I’ll be I’ll be living in the south east, near New Cross. I’m gonna skate with the Esse London boys a lot. I skated with them quite a lot before, when I used to live in London.

London’s got some great skateparks as well, what are some of your favourites?

Crystal Palace is an amazing place. Probably one of the best skateparks I’ve ever been too. Stockwell’s good, too. I really like Mile End as well, so I’ll probably spend a lot of time there.

You’re always down for a trip - I know you’ve done some extensive bike trips and were out in Paris last year. What’s the gnarliest spot you’ve encountered on your travels?

Wooof… Probably have to say this spot we went to in Barca in 2016, when I went out there with the Keegan twins. It was spot I hadn’t seen anyone skate before, and we went out for a wander in the evening, and just came across this crazy hill bomb. It was just so steep and there was no run off at the bottom, and it just went off into a main road, like a motorway or something. For some reason I decided to try and bomb the hill, and immediately it was way too fast to try and powerslide or anything. I got near the bottom and just got mad speed wobbles, bailed and slid about 10 feet and landed underneath a car.

Any big trips on the horizon?

None planned, but I’m definitely dying to get on one. I really wanna go to Copenhagen, because they have some crazy parks. Europe’s just poppin’ at the minute, loads of great parks around.

Growing up in Coventry you’re probably familiar with just about every spot in the city. What are your favourite places to skate in and around Cov?

As far as skateparks go, Holbrooks Bowl is the best, as everyone knows. I really like Memorial Park Skatepark, aka Covpark, although I’m probably the only one who can say that. Everyone else hates it. Whenever I suggest going there I just get shot down immediately. I think there’s a good vibe down there… it’s just the location, it’s in the sun all the time, really nice surroundings, in a good part of town, and it’s near the city centre.

Any other places you like to skate in Cov?

As far as street spots go, Herbert (The Herbert Art Gallery) is obviously on the list, because that’s where 90% of the skaters in Cov go now. Natwest 5 is a good stair set, it’s just got an ideal run-up and landing.

Cov’s got an abundance of crazy bank spots as well I guess?

Of course, like Boy’s Club Banks and Madge’s Banks. Yeah they’re all good. Really provides if you want all of those different bank spots. You got Walsgrave Fountain as well for some street transition, but I’ve never really skated it properly.

You always seem to have a laugh involving multiple skateboards, or in some cases, combining extra props with skateboards like camping chairs or tyres. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done on a skateboard?

Ooof… The camping chair was pretty good. Definitely up there with the weirdest thing I’ve done with a skateboard. I mounted a camping chair on two skateboards and bombed down the Boys Club Banks on it. Tyres are also really good to skate as well, because the minute you ollie onto them you just bounce straight off, you don’t have to pop off them. I like to skate in ski stance a lot as well, just like riding down banks, trying to skate as fast as you can in ski stance, it’s all good.

Who are some of your favourite pro skateboarders at the minute, and which skateboarders influence you?

My all time favourite is Madars Apse. He’s so creative and he’s not scared to do tricks that aren’t perceived as cool. He doesn’t skate like anyone else. Grant Taylor is also a massive inspiration, because who wouldn’t want to just fly around like him. I used to watch loads of Kevin Romar was when I was younger, I used to have all of his parts downloaded on my iPod. Vincent Huhta is also great, the way he skates is so relaxed, he just skates like he just got out of bed. Like he doesn’t even care, and it just looks hilarious.

Finally, where do you think skateboarding is heading in the next few years? Do you think the Olympics will have a positive or negative effect on skateboarding? Do you think tiny wheels and freestyle will take off? Or do you think things will stay largely the same?

That’s kind of a big question, haha. Honestly, I have no idea. I’m in two minds about the Olympics, because I’m really not down for the whole contest thing. I don’t think it should be taken that seriously, because at the end of the day we’re riding around on a stupid toy. I wouldn’t consider it a sport. But, equally, it puts it out to a wider audience and portrays it in more of a positive light, rather than it being anti-social. It could lead to some many good skateparks and encourage councils to spend money on it. I guess I think skateboarding will split off, into contest skaters and to the hardcore true skaters who are just in it for fun. The divide will probably just get bigger as we get more stuff like the Olympics. So… about the freestyle thing, haha… I think there’ll always be that group of people who are into the mad, tech, flatground tricks and would never touch a ramp. You’ll probably see more people who will skate everything as well. The era of the ATV!

Anyone you want to give a shoutout to?

Shoutout to Ride Coventry, for always supporting me, and supporting Cov in general - the Cov OG’s. Shoutout to Tom from SUAS, as well, for supporting me and just being sick. Shoutout to you, Ade, aka The Terrible Company, as well, another Cov OG. Shoutout to the Herbert crew as well, the Herbert is pretty much the centre of the Cov scene at the minute, it’s the Cov Macba. Shoutout to the guys who took my photos as well, to Nich, Adrian and RB.

#skateboarding interview coventry #interview

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evenstevensranked · 7 years

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#31: Season 1, Episode 2 - “Stevens Genes”

Louis makes the track team! Not only that, he’s poised to be the new star runner! The only problem is that Louis runs as slow as a sloth. Sound confusing? Well, it’s all part of Larry Beale’s plan to set him up for failure and humiliation.

It’s only the second episode of the entire series and things are already starting to pick up amazingly. This episode is packed with memorable and quotable lines, many of which I still use to this day. This one continues with the theme established from day one: Louis trying to discover something he’s good at. I love this theme. It makes for some awesome character growth and it works really well here!

It opens with Coach Tugnut rallying up the boys in gym class, announcing that there’s an open spot on the track team. This of course, somehow segues into him worshiping Donnie Stevens and ranting about how much of a legend he is and what an asset he once was to the track team. Well, to every team actually. If Ren is the academic overachiever, Donnie is the athletic overachiever. Tugnut yells at the class army style to turn right and bow their heads. We then get a shot of this giant mural dedicated to Donnie excelling at every sport ever with patriotic music playing in the background. It’s incredible. It also includes one of the greatest unspoken quotes ever:

Donnie needs to give a TED Talk. Stat.

While this Donnie praise is happening, they make a point to show Larry Beale -- who I’m assuming is Coach Tugnut’s assistant since he’s not in Grade 7, looking visibly disgusted. He mumbles “Donnie Stevens is over. It’s my turn now” to himself. Oh, boy.

They head out to the track to do some timed sprints. Of course, Larry is the one with the stopwatch. Larry’s sort of taunting all the kids trying to motivate them to run faster. When it’s Louis’ turn we get a line that always gets a laugh out of me:

The thought of Louis “running” slow enough to take days to reach point B is great. Gotta love his self-awareness.

To everyone’s surprise, Louis is extremely fast. Even faster than Donnie’s best time. Could this be Louis’ “thing” he’s good at?! Don’t get your hopes up. Larry purposely clocked his time in at 18.25 seconds... which is probably a good 8-10 seconds before Louis actually finished lol. Tugnut is shocked and gives Louis the vacant spot on the team immediately.

Tugnut is totally kissing Louis’ butt now because he thinks he’s carrying on the Stevens Dynasty. Louis is seriously amazed that he’s so fast!! “I always knew you had it in you!!” Tugnut tells him. And then we get yet another line I love:

Legendary save, Tugnut. Legendary save. I literally use this quote whenever the opportunity arises.

Louis starts hanging out with Donnie more to get some sports advice. Donnie suggests the most ridiculous things like putting mousse in your hair for aerodynamic-ness and shaving your legs to run like the wind. Which results in a line you’ve undoubtedly heard: “Donnie, I’m running track -- not modeling pantyhose.”

