i am undefeated

Damian Wayne/ Robin X Reader- The Next Bruce Lee (Part 2)

Part 1

Warning: Descriptions of injuries, swearing

Groaning, you slapped your hand on your face, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.  You frowned when you felt bandages attached to your face.  Sitting up slightly, you threw the blanket covering you off, shocked to find more bandages covering your body.  Looking around the room, you noticed that you weren’t in your room, not even in Pete’s or the recovery room where badly injured fighters usually go.  The room was very formal for your taste, which confused you even more.  Hissing in pain, you sat up even more, agitating your wounds. 

“What the hell happened?” you asked yourself, rubbing your temples.

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anonymous asked:

99 w/ 104 please

99: “You got a cute butt”
104: “…or we can chill in our underwear”

***

“Oh no!” You whine when the lights wink out and the whir of the central air stills. “No, no, no, no.” You groan, “Harry?” You yell through the house.

“Yes, love?” His voice gets closer until you see him sprawled on the couch, a book propped open in his hands.

“The electricity went out.”

“Yes, I can see that.” There’s a clap of thunder and you wince and Harry finally looks up at you, “Are you scared?”

You frown, “No, I just don’t want to die of heat.”

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t be dramatic.” There’s another rumble of thunder and this time you visibly jump a bit. Harry giggles at you and puts down his book, “Come on, lemme hold you.”

“It’s hot.” You whine, but lightning strikes again and you squeal before crawling onto his chest. “What are we going to do now?” You mumble into his skin as he trails his fingers up and down your back.

“I don’t know, what do you want to do?“

“I want to go swimming.” You sigh, knowing you can’t use the pool in the storm.

He’s quiet just a moment, “…or we can chill in our underwear.”

You smirk, but sit up to pull your t-shirt over your head revealing your pink lace bralette, “Wow, did you pay someone to make the electricity go out so you could see me in my underwear?” You kick off your shorts, “All you had to do was ask.”

He grins and watches you hungrily as you sit back on the couch in just your lacy undergarments, “Your turn.”

He smirks and pulls off his t-shirt and pulls down his sweatpants revealing red Calvin Klein’s. You refrain from sighing, knowing he doesn’t need the ego boost and instead just climb back on top of him, now skin to skin.

“Now what?” You mumble.

“You’re so needy when you’re bored, why don’t you read a book or something?”

“I’ve already read all the ones I have. Entertain me, please.”

He sighs, “We could play a game?”

“What kind of game?”

He sits up, pulling you with him, “Let’s go see what I have.” He leads you to a closet and when he opens it the whole thing, top to bottom, is filled with board games.

“Do you have a secret child you haven’t told me about?”

He smirks, “I’m the secret child.”

You snort and then get to work looking through the games. A lot of them required more than two players so those were out, but then you saw a classic and smirked, pulling it out.

Harry raises his eyebrows when he sees which game you’re holding, “Twister?” You nod, “Okay, but I want you to know that I am undefeated at Twister.”

You follow him to the living room, “Oh please, I’m way more flexible than you.”

He gives you a cheeky smile and you can tell he’s thinking of the views he’s going to get of you as you play since you’re both in your underwear, “Is that so?”

You roll your eyes and walk past him, setting up the game instead of answering.

You’re both very competitive and as skilled as you both claim to be so the game goes on for what feels like hours. It was the longest game of Twister you’ve ever played. You both got so lost in trying to win, neither of you made any kind of humorous remark after the first ten minutes.

Your muscles were starting to scream in protest, but you kept your cool so Harry wouldn’t think he was winning.

“Right hand blue.” Harry ordered and you took a deep breath and pushed your hand through his legs to reach the blue circle. From this new position you had a really nice view of Harry’s bum and decided maybe now was the time to surrender.

You smiled to yourself as you pulled your right hand back again and then reached up to squeeze Harry’s butt.

“Hey!” He was so startled he nearly lost his balance, “You can’t do that, it’s cheating.”

You giggle and finally sit on the ground, “I know, I forfeit.”

“Ha!” Harry says and then sits to face you, “I win! Styles remains undefeated!”

