Why:It is the story of a woman who was bullied in high school and how that still effects her life but also how she was able to overcome that become incredibly happy and successful later in life. I relate to her struggles in school,bullying sucks and it does stay with you. She is one of my film heroes.
Let me tell you something, I don’t care about being your stupid prom queen. I’m 25 years old. I’m an undercover reporter for the Chicago Sun Times and I’ve been beating my brains out trying to impress you people. Let me tell you something Gibby, Kirsten, Kristin, you will spend your lives trying to keep others down because it makes you feel more important. Why her? Let me tell you about this girl she is unbelievable. I was new here and she befriended me no questions asked. But you, you were only my friend after my brother, Rob, posed as a student and told you to like me. All of you people, there is a big world out there… bigger than prom, bigger than high school and it won’t matter if you were the prom queen, the quarterback of the football team, or the biggest nerd in school. Find out who you are and try not to be afraid of it.”
Title: Found Out About You TV Show: The 100 Ship: Kabby Note: The Kabby College AU that my trashcan shipper heart longed to write for the longest time. Disclaimer: I don’t own the 100 or the characters. Don’t hurt me! :)
It wasn’t until three o’clock in the morning that her shift at the bar was over.
She had spent the past seven hours pouring mixed drink after mixed drink, shot after shot, and all for a hefty wad of cash tips her manager had handed over to her at the end of the night. She’d like to think her skills as a bartender were improving, but she knew the outfit she had worn that night probably had something to do with the extra cash.
The smartphone in her back pocket vibrates, and she pulls it free from the confining material. It’s Aurora, a fellow bartender who’d gotten the night off and who also happened to be a good friend of Abby’s.
“What do you want,” Abby says into the phone as she fumbles with her car keys, walking through the back door of the bar that led to the small employee parking lot.
“There’s a party in full rage at Indra’s. We need to go.”
“Aurora, I just got off of work.”
“Even more of a reason to come hang out with me,” her friend pleads over the phone. “We won’t stay for more than two hours, I promise.”
Abby sits in her car, starts the engine, closes her door, and locks the vehicle as she balances the phone between her ear and her shoulder. She argues with herself that with her senior year of undergrad starting in less than a week, she deserved to have as much fun as possible.
Aurora’s apartment is only a few minutes away from the strip downtown, and when she pulls into her friend’s parking lot, she honks the horn once to alert Aurora of her presence. The dark haired brunette comes bouncing down the stairs, jogs to Abby’s car, and climbs in.
“You’re a babe, you know that right,” she says sweetly to her friend.
“Do we know anyone at this party,” Abby asks as she pulls her car back out onto the road, well aware of where Indra Porter’s rent house was located. She was host to some of the best parties on campus, and to be seen at one was guaranteed distinction from the rest of the student body.
“A few of my friends are there,” Aurora begins, flipping the sun visor down and opening up the compact mirror to check her reflection. “You’ll know me, though.”
It takes Abby a while to find a parking spot, but there’s an empty patch of grass against the sidewalk that she manages to pull her car into. The front lawn is covered in empty solo cups, there are people hanging against every surface of the house, and the front door is wide open.
Abby bites her lip when she realizes the music is so loud, it’s echoing down the street. She tries to calm her nerves, telling herself that everyone who lives down this road is probably at this party anyways, and follows Aurora into the crowded two-story house.
“Kitchen first,” her friend says, pushing her way through groups of drunk freshmen. The two girls come to a clearing, and that’s when she see’s him.
There’s a dark haired, dark eyed guy leaning against the kitchen counter. His hair is a bit messy, but it suits him. His plastic cup is resting cautiously against his lower lip as he waits for the guy next to him to finish telling his comedic story. He’s wearing dark, tight clothing that clings to every muscle of his body. One of his hands is shoved in his pocket as he drinks.
“Aurora,” Indra hollers over the music. The host of the party is standing at the head of the kitchen, near the endless bottles of liquor and plastic cups. She’s suddenly holding out a cup for Aurora to take, one full of a dangerous combination of alcohol and soda.