We see that Ren has been assigned to cover sports for the school newspaper. She discovers that Louis made the track team, and is immediately suspicious. I’d be too, tbh. I mean, this is the same kid who gets cramped up and winded just from tying his shoes. Louis is pretty excited about this new-found talent, though. He’s finally starting to feel like a true member of the Stevens family. Naturally, this goes to his head and he’s already dreaming of becoming a multimillionaire Olympic athlete:

Do athletes just stand in the middle of a packed arena and get handed giant checks for 40 mil? Like... is that a thing? Not to mention, the check is from “Hoop Stars” and clearly shows a basketball player logo. Okay.

Around this point, we start to see Louis succumbing to peer pressure a bit. This happens a few more times throughout the series. Yet another symptom of desperately wanting to fit into his family. He ditches Tawny and Twitty at lunch to hang out with Larry and the popular jocks.

Larry is so fake. Louis is so pure. I’m so sad.

Ren stops by to get a quote from Louis about the big meet against Rockport and he gives the most awkwardly ridiculous and overdramatic statement. That patriotic music we heard earlier kicks in again. It’s great. The cherry on top is when he mispronounces Rockport “Rock-a-por.”

Later that day before practice, Louis takes Donnie’s mousse advice a little too far:

You’ve probably seen gifs from this scene. (Especially the gif version of the photo I chose for the cover picture.)

He shows up to practice feelin’ all suave with his moussed-to-death hair. There’s a “Staying Alive” knock-off playing as he walks towards the track. I actually love that this show basically never got the rights to use the legitimate songs. It sort of makes everything funnier, imo. That, and Disney Channel is cheap apparently and don’t permanently pay for the rights to popular songs. Dunno if I mentioned this before, but Lizzie McGuire was pretty much the channel’s most popular show and was super trendy/caught up in Early 00′s pop culture. Therefore, that show used SO MANY official songs. 16 years later, almost all of those songs are missing in the reruns and replaced with terrible stock music. An iconic scene like the “Us Against The World” music video is not nearly as impactful or nostalgic because they’re dancing to generic techno music now. It SUCKS. So, thank god Even Stevens never used any. Their stock music sort of works subconsciously. The song used here is totally not “Staying Alive” -- but it’s juuust close enough that it triggers your brain and you remember it as “Staying Alive.” Kinda cool.

Side note: It’s so difficult to not quote almost every line of this episode. There are so many good ones, I have to keep stopping myself from typing out a freaking transcript.

Anyway, Ren observes Louis and Larry practicing and it’s crystal clear that Larry is holding back for whatever reason.

Be a little less obvious, Larry. Also, sorry for all the gifs. I can’t help myself.

Ren puts the pieces together and figures out what Larry is up to. His plan is to set Louis up to fail big time at the meet. That way when he beats Louis, he’ll be able to gloat about beating “the fastest Stevens of all!” Makes sense. Ren tries telling Louis, but of course, he doesn’t believe her........ WE GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN ONE EPISODE LATER IN WHAT’LL IDOL DO, JUST REVERSED. God. Siblings not believing each other drives me insaaaane. I understand where Louis’ unwillingness to believe is coming from though. He insists that Larry is Ren’s enemy, not his, and he’s just so excited to finally have something to be good at. It breaks my heart.

Ren later apologizes and tells Louis that she’s proud of him. Louis rants again about everyone in the family having their “thing” and now that he’s found his he’s not gonna let anyone take it away. But, Ren tells him “You HAVE your thing. You’re... funny.” *Cue the emotional piano. Literally.* You can tell those words really mean a lot to him.

We’ve made it to the big track meet. Coach Tugnut gives the guys possibly the greatest motivational words ever: “Remember, it’s not whether you win or lose -- as long as you come in first.” Perfect. There’s also a great bit here where Donnie is stretching Louis’ leg and asks him when the last time he stretched was. Louis is clearly in pain and says “I don’t have a schedule with me right now... but if I were to guess..... uhh.... NEVER?!” - This is so me. I’ve also used that quote before.

We learn that Louis’ main rival is some dude Trevor Dunn. As the runners take off, both Trevor and Larry dramatically fall halfway to the finish line. Victory is within Louis’ reach... If he just keeps running, he’ll totally win! But what does he do?! He runs over to help them instead. The sucky thing is, Larry faked his injury and pulls Louis to the ground like “lol got ya” and wins the race. Louis stays behind and comforts Trevor, who has an actual sprained ankle. What a sweetheart. Louis is cracking jokes (”Talk about the agony of da-feet. Please, no standing ovations.”) and making Trevor laugh pretty hard. So, Trevor casually says “You’re funny.” :’) This time it means so much more coming from someone who’s not his sister.

Even though Larry won, the entire crowd is cheering “LOUIS, LOUIS!” for his good deed. Larry is fuming.

The final scene is a sweet mirror talk. I think I’ve mentioned enough how much I love and miss these. This one is a favorite of mine:

"The best thing that happened to me today? A kid called me funny. And as much as I like being on the track team and hanging out with my brother... I like being funny more."

This is so heartwarming. Because it’s obvious that comedy is truly his "thing." It’s nice to see him accept that. (Even though he still struggles later on.) This is another parallel with Shia, I think. He has suuuch a natural gift for comedy. I want him to embrace it more these days!!! *sigh* Plz god.

Louis also ends up getting Student of the Month and his picture is adorable lol

I really, really like this episode.

I feel like most people remember this one pretty well. If you watched Disney Channel during Even Stevens’ original run, then you most definitely remember a slew of quotes. Its quotability is the main reason I’ve ranked this towards the higher end of the list. I also have a soft spot for this episode in general and there’s some nice character development as well.

Like I’ve mentioned before, Disney hammers the first few episodes of a show into the freaking ground. I swear I’ve seen the same few episodes of Andi Mack and Raven’s Home on TV every single day since they premiered. That’s basically what they did with Even Stevens, too. It’s part of what makes Season 1 particularly memorable at times. There really isn’t much that I dislike about this one. Like most S1 episodes, it’s just a little slower. Since it’s super early in the series, the overall plot feels very Late 90′s Disney Channel. Similar to All About Yvette. (I feel like I bring that episode up constantly lol) There’s just a certain pure, old school, generic quality to it that simply cannot be accurately explained and somehow makes me feel a little neutral about it.

That being said, this is only EPISODE 2!!!! Considering that, it’s top-notch honestly. Right out the gate, we’re getting to see more sides to Louis Stevens. Naïve, arrogant/head in the clouds, caring, funny. And of course, we ultimately see what a good kid at heart he is. And boy, do I love to see that. :D

Thanks fo’ readin.

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hedrigal · 7 years

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Akira Live Comments

So I watched Akira last night and my friends made me put my comments in a document:

Impressions: I really like this movie, it is incredibly fast paced and gets so much through just in images and snapshots. Also brilliant use of red flags.

11:58: Akira, Just think. In two short years post nuclear gangs of motorcyclists will be assaulting taxi drivers in cyberpunk Tokyo.

11:58 Like that might actually happen.

12:00: What. Dog murder. This isn’t fucking Jojo. Why is this the anime theme I’ve been dealing with lately? If I wanted to be depressed by dying dogs I’d just watch plague dogs.

12:01: There’s a very old child.

12:04: Oh shit. So there’s also a revolution in the background as the gang war happens. Or atleast mobs of people waving red flags. Which is my favorite kind of mob.

12:05: So the incredubly old child had exploded TETSUO!

12:06: Ancient children are being approached by pod children who look actually young.

12:07: And for some reason my favorite coworker looks like roughly half of the background characters. Extremely short hair, Mustache, very angular face, looks exactly like the Colonel.

12:13: Kaneda helps revolutionaries escape attest if they’re hot women. Sexist, but also semi good Praxis.

12:17: Akira is already doing a good job of establishing this is a collapsing social order. Like capitalism is clearly in absolute crisis, and they haven’t even slightly used those words. So points for that.

12:27: Hah. Communist lady is still a character. And she was apparently involved with a terrorist bombing.

12:30: And she was apparently involved with a terrorist bombing.

