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penaltbox · 3 years

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no promises - cole caufield

here’s a little fic that i’m actually pretty proud of and i owe so much credit to @puckyess for always helping me get these ideas rolling. if you like it let me know! feedback and reblogs are much appreciated!

word count: ~5.9k

The image of the gold chain he always wore dances behind your closed eyelids for the third night in a row. You swear you can hear his ragged breath in your ear, his mumbled profanities mingling with the gasps you let out when he checks to make sure you’re still okay, and the brief mentions of something gone wrong during the game. It’s like he’s right there, pushing you both closer to a release of emotions that you played no part in aggravating. You’re ready to lose it when you shoot up in bed, your phone lit up on the side table next to you with a notification. You take a deep breath and steady yourself, not even realizing that you’d fallen asleep. You rub your hand over your face and grab the device to check who was contacting you at such a late hour. You had a feeling you knew who…

‘Speak of the devil’, you thought as you unlocked your screen and tapped on his message. You realize then that it’s just past one o’clock in the morning and you connect the dots that he’d probably just gotten back from their trip to Ohio State.

‘come over’

Never a please. Never a ‘would you like to’. Never a doubt that you wouldn’t do exactly what he asked of you.

And you had yet to prove him wrong. You slip out from under your covers quickly, grabbing some clothes and sneaking into your bathroom with your fingers crossed that your roommate wouldn’t hear you. You shower quickly and shave, slipping on the lace underwear that he’d probably hardly notice and some comfy clothes before brushing your teeth and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Your roommate asks, head peeking over the back of the couch as you jump in surprise. She was rarely up late, but of course, some west coast hockey game had kept her up well past her bedtime on that night of all times. You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed the TV still on when you walked out.

“Uhm, nowhere,” you lie, knowing she’ll see right through you, “I’ll be back tonight though.”

She sighs and turns back around, “you know he’s just going to hurt you.”

And that… that was probably true, but it’s something you refuse to think about in that moment. Instead, you slip your shoes on and grab your keys, heading out just as suddenly as his request had come in. You made a half-hearted mental note that this needed to be the last time you did this.

You hate how quickly you get to his place but you can’t help it. It’s like second nature at this point and you could get there on autopilot if needed. Some nights it felt just like that but tonight you had a weird buzzing under your skin. It wasn’t like you were doing this for the first time or anything. Far from it, in fact. You try to brush the feeling off as nerves and stop two doors down from his actual apartment, sending him a text that you’d arrived, just like he always asked you to do.

It takes a few minutes but his head pops out of the door suddenly and he smirks, “about time.”

You roll your eyes playfully and walk towards him, leaning in to kiss his cheek before making your way towards his bedroom. Brock barely spares you a glance from the couch, focusing his eyes on the TV as he watches the replay of the game your roommate had caught earlier. You blush and turn towards Cole’s room, but manage to catch Brock telling Cole to keep it down in a less than pleased voice.

You ignore it and make your way into Cole’s room, peeking out the window at the city below that was much quieter than you were used to with it being such a late hour.

“Miss me?” He calls from behind you, catching your attention.

You turn and find him still donning the smirk he’d formed when he first saw you that night, “wouldn’t you love to know.”

He scoffs a little and you watch his demeanor start to shift. Cole never called because he wanted to see you. No, it was more that he needed you to be there. Cole had a short temper ever since getting to Wisconsin. He found himself easily agitated and regularly frustrated at how his game had gone from smooth and easy with the NTDP to always struggling with the Badgers.

And then one night he met you. He didn’t mean to start hooking up with you but you knew enough about hockey that he could talk about what went wrong if he wanted to, but you also knew when you just let him have his turn to get his frustrations out. His mouth turns down in a scowl as he locks his bedroom door and closes the gap between you two. His stare is constant and you feel your cheeks heat up almost instantly. He had control over you that you’d never given up to anyone and it made for addictingly good sex.

“This last game sucked,” he mumbles, backing you against the wall and resting a hand on your hip. He’s so close you can feel his warm breaths as he seems to disconnect from the world suddenly.

He goes silent but you don’t need any other explanation. You’d watched the game and saw he got his shit rocked on a couple different occasions. You would bet there was a bruise somewhere under his clothes that you’d be finding in no time.

He presses his lips roughly against yours as his free hand comes around your waist, holding you tight against him. His hand slides up from your hip and slips under your shirt until he gets up to your bra… or where it should be.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling back and lifting your battered Wisconsin crew neck over your head, “no bra? I love it.”

Your heart stalls a little at the l-word, not expecting him to say that. You don’t get time to react though as he kisses you again, slower this time, and angles you over towards the bed. He lets you fall back on it and you smile, reaching a hand out for him. He takes it, giving you a grin back that makes the buzzing under your skin worsen.

Cole was always different once he got you in his room. He didn’t say much when you got there or left, but when it was just the two of you? He was all hands on. He was vocal; he checked in on you, he praised you, and he always made sure you finished. But he never looked at you when he did.

He’s quick to shed his own clothes and tug your joggers off, wasting no time as his lips found as much skin as they could. He left a couple marks, but not anywhere they’d be visible. You did your best to keep up, gripping his shoulders as you rolled your hips up against his.

He’s settled into you and creating a pace before he says another word, his tone strained as he says, “can’t believe that goal didn’t count. Fuck that ref. We hardly got enough chances on net. Shit, I’m getting close, baby.”

“Just a little longer,” you squeak, digging your nails into his back as the pet name rolled through your thoughts. He never called you by name during sex. It was a red flag that stood tall but you still ignored it every time it happened.

You could feel every failed play in the way he moved. You knew there were missed shots and poor passes that resulted in them losing. You watch the wheels turn in his head as he holds you down just a little harder, blunt nails digging into your skin. His left bites the skin above your collarbone and you know it’ll leave a mark but it still pulls an obscene noise from your lips.

He presses his forehead into the crook of your neck, lips melting against your warm skin. He slips a hand down to help you along and it works much faster than you expected. You hated how he knew what would make your body react fastest as you tumble to your end. You try to catch your breath below him, knowing the hold he had on your hip would leave bruises. It usually did. He rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling for a couple minutes when he’s done.

He looks over at you, the corner of his lips just slightly pulled up, “are you good?”

“I’m good,” you laugh, still a little out of breath, “just don’t make me stand up right this second. My legs feel like jello.”

“Deal,” he laughs, letting his hand slide over, hooking your pinkies together in the small space between the two of you.

Once you finally feel up for it you slide out of his warm bed, grabbing your clothes and sliding them back on. Cole pulls sweatpants on and waits until you’re ready before walking you out. He stops at his own door first though and leans down, giving you a much more gentle kiss than the first that night. He lets you both linger, arms wrapped around each other, and leans his forehead on yours when he finally separates his mouth from yours.

“I’ll see you next time?” He asks, but you both know the answer.

“Yeah, of course.”

His demeanor turns back to friendly versus affectionate as he walks you to the front door. You notice that Brock is no longer taking up space on the couch and you feel embarrassed when you think of what he must have heard.

Cole tells you goodbye, but there’s no hug and definitely no kiss this time around. He watches until you get safely into the elevator and leaves you with a nod of his head. You really wondered why you stuck around but when you remember the last kiss he’d given you, you can’t help but press your fingers to your lips as the buzzing under your skin heightens again.

—

You watch the time tick down off the clock, wincing when you watch Cole smash his stick off the wall at the buzzer. They’d gotten destroyed by Minnesota and you already knew what type of mood he was in. The announcers make comments on the bad attitudes the Badgers were toting, mentioning multiple things they’d done wrong that night. You mute them but leave the feed running just in case they interviewed someone you’d want to hear from.

It was a home game so there was no flight to wait for but you had a good feeling you’d be getting a text in an hour or two so you moved from the couch to your bathroom, not wanting to make him wait with how he was acting already.

As soon as you wrap the fluffy towel around your body and tap the screen you see three messages waiting from Cole and one from a number you didn’t have saved. You frown and open it quickly, tapping the unknown number first.

‘Hey it’s Brock. Sorry if this is weird but the doors unlocked and I’m gone for the night so deal with my brother please and thanks’

You laugh a little, knowing he must be way more worked up than you expected. ‘What a shit show this is going to be’, you think to yourself. You skim Cole’s messages next that range from ‘come over’ to ‘I’m dead serious get over here’. You’re about to type out a response when his contact pops up on your screen. He’d never called before.

“Hello?” You answer, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Why are you ignoring me? Get over here,” He grits out, sounding so tense your jaw drops a little.

You sigh, tucking the phone between your shoulder and cheek as you hurry to your room to grab clothes, “I am, I promise. I was just in the shower.”

“We don’t make promises, remember? The front door is open when you get here.”

You’re about to tell him you knew that but the line goes dead, leaving you to stare at the blank screen in your hand. You’re baffled at the attitude he was projecting onto you but you get your things together anyways and finish getting ready. ‘

You don’t hurry to his place this time, knowing he was on edge either way, but you still get there in under 20 minutes from when he’d called. You bite your lip as you try the door handle, finding it unlocked just like both Caufield boys had said. You take a deep breath and walk in, locking the door behind you

“Cole?” you call out, looking around the small space. He’s not in the kitchen or living room so you head down the hall. His room is dark, leaving you confused, but then you hear the shower. You tap on the door and peek your head in, “Cole?”

His head pops out from around the corner, a frown so prominent his forehead was creasing. It eases off his face a little when he locks eyes on you as he calls for you, “will you come here? Get in with me.”

Your face heats quickly. You’d never done something so intimate with him and you were wondering if it was really the best idea. Your skin starts to get that all-too-familiar buzz under it now and you were starting to think it was permanent around him.

“Are you sure? I just took one and I don’t mind waiting in your room until you’re done.”

He sighs, pouting a little, “please.”

You really wished you had more willpower in that moment but when it came to him you just didn’t. You nod and make your way into the small room, striping your clothes off as he watched. It makes you feel so much more exposed than usual but somehow it’s not uncomfortable. You push him back gently as you go to step in, smiling a little.

“You better make room if you want me in here,” you tease, putting your hair up in a bun to keep it dry.

Cole smirks and pulls you into him, eyes still scanning your body, “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

You snort at that and roll your eyes, “we both know that’s a lie. You’re the one who calls the shots around here.”

He’s silent for a moment before he smirks and leans down, kissing you hard. He bites gently on your bottom lip, much to your surprise, and lets a hand trail down the side of your thigh. He looks like he’s up to no good when he pulls back, making you let out a little laugh. You knew when you were in trouble with him.

“Let’s see what it’s like in the shower. I bet you sound amazing in here,” he says, his tone low enough to make you shiver a bit. You didn’t hate the idea. You were pretty sure anywhere the two of you chose would be worth your time, but the bathroom was… well lit. He’d see every inch of you and you were pretty sure he hadn’t yet.

“Are you sure?” you check in, half hoping he’ll change his mind for some reason.

“Yeah I’m sure. I think it’ll be fun,” he nods, but stops when he notices your hesitation, “unless you’re not cool with it?”

“No! I’m okay with it! I just was thinking we’ve never really done anything with so much, you know, light and stuff,” you blush, looking down at your feet then and feeling a little silly for your admission.

Cole reaches out to tilt your chin back up towards him, “I’ll let you call this shot.”

And you agree. You end up losing your footing a couple times, he has to hold your waist almost always, and you can’t help but laugh at the awful noises that are being made at an awful volume in the tiled area. It’s simultaneously the worst yet most fun sex the two of you had dealt with yet. It takes longer than normal to finish for you both so you’re exhausted by the time you both lean on each other to catch your breath.

“Wonder what time it is by now,” you mumble, cheek pressed against his chest as you hug his waist tight.

He looks down and leans to kiss your forehead so gently you can’t breathe suddenly, “probably pretty late. Did you just want to spend the night?”

You sigh and try to step away but his arms hold you tightly in place. You give him a look, trying to remind him that you both know better than to even think about doing that. This was still just a hookup. Or at least it was supposed to be.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you sigh, leaning your cheek back onto his chest to listen to his heartbeat rather than catching his stare.

“You’re right,” he agrees, but he doesn’t sound very convincing.

He carefully slips from your arms and out of the shower, grabbing his own towel before searching for an extra for you. He shuts the shower off and wraps the towel tightly around you, giving you another forehead kiss. He was really pushing boundaries for the night and you were struggling to keep saying no.

You both dress in silence, but it’s far from awkward. You can see the tension is gone in his shoulders and he just looks exhausted now. You’re still determined to leave and keep things casual, but if you weren’t, you’d have him wrapped in your arms in his bed while you played with his hair. Luckily, or maybe not, you’d never know that was struggling not to think of the same thing.

He catches you by surprise yet again that night when he kisses you at the front door. He usually played it cool and acted unattached in any of the common spaces but tonight was much different. You had so many thoughts in your head from the way he was treating you and you knew you needed to go.

