#let it do the flippy thing three times and then click

[ghostyprince]

Shyan + #14 is calling my name soooooo.... ? ;D

“your hands are so much bigger than mine” listen, you gave me an opportunity here to write them holding hands and i’m abso-fucking-lutely going to take it because it’s one of my favorite things ever 💖 i hope you like it too!

“Fuck, Shane, wait up! Can’t keep up with your fuckin’ Sasquatch legs, goddammit.” Ryan huffs, nearly running after his friend. He’s far from out of breath thanks to all the working out he does in the regular, but trying to match up with Shane’s long legs and dragging a suitcase full of heavy equipment behind him at ass o'clock in the morning is not an easy task at all.

Shane does stop, causing Ryan to run into him almost, and to roll the suitcase over someone’s feet. He’s turning around to apologize profusely when he feels long, warm fingers wrapping around his own and holding on firmly. Ryan whips his head around so fast he almost gets dizzy, the feeling of nausea from the shitty airport coffee threatening to return. It is Shane who’s holding his hand at least, not some weird person, which wouldn’t be that unusual for the LA airport, Ryan saw worse things in his lifetime.

At the same time, holy fucking shit Shane is holding his hand. Full-on skin on skin contact, palms pressed together firmly. And as that fact registers in Ryan’s brain his heart jumps into his throat immediately, gaping at Shane like a fucking fish. He probably looks ridiculous, staring at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, going by how hot his face feels. He can’t exactly blame Shane for taking one look at his face and bursting out laughing, the sound of it lost in the chatter of the crowd, but the sight? That never fails to make Ryan’s knees go weak. He saw a million times, sees it almost every day still and yet it never fails to make his heart do the stupid flippy thing it often did lately. The crinkle of Shane’s eyes was almost worth his embarrassment. Almost.

“Don’t look so terrified, man, I just don’t want you to get lost,” Shane says after his wheezes died down, voice still wavering with amusement and his eyes keep flicking down to their joined hands with something like nervousness. He clears his throat eventually, turning around and tugging Ryan with him as he’s making his way to through the crowd with a firm grip on his hand, speaking over his shoulder.

“Come on, seriously, we’re gonna be so late because you’re too short to keep up with me.”

“Hey, listen here asshole-!” Ryan immediately snaps out of whatever another plane of existence his mind fucked off to temporarily, just to argue of course. And maybe to grip Shane’s hand just as firmly, keeping them close to each other in the sea of people.

They’re both struggling to catch their breath by the time they’re lining up to check-in, having barely just made it. High on adrenaline, Shane gives Ryan a big goofy smile, holding up his hand for a high five that Ryan doesn’t hesitate to smack with his own, grin just as big.

“Fuck, we did it, big guy!” Shane nods frantically, in agreement.

“Fantastic teamwork from the ghoulboys as always if I say so myself.” He says, struggling to keep a serious face through it all and giving a seemingly subconscious squeeze to Ryan’s hand clasped in his. And still not letting go, Ryan notes. His heart is still threatening to jump out of his chest, and his hand is getting a bit sweaty as he’s waiting for Shane to let go of him, but he never does. And Ryan doesn’t want him to either.

As minutes go by and the line shortens Ryan takes notice of how fidgety Shane is. It’s subtle, Ryan supposed he wouldn’t pick up on it if they weren’t so close. The way Shane’s eyes look anywhere but at Ryan, or how Ryan’s not the only one with a sweaty hand. He can practically feel the nervous energy buzzing under Shane’s skin and that’s when it clicks. Ryan’s not the only one who caught feelings.

It’s a heady realization, Ryan thinks he’d need to sit down for a few minutes or hours to process it all, but it still doesn’t stop the smile spreading on his face. And well, if Shane wants to be smooth and sneaky, Ryan has to be up for the challenge, doesn’t he?

“Your hands are so much bigger than mine, dude. Like mine aren’t small either, but yours, they’re- they’re massive.” Ryan breaks the silence between them, finishing the sentence with a wheeze and lifting their joined hands just enough so he can examine them a bit, casually.

It’s Shane’s turn to look at him, all wide-eyed, and yeah Ryan gets it, he can’t stop himself from laughing either, especially because it’s such an unusual expression on his face. Shane mumbles something along the lines of “yeah, I guess they’re proportionate” before he pulls his hand away because they’re asking for their tickets and that is that. Like nothing ever happened, except for the empty feeling the absence of Shane’s hand left in Ryan’s chest.

It’s still there when they’re sitting next to each other in their seats, and it doesn’t cease to exist about fifteen minutes later either. Ryan’s hand is itching to reach out and grab Shane’s, already addicted to how it felt. New, weird almost, but so fucking comforting and good. And Shane had the audacity to leave his fucking hand on the armrest separating their seats, palm turned up and all casual and so fucking inviting. Like it’s no big deal at all. Like Ryan is not fucking dying right next to him.

He takes exactly three more minutes of the unfair torture Shane puts him through and then he’s reaching out. He can’t give a flying fuck anymore. Instead of taking Shane’s hand though, he’s smoothing down the cuff of his button-up, making it neat. He’s acutely aware of Shane staring at the side of his head, curious and stunned in a way, but Ryan won’t back out now, absolutely not.

Shane’s cuff is as neat as it can be when Ryan is finished with it, but instead of pulling his hand away he slides it just a few inches down, leaving his palm on top of Shane’s.

“Your cuff was folded up and it bothered me.” He says, proud of how even his voice is despite the rattle of his heart. He even dares to glance at Shane, who’s expression is surprised, but it soon melts into a soft smile, understanding, relieved.

“I could’ve sworn it was perfectly fine,” Shane answers, amused and lifting an eyebrow at him.

“Well, it wasn’t.” Ryan huffs, annoyed. He can’t fucking believe he likes such an asshole, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“If you say so.” Shane shrugs, dismissing him the same way he does with all the evidence Ryan shows him about ghosts.

“Shut up, and let me hold your stupid hand.” Ryan bristles at the delighted laugh that follows, but a warm smile blooms on his face as Shane twines their fingers together and gives his hand a squeeze, making sure to not let go for the remainder of the flight.

#shyan #skeptic believer #shyan fic #shyan fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff

[gellavonhamster]

terpsichore

explicit || Bertrand Baudelaire/Beatrice Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket || pre-canon

ao3 link || originally posted in Russian

“As to Remarque, I believe that All Quiet on the Western Front is overrated. The same could be said of Three Comrades,” Lemony argues as he unbuttons his shirt. “A classic case of everyone being familiar only with the books made popular by their screen adaptations. Spark of Life, for instance, deserves much more appreciation. So does Heaven Has No Favorites.”  

“Hmm. I share your opinion on Spark of Life,” Bertrand hangs his sweater on the back of the chair, sits down on the edge of the bed, and starts undoing his wristwatch. “But Heaven Has No Favorites… no, can’t agree. I found it rather superficial.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as one of those who consider any book centered on a love story superficial.”

“Please don’t put words into my mouth. I never said that,” Bertrand puts the wristwatch on the nightstand, under a pot-bellied table lamp with a motley shade, and turns to face Lemony again. Lemony is fighting the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt, and it appears they’re winning this battle so far. “It’s just that it looks a great deal weaker when compared to his war novels. If it had been his only book I’ve read, I might have well thought of it differently. Need some help?”

“Be so kind,” Lemony extends his hands to him, and Bertrand unbuttons first the left cuff, then the right one. “Still, you have to agree that the problem of denying the inevitable or resigning yourself to it…”

“Snicket, why are we talking about literature when we’re about to have sex?”

“Well,” it looks like Lemony isn’t embarrassed or bewildered by this question in the slightest, “because Beatrice asked us not to start without her and I thought that while waiting for her, we could revisit our yesterday’s discussion?��

“If you’re not going to start without Beatrice, what are you doing with my belt?”

“Helping you unbuckle it, like you just helped me with the buttons,” Lemony replies, his face perfectly honest. “But I can stop if you don’t want me to.”

Bertrand catches his hand and presses it back to his belt buckle. Perhaps a little lower. Perhaps, not to the buckle.

“Go ahead,” he allows.

Beatrice lives at the attic floor of a house situated on one of the busiest streets in the city, but today it’s surprisingly quiet here. No noise of cars or tipsy passers-by coming from outside, just the sounds of the house itself: the ticking of the clock, the creaking of the bed, his and Lemony’s breathing, Beatrice’s heels clicking in the living room. It is as though this apartment has suddenly wound up outside of time and space, and it shall always be late evening here, an early spring outside the window, and just the three of them and no one else. A sanctuary, Bertrand thinks, running his fingers through Lemony’s soft hair as Lemony kisses his neck, each time near the spot he’s planted the previous kiss at, like applying brush strokes to the canvas. A parallel dimension that strangers cannot enter. He doesn’t know how to express this feeling of blessed detachment from the world, and he isn’t sure it has to be spoken about.        

“Why is she wearing heels at home,” he whispers instead, and Lemony’s quiet laughter tickles his skin.

“Because, my good sir, in my own house I can wear whatever, even a diving suit.”

Beatrice is standing in the doorway, her arm resting on the doorpost. Lemony rolls off Bertrand clumsily, and both of them reclined on the bed, they watch her twirl in front of them like in front of the mirror, providing them with an opportunity to get a good look at her outfit.  

“How do I look?” Beatrice inquires. She seems so pleased with herself, there’s something touching about it. Bertrand smiles.

“Gorgeous,” he says, and immediately after him Lemony pronounces:

“Ravishing.”

Beatrice is wearing a flippy scarlet dress, black stockings, and high-heeled shoes with ankle straps – a highly convenient model for those who have to hide a certain tattoo from curious eyes. Her dark locks are shining in the dim light of the chandelier and falling on her shoulders that are covered with a silvery shawl. Bertrand hasn’t seen any of the things she’s wearing before, except perhaps for the stockings and – certainly – for the pearl necklace he and Lemony gave her for her last birthday as a present from them both.    

“Are we going somewhere?” Bertrand asks, trying not to sound disappointed. Beatrice looks gorgeous indeed, but after the supper, when she pulled them both close, and with an inscrutable smile ordered them to wait for her in the bedroom, he imagined the rest of the evening somewhat differently.  

Beatrice’s face breaks into a smile just as inscrutable as earlier:

“Esmé and I did some shopping today…”

Lemony, who cannot stand Esmé, and knows the feeling is mutual, lets out an anguished sigh.  

“…and I decided I have to show you everything I’ve bought,” Beatrice either doesn’t notice his reaction or pretends not to notice. “Everything at once,” with that, she turns around and disappears in the living room again. Bertrand’s instant conclusion is that she’s forgotten to grab some other today’s purchase, but it turns out that apparently she went to put on a record, because the silence of the apartment is suddenly ripped by the sounds of saxophone. Etta James, Bertrand observes automatically.  

Beatrice appears in the doorway again and makes her way towards them, swaying her hips.

“So what…” Bertrand starts, and immediately gets hit in the face with the balled-up silvery shawl. He looks up in confusion – and meets Beatrice’s eyes as she begins to lift her skirt slowly, smiling with abandon and continuing to move in sync with the music.  

“Now I see,” Bertrand says, and shifts his gaze to Lemony, who is watching Beatrice spellbound and longing and doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. “So does it happen often?”

“Occasionally,” Lemony responds, not looking at him, and Bertrand cannot help but feel a pang of… jealousy? Not of him but of everything these two have already had before him and will probably have after him. Sometimes it crosses his mind that their strange union that came into existence this winter is something fleeting, that he, in contrast to Beatrice and Lemony and their love, is something fleeting himself, because so far everything in his life has been fleeting, and that must have left its mark on him. These are destructive, pestilent, suffocating thoughts – so is Lemony’s ill-concealed certainty that both Beatrice and Bertrand are too good for him and he doesn’t deserve either of them individually, let alone both of them together. So is Beatrice’s slightly better-concealed certainty that in truth, none of them deserves all of this, none of them deserves their fragile secret happiness because they all are murderers and one day all of this shall be taken from them, they shall be taken from each other. These thoughts are impossible to drive out completely; still, Bertrand puts the crumpled shawl to his face, buries his nose in it for a moment – the outfit may be new but the perfume is the same, Beatrice’s dressing room at the theatre smells just like that – and swears to himself at least to put them aside until later.             

“Do you also… occasionally?” he cannot stop himself from asking. Lemony chuckles softly:

“You know I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Eyes on me,” Beatrice orders half-strictly, half-playfully, and they obey, of course they obey her.  