12:33: .00005 degrees kelvin isn’t a temperature people can live at movie. I call bullshit.

12:34: his room is just looking like they’re bellow freezing. Rather than instantly freezing them to a painful death. Very slowly.

12:35: Ryu also looks like my coworker. Again. A very solid portion of these characters look like him.

12:37: The communist rebels are relying on millenarian cultists for their hope for the future. I would call that unrealistic, but there are communists who have done dumber things. this is also more radical and more thoughtful than the actual Japanese Communist Party would be capable of.

12:39: Why was the peace of neo tokyo ever left in the hands of a colonel. That’s like, General level responsibilities at least.

12:41: Whoever did the art on this loves angular face mustache men. Which I don’t think there’s anything wrong with. Just a bit hyper specific.

12:41: Oh shit. The bear is moving.

12:41: Oh shit, all the stuffed animals are walking.

12:42: Wait, Tetsuo is just hallucinating.

12:43: And the hallucinations are bleeding cum and attacking him. Oh god thats a lot of cum.

12:43: He scared off the cum monster creatures by bleeding at them from his foot wound. I know it’s milk but the look is too viscous.

12:45: Tetsuo popped those guards like grapes. It was awesome. Good for him.

12:46: Why did the communist terrorist squad recruit Kaneda? He adds nothing beyond so much risk that they’ll get caught.

12:47: Fucking sewer levels. Always lame! Oh, communist lady is named Kei.

12:50: Holy shit. TETSUO has just crushed the cops into a fine paste. Good for him.

12:51: Cum monster stuffed animal things are are back.

12:51: Now they’re just regular children. Who are also seemingly 85 years old.

12:56: Communist lady is already reacting with horror when he gets thrown around? Goddamn. You’ve known him for like a night. Don’t fall in love with him yet.

12:57: Tetsuo keeps saying aloud what he’s psychically told. You’re missing the point of psychic communications.

12:59: Why did they store psychic super child in the fucking olympic stadium?!

1:00: Colonel is staging a crisis.

1:04: Exposition on Akira is happening and I’m very bored by it. They don’t need to explain why there is a psychic child who can destroy the world. He’s just there. Especially when it boils down to him having amoeba powers.

1:06: Is he a pokemon, evolving as an individual, rather than in a process of punctuated equilibrium/gradual adaptation? So there’s now tanks rolling down the street in Neo Tokyo.

1:10: The communist rebels are burning their files in a way guaranteed to burn down their headquarters. Like, you don’t leave the files drifting out onto the very flammable carpet.

1:12: So Tetsuo is going to fuck up the military.

1:13: What the fuck is up with Japan and dudes with little to no hair and just a mustache but a very angular face.

1:14: And communist old guy is dying of a heart attack. Also that cult dead communist is relying on pulled through. Damn. He chose a bad moment to die.

1:16: Kaneda is now going to go deal with the problem for some reason.

1:17: So now there’s an ancient elvis man leading the revolution. Instead of communists. Again I feel like this has happened before.

1:17: Elvis cult man is dead now. Also the Bridge is pretty fucked.

1:19: Well he got to the deep freeze olympics building. He’s walking pretty slow for a rampage. Wow, this has all just kind of collapsed very quickly.

1:20: So communist Kei is being controlled by the bratty half pints who also happen to be like 87.

1:21: Oh shit. AKIRA pod is being flown by Tetsuo.

1:22: By the way, Neo Tokyo is fucked.

1:22: How are those scientists not just doubled over from migraines as the computer flashes at them.

1:24: Oh shit. Akira is just a collection of organs and body parts. Spoilers.

1:24: Also Tetsuos hair has grown massively. Is that just inconsistent art, or has this taken place over months.

1:26: Kaneda is doing pretty alright in this lazer vs psychic powers match all things considered.

1:27: But taking cover is a very dumb plan here. Like, it’s not like Tetsuo needs to see him to pop him like a grape.

1:28: Oh shit Tetsuos being abducted.

1:28: oh shit communist lady is still alive.

1:29: Tetsuo arm cut off. TETSUO!

1:29: TETSUO is literally on a satellite to blow it up. In space. It’s bullshit.

1:30: So Tetsuo murdered the satellite. And Who is actually saying it is SOL?! You’ve been there for like five minutes. Who has been spreading rumors?

1:31: Now his arm is back but robot!? TETSUO gets new powers by the minute.

1:32: The future doesn’t proceed along a predetermined course, there’s a future we can choose. Probably the truest line in the movie.

1:33: Einstein man is really impressed by the science that was made by TETSUO.

1:35: TETSUO’s girlfriend is back and is scared by his cool new robot arm.

1:36: TETSUO is turning into a very aggressive vine.

1:37: Also, poor aim Colonel. You just nicked his freaky arm thing into overdrive.

1:37 So Kanedas power is that he is a biker dude. And that’s it. He has some pretty insane luck. Rolls nothing but 20s.

1:38: Shooting the arm is clearly a bad idea. KANEDA did it again. Like seriously. The last time he did it he just shot out cancer beams to kill a dude.

1:39: TETSUO is going all body horror. And begging for help. and turning into a giant baby from the looks of things. Literally.

1:40: And also, Kaori was crushed to death. But Kaneda popped out like Pus from Sean’s terrible acne advice. The akira tubes have popped.

1:41: and suddenly TETSUO is receding.

1:42: Wait. Fucking what. Akira is alive again.

1:44: Whatever the fuck is happening here is very unclear.

1:49: Whatever the fuck is happening now is pretty incomprehensible. I enjoy it. But I have no fucking idea whats up. Other than that Tokyo is pretty fucked. And millions are dying.

1:50: And that for some reason the Colonel, Kaneda, Kei, and the dude who is so unimportant i don’t even remember when they even said his name are alive.

1:51: TETSUO might be the god of a new universe. Or maybe thats akira. It’s very hard to tell.

1:51: God rays mean deaden my opinion. I’m going to go with god of a new universe given the credits too. They aren’t contradictory.

#Akira #anime #leftbook crazy watches anime #movies #art movies

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hprarepairnet · 7 years

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silverskin

pairing: cormac mclaggen x pansy parkinson

setting: modern, non-magical, the cutting edge au; also, a spiritual continuation of the ice, ice, baby series

word count: 3,749

alternate link: ao3

get to know our members challenge: favorite rare-pairs | (3/5) - andrea

Goalies have a short shelf life, is the thing.

Everyone’s always surprised when they find out that Cormac went to college.

Six semesters at Minnesota, two trips to the Frozen Four, and a solid enough GPA that he hadn’t even been that embarrassed when he was the only dude in his poetry seminar to nut up and declare for English Lit. But then he’d been drafted into the actual motherfucking NHL on a steady diet of Jane Eyre and Madame Bovary, and he’d barely had to make a choice. School was school, and he was okay at it, of course he was, he knew how to focus and he knew how to get shit done and he knew how to parse out the overarching narrative themes of a good gothic romance.

But hockey—hockey was everything.

And he fucking hates calling himself a drop-out, because that makes it sound like he’d quit, or something, and it wasn’t…he isn’t a quitter. He’s not. He commits to shit. That’s his trademark. He’d picked up a hockey stick when he was four years old, and he’d basically never put it down again. His loud roar of triumph after stopping the final puck in a championship shootout had resulted in a sick as hell nickname and an even sicker tattoo permanently inked across most of his upper body. He’d fallen in love with the smartest girl in the world when he was nineteen and too dumb to see all the ways she wasn’t going to love him back, and he’d been carrying around the admittedly pitiful remnants of that particular torch ever fucking since. He’s stubborn. He’s determined. He doesn’t fucking quit.

Which is why hockey—

Hockey was everything.

Hockey was forever.

Forever, it turns out, is approximately three and a half years.

Malfoy solemnly squints as he snaps his fingers next to Cormac’s ear.