A quick goodbye and one more fast kiss, or you wouldn’t leave, and you were walking a little quicker than usual to the elevator. Maybe it was time to start telling him no. You laugh at your own thoughts immediately. You were way too gone for him to ever do that.

—

‘Let me know when you land and I’ll get ready’

You stare at the words that you’d texted, wondering if you blacked out when you sent them. You can’t take it back, unfortunately, and you’re left with the gnawing feeling that you shouldn’t have done it. Cole was always the one to ask you over.

“You sent him what?” Your roommate asks, her eyes wide as she leans over your shoulder to read it, “oh my god, are you in love with him or something?”

“What? No!” You yell back, but truthfully you weren’t sure about that, “I just figured I’d check in with him first? I don’t know, I guess I just thought I’d get the ball rolling earlier today.”

Your face feels hot to the touch as you press your hand against your cheek. You know you must look like a lost puppy because your roommate wraps her arms around you immediately, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Just be careful, okay? I know you have fun when you’re with him, but boys suck. You can’t trust him.”

You swallow hard and nod, knowing she was telling the truth. You nod as a silent agreement and tell yourself you need to start pulling away. It’s not that you want to. You always enjoy being with Cole. It’s more that you need to.

Cole turns his phone on once the flight lands. A few messages popping up right away. He’s about to ignore them all when he sees your name ding on the screen right before he can lock it. He feels a little tug in his chest as he reads the words you’d sent him. He tries to shrug the feeling off but the smack on his shoulder grounds him more than anything.

Brock stares at him, an almost knowing look on his face, “is that who I think it is? I thought you were the one who always reached out first.”

“I mean, I usually am. This is a first,” Cole says, looking back down at the message that has his face quickly turning up in a smile.

“You know this isn’t a good idea,” Brock mumbles as he gives his little brother a side eye, “when are you going to stop playing with her emotions and make a decision? Because it sure looks like you’re getting your own feelings involved at this point, too.”

“I’m sure she just sent it because she knows by now. We practically have a routine at this point so she’s really not out of line or anything,” Cole justifies, starting to type out a message right away.

Brock laughs a little before standing to get off the plane, “just don’t come crying to me when things go wrong because you two wouldn’t talk about things and one of you ends up heartbroken. Or both of you.”

Cole sighs and tries to shake off the words from his brother because honestly, he knew what Brock was saying was the truth. He’d always said he wasn’t going to get into anything serious because everything until the NHL was just a short-term stay. He hadn’t listened to that rule in high school though and so far he was having a hard time listening to it at college as well. Despite the advice from his brother he texts you back, wanting to just go with what made him feel good.

‘Don’t be late’

He throws a winking emoji on at the end, quickly softening the formerly demanding message. You nearly choke on your own breath when it comes in on your phone. You’d spent the last half hour pacing your apartment and overthinking the worst case scenarios that could come from your choice to text him first. You’re surprised that he’s so casual about it, if you’re being honest, but you chalk it up to it being a routine thing that you guys did after his games. It’s all you need to hear though and you finish getting ready while trying not to think too hard about what it meant that you were both showing a desire to be together.

Cole barely drops his backpack down in his room when his phone lights up. He smiles subconsciously and opens your message as he’s walking back towards the front door. Brock happens to be walking in the opposite direction and gives Cole a solid shove on his shoulder, mumbling something about how soft Cole was getting. He ignores the comment and pulls the front door open quickly, looking over at you.

“Well look who it is. Get over here,” he says, directing his smile at you.

You blush when you see how happy he looks and it makes your stomach flutter. That couldn’t be a good sign, but you can’t help it. You walk over and lean in, testing to see where the boundaries were that day. He leans down easily, kissing you gently, and making your brain go haywire. He’d never done that in the common space. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours and giving a little squeeze as he takes the familiar path to his room. You were pretty sure you could walk the apartment with your eyes closed by now and you mark another little red flag in your head. They were tallying up faster and faster lately.

“You split the series, huh?” you ask, needing to break the silence with something to stop your thoughts from scrambling any longer.

Cole grins back at you, “yeah, they were decent so I’m glad we got that first win yesterday. Is that what it takes to get you to text first? A split?”

You can hear the teasing in his voice and it makes you blush, leaning your forehead on his arm, “stop, I thought you were back already. I didn’t mean to text early.”

He laughs, kissing your forehead and shutting the door behind him, “it’s okay. I didn’t mind it. We do kind of have that routine by now.”

“Yeah, we kind of do, huh? I just didn’t want to step over any lines with it,” you mumble, looking down where your hands are still connected.

“You didn’t,” he says quietly, grabbing your other hand and putting them on the back of his neck so he can wrap his arms around your waist, “don’t be afraid to do it again.”

You can’t form any words, opting to give him a little nod as your fingers play with the curls at the nape of his neck instead. He kisses you then and it takes your breath away. It feels like more than the ones you’d had before and maybe that was from his confession that he didn’t mind hearing from you whenever you pleased, but it’s a lot. In fact, the whole night is a lot.

He takes his time once he lays you down, picking you apart and finding every soft spot on your body. It isn’t rushed and aggressive like the hook ups usually were and you both were well aware of what you were doing. You even take a chance, tracing a bruise on his side with kisses to see if he’d let you. Usually he took charge and did things his way, but he lets you do what you want, making him whine and squirm like you’d never seen. You’re both exhausted by the time you’re done. You’d spent time, and for once, a lot of emotion on each other that wasn’t how things used to be. He pulls you against his chest after as he gently dances his fingers up and down your back.

“Same thing next weekend?” he jokes, getting a laugh out of you instantly. The sound makes the tug in his chest come back and he tries to push it away.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you say and pretend to think about it, “what if I have other plans or you guys win both games?”

“Why don’t you text first again and we’ll see what happens?”

You bite your lip and start to sit up, knowing you needed to leave before you got too tired or lost your willpower to tell him no. Cole frowns immediately and you catch the look right away, teasing him, “you aren’t so tough after all, are you, Caufield?”

“Just stay,” he says, his tone low enough to make your stomach flip as he catches your wrist, “you already broke your rules once today. Do it again.”

You toss the idea around in your head, knowing this would go much farther than it should. It would step over so many lines, but your composure wasn’t very good around him anymore. You nod, leaning down to kiss him before settling back against his chest. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your temple. You hate how happy you feel with him as you remember all the red flags he’d given you in the past. You close your eyes and just try to relax. Next time you’d discuss what was going on. That was one promise you wanted to keep for yourself.

You and Cole go silent for the rest of the week after spending the night, but that was normal. You two didn’t talk any other time and you didn’t reach out unless it was after a game to sleep together. Still it manages to nag at you and you kick yourself. You caught feelings. You should have known better and cut things off weeks ago when you’d first started to get butterflies. Now it was too late and you knew you needed to have the ‘what is this’ talk with him sooner rather than later. You couldn’t keep wasting your time on someone who wasn’t going to stick around. You manage to make it through the week without reaching out to him, saving the interaction in case they lost their games that weekend and you’d inevitably hear from him then.

Except they win.

Except he texts you immediately after the game with a message you’d never gotten from him.

‘Can we talk tonight?’

Your heart hammers in your chest as you read the four words over and over and over again. They’re burned into your memory by the time you look up, realizing your eyes had begun to tear up. You knew you needed to talk but you weren’t ready for the request to come from him. You send back a thumbs up emoji, not knowing how to string together any words that would make sense. You go on autopilot after that as you play through every possible situation that could come from this.

Realistically it could either go really well or really poorly. He could say he also had feelings for you and that he wanted to make things work. Or, the worst option, he could tell you he didn’t have any feelings and he was done hooking up for good. You run through both options until your mind goes static and you have to force yourself out of the shower that’s run cold from being in it so long. You go through the motions of getting yourself to his place and sending the ‘here’ message that was customary at this point.

When he opens the door he doesn’t give you a smile, but waves you over. Neither of you go for a kiss and the air feels heavy around you both. It does nothing to calm your nerves or the churning in your stomach. You knew you weren’t there for a hookup that night, that much was obvious. It’s Brock standing in the living room that surprises you most. You catch his gaze and the soft, almost apologetic, smile he gives you sends you into overdrive. What the hell was going on?

With a hand on the small of your back, Cole ushers you towards the one room that usually offered privacy and relief, but this time it looked like a death sentence prison cell. His hand feels hot on your back and not in the good way that it used to. You lean against his desk when you get in there, immediately crossing your arms across your chest to get away from him. He shuts the doors softly and shoves his hands in his pockets as he stands in front of you. He still has his game suit on, minus the jacket, and you let yourself look. He looks ridiculously handsome and you commit the image to memory, having a feeling this was the one and only time you’d be getting that view.

“Would you just tell me already?” you whisper, knowing that the worst was coming.

He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, nodding, “I don’t want to hurt you. I really don’t. It’s exactly why I’ve always said we can’t make promises to each other.”

You frown at him, “so then don’t. It’s literally that simple.”

“It’s not though,” he says with a little laugh, “I already made my promises to someone else.”

Your blood runs cold at that and you realize you hadn’t thought of one very awful possibility of why he wanted to talk. He had someone else already. Your throat feels so tight that it’s hard to breathe and you try to suck in a deep breath that doesn’t help at all. You shake your head and tighten your arms more across your chest, praying it helps hold your heart together for just a little longer.

“Who is she?”

He hangs his head like this entire thing isn’t his own fault, “we were together in high school and now we go to separate schools. I didn’t want to hold her back but I don’t know how to let her go either.”

“So you’re a cheater,” you spit out, tears falling fast before you can even try and hold them back, “you’re cheating on her and I’m the other girl. What the fuck is wrong with you, Cole?”

“It’s not cheating!” he tries to justify, holding his hands up and stepping closer to you, “we’re not official right now.”

You push him back, hand firm on his chest to give yourself space, “fuck you. You’re as official as you can be and you still slept with me for the last four months. You knew what you were doing and you didn’t care. You didn’t have her here so you found a good substitute. That’s awesome, thanks for fucking up my life and emotions in the process.”

“Stop, I told you I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s why I’m being honest right now.”

“Honest?” you raise your voice, well aware that Brock could probably hear everything at this point, “you call this honest? You’re a liar and a cheater, Cole Caufield! I can’t believe I let you play me for this long.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I swear I didn’t mean for this to be the way it is,” he says, practically pleading at this point.

You shake your head, bottom lip wobbling as much as your voice, “you broke my heart. Are you happy with that? Was everything a joke to you? Sleeping together, forehead kisses, holding hands, spending the night? Or did you just picture her the whole time and I was just a stand in?”

“No,” he mumbles, trying to reach for you, but you smack his hand away and start to back yourself towards his door, “I swear it was real with you. I didn’t mean to take it so far but I started to like you, too.”

“You are unbelievable. I can’t believe I let you in so easily. I hate you.”

He swallows around a lump that appears in his throat suddenly. This wasn’t at all how he’d planned things. They were never supposed to go this far with you, but he couldn’t let you go. He couldn’t but now he had to. He had no options anymore and he would probably lose everyone in the process.

“I promise I will hate you for the rest of my life,” you whisper, cheeks wet with tears despite your best efforts to try and rid yourself of them before you left. He didn’t deserve to know how much he was breaking you.

You rip open his door and all but run out of the apartment. Brock catches your gaze from the living room as you open their front door. Immediately his heart breaks a little. He knew the entire time and never saved you from this. He was just as guilty as his brother was. Cole stays frozen in place where you’d left him in his room, heart hurting despite everything. He’d let you keep your promise about hating him. That was one he deserved to carry with him.

#cole caufield #mine #my writing #wisconsin hockey #usa hockey #team usa #hockey fic #college hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #if you know him pls leave lol

165 notes · View notes

kagehinataboke · 4 years

Note

you probably think this is too fast bc i think you just posted that prompt list, but in my defense, i missed you, okay? your writing is awesome! can you do "say my name" "louder" with tdbk? :c

awww you missed me? ;-; thank you sm anon hnghhh, it’s good to be back again at least with the plague i’m less busy now ig

“say my name” “louder” — tdbk

smut below the cut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

***

It didn’t start out this way. Really, it didn’t. They had behaved like normal rivals—and by that, Katsuki means that they were constantly at each other’s throats. After a while, that turned into a tentative friendship. Things only started to change once Kaminari decided to hijack the pool. Students don’t have free use of the swimming facilities, so—of course—Kaminari and Ashido came up with the brilliant idea to sneak in after hours and throw a party.

Katsuki was against it for obvious reasons. He tried and tried to convince the morons to give up, but you can’t fix stupid. Instead of stopping them, he resigned himself to tag along and keep them from getting themselves expelled or arrested. That, in essence, is how he ended up here.

The night‘s been fine so far. Or, as fine as a disaster can be. Most of 1-A is here, other than the obvious rule-followers—Iida and Yaoyorozu. (And Mineta, but he wasn’t invited in the first place.)

