#But you can see him lurking around their gym at the beginning of the game

[iloveyumi]

Pokemon Trainer Yumi

I love the idea of Yumi in Pokemon - she'd definitely still be a school teacher, probably teaching both normal school and weekend or afternoon classes at trainer school, but she'd also be one of the first few gym leaders, having probably inherited it from Endeavour after he went on to become an elite four member. I feel like she'd share with Natsuo (who's also the only pokemon nurse who isn't nurse joy), like you could choose who you wanted to fight as the first gym leader and the other would be the second gym leader (so like a combo team) and they'd both give you different badges.

It'd be cool if they used the same team in different ways too. Like, Natsuo is more defensive and focuses on status conditions and stacking stat boosting moves (because I see him really liking the more strategic side of battles), and Fuyumi is more offensive and likes charging moves and 1 hit KOs (because she find battles that go on for too long kinda tedious and feels sorry for the pokemon). If they had one team per gym badge and they shared/swapped them.

Or if they had themed teams rather than type based teams - so Fuyumi had a team centered around teamwork/coordination, with moves that let you switch out after attacking or something. I think I like the first idea better though.

I also love the idea of Fuyumi's partner pokemon being something no one would suspect, like a Sandygast or something, because of the difference between this very sweet spoken, sensible lady rocking up with a Araquanid or a Gastrodon ready to beat your ass is hilarious to me.

Anywau, my point is, Pokemon x BNHA would be awesome.

[crystcrm]

Hiii!! Today marks the eventful return of Bones Anon. The last thing you wrote for me was absolutely fucking fantastic I still keep going back to read it!!

I see you've been writing a lot of genshin lately but I've never played that game so I am going back to Pokemon.

I want to steal Raihan's big hoodie so fucking bad. I just think it would be so comfy. I know I can buy one irl but I'm a broke bitch™ and it's usually too hot to justify wearing a sweater where I live.

So, if you're willing to write it, perhaps a nice little fic of Raihan discovering his bf enjoys snatching his hoodie? And deciding that he is very willing to go without his signature hoodie just to let him wear it.

Bonus points for fluffy shenanigans w/ Raihan teasing the reader and the reader snarking right back?? Just two smug bastards being smug to eachother (affectionately)

Bonus bonus points if reader is also tall as fuck and the hoodie actually fits them, because I see a whole lot of short reader and I want more rep for my lanky ass!! /j

Anyways thank u in advance I think ur cool as fuck

- 🦴

wahoo !! hello hello, bones anon ! ♡♡

truth be told, i already wrote this a long time ago, a while after i first saw it, but my uploading motivation went down the drain >< i've mostly been lurking on tumblr a lot and reading loads of things, but today i am here to do this ask justice by sifting in my docs and pouring out what you've asked for!

never steal from a dragon, but i'll do it anyway! ;; raihan x male reader

contents ;- fluff , sfw , established romantic relationship , tall reader ! , playful banter , please do not leave the stove unattended while cooking ^^;

proofread by @elvenxwarrior , who made sure the fic was "sufficiently british" ! ♡

Galar was peaceful these days to say the least, with Eternatus being captured and a new champion rising to the throne, there’s a lot that has changed. But it was still all the same, with beautiful days to be lived out, and a multitude of things to do. Be it befriend the Pokemon that were in the wild, or find incredible treasures on a long lasting journey. Or, perhaps, run a gym in a big city.

Morning sun rose over the streets of Hammerlocke, a beautiful city with a brilliant feel. All visitors would marvel at the architecture, from the middle aged stone walls to the historical lineage behind it. But in every city, there are homes- and today, we zoom in on a cosy little den- yours!

After much contemplation, you’ve decided to make a home in this city, for one very obvious reason.

Golden rays peeked through the blinds, day barely beginning but you’re already begging for a few more minutes in. It seems someone could agree, soft snores coming from none other than the city’s gym leader himself- Raihan, who laid next to you. His arms loosely wrapped around your body, holding you close as you could only suffer in silence, succumbing to his comforting grip paired with his almost ridiculous sleeping habits.