“My peripheral vision’s gone, not my hearing,” Cormac says darkly, draining his pint of weak-ass Canadian beer. “You unbelievable fucking dick.”

Across the table, Potter winces, and then waves at the bartender for another round of drinks. “Nothing they can do about it?” he asks, because Potter’s a pretty solid dude, even if his taste in boyfriends is fucking horrifying. “There’s no, like, surgery, or anything?”

“Nah,” Cormac replies, directing a sleazy, mostly automatic grin at the waitress who delivers their tray of Jäger bombs. “Puck hit me at—uh, at a bad angle. One in a million, the doctor said. I’m done, man.”

Malfoy hiccups. “Okay, but, like, can you still skate? Or are you. Y’know. Broken. Permanently.”

Cormac drops his shot glass, watches the Jäger splash out and the Red Bull gently fizz, and he doesn’t really know how to respond. A fuck-ton of guys have it way worse than him, have ruptured Achilles and splintered orbital sockets and totally debilitating concussion symptoms that’ll never quite go away. But he’s only twenty-four. He’d wanted to keep hockey. He’d wanted to hold hockey’s hand and buy it a dozen red roses and take it home to meet his fucking mom during the off-season. Hockey just hadn’t wanted to stick around. Hockey hadn’t wanted him back.

“Yeah, I can still skate,” he says, wiping his hand over his mouth. “Why?”

Blaise Zabini is a retired ex-figure skater with two gold medals and the blankest, most dead-eyed serial killer shark stare that Cormac’s ever seen.

He sizes Cormac up like he’s a particularly questionable side of beef—and somehow, it makes sense to think of Zabini as a butcher with, like, unlimited access to a lot of sharp knives and bloody meat hooks and industrial cleaning supplies—but it only takes Zabini three or four minutes to finally crack a microscopic smile and turn his attention back to his Arnold Palmer.

“Good shoulders,” Zabini says, apropos of fucking nothing. “You’ll do.”

Cormac doesn’t go after girls like Hermione Granger anymore.

Girls with edges.

He picks up girls who are stacked and blonde and uncomplicated. Girls who laugh at his jokes and who smile at the appletinis he buys them and who don’t mind being fucked from behind because stacked and blonde and uncomplicated is actually really, really, really not his type, but the alternative isn’t an option, seriously, he’s not cut out for that level of self-flagellating masochistic bullshit.

And then he’s stepping inside the enormous private rink Zabini brings him to, gaping at the gorgeously polished cedar beams crisscrossing the ceiling, and he sees—he sees—

Pansy Parkinson is her name.

She swishes across the ice with the kind of grace that can only be taught—can only be bought—swift and serpentine and so, so sure, and Cormac’s hockey gear abruptly feels cumbersome and oddly heavy as he watches her move. Watches her glide.

He notices the rest of her in fragments.

Slight, small build. Slender arms, long legs, narrow waist. Glossy black hair, blunt-cut bangs and a sparkly purple headband. High cheekbones and ivory skin and scarlet lips. Emerald green leotard with a keyhole cutout between the wings of her collarbones, shimmery beige tights and boring white skates.

She comes to a halt next to where he’s standing with Zabini, icing them both pretty thoroughly, and, god, she barely even looks at Cormac, just props her hands on her hips and frowns at Zabini and jerks her chin towards Cormac before asking, in a tone that’s flat with derision—

“Who the fuck is he?”

She’s not even pleasant, Cormac thinks, helplessly dismayed by how much he already knows he doesn’t give a shit.

His palms are sweaty.

His mouth is dry.

His stomach is sinking.

He’s been here before.

Pansy Parkinson is not the smartest girl in the world.

She’s arrogant and she’s whiny and she’s entitled and she’s focused. She’s militant about being up before the sun rises, and she’s scathingly critical of everything from the calluses on his fingers to the lingering traces of middle-class Boston in his accent, and she’s unfailingly strict in her interpretation of her nutrition plan. She eats steel-cut oats steeped in flavorless raw almond milk for breakfast, piles leafy greens and grilled chicken and soft-boiled eggs onto her plate for lunch, and carefully weighs out her portion of whole-wheat pasta every night after they’ve studied the film Zabini seems to arbitrarily fucking choose for them.

She’s determined.

She’s competitive.

She’s carefully composed and hilariously self-absorbed and intensely, frustratingly enigmatic.

She listens to shitty pop music during their morning runs, and she flips through dog-eared back-issues of Vogue when they take their water breaks, and she carries herself like she’s simultaneously afraid of her own shadow and confident in her ability to take both him and Zabini in a fucking fist fight. She’s fascinating, and she’s clever, and she’s honestly kind of mean. She spends their first week together speaking very, very slowly, almost exclusively in monosyllables, and asking him if he’s absolutely certain he doesn’t need to keep wearing his hockey helmet.

“You’re lucky I’m not that sensitive,” Cormac tells her, twisting the cap off a bottle of lemon-lime Gatorade. He’s lying. He’s really fucking sensitive. He still cries every time he reads Emma. “Could give a guy a complex.”

“I doubt you need any help with that,” Pansy retorts sweetly.

She’s not wrong.

Skating to music is harder than Cormac thought it would be.

He’s been doing yoga and ballet and, like, jazzercise with Pansy every day, training his muscles to twitch and flex and stretch in ways they never really have before—but finding rhythm on the ice, in sleek black skates with unreliable laces and rickety little blades; it’s fucking rough.

“Jesus Christ,” Pansy hisses, shoving him backwards after he’s messed up some needlessly complicated footwork sequence for the fifth time in one day. “Count out loud if you have to, but get your shit together before you break your fucking ankle.”

“I’m a hockey player,” Cormac argues, annoyed by the defensive slant of his own posture. “There’s a learning curve, princess, we didn’t all grow up doing—whatever the fuck this—tap dancing Charlie Chaplin on ice bullshit is.”

“Yeah, well, there isn’t a learning curve at the Olympics,” she replies, coolly. “Which is where we’re going. Maybe. If you stop skating like a drunk toddler with an eye patch on.”

Cormac grits his teeth, unable to come up with a response that isn’t dumb and petulant and embarrassing, and the smirk that Pansy levels him with is as unimpressed as it is a challenge.

It’s then, though, that he registers a low-simmering onslaught of something—excitement and adrenaline and energy, cratering in his veins and punching at his sternum and reminding him, with vivid, vicious clarity, of suiting up before a game and reading the angle of a puck just right and winning. Being tackled into the boards by his team, by his brothers, after he’s managed another shutout. He’s fucking missed it. Missed this. And he doesn’t have a team anymore, but he does have Pansy. A partner. His partner.

“Again,” Cormac eventually says, holding Pansy’s gaze for a second too long. “Let’s do it again.”

A month into training, Cormac’s dick gets involved.

Zabini’s there, ostensibly to teach Cormac how to propel Pansy into some kind of spinning twirling death-defying lift that, yeah, okay, looks hella fucking rad on grainy Soviet-era film, but—gravity? Gravity’s a thing. Cormac went to college. He knows his shit.

“How,” Cormac starts, scratching at the back of neck.

Zabini gestures absently to Pansy’s thighs, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “Just pick her up.”

Cormac tilts his head to the side. “Uh. Just—where, exactly, am I touching her?” He clears his throat. Adds, again, deliberately plaintive, “Exactly?”

Pansy huffs, and then sighs, and then reaches for Cormac’s wrists, dragging his hands to the space between her thighs. And he just—

He freezes, thumbs and forefingers framing the cradle of her…pelvis? He doesn’t think it’s her pelvis. He’s, like, eighty percent sure, actually, that it isn’t.