Tsuyu, Deku, and Uraraka are in the shallow end tossing around a beach ball and splashing each other like preschoolers. Ashido and Kaminari are playing a game of poolside blackjack that‘s getting a bit too rowdy. Everyone else is absorbed in a volleyball match, girls vs. boys. The only person still missing from the equation is Todoroki. He definitely came: Katsuki remembers seeing his stupid hair over by the locker room earlier.

“I’ll be right back,” Katsuki tells Jirou, who’s serving as the volleyball ref. She gives him a thumbs up before turning to shout at Tokoyami for making a faulty pass.

Katsuki trudges across the wet cement and into the silent rec facility, his footsteps squelching against the tile floor. The locker rooms are in the back corner, about as far from the water as you can get. If Todoroki is in there, he must be sitting in total darkness. (Ashido and Kaminari agreed that if they turned on the lights, they’d definitely get caught.)

Inside the locker room, Katsuki’s footsteps echo even louder. He passes between the sets of dusty blue lockers and approaches the showers. Todoroki is sitting against the far wall, staring through the window at the full moon. Weirdo.

“What the fuck are you even doing?”

Todoroki jumps. He turns to look at Katsuki, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Oh, it’s just you.” He hugs his knees to his chest. “I needed some quiet.”

“You and me both,” Katsuki grumbles, sliding down the wall beside him. “I never should’ve come to this stupid fucking thing. Half of me wants to turn them in.”

“But you’d be an accomplice,” Todoroki points out.

“Yeah.” Katsuki sighs and tilts his head back. After a moment of silence, he twists his neck to look at Todoroki. “Were you just going to sit alone in the dark? That’s fucking creepy. Unless you came in here to do something else.”

“Like what?” Todoroki frowns. He’s always slow to pick up on jokes.

“Like jerk off. I wouldn’t put it past you, Half n’ Half.” Katsuki snickers. “Actually, I take it back: You’re too fucking uptight for that kind of thing. Looking at your dumbass face, I can’t imagine you having a sex drive.”

“I do,” Todoroki protests with a scowl. “And it’s quite good, in case you were wondering.”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki feels like they’re not close enough to be having this kind of conversation, but it’s satisfying to see Todoroki’s composure crack. “Do it then.”

Todoroki freezes. “Do… it…?” he repeats slowly.

This is too easy. Katsuki is nearly choking on suppressed laughter.

“Jerk off. Go on, whip it out.” He makes a fapping motion for good measure. The childish action is worth it to see Todoroki’s face go red.

“…You can’t be serious.”

“I won’t believe you unless you do it.”

Todoroki shakes his head. He seems to think for a moment, and then sighs. “Fine. I suppose it can’t be helped.”

In an instant, all humor evaporates from the situation. Before Katsuki can clarify that he was indeed joking and that the last thing he wants to see is Todoroki rubbing one out, he’s already got his dick in hand.

Katsuki’s throat goes dry. He should’ve expected this, in hindsight: Todoroki is definitely petty enough to whip it out to prove a point. Unfortunately, right now, all he can do is deal with his karmic punishment: Todoroki has a huge dick. Go figure. The more his hand moves, the bigger it gets.

Christ. How can he do this in front of someone else? Katsuki can’t even bring himself to jerk off where someone might hear him, let alone with someone watching. Todoroki’s not even being shy about it. His head’s tilted back and he keeps biting his lip, which does little to stifle his heavy breathing and slight moans.

He’s not stopping. He’s actually going to finish. Are you serious?

“Stop.” Katsuki reaches out to grab his wrist without thinking: His first mistake.

Todoroki looks at him. Making eye contact with him is Katsuki’s second mistake. They stare at each other, the air between them full of Todoroki’s shaky breaths. For what feels like an eternity, they just sit there. Then, when Katsuki’s hand twitches, Todoroki groans.

Something in the air between them cracks. Katsuki pushes Todoroki’s shoulder into the wall and kisses him. He isn’t sure why he does it, but when Todoroki opens his mouth in a gasp of surprise, it’s all over. Katsuki shifts closer, pushing his tongue into the open space. Instead of pushing him away, Todoroki moans into his mouth.

Katsuki tries to move his hand before he remembers where it is. Todoroki moans again; a deep, gutteral sound. He pushes Katsuki back, pinning him against the tiled floor. He jerks Katsuki’s shorts and boxers down in a single movement, cutting off his protest with a deep, invasive kiss.

He deserves this. This is what he gets for being an asshole. The worst part is, Katsuki actually likes it. A lot.

Todoroki’s hand slowly moves down Katsuki’s dick from shaft to base. (It’s already rock hard: that much is easy to tell without looking.) His fingers twitch, and Katsuki groans. Todoroki pulls back, licking his lips to break the trail of saliva linking their mouths. His eyes are hazy with desire.

“Why…” Katsuki pauses to get his breath back. “Why did you stop?”

“Sorry.” Todoroki smirks, as if he was waiting for the question. He sits up, pulling Katsuki into his lap in a single smooth movement. ”I’ll keep going.”

Before Katsuki can protest, Todoroki presses their dicks together and starts moving his hand. Katsuki throws his head back. He rocks his hips into the movement, biting his lip until he can’t hold back his voice. “Fuck, fuck…!”

“My first name,” Todoroki says, breath hot against Katsuki’s neck. “Say it. Say my name.”

It takes Katsuki a moment to force the word out. “…Shou…to.”

Todoroki’s hand moves faster in response. “Louder.”

“Shouto…!” Katsuki cries out in pleasure with the final, euphoric twitch of Todoroki’s fingers. He slumps against his chest, gasping for air and shuddering. He’s still riding out the waves of ecstasy when Todoroki’s hand starts moving again.

“Wa…wait,” Katsuki protests. “I just came, I can’t—“

Todoroki ignores him. Much to Katsuki’s horror, his dick is up again. Todoroki’s too. Katsuki didn’t even know it was possible to get hard this quickly after cumming. It feels so good that it almost hurts. The more he listens to Todoroki’s ragged breathing, the more he loses his mind.

Katsuki gets the feeling this is going to cause a lot of problems…

#some of you may say this is ooc but if you dont think todo is the type of person to whip it out to make a point then ur lying to urself #not a full sex scene bc i wanted to play around a bit #hope you enjoy anon #calla.txt #todobaku #tdbk #mha #bnha #answered asks

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witcher-ot3 · 3 years

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List of Iorveth/Roche WiPs

Because somethings I like to torment myself by showing how many fucking things I’m working on. Doesn’t help that lately, I’ve started a new WiP every time I get stuck in another fic. So, in no particular order (literally just how the tabs are ordered in my window lmao), here are all my Iorveth/Roche WiPs

2 fics in the Petals and Stripes ‘verse - one with Roche’s POV straight after and one of the Stripes’ POV as they deal with the aftermath... and try to help their boss woo Iorveth. Surprising no one, they’re terrible at it.

Curse breaking WiP where True Love’s Kiss strong emotion for one’s enemy saves Iorveth’s life. And then he, Roche, and Triss team up to go save the Scoia’tael.

Roche’s POV WiP set before they first meet. Includes some nice knife and blood kink during a face off between Iorveth and Roche. No idea where this one is going.

Eye On You Chapter 3, for which the plan is thigh-fucking. That’s it, that’s all I got.

Fake dating casefic (The Curious Case of the Murivel Resort for Couples). rn they’re playing strip gwent and I somehow signed up to write 5 different gwent games for this 😢

Competitive makeouts (The Chase) rn they’re spiderman kissing, but there’s gonna be a conspiracy plot that Iorveth has to reveal.

New ‘verse involving Iorveth/Roche/Kayran and Roche/Foltest lmao. First WiP is Roche running into Iorveth during his monthly fuckdate with the Kayran... and then joining in. Second WiP is a comparison of Roche’s two relationships and how they make him feel. For some reason, I framed it around the Chivalric Virtues from Blood & Wine and made it a 5+1 lol

Pining and Poignards, a WiP in which there is pining and stabbing lol. A poignard is a type of knife, which Iorveth generously “gifts” to Roche. rn Iorveth is sneaking around the army base and has just caught Roche masturbating. I...only sort of know where I’m going with this one.

Tittyfucking. That’s it, that’s the plot lmao. Iorveth is a lil obsessed with Roche’s chest and attempts to fuck it.

Gross Gremlin Man aka Iorveth prefers Roche nasty and sweaty. Uh... I just started this one and somehow it went from “huh, why do I not mind Roche when he’s all sweaty” to “hmm, I think I’m gonna steal his clothes and smell them while I touch myself” and I’m still working on the transition from one to the other lol

Red is the Rose Chapters 3+4 - Ch3 is about ready for posting, but I’m trying to figure out how much of the events of W2 to cover or if I should just skip all of them and get to the post-W2 plot.

Fun fact: all of those WiPs above are in 1 document because I like to make life difficult for Google Docs. But the other docs are all specific ‘verses (or themes) and these ones are theoretically standalone. Theoretically.

More standalones

Letters - a post-W3 WiP where Roche is running Temeria and hates it and starts receiving letters from Iorveth (sealed with a forget me not in wax).

WiP where they both get captured and imprisoned in a magic cell and whoops, sex ends up happening... and then their teams come rescue them.

Cuddles with the Commander - continuation of Pride of Temeria, where Roche wakes up cuddled up with Pillow Tits and his team.

Fire Breathing - a Meet the Family WiP where Iorveth is hanging with the Stripes and PT decides to demonstrate how to breathe fire. Iorveth is more than slightly freaked out that humans have this ability.

Iorveth gangbang - uh yeah, what it says on the tin. The Blue Stripes take Iorveth apart under Roche’s guidance.

Different first meeting identity porn WiP - they meet in Flotsam just as the Scoia’tael is starting to get formed. Neither knows who the other is, but they have amazing sex and every time they’re in Flotsam together, they meet up again. But Iorveth, of course, leads the Scoia’tael, and Roche has been tasked with hunting them down.

Crones WiP - Roche went to the Crones to plead for his men back. He gets them back - but as ghosts. He also gets assigned to help work on a cure to the Catriona plague, and it turns out one of the people already working on it is Iorveth. I literally just want Blue Stripes ghosts laughing at Roche’s bad flirting, but somehow it’s mostly angst rn ooops

Love Shack WiPs

First Time WiP - this one is so close to being done dammit. It’s actually the first WiP I ever started for this pairing and it just needs like 2 more orgasms aaaaahhhhhh

Medicine WiP - morning after their first time, they have a discussion about scars and medicine and how elven medicine is way better than human medicine. Not at all based on the billions of medical procedures I’m going through or anything.

PWP Ovi WiP - uh yeah, this one is just pure porn. rn Iorveth is giving Roche his eggs and Roche is loving it.

The Picture Says It All - next is gonna be a sketch of Roche hard at work hunched over a desk and Iorveth is all “no, this is wrong, he’s meant to be wielding a sword and fighting me”

The Haunting of Barrack 8B - Adda!! Adda is officially getting introduced in the next part, which is good, ‘cause she’s important in this ‘verse (and in my heart)

Roche builds Iorveth a home WiP - oh yeah, I stalled out because I realized I had to establish Roche and Rinn’s friendship before she could give him a hint about making a nest for Iorveth

Long Live the King - WiP about Roche’s relationship with Foltest, some of what he’s done for the King, how Iorveth feels about it, and then the big finale for this ‘verse, which I will leave secret for now.

Don’t Cry For Me, Temeria WiPs These are only the ones that have actual WiPs started, because believe me, I have a LOT more ideas

(Im)Perfect Strangers ch 27 - time for Roche to step up his wooing. Featuring dinner, dancing, and gift giving. And, of course, it wouldn’t be me without misunderstandings lol.

Between Two Fools Ch 8 - I’m working on getting this out as soon as I can. Just gotta finish writing their sex from the end of (Im)Perfect Strangers ch 26

Unlucky Number Thirteen - I want to write about how he starts spying for Roche and their developing kinda mentorship relationship

Silas’s story - he’s literally JUST joined the Stripes and I need to write how he and Thirteen work closely together but also this poor anxious boy is like 3 seconds from a heart attack at all times rn. It will get better tho.

Earning Your Stripes ch 2 - the first time. This chap will actually have porn! But first I gotta finish writing it lol. Rn Ves and Finch are double teaming Fenn and PT and Thirteen are in subspace cuddling with Roche, but soon they’ll get to join in too.

break (v /brāk/): to destroy someone's resistance - cnc WiP where Iorveth asks Roche to break him - and Roche has a lot of fun doing so as they pretend to fight like they’re still enemies.

Bath House - this was SUPPOSED to be a porny lil thing where Roche talks dirty to Iorveth while they’re stuck being proper for the kids, and then finally they get some alone time. But what it also turned into is that Anais and Thirteen equally hate baths lmao. Boussy loves them tho. He’s a hedonist, while Anais is just bored and Thirteen is like a cat with water.

Tutti Ch 2 - Iorveth begins to compose a symphony for Roche about their love story.

Daggers, Dumplings, and Dresses - the Elihal/Hattori side story. Not gotten much written so far - mostly just Elihal reflecting on his friendship with Iorveth.