You shrug, “Worth it. You got a cute butt.”

He laughs and pulls you into his lap before squeezing your butt, “So do you.”

things anthony has said to me:

“That’s true. I am an undefeated wrestler. That is pretty awesome.”

“I’m not completely inept. I’ve put together a book case.”

“Don’t call me Bernard when you get mad at me.”

“I’ve only plucked out one eye. That’s only one more eye than you’ve ever plucked out.”

“Are you using me to learn the illuminati secrets? Don’t forget that I’m a “gatekeeper” also for covering up the Kennedy Assassination. You’re dating a gatekeeper.”

“Antigone sounds like my Hollywood Power Couple name if I was dating an iguana.”

“Congratulations on being internet famous.”

“I definitely won’t hit you with a chair, though. Even for the WWE Championship.”

“Please have an intervention if I am an etsy jewelry maker. I’m asking you to step in if that ever happened.”

“Obama/Biden are undoubtedly the most ice creamiest President and Vice President in history.”

“I’ve never been caught for killing someone.”



“Insultingly superior Anthanie is the best power couple.”

“For discreet, professional murdering needs, Call Anthony.”



“I am capable of sitting in darkness.”



“I totally forgot the gate code to the old storage unit. What is it? I only have room in my head for so many numbers. You wouldn’t want me to forget Millard Fillmore’s birth date, would you?”


“I am in fact aware of the continuing existence of China.”

“I only date girls with professional weight-lifting form.”

“Are you going to the gym tonight or just coming home to shoot people?”

“Bones kind of set the rules for the rest of your body.”

“Dragons are not relevant to Presidential history. I promise.”

“We can’t let the cat go terrorize the world. He’s our little terror.”
The White Princess Live Blog - Ep. 4

Here is my live blog of Episode 4 of TWP for all y'all.  This was a decent episode, I thought.  4.5 pages of snarky notes here, and not proof-read at all.  


Previously on whatever the hell it is we’re doing here…

Joanne Whalley is in this one - great more Burgundy plot-line. Woo freaking hoo.

Margaret of Burgundy isn’t taking this so well - she looks…. dead?  Is that what they were going for?  Does she just have the one dress?  Duchess Cecily can barely walk but she was sitting on the floor with the children?  Right…

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I am blue as blue can get
but I know how to shoot a shotgun full of buckshot bullets,
I know how ‘no’s turn boys into beasts. 
I’m not scared. 


This is a truth and an untruth.
I am a wrecker
Not of homes,
Of people
(Including myself)
Im an equal opportunity wrecker!
Does that make me a feminist?
Or am I a meninist?
I mansplain all day to these boys,
They should really know by now
that I am a curator who knows better,
they taught me well.
They sharpened my skills.


Truthfully,
I’m not a notorious serial killer,
I’m a petty criminal who took all the credit.
The only way I can explain is through shitty analogies.
I am a metaphor that the reader thinks he understands.
I’m Lady Macbeth, and my hands are just dirty as fuck!


It doesn’t makes much sense to me.
I’m a shitty texter,
I’m not cool,
I’m loud
I think I’m smarter than you
(I’m not)
And I know I’m prettier than your ex girlfriend
(And your current girlfriend)
I light all my bridges on fire
I drink boy tears mixed with champagne,
(try it sometime)
and I sit at the head of the table.
I am a mob boss with a monopoly
over whiny boys who don’t get what they want,
I’m a girl made of alpha male,
and I protect my own.
If you fuck with the people I love,
you’re in for some twisted shit.
I am a multitude,
my blood is sarcasm and self-pity,
cinema and endless analysis,
I am a pain in the ass!
I will keep you up all night
And make you late for everything,
In the morning, I’ll oversleep soundly
And you’ll curse me from your work desk,
Only to come home the very same evening
and say you love me,
And say that I’m the most everything out of everyone that you’ve ever met,
and that you’ll wake up everyday excited
to do it all over again
Eventually, you’ll say I’m “too much” too often,
and when I decide not to come home anymore,
You’ll start knocking down MY door
and you tell I’m the most everything out of everyone you’ve ever meet
and this time,
You mean it!
I’ve rolled my eyes so much,
I’ve detached retinas.
(and you bore me).