But his brain’s not quite firing on all cylinders, and his chest is rippling tight and tense and hot like he’s been crosschecked into a fucking bonfire, and his hands look so fucking big like this, fingers long and thick, palms broad and callused, and she’s tiny, of course she’s tiny, he’s been aware of that—painfully, viscerally aware—since that very first day, that very first moment, except the way his gut is clenching and his skin is tingling and his pulse is racing—it’s new, and it’s familiar, and he aches with how badly he wants to move his hands. A little farther up. A little farther in. He wants to trace the center seam of her leggings with his fingernail, wants to tease her, get her wet, make her gasp, wants to flick his tongue out and swipe his fingers down and press an open-mouthed kiss to the mound of her cunt, grip her hips and hold her—

“—hold her up, man,” Zabini is drawling, sounding bored. “Gotta get used to her sense of balance.”

Cormac blinks.

He’s half-hard in his Under Armour, and it’s as jarring as it is mortifying to realize that touching Pansy like this—learning her body, memorizing the shape of it and the bend of it and the strength of it—this is his fucking job now. He’s here to win. To skate. To take ballet lessons and pack on a lot of unnecessary muscle and grope Pansy fucking Parkinson in exchange for an Olympic gold medal. Nothing else.

Still.

He glances up.

He meets Pansy’s eyes.

He doesn’t think he’s imagining the faint hint of pink that’s blossoming across her cheeks.

It gets worse, after that.

They suck at Worlds.

They suck hard.

Cormac trips over the fucking snaggletooth murder traps on the fronts of his skates, skids into the boards while the crescendo of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony echoes around the rafters of the rink, and he hasn’t eaten ice like that since he was twelve, training with Zabini notwithstanding, and he’s taken aback, almost, by how fucking infuriating it is.

To work and sweat and bleed and still not be good enough.

Somewhere, Hermione Granger is writing her fucking dissertation on emotional manipulation and fucking laughing at him.

Again.

But Pansy’s a professional, of course, and so she skates on, footwork beautiful and timing impeccable, but there’s a rigidity to her movements, a stiffness in her spine and a wariness clouding her jumps, that doesn’t translate well. And Cormac heaves himself up, hurries to join her, tries to get the counts right in his head, but he’s not used to this, still doesn’t hear the nuances of the music quite like he should, and he’s a visible half-beat behind her for the rest of their long program.

Pansy doesn’t look at him afterwards.

She lifts her chin, clutches his hand, pastes a smile on her face, graciously accepts the scattered flowers and the slightly subdued applause; but her lower lip is trembling, and her eyes are suspiciously glassy underneath the false lashes and the metric fuck-ton of glitter, and Cormac feels guilt, gross and thick and vaguely acidic, begin to eat at his insides. It’s shitty. He’s shitty.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out when they get back to their dressing room.

Pansy yanks at the laces of her skates. “For what?”

Cormac hesitates. “For, uh, fucking that up? Like, the whole thing?”

She shrugs. Fiddles with the zipper on her Team USA jacket. Still doesn’t look at him. “It happens,” she says, shortly.

“Well, yeah,” he replies, tugging at the over-starched cuffs of his shirt. It’s an ugly fucking shirt, interlocking shades of grey superimposed by a ragged slash of purposely illegible graffiti. “But, like. I’m still—I’m sorry, I guess, that you’ll have to. You know. Find someone else to skate with.”

Pansy goes dangerously still, a travel pack of cucumber-scented exfoliating wipes crinkling between her fingertips. “Excuse me?”

“Uh,” he hedges, licking his lips, “I’m sorry? I just—this shit was a lot easier during practice, you know, and I’m really…there’s still a few months left before San Jose, you could probably find another dude to—”

“What the fuck?” she interrupts. “What are you talking about?”

“I—I’m just—isn’t that how this goes?” Cormac asks, cracking his knuckles. His forehead is itchy where his sweat’s dried, caking the thin layer of bronze powder the makeup artist had dusted all over his face. “You got rid of…your other partners, the ones before me, and I don’t really expect—I mean—I’m not even a figure skater, you know? You don’t have to. Keep me around, or whatever. It’s okay.”

“Right,” she exhales, and that’s—that’s anger, he can hear it now. Anger and consternation and just the tiniest bit of fear. She’s finally looking at him. “I’m only going to say this once.”

“Uh.”

“You are not expendable,” Pansy snaps, enunciating each word so, so clearly, so crisply, like she’s convinced that if she doesn’t—convinced that if she slurs, or if she stumbles, or if she stutters—he might not get it. It makes her sound frantic. It makes her sound fierce. And he wonders at that, at her, just for a second; has to, absolutely, because she’s the most rigidly self-contained person he’s ever met, and this is unprecedented. This is. This is. “One subpar performance isn’t—it happens, you know that, but you—you’re not going anywhere, you’re not—you’re not temporary. Okay?”

Cormac swallows. He feels a little wrung out, like his skin’s stretched too thin and his bones are too spongey. Like—he’s exposed. Nerves raw, tonsils scratchy. It isn’t bad. Not really. He thinks he could get used to it, actually, if she needed him to. Asked him to.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

On New Year’s Eve, they’re sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, three iPods and Zabini’s laptop and a wine-stained yellow legal pad spread out between them. Cormac’s never really had strong opinions about classical music before, but they’ve been arguing about this shit for three and a half hours, and he has a fucking headache. He deserves a drink. He deserves a Stanley Cup.

“I’ve got it,” he says, popping the cork on a bottle of Bollinger. “Def Leppard.”

Pansy chews on the inside of her mouth. “I know you think you’re joking, but that’s actually—that might not be a bad idea.”

Cormac skips the crystal stemware and grabs two custom black beer steins emblazoned with his old jersey number. “What, asking the Olympic Committee to install a stripper pole on the ice?”

“No, I meant—going rogue, with the music and the costumes and the—the routine, maybe, your technique is garbage, but—wait, what are you doing? What is that?”

“Champagne,” he says, holding out a mug for her.

She doesn’t take it. “I don’t drink.”

He rears back. “What? How do you live?”

“With excellent liver function and a spotless criminal record,” she simpers.

He pauses. “You read my Wikipedia page,” he says, kind of accusingly.

“You punched a math major.”

Cormac makes sure to gulp down most of his champagne before he deigns to answer.

Midnight comes and goes.

They give up on making a decision about the music for their short program, and Cormac turns on a holiday marathon of Love It or List It. Pansy scrunches her toes into the carpet, toys with the hem of her tank top, gradually shifts closer and closer and closer; and the minutes seem to grind to a slick, syrupy halt as the weight of this—the expectation—suddenly becomes realer. More tangible.

It’s not a surprise when their lips finally brush.

It is a surprise, though, that Pansy’s so tentative about it.

So uncertain.

She has her eyes squeezed shut, and her hands bunched into fists around the fabric of his henley, and the movement of her mouth against his is mechanical, slow and soft and wet, yeah, but almost like those are things that she’s mentally checking off a list. Commonly Accepted Attributes of a First Kiss. Lean in. Arch up. Meld. Melt. Tease. Her tongue flicks out, just once, and she tastes cold and tart, like lemon water and peppermint, and Cormac groans, threading his fingers through the ends of her hair, cupping the nape of her neck and tilting her head a little farther back and—she relaxes, slightly.

“Yeah?” he breathes.

Her nails scrape against his skin. “Yeah.”

Twenty minutes later, they’re upstairs.

Pansy’s naked, sitting on the end of his bed with her knees pressed together and her face flushed a seriously satisfying shade of pink. And Cormac’s trying to get his own clothes off, really, he is, but she’s leaning back on her elbows, right, and her tits are small, obviously, she’s small, but they’re round and firm and perfect and the movement sort of thrusts them forward, drawing his attention to the tight peachy-beige buds of her nipples, and they’re—she’s—distracting. He’s distracted.

“Jesus Christ, are you going to fuck me or not?” she demands.

Cormac yanks his boxers off so fast that his cock slaps against his lower abdomen. “Don’t worry,” he assures her when her eyebrows fly up, “it’ll fit.”