The First Rule of Fight Club ch 2 - Ves now has time to think about what Ciaran said about Roche not being worthy of her loyalty. And also about how Ciaran’s skin tasted when she bit him.

Dragonfucking - another PWP WiP featuring a threesome with Saskia... except Roche still doesn’t know about the whole dragon thing, so he’s in for a surprise.

Water Balloon Fight - silly lil WiP where the Scoia’tael and the Blue Stripes have a water balloon fight. PT is the ref.

Baby Mama - lmao yes that is what it’s listed as in my doc. Not gonna say a lot about this, but will probably be a longer piece. Set in the distant future in DCfM,T.

Tempt Not a Desperate Man ‘verse Yeah, does anyone know what this is? It’s the ‘verse that started with Devour What’s Truly Yours and so far has nothing else published oops

Part 2 - in which they actually have to face each other again and figure out where they stand. And then there’s some fisting.

The Chaperon - Iorveth decides to make Roche a chaperon since the last one was sacrificed as a cum rag

Human Bootlicker - Iorveth makes a joke about Roche surrendering on his knees when he gets the upper hand in a fight between the Blue Stripes and the Scoia’tael - and then Roche actually does.

Elven Baths - so it’s kinda a thing in this ‘verse that they end up meeting and fucking in the elven baths in the Flotsam forest. As in, the legend about “if you’re in love, you can still hear the lovers’ sighs in the garden” came to being because Roche is fucking loud lmao. Also, roses of remembrance. 😉

Sort of series fics, but technically stand alone. AKA apparently I decided I wanted to do Themes.

Theme 1: Possessiveness aka all the kinky sex kinda embarrassed to admit to these which is dumb because fuck shame

Piss fic - uh, kinda what it sounds like? Roche decides to be an asshole and refuses to move out of the way when Iorveth tries to get to the bathroom - and somehow this turns into Iorveth pissing on his crotch.

Come inflation + piss fic - Roche gets a potion that makes him come a lot. Iorveth likes it and wants more.

Possessiveness - Iorveth has feelings about his nemesis and Roche does not know how to feel about this.

Tentacles + Breeding - a tentacle/vine plant instinctively tries to lay its eggs in Roche. Iorveth is not okay with this plant going for his enemy... until it turns out Roche is very much here for it. And also for Iorveth fertilizing the eggs after they’ve been laid.

Dream - Roche dreams about Iorveth being an elven king and himself being essentially Iorveth’s plaything, to use and to show off

Theme 2: King Roche aka hey, wouldn’t it be funny if he ended up in charge? He would hate it so much

Murder husbands - Iorveth breaks into the palace and finds the very unhappy “King” Roche, then they go run away and kill war criminals together. But of course Roche could never abandon Temeria, so he’s still in charge by day. But by night, it’s murder time.

Okay, technically this has like a line written for it, BUT bodyguard AU where Roche knows he’s gonna get assassinated without protection once he becomes king, and only Iorveth is allowed to kill him. So only makes since for Iorveth to become his bodyguard.

Arranged Marriage AU - inspired by softestpunk’s The Gift, I literally just want cracky fun where they are forced to get married and they hate it but also fall in love. That’s it, that’s the story.

Holy fuck, I have a lot of WiPs. But I think that’s all the Iorveth/Roche ones. Which is not to say I don’t have more, but rn, I am hyperfixated on these idiots, so these are the ones I am actively writing.

#rorveth #iorveth x roche #the witcher #the witcher 2 #long post #My fic

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stressed-depressed-emo-mess · 4 years

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Janus & Adam

((Okkkkk so I threw this together with some OCs, it does kinda rip off Detroit Become Human but I just love my boys Marcus and Conner to much to not do something like this. For @killjoynest here’s a exterminator and his droid who may or may not be gay i dunno. And yes Janus is a ref. to TS, I needed a name so shush))

Dracs | Droids

"Adam?? Adam!?!" Janus Holden calls for his helper droid, Adam, from across the house. Janus, who was a semi-famous S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W stationed in the neon district, was an up-and-coming exterminator who was mainly put in charge of in city operations- droids and the occasional burnout- nothing to fancy. He had recently been gifted a prototype droid from HQ; apparently it did everything another human could, but faster and more efficient. It was called Adam, and the directions that came along with it said that there were no emotions, no consciousness, no sense of self-awareness. Janus always had a hard time calling droids “it”; they remained him of actual people, and that what he always told his supervisors when accused of “feeling emotion.” Janus hated that. The ‘You can’t feel emotion’ aura over everything. It made killing easier, but if he got used to treating the droids like shit, it would rub off on actual people. He didn’t want to do that. He had started treating Adam like a regular human being and it was making himself a lot happier. Adam, who he just used ‘they/them’ for, also seemed more eager to help than their counterparts in other households. Janus also made an effort to clean up after himself just to ensure that Adam didn’t have to do everything themselves. At the moment, Janus was trying to cook himself some breakfast but that ended up on the floor everywhere. Janus turns off the stove and grabs some towels and rags before Adam rushes in, a scared look on their face which slowly melts into amusement.

“Mr. Holden, you tired to cook again, didn’t you” they smile.

“Yes, Adam, I did. And how many times must I ask you to call me Janus? I see you as an equal.” he says playfully, tossing a towel over in their direction. “Can you help me?”

“Well, that’s what I was designed to do, Mr. H- Janus.”

Janus’s smile grows wider and looks up to Adam as they drop beside him and they both start to clean up the pancakes and eggs that have taken up residence on the floor.

“Hey, Adam? Do you use plus at all?” he asks

“Well, all droids do. We don’t have an alternative power source. But to answer your question directly; yes. I wish I didn’t, but yes. I do.” the say, with a pretty emotionally charged sigh.

“Adam? Is there- Are you ok?”

“I’m broken,” they say immediately, “I’ve known for a while. I’m not supposed to be able to think for myself. I’m only supposed to take orders and answer questions related to them. Since you’ve been asking me more about me; as in, ‘What do you want to do?’ and ‘Do you want me to help you?’ and ‘What do you think about this?’; I think my consciousness snapped to reality, and I’ve been learning- you’ve been unknowingly teaching me things. And I understand if you want to throw me out, I just couldn’t hide this from you.” they sit back on their heels, looking like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders.

Janus sets his jaw and looks at Adam, saying, “Adam. I would never throw you out. I am so happy that you told me. You are not broken, this is normal. While we’re on the subject of self-consciousness, do you want me to use a different name, pronouns, or something like that?”

“Haha! I’ve actually never even thought about that!! I guess Adam still, but maybe he/him?? I want to be able to fit in as much as possible.”

“I can do that.” Janus smiles and puts a hand on Adam’s shoulder before turning back to cleaning up the floor. “Do you, like, want to go for a walk and talk after we finish cleaning this up? I want to be able to get to know you more. But- we’re gonna have to get you changed. We can have my new best friend walking around in that.” Adam looked like he was going to explode; he was practically glowing with happiness.

As they finish cleaning up, Janus leads Adam into his closet to see if any of his suits will fit him. Of course, Adam shifts his proportions so he fits in the first suit he tries on. He points to a certain outfit on a coat hanger, and when Janus retrieves it, he flashes back to the first day with Adam. He was wearing the same gold silk shirt under the cream-colored blazer. He hands the shirt and jacket to Adam he excitedly puts them on, complete with some black pants and a pair of old converse; which all fit Adam snugly.

“You know what that outfit is, right?” Janus asks Adam, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Of course I do, silly! How could I forget??” Adam says, booping Janus on the tip of his nose. Janus can feel his ears start to burn and he looks away, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face. “Are we ready to go?” Adam asks.

“Almost, I wanted to do something- only if you want to though,” Janus says, digging through a draw and drawing out some gold spray-on hair dye. He had originally bought it for a costume party, but it matched the shirt perfectly. Adam stares wide-eyed and vigorously nods his head, so Janus puts his hand under Adam’s brown bangs to shield his skin from the dye. Janus sprayed two streaks onto Adam’s hair, before turning to the mirror and giving himself matching streaks. He was wearing a navy blue suit and a black shirt, but the gold spray worked well with his already blond hair in bringing the outfit together. “Now we’re ready,” Janus says with a smile, “Are you?”

“Yeah! Let’s go!!” Adam says, grabbing Janus by the arm and dragging him out the closet, into the hallway, and out of the house. Janus turns around to go and lock the doors when he hears a window crashing in a house down the street. He and Adam give each other a look, and while Janus turns back to lock the doors Adam runs out into the street to see who caused the shattering. Then he heard another window breaking, and trash cans being knocked over. Janus runs out to meet Adam, who’s watching the events unfold down the street; it’s another homecoming parade. Adam waves to a few of the Juvvie halls- who wave back- and Janus can’t help himself. He waves at them as well, putting his arm around Adam as he does it to try and seem as friendly as possible so he wouldn’t get a brick through one of his windows.

“We could join them,” Adam says in his ear.

Janus turns to him, bewildered, and says, “We could… We really could… I’m not a revolutionary exterminator so people wouldn’t know who I am, and now that you’re with me, we really could… You know, Adam, I wouldn’t even be entertaining the thought if it had been anyone else bringing this up. Do you want to?”

“Again with asking me what I want. You really hate working here don’t you?” Adam said a knowing smile painted on his face, and Janus can’t help but bark out a laugh.

“What is it with you and making me question everything I know?? C’mon, ya big goof, let’s get outta here.”

#zone five quarantine fair #Holy fuck they're gay jeez #danger days #ttlotfk #I also might use them for the day seven fic...#I have ideas.......#oooo ok yeah this could work

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shikai-the-storyteller · 4 years

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CYBERVERSE WATCH: S3 Episode 13, 14, 15, 16

Episode 13

MACCADAM IS MY GRANDPA NOW

Jetfire!!! And Skybite!!! Skybite’s got a great laugh

Oh wow the cloaking still protects them? Nice!

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE FIX PERCY’S EYES, WHERE THE FRICK IS RATCHET

A MULTIVERSE DRIVE???

PLEASE...PLEASE LET US SEE OTHER UNIVERSES??? OTHER UNIVERSES PLEASE????

SPARE SOME MULTIVERSE STUFF FOR A POOR SOUL???

I mean as it stands, the fact that Cyberverse is talking about this stuff is more than satisfying, man I frickin love this show

“We can launch those squiggly things into a whole ‘nother universe!” his delivery of that line was so good and also Wheeljack pls, then it’ll be another version of you’s problem

MEGATRON REALLY *IS* POUTING, MEGATRON YOU BIG BABY

Maccadam fondly but watching them talk about their battle plans makes me feel so bad for him...

AW MAN IS MEGATRON GONNA CHUCK OPTIMUS INTO A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE

About time you showed up you big pouting pansy

Man these two totally were ex boyfriends

LMAO ARCEE AND SHADOW-STRIKER’S EVIL LAUGHS, THAT”S SO DELIGHTFUL

That Titan should just smack them out of the sky tbh

SKULLCRUNCHER THE CROC...NICE

I love that Soundwave and Roddy are manning the controls

“Commanders command. And you forget, we have backup” CUTE...CUTE....CUTE!!!

I’M SO PROUD OF MY BOYS!!!!!!

BEE!!!It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! I love my little yellow boy!!! Please take care of your dad Bee

OH NO IT”S CREEPY TENTACLE DOCTOR

GOTH GIRL AND PREP GIRL!!!

MAN I JUST KNOW SOMETHING’S GOING TO GO HORRIFICALLY WRONG HERE

FRICK NOT THIS DUDE AGAIN

AW MAN NOT A WHOLE BUNCH AT ONCE

YEAAAHHHHH WHEELJACK AND MEGATRON WORKING TOGETHER!!! NICE

Two Decepticons and one Autobot...not a good sign

Oh shoot it’s the DECEPTICONS who wanna universe-jump, MEGATRON COME ON DUDE YOU DIDN’T EVEN TAKE YOUR ARMY WITH YOU DUMMY

OH NO!!!!!!

“It’s time for the commanders to join the battle” MAN YOU’RE SO COOL RODDY (YOU TOO SOUNDWAVE)

OH SHOOT THERE GOES THE TOWER

WELL FRICK

DON”T “WE DID IT” HOT ROD YOUR DAD IS IN THAT WRECKAGE

“Quintessons: Inferior. Cybertronians: Superior” MAN I”LL NEVER GET TIRED OF THAT

HE”S SO COOL!!!!! FIST BUMP BUDDIES!!! Man I’m so over the moon that these two wound up getting along

You know I’m suddenly having a revelation: I wonder if they could somehow re-activate all those other Soundwaves to help them against the (inevitable) final battle I’m sure they’re gonna have

WHAT THE FRICK

ARE YOU FRICKIN KIDDING ME

Starscream: CANCELED, CANCELED, YOU”RE ALL CANCELED

Well, Megatron certainly got the heck out of dodge at the right time lmao

Episode 14

I legit thought they were going to do an ATLA ref for half a second

Oh my gosh is this an Autobot recruitment video???