Naturally, it’s not the first time Bertrand sees her dance. But the way she waltzes with him or someone else at another ball of the Duchess of Winnipeg, or dances Charleston with Monty in the Anwhistles’ drawing-room, has nothing in common with what she’s doing now. Bertrand isn’t even sure that could be called a dance: she’s flowing like quicksilver, moving her shoulders, her hips, her arms; she’s running her hands over her body, crumpling the dress; she presses her back to the doorpost and streams down it only to rise again. It seems like she doesn’t notice him and Lemony at all, although a stripper probably is supposed to… maintain the contact with her audience? Remind them that it’s all for them, stroke their ego? Beatrice could just as well be dancing on her own in front of the mirror, so whatever it is that she’s doing seems devoid of play-acting and very intimate, and Bertrand cannot fight the feeling that they’re spying on her and she doesn’t know.    

It is… thrilling.

She undoes her dress with her back turned to them; the zipper gapes open lazily, and after Beatrice frees her arms from the sleeves, the dress falls on the floor. Beatrice steps over the dress – and only then finally looks at them. “And I just wanna make love to you, love to you,” toils away the old record player, yet Bertrand still hears Lemony heave a sigh next to him and squirm on the sheets a little, even though it’s not like he hasn’t seen any of this before – it’s not like Bertrand hasn’t seen any of this before either, actually.      

Fine, they haven’t seen this lingerie set. It makes sense now what Beatrice meant by “everything she’s bought”. All black – stockings with a garter belt, silk panties, and a bra made of translucent lace which, judging by its design (the recurrent necessity to work undercover has broadened Bertrand’s horizons in regard to ladies’ fashion), supports adequately but doesn’t really cover anything. Even from the bed Bertrand still can see her nipples through the twirls of ornaments. That’s all really beautiful, but Bertrand is almost sure that if any other woman was standing in front of him looking like this, some other woman he has never seen in nothing but underwear, never seen without underwear, never held close and never tasted, that wouldn’t have had the same effect upon him. But it is Beatrice standing in front of him and watching him with her shining mischievous eyes and undoubtedly seeing with the naked eye how her little show affects him. Him and Lemony too, Bertrand notices when he turns away from Beatrice for a second and quickly runs his eyes over him.          

Beatrice bends down, swiftly unclasps the strap of one of her shoes, then the other, and kicks them off, careless.    

“Come on,” Bertrand begs in his head, though he doesn’t know for sure what he’s begging for.  

Then she makes her way to him. Perhaps she’s following some plan she has thought out earlier – after all, there’s nothing she enjoys better than coming up with some bizarre and unreasonably elaborated idea and putting it into action; or maybe she’s reading his mind, who knows. In any case, she hardly doubts he’ll guess what he has to do: at some point their ways, which had previously ran in parallel, crossed, and they found out they were great at taking each other’s hints.    

Beatrice detaches her stockings from the garters, takes the belt off, and throws it on the bed – Lemony reaches out to catch it but doesn’t manage to. Beatrice approaches the bed from the side Bertrand is reclining on, and puts her left foot on the bed without a word, her knee bent. For a moment her eyes meet Bertrand’s, and she gives him a barely discernible nod: go on.  

He takes off her stocking very slowly – not because he fears he might tear it but to keep touching her for longer, to run his fingers over her hot skin, to squeeze a little, but not enough to cause any pain. The moments stretch, thicken like honey, and all along Beatrice keeps her eyes on him. She’s got a fresh scratch on her knee – the only thing lacking is a flowery children’s plaster – and she must have shaved her legs either quite a long time ago or just not that carefully, and she’s so familiar and home-like behind all this game of seduction that Bertrand longs to kiss her but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. Frankly, he also longs to do something about the problem that prevents him from concentrating on Beatrice’s performance properly – to take matters into his own hands, so to say – but of that he’s even less sure.  

After he’s finally relieved her from the stocking, his fingers keep stroking her ankle for some seconds more; then he takes his hand away. Beatrice gives him an encouraging smile and moves to the other side of the bed, offering Lemony to take off her other stocking. Snicket turns out to be bolder: he leans down and no, he doesn’t kiss her, he doesn’t dare to, but he presses his forehead to her knee, closing his eyes in rapture. Snicket and his need to worship, literally at times, the people he loves. Bertrand would’ve wondered what that says about his state of mind, but firstly, this is not the most unhealthy need Lemony could have developed after everything he’s been through, and secondly, Bertrand is but a mere mortal and loves the way Lemony nuzzles at his belly before moving down and taking Bertrand’s cock into his mouth.        

“Patience,” Beatrice says when Lemony pulls off her other stocking at last and tentatively reaches out for her again. She’s as turned on as they are: it’s obvious from her voice and the look in her eyes and the way her hardened nipples stand out under the thin lace of her bra although it’s far from cold in the room. She steps back and turns around to go back to the spot by the footboard of the bed – back to her stage – but suddenly stops and notices:  

“You don’t have to suffer though, you know. You just can’t touch me until I let you. But you can touch yourself. In fact, you should,” she smiles playfully, as if drunk. “I want to watch too.”

Bertrand should probably be ashamed of how he makes haste to take his underwear off. He doesn’t manage to, though – a broad hand stops him, suddenly on his crotch.

“If you want to,” Lemony says hoarsely, and if all of this has already felt like too much before, now it is downright unbearable, because he has a voice like melted dark chocolate; had it been tangible, it would have been tempting to dip one’s fingers in it, and then lick them clean. Bertrand looks at him, all flushed, with a ridiculous bedhead caused by their short prelude and the subsequent lying on the pillows, and thinks: does he really believe I’d refuse him?    

“Turn towards me a little,” he orders. “And take off your pants, for crying out loud.”

It must be at that moment that the performance stops being a performance – because they’re not staring at Beatrice non-stop anymore but get sidetracked by each other, and Beatrice isn’t dancing by herself like before but is clearly aware of their presence and watches them just like they watch her. As a matter of fact, she isn’t dancing anymore at all. Her hips still keep swaying but she’s staying at the same spot by the footboard and paying less and less attention to the music – looks like she doesn’t even notice when the song ends, and just keeps on fondling and squeezing her breasts that are still covered by the bra. When she finally takes it off and puts her hands on her breasts again, lifting them and letting them fall, licking her fingers and rubbing her hard nipples, Lemony lets out a deep moan and jerks up his hips. He won’t last long because Bertrand knows how to touch him, heavy and hot and aroused to the limit; because Lemony’s breathing raggedly, and although he’s trying not to miss Beatrice’s single movement, he keeps closing his eyes time and again in bliss and agony. He gets out of step over and over again and his hand slides off Bertrand’s cock and he loosens his grip when he shouldn’t. Just as much enthusiasm, but less skill. Not his forte; Bertrand knows for sure that if Lemony was sucking him off right now, he wouldn’t last long himself. For a moment he imagines what it would have been like, thrusting into Lemony’s hot capable mouth while watching Beatrice, who has climbed onto the bed right beside them, caress herself through her panties and move in a way that makes her breasts bounce as if he’s making love to her now and she’s riding him – and nearly comes on the instant.          

Lemony finishes first. Bertrand doesn’t notice what he’s wiping his hands on: the sheets or his own clothes or that new silvery shawl that must be still knocking around somewhere on the bed. It is probably important but right now he cannot recognize that. What is really important is to kiss him, and Bertrand kisses Lemony first on the lips – he’s so stunned by pleasure that he can just barely kiss back – and then on his sweaty forehead, right by the hairline, hastily breathing in the intoxicating, familiar smell of his hair.

Bertrand moves aside from him and turns to face Beatrice again, set upon using his own hands to finish what Lemony started – and gets hit in the face with the silk panties. He picks them up and reflexively puts them to his face: soaked through.  

Beatrice pulls her wet, slicked fingers out of herself and extends her hand to him.

She told them they can’t touch her until she lets them.

Now he can.

Bertrand sucks her fingers into his mouth, swallows their salty taste, grabs his cock – and finally lets himself go, and the world around him explodes with unknown colours, and Beatrice takes her fingers out of his mouth when he moans.  

“You’re both so…” he hears her say, as though from afar, her voice slightly surprised and tender. When she drives herself to her orgasm with a few confident touches, her other hand keeps hold of the only part of her outfit she’s still wearing: their pearl necklace.    

Then she collapses on the pillows between them, and the three of them lie side by side for a little while, trying to catch their breath. Bertrand is the first to recover himself; he gets off the bed despite Beatrice’s groan of protest, makes it to the bathroom, pours water on the first towel he gets his hands on, and wipes himself with it. Having thrown the towel into the bathtub, he takes another one from the hanger and wets it under the tap, then brings it into the room and drops it on Lemony’s belly. Lemony flinches.

“Clean up,” Bertrand tells him, climbs back onto the bed, and puts his arm around Beatrice’s waist. “You’re going to mess up the sheets.”

“I admire your ability to remain sober-minded in any situation,” Lemony murmurs as he cleans himself.

“I admire your ability to use such fancy language in any situation,” Bertrand says. Beatrice giggles.

“I think,” she props herself up on one elbow and moves closer to Lemony, “he’d use such language even if woken up at three in the morning.”  

“Please don’t try to check if it’s true,” Lemony says, and Beatrice kisses him on one cheek and then on the other and then on the mouth, and Bertrand’s heart aches with tenderness a little when he watches them, but not with jealousy, no.  

Beatrice turns back to him and takes his face into her hands.

“Always thinking about something. Can’t stop for a second, can you?” she asks, affectionate. “What is it about this time?”

“Just the two of you,” Bertrand says.

This time he’s actually telling the truth.

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #bertrand baudelaire #beatrice baudelaire #lemony snicket #lemonberry ice #snicketverse #i am a gen writer so i am sorry in advance #my fic #gella talks snicketverse

[fidothefinch]

Unauthorized Understudy: Chapter 3

Ao3

First chapter / Previous chapter / Next chapter

It had been two days.

Two days without a trace of Damian. No flashes of color in the shadows at night. Nobody leaving treats where the cat or the dog or the cow could find them.

Dick had initially assumed Damian’s hot-headedness and desperation to prove himself a hero had spurred him to go after the blackmailer himself, but after so long without contact, the seed of worry in his gut had grown into a stone. Damian was a smart kid, when he stopped to think. He would have figured out the blackmailer was an inside job.

And Dick had thought he was getting through to him; Damian was responding to routine and a constant stream of support with calm. It didn’t make sense for him to run off like that.

Two days.

He rubbed his eyes when they started to sting from staring at the computer so long. He had complied a list of the information he had. Tim had always joked it was like reading Nancy Drew’s notebook, but Dick needed something to focus all the thoughts racing in his head.

One: Damian was upset about being sent away. He was known for running off on his own to prove himself. He probably went after the blackmailer.

Two: He hadn’t been seen since.

Dick’s eyes traced over that line several times. The tracking devices installed in the Robin suit had gone offline, along with the comms. He almost regretted not implanting one in Damian the way that Bruce had insisted on one in himself, but that was a breach of trust Damian wouldn’t come back from, he was sure.

Batman had ‘interviewed’ the usual suspects and had eyes and ears on the underground. Nobody had seen or heard anything. It meant Robin was being kept on the down-low. Or that the criminals were more scared of the perp than they were of Batman.

Both options were bad.

Three: The last person to see Robin was Michael Heymann, Gordon’s new bodyguard.

He had reviewed the security footage of the police precinct. There was footage of Robin slipping up the steps to the roof, and of Heymann following a few seconds after. There were no cameras on the roof, because the relationship between the commissioner and the vigilantes were still, technically, illegal. There was no way to confirm which direction he ran.

All signs pointed toward the blackmailer having Robin. But for all of the bluster in the notes, the criminal had yet to act on any threats. And how would kidnapping Robin help? The kid was too troublesome to be held as ransom. The best Dick could surmise was that Robin had figured out who the blackmailer was and was being held so he wouldn’t reveal the information.

It would be easier to kill a witness. Dick tried not to dwell on that.

He almost wanted to believe the kid was with his mother. At least then, he knew he wasn’t dead. But Talia was anything but subtle; if she had Damian, Dick would know by now.

He had Alfred spread the gossip he had the flu to get away with spending the day in the Batcave, searching radio frequencies and security footage for even a glimpse of the familiar uniform. He spent his nights under the cowl searching the city for signs of his young sidekick.

Two days. The likelihood of finding a victim of kidnapping dropped exponentially after the first twenty-four hours, a fact that echoed in the back of his head while he reread his notes with blurry eyes.

“It is time you got some rest,” Alfred said, stepping behind Dick with a tray of tea.

Dick blinked for the first time in what must have been several minutes. He pushed back from the Batcomputer to rest them on the dim-lit Cave. “I have to be missing something.”