Perhaps it was because he dealt with dragons, or because he was always busy with something- be it training, or working out. Maybe he’s tired himself out to the point of dropping dead asleep the moment his head hits the pillow every night, or he’s swallowed too much sand in those sandstorms he conjured up in the stadium ( his mouth was always open, never shut even during those moments- it’s a wonder how he hasn’t gotten any in his lungs by now )… Or perhaps it’s only around you that he finds a moment of peace to just let go of all of his worries and simply enjoy the moment.

You weren’t exactly doing anything- you were merely just another trainer, but you were lucky enough to snatch away the heart of this untamed dragon. Perhaps, you could say that was the first thing you ever stole from him. Because you weren’t about to stop now!

Thanks to Raihan being such a deep sleeper, you easily slipped out of his hold. It was a lazy day today- the gym didn’t have to be open, but it probably wouldn’t stop your energetic boyfriend from rushing over there as soon as he got the chance. So, you decided to take it slow for now, because if it came down to it, you could definitely convince him to just relax for the day.

First matter of the day was simply getting ready, heading straight to the bathroom to take care of yourself. Morning bed hair? Fixed with a quick combing through. Smelly breath? Gone with a simple brush. Clothes?

…Clothes always proved to be the most difficult thing of the morning. What exactly would you wear today? The Hammerlocke City Gym Leader seemed to rub off on you, now taking into account what you’d wear for the day more often than not. Right now, you just stood there in your pyjamas- and that should change really quickly. But what would you wear after?

Returning to your currently shared bedroom, you glanced around as though a new sight might help jog up those brain cells to work a bit better. Well, there was the bare back of your boyfriend, a blanket barely covering him up as he found a pillow to replace your missing warmth. He had such defined muscles, yet you weren’t here to gawk. But the sight alone gave you what you thought was a brilliant idea. Your eyes scanned the room a little further, catching sight of the familiar piece of clothing on the floor of your room.

Raihan’s hoodie.

Oh, this was perhaps his own treasure that nobody has ever seen him without. Well, nobody but you of course. But now it was time for it to be stolen away- It feels just like that one series you saw before, where a group of thieves steal away one’s treasure to change their hearts! But you’re not here to change his heart of course, you’d prefer if his heart stayed yours, as yours remained his.

You spared the sleeping Raihan one last glance before smirking, immediately putting on the nice hoodie after tossing your pyjama shirt off. It fit quite nicely around you, but that was merely because you were just shy of the gym leader’s height. It was a blessing, really, because it meant you didn’t have to get on your tiptoes just to kiss him, or he didn’t have to bend down to an atrociously low level just to meet your eyes. Then again, it’s not like he isn’t used to crouching down- I mean, you’ve seen his battle stance, whenever he gets a little heated in the middle of a match. It’s a little hot, you could say, but since when is he not?

Now, it was time to carry on with your day, singing praises for your beloved boyfriend could come later!

Next came breakfast, and what better breakfast than… well, a big one? It was common for you and your boyfriend to eat your fill. After all, he needed all the energy to get through his day, and to start it all with a nice boost was great! Thankfully, your fridge was stocked with all sorts of things that you both liked, but it seemed today, the flour in your cabinets and eggs in your fridge called for you- the decision was made in your head, it’s time to make waffles! And as if that wasn’t enough, you pulled out the sausages from the freezer, and a few other things to make a not-so-lazy-but-still-kinda-lazy breakfast. At this point, could you even call it that? Oh, who gives a damn.

“ ‘tuuun…” The low rumble of a certain Pokemon sounded from below you, a beloved Appletun- your beloved Appletun, actually. It seems that she finally woke up from her own slumber, coming to check out what you were doing. Fortunately, you had just placed the kettle to brew, or else you might’ve tripped over the poor thing. Having a moment to spare, you decided to give her a little treat, and of course some much deserved pets before continuing to cook away some good breakfast.

It wasn’t until much later when a bunch of delightful smells filled your house did you hear a loud yawn from your room. It was quite obvious who it was, and you could only roll your eyes at how late he woke up. But it’s no matter, you would much prefer it this way, after all. Not long after, you finally heard his footsteps, and it was nice that he decided to actually get up and see you. You could only laugh to yourself over that, looking after a few things in the pan to make sure they didn’t burn.

“Hey, babe, have you seen my hood… ie,” that familiar voice slowly died down as he stepped right into the open space, eyes widening the best they can whilst still somewhat groggy and in much need of some more time with you. “...Stealin’ from me, ay?” A shirtless Raihan questioned, snorting a little as his eyes scanned you up and down. This was quite the unusual sight for him, but it… wasn’t unwelcome at all.