Pansy’s jaw goes slack, and then she’s snorting out a laugh that’s deep and throaty and remarkably genuine, actually, nothing at all like the audibly artificial giggling she’d done at their last presser. And Cormac—he doesn’t care, he decides, that this laugh had come at his expense. He doesn’t. He’d say awful, humiliating, utterly moronic shit for the rest of his life, probably, if it would get her to laugh like that again. Which is a problem. Definitely. That he’ll totally address. At some point. Definitely. In the far, far, far off future.

“Who have you been sleeping with?” she asks, sounding mystified.

“No one, lately,” he replies, maybe a little too honestly, before pushing her backwards, dragging his hands from her shoulders to her waist to her hips.

Her lashes flutter as she clamps her bottom lip between her teeth. “Oh,” she says, but then she’s flashing him a smile, small and subtle and pleased, and her knees are falling open, and she’s repeating, much more quietly, much more intimately—

“Oh.”

They’re waiting to board their charter to South Korea when she grabs his wrist.

“Cormac.”

“Hmm?” he answers, scowling at an email from Malfoy that contains an inexplicably snide lol and absolutely nothing else. “What?”

Pansy glances over at him, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized cashmere sweater and fluffy brown Uggs with the tops folded down. She looks fucking ridiculous.

“So…are you…are we…?” she asks, sounding—not indifferent, exactly, but maybe like she’s trying incredibly hard to pretend that she is. “All in?”

And Cormac—

Cormac forgets, sometimes, that other people have feelings, too. Feelings like he does. He shies away from words like “inadequate” and “unremarkable”, hasn’t ever let himself go there, even in his own head, because that’s a slippery fucking slope and he’s a big believer in faking shit until he doesn’t have to anymore. Until he’s tricked himself into thinking that it’s real.

He’s never had to do that with Pansy.

Not once.

And he doesn’t want her to have to do that, either. Second-guess herself, or him, or his place in her life. She’d told him he wasn’t temporary, wasn’t expendable, and she’d meant it, she’d made sure that he knew she meant it, and all he’d done in return was give her orgasms. He could do better. He would do better. He’d get her a gold medal and he’d curate her fucking library and he’d teach her how to play hockey. He’d love her, eventually. He would.

For now, though, he just twists his wrist around, slides his hand up, presses the flat of his palm to the flat of Pansy’s, and he—he marvels for a second. At how tiny she is compared to him. How fragile, and how not fragile, and how much of a fundamental fucking contradiction she’s been all along.

He then laces their fingers together, and he feels her brief tremor of surprise. Feels how she stills, and how she steadies, and how she settles.

“All in,” he promises.

#pansy x cormac #cormac x pansy #cormac mclaggen #pansy parkinson #hprarepairnet #gtk #andrea #drabble #slytherdornet

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dlamp-dictator · 7 years

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Allen’s Ramblings XIV: Allen’s Limits (Fanservice Edition)

Well, I just finished another go-over for my fanfic (which I’ll hopefully be updating tomorrow), so I’m in a writing mood today. Before I head home I think I’ll do a rambling real quick.

So I made a post here saying that I can’t watch the anime Valkyrie Drive Mermaid because it hits “my limit” in terms of fanservice and what I’m willing to tolerate, but I’ve never really discussed what my limits were in terms of fanservice.

Let me just be frank about my (trash) tastes real quick. I love and will defend Senran Kagura as a game with not only good gameplay, but a good story to my grave (unless we’re talking about the timeline/multiverse split, then this game deserves all the flack it gets on that end). I enjoy anime like Ikkitousen/Battle Vixens (the first season anyway), Wanna Be the Strongest in the World (though I will never recommend that to anyone. Ever.), Kill la Kill, Keijo, Koihime (wow, a lot of K’s there), and so on. I love playing games like Dead or Alive (I even buy the DLC sometimes), Rumble Roses, Onechanbara, Blazblue (its female designs are really fanservice-y, let’s be honest here), Nitro Busters, and I’m willing to try almost any MMO with cute female character designs for a bit. Needless to say, I like me some fanservice, or at least I can tolerate a hell of a lot of it.

You will never hear me say “this anime/game is good if you can get over the fanservice” because I refuse to believe an anime or game should have a gap like that for people to over to enjoy it. Unless gap is a video game and it’s a skill-based gap, there shouldn’t be a one in the first place (that said Senran Kagura: Deep Crimson is actually kind of hard unless you grind a bit, so... fair warning). You might have noticed I say things like “if you can’t handle the fanservice that’s fine, but try to make it past episode 1 at least.” That’s because I feel you at least need a minimum amount of context before making a call on a show or game just being fanservice trash. Seeing a few gif sets or screen shots isn’t context, not to me anyway. With shows like Keijo and games like Senran Kagura, there’s a good anime and game there, and a lot of the judgement come from the premise and people just ignore the context. Many of the people that try the games out or watch the shows usually say something “yeah, this is a good game/anime, and it has potential, but the fanservice kills it for me.” That’s a 100% okay thing to say. I just get mad when people call it trash without even looking into it. To say Senran Kagura is a trash game that only panders to male audience is just... not only wrong, but shows ignorance to me. To say Keijo and Kill la Kill are fanservice-y shows that just attract a male audience just... kills my soul a little when I know for a fact that it’s got other things going for it than just the fanservice.

However, with all that said I still have my limits. There are shows and games that even I can’t get intodue to some of the content in it. I won’t say these games and shows are bad, but sometimes I will say I can’t finish, watch, or play them because the content in them turns me off, or at the very least I will advice people to skip certain parts because that’s how bad they turned me off.

But anyway, let’s get on with what limits Allen has in terms of Fanservice:

Bare Breast Being Shown

Christ, this is the main reason I can’t get through Valkyrie Drive Mermaid.

Look, I’m a guy. I’m a straight guy. I think I can comfortably say I like breasts. As an anime fan with trash taste I can say that, yes, I like anime tiddies. However, flashing bare breasts on the screen just... turns me off a little. Like, I get it, sometimes that’s just how the show is. Clothes and underwear come off, so it just makes sense, but I just... don’t enjoy. This is mostly because when I watch fanservice-y anime I’m watching the simulcast version where the boobs and nipples are censored in a way that it’s either in a way that’s comedic (like in Daimao), stylistic (like in Samurai Girls), or by editing shots (like in... most anime nowadays). So, when the blurays come out the anime tiddies are shown in full, uncensored view it feels more distracting than tantalizing. Like, you’ve already hooks me with the story, comedy, or action dude, why are you showing me the anime tiddies when I didn’t care for them three months ago? That’s just how I feel anyway, I think I’m the only one that thinks like this.

Sex Scenes

This is in the same vein as bare breast. I usually watch these fanservice-y shows for either it’s action, comedy, or actual plot (what little one exists anyway), so even if the sex scene makes sense in context, unless it’s playing some comedic gag like someone walking in on the characters and kills the mood or it’s an implied sex scene where the joke is that it’s some innocent I just... don’t want to watch it. A good video game example might be the sex mini game(s) in the God of War series. Yeah, they’re short and aren’t important to the game, but... I didn’t buy the game for that reason, that’s not the point of the game, and it feels like it was put in their for stupid reasons.

Taking the Plot Too Seriously/Flimsy Justification for Fanservice

This is the main reason I can’t get into Queen’s Blade, but some online friends have tempted me into giving it another shot. This is also the main reason I can’t recommend Ikkitousen past season 1. When shows and games try to make their plot out to be something more serious than it actually is it just... makes me wonder why. Like when I was talking about Keijo in my anime updates, it’s main draw was the ridiculousness and action, not the fanservice. If that show tried to play Nozumi’s poverty seriously and had her involved in Keijo out of desperation to make money I would had dropped it immediately.