“You must have memorized the footage and reports by now. The Batcomputer can continue searching for Master Damian’s tracking signal and the feed from the security cameras without rest. You cannot.”

Dick smiled unhappily. “You’re right.” He stood, cracking his back (and his hips, and his shoulders, and his knees—he should work more breaks into his investigations). “How did Bruce manage to get anything done?”

Alfred’s mustache twitched. “I drugged his tea. On occasion.”

Dick’s smile got a little more genuine around the edges, but quickly fell again. “I’ll take two hours.”

“Three.”

Dick eyed that tray that Alfred had brought down. He wasn’t Bruce; he knew better than to argue. “Fine. Three hours.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “If the computer finds anything—”

“I will tell you as soon as you wake.” Dick opened his mouth to protest, but Alfred cut him off again. “You will be no use to the boy otherwise.”

Dick snapped his mouth shut. His eyes closed as he nodded in agreement. He turned to leave.

“Master Richard,” Alfred called. “Do not let your worry consume you. Master Damian is too stubborn and prideful to let any scoundrel hurt him.”

Dick wanted to let that comfort him.

But then, that’s what they used to say about Bruce, too.

It was colder in the basement, a fact that crept up on Damian like the chill through his feet. Goosebumps rose along his bare arms and legs. He rubbed heat into the skin idly.

His feet hurt from standing, but the floor was too cold to sit on. His neck was warm and raw where he had tried—unsuccessfully—to remove the collar, then to remove the leash from the collar, then to break the leash, then to remove the leash from the stairs, then to break the stairs. Each step locked shut with one of those small padlocks that he could break through in a matter of minutes with the aid of a lockpick he didn’t have.

By his estimation, it had been at least forty-eight hours since he had been taken. But there were no windows, and Heymann didn’t seem to bring down food on any kind of schedule; there was no way to be sure.

He also surmised, from the pattern of Heymann’s heavy footfalls overhead, that Heymann left for a majority of the day. He assumed that the man was keeping up the ruse of bodyguard with Gordon in order to keep tabs on Batman’s search for Robin.

Damian grit his teeth against the chill that travelled up his spine. He had to get out of here.

The footsteps overhead began moving toward the door to the basement. Damian schooled his shivering into barely-perceptible tremors and rolled his weight into the balls of his feet.

Heymann was dressed in the Batman suit again, for the first time since the first night. In his hands was a paper plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the same thing he had brought—and Damian had refused—the last several times he came down. He wasn’t convinced it was even a new sandwich.

Damian opened his mouth to tell him off, but Heymann lifted a hand in warning. “A deal,” he said. “Eat the sandwich, and I’ll give you more of your outfit.”

Damian sneered. “How is that supposed to benefit me?” He positioned himself so the slack of the leash was behind him, further from Heymann’s reach but far from out of it.

Heymann offered the sandwich to him. Damian barely glanced at it though his stomach protested.

“We are going out tonight. As Batman and Robin.”

“No we aren’t.” His hands curled into fists at his side.

“You have a choice,” Heymann continued, as though Damian hadn’t said anything. “Eat the sandwich, and I will give you gloves, a cape, and shoes. Don’t eat it, and you will receive none of those things. We go out regardless.”

Damian gave the food another look. It looked innocent enough, but there was no telling what the contents of the sandwich were. The risk was too high. Setting his jaw, Damian shook his head. “No.”

Heymann grunted. “Very well.” Damian flinched when the man flicked his wrist, expecting an attack. The sandwich and accompanying plate crashed into the corner. While Damian watched it fall, Heymann pushed him back against the wall beneath the steps. “Face the wall. Head down.”

Ice, unrelated to the cold room, flooded Damian’s veins. He wouldn’t be able to see if he followed orders. The second Heymann removed his hand, Damian stepped away from the wall.

Heymann’s large hand clapped onto the back of his head, pressing his forehead hard into the cold brick. “I won’t tell you again.”

Damian growled, and pushed back against the weight. Heymann gripped his hair and tugged his head to the side, away from Heymann, applying more pressure than Damian could push against.

The tell-tale clacking of Heymann’s utility belt.

Damian clawed at whatever he could reach. The Kevlar held against his ripped nails.

After a second of silence, there was a small click, and the leash fell slack. Damian’s shock and relief lasted just long enough for Heymann to wrap the tail end around his free wrist. He released Damian’s head.

Damian turned. There was a trickle of something warm down the shell of his ear.

Heymann didn’t wait for him to react. He started toward the base of the stairs. “Come on, Robin.”

That’s when he remembered: patrol. Outside. Like this.

Damian grit his teeth. “Bite me.”

The backhand wasn’t unexpected, but it made the bruises already blossoming on his face ache. The new metal studs attached to the knuckles of the leather gloves made a horrid cracking sound against his cheekbone.

The burly man in the cowl growled. “That’s not how you treat the Batman.”

“You’re not Batman!”

The collar around his throat constricted threateningly as the man pulled him closer. “The old Batman is gone. I don’t know who it is that took his place, but he’s not the real deal. Gotham needs somebody stronger than Flippy-McGee out there.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “He’s stronger than you will ever be.”

He almost regretted the words when the man’s mouth twisted into a snarl. It was not his father’s face under the cowl, or Grayson’s, and it was never more obvious than it was now, when the man’s face twisted with uncontrolled rage.

“You stubborn little shit,” Heymann hissed. He used the collar and attached leash to drag Damian back to the steps. Damian choked. The man paused at the metal banister, switched hands, and began wrapping the leash around a higher baluster than before. He gave the leash a good tug, making Damian’s breath catch in his throat. Locked it in place.

And then he stepped away.

Damian tried to gulp down air, but even on his toes the leash was almost too short. The collar was flush against his neck, digging into his trachea. He tugged at it with his hands, but couldn’t put enough power behind it to relieve any pressure. Every breath was an audible wheeze.

Heymann began to ascend the steps.

“Stop!” Damian tried to shout. It came out as a raspy whisper. “You can’t leave me like this!”

The hollow steps above him stopped. Damian tried to twist around to see, but moving his head only dug the collar in deeper. He listened instead, as the stair creaked under a weight shift. He almost jumped when a hand landed on his head. It swept his hair back roughly, the seams in the gloves catching strays and plucking them out.

One finger caught a piece in the front and tried to coax it into a curl. Damian had to resist the urge to reach up and break it. He couldn’t afford losing his hands again. Not like this.

Heymann grumbled when the hair didn’t cooperate. “You aren’t the original, I know. But you’d think he could choose somebody a bit more similar.” He gave up, patting Damian on the head like he was a dog. “Last chance, you ready to behave?”

“Fuck you!”

Heymann swept another pat across his head before removing his hand. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Master Richard.”

Dick shot to his feet before gaining full awareness. What sleep he had gotten did wonders for his reflexes. “Alfred. Any news?”

The butler had a grave face. “It’s the commissioner.”

Dick’s heart skipped a beat. “Is he—”

Alfred shook his head. “He wants to speak with you.”

Dick nodded absently, already headed toward the door. “I’ll go change.”

“I should have been more specific. He wants to speak to Dick Grayson.”

Dick froze in the doorway. “Why?”

“I’m afraid he could not disclose that information.” Alfred’s voice dropped in volume against some imaginary eavesdropper.

“He said it was urgent.”

Next chapter

#fido writes #batfam #batman #damian wayne

[starrymarktuan]

The Depth of Silence

» Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader

» Genre: Fluuuuff

» Word Count: 4,904

» Description: Of all the jock-gods, Mark Tuan is the strong and silent one. He’s been your lab partner for most of the year, with almost no words passing between about anything other than Bio Chem. But - add a whole lot of alcohol and a varsity jacket, and things begin to unravel. 

» Part of the Varsity Jacket Series

The group of jock-gods was lingering near the refreshments table, distributing red solo cups and laughing at an inside joke. Once everyone was properly armed with alcohol, they dispersed.

Im Jaebum walked over to the screen door, stepping outside to greet his girlfriend and kissing her lightly on the lips. BamBam and Kim Yugyeom walked deeper into the living room and stole the karaoke mics from unsuspecting partiers, beginning to sing randomly and at the top of their lungs. Choi Youngjae wandered into the kitchen where his crush was munching on stale potato chips and talking animatedly with a friend. And Jackson Wang sauntered outside, where he’d spotted his latest fuck-buddy shivering in the cold.

Mark Tuan followed Park Jinyoung over to the dining room table, where a heated game of beer pong had already begun. They both put their name in for next turn before Jinyoung moved to talk to one of his classmates, leaving Mark alone. He leaned against the wall and watched the current competitors, chuckling at the pure excited energy that seemed to buzz around you as you played.

You looked strangely yellow under the mediocre dining room lights, and it flattened the color of your hair considerably. Somewhere along the line, your lipstick had smeared (presumably against the rim of a solo cup) and there was a berry color crossing the line of your lip and down a little onto your chin. You were grinning hugely, your hair frizzy and flying about.

You were completely hammered. Already.

Mark watched for another minute more but realized that this round wasn’t close to winding down yet. So he left to refill his cup and ended up being gone for twenty minutes, having to force an intoxicated Jackson into an Uber. By the time he returned to the beer pong table, Jinyoung was already playing, having replaced you.

“Mark Tuan!” you cheered, spotting him. You tripped over your own feet as you walked around the table, stumbling towards him and eventually falling directly into his arms.

Mark, surprised by this sudden attack, fumbled with his solo cup and eventually let it slip. The now warm beer spilled down the front of your top. You pouted, your eyes hazy and unconcentrated from the intoxication.

“Just because you don’t like me very much,” you whined, “Doesn’t mean you have to ruin my clothes!” You stamped your foot obnoxiously until you seemingly forgot why it was you were stomping. You paused and looked up at him, grinning cutely at him suddenly. You took his jaw in your hand and squeezed, so his lips puckered together, you shook his head about roughly, “You’re so cute!” you squealed. You let go of his chin and twisted into his still outstretched arms, your back fitting snugly against his chest, “All the girls in Bio Chem are jealous of me! Because you’re my lab partner! They don’t know you’re a jerk! Who hates me,” you pouted again.

Mark chuckled at this turn of events, pushing upwards to try and get you standing upright, “I don’t hate you.”

“Yes you do,” you whined, standing up and facing him again, hitting his chest weakly with your palm, “You never talk to me,” your voice became high pitched and desperate, “I’m a really nice person! And I’m smart! I’m a great lab partner to have.”

“I know all that,” he said, taken aback at how his actions (or lack thereof) had been perceived, “You’re a great lab partner...perfect, even.��

“Well if you love me so much!” you shot back, a whiny tone infecting your voice, “Take me home.”

“Okay,” he sighed. Mark hooked an arm beneath yours to hold you upright. He waved at Jinyoung in a form of goodbye and started carrying you through the party, slowly. If he remembered correctly, your dorm was not too far from here, you could walk there. Plus, the fresh air would do you good.

The front door swung open and you took a step outside; the cool night air felt like a slap in the face and you shivered instantly. Mark squeezed your waist to hold you tighter as you descended the porch steps, ““How did I end up with all the drunk people tonight?” Mark said, thinking back to Jackson and all the rum he’d had.

“You’re just lucky that way,” you said snarkily, your head lolling to rest on his shoulder as you walked down the sidewalk towards the main campus. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, a perfect view of his sharp jawline and perfect, dark hair, “Are you going to take advantage of me, Mark Tuan?”

“Not tonight,” he said, grinning down at you.

You giggled at his joke, your laughter quickly turning to a shiver as goosebumps appeared on your arms. Mark stopped walking and stood in front of you to get a better look, “Shit, you’ll get hypothermia in this weather,” he scowled. He slipped out of the varsity jacket he was wearing and held it out for you, “Put this on.”

Instead of taking the jacket you raised your arms, “Clothe me servant!” you commanded, giggling again. Mark rolled his eyes, smiling nonetheless. He walked towards you and maneuvered your arms into the jacket, before buttoning it up around you.

You felt an immediate sense of comfort and warmth. You closed your eyes and smiled at the sensation, the sleeves falling past your hands. You cuddled into it further and said, “This is a powerful jacket.”

“Hmm?” Mark said, falling into stride next to you again. You were still drunk, but you seemed more capable of walking, but Mark didn’t want to let go, so he kept his arm around you.

“This is a panty-dropping jacket,” you said seriously, pursing your lips together. Mark laughed loudly and said -

“Why? Have you dropped yours?”