“The universe. You ever thought about it?” GOSH THIS VIDEO....

I’m frickin cackling, the Quintessons were like “Hmm, what’s the worst thing we could possibly inflict on this planet?” then went “Oh, of course, Starscream”

WHY DIDN”T YOU JUST LET GO STARSCREAM

Wow Starscream really did just sell out his entire planet huh

SOUNDWAVE NO!!!!! JEEZ HE GOT EVERYONE

Jeez and Starscream has to share with two other faces, that sucks

Lmao Starscream is just like “Nah judging people is what I was born for”

UNSPACE??? UH OK

WAIT isn’t that what Wheeljack made a few episodes ago????

LMAO HE’S GONNA WAIT TIL HE CAN GET OPTIMUS AND MEGATRON TOO bless Starscream and his pettiness

“First I must witness their humiliation!” STARSCREAM PLEASE the Quintessons really got the worst Judge

OHHH WHAT’S HE GONNA DO

SOUNDWAVE YOU’RE SO POWERFUL!!!!!

OH NO HE GOT THEM AGAIN....

GOSH I ACTUALLY GASPED WHEN THEY BROKE SOUNDWAVE’S AUDIO THING, NO!!!

“Well, it did for one of us, and it only takes one Autobot to make a difference” Bee? Whirl??? Wheeljack???

WINDBLADE!!! EVEN BETTER!!! The person with the braincell!!!

I love that Rodimus doesn’t even look worried, he just sighs like “aw man not this loser again”

On the one hand: Worried about my boys On the other: Man I love these two being buds

Also: Not To Be That Guy But it looks like Soundwave’s wearing white thigh-highs with little orange hearts on them and it’s VERY distracting

“You two work so well together!!!” OH NO OH NO OH NO ARE THEY GONNA FUSE THEM TOGETHER OR SOMETHING

THOSE HEAD MASKS ARE SO DISTURBING

uh oh what kind of loop is this

THE PLAGUE OF RUST OH NO

oh my gosh STARSCREAM’S MAKING THEM DO A BUFFING LOOP...THAT’S REALLY THE WORST THING YOU COULD THINK OF STARSCREAM....

“WHERE ARE MEGATRON AND OPTIMUS PRIME” well Optimus is under a pile of concrete, so

Lmao thank you for your peanut-gallery commentary Kup

OH SHOOT THEY DID JUMP THROUGH THE MULTIVERSE BRIDGE

MAN THAT LOOKS SO FRICKIN COOL???? YO SHOUTOUT TO THE BACKGROUND ARTISTS WHO WORKED ON THIS SHOW, YOU ROCK

SERIOUSLY IM IN LOVE WITH THAT I hope whoever did the background art shares their work online sometime, I’ll be ALL over that

AHH I ALWAYS FORGET HOW SHORT THESE EPISODES ARE

Excuse me, Jeremy Levy as WHO???

Episode 15

Kup you are an...interesting commentator choice lmao

MACCADAM..... :(

Windblade please save our favorite Grandpa

wINDBLADE!

HOW’S IT FEEL BEING THE COOLEST KID ON THE BLOCK WINDBLADE

Wait I *JUST* noticed the title calls this “Bumblebee: Cyberverse Adventures” ???? IS THAT NEW

CALL ME A SUCKER BUT WINDBLADE CRACKING HER NECK AND TELLING THE LITTLE SHARK DUDES TO BRING IT ON WAS QUITE POSSIBLY ONE OF THE BEST MOMENTS OF THE SERIES SO FAR

Windblade: *does anything* Me: IM GAY

“I don’t do fear” GOSH I LOVE MY TALENTED GIRL

OH NO!!! OH NO!!!! WINDBLADE NO!!!!!

AND HER WINGS TOO??? WHY!!!!

MACCADAM HELP HER OUT COME ON DUDE WHAT HAPPENED TO NO FIGHTING

lmao rip at the dude crushed by the juke box

Wait I thought they already woke up Iaconus??

YEAH!!!!!!!! MACCADAM AND WINDBLADE TEAMING UP

“UNFORGIVABLE CRIMES AGAINST ME!” LMAO I LOVE THAT LITERALLY EVERYONE IS TUNING OUT STARSCREAM get rekt Starscream.

Not to rag on people who like Starscream because I like him too but me @ Starscream stans tbh

You guys just need to hold hands! I mean seriously, come on you guys!

STARSCREAM QUINTESSONS OMG I just noticed they’re all wearing Starscream’s colors pffft

AW.....MACCADAM’S FIRST HIGH-FIVE....:’) I bet Windblade and Maccadam both give the best hugs and best high-fives

They’re so cute MAN I love Cyberverse!!!! I love how sweet these characters are!!!

A psychic trap??? Hoo boy

Windblade: How do I defeat this psychic trap? Maccadam: Well, it would help if you had any bug or dark-type Pokemon on you.

“Or you could just tell me!” I JUST SAID THAT TOO LMAO gosh I love the writing on this show

OHHH I LOVE THE CONTRAST OF IACONUS’ BRAIN WITH BEE’S BRAIN IN SEASON ONE, THAT”S SO GOOD

OH LMAO HE MEANT HER SWORD I thought he meant like “your inner-strength” or “your wisdom” NO HE MEANT “USE YOUR SWORD WINDBLADE” LOL

OHHH SPOOKY VOICE, I DIG IT

Wow Starscream’s really reading out his 1000 page long call-out post to a captive audience

LMAO THEY”RE JUST LISTING OUT DATE LOCATIONS

CHROMIA IS SO CUTE!!!!!!!! AHHH

OH NO ARCEE!!!!

I LOVE ARCEE, “HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT YOU BASTARD”

OH SHOOT JK I GUESS THEY REALLY DIDN”T TOTALLY WAKE HIM UP LAST TIME I was wondering why he was just an arm

TITAN TIME!!!

Episode 16

To toast the flares off a neutron star....cute....

Wouldn’t it be cute if Kup was telling this story to a bunch of baby Cybertronians

Awh....Maccadam I’m sorry your old Titan had to re-awaken :(

“Too bad I won’t know how it ends” OH NO ARE YOU GUYS GONNA KILL OFF MACCADAM???? NO!!!!

Iaconus looks frickin RAD I’m sure Hasbro will make a killing off his toys

Speaking of I really hope they release Cyberverse on DVD in a bundle-pack

“War Titan, do NOT ignore me!” YEAH USE YOUR MOM VOICE ON HIM WINDBLADE!!!

LOVE THAT ROCK MUSIC

“This has never happened before” now THERE’S an interesting tidbit

OH NO....ITS THE OTHER TITAN....CROATON....

on the one hand, I’m SO glad we’re getting the Titan battle I crave, but on the other, CROATON NO!!!

TRIFORCE BEAM!!!

I love that Windblade is Jaeger-ing this frickin Titan solo

WHOOPS THERE GOES THE STADIUM

“Optimus had a fight of his own...with gravity!” oh how the mighty have fallen Optimus lmao

I wonder how this wonky universe would handle a flier

JUST THROW A BUILDING AT A TITAN, NBD

SOMEONE PLEASE CATCH ARCEE

THANKS GRIMLOCK

THERE’S RATCHET Finally, I was wondering where he was

“Well it’s not my fault this won’t be a fair fight” OH SHOOT THERE IT IS!!! THERE IT IS

I can’t believe Starscream is trying to back-seat drive this fight lmao

SOUNDWAVE NO!!!! Oh thank goodness they’re ok

OH NO OH NO

IS THIS IT IS HE GONNA DIE?? MAC DONT GIVE IN TO FATE!!! NO!!!

MAC NO!!!!!!!!!! MAC YOU DIDN”T HAVE TO DIE NO!!! YOU LITERALLY DID NOT HAVE TO STAND THERE AND GET BLASTED WHY DID YOU DO THAT!!!!!!!

“My last citizen...he is gone” FRICK IM GONNA START CRYING

Quints > Murdered Croaton's citizens most likely > Enslave Croaton > Inadvertently kill Iaconus' last citizen (WHICH HURT BECAUSE WE'RE MADE TO ASSUME IACONUS ONLY CARES ABOUT WAR BUT NO, HE LOVES HIS CITIZENS DEEP DOWN) > BEHEAD IACONUS LIKE, WHY YOU GOTTA STAB ME IN THE HEART LIKE THIS

Wheeljack you’re so smart but ALSO IM STILL CRYING OVER MACCADAM

“Hehe, you’re a nasty little fella” NICE JOB COWBOY

OH NO ALL THE SOUNDWAVES DANGIT I KNEW IT

AND HE”S A BIG LIAR HE DID HAVE SOME BLUE SOUNDWAVES

OH NO WHAT ABOUT WINDBLADE

HECK THAT”S SUCH A BAD PLACE TO STOP BUT I CANT WATCH ANY MORE EPISODES RN I GOTTA STAGGER THIS SERIES

#i talk #I'm watching Cyberverse #Cyberverse spoiler /#primordial robot hell

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darkarfs · 4 years

Text

This is gonna make so many horrible people unhappy. EVERY Takeover has had at least one match-of-the-year candidate on it. Some of the most emotional moments in that brand have come from cards that even aren't quite as good. I even considered not doing this list, because, by all accounts, NXT Takeover: Tampa isn't even going ahead. But then I thought, fuck it, let's celebrate, taken all together, for my taste, the best wrestling product in the history of mankind. It's not just moves; it's emotional investment, sharply-focused, character-based storytelling, intricately-performed spectactle from the greatest physical specimens ever to lace their boots. It FINALLY legitimized Western women's wrestling in the mainstream (Michelle McCool, Trish, Molly, Mickie, Jazz, Victoria, you all were stunning performers in your own right, but you and your kind were, until NXT, only given 3 minutes: the longest women's match IN HISTORY, until 'Mania 32, was Trish Stratus vs. Mickie James at Wrestlemania 22, and it got 9 minutes.), it's got some of the greatest tag wrestling ever seen on ANY brand, it's created the longest-drawn storytelling ever, it's the best of the indies, the best of the WWE, wrapped up in a sequence of shows that were epic without being FIVE FUCKING HOURS LONG.

Where do I even start...?

Honorable mention: Takeover: R Evolution (I have to, because I've only got 10) Sami Zayn spends over a year, clawing and sweating and tearing walls down, just to get to the top of the mountain in NXT. He has the opportunity to cheat, but does it his OWN way, as beautiful, unique babyface Sami Zayn...before being no-scoped by his best friend, who debuted THAT NIGHT. The undercard isn't as strong, so I can't officially include it, but this payoff, this triumph, and this tragedy represents everything the first era of NXT was, and kickstarted it, truly, onto its first golden era. So, properly, then...

10. Takeover: Rival If you leave this list feeling like the title reigns, and thus, ERAS, of Zayn/Owens are a little under-represented by it, I completely understand. After all, so much good came from that time. American Alpha soldifying themselves as the dominant tag team, the Iron-Woman match between Sasha and Bayley, Becky Lynch putting all the pieces together, Enzo and Cass actually being GOOD...it was, still, at its heart, a developmental brand at that time. It had indie megastars, yes, but it also had the likes of Bull Dempsey. And that's not a dig at Bull Dempsey, it's just that those early Takeovers were an eclectic mix of skill levels, which is what NXT was at that time. It was a place to showcase these people. That said, some of these cards were truly *fantastic.* Case in point: Takeover: Rival. Not only was the undercard completely stacked (Hideo Itami vs. Tyler Breeze over-delivered; we had the first and still SOMEHOW ONLY Fatal 4-Way match between the Four Horsewomen; and Finn Balor vs. Neville was a solid match of the year candidate), but the main event was the first step in one of the most storied rivalries in the history of wrestling: Zayn vs. Owens. The video package is one of the best NXT ever did, and the match...was a masterpiece of simple-but unexpected booking. Zayn mistimes a leap to the outside, hits his head, and Owens responds by powerbombing him over...and over...and over again, until the ref stops the match. Zayn loses nothing, because he was never pinned, Owens is made to look even MORE the loathsome monster, and Zayn's title reign ends after just a month, without the champion nor the championship devalued in any way. It showed that NXT knew, even then, how to reward fans for their emotional investment.

9. Takeover: Portland Right now, NXT feels like it's approaching the very end of a special time in its life. Like it's on the verge of hitting critical mass. One of either Gargano or Ciampa probably leaving the company after the next Takeover, and the reign of the Undisputed Era seems to be crumbling, too. In yesteryear, this would indicate a raft of very important call-ups, neccessitating a shift in the roster and a period of calm centered around more patient character-building. NXT's existence now as a third brand throws that formula into uncertainty, but it definitely feels like they're ramping up to a finale, because goddamn, this is NXT almost at a point of self-parody. Every match is so. MUCH. Lee/Dijakovic is the pinnacle of HOT wrestling (and Lee, will you marry me?) Bianca Belair breaks out as an actual superstar...just as Charlotte decides to visit and to ruin everything, which is just dreadful timing. Gargano/Balor being everything we need it to be, and also Balor pinning Gargano with his fucking dick. And the Broserweights being VERY DUMB...but also VERY, VERY GOOD. The only thing that lets this card down...and this is obviously subjective...is that NXT has almost come TOO FAR, now, in its delivery on its main events, in that every kickout starts to beggar belief. On the level of Triple H/Undertaker at Wrestlemania 28, in that I still love it, but...hoo, it can be exhausting. Depends on how much Ring of Honor you like in your gumbo, I guess, but it feels like everyone on the roster is racing toward Tampa to explode, like a wrestling Crisis on Infinite Earths, and then MAYBE...things can calm down. Just a hair. Y'know, if Tampa even...still happens.