“Yer’ callin’ me a thief? I think you should check who left it lyin’ on my floor,” Your soft laughter filled the air, leaving the stove for a moment to get the hot water into a mug with a tea bag. “Tell ya’ what, I’ll trade you a cup of tea for it, eh, ehhh?” Doing your best to sound convincing, you held out the nice mug of tea to him. It was your favourite mug at that, actually, and you would never use it to serve anyone else. By your right mind, this was a mighty fine trade!

“I dunno… You still took it from me, y’know,” Raihan’s gaze sharpened momentarily, deciding that if anything, he might as well try. I mean, he’s done that a lot, trying despite many fruitless attempts. By many, you could say exactly ten.

“And I’m offerin’ something to you in return! Fair’s fair.”

“No ‘s not.”

“Yes it is.”

It was now a somewhat endless back and forth, both of you repeating the same thing as neither of you wanted to give up. Was it tiring? Not at all. You could do this all day with him. Actually, you probably did this everyday with him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. After a moment of contemplation, you finally decided to up the deal to something he can’t refuse…

“Fine, a nice cuppa’ aaand… a kiss from yours truly..~” You hummed, wiggling your eyebrows as though that was the best deal you could ever possibly give him. And truth be told, it was. You don’t think there was ever a day that his lips didn’t touch yours, except for the days before you started dating. It was the perfect pick up for him, maybe even better than a cup of tea alone.

“Hmm, you have yourself a convincing trade offer, babe,” Raihan crossed his arms as you slowly approached with your favourite mug in hand. That sweet smile on your face was something he wanted to wipe off, but only in one specific way.

“So? Made up yer’ mind or am I keeping my lips to myself?” You questioned almost impatiently, a hand on your hip as you set the mug down on the countertop nearby. Before you knew it, he had his arms around your waist, coming up oh so close to you.

With his eyes slowly fluttering shut, Raihan leaned in. He’s memorised everything, from how long it takes to get his lips to yours, to how to fit his arms around you.

“Takin’ my kiss first,” He proclaimed right before dipping his head down a little, his lips meeting yours. It was sweet and tender, just like any other time. Sure, he was wild and maybe a little reckless at times, but when you were in his arms, he found a way to let himself soften up a bit. He loved you to bits, after all.

Your arms wound around him in return, savouring the lovely morning you were having. It was a great day already, especially with the delicious view you were having. Soon your hands wandered a little, and you could feel him chuckle against your lips.

“Hands off the merchandise,” his eyes fluttered open with a soft laugh, followed by a mischievous snicker of your own when he swatted away your hands. “Greedy lil’ bugger,” He added, but you both knew that you were his greedy lil’ bugger.

“Oh, you know you love it,” You rolled your eyes, laughter definitely a bit too loud for the morning, but you couldn’t care less.

Raihan grabbed his tea, pretty much gulping it down despite the lack of sugar in it. It was already a bit cold, so there’d be no use in putting in any anyway. “I love it just as much as I like you in that, y’know,” the gym leader commented, eyes sweeping up and down your figure once again in the most obvious manner. He just really wanted you to know that he was checking you out, because goddamn, he’s wondering why he didn’t lend you any of his spare hoodies before this. “Guess I can go without the hoodie for the day.”

“Oh, for real?” Almost amused, you had to just make sure. Raihan simply nodded again, coming up to sneak an arm around your waist once more as he pressed his lips to your head and–

Click!

“Oi–?!” The sound of the shutter going off meant only one thing. Your head turned, whipping around to see Raihan’s Rotom phone flying behind you as it just took a picture. That sneaky lil-

“Aaand posted!” The gym leader chuckled as he dove in once more, pressing another quick kiss to your cheek. “And that’s another two kisses I stole from you, heh,” He snickered away, quietly shutting off any notifications from the post he just uploaded. He’ll deal with people questioning that he’s not single later, when he’s done messing with his lovable boyfriend.

“What the ‘ell!?” You weren’t mad at all, really, but you were really bewildered by the fact that he just did that. You expected many things, but that was not one of them.