You snorted, “Pft! Yes. Like the first day we were paired up together,” you said honestly, too drunk to care, “You were wearing this jacket,” you poked yourself in the chest to demonstrate, “And those black skinny jeans that are super hot. And some vans, because cool kids wear vans.” The whole time you were deadly serious, but Mark found the whole thing hilarious. He was going to have to get your drunk again. You stopped walking and turned to look at him, inspecting him for a moment before saying, “And your hair was doing this perfect flippy thing.” You stood on your tiptoes and ran your fingers through his hair in an attempt to get it to do “the flippy thing.”

You leaned against him, your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder to steady yourself. You stayed in this position longer than necessary, staring at his lips for a long moment before looking into his eyes. You laughed softly, “If you kissed me right now, I would let you,” and then you closed your eyes and leaned in.

Mark watched you for a moment, his heart pounding. He wanted to. He wanted to so badly. Your lips were right there and you were offering them to him. But...your first kiss with him needed to be memorable. And like he’d said, this was not the night he was going to be taking advantage of you.

“Not tonight,” he whispered, putting his hands on your shoulders and forcing you to stand fully on your feet.

“You do hate me,” you whined, a sick looking capturing your face. Mark was about to respond but he paused when he saw you. You covered your mouth with your hand before turning and bending double and vomiting all over the grass.

Mark paused for a long moment, before shaking his head in slight amusement and saying, “Let’s get you home.”

When you woke up the next day, it was mid-afternoon and it felt like an oven in your dorm room. You blinked awake and the action caused pain to vibrate through your head. When you changed your position in bed to avoid the light, a pool of drool that had accumulated on your pillow touched your cheek.

“Oh, gross,” you whined, sitting up and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Yes,” Jennie, your roommate, said, “Sleep well?”

Jennie was sitting at her desk with a pencil in her hand, watching you with amusement. You squinted at her and pulled your hair into a bun on top of your head. As you did so, you caught sight of something. A long sleeve in your school colors.

You put your hands down and examined your clothing - a varsity jacket. You covered your mouth with your hand, “Oh my god.”

“If you’re going to vomit, I’m going to leave.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head and smiling at your best friend’s snide comments, “This jacket.”

“Yup. Which of the jock-gods did you hook up with?” Jennie smirked, chewing on the end of her pencil.

You closed your eyes and massaged your temples, trying to move your headache aside long enough to remember anything about last night. God, you’d had so much to drink. Beside you, there was a faint shuffle, and you opened your eyes to find a water bottle and three aspirin on your nightstand.

“This might help,” Jennie said, sitting across from you on her own bed. You downed the aspirin with some water and started to retrace your steps last night -

“I was playing beer pong,” you said, “And losing...and then...Mark Tuan.”

“You screwed Mark Tuan!” Jennie squealed, “That’s so weird! He never sleeps around. It’s like he’s not interested in girls at all, I kinda thought he was gay…”

You sighed, the memories coming back, “He still might be. Nothing happened. Although...I may have asked him to kiss me. Ugh,” you groaned, collapsing onto your bed and covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“Well, I guess you have to give it back,” Jennie said, looking at the jacket as if it could bite her, “I’m starved. Want food?”

“Please.”

“Be back soon,” but before she’d closed the door she stuck her head back in the room and added, “Also, you should really text him, let him know you have his jacket,” she winked and the door clicked shut behind her.

You looked down at the jacket and contemplated your options. You thought about going to Mark’s practice to return the jacket but decided against it. The rumors of just carrying it around campus on Thursday before your lab would be enough of a hassle, you couldn’t deal with all of the cheerleaders and basketball players direct attention. But, in the meantime...you could still wear it, couldn’t you?

So, you kept it on as you pulled up Mark’s name in your messages. Your eyes scanned through your previous conversations and found the interactions lacking. The longest conversation was when you both had a project due in Bio Chem and were trying to work out details. And all of the messages had been short and to the point.

On the first day that you’d been assigned as Mark’s lab partner, you’d tried to be nice. You introduced yourself and tried to chat and make friends, but he’d sort of...shut you down. He didn’t really respond, and when he did his answers were clipped. You gave up trying after about a week, realizing that he must just not like you. As hard as that was to cope with, you decided just to push through until the end of the year.

Basically, typing this message...was entirely new ground.

Y/N

3:52PM: So...I have your jacket.

Your heart was racing as the little bloop sound signaled the message being sent. You pulled the sleeves of Mark’s jacket around your hands and crossed your arms over your chest. You watched your phone for any sign of a response, before registering the smell. It was the smell of the jacket - Mark’s smell. You’d never gotten close enough to him before now, but this had to be it.

It was a sharp cinnamon smell that seemed to wake you up, and alert all your senses. You inhaled it again, relishing in the delicious scent of cinnamon and something that must be pure Mark.

“What are you doing?”

The door clicked shut behind Jennie loudly, and you heard her place the bag on the desk. You opened your eyes slowly, raising your head from the inside of the jacket, where it had sunk in to smell it.

“Smelling…?”

“Oh my god,” Jennie said, rolling her eyes and handing you the food she’d gotten. You were about to take the offering, but instead, you jumped in surprise when your phone buzzed suddenly.

Mark Tuan

3:55PM: I know.

Y/N

3:56PM: I’ll just give it to you during lab on Thursday ?

Mark Tuan

3:57PM: Yeah

3:57PM: Unless

Y/N

3:57PM: Unless?

Mark Tuan

3:58PM: We could hang out…

3:58PM: Study? On Tuesday? After practice…

“Did he just ask you on a date?”

“No,” you said in disbelief, “He’s barely talked to me all semester.”

“Well say yes already!” Jennie swiped your phone from you as you fingers hesitated over the buttons, she typed a quick response and threw it back on the bed, “You’re welcome.”

Y/N

3:59PM: Yes! Pick me up at my dorm at 7!

“Jennie,” you groaned, horrified. She sank onto her bed with a burger in her hand, munching on it with a self-satisfied expression. She raised her eyebrows when another notification lit up your screen -

Mark Tuan

3:59PM: See you then :)

“He sent a smiley,” you said, astonished as you dug around the paper bag for your french fries. Jennie burst out laughing into her burger -

“He’s so awkward!”

Across campus, in the gym, sitting on the bench with a towel around his neck, Mark looked pensive as he stared at his phone. He’d debated sending the smiley and had ultimately chosen to do so. Yugyeom peeked over his shoulder and started chuckling.

Mark winced, grabbing the towel from around his neck and hitting the maknae with it, “Shut up.”

“You’re the most awkward person in the world.”

“Don’t I know it,” Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Tuesday morning was dark and overcast, clouds invading the sky in clumps of grey cotton candy. You eyed the varsity jacket hanging off the back of your chair warily. You’d stopped wearing it because it no longer smelled of cinnamon and Mark Tuan.

“Well, you know,” Jennie said, standing behind you suddenly, “Staring at it will make it disappear.”

“Shut up,” you said, pushing past her with a half smile to go to class.

But you were finished with class at one, which left you six hours to get ready. That was far too many hours, simply because it allowed the space for thoughts to invade. Lots and lots of thoughts. Would he try to kiss you? Would he try to do more? What were you going to do? What was he expecting? Was it going to be just as quiet as in class? Should you wear the jacket or just carry it with you?

“Wear the jacket,” Jennie said. She was laying on her stomach on her bed, a textbook open in front of her and her fuzzy-slippered feet in the air. She twirled the pink highlighter she was using in her fingers and said, “Definitely wear the jacket. It’s much...flirtier,” she said definitively, looking back down at her book and highlighting something.

You frowned at her and then you frowned at the jacket, which was still hanging off the back of your chair with a vengeance. You glanced at the clock, it was already 6:30 - time flies when you’re freaking out. You examined your appearance in the mirror again, tugging on the hem of the dress Jennie had picked out anxiously.

“Why are you so nervous anyway?” Jennie wondered, looking up at you again, “One, you look hot, mostly in thanks to me,” you rolled your eyes, “And two, it’s not like you haven’t gone out with guys before. This won’t be any different.”

“Feels different,” you muttered, sitting next to her on the bed.

“Why? Because he’s a ‘jock-god’?” she made air quotes around the popularly used phrase on campus.

“Maybe?” you wondered, feeling defeated, “I don’t know. He’s just...it’s just...I don’t know how to describe it. It feels different.” You looked at her hopelessly, opening your mouth to add something more, when a sudden clap of thunder scared you both. Jennie held a hand to her chest in fright, looking out the window to see a streak of lightning blaze the sky.

Jennie looked back at you with her eyebrows raised, “Wear the jacket because it’s cold and raining.”

Mark parked his car outside of your dorm and cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella. There was a steady drizzle out, and he suspected that it was nowhere near ready to let up. He got out of the car and sat against the hood, texting you quickly that he was out front.

You appeared two minutes later, toting your heavy school bag and...wearing his varsity jacket. You blushed immediately upon seeing him, fidgeting with the article nervously. He hadn’t had a chance the other night, what with trying to keep you vertical, to really see you in his jacket.

Now though...Mark was astonished. His heart thumped heavily against his rib cage, and despite the cool temperature outside his palms were sweating. You were beautiful, of course, you always were, but wearing his clothes...you were downright sexy.

Mark remembered your drunken words the other night, “Are you going to take advantage of me?”

“Not tonight,” he’d responded. But boy, if he could choose a moment…

“Hi,” you blushed, tucking your hair behind your ear and looking away from him. Mark closed his gaping mouth and stuttered -

“Oh, um, here,” he walked to the passenger side and opened the door for you. You slid into the seat gracefully, holding your book bag in your lap and waiting. But Mark stood awkwardly in the door for a second, in awe that this was actually happening and that you looked this good and that you were wearing his varsity jacket.

But he finally willed his legs to move and slipped into the driver’s seat with ease. He started the car and almost as soon as he did so rain began pelting the windows of the car with heavy thumps. You both listened to the sound for a moment before you changed the subject - 

“So where are you taking me?” 

“Um,” he stuttered, avoiding your gaze, “It’s a surprise.” 

The ride to the restaurant was awkward and tense, the echo of the rain hitting the car windows the only sound. You were so nervous you thought you could vomit. You thought back to your conversation with Jennie - why was this any different from the other guys you’d gone out with? After all, you were just meant to be studying, maybe nothing was going to happen at all!

But...glancing over at Mark, his profile lit by the light from the passing buildings and street lamps...it wasn’t the same. Of course, you’d been nervous when going out generally but this was Mark Tuan. And it wasn’t because he was a ‘jock-god,’ although he was, it was so much more than that.

You’d watched him in class, and at the games. He was more than just the strong and silent one of the jock-god posse. He was funny, hilarious, at games he was always joking around with his teammates. And if you remember correctly, drunk though you were, at the party he’d been sarcastic and entertaining. In class, he was focused and committed. He had to work hard for his grades, but you admired his dedication. And he was nice. Jennie was right when she said that he didn’t sleep around, but he wasn’t cold or rude or cruel, he let people down gently, you sensed that he didn’t like disappointing people. You got the feeling that his silence masked millions of thoughts.

And just like that, you realized, this felt different because over the course of the semester...you’d talked yourself into falling in love with Mark Tuan, despite the cold shoulder he’d been giving you.

If at all possible, the car ride became more awkward and the rain poured even harder.

Mark was tense, muscles-rigid-and-stiff tense. His knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel, and he could not bring himself to look away from the road. Not even to turn on the radio, which might have eased things a bit.

The whole time he was telling himself to cut it out: She already thinks you don’t like her. That you hate her. You have to talk! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But there were too many things he wanted to say. So instead...he didn’t. He couldn’t even imagine where to begin, because how do you tell someone, on the first date no less, that you’d basically fallen in love with them?

Silent as he was, Mark was attentive, especially when it came to things he was passionate about. And if he was passionate about anything, it was you. Well...you and basketball. He knew about your friends, and your hobbies, and your favorite foods. He knew that you couldn’t study with music on because you found it too distracting. He knew that when you tapped your fingers on the table you were bored, but when you tapped your pencil you were frustrated. He even knew what it looked like when something would click for you in class - this sudden brightness on your face, like an exploding star.

Mark got so caught up in the little details over the semester, that he’d basically become this hopeless, sappy mess who pined after you day and night. It was very pathetic. Mostly because the opportunity had arisen for him to do something and he couldn’t fucking speak.

You pulled up to this dinky little hole-in-the-wall, with a fading neon sign advertising Chinese food. You raised your eyebrows at his choice, surprised because you loved dinky little hole-in-the-wall restaurants. They usually had the best food.

“Here we are,” he said, almost absently as he took the key out of the ignition, He drummed his hands against the steering wheel, and glanced outside at the raining pouring down. He offered an explanation, “This is my favorite place to study. Plus, we can wait out the rain here.” 