“Make her drink weak, Indra,” the mysterious dark-haired guy calls out from his spot, his eyes burning through Aurora. “We all know she can’t handle her alcohol.”
“Don’t be such a condescending ass, Kane,” she spits out.
“I’m condescending? Do you even know what that means, sweetheart?”
Abby is watching the heated exchange, guilt flooding her veins for ever thinking this jerk was attractive in the first place. She’s met her fair share of his kind at the bar, and she’s suddenly never had the urge to punch someone in the face as much as she did in this moment.
“You know, I thought you were attractive at first… but then you opened your mouth,” she fires back, and Abby has never been in more love with her best friend.
“Hang on…I’ll go get you a tampon.”
There’s suddenly a ‘crack’ and before everyone knows it, Abby is holding her swollen fist in her free hand, silently screaming in pain. There’s a red mark where her fist has collided with Marcus’s eye, and everyone freezes.
“Whoa,” Aurora screams, setting her cup of alcohol down on the nearest object and running towards her friend.
“Holy shit,” comes a voice from behind her.
“Damn,” Indra says, laughing into her cup as she watches Marcus straighten up with winced eyes. “I like her,” she points to Abby.
“Oh my God, Abby… he was just… messing with me.” She dips down, bringing Abby’s hand up to examine the damage, then turns and checks on Kane who’s got his eyes locked on Abby. “Are you okay,” she asks him quickly.
“Wait, so you know his asshole,” Abby says, eyes growing wide at her mistake. The guilt floods once more, but for a different reason. Her hand forgotten, she stalks over to the many kitchen drawers. She finds a ziplock bag, fills it with ice, grabs a dish towel, and walks up to Kane, who flinches at her close presence. The company around them laugh at his gesture and she feels the embarrassment rush in. “Come on,” she says apologetically, grabbing him with her good hand and dragging him out through the kitchen door that leads to the somewhat empty backyard.
She’s too ashamed to stay in the kitchen full of howling drunks, so when he follows her and sits himself down on the concrete steps, she lets out a huff of air.
“I am… so sorry,” she says, cheeks filling with color. She offers up the makeshift ice pack, which he gratefully accepts and presses to his eye.
“I had it coming, I suppose,” he says after a moment, letting the coldness of the ice sooth his aching cheekbone. “I’m surprised this hasn’t happened sooner,” he admits with a bit of a chuckle. “She’s the only one in there who’s ever been witty enough to come back at me like that; we’ve been doing it for years out of fun,” he explains. “Aurora is my friend,” he promises. “She’s yours too, I take it?”
“Yes,” she sighs, wanting nothing more than to start the night over. “Listen, I really am sorry. Let me take a look. I’m an undergrad-“
“It’s fine,” he says, brushing it off. “You’ve got a mean right-hook, no doubt, but I’m okay.” He looks up and finds her almost pouting. He chuckles, pats the empty spot next to him on the staircase, and nods towards the vacant spot with his head. “Sit.” She does as she’s told, slowly coming to rest next to him. “Let’s start over.”
“I’d like that.”
He turns to her, holds his hand out, which she takes gently.
“Marcus Kane.” Despite the pain radiating from his cheek, he offers up a genuine smile.
In the harsh porch light, she can see how the tissue around his eye is starting to swell and bruise. She doesn’t think twice when she reaches for the icepack he’s forgotten about, and lifts it to his face.
“They’re never going to let me live that down, will they,” she asks softly, which earns a smile from him.
“No,” he answers honestly. “They won’t.” She’s gentle with how she presses the icepack to his face.
“There are worse things I could be remembered for, I guess.” He laughs at that, and she smiles along with him. She lifts the icepack away from his face and presses it against a new area of tender skin, when he hisses and reaches up to grab her wrist in an attempt to stop her.