“Ha! Look at yer’ face right now..!” He laughed a little more, before pulling out something that his silly brain could come up with. “Don’t be mad now, darling,” he paused, the nickname that he calls you when he likes to tease slipping past his lips. “Just wanted to show the world that I’m not on the market, y’know. Because someone stole my hoodie and… my heart.”

Oh, well, there was another thing you didn’t expect. Sure, you two had your playful little fights every now and then, but Raihan never failed to be smooth when he needed to be, and it always left you a little speechless.

“I… you… wh–”

But before you could actually get any words out, an annoying beep resounded from over the stove. You turned over to check and…

Shit.

Well, there goes breakfast.

Now you had to scramble over and salvage what you can, and being a wee bit of a useless bugger himself, Raihan simply stood there and laughed it off. Oh, he’ll see who’s laughing when you decide to ‘‘steal’’ from him again.

[seijorhi]

Rhi. 🥺 I still can't get over that sister fic and it's probably one of the best stuff you have posted but have you considered about the teams going yan for their Captains' sister? The Captains are oblivious about it and they think the members see her as their younger sib too so by extension they are so protective of her. But as soon as they turn their backs or leave, the whole platonic facade ceases and their so called friends are just touching her inappropriately.

asdfghjkl imagine this happening to Oikawa, Kuroo or Ushi's sister and then the idea that their so called best friends are the ones who started all of it. 😬😬😬

(sorry if this is way too long but Rhi, i love your works so much 🥺😭)

Have we talked about the fact that I’m a whore for Shiratorizawa? No? 😌

TW implied dub/non-con

You couldn’t be more different. Night and day, and maybe that’s why Tendou just likes ya so damn much. Don’t get him wrong, he adores the big guy. For one he’s never given Tendou shit, he’s a crazy good volleyball player and well... they’re friends. Have been since the moment he slid on up to the burgeoning ace on their first day of training and decided right there and then that they were.

But you, his cute, shy little sister (only by less than a year, but still) are everything that Wakatoshi is not. Soft. Pretty. All wide eyed and bleeding innocence. Wakatoshi looks like could beat a man bloody without breaking a sweat, but you’re far too sweet and demure for all of that. You couldn’t stand up for yourself if you tried. Tendou doesn’t blame him for wanting to keep you close and protect you - without somebody like him around you’d be all but helpless. You’re too trusting for your own good. Girls like you attract trouble, you’re just begging for somebody to come along and take advantage, and your big brother knows that much at least.

Ushiwaka’s mistake, however, is assuming that his teammates are exempt from that. You’ve been around them since the beginning, Wakatoshi not wanting to let you out of his sight with after school activities. It was coach who decided (after grumbling for almost a week straight) that if you were going to be hanging around every afternoon, you might as well be doing something useful - you were ‘promoted’ to manager. It means that you’re stuck with them. Every game, every training camp, every late night practice and every long bus ride.

But you don’t mind, do you? You love your big bro’s friends. They keep you safe, buy you little things to cheer you up, chase off any boys stupid enough to try and get in your pants. They might as well be your knights in shining armour.

You told him that once, after he and the others had to step in when some player from another team tried hitting on you after their game. Semi had snorted, badly covering it up with a cough, but he’d just smiled at you, pinching your adorable cheeks.

“Gotta keep our pretty princess all safe ‘n sound!”

And maybe that’s something that the two of you share - that obliviousness to the danger lurking right beneath your noses. Ushijima thinks that he can trust his teammates - his friends - around the one person he truly cares about, and you’re too naive to think that there’s any hidden motives behind the close, protective nature of the team.

At least until their beloved captain’s has the afternoon off practice for some youth league training thing.

Tendou’s never been all that great at keeping his hands to himself. He’d say that it’s kinda your fault for teasing him to the point of distraction all afternoon, wiggling that cute ass of yours every time you bent over to pick up a stray ball, but he knows you’re not doing it intentionally. No, you’re blissfully unaware of all the attention you’ve managed to garner from your team, the hungry looks that follow you as you flit across the gym helping tidy up. It’s part of the appeal, he supposed.

You trust them implicitly. You care about them.

The genuine smile that breaks out across your face when he offers to walk you back to your dorm room makes him all tingly with anticipation. Until, that is, a certain setter slides up behind the two you to interrupt, tossing an arm over your shoulder.

“Got room for one more?” Semi asks with a grin, his dark eyes glinting.