“Oh,” you said, quiet but pleased. Mark sat back in his chair, still drumming his fingers against the wheel, consumed with thoughts about whether or not he should open your door for you.

You both sat there for another few moments before you finally spoke again, “I guess...we should get out?”

“Yup.”

You both grabbed your study materials and used them to protect your heads as you went inside. A bell dinged as you opened the door, the waitress and chef looking up from their respective tasks and smiling hugely at Mark. They waved and started speaking rapidly in excited Chinese. You didn’t understand a word of it, but you gathered that Mark was a regular customer.

You sat down and put your bag on the chair next to you, “You know Chinese?”

Mark nodded, sliding the menu they’d given him to the side of the table without even glancing at it, “My parents are from Taiwan.”

“Oh,” you said, focusing on the menu. Already you’d discovered something you hadn’t already known about him. Not that you knew all that much to begin with - besides the whole jock-god thing.

“What’s good?” you wondered, looking up at him desperately. He smiled at you so that his pointy canine teeth peeked out. It was very endearing, his smile. You thought, absently, that you’d do pretty much anything to see it again.

“Can I order for you?”

“Please,” you grinned, “Take the pressure off.”

Mark called politely to the waitress in Chinese and spoke quickly to her about your orders, she seemed to already know what he was getting and the whole conversation took less than a minute. You gaped at him the whole time, entirely impressed at this new found language skill.

“So you come here often?” you joked, following his example and pulling out your Bio Chem textbook and your notebook. Mark shrugged absently, leafing through the pages to find the assignment for Thursday.

“I come here to study sometimes, it’s quiet,” he said, “And good food,” he smiled again, and again your heart sort of flopped over and gave in to him. He tapped his pencil against the table and added, “Plus, it reminds me of my parents.”

“They don’t live here?” you wondered, eyebrows raising in shock.

“No,” he shook his head, his hair falling on his face and covering his eyes in an artful rendition of vulnerable. If possible, your feelings only grew. He explained, “My parents live in LA. I only see them during breaks and away games.”

“Oh,” you said, “That sucks.”

He chuckled at your response, looking back down at his book, “So what did you get for number 12? I feel like I did it wrong…”

It went on this way for most of the night. It felt very...natural. Nothing about the interaction was forced, despite the tension there’d been in the car. When the food came, you pushed aside your books and talk about Bio-Chem, and you just...shared.

You told Mark about Jennie and why you’d chosen to go to school here and your parents and what you were studying and your thoughts on Justin Bieber...anything and everything that came to mind.

The waitress had swiped your empty dishes without either of you noticing, and when she finally peeked her head out of the kitchen and called out to Mark in soft Chinese, Mark glanced at his watch and said, “Damn. It’s almost midnight,” he glanced out the window, “Oh, and the rain has stopped.”

You glanced at the front door and noticed that the Open sign had been turned off, “We stayed past close?”

Mark shrugged, standing to collect his books and things, “She lets me sometimes, as long as I don’t get in her way and I don’t make a mess.”

You laughed and packed up your things, watching him as he walked over to the kitchen to talk to the waitress. He squeezed her arm and shook hands with the chef, talking quietly with them for a few minutes. He was so relaxed and at ease here, and you realized that this was really the first time you were witnessing that. This was home for him, at least a little, and you realized how deep beneath the surface all of this was, how deep beneath his silence. And how lucky you were to have seen it.

At school, he was the jock-god, the strong and silent one. Here he was relaxed and funny and chatty. He was open and warm. This was definitely different than the other dates.

When he dropped you off at the dorm, he got out of the car to walk you to the entrance. You stood at the foot of the front steps, toeing your shoe into the ground and waiting. He had to kiss you. If he didn’t kiss you’d basically die.

“This was...fun,” he said, smiling and scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you grinned.

“I hope you know now that I don’t hate you,” he smirked.

“Hate you?” your brow furrowed in confusion, “I never said-” you stopped short, suddenly remembering what you’d said to him at the party that night.

“You also said that if I wanted to kiss you,” he stepped forward, so that his lips hovered over yours, “You’d let me.”

“I would,” you whispered, tilting your head up.

“Good,” he whispered, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, passionate kiss. You moved your head for more access and he tangled a hand in your hair, pulling you closer.

His tongue had just poked your bottom lip teasingly, waiting for an invitation, when a sharp wolf-whistle shattered the atmosphere. You pulled apart, blushing and looking away from each other, as the other students passed.

“So,” you grinned, high from the amazing kiss, “We should do this again,” you walked backward up the stairs.

Mark grinned again, watching you happily as you ascended the stairs goofily. But his expression turned serious suddenly, he pointed to you and said, “You’re still wearing it.” He couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips.

You looked down in shock. You’d been wearing the jacket all night? That had not been the plan. You’d planned on giving it to him the moment you saw him…oops.

“As amazing as you look in it,” Mark said, eyeing your figure up and down, “There’s a pep rally tomorrow and JB will kill me if I don’t wear it.”

“Of course,” you blushed, walking back down the steps and undoing the jacket. You took it off and handed it to him.

“Good night,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to yours again. You giggled happily, like a child, before returning the sentiment. Mark watched you go back up the stairs with a contented smile before you turned around and said -

“You just wanted to kiss me again, huh?”

Mark’s smiled widened to a happy grin, “Maybe.”

“Good.”

a/n: tbh mark is my bias which is probs why this one is so good~~

#aghaseshimkoong #got7 #got7 fic #got7 x reader #mark tuan #mark tuan fic #mark tuan x reader #mark tuan fluff #mark #mark x reader #mark fluff #varsity jacket series

[strydcr]

hellooo babes, i’m blair waldorf acacia (◠‿◠✿) nineteen, she/her, and the main admin here. lol sooo sorry you guys are all trapped in this rp with me. but wtver~ you guys will learn to adore my 3am messages comin’ up with plot that’ll hurt us and what not. also meet the beauty that is stryder estrellas. anyways, i’ll try to keep this as short as possible. since i always get lazy halfway thru writin’ intros. :~)) )) ) &&. of course this got way longer than expected so just find the ☪  at the end to read the summary // aim: alohacacia && skype: alohacacia

****psa you clicked on this so you’re obligated to plot with me srry but i don’t make the rules.

░   * . ╰ ✯ ›  ⊰ SELENA GOMEZ, CIS-FEMALE, TWENTY-THREE ⊱ is that STRYDER ESTRELLAS ? the BARISTA & FLORAL SHOP ASSISTANT MANAGER. they’re known to be INTELLIGENT & INDEPENDENT. but also BLUNT & CYNICAL. unknown to them, they are the reincarnation of PERSEPHONE.

BACKGROUND + TRIGGER WARNINGS: cheating 

well to kick things off, stryder is that one night stand baby. let’s call her biological dad “bio father/dad” and her mom’s husband “dad” then of course her mom is “mom”. sorry if this is confusing. but just think about how stryder is gonna feel once she finds out about this.

once upon a time her mom and her dad were happily in love. like they were the high school sweethearts who ended up getting married and blah blah blah. but before she was born, there was a point in time where the two broke up. probably once they were both about to start freshman year of college. that’s when her mom hooked up with stryder’s bio dad. she obviously ended up getting pregnant. but she ended up making up with stryder’s dad. SOOOOOOO…. he thinks he’s stryder’s father. but he ain’t. the one night stand hook up is.

stryder is completely unaware of the fact that he’s not her real father. her mom is still in contact with her biological dad. obviously, keeping that a secret from both her husband and stryder. but it’s only because her bio dad always sends her money to help provide for stryder. so basically this family is a mess. but only on the low. because on the outside this family is absolutely perfect. she grew up in a really nice household. suburban type of wealth in a town outside of los angeles, california. big house, nice cars, a vacation every now and then. but not rich enough to like be bill gates or something you get what i’m saying? just a nice upper middle class.

you might be wondering... how did they end up in seattle? one day her dad told the fam he had to move out to there because of work. (occupation: tbd) so they packed up everything they had and left. this was around the time stryder was starting her senior year of high school. stryder really isn’t the type to throw a fit over dumb shit. but you know this girl started bawling knowing she wasn’t going to graduate with her only two friends. ‘cause she had to start the loner life all over again.

now, stryder works at a small coffee shop as a barista and an assistant manager at a floral shop. (cause persephone, flowers, how cute.....) she does go to school at a community college about 30 minutes away from her house. probably studying to become a botanists. (a literal flowerchild yes.) and to her surprise she is actually enjoying living here. she doesn’t know why, but she feels drawn to the place.

PERSONALITY + RELATIONSHIPS + TRIGGER WARNINGS: anxiety 

PERSONALITY wise, she’s that tumblr post that’s like ——— me: i love myself i’m such a bitch // me: i hate myself i’m such a bitch. because one day she’ll be like “oh my god you’re my best friend!!!!!” then they’ll do her shady and she’ll be like “new phone who dis?” like do her dirty and she’ll get angry real quick. which is bad because it’ll trigger her anxiety. but yayayayayayayayyyyy. she’s the type to be sippin’ tea with her pinky finger up. she is the “is it bad that i secretly want to be hit by a car all the time” but also the “gotta better myself, my body, my skin and my bank account” type in one. she has a very clean exterior. although she outcast herself a lot. she does care about her appearance. (i.e. she has a sense of fashion.) she really likes to read and learn. so, you can always catch her doing something of the sort. talk to her about flowers or coffee and she gotchu. overall, stryder is pretty wishy washy. it all depends on her mood. she’s kind of a wallflower. isn’t exactly the most popular baby. but that’s by choice, not by force.

when it comes to FRIENDS stryder can always use some of 'em. she possess the qualities of a good friend loyal, honest, trustworthy. however, she can be quite obstinate. which might be a reason why she might not have as many friends as she would like. once her mind is set to think a certain way it’s hard to persuade her to believe otherwise. she’s the type of friend to listen to your problems, but be prepared to listen to her opinions – all of them. she’s also the type to put a friend in check when they need it. she thinks of it as trying to convince them to see the bigger picture. first impressions is something she might not be very good at. while she isn’t exactly the definition of rude, she tends to not filter then things she says. overall, i would say that she might just need a handful of friends and just a whole bunch of acquaintances.

i’m pretty sure stryder doesn’t think she has is ENEMIES. but, i could obviously understand why a girl like her would have any. she tends to be very outspoken and although she doesn’t mean to insult anyone or come off rude, she can’t help it. so, there’s always that. stryder is the type to hold grudges. (this is mostly because of her mother — trust issues man) she thinks once you fuck her over, then inevitably, you’re gonna do it again. basically, if you lose her trust everything you had, despite how far back your past goes, she isn’t going to trust you fully again. so if there was any type of fall out at all, stryder is gonna be pissed 5ever. but if in some point in time where she had to chose between her life and saving another’s, she’d save them before herself. stryder’s a good person guy’s. she has good morals. they’re just messed up in her black hole of thoughts. enemies? *grabby hands*

alright, so stryder and LOVERS. i have a feeling she’s dabbled in the dating world. she’s had a few boyfriends, dates, etc. but most likely nothing LONG TERM. possibly because she doesn’t see the point unless it’s for marriage. just like her mom and dad (lol troll.) she has the independent woman facade going on right now. which makes her seem like she doesn’t want anyone. but deep down she’s a hopeless romantic. this girl would love to be loved. and she truly needs it. most of the time she makes herself the outcast. this girl is completely oblivious to anyone having a crush on her. assuming friendship automatically. she’s probably read tons of books about love and fluffy shit like that. so she has high expectations when it comes to relationships. so someone rlly needs to come here and treat this girl right.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

FRIENDS

best friend — someone who will always be there for her. the person she feels most comfortable with. // m, f, or nb

partner in crime — they may not be the most reliable person like her best friend. but definitely someone she can get turnt tf up with. // m, f, or nb

childhood friend(s) — her first friend(s)! the one(s) she’s known since birth. she will never switch up on the real ones. (or so u think...) // m, f, or nb

ENEMIES

rivals — someone who hates her and some she hates too. maybe they just don’t get along yo. it happens // m, f, or nb

old bully — maybe somebody who bullied her or someone she might have bullied? bc honestly, if she bullied someone it would’ve been a joke. // m, f, or nb

old flame that didn’t end well — this is someone she used to date. maybe they wanted it to go further than just a date. but she ended up cutting ties with them. now it’s just made awk. // m, f, or nb

LOVERS

hate/love — just ‘cause these are my favorites. just little bickering. maybe they’re too much alike or just not a like at all. // m, f, or nb

old flame that ended well — the classic, exes that ended on good terms. they don’t hate each other at all. are actually still on really good terms. and possibly still have lingering feelings.  // m, f, or nb

currently dating — going on dates and what not. having a good time. who knows where this could go.  // m, f, or nb

MISCELLANEOUS

☪ overall, this bitch is flippy floppy. she’s loyal. quiet, but has a lot of opinions. intelligent, but sometimes stand-off-ish. she’s a bit of a feminist. trusts no bitch. but if you’re her friend, she’s chill AF. but really — she just doesn’t know how to process her good thoughts into words. she’s a barista and florist. she’s independent, hardworking, and determined. my muse for her is michelle (spider man homecoming) & margo roth spiegelman (paper towns). she’s a bit sketch when it comes to making new friends. since she’s a bit of a loner. and she’s super family oriented. despite her being absolutely oblivious to the fact that her mom cheated on her “dad” with her bio dad. anyways, give her girl scout cookies and she’ll love you til the end of time. overall, she’s not as lame as she portrays herself to be and is actually a pretty rad chick.

wEW this got waaaaaay longer than i expected it to be. anywho, if you actually read all this i love you and i cherish you hella. if you just skimmed, i would too. i would really love to plot with everyone. so just slide into my dms and we can get things started!! but okay, so, now imma go touch up my other intros. hope u don’t hate me after this long ass essay lmao. luv u *blows a kiss*

[askgamerluna-blog]

Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! - No Survey

New Post has been published on http://www.elitegamersclub.com/flippy-hills-free-coins-hack-no-survey/

Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! - No Survey

Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey Download

Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey

Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey

Flippy Hills is a small and simple yet very enjoyable game. It is also fairly new so, the chances are most of you don’t know what it is. Be that as it may, Flippy Hills hack is here and it will help you get free coins for your account. So what exactly is this game, you might ask yourself?