Sometimes I think about my conquests and feel full,
Full of laughter and indifference and numbness
Not the bad numbness,
(I know that mother too)
But the kind of numbness you get in your face
When you’re drunk and it’s warm
and you’re swimming with you’re best friends,
And you’ll live forever.
But most of the time I am very sober.
It’s my duty to slap me awake,
to remind me of the truth.
I’m not a dictator,
I can be glamorous
but THIS isn’t glamorous,
I know the difference.
(caution: this isn’t an apology).


Those boys,
the ones I ate,
they were beautiful and hand made
of tiny shipwrecks.
I sailed them until they sank.
The seas we sailed were the only ones left that weren’t melting–
we weren’t the first to hit icebergs,
we weren’t the first ones to get lost.
I loved them,
But I don’t miss them anymore–
Not those boys, and not myself.
I’m not trying to bring us back to life;
An autopsy must be performed.
We all need a cause of death.


It’s still strange to me that
My body count is so high.
I’ve led many little lives
I’ve played the protagonist and the antihero,
The villain and the victim.
I’ve never chosen the roles,
They’ve chosen me,
(I’m a method actor).
I thought it was clear who I was when went we went to sleep, but
we were all wrong about me.


To those boys
I’m the small-town star quarterback,
The one you adore and resent at the same time,
The one who’s tragic and a little sick
But endearing because they’re beautiful and hard.
To them
I’m a rare catch,
And they can’t decide
If they should catch and stuff and hang me on the mantlepiece,
Or catch and release me back into the wild
Just so they can watch.


I don’t always know what to do with me either,
but I am not mythological.
I can’t tell you what I am
But I am not a suicide to be romanticized.
I am a championship
and a game lost by 1.
I am decorated
But I am NOT undefeated.
I’m not an Olympian
I am a soldier,
one who is valiant and strong
not because they’ve won it all,
But because they survived it all.
I am many
and I am few.
I am a fighter
And I don’t mean that in a story book sense,
I mean it very literally.
I have survived myself,
I have saved myself,
and I still don’t know
whether the blood on my hands
Is mine or theirs.


Those boys thought I was a war zone
(I did not feed them this lie).
They were shocked and horrified
when they realized
I was not propaganda.
They forgot
that all fire is enemy fire,
that there aren’t any “good guys” or “bad guys”,
just people trying to survive.
I didn’t mean to hurt them by living this truth,
but I can only be so remorseful over rain.
I am not your local weather man.
Everyone is made of bones and flowers.
I never wanted to teach those boys
that people are graveyards and gardens,
But I did, anyway.
I’m unqualified to articulate the ways in which one learns
how to love graves just as much as greenhouses,
I’m a cruel catalyst at best.


Still, I wonder,
can lightning strike 4 times?
when does electricity become an electrical fire?
when does negligence become indulgence?
when does survival become murder?
and when does coincidence become confluence?
Have I forged my own death certificate?
because part of me is angry.
It was pure luck that they walked in and watched my performance art.
It was curiosity that compelled them join me here
It was my contradiction that captivated them,
but it was their own set of addictions that made them stay.
They made up their minds about me,
and never asked what I meant.
No one has the decency to pray for fallen angels.
horns and halos aren’t all that different,
(the devil is a highway that we get on and off).


Long before I left those boys
I begged for them.
I loved them,
I loved them,
I loved them.
They may not have heard me
But I happened,
I still made sound in the forest.
I might not have been what they (thought) they ordered
But they ate the fruit anyway
and they loved it,
And they lost it.
My bags made plenty of noise when I packed up before the bell rang.

Come on, boys,
We all did this,
We all do this.
We’re all just fucking 4th graders anxious to go home,
We are unapologetic
We are all geniuses,
no one buys our art
we’re still masterpieces.
Just because you didn’t see me leave
doesn’t mean I’ll stick around after class to explain.
I can’t,
I won’t make it fair just to soothe you,
I won’t remain here for the sake of sticking.
I left early,
But I am a four day weekend,
And I can’t be so sorry anymore
(I’m not really sorry anymore).