After all, you don’t actually believe that Tendou’s the only one who wants to play.

[lavendermilkandhoney]

6/22 The Hierophant – Goro Takemura

In Game

The Hierophant symbolizes a respect for tradition. It represents one who tries to maintain the established order, even though their very character is shaped by it. The Hierophant places his faith in institutions – for the alternative is pure chaos. Only by placing his faith in order can he draw strength.

Location

The Hierophant is right next to the white gate, located close to where V and Takemura meet Oda in Japantown.

Zodiac Sign : Taurus

The Hierophant is assigned to the zodiac sign Taurus because The Hierophant conveys a carefulness, and certain deliberateness, those same qualities can be found in the sign of Taurus.

Misty’s Reading (After the Heist 2/2) - Reversed

“But watch out. A reversed Hierophant lurks in the darkness. He brings crisis both in life and authority, rebellion and fanaticism… he is a grave threat.”

In Tarot

UPRIGHT: Spiritual wisdom, religious beliefs, conformity, tradition, institutions

REVERSED: Personal beliefs, freedom, challenging the status quo

The Hierophant is the masculine counterpart to the High Priestess. He is also known as the Pope or the Teacher in other Tarot decks and is ruled by Taurus.

The Hierophant is a religious figure sitting between two pillars of a sacred temple – though this temple differs from the one in which the High Priestess sits. He wears three robes – red, blue and white – and a three-tiered crown, both representing the three worlds over which he rules (the conscious, sub-conscious and super-conscious). In his left hand, he holds the Papal Cross, a triple sceptre that signifies his religious status. He raises his right hand in a religious blessing, with two fingers pointing towards Heaven and two towards Earth.

Before him kneel two followers. The Hierophant’s task is to pass down his spiritual wisdom and initiate the two into the church so they can take up their appointed roles. This imagery speaks to a shared group identity and a rite of passage to enter the next level. The crossed keys at the Hierophant’s feet represent the balance between the conscious and subconscious minds and the unlocking of mysteries, which only he can teach.

Upright

The Hierophant card represents an established set of spiritual values and beliefs and is often correlated with religion and other formal doctrines. Before you can discover your own belief systems and make your own choices (as associated with the next card, the Lovers), the Hierophant encourages you to learn the fundamental principles from a trusted source.

Work with a teacher, mentor, or guide to teach you about spiritual values and beliefs in a structured way. He may be an authority or a kind and generous mentor who nurtures your spiritual awareness and helps you access the Divine by understanding the traditions and core principles. You may also undertake a period of formal study as you delve into a subject that has been widely explored and documented.

If you have already mastered a particular field of study, you may be taking on the role of teacher and mentor to others. In this position, you honour and acknowledge your responsibility to share your knowledge in a structured way, one that respects the age-old traditions.

The Hierophant‘s arrival suggests you are following convention and staying within the bounds of a ‘tried and tested’ model. You are not yet willing to go out on a limb or offer any new and innovative ideas. Instead, you adhere to the key principles and rules that you know will lead to a successful result.

The Hierophant may call you to honour family traditions or sacred rituals that sit neglected. You are being asked to commit to spiritual practice in its most wholesome form – no customisation, no adaptation, no bending the rules. If you have been lacking ritual and tradition, create a regular practice such as daily prayer or saying grace before a meal. Consider exploring your spiritual or religious heritage.

The Hierophant Tarot card often speaks to group membership or being part of an institution. You may enjoy a deep sense of comfort being surrounded by people who have well-established belief systems and explicit values. Finding them may be as significant as exploring a new church or religious group, or as simple as joining a gym or online Tarot community. This card is about identifying with others and a way of thinking that will prompt further learning.

Reversed

In its most positive form, the reversed Hierophant reminds you that you are your own teacher. All the wisdom you seek comes from within – not from some external source or power. You are being guided to follow your own path and adopt your own spiritual belief systems rather than blindly following others’. It may feel unsettling at first as you make your own way, but over time, you will learn to trust yourself and tap into your inner knowledge. Others may question your motivations to go against tradition, but you know deep within that now is the time.

With the reversed Hierophant, you no longer need external approval to succeed. You are ready to go it alone and do it your way, even if that means going against convention. Give yourself permission to trust your inner guidance system as you create your own path forward.