It is a minimalistic game in every possible way.

The visuals are minimalistic. Background in this game consists of a solid color. There is literally nothing going on.

The level is a diagonal plank of sorts. It is tilted diagonally making your character constantly flip and leaning to the right side. Speaking of character…

Your character is a chicken that looks like a Minecraft model with a very limited color palette. Your task is to bring this hen-like creature from start to finish without literally breaking it. To do that, you will have to make use of the gameplay mechanics.

The entire gameplay consists of only two commands and both of those are taps. The only difference between them is whether you tap on the left or on the rights side of your screen. However, there is a little bit more to it.

Timing is crucial in this game. It is a physics-based two-dimensional game where you have to time your taps just right if you want to get the best score or even finish the level. If you want to get the absolute maximum out of every level, you will have to select all of the coins and finish the level while you’re still standing.

Although this sounds incredibly easy, sometimes it will drive you absolutely insane.

Coins can be used to skip levels that are particularly challenging and Flippy Hills hack can be used to get free coins.

    Flippy Hills free coins hack and how exactly does it help me?

As we have mentioned earlier, this is a very minimalistic game. There is not that much that you can do with free coins hack. Still, there are some basic uses for these coins. Considering how “young” this game still is, we shouldn’t exclude the possibility of coins having more impact on the game in the future.

So far, coins can be used to unlock additional playable characters. Although essentially exactly the same thing as the starting one, these characters will undoubtedly refresh your gameplay experience.

Once you start feeling like your current character isn’t as interesting as it used to be, switch for another one. Although these characters are rather expensive to unlock, that is not something that you should concern yourself with.

Flippy Hills hack for free coins will allow you to amass more than enough of these shiny baubles in just a matter of minutes. This way you will never have to worry about particular skins being too expensive. You can easily get the mall by hacking the game just wants.

  Another use for Flippy Hills coins cheat

But that’s not all you can do. As minimalistic games tend to be tricky, Flippy Hills goes with the trend as well. There are some levels that will get particularly tricky for you. These levels don’t have to be anything special, they are just going to be specifically hard for you for one reason or another.

Basically, they are all the same thing with slightly more or less ground to cover (or hop through) until you reach the finish line. Still, some of these are going to be a nightmare for some players. Make sure you utilize Flippy Hills cheat on levels such as these. If you have enough coins, you can literally pay the game to allow you to skip specific levels.

You can still replay them later but you don’t have to stress about it at that specific time. Sometimes it is much better and much smarter to do things this way. A level that was particularly challenging might be very easy after some time.

Just think about how many times you quit a game because you can get past certain point and then, you come back after some time and absolutely ace it in just one try. This is also the case with Flippy Hills as well as any other arcade game.

Don’t stress and don’t worry about the levels too much. If it’s too hard for you, skip it and maybe come back later to get three stars but until then, try another one instead.

    How to hack Flippy Hills coins using GameBag’s no survey generator?

  This is actually rather easy. If you are someone who has used our game hacks before, you can skip this part altogether. Pretty much all of our generators function in the exact same way. If you have successfully hack the game in the past, this information does not concern you.

For those of you that are here for the first time, first of all we welcome you to GameBag! We hope that your stay here has been a pleasant one and we most certainly hope that you will visit us again sometime in the future.

As for the question at hand, how to hack free coins for Flippy Hills, we shall address it immediately. All you have to do is to follow this short instruction and after you’ve finished reading it, you will know exactly what needs to be done. Let us begin:

  The first thing you want to do is to scroll down to the bottom of page. Once you are there, look around for a red button.

Once you press this button, you will be redirected to where Flippy Hills cheat is located. From this page you will be able to use the generator for yourself and hack as many free Flippy Hills coins as you need.

If you experience any problems or if you are not exactly sure what needs to be done, look around that page. There are going to be written instructions very much like these ones. Simply follow those and you will be over in no time.

    Online Hack

We have executed fundamental components, for example, game resources alter instrument. We have additionally executed propelled hostile to location highlight which noone different has, and in view of this, our hacks stay undetected until the end of time. This android cheat – is this safe? Yes, I heard you. You are inquiring as to whether this apparatus is exceptionally protected. Yes my companion, this Hack apk is protected, on the grounds that it is construct online with respect to our server and you don’t have to spare anything to your PC or your cell phone. We have tried this instrument on numerous Android gadgets, iOS gadgets and others.

Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey

Hello again! Do you like play this game? This new game, because it has only each week starts to be very popular. The game is very similar to a strategy game. Our team decided to create a mobile Hack Online who add you unlimited resource in game. This mobile Online Cheat it truly does work on all phones with iOS and Android devices. This mobile Hack have new anti-ban script who protect your privacy in 100%. We have added new amendments towards script- now there are only private proxy! You don’t ought to download anything because this is an online version, so all you should do is click Online Hack button below along with your Hack is preparing to use! This Cheat are 100% safe and free of charge. We guaranteed that cheat for this game work great on all Android and iOS devices. Also, it’s crucial that you mention that you don’t must root your Android device or jailbreak your iOS device. Our Online Hack is tested on a huge selection of Android and iOS devices plus it worked perfect each and every time!

Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey

We have never seen any issues. In the beta test, there were more than 30 analyzers, who were extremely content with our online hack of ehis game. We have tried this instrument for over 3 months amid the alpha and afterward beta test. From that point forward we have discharged the Gold Adaptation which works useful for each player.A summarization of iOS Hack 2017 components. Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey This Cheats give you the best capacity to get your resources For nothing with no bother. It is extremely well known to utilize these tricks, so be mindful so as to utilize this exclusive from our site so you guarantee that you will utilize just our unique hack, so you don’t have to stress this has been tainted with some vindictive code! This game resources are the in-amusement money, however you don’t have to stress over getting them any longer, since you will utilize our game. This device works for your Android, iOS and your Windows PC. Enjoy!

Some apps access only the data they need to function; Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey hack others access data that’s not related to the purpose of the app.

If you’re providing information when you’re using the device, someone may be collecting it – whether it’s the app developer, the app store, an advertiser, or an ad network. And if they’re collecting your data, they may share it with other companies.

How can I tell what information an app will access or share? It’s not always easy to know what data a specific app will access, Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey hack or how it will be used. Before you download an app, consider what you know about who created it and what it does. The app stores may include information about the company that developed the app, if the developer provides it. If the developer doesn’t provide contact information – like a website or an email address – the app may be less than trustworthy.

If you’re using an Android operating system, you will have an opportunity to read the “permissions” just before you install an app. Read them. It’s useful information that tells you what information the app will access on your device. Ask yourself whether the permissions make sense given the purpose of the app; for example, there’s no reason for an e-book or “wallpaper” app to read your text messages.

Why do some apps collect location data? Some apps use specific location data to give you maps, coupons for nearby stores, or information about who you might know nearby. Some provide location data to ad networks, which may combine it with other information in their databases to target ads based on your interests and your location.

Once an app has your permission to access your location data, it can do so until you change the settings on your phone Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey hack. If you don’t want to share your location with advertising networks, you can turn off location services in your phone’s settings. But if you do that, apps won’t be able to give you information based on your location unless you enter it yourself.

Your phone uses general data about its location so your phone Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey cheat carrier can efficiently route calls. Even if you turn off location services in your phone’s settings, it may not be possible to completely stop it from broadcasting your location data.

Flippy Hills Free Coins Hack! – No Survey

[grizzlefur]

WWEm - M. Night Parablamyan

You’ll be pleased to hear that Comic Sans has gone on indefinite leave. Also, the formatting has now become single line spacing, until I find I don’t like it or something. Let me know if you like it/love it/don’t give a monkey’s butt.

As ever, Emma can be found on Twitter as @Waruce, usually during PPVs.

Transmission date: Monday 12/Tuesday 13 June 2017.

all up in this bitch, cos it's SATURDAY AFTERNOON RAW! raise your hands if you can't remember thing one that's been happening on raw shit, can't type with my hands raised rescind that last advance warning: if i make more mistakes than usual in this writeup, extend me some leniency on account of i can barely see straight, because it's fucking summer so my eyes are full of TREE SPERM and MUCILAGE and THE DEATH OF ALL THINGS seriously, it's a party but oversharing aside, let's watch some wrestlemans and wrestlewomans, although the raw wrestlewomans' division needs to figure out what the fuck it's doing

we open with a recap of joe talking shit to an absent devil who i think is going to be turning up this week? i say that like i care and also him choking the life out of a small portly jewish man and being the most well-spoken kind of psychopath snapping into the present, we're apparently in the cajundome and immediately hit brock's music hey, they know what the fans want now i just need to figure out why they want that so yes, the championship is here, attached to the walking embodiment of technically-legal masking agents but thankfully, only paul has a mic apparently this is the day of joe's fuckupening i paraphrase, but i wish i wasn't "Like a shark luring the chum into his domain..." paul, i think we need to take you to seaworld or some shit apparently joe was somehow abusing brock's ring, despite the whole bit where he hasn't been here in a couple of months paul is hastily retracting everything complimentary he said about joe last week and now throwing shade about the fact that joe's not part of the anoa'i dynasty? that's certainly an esoteric burn the angle is that the coquina clutch would probably fuck brock up, but joe won't be able to get it on him because he ain't shit related note: can we have a moratorium on white dudes calling poc a 'mutt' or similar? leaves something of a bad taste joe arrives, him and brock immediately unload on each other kurt sends in security, brock kills them all, so paul calls in the whole roster to pull them apart and they kind of suck at it leave security to the pros, guys all the faces are clinging onto joe like he's the messiah and end thing, apparently tonight's main event is kkb/hardyz for the title round #34982, but this time it's two out of three falls cut for ads, and we come back on a recap video of the exact thing we just watched i know i say my memory's bad, but seriously booker's still here, because shut up with your reasons

but now, here's elias and his guitar and his array of scarves weirdly, this crowd seems pretty split on him he's written a song about the brave inhabitants of the cajundome asks the crowd to be quiet while he plays, cole immediately starts talking so yeah, this is a song about how louisiana and dean ambrose aren't collectively shit so here he comes elias, please never try and rhyme 'breath' with 'darkNESS' again recap video of the deep strangeness of miz's championship celebration aka, The Day Mike Fucked A Clock With A Chair (and offended his wife) i did like the ending of it, though it's nice to have the cameramen acknowledged as something that exists in-universe elias samson is present, so naturally corey is immediately salty as fuck he hates dean, too, but seriously "The man has the vocal stylings of a pigeon that's been stepped on!" (fun fact: i would probably listen the hell out of an elias samson album) (just do acoustic covers, whatever, i just like his voice) so far, this match consists mostly of dean trying to trashweasel his way out of trouble and elias shutting him down duelling chants seem a bit harsh: "You can't wrestle!" "YOU CAN'T SING!" dean gets his usual comeback sequence comprising a strange mix of real wrestling skill and just running in the vague direction of your opponent and hoping they fall harder than you do elias stands far too close on a suicide dive, basically just grabs dean and walks backwards like oh no i am defeated dean gets the upper hand of a super slow turnbuckle spot, miz runs in to bother him elias still can't even pick up a distraction pin maryse is backing miz up, so at least they're still okay dean goes for miz, he does the wife-shaped shield thing it doesn't work at all, miz gets beaten on a lot dean gets back in the ring, elias does a nasty knee drop on his back as he comes in, swinging neckbreaker for the pin "By hook or by crook, a W is still a W!" are you in a fucking ionesco play, corey