The only solace I can offer is a thorough investigation.
I can only remember
what our autopsies smelled like.
I tried to respect them as I opened me up
but birth and death are messy!
I examined my insides and found my rot
then dug it out with my own two hands.
When there was nothing more to report,
I said hello and goodbye to myself.
I kissed my lives and loves one last time
before I had to leave.
I shut off the lights and showed myself the door.

Oh, my bittersweet tooth throbs.
I am on my way!
I have more wars to survive
And lives to live.
I have my own wrecks to discover
and helm to steer.
I am grateful for having shed my skins,
and I hope they feel the same,
but my chest bumps nonetheless.
It taps me, and it whispers:
You are on your way!
You are on your way!

@unifiedweirdnesstheory | (X)

“I think you’ll find that what it comes to the subject of your obnoxious ego and your insatiable desire to run lives, I am right about you 105% of the time. Yes, I’m so correct about you it actually extends beyond what is conventionally and mathematically possible.”

“HA! AS FAR AS YOU KNOW, ANYWAY. YOU CLAIM THAT AND YET HERE I AM, STILL UNDEFEATED. IF YA KNOW SO MUCH ABOUT ME WHY HAVEN’T YOU FIGURED OUT HOW TO KILL ME, SIXER? OR DO YOU REALLY JUST TREASURE ME THAT MUCH?”

nickivi  asked:

42. Are they comfortable with where they are in life?

Diana: I am UNDEFEATED!

..She’s happy.
((Tumblr is being weird right now. I’ve tried to answer this tree times.))

anonymous asked:

Imagine having a staring contest with Roman and winning by kissing him

R: You can’t beat me.

D: Honestly, I agree. You can’t beat him.

You smirked.

Y/N: I can and I will.

Dean jumped out of his seat. 

D: Oh! You going to taking that, Ro?

R: No, I am not.

Roman was undefeated in staring contests. He won every time. You had never faced him and Dean warned you that you shouldn’t take him on. But you had a plan and you were going to win.

D: Ok, here we go. Three. Two. One. Go!

And then the contest began.

R: You aren’t going to win.

Y/N: I am.

Soon, a bunch of wrestlers had gathered around to watch the two of you. You could feel your eyes getting tired and Roman smirked. Now it was time for your plan. You leaned across the table and kissed him. He blinked and backed away.

D: Y/N did it. Y/N won!

The wrestlers clapped. And you stood from your chair.

Y/N: Yep, that’s right. I told you I would win.

You heard Roman clap.

R: Good job. Congratulations.

Y/N: And what is my prize?

He smiled.

R: This.

He pulled you to him and started kissing you. Yep, this was a good prize.

anonymous asked:

Hmm now why would I wanna be careful about getting you in a mood baby? Love when you're in a mood and the thought of you dancing like that is definitely getting me in one too. We can talk as little or as much about the tickling as you like angel, never wanna make you uncomfortable but you know I like it too ;) I don't think you could ever be annoying it'd be so cute to see you play fighting, thinking you're all tough when really you're just adorable. The sweetest, prettiest girl-H x

HEYYY now I am tough. The toughest. Undefeated, clearly. I could take you down easy.😇 YOU ARE SO CUTE and I would love to dance up on you. But I’d probably end up giggly and sleepy. May need you to carry me to bed. I’m sleepy but I’m talkative and giggly. This is what wine does. I would probably never stop talking or scratching your tummy or trying to tickle you. Whoops🤷‍♀️

What Cassiopeia/OT5 means to me... an explanation for the hateful stans

I guess I have to start this somewhere:

Hello! My name is Zor. I am from Puerto Rico.

Now this usually puts a lot of people on my side and many others against me. Now, I don’t particularly care if you don’t stand by mi side. But before you hate on me, let me explain to you what being an OT5 means to me.