8. Takeover: Philadelphia If there's one man that's become synonymous with NXT, it's Johnny fucking Wrestling. You know, what would happen if a meerkat put on muscle mass and became the best set-piece wrestler this side of Daniel Bryan. We knew since he started his tag team with Tommaso Ciampa that he was an exceptional wrestler, but it wasn't until Philadelphia, and his INSANE match with Andrade "Cien" Almas, that we saw him as truly the industry's next star. It was the first Takeover match to go over 30 minutes (Sasha/Bayley at Respect went EXACTLY 30, don't @ me), it was the first NXT match to get 5 stars from Dave Meltzer (if that matters to you), and it set a new bar for Takeover main events. And while the undercard doesn't live up to it, it's still loaded with excellent matches. A.O.P. vs. the Undisputed Era is something special. Shayna Baszler makes her Takeover debut, and while she's nowhere near her prime, it cemented her immediately. Velveteen Dream and Kassius Ohno have a very fun match, and Aleister Black and Adam Cole have a ludcriously stupid no-holds-barred match, featuring two men doing with chairs what no one ought to do with chairs. But as good as all of that is, it's really a one match show, but what a match, and Ciampa ending it by being an utter bastard yet again.

7. Takeover: Brooklyn I Does the first Brooklyn Takeover feature Canadian Destroyers, 18 kick-outs and "fight forever" chants? It does not. Does it create moments of wrestling happiness that are rarely, if ever, replicated? It sure does. Firstly, Blue Pants appears and helps the Vaudevillains defeat Blake and Murphy. Seems quaint to look back on it, but it made everyone SO goddamn HAPPY that night. If you're forgetting, Leva Bates (that wrestling librarian in AEW right now) was once a comedy jobber in NXT, who wore Blue Pants. Adorable. Ignore what happened on the main roster (which is something you'll probably have to do with a lot of these shows, I imagine), but the Vaudevillains were once incredibly over (I promise!), and their win was one of several beam-inducing moments from this stellar night. Samoa Joe destroyed Baron Corbin at the height of his game, Apollo Crews debuted brilliantly (again, ignore what happens next!) and Balor and Owens' ladder match was also fantastic. Also, what's Jushin Thunder Liger doing here?? Wrestling like he's in his early 30s, that's goddamn what!! But of course, the reason we're all here is Sasha Banks vs. Bayley, and...there's still something in my eye. Anytime people want to rag on NXT for being "predictable," remind them that giving the people a moment they've genuinely prayed for...is a good thing. Bayley besting Sasha Banks at her prime just made us all...so happy. All of us. Everyone. When that curtain call took place, it was so earned. The narrative of women's wrestling dominated most of 2015, and this moment, this match, was the apex of that narrative.

6. Takeover: Chicago I And speaking of feelings...hello, Ciampa, you godless fuck. And so begins maybe the actual greatest rivalry in all of NXT. It is truly an odyessy, with twists, turns, injuries, betrayals, wounds torn open, and this is the nexus point. Well, the seeds had already sort of been planted, because Triple H knows what he's doing. Ciampa almost ALMOST turns on Gargano after their terrific match in the Cruiserweight Classic, only for the team to die another day...and what a death it was. After a great ladder match, the two stand atop the ramp, and you think "will it happen?" And the absolute bastards show you the copyright logo, just to make you think the show ends there, because it always does, seconds after that happens. You unclench, you breathe out, relax...Ciampa whispers "this is MY moment" and then...It is a perfectly engineered bait-and-switch, and exactly as vicious as it needs to be. Pats on the back, all 'round. This moment alone makes this a worthwhile Takeover, but there's also a hell of an undercard. The women's triple-threat (Ruby Riott vs. Asuka vs. Nikki Cross) is stellar, Bobby Roode and Hideo Itami have their respective best Takeover matches ever, and then there was Tyler Bate vs. Pete Dunne. An absolute show-stealer of a match, a star-making performance for both men (especially Dunne), it cemented the career of several men, and was a fully-formed GREAT show, as opposed to a good show in service to a storyline.

5. Takeover: Brooklyn IV Gargano and Ciampa's battle of brotherhood, betrayal and brainwashing was supposed to blow off at Takeover: New York, but because God hates necks, Tomato Champion was out of action, making this the final singles encounter to date, until Tampa (again, IF it even happens). This is the weakest of their 3 excellent encounters (which still makes it better than any match over SummerSlam weekend), but it also features Johnny Stupid running into a speaker, because his dumb ass can't seem to quit Ciampa. It's one of the greatest long-form feuds for a reason, mirroring Bret and Owen from 1993 into 1994, with all the repeated imagery, the callbacks, the nuances, the psychological cruelty. The street fight at Chicago II is MAYBE better, but this undercard, for me, is a lot stronger. It featured the Undisputed Era vs. Moustache Mountain, aka the Brothers Shithead vs. the Proud Circus Bear and His Beautiful Son. Velveteen Dream vs. EC3 was the closest NXT got to WWE-style storytelling and was still brilliant (remember when EC3 wrestled?), and HEY, wouldn't you know it, Kairi Sane was once a character with dimensions, as evidenced by an amazing match with Shayna Bazsler. But what makes this undercard truly stellar is Adam Cole vs. Ricochet. It is so nice to see Ricochet used well, etc., but I will still never stop pissing myself at Cole nailing him square in the jaw with a superkick WHILE HE'S MID-MOONSAULT UPSIDE-DOWN SWEET JESUS. Sometimes...sometimes...things fall exactly into place.

4. Takeover: WarGames (2018) The WarGames Takeovers are just so silly. It's a silly shoebox, filled with huge, silly men who only barely know why they're killing each other. It's as close as we ever get to WWE's now-terminal problem of "set aside whatever feuds you have right now, because it's Stipulation Month!" (see: Hell In a Cell, most Money In the Bank shows, though Elimination Chamber largely sidesteps this). The other Shoebox Takeovers are really good, no doubt, but this one stands head-and-shoulders above the rest. But there is not a bad match on this card. Kassius Ohno rides Matt Riddle's knee all the way to heaven; NXT shows why 2-out-of-3-falls is fast becoming its signature stipulation with the excellent blowoff between Sane/Baszler; Sexy Mindgames Prince had a star-making match against Tommaso Ciampa, showing why he may be the best overall character in NXT right now, and sweet lord, Aleister Black vs. Johnny Wrestling. It somehow showed that Gargano was JUST AS, if NOT MORE engaging as a dirtbag than as a good guy. And those Black Masses are presents just for me, a guy who tends to like more community theater in his wrestling than flips ("I ABSOLVE YOU...OF ALL YOUR SINS!"). And then we get to the Shoebox, and gosh it's silly! The Viking Experience, Ricochet and Pete Dunne take on the Undisputed Era, and...its a fucking LOT. 45 minutes of spots and smashing, with just a sprinkling of story, with Fish locking Dunne in his cage so he can't participate in the match. Since this seems to be what this match is designed for...let's rattle off some spots! Ricochet, jumping from one ring to the other! That amazing face-off that recreates the Captain America: Civil War poster! Perhaps the beefiest Tower of Doom in all of wrestling! And then Ricochet proving just how amazing he is...with the double moonsault off the top of the cage. What a stupid thing to do in an amazing, amazing show.

3. Takeover: Dallas I get it; a lot of people might not rank this Takeover quite so high. But it might be my actual personal favorite...? Overall...? More than any other Takeover, this show feels the most like it's filled with living, breathing superheroes. Many NXT stars are seen as just indie guys whose only gimmick is "I'm a very good wrestler," making them almost anti-WWE at the core. But NXT doesn't get enough credit for being, at its core, the best aspects of WWE. The showmanship, the things that elevate mere wrestlers to things like monsters, gods, and demons. I will always like my NXT WWE-style: the best wrestling cut with the most theater, the most camp. And Dallas is that concept, writ large. Baron Corbin coming out with lil' skulls on his shoulders. American Alpha finally becoming Super Saiyan Nerds. Asuka killing our hero, because Bayley is a person, and Asuka is a goddess who can perform brain surgery with her feet. Finn Balor coming out and going actual Texas Chainsaw Massacre on Samoa Joe. It's excellent wrestling, near-mythic visuals...and then we get to Nakamura/Zayn. The most special moment of a very special night. It is, from nearly every perspective, perfect. The hype of the crowd, salivating with anticipation. That moment when Nakamura appears in silhouette, and that violin note slides like a knife across steel, to reveal the man who set New Japan aflame. Sami Zayn getting the best possible swan song in a promotion built almost entirely on HIS back. The end of his era. That bit where they just KEEP PUNCHING ONE ANOTHER. I know it's not a perfect show (Balor/Joe stops for 3 minutes to address a cut on Joe's forehead, stalling its momentum; that Corbin/Ares match isn't as good as it could be) but that all means nothing. It's a sentimental choice, and I'd make it #1 if I could.

2. Takeover: New Orleans I went around and around in my head, and this one and #1 kept jockeying for position in my brain. But these top two Takeovers are literally note-perfect, from ship to shore, soup to nuts, top to tails. So if this is YOUR favorite? (Honestly, maybe 1 person I know who loves wrestling as much as I do will even see this mess). I'm here for you, and I understand. But this show has TWO 5-star matches from the Wrestling Observer, and I don't ever agree with that. In this case, I agree with BOTH, in the North American Championship ladder match, and the first (and so far, BEST) match in the Gargano/Ciampa feud. Everything. Is. Amazing. Shayna Bazsler became Women's Champion after BEAST-MODING her SHOULDER back INTO IT'S SOCKET to show that, YES, she gets pro-wrestling. Roderick Strong shocked the world (and the System) by joining the Undisputed Era and becoming the final Chaos Emerald needed to make that stable Super Sonic. Aleister Black took the championship from Andrade "Cien" Almas and SMILED, I fucking SAW IT! And it all depends on what you want from your wrestling, but Gargs/Tamps might actually be the best main event in Takeover history, at least from a storytelling standpoint. The crutch, the neckbrace. Each man going back to their DIY roots (the tag team - they didn't build another ring when that one broke), and then sitting side-by-side, like they did at the Cruiserweight Classic. Brothers. Completely spent. Destroyed. No one but each other. And then Ciampa shits any chance at redemption up the goddamn wall, cementing his own destruction. Every. Bit. Counts.

and #1...

Takeover: New York For a whole bunch of other wrestling fans, this has the greatest main event in Takeover history. But first, let's take a minute to appreciate how lucky we are, or were, that NXT exists. It justfies the existence of WWE, artistically, almost by itself. If this one's only slightly worse than New Orleans, it is argued, it's that the North American title ladder match was TOO good, and hurt every other match on the card. It has been argued. Not by me, but this one is somehow the most perfectly paced, perfectly sized wrestling card, on its own, ever. Every match, through alchemy or magic, manages to enthrall the crowd equally, and completely. The Viking Raiders vs. Grumpy Smaller Undertaker and the Human Pinball was off the hook incredible, and that warm "thank you" feeling has translated, currently to a man trapped in a room and a man trapped in Vince McMahon's scorn for smaller wrestlers, respectively. Matt Riddle and Velveteen Dream put on an absolute fantasy match, pitting the best of MMA vs. the best of WWE-style theatricality, and adds to the complete, demented character-world of this brand, and the fact that Dream WINS against one of the hottest new prospects is so deserved, and shows that he can, and will, shine forever brighter. Then AAAAGH WALTER vs. Pete Dunne! WALTER LAYS into poor Dunne, his chops alone having you believe that after the match, he's going to run into the arena's parking lot to FIGHT THE CARS. Then Shirai vs. Baszler vs. Sane vs. Belair and goddammit how do I even expound on that without crashing thesarus.com? And then Johnny Gargano and Adam Cole wrestled for. 40. MINUTES. With Gargano as the defacto heel because it was allegedly Cole's time. And by the match's end, he had the crowd more behind him than maybe they ever had been before. Is it a bit much? Yes. Too many kickouts? Probably. But it stands as the apex of Johnny Wrestling's journey. After everything had been taken from him: DIY, his health, his sanity, even his chance at revenge...the only thing he has left is the NXT Championship. And in that moment, he is invincible, he is more than enough.

What a show. What a host of shows.

Thanks for reading, everyone.