She gasps at the suddenness; his unexpected touch, and his eyes soften. He gently releases the grasp he has on her wrist and looks up at her through his lashes.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, letting her press the ice to the most tender spot once more. They spend the next few seconds in an awkward silence as she continues to ice his eye.
“You go to school here,” she’s asking, placing the icepack between them on the step once she’s satisfied with her work.
“Political Science,” he states. “You?”
“Medicine.” He nods his head, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“So that’s how you knew exactly where to hit, huh?”
“Shut up,” she scoffs, nudging him with her shoulder playfully, her embarrassment slowly fading away.
“What year are you in?”
“I’m an undergrad senior.”
“And this is only a wild guess, but I’m assuming graduation is high on the ‘To-Do’ list, so aggravated assault isn’t looking too good, is it?”
“You’re enjoying this too much,” she says with an eye roll. “Okay, I give. What can I do to make it up to you?” He shakes his head, a coy smile playing on his lips. What he really wants from her, he dare not ask yet. He knew asking her out on a date would be dangerous, and there was always the possibility of her punching him in the face again, so he decided to play it safe.
“I’ll tell you what you can do for me,” he says, pushing himself up from the concrete steps and coming to stand in front of her. “You can punch a creep who ever pulls that crap on you or Aurora if I’m not there to do it first.” Her heart skips a beat at his words and before she knows it, he’s holding out his hand to help her off from the steps. “Truce?”
She nods, her lips curling up into a shy smile, and tucks a piece of her curled brunette hair behind her ear.
“Truce,” she promises, slipping her hand into his and letting him pull her up effortlessly.
“Let’s get back in there before they think you murdered me,” he teases, and she turns around to face the door. He stands close behind her, so much so that she can feel the cotton of his t-shirt brush against the backs of her bare arms. She twists the doorknob, pulls the door open, and they step back into the crowded kitchen together.
“Hey, everyone. Fight Club is back,” Indra calls out, referring to Abby, who only blushes and hides her face in her hands, laughing into her fingers as the rest of the party-goers hoot and holler in amusement.
All it takes is for Marcus to wrap a friendly arm around her shoulders for her to pull her face out from her hands. He pulls her gently into his side, showing everyone that they’re no longer arch enemies. She can’t help but let her own arm wrap around his back, her hand coming to rest on his hip as she plays along with his display of friendly affection.
One human hotel is used
to house every single one of them during the transition period. It’s chaos in
every way you’d expect and a couple more, but not all bad; Karaoke Night is a
lot of laughs, for one.
Tonight’s theme is
duets, and for Sans, staying safely out of that particular limelight meant
finding a partner for Papyrus. Since Alphys and Undyne were already spoken for,
he elected to approach the loner sipping ice cider at the bar. Muffet had greeted
him with a scowl—yeah, he didn’t miss the hotdog stand either—and he’d gone
admiring her discipline, since this was the only vacation any of ‘em were going
to be having for a long while. He’d ordered something sweet with rum and ‘forgot’
about it as he left to find his brother.
By the time she
totters on to the stage with Papyrus wearing four pairs of hot pants, three of
them like armbands, and they (loudly) break out into I Wanna Be Like You—song and dance,
kind of, thank god for the kid’s movie recommendations—Sans considers it to be effort
I've been looking into Star's physical strength, and I can't find a solid answer. I was wondering what your thoughts on this were? I've read the old "strength of 8 men" figure from Kory's early days, but her later feats suggest she's WAY stronger than that. She's overpowered Donna, and her rage makes her stronger, which some estimate could put her at a low 100 ton class level. So, 2 questions. How strong d'you think she really is canonically, and how strong would she be if you could choose?
I’ve actually talked about this [here] and [here].
I think she’s a 100+ class character and I think I’d keep her there.
Final report of the commercial starship Nostromo, third officer reporting. The other members of the crew - Kane, Lambert, Parker, Brett, Ash and Captain Dallas - are dead. Cargo and ship destroyed. I should reach the frontier in about six weeks. With a little luck, the network will pick me up. This is Ripley, last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off.”