I met DBSK in 2011 through the video Triangle. This was followed by Wrong Number, Balloons and Mirotic. I did not know their status at that time… but I met them as five. I feel in love with these men at that moment and I hadn’t realized it… and there was no turning back. 

I don’t want to go back ^_^

For me, when I found out about the situation, I embraced it. And decided to support them. Unequivocally, because when I decided to love them, my heart loved them equally.

So for me, being an OT5  It is not being naive, stupid and/or selfish. I am not being thoughtless. Neither is it "living in the past" dream of them reuniting once again. If that were to happen, that for me would be a BONUS.

I am a protector of the 5 stars as Changmin himself once named us. I am part of the Elite Cassiopeia he is so fond of. I am keeping my promise to Jaejoong that as Cassiopeia, I am undefeated. Regardless of what the world throws at me or them. Even with my last breath, they will know they have me. Because THAT was my promise to them 5, regardless if they are together or apart.

So please, respect me as I respect you. Please, don’t come to me trying to tell me what to choose and how to be, because the hardest choice for many fans to make when they decided to leave, for me was the easiest to choose. I will not let the sacrifices they made be put to waste by ignoring them for making personal decisions. That is not my place. My place is to love and support. 

When I chose to be an Cassiopeia/OT5, I chose to be everything:

I am a Jaeharem

I am a Yunholic/Know-It-All

I am a Xiahpwa

I am a Cheonsa

I am a Changminizer

I am a YooSu -YunJae -YooMin -HoMin -HoSu -JaeMin -MinSu -JaeChun -2U-JaeSu

I hold a pink, a blue, a green, a yellow, a purple and a RED lightstick

I am BigEast

I AM CASSIOPEIA.

So with that, let me finish this right:

Hello! My name is Zor. I am from Puerto Rico… and I AM PART OF THE ELITE CASSIOPEIA.

And I don’t need no membership card to say so ;)

“You seem quite confident,” said Laurent. “Even given the last Okton we rode together.”

“I am undefeated,” said Damen, smiling.

“Care to place a wager?”

Damen paused in his inspection of Laurent’s riding gear. Laurent’s squire had done a perfectly adequate job, but Damen sometimes liked to inspect everything himself just to be sure. “What kind of wager do you propose?”

Laurent rested his wrist elegantly on the post decorating the stable wall and tapped his fingers against it thoughtfully.

“Winner fucks loser,” Laurent suggested.

Damen smiled, and bent his head to the riding gear for a moment. When he lifted his head, he was still smiling. “I’ll fuck you whether we have wager or not,” he offered. “And if you want to fuck me–”

“So you are less confident than you seemed,” Laurent said, amused and sounding arch.

Damen laughed silently. “I accept.”

disloyalorder  asked:

courferre + combeferre as the king's son and courfeyrac as a noble's son who stands as his squire working on becoming a knight (so it's rather renly/loras-esque situation up in here)

Courfeyrac takes a step back to look over his best friend and future king. He is certainly not the young boy Courfeyrac once stole sweets from the kitchens with- he is a man, both in face and stature (he towers over Courfeyrac, which is a constant annoyance), and dressed in full mail and cape, he looks every bit the proud, regal future king he was always meant to be.

Courfeyrac hates it.

Today, they ride out to meet Combeferre’s future bride, Magdalena. She is known for her beauty, and her kingdom is known for its wealth; it is a perfect match, one that has been arranged for years. The mere thought of it makes Courfeyrac sick. He has thought of a hundred ways of telling Combeferre how he feels, and a thousand ways he could be put to death when Combeferre tells his father. So he keeps silent, and safe, and says, “My lord, your gauntlets.” 

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it when you and Enjolras address me by my title.” Combeferre huffs, holding out his arms to Courfeyrac. “Anyway, you should be pleased- father has agreed to reconsider your bid for knighthood upon our return.”

Courfeyrac swallows with difficulty. “Yes, my-” He pauses, remembering the command. “Combeferre.”

“Your Combeferre?” His lips turn upward in a smirk, and oh, if only he knew what smiles like that did to Courfeyrac, he might not be so cruel as to inflict them.

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