To clarify, the manga made it clear that Nozumi knew she could make a killing as an Olympic Gymnast, but as a Keijo player she knew she’d have a bigger payout, longer career life, and (arguably) less risks to her body. Becoming a Keijo player was just systematically better for her and that’s why she did it. No more, no less. I would had stopped watching almost immediately if they had made Keijo out to be some vile sport forcing girls to battle for a wild crowd like an underground cock fight and Nozumi was desperate enough to quick being a gymnast to make money in that sport.

Again, this is what killed my interest in Ikkitousen. I was watching that show to see cute girls punch each other with decent fight scenes and animations, not for some Three Kingdoms drama about defying fate. I’ll play Dynasty Warriors if I wanted that.

Playing to a Fetish I Don’t Have/Care About

This one’s pretty simple, so I won’t get too ramble-y here. If the show or game’s trying to sell me on something I’m not into, I won’t care to play or watch it anymore. I’m not about to start spilling my virgin-ass sexual interests on the internet, so that’s all I’m gonna’ say on that.

Underage Sex Scenes/Underage Sexualization

No. No just. This is a bad thing and it’s why I can’t and won’t recommend Fate/kaleid liner Prisma Illya past the first season, and why I will recommend people read Negima at Omnibus Volume 3 instead of at the beginning.

Now, when I say “underage sexualization” I mean “below high school age.” Why do I let high school get a free pass? Well, because I’m pretty sure a good majority of us lost our virginity in high school, and high schoolers having sex is a plot in nearly every live action high school drama ever, so... yeah. High School and sex is just a real life thing, so any complaining about it just seems hypocritical to me unless the sexy is stuff is about the point below. Anything under that high school age is just... no.

Also, the show/game sexualizing things and the fandom sexualizing things are two completely different things to me. I don’t like it when fans do it either, but those are the fans getting horny at the wrong things, not the creators endorsing that behavior... unless they do, but that’s a whole other conversation.

Glorifying Rape/Brutality (Especially Against Minors)

Again, a thing that is just... no. However, this one’s a bit more... eh, complicated?

For me, rape and brutality shown in media isn’t a turn off point. I mean, it is, but if I’m being super-hyper-mega-ultra-willing to, I can deal with it. That is, so long as the characters involve react in a realistic/believable way. Do people in the story justify the act? Do they rebuke the one who did it? Is that person punished in a way that is either karmic, or proper given the laws of the world of that story? Is that person called out on their behavior?

Look, I’m not going to start defending rape and the like in media, I’m just saying if it’s done to make a point and not playing at some ultra-violent fetish then there’s some room for discussion. It still turns me off, it still hits my limit, but yeah.

So yeah, there are a few others for me, but those are the big ones. Anyway, that’s it for this rambling. Feel free to ask me stuff and whatnot. I’m heading home now and I’ll probably be taking a third look at my fanfic, so... yeah.

#your dictator is speaking

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adambstingus · 5 years

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Are You The One Recap: Gio Olympics 2016—Everyone Is A Fucking Loser

Wooohoo, were back. Last week was a fresh and raging shitstorm and I gotta say, I was really looking forward to this week and holy shit did it not disappoint. Im sure cast members took a long, collective groan when they saw this episode and remembered that bitchy girl on the internet is going to destroy them the next day in the recap.

So lets give the people what they want, shall we?

They all are like, “FUCK WE SUCK AT THIS” after getting 4 beams, 4 weeks in a goddam row. Prosper suggests a good old fashioned orgy, because hes a thinker! They all just need to have sex morethats clearly what theyre missing.

PROSPER: There was a moment last night, when she was sandwiched between the two Finnish dwarves and the Maori tribesmen, where I thought,

Gios like hey Prosper, thanks for having my back when I acted like a psycho on TV back there and Prosper is like Id really like to be excluded from this narrative.

Gios like I tried to fight Stephen because of principle and is like if I let one person do it, everyone will. Gio is like an anamorph with some of the shit he says. Everytime he says something that sounds so fucking stupid you want to shove your head into a blender, he morphs further and further into his final form: Donald Trump.

Julias like “I know I should be sad that everyone is fighting over me, but like, Im so happy.” Its not her fault shes so popular!! Meanwhile Stephen is like “LOVE ME PLEASE” and is crying in the confessional. Jesus Christits looking like a tequila kind of night.

Everyone is like they havent even kissed yet!!! which is low-key embarrassing. Its one thing to be pussy whipped when you are, shall we say, getting said pussy.

Julias like KISSING IS HUGEits more important than sex!! Well, one can lead to a child and the other cant, so lets just go with thats wrongthough there are a million Mormon mothers out there who agree with you. Seriously, I had a more intimate relationship in 6th grade.

MORMON MOMS EVERYWHERE: Honey you can only watch MTV if its to watch that nice girl with the overbite who is ABSTAINING. Now come on, get your helmet on and go sell the word of God!

Kaylen and John learn they have a lot in commonmostly just that they cant stand their parents. Thrilling stuff really. I like them both so I wouldnt be mad, just more confused. Yes, very confused.

THE GAME

YES, best part of the season: the dudes exes are here. The girls are so pumped and the guys are trying to find the tallest building to jump off.

The exes come out and they are disappointing to say the least. Def bottom tier sorority status. But hey, yall got a free trip to Maui so like, good job. Congrats on dating losers, I guess it worked out in the end.

Tylers like my ex threw a box of wine at my head, which is a little embarrassing for several reasons. First of all, you just admitted you’re poor. I havent drank boxed wine since I was 19 in a frat house (aka Morgans mothership). And for maximum damage, you should always throw a bottle. And this has been another episode of: teaching someone very obvious things!

The dudes pair with their exes and they get asked questionswhoever answers the most similarly gets a point. Propser doesnt have an ex because his longest relationship was three weeks LOLLLLL. He basically has to sit it out because he ghosts too much. Im weak.

Question 1: Does your ex still think youre a good catch?

Gios ex is like, . Hes immature and Kaylens like Hes also fucking crazy, dont forget that yall. John, Asaf, Stephen and Cam get it right. Moving on.

Question 2: In one word how did your ex describe your relationship?

Gio gets a match because he said crazy and she said ridiculous. At least Gio fucking knows hes crazy. Admitting is the first step.

Morgans ex said that hes really smart and he acts like a stupid frat boy and its like, LOL okay. Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, honey. Maybe if you keep telling yourself you didnt date TFMs poster boy, you might retain some self-respect. I get it.

Toris like WOW hes so deep! Underneath all that muscle and that abnormally square head, he has a heart! Fucking incredible.

Question 3: Does your ex think youre ready to settle down?

Everyone says no. Im sure your matches are PUMPED. Johns very excited about this*fist bumps everyone around him* *pounds beer and crushes it on his forehead* *screams FUCK YEAH MERICA!*

Question 4:What animal best describes your personality?

Tylers ex is literally here to ruin lives, Im low-key living for it.

RYAN: What animal is Tyler? EX: Dog shit RYAN: Thats not an animal EX: RYAN: EX: RYAN: Okay, dog shit it is.

Stephen keeps getting them wrong and Gio keeps getting them rightmostly because every answer has been something like crazy, psycho or horrible. Gios like know yourself, know your worth.

Its down to John, Gio and Cam and Stephen is praying that John/Cam win. Putting your faith in Cam is like waiting for rain in this droughtuseless and disappointing (name that movie, Sam.)

Last Question: Does your ex think you still have feelings for her?

Cam, of course answers it incorrectly, so its John and Gio. Its also, dare I say, fucking lit.

John picks Kaylen and Gio picks, of course, Julia. Talk about the most awkward double date ever. This has given me life.

Julia and Stephen are talking and Stephen is like freaking out about Gio and Julia. He def very worried that Gio may be right.

STEPHEN: That plan is crazy JULIA: I know STEPHEN: So crazy. It just might work

Gios like “I NEED TO MOVE FORWARD OTHERWISE IM GONNA RUIN EVERYTHING FOR ALL OF YOU FUCKERS.” Basically, Gio is a giant asshole. Case closed, bring in the dancing lobsters.