but now let's have more of goldust doing his thing his thing, of course, beign sitting in a chair at a terrible frame rate and quoting films dude, if you just turned that chair a bit, you wouldn't have to crane your neck like that can't be good for you but yeah, vague threats in the vague direction of r-truth

but now we're backstage, and an angry kurt has words for the miz those words basically being FUCKIN' QUIT IT he has enough trouble with big samoan guys named joe miz insults kurt, alludes to his indeterminate personal problems, you could chew the tension demands dean be suspended or fired, kurt retorts with a) shut the fuck up, and b) no maryse is apparently still angry at her husband kurt walks off, miz splutters, end thing cruiserweight time now, after this video to remind yiu just how good cedric alexander is, since he's been away for a while and here's noam dar arguing with his phone backstage cedric comes in to remind noam how done he is with him and his girlfriend's collective shit she is, of course, on the other end of the phone she's injured, but she wants her scottish sleazeball to beat cedric right the fuck up tonight cedric's like fuck, fine, whatever, i'll fight you tonight, but then can you please go bother literally anyone else

so yeah, now it's time for that match noam is still on his phone on speaker as he starts his entrance they're having a barely-audible argument and the phone's casting to the tron for some reason also, noam has a new jumper, and it's nowhere near as good alicia wants to be on the line through the match, noam does not want this the ref's like dude sort your shit out we've got a match to have finally puts it down in the corner, bell rings, lumbar check, end alicia is piiiiiiiiissed that's still an absolutely vicious finisher noam is trying to salvage this telepresence argument while also going oh holy fuck my spine hype no. 58 for the main event

but up next, bray wyatt...does a thing, i guess? he's certainly present and i'm ok with that but now a video package of roman, because god knows we haven't seen so much of him see, this package makes him look good, cos it's just the big spots and not all the slow-ass bullshit between them next week, roman has an announcement about summerslWYATT CUT bray fills the screen, tells us cheerfully that the world is ending does the i'm here thing, and now he is after a randy-based wyatt cut, for some reason did someone click the wrong file? corey calls bray 'bizarre', somewhere goldust is like wait a fucking minute bray's going to kill everyone who sins, sits in apathy while people sin, or blaspheme against him apparently seth lives in a house where his architect's blueprints cover the windows and block out the sun this may just be a parable, but it's a fucking great image oh, apparently bray shattered it because it was a glass house? did you mention this before, bray? bit of a shitty twist other wise m. night parablamyan and now seth will be picking splinters of glass out of his soul for eternity that's a fucking greek god level of ironic fate so yeah, anyone who takes the dark lord's name in vain will get fucked on speaking of, here comes seth to get fucked on/pick glass out of his soul i'd be good for either he's like wait a minute dude you cost me my match because i called you names that seems disproportionate but by the way, you suck seth claims he's here to pipe bomb some truth at us, calls bray a coward don't insult him, he has a backwards tractor bray takes the opportunity to give a sermon on pride, tells seth he, too, ain't shit like lol kingslayer ain't that cute *teleports backstage* bray claims he'll win because gods live forever think we need to read you some egyptian/norse myth there

but now, charly has the hardyz in the led interview backstage corridor whatever thing the hardyz would like you all to remember that they're awesome and that jeff has an unhealthy predilection for jumping off things but now, enjoy this montage of what cena's been up to and remember that he'll be back in an episode i am unlikely to blog

but now we have kalisto vs titus, through the medium of his younger, happier dude and akira tozawa is standing in the front row, because titus wants him on brand apollo beats on kalisto, titus stands by the barricade shouting at tozawa like DUDE LOOK AT MY BOY ISN'T HE GREAT tozawa is like please stop shouting at me kalisto goes for an excessively flippy handspring springboard stunner, apollo counters to a spinout powerbomb for the win titus drags tozawa into the ring for an uncomfortable selfie with them he's just like dude stop hugging me

but now, HARD CUT TO CLOSEUP OF RHYNO PUTTING CHEEZ WIZ ON CRACKERS we all needed that miz has come with a proposal for heath to become part of his entourage rhyno is like dude i'm standing right here miz promises to make all heath's dreams come true, heath's like well i've always wanted to be ic champ hmmmmm miz offers him a shot if he joins the dark side rhyno's like you know what fuck you dude i'm gonna go find kurt to give us a match against you maybe rustle up a friend we're out *aggressively eats crackers* so yeah

spot about that theme park competition thing, but now here's alexa our resident wrestlewoman with her shit together oh hey, a recap of last week's match so it did happen after all no, alexa, don't kick off by mentioning your match at extreme rules we're all trying to forget on saturday, we've got the first women's mitb match, but fuck that noise, tonight's about me but here's nia to take issue with the fact that alexa offered her a title shot, then whined about it and cheated out of it alexa's like i know right we should have had a great match but those two fucked everything up so here come those two mickie's redesigned her gear to play up the Native elements again chest dreamcatcher and everything mickie and dana try to remind everyone how much of a bitch alexa's been to nia in fornt of everyone alexa's like lol no i think your eyesight's going ah, cheap ageist jokes but now,...hit emma's music not that i'm gonna complain fucking love that music *beep boop beep boop* emma announces her dramatic return, demands a shot for the title alexa's just like um do you even go here and now here's sasha fuck it, everyone in the division in the segment that's how we do wrestling, right? so wait, are alexa and nia the only heels on the show? seems unbalanced sasha mocks alexa for literally everything she does, punches her in the face, cue brawl and hard cut to an advert for the episode of smackdown i'l be watching later back from ads, and we've got the 6-woman tag match we all saw coming so yeah, emma's still a heel, just one with a problem with the even heelier champ so yeah, emma's back, with weird shoulder things and boobface and everything although following a gear redesign, the boobface has gone from :) to :o it's great that she's back because she's great, but it does mean i have been once again demoted to the second coolest person to bear the name formulaic tag, sasha hot tags in to beat on emma, alexa decides to just walk off instead of letting emma tag out, bank statement for the tap this is not how you make friends

confirmed, later we have slater/rhyno vs miz/[NAME]

but next, corey talks to bayley about her utter lack of extreme after this advert for gold bond and MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY cole massively hypes it, then is like wait what the fuck am i saying that's the wrong brand smoothly done and now, have a package about how great finn is, and that is THE ONLY ORDER THOSE WORDS GO IN complete with lots of shots doing the arms and telling us how good he is

but yes, now we have corey/bayley just by his existence, corey must remind her how extreme she's not for the love of god, woman, get a tatt bayley's like hey i've never been in that situation before i'm a normal person i don't want to hurt people corey's like um have you ever wondered why you're in this business bayley does this whole motivational self-improvement thing which doesn't really work on its own cena does that, but with the understood subtext that if you get in the way of him being his best self, he will fuck your shit right up and bayley says her next thing is to get the belt back manageable steps slightly awkward hug, end interview so that was a thing

but now, here come A ONE MAN BAAAAAAAAAND (and his friend) rhyno should rebrand as a one man road crew miz and maryse arrive, wearing the mania jackets again, because all the best people read this blog (hey, mike) apparently he approached elias during the advert break, who said yeah fuck off dude so here comes his partner with music that sounds like the laughing fucking gnome of something and on a tricycle it's the bear although this bear is much taller and walks like dean ambrose corey christens him Big John Cubb crowd chant for a tag, miz is like i'm not a moron do you think i don't know who this is corey is just spamming us with spurious life facts about the bear because of his refusal to tag in a large mammal, rhyno is just fucking miz up all over the place cole makes a reference to the jbl and cole show, to reward dedicated weirdos bear tags himself in heath tries to take his mask off, bear punches him in the face good to know bears follow lucha tradition does a bearhug (naturally), heath nearly taps miz tags, then starts beating the piss out of the bear at ringside rips off the mask, revealing some dude, once again and rhyno spears miz into the netherworld throws him back into the ring, bear follows, heath tries to convince him to turn on his master, bear hits heath with dirty deeds, excessively long realisation beat, he unmasks and is in fact dean did...did we just get twin magicked by a bear? IT WAS ME ALL ALONG, MIZANIN! ahem dean goes for miz, he jumps and knocks maryse off the apron she hobbles off with a dark look dean stands there with a magnificent ooooooops look until miz turns around, when he hits him with dirty deeds and puts a still-unconscious heath on top of him for the pin slater and rhyno leave, dean puts the bear head on miz and walks off this just became strange this feels like it should be on one of those serial killer warning sign lists miz eventually rips it off, glares, end segment

hopefully we should have the main event next, if they want to give it the time it deserves oh, looks like we actually are huh was not expecting them to do the whole sensible booking thing recap video of the most beautifully-executed surprise return at mania and also this entire feud i'd forgotten how good their heel turn was, as well oh wait, never mind, neville's here phew if wwe started booking things in a sensible, organic way that gave things room to breathe, i wouldn't know what to do rich swann enters, does his usual dancing, gets punched in the back because neville's taken a bunch of levels in twat oh wait was that the neville level i get it beats swann all over the place, rings of saturn until he stops twitching demands his belt and a mic neville crouches by swann, recites a list of pretenders he's fucked on, kicks him out of his ring starts a monologue like it's good to be the king but will all you usurpers just fuck away off namechecks tozawa, hopefully kickstarting a feud that i am down for like you would not believe apparently titus tweeted that selfie and suggested tozawa might win the title the king is less than amused but now, charly interviews the kkb cesaro has a copy of the hardyz' autobiography so they can laugh and throw it away they keep getting more things on their jackets including they live OBEY patches, which is cool

and next, enzo/cass vs anderson/gallows seriously, you should really logically need more time for a two out of three match than a normal one this show has like half an hour left and we still have to see enzo do a thing or not, who knows with this angle douchebag joisey music hits, nobody is here cut backstage, cass is on the floor under some girders the revival walk past in the background, no reason cass says he went down with one blow to the head, emphasises how HARD they hit enzo doesn't want him to fight, but he insists but in the ring, gallows and anderson are here to trade secondary school burns and muttley laughs about enzo and cass hit twat music again, long beat, and here they are accompanied by a bunch of refs like seriously dude this is a terrible idea if only we had some power to stop this match happening alas, we are only lowly wrestling officials, all we can do is point and harangue corey calls enzo a trash fire masquerading as a human being, which i'm like 80% sure is a john oliver line? sort your material, dude cass beats on anderson through weaponised staggering, finally ags out enzo's 3am-behind-a-hollister style works for a bit, until anderson just kicks him in the head a bunch and tags gallows in cass is lying on the floor outside and magic killer for the pin turns out going into this match with a recent head injury was a terrible idea who knew they set him up for another magic killer, but here comes a big shooooooow to help at which point the heels run away and enzo and show awkwardly hug which is what cass comes around to see fuck daggers, he's glaring broadswords show leaves, cass comes up to his partner like the fuck dude, cut to ads

main event next, fucking finally

ok, no, we have to watch an r-truth reaction video first these have a solid frame rate at least, but that's come at the cost of things like 'colour film', and 'not having r-truth' truth quotes network, forgets to cite it, promises to get goldust got get got got get, end and now in the corridors, enzo comes up to show like dude, the clues all kind of point to you, so i have to ask show's like what the fuck you twat i...oh wait, it's your partner, what a twat calls cass sawft, walks off, end

but now we have a recap video of brock and joe from the start of the show why the fuck do we even need to see this just get to the main event already less than 20 minutes left this is not enough time for a properly-paced best of three match with build and everything oh, and now we get to see joe talking to mike mcmikemike backstage apparently this whole debacle has been exactly according to joe's plan this plan has never been clearly stated which is probably also exactly as planned we are all dancing on a large samoan's palm