#long post

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arthurian · 6 years

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can you do a newtmas fic where it's thomas and minho talking and minho asks thomas what he thinks would have happened if newt lived, and you can take it from there?

wowowoWOW I just want you to know this concept hurt me and I love it.

The Darkness of Ephemeral Things

Characters: Thomas & Minho - with lots of Newtmas refs ofcWords: 2,255Read this on AO3. If you have ideas in mind for something you’d like to see written, my requests are currently open!

He was somewhere around nineteen years old, if he looked his age, and Thomas had already discovered that knowledge could be a very damning thing. The safe haven was beautiful, if you didn't know what it had cost them to get there. Thomas often wondered if he would enjoy the softly swaying cat tails, the air that tasted ever so slightly of salt, and the sun that kissed your skin just enough to warm but not burn you, if he didn’t know the damage inflicted on the rest of the world.

If he didn’t know the names of so many people who weren’t alive to see it.

Some months had passed since the fall of the world he knew. Since Denver had ceased to be the sanctuary the world wanted it to be. Since he’d lost his one of his best friends and the person he loved. And Thomas still felt the ache.

The ache that told his brain there was something missing from his body. The ache that made his bones feel brittle and cold. The ache of a body that should have been next to his but wasn’t, and would never be again.

It was the ache that often sent him away from the bonfires of his companions, and had Thomas creeping towards the hills surrounding their little corner of the world, where he could watch over his friends in quiet solitude. Most days, no one questioned it when he quietly rose from dinner and slunk away. Sometimes, Minho or Aris would try to stop him with a sad smile or a wave to join them, but Thomas rarely let that stop him.

Sometimes that ache demanded space from the rest of the world. Sometimes that ache wouldn’t let him breathe until he’d shed a few silent tears, alone in the dark.

Tonight, the tears would not come. Thomas had been waiting for what felt like hours, watching as fires died out and people returned to their tents and sheds or whatever they’d built to house them, and claimed sleep for the night. The stars were bright here. Tiny beacons to keep the blackness of night at bay. Sometimes they comforted him. Sometimes Thomas hated them for staying the same when everything else had fallen apart.

He did not startle when Minho sat himself in the sand beside him, staring down at the last remaining fire and the few kids left laughing around it. Sometimes Minho felt the ache too, and he would join Thomas in his silent watch, but never for long. Minho’s ache seemed to subside once he understood that Thomas was still breathing. Thomas was glad he could offer his friend that small solace, even if it wasn’t an intentional act.

They sat together for a few quiet moments before Minho broached the silent, his tone strong but contemplative. “You come up here more than you used to.”

Thomas considered lying for a moment, but settled on the truth. It was Minho, after all. If anyone deserved the truth from Thomas, it was him. “I don’t always feel right. Being down there with the rest of them.”

“You belong down there more than anyone else.” Minho told him, and though his head stayed pointed towards their encampment, Thomas thought he saw Minho flick him a concerned glance. “You’re the reason we’re all here, Thomas. Everyone looks up to you. That’s your place; your home. After everything we’ve been through, that’s one of the only things that should feel right to you.”

“They’re all just - so happy.”

Minho seemed to pause in shock at that. He pressed at Thomas almost tentatively. “And you’re not?”

This was the conversation Thomas always hoped to avoid. Because how was he supposed to explain to people that were happy that he couldn’t even find the strength to want to take a deep breath? That sometimes he could feel himself suffocating on the weight of all he’d lost, and he simply didn’t care? That sometimes he went to bed, and hoped he wouldn’t wake up, if only so he’d be reunited with the faces that haunted his dreams.

But Thomas kept his suffering quiet, the way he always had. Even when he ached for someone to move in close, to press their shoulder against his in comfort, to tell him it was okay to want things you couldn’t have. Thomas would always let himself sink into oblivion rather than risk someone drowning with him.

He settled on the least painful version of the truth. “I can’t just forget what happened before we got here, Minho. Not the way everyone else seems to.”

Minho let out a noise of startled disgust. “You’re one stupid shank if you think any of us have forgotten what had to happen to get us here. Everyone down there has demons. But we’re alive. And we’re allowed to be happy about that. So are you.” Minho’s voice softened. “One day it won’t hurt so much.”

Thomas didn’t know if he believed that. How could pain like this ever go away? Did you ever really know if you’d be okay again? Did you ever really come back from the kind of loss that made you wish you could forget how to breathe?

And Thomas thought maybe he was a little more broken than he was capable of healing, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do about that. So instead of thanking his friend for his consolation, he offered him another small truth.

“I’m not sure I can bear losing anyone else. If I let myself get close to them, and something happens - I’m just not sure I can bear it.”

Minho looked at him sadly then. So sadly that if Thomas hadn’t already been broken he would have shattered all over again.

“We can’t all be together forever, Thomas,” Minho said, though not unkindly. “You know that.”

And Thomas did. Better than anyone.

There was the truth that terrified Thomas the most: they were all human, ephemeral things. They would all break. They would all fall. They would all die. And there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be one of the last to go, forced to watch as the rest fell away into the other memories that haunted him.

And that was the darkness of ephemeral things - they were a light in the deepest black, until they weren’t. But even after, you remembered what that light looked like, and you couldn’t help wondering what could have been if it had stayed.

Their silence fell like a blanket of steel around their shoulders. Thomas was sure Minho could feel the weight of it; the cold press of despair that was creeping from Thomas’ body and tainting the air. He wanted Minho to leave - to take his happiness and hold it as close and he could possibly keep it, and let Thomas sink alone.

Minho didn’t leave. He’d never fled when things grew alarming or tense or frightening; not since that first day in the Maze when he’d left Thomas to save Alby and face the Grievers alone. Thomas had the feeling Minho was still trying to make up for that small moment of cowardice, despite Thomas having forgiven him long ago.

“Do you ever think about it?”

Minho’s question startled him, mostly because it was seemingly out of nowhere and Thomas had no idea what he meant. “Think about what?”

“What would have happened, how you would feel, if Newt hadn’t died.”

A Griever crash landed in the narrows tunnels of Thomas’ heart. The pain he’d been shoving down, already unbearable, forced itself to the surface with renewed vigor and an even more acidic weight. The tears came, and he couldn’t stop them and wasn’t sure if he should even try. Because every beat of his heart was too fast too hard, and he could feel it in his head in his toes behind his eyes and he can’t breathe fast enough to lie.

“Every day.”

The words rushed out of him along with a choked sob. Of course he’d thought about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thomas had analyzed every decision and every step and every aching breath he’d taken with Newt at his side, and thought of all the things he’d have done differently in hopes of changing the other boy’s fate.

If Newt had lived, if Newt had lived… Thomas would be in heaven. He’d be living in a dream, somewhere on a cloud that never settled itself on the ground. He’d be perfect he’d be whole he’d be healed.

And what a selfish thought it was, to wish that Newt were here and alive and that he were the one sitting next to Thomas instead. To wish that he’d say, Bloody hell Tommy, stop being ridiculous! We’re alive. We ought to be celebrating! And Thomas would believe it, the way he believed so many things, simply because Newt told him too.

If Newt had lived, maybe Thomas wouldn’t be harboring a secret in his heart that felt like it was tainted with a Griever’s sting, sending him through the Changing again and again and again, bringing back the most terrible memories of his life. Memories that haunted him. Memories of the fight to survive. Memories that were also the best of his life.

Because Newt was in them. There at Thomas’ side. Where he belonged.

Thomas had left his body in that crank place. He’d run for what he’d done and not looked back. He hadn’t said goodbye he hadn’t said he was sorry he hadn’t said I love you.

And it was love. Not loved. Always love because that would never be past tense. Not with Newt. Never with Newt.

And sobs were shaking him in earnest even though he hadn’t spoken, and Minho pressed his shoulder against Thomas’ in silent comfort but said nothing until Thomas wasn’t so ragged and tortured and frayed at the edges.

“I miss him, too,” Minho finally said, and there was a thickness in his voice that made Thomas realized his friend had been crying too. “I know it’s not the same, but I miss him, too.”

“Not the same?” Thomas queried, perplexed.

Minho flashed him a pitying look, with a half smile. “Newt was one of my best friends. We both know he was more than that to you.”

“I - What - How did you -” Thomas stammered, but he couldn’t form the words.

“It’s okay.” Minho said simply, looking away and nudging Thomas with his shoulder again. “We all knew. Even in the Maze. Even when Teresa and Brenda were around. It was just the way you two were magnetized together. Like you couldn’t stand to be apart. Like you weren’t supposed to be.

“Newt… He wasn’t okay in the Maze. I know you know that; that he told you how he got his limp. Even after his leg healed, he was still haunted and scared. Until you. From the day you stepped out of that box, you brought a little life back into him. I guess I just didn’t realize how much life he put back into you.”

Thomas’ muscles quivered with the strength of forcing back his sobs. He wanted to cry until he could never cry again. He wanted to go to sleep and dream of the boy with the strange accent and the chocolate brown eyes and the golden hair Thomas wished he could run his fingers through. He wanted to break and plead and offer himself up in exchange for the one person he would do anything to bring back.

But he couldn’t bring Newt back. Nothing he did would ever bring him back.

“I don’t know how to do this without him, Minho. I don’t think I want to do this without him.”

“So don’t.”

Thomas’ head reeled, but he couldn’t piece together in his brain. “What do you mean?”

Minho answered so simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, “Just because someone dies, it doesn’t mean they leave you. Newt can be with you every step of the way if you want him to be.”

And with that, he stood up and left Thomas with his reeling thoughts, as if he understood that Thomas needed to come to understand what that might mean on his own.

People were ephemeral. They burned brightly, for a few brief moments, and then they faded away. But maybe Thomas was wrong. And maybe Newt wasn’t ephemeral.

Maybe Newt was eternal.

He had lived and he had died, but Thomas would never let him truly die. Not if he looked at things the right way. Newt was alive in every breath Minho took, in every laugh the survivors shared, in every moment Thomas found the strength to smile. His body was gone, and would continue to be gone, no matter how deeply Thomas wished the opposite, but his spirit - Newt’s spirit lived on in each and every one of them.

He had left them. He had joined them. A piece of his essence, of his strength and composure and resolve and love, a piece of his soul, a piece of his sacrifice, was now grafted to each of their hearts like armor.

With a heaving breath, and a few more careful tears, Thomas found the spot on his heart where’d he’d placed the one love he would never let go of, offered it a thanks for never leaving him, and rose to his feet to go and join his friends.

#tmr #the maze runner #newtmas #newtmas fic #tmr fic #newt x thomas #thomas x newt #request #tmrnetwork #user:sage #usertash #tyblacktorn #writing*#Anonymous

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billvsamerica · 7 years

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Part I: Trying to be a good sport

It was the last minute of the match. We were down 2-1 in the semi-final of the playoffs against our bitter rivals, the staff of a local Mexican restaurant. I had just scored a goal to get us back in it, and the ball rolled out of play behind one of their substitutes. He slides the ball behind him and flicks it through his legs. Obviously, I shove him, grab the ball, and ready myself to throw a huge throw-in towards our striker. He would then head it in the goal, take the game to extra time, and I, of course, would score a decisive penalty.

Instead, a man who could be no less than 150 years of age in a snazzy referee’s uniform blows his whistle and shows me my second yellow card. What unfolded next was like a scene from Narcos.

“You want me to whoop your ass?” their tiny striker whispered to me in a sexy Antonio Banderas way.

Who are you, I thought. The Rock? You look more like the pebble. I didn’t say this, but I should have.

“Go on.” I said and leaned forward into his face.

As I began to walk towards my car, an elderly man walked towards me trying to block my path from the field.

“What are you gonna f*%$*#g do?” I screamed at him.

He looked confused. I don’t think he knew what he was going to do. Either he didn’t speak any English, thought the game was over and was just walking to his car, or had inadvertently wandered onto the field while out with the dog.

The team lost that game 2-1 and I had to send an email out apologising for my behaviour to my own team. My own team. Additionally, I was banned for the duration of the season.

In England, I wouldn’t have even received a yellow card. A black eye maybe. Which I would have preferred.

Me in one of the novelty joke kits my team plays in.

This brings to mind another time - and believe me, there are a few. One Saturday morning, I was having a kick about with a bunch of people at a local park. Some bloke with long hair and a very high opinion of himself kicked me to the ground. I got up and shoved him (most of these stories involve me shoving people), which he did not appreciate.

At the end of the game, he followed me to my car, where my good lady wife was waiting to pick me up.

“Does he beat you? I bet he beats you!” he screamed this at the top of his voice dancing around like some sort of possessed Cat Stevens impersonator. After a bit of back and forth, I jumped in the car.

“Drive. He’s lost his mind. Drive!”

We drove off, and I can only assume steam blew out of his ears and that he spontaneously combusted all over the car park.

Since I started playing amateur football in America, I have received four red cards. It’s lucky the swear words over here are different to those in England or I may have received a lifetime ban for my reactions to some of the frankly bizarre calls. Playing anywhere else I would have probably received a couple of warnings, a pat on the back from my team mates, and a round of drinks at the local. I’ve tried complaining. I’ve tried losing my rag - which translates in American as getting all jive turkey - but neither have worked. Instead, I must assimilate. I must become one of them. I must play by the rules?