There is a lot of mixed opinions here. Some want to vote Julia/Gio in because itll end this shit, some dont want to waste a truth booth.

HALF THE HOUSE: Im voting for Regina George because she got hit by a bus. THE OTHER HALF OF THE HOUSE: Im voting for Cady heron because shes the one that pushed her.

Prosper and Bagel are cuddling and laughing and let me tell you, I never saw this coming. Hes like youre sexy and Bagels like “I KNOW.” Our self-conscious little Bagel has grown into a confident young pastry *tear.

Tori and Morgan are in a room talking about repopulating the world and other totally relevant shit. Morgan is clearly hammered and is feeling on her ass, talking about her giant ass belly button.

Shes like I had to grow into my belly button and hes like “AH SO THATS WHY YOU GAINED WEIGHT.” YOOOOOOOO, that shit was loaded. Remember that big heart and big brain Morgan supposedly has? Best joke thats been told on this show.

He then is like NO NO THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT! and then is like I wish your ass was fatter. This whole conversation could honestly go down in history as the worst thing to ever exist. Wow, bravo to all involved.

THE WORLDS MOST UNCOMFORTABLE DATE AKA EVERYTHING I HAVE EVER WANTED

For the date, they are going wakeboarding, where Stephen hopes Gio accidently drowns, whoopsie. John gets up on the wake board and Kaylens like And yeah, she really does fucking suck.

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THOSE TWO!!! Gio keeps touching Julia and shes like kinda uncomfortable, kinda not stopping it, which is the story of Julias life.

Mind you, this girl believes kissing is like the ultimate commitment while Gios like, a sex addict.

CHAZZ MICHAEL MICHAELS/GIO: I’m a sex addict. It’s my cross to bear. It’s a real disease with doctors and medicine and everything!

Gios like if I leave here without you I have nothing! and its like, we get it, youre homeless. She says they only have a physical connection and hes like “I KNOW ISNT IT GREAT!?!”

GIO: *plays music* You and me baby aint nothing but mammals so lets do it like they do on the Discovery Channel

They argue the whole time and Gio is like YOURE MINE. Honestly, this dude needs to be put in a psych ward, not a homeless shelter. What are you gonna do, Gio? Fucking share a cot with Julia? Make her hold the sign while you panhandle?

TRUTH BOOTH

Gios like “When I won the challenge, it was amazing. Like fate, karma, the universe, anal sex. But now I feel jipped. What did he expect? They were gonna start fucking on the wakeboarding date?

Gio believes there is still a chance that Julia becomes so afraid for her safety she finally submits to himhes really holding out for that.

Obviously, Julia and Gio are voted to the truth booth. Stephen is like “THIS COULD CHANGE MY LIFE” and its like, nah probs not but ok.

John is pissed because, hes right, they fucking blew a truth booth on this bullshit. Its like, very clear that they are not a match and they just blew this whole thing.

Gios like the house is gonna feel stupid AF and Morgans like NO, youre gonna feel stupidwhen were like, right and stuff. ANYWAYS YOURE FAT!

While Gios planning his hostile takeover of Julias bed, shes like should I cut my wrist horizontally or vertically?

Im on edge and drinking excessively. This is low-key nerve wracking. But the results are in.

Hey Gio? Are you a 90s band that peaked with one song about cocaine? BECAUSE YOUR THIRD EYE IS BLIND, BITCH. NO MATCH FOR GIO AND JULIA, DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS.

GIO, SADLY SINGING: I want somethin else *tear* to get me through this, semi-charmed kind of life, baby baby

And Julias like “there is someone out there for you, but that girl is NOT ME. FUCK YES!” Hes like in there crying and shes like checking her watch like, can we go now?

Stephen is crying too wtf is going on? Johns like consoling him and seriously, Ive seen less tears in my sorority house.

Julias like there, there Gio. Youve been through worse. Yeah honestly Gio, youve lived on the fucking streets. This is the least of your problems.

They come back and John is like and tells Gio that he needs to apologize to the group, Stephen and Julia. Honestly, Im a few tequila shots deep, because my life now consists of drinking alone and watching MTV reality shows, and Im all about John rn. Like is he really sexy or am I fucking hammered?

The conversation goes like: JOHN: Apologize GIO: no JOHN: please die

Julia thanks Stephen for being by her side and dealing with the fact she has never kissed him and he still tries to fight dudes twice his size. And finally they kiss. Aw, Julias first kiss! Babys first rave, babys first rave!

GIO, STILL CRYING AND SINGING: I wish you would step out from that ledge my friend.

The next day, Asaf and Franny are messing around and making out and hes like SHE VERY FUN, hehe. My mom and I discussed this whole thing in a riveting conversation below:

Morgan and the team get a meeting together and decide to do 100% new couples, except Asaf and Camille, because they are probs a match. This is a terrible idea. But Im here for it.

Stephen is like “THIS IS BULLSHIT! I want to pick Julia!” Im ready to put this whole relationship to bed, honestly.

MATCHUP CEREMONY

Ryan is wearing a fugly gray shirt that fades into plaid. Seriously that shit looks like the Sean John collection circa 11. Yikes.

Gio is up first and Ryan is like how did it feel to be wrong? Gios like Well sometimes the third eye has blurry vision, ya know? Who could say?

Gio kind of apologizes to Stephen, but not really.

GIO: I dont hate you because you’re fat; you’re fat because I hate you.

Gio picks Nicegirl Nicole, which is funny because she is the one who looks like she hates him the most half the time.

Prosper picks Franny and Ryans like OKAY, what the fuck are you people doing? Franny explains the strategy and Ryans like, Well arent you all just a bunch of loveable asswipes?

Stephen is up next. Hes like Waiting for that kiss was so worth it. Now hes just gotta wait for his balls to drop.

Ryans like “Are you going to pick Julia” and Morgans like bro Ill fucking haze the shit out of you bro if you fucking do thatFATASS! Of course, he goes against the grain and picks Julia. Ah, selfish men and criers, Julia has a type.

They start making out in front of everyone like Mormon moms everywhere are turning off their TVs, cursing that sinning whore Julia.

Tyler picks Bagel.

Cam picks Tori.

All the confirmed perfect matches at this point are like

Morgan picks Victoria.

Asaf says he thinks Franny is the one, which is very weird since a few weeks ago she was like his sister. Ryans like You mad youre not with her? and hes like STRATEGY, VERY NICE.

Asaf is like Acting like hes fucking jumping on a bomb instead of picking a girl to sit by for 3 minutes. John and Kaylen ARE last and they look miserable.

Kaylens like Gio I loved you and you fucking blew it and were wrong!!! Uh, you two arent a match either? Time to move the fuck on.

Of course, true to the martyr theme we got going here, hes like

RYAN:If you loved her you wouldnt have left her GIO: Honestly I feel so attacked right now

Suddenly Gio is saying that everything he did was for Kaylen. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Like a speech from a riveting sports movie, Camille is like NO YOU FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT AND HELP US WIN THIS MONEY and everyone claps along. Like yeah Gio, lets go out there and win this fucking game! And Gios likehmmm, maybe some money and future prospects in life would be cool.

Were waiting for the beams and they arent coming. HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT. This is not a thing rn. OH, but it isTHEY GET A BLACKOUT.

This means Stephen/Julia, John/Kaylen AND Camille/Asaf arent matches. I think all 10,000 people who watch this show are stunned into shock.

They just lost 250,000 dollars, as Victoria so eloquently screams. Looks like youll be drinking boxed wine forever, Tyler.

Wow, this shit. This shit practically wrote itself. How did Gios third eye not see this coming?

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from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/are-you-the-one-recap-gio-olympics-2016-everyone-is-a-fucking-loser/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/182227933232

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