but now, here come the hardyz fucking finally oh, and an advert break and that package for how great roman is again siiiiiiiiiiigh thing i didn't quite catch before this cut: is matt hardy wearing a fucking button-fronted short-sleeved shirt? that makes no sense for anyone whose gimmick doesn't include the words 'Caribbean', 'dipshit', or 'Caribbean dipshit' cut back, and now he's wearing no shirt ah well guess some things can just never be known and here are the kkb they've kept the jackets, but gone without shirts to maximise the orbital terawatt laser effect of their entrance bell rings, just over twelve minutes left in the show fucking hell, wwe trust your talent the teams clearly know time is against them - sheamus tries to open with a brogue, then immediately takes poetry in motion and a twist of fate for a nearfall and then sheamus basically just punches jeff in the face for the first fall? this match had so much potential sigh and now, let's cut away for an ad break and naom, gallows and anderson advertising pizza hut buy pizza from us, so twats can take it off you and back to the match recap of the first fall - jeff went for a twist of fate, sheamus countered, threw him into the corner, and did a slightly underwhelming kick to the face for the pin and now we have sheamus just kicking the shit out of jeff jeff mule kicks sheamus into a blind tag, matt hot tags in and starts mashing cesaro's head into all the turnbuckles does a delete, on the grounds that anthem probably don't give a shit, right? kicks sheamus off the apron, twist of fate on cesaro for the win i hope this narration is giving some sense of how perfunctory and artificially quick this is that's two falls in just under five minutes in a fucking championship match sheamus kicks jeff off the apron, kicks matt in the face, knees matt in the face, still can't get a pin turns out all my problems cannot, in fact, be solved by kicking jeff breaks up a pin, sheamus throws himout of the ring, cesaro goes for a neutraliser on matt, matt counters, cesaro counters that back into a sharpshooter, rope break nice sequence then matt goes for a small package, which kind of just seems like a dick move double hot tags, jeff does his usual spots, twist of fate to sheamus, cesaro breaks it just in time sheamus drops jeff on the ropes, cesaro uppercuts him, still no pin jeff bullfights sheamus into the ring post, hits a lovely swanton, cesaro pulls sheamus out of the ring just before 2 cue brawling at ringside aaaaaand double countout with which the cajundome is just so fucking satisfying brawl continues, because fuck you and your matches and your belts and we fade on the hardyz shouting from the ring while the kkb pose with their questionably-retained belts

so yeah that's it that's the show the fuck, guys? i mean obviously it was meant to be unsatisfying, and they're going to be doing it again, presumably at GBoF, but still you could still have done it without that shitty tease match but who knows maybe it'll be narratively significant

anyway, let's clean out that bad taste with some SATURDAY AFTERNOON SMACKDOWN! oh wait it's the setup show for a ppv roll on the shitty tease matches! setting up for mitb, so everything is ladders and tonight we have 6-man tag of the men's mitb contestants and randy and jinder 'face to face'

but now, the new day being played to the ring by their very own marching band, because we're in new orleans, so why the fuck not they could probably take shinsuke's violinist, but i'd watch it kofi opens by thanking the band even before doing their own introduction, which is good form the usos interrupt their gyrating to angrily enter and be thug at them and they can't even finish that before the fashion police turn up fandango claims to have compelling evidence hat their day one is not so h after all "If anything, your day one is...G." tell em tyler tyler gets to finish his sentence before the colóns enter to talk shit about breezango's policing skills (psst, guys) (they're not real detectives) so yeah, we're getting an 8-man tag match here although it's not immediately clear how the fashion police are allying themselves with three men wearing about 17 strings of beads between them the levelling for the announce mics is just fucked to hell tonight does smackdown even *have* a tech team, or is that how they run such a streamlined, modernised show? i do love that this push has given tyler and dango the opportunity to remind us how good they are at wrestling jbl, please stop making bead string jokes *brief shudder* xavier and tyler do a weird-ass combo move consisting of tyler doing a rana-style headscissors on xavier, then stopping at the top so xavier can throw him at primo followed by xavier joing the burgeoning dropkick to the back club the faces take everyone else out of the ring, stop for a brief trombone break and now we get to watch more american adverts i am officially tired of this shit i would much rather be watching this match than adverts about how cigarettes will fuck your mouth or this enormously fucked mountain dew advert and i can't even watch the tiny version in the corner i am very easily distracted oh thank fuck, we're back tyler's in trouble thanks to those dastardly usos jbl reminds us again how the usos are the greatest tag team in the world, and somewhere jason jordan is crying i mean, that's statistically likely at any given point, but still yeah, tyler's just getting the piss knocked out of him including a simultaneously dull yet impressive vertical suplex from epico comes back by throwing a bent-over epico at primo, then clotheslining primo so he ddts him nice, if making no sense whatsoever kofi tags in, kicks everyone, hits jimmy with a boom drop and trouble in paradise for the near-fall and tags in xavier for upupdowndown for the pin and taunt the usos as they retreat in failure

but later tonight, we have charlotte/nattie

but now, aj talks to shinsuke backstage and sami walks in like hey guys what do you want to do in this match asks for ideas, then talks over aj with his usual overthinky ring general thing does a they don't want none, goes for a high five, aj just stares, asks if shinsuke likes the plan, he just stares, sami answers himself and walks off to get warmed up long beat Shinsuke: "...I like him." AJ: "Of course you do." some lovely chemistry between those two which shoudl really surprise nobody

but now, dasha interviews mojo in some random corridor hey mojo, how did it feel to fail and not achieve your dreams last week? mojo is still wearing his watermelon hat magnanimous in defeat he's kind of happy he lost, because he responds to adversity with HYPE and we haven't seen the last of him and as he says this ZACK FUCKING RYDER appears the crowd are as stoked about this as i am he is officially back, and the hype bros are back together get the fuck in so yeah, this tag division's kind of huge

but now, here's naomi who we are reliably informed is amayayayayzing although the same cannot really be said of this new flourescent halter top she's got and she's fighting everybody's favourite leather-clad lunarian (shut up, i'll stop making that joke when and only when it stops being really fucking funny to me) bell hasn't even rung when the trash jazz begins just look at that woefully impractical dress and that super fucking awkward walk down the ramp we couldn't have brought her up through nxt and moved billie and peyton up to perform exactly the same purpose because... jbl explains the incomprehensible ascent of lana with leicester city, neglecting the fact that leicester had in fact played premiership football before that season anyway, tamina and naomi are just beating the hell out of each other tamina like i'll see your bouncy moves and leg lariats and counter by PUNCHING YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF YOUR BODY try punching her leg off of her leg i hear that works against people with legs i don't think i will ever not love that somersault facelock escape naomi does although it does kind of pose the question why she doesn't just commit to it and do a shiranui and split moonsault for the pin good match lana blindisdes the champion incredibly slowly, does a weird-ass glam slam type thing, then gets the belt off an official just by asking for it didn't know you could just do that and all jbl can say is how the belt matches her dress siiiiigh

but now, here are the singhs to introduce their boss he comes in wearing the sharpest fucking blue suit you will ever see next up in entrance music i like way more than i feel i should... the ring is sporting a fucking lovely carpet jinder briefly calls out randy, then goes straight in to calling him a coward and insulting his father maybe ramp the smacktalk up there? and now we're up to the 'promise to dismantle your enemy's legacy backward through history' step this curve feels like it's going to end up in actual bloodshed very soon starts his promo to his people/shouting at the crowd in punjabi, gets partway through, randy's music hits sends the singhs down the ramp to head him off, only for randy to run in out of the crowd and rko jinder on that lovely carpet and then he just fucks back off throught the crowd who love him for being a dickbag but somehow also a babyface dickface? yeah, let's go with that even if it wasn't in his hometown, they could not be setting this up for a 'shock' randy loss any more cue several seconds too long of randy posing and glowering in the stands

and now we have kevin coming into the locker room to brief baron and dolph who don't give the slightest shit what he has to say he's just like guys, i don't actually like either of you, but it's mutually beneficial to work together to take out the babyfaces rather than being dicks for the sake of it and shooting ourselves in the foot which...actually makes sense? dammit, kevin, stop bringing logic and game theory into my wrestling leaves to let them process this, cut to ads

up next, charlotte/nattie

but first, renee interviews randy backstage and he's just like have you even been listening talk less hit more i'm win the thing and leaves well, at least he's sticking to his epiphanies

but yes, now we have the women's match natties back to her old gear, and i'm not thrilled jbl just used the phrases "most likely" and "statistical certainty" right the fuck next to each other in a sentence dude, words mean things and you need to stop just saying whatever but yes, charlotte is here too, with new gear patterned off the terrible moulding on your grandparents' bathroom fittings shot of becky watching the match backstage pull up a fucking chair for once, someone

more wrestling in a minute, but first, YOU WATCH THIS ADVERT BREAK MOTHERFUCKER including an advert romanticising the fact that people need stimulant shots to participate in capitalist society see, this is what happens when you make me watch adverts whioe i'm freestyling i just end up veering into political/economic philosophy, and it's hard to come back from that oh thank god, we're back

we come back on natalya surfboard stretching charlotte like fuck you, i'm a real wrestler charlotte moonsaults nattie for a nearfall as we pan out to carmellsworth watching the match on a tv bigger than either of them again with fuck you i can wrestle, nattie powerbombs charlotte out of the corner for a nearfall (don't tell anyone, but this is actually a good match) naturally, as i say that, it turns into a series of cheap rollup attemtps, then natural selection for the pin but it made charlotte look desperate, which it's always nice to see side note: they've recoloured the GBoF logo so BALLS is the least eye-catching part

time for fashion files noir bitches dango opens with a gritty monologue about his terrible parents cut to him admirin his pecs in a mirror and cut to tyler, lying in the trashed fashion police office dango gets a description of their attackers "One arm....No, two arms!" dango sketches something, tyler confirms that it was them who attacked him dango hustles tyler off to get help, and we slow zoom on the pair of stick figures as the segment ends

but now, let's have an inspiration porn segment about a kid not dying of liver disease let's not get into my ranting about disability politics

moving on, dasha grabs lana backstage for an opinion lana's like i don't actually give a shit what any of you think byeeeeeeee

but now it's main event time opening with kevin's massive distorted face it's like neville and tjp selling their names for power, this is clearly a 'you can be champion if we can reveal how you look like hodor when viewed from below' situation and now here's baron, accomnpanied by a vt of him being a twat last week (but which instance? we may never know) dolph's entrance is mostly overridden by an advert for talking smack, which i won't be watching because jbl's on it sami and aj enter with less fanfare, but they still don't want none to leave time for the best music in the company but how will he enter tomorrow night the suspense whoever the tommaso ciampa-looking dude in the corner is, he is freaking the fuck out about being within reach of shinsuke cut for ads, during which the match apparently started and as we come back, i realise that i didn't fully appreciate the awfullness of those godawful cyan tights dolph iswearing only emphasised by putting him in the ring with shinsuke shinsuke counters dolph's elbow drop through his signature technique of 'being elsewhere', hot tags aj in, and he opens by basically hitting dolph with the bitter end and then an ushigoroshi, except we don't say that any more ooh, nice counter goes for a styles clash, dolph counters to a tornado ddt everyone else gets involved, cut for ads, and we come back on dolph/sami natursally, kevin immediately comes in as i type that sami counters kevin's senton with his knees, basically turning it into a self-inflicted lumbar check as often happens, this heel team seems much more concerned with shouting at everyone within range than having the match sami gets the shit beaten out of him by kevin, counters to a blue thunder bomb, can't quite flop fast enough to make the tag takes some more punishment, pulls out a big lariat and then bullfights all three heels out of the ring in succession sloooooowly flops to his corner, and just as he gets there dolph and kevin pull aj and shinsuke off the apron lovely bit of timing so sami just goes fuck it and helluva kicks baron for the pin maybe lead with that general fighting ensues and now kevin has a ladder he and dolph hit sami and aj with it "Unforgiving impact of that ladder on your flesh." byron's freestyling for his upcoming black metal album meanwhile, baron gets the ladder and fucks on everyone with it sets it up under the briefcase, climbs sloooooowly enough for shinsuke to push it over and somewhere, randy orton began to bleed kinshasa to baron, and shinsuke dramatically climbs the ladder himself and retrieves the most important business supplies in the world and we fade on him posing

so yeah, setup show, but that was pretty good and it looks like mitb should be good better than extreme rules, at any rate and certainly less of a misnomer unless it suddenly becomes clear that shane's accounts were frozen long ago and there was never actually any money but in any case i'll try and get this up tonight (Saturday), and then it's mitb tomorrow hmu on twitter @waruce if you want to see me struggle not to fall asleep and also to reconcile my excitement for MONEY MONEY MONEY MONEY with the failings of late-stage capitalism (shit, it happened again)

anyway, that ends this week's show, but up next, it looks like it's gonna get a bit finnegans wake

#Wrestling #WWE #WWE Raw #wwe smackdown