In addition to irritating the local community of confused soccer aficionados, I’ve been coaching a kid’s soccer team for the last couple of seasons. After playing the game myself, I’ve realised that I need to give back to this starving sporting community. I want to show them how real football should be played. Lump it up to the big bloke up top, he nods it down, and somebody scuffs it in from five yards out.

Anyway, my team, the Blue Badgers (formerly known as the Purple Strikers) fell to an unfortunate defeat in the final of our first season and did the same thing this season. To say I was more devastated than them on both occasions is an understatement.

As the games went on, the other team’s parents started to dwindle and mine started to grow. The fact that a big weird English bloke was shouting instruction to the players the whole time probably brought a bit of entertainment that the quality of the soccer (football) lacked, and I may have, in turn, scared the other parents off. Despite the changes in soccer coaching over the years and the move to prevent micromanaging during games, I’m a firm believer that they should do things right and listen to me shouting my head off at them. I still remember my father’s rants from the sideline.

“Billy! Billy! Billy!”

“What, dad?”

“Play better!”

“Yes, dad.”

He wasn’t even the coach.

His constant barraging may not have led me to become a professional footballer like he’d hoped, but I’m feeling the benefit fifteen years later as the up and coming coach for the under twelve squad of a small group of children in Greenville, SC.

The Purple Strikers line-up from the first season

Recently in an interesting turn of events, the team I coach had a special exhibition match against a local team who are made up of Central and South American players. These kids were younger than ours, more skillful, and had probably been kicking balls since they were only little niños.

The game got underway and one of their kids slid into the back of my star striker’s legs, taking him out. Slide tackles aren’t allowed in my league, much to my irritation. I shouted to the ref and told their coach that their kids should be more careful. This did not go down well with the droves of parents who came with them. A mixture of English and Spanish words were thrown at me, which I returned for a while before losing interest and attempting some bold tactical moves to get us back into the game.

When I moved to America, I honestly never thought I would start an individual race war against Latin Americans. I don’t agree with Trump. The only wall I want them to face up against is three 10 year olds when they’re readying to take a free kick.

Me and two of my rival coaches. The Blue Badgers destroyed both their teams on the way to the final.

After the game, which we lost 7-3, I heard one of their parents talking to my boss.

“Your coach! He started a fight with us! He wanted to start a fight!” He kept saying over and over again.

I don’t like liars. I do like people from south of the border though, let me just make that clear. I’m not a racist, which I am fully aware is the tagline for all racists.

But on this rare occasion, I had not started a fight with a child’s father.

“Look, mate. You listen here. I wasn’t starting a fight. We’re not allowed slide tackles and...”

“You’re no coach, you’re not a coach!”

He clutched his child’s hand as I walked away.

“You wine-o. Wine-o! Wine-o!”

The former English teacher in me woke up for a second. And, for once, I hadn’t been drinking. I stomped back down the hill to teach him a lesson. A grammatical lesson.

“Look, wine-o means somebody who drinks lots of alcohol. Not somebody who whines a lot. That is a whiner!”

“You are. You wine-o!”

Christ, I thought.

“I’m not having a go here. I’m trying to help you in case you get into any other altercations with children’s soccer coaches in the future.”

He stared blankly at me, so I wandered back up the hill. He could have that one for free.

“Wine-o!”

Last straw.

“And you’re a great father,” I said. “Father of the year over here!” I reiterated sarcastically.

He followed me to my car, which I got in and drove away without getting the wing mirrors kicked off. Once again, the car had proven to be a handy exit strategy against angry, testosterone-fuelled berks living in America.

After getting into altercations with the staff of a Mexican restaurant, a granddad referee, a devout Christian with long hair, and a child’s father at a soccer match, what have I learned? I’ve learned that they’re all mouth and no action. Also, I should probably go and seek some sort of anger management therapy even though, as you can see from my totally unbiased account of the events that unfolded, I was totally in the right on all occasions.

Next time... PART II: I tackle the world of organised sport (if I don’t get hunted down with pitchforks beforehand).

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nigeiadigitalmarketingcompany · 5 years

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Politics is Show Business for Ugly People…

Digital Elixir Politics is Show Business for Ugly People…

“It’s too late baby Now it’s too late” –Carole King

Politics is show business for ugly people. And you’ve got to play by show business rules.

Show business is all about preparation, getting the act, song, movie, TV show, ready and then marketing it so people will be aware of it and buy it.

And you always want to be first, and you want to eliminate all chance.

You want an upward curve, even if you start low and slow.

You want no lulls. You want to keep people interested, by teasing them with new information on a regular basis.

You want to control the narrative.

And what is the narrative the Democrats are trying to sell?

Damned if I know. The only thing they can agree on is they hate Trump. I hate KISS, but that doesn’t keep them off the road, playing to empty arenas, their fans support them. And speaking of KISS, Gene Simmons is one of the greatest marketers of all time, a complete blowhard, but he’s making it work for himself and the band. Maybe he learned it all from Neil Bogart, who changed his name from “Bogatz,” to give the right “impression.” Bogart failed on his first attempt, trying to sell a record of Johnny Carson routines, it went instantly into the cut-out bin, but then he pivoted to disco and Donna Summer and KISS.

And Bogart was a showman, full of crap. Seemingly everything he said was inflated and wrong. Remember when there were four simultaneous KISS solo albums and Neil said they were instantly gold? The press bought it, even though all of them but Peter Criss’s came back.

You see it’s all about perception. Sell the myth, not the facts.

It’s more important that Elizabeth Warren be seen as a fighter against the man than any specific policy position. People don’t go that deep. CONGRESS doesn’t go that deep! Did you read the “New Yorker” story on Al Franken? His accuser told boldfaced lies, there was history disputing her account, but she got out there first and what she said ruled, even though she was working for a pro-Trump radio station. Once again, the Democrats reacted, and now they’re doubling-down, can’t see why they were wrong. Kirsten Gillibrand, YOU’RE HISTORY!

The press said Trump was losing because he brought up the “i” word before the Democrats. But Trump knows you get ahead of the blowback, you make the first punch, and you load the media with so much b.s. that it can’t keep up.

Meanwhile, the public doesn’t know the difference between impeachment and conviction and Pelosi seems as old as she really is. She’s Perry Como after the Beatles. Doesn’t she realize THE RULES HAVE CHANGED?

Happens in entertainment all the time. Suddenly you can’t sell hair bands. Suddenly hip-hop is burgeoning. And if you fight the tide, you drown. Oh, little fish can still swim in their own private backwaters, but if you’re playing for everything, if you want to run the table, you’ve got to be looking to the future, not the past!

Trump speaks to the public. Pelosi speaks to insiders.

That’s why AOC gets so much traction, she speaks to the public-at-large, it’s less about legislation than attitude, which is move over you old farts and let the younger generation take the reins, you oldsters have no idea what is going on anymore!

But Team Pelosi says you’ve got to run to the center, because you’ve got to appeal to those districts that flipped for Democrats in 2016. That’s like making Aerosmith play acoustic, and refusing to let them play new material.

Of course, Aerosmith doesn’t play new material, and Chris Christie is a big Boss fan. It’s kinda like long hair. Once upon a time it symbolized something, you were either for us or against us, then it was just a fashion choice.

Anyone who plays to the rearguard is always disrupted. Didn’t you ever read Clayton Christensen? Everybody pooh-poohs the new, saying it’s not as good as the old, and then it becomes better and the old folds overnight. Christensen says to embrace the new, and then eliminate the old when the new gains traction. The DNC is being disrupted and their answer? Let’s go back to Good Ol’ Joe. That’s like asking your grandfather for music advice.

So what we’ve got is candidates who want to throw the baby out with the bathwater and the Democrats are freaking out, they can’t even get aligned on one position. Criticize the Republicans all you want, but after Trump they all got in line. That’s how you win, when you play like a team!

And if you try to appeal to everybody, you lose. The road is littered with middle of the road artists, who fail on the chart and play to a dwindling audience in Branson and clubs. You want to get people EXCITED! That’s what Warren and Harris and Bernie and Buttigieg are doing.

And what does the establishment say?

THEY’RE TOO FAR LEFT!

AC/DC was too heavy until suddenly they weren’t. “Back In Black” is still streaming prodigiously today, “You Shook Me All Night Long” is an American anthem! Of course Mutt Lange helped. The right has Karl Rove, who do we have on the left?

So the reason you wanted impeachment is so the whole world would watch, so Trump’s bad behavior, criminal or not, would infect the public. When the truth outs, it’s hard to deny.

But no, it was never time. Pelosi and her pals are like a Silicon Valley outfit that never releases its product. It’s so busy getting it right that it can never come out. Meanwhile, Facebook becomes so big by having a motto of “move fast and break things.” Forget that Zuckerberg is the enemy now, he’s on top of the pyramid, he controls the conversation more than not only Congress, but the mainstream media! Furthermore, he just pivoted, saying it was about private conversations, when the Democrats are still looking for that elusive consensus. Everything worth paying attention to starts off the radar, small, and then it blows up and BECOMES THE MAINSTREAM!

So Barr says Trump is innocent.

The Dems folded their tent.

Then Mueller sends his letter and they think…wow, maybe there’s something here. Like a band the label has stopped working that is suddenly selling tickets…the label is on to something else, it’s hard to get it restarted on your old product.

And then the Democrats placed all their hopes on Mueller testifying. That’s like taking someone with a great record, who’s never been on stage, and having them headline Coachella! No one would do that, the odds of failure are too high.

So Mueller didn’t deliver. Oh, don’t make it about Russia, the Dems thought Mueller was gonna blow a hole through the curtain, reveal that Trump was culpable and should be charged. Not only did Mueller not do this, he said as much after he delivered his report earlier…this was his final statement!

And the Dems are playing by old rules and crying to the nonexistent refs that the Republicans are cheating. No, Trump and his posse have invented new rules, like no one in the regime needs to testify. When they up the ante, so do you! You don’t say there’s no crying in baseball!

So now, on left wing radio, all the talk is about getting the transcripts from the grand jury. God, even in the NFL when you lose, you lose, no matter how heinous the call. Because without rules, you’ve got no game.

And that’s what’s happening now, WE’VE GOT NO GAME! Trump and his cronies are running ragged and the Dems and the media are so flummoxed, they do NOTHING!

Come on. Even the most lame influencer knows you’ve got to deliver product on a regular basis. You’ve got to hook the audience and deliver. That’s certainly what Trump has done, and all the left keeps saying is HE SHOULDN’T TWEET!

Meanwhile, these same wankers are posting to Instagram, the national pastime, and despite their constant disparagement of the internet and Twitter, Twitter is where the news happens, and if you’re not on it, you don’t know what’s going on.

So impeachment failed in the marketplace. It’s like Annapurna, Megan Ellison’s movie company. No matter how great the film, and she’s put out plenty, they never reach expectations. “Booksmart,” one of the best-reviewed movies this year, which appeals to oldsters and youngsters…dead. Product is only one part of the puzzle, you need the aforementioned marketing. The big studios may put out lame films, but they’re experts in marketing them.

When you fail, you write it off. Just look at the Fortune 500, that’s what they do. Did Bezos try to improve the Fire phone? No, he deleted it from the catalog. And today, your mistakes don’t haunt you as long as you continue to play and make noise. Once again, the game has changed, there’s so much noise that the biggest challenge is just reaching the public. And if you don’t, people forget what you were selling, they’re inundated with new messages.

And I’ve used a plethora of metaphors here, but now I’m gonna use one more. Pro football used to be a running game. Now running backs make a fraction of what they used to, all the emphasis is on passing and receiving! You change with the times!

Seems like everybody can change with the times but the Democrats.

So forget impeachment. This is the gang that can’t shoot straight, even if they have clear evidence that Trump needs to go, the right will spin it otherwise and rule the marketplace, i.e. public opinion. And just like a record, you don’t have to appeal to everybody to win. How come Trump knows this and the Democrats don’t?

Instead of clinging to the past, trying to rebuild the old edifice, it’s time to build a new one. And there are a number of candidates promising this. Safe rarely succeeds. Can you say Romney? Can you say Kerry! One of the reasons Obama won was because he HAD little history. There was little to nail him on and he promised hope.

Believe me, Ol’ Joe is not promising hope. He’s like a boomer musician waiting for Hilary Rosen to save them from streaming. But Hilary’s moved on from the RIAA, and streaming has already won, soon there won’t even be any hardware to play discs! Apple kills the iPod because the innards are no longer manufactured, and the Democrats keep trying to prop up oldsters, held together by baling wire. Bill Clinton had Linda Bloodworth-Thomason and her husband selling him, and despite baggage, he won anyway!

Who do the Democrats have?

Maybe it’s time to hire Bill Belichick.

Oh, that’s right, HE’S A TRUMPER!

~~~

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