The Hierophant reversed is also about challenging the status quo. You see alternative ways of viewing the world and are ready to test the very ideas and concepts you were taught were the ‘truth’. You no longer accept the rigid structures, tradition and dogma surrounding you; instead, you seek out opportunities to rebel and reclaim your personal power. If you feel restricted or constrained and have lost your sense of freedom and flexibility, now is the time to make your own rules.

The reversed Hierophant encourages you to examine ‘the way we do things around here’ and ask yourself whether it aligns with your values. You may have been running on autopilot so far and following the crowd, but now you see that changes need to be made. Taken further, the Hierophant reversed is like a rebellious teenager who begins to question society and take part in anti-institutional activities. There may be a run-in with authorities or conflict with a parent or authoritative figure.

---

Thank you so much @cybervesna​ for the polish traduction from the official guide book and its associations with the characters!

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Reunion Job

leverage 3.02

Madavhi: All my work, erased, and I was only days away from cracking Manticore.

Nate: What's "Manticore"?

Madavhi: It's an electronic surveillance system. The Iranian government uses it to track protesters over cell phones, social networks, even e-mail.

Hardison: Yeah, hacker underground's flipping out about it. They use GPS to pinpoint a dissident, and then they swoop in and make the arrest.

Madavhi: The Internet made this protest possible, but now it's just a –

Nate: A liability? The government uses the people's weapon against them

- - - - -

Nate: "Cyrus"? It's "Mr. Madavhi." You can't get that attached.

Hardison: Fine. "Mr. Madavhi." He could go make a fortune working for Google or Microsoft. No, instead he risks his life fighting the bad guys. This is so our game.

Eliot (at the table behind them): He wasn't hit by the Vezarat. (comes around to sit with Hardison and Nate)

Nate: What, are you lurking?

Eliot: Yeah. I'm a lurker. It's my thing

- - - - -

eliot’s smile and raised eyebrows (x2) at hardison tho

+ he’s also wearing a red flannel with his leather jacket

- - - - -

Hardison: What's the Vezarat?

Eliot: That's the Iranian secret police. And trust me, if they wanted Cyrus, he wouldn't be sitting here talking to us.

Nate: But the Vezarat is still our logical target. So we should check our sources and see if there's a safe house in the area.

Hardison: So we're on this?

Nate: Yeah, well, we were always on this. I just wanted you to explain to me why. (gets up and heads for the Poker Room)

Hardison: You know how I feel about Mind games, Nate. Negatively. What are you looking at, lurker?

ELIOTS SMILE

- - - - -

Sophie: Eliot. Eliot, get rid of it. Ugh!

Eliot: (chuckling) I think he likes you.

Sophie (stands): You're gonna pay for this

eliot: mocks her

sophie: imma get back at you SO HARD and you’re never gonna see it coming

- - - - -

“That’s gonna cost ya” “I gotta dock ya”- hardison and eliot like a million times in this episode

- - - - -

Parker: At the East corner. (pushes vent out and enters the room) For a den of evil spies, this place smells delicious. Hardison, confiscate some pastries. (sits down at computer) Okay, no sign of Cyrus' hardware.

we love seeing parker in vents in her element + CONFISCATE PASTRIES FOR HER

- - - - -

Nate: Any of you ever trimmed a bonsai?

Eliot: Well, you know, I did. I was in Osaka, and I met this Japanese policewoman at a geisha bar....

- - - - -

Parker (to Sophie): Why is Eliot pouring your tea? Hmm? Did you brainwash him again?

Sophie: Mm, neurolinguistic programming. It's amazing what you can do with the power of suggestion. "Sugar." "Squeezed." a few strategic pats on the arm.

(Sophie pats Eliot on the arm and he pours her more tea, then realizes what Sophie has done)

Eliot: Damn it!

Sophie: You owe me for that roach business!

Eliot: Sophie, not again. (walks away)

okay but SHES DONE THIS TO HIM BEFORE LMFAO + a bonus parker and hardison laughing

also parker was eating a plate of pastries so that means thE BOYS GOT SOME FOR HER I LOVE IT

- - - - -

parker and hardison go into the office and be like 👀👀👀 wow he’s lonely

- - - - -

Eliot: Nobody else thinks it's weird that you can just buy anybody's yearbook online?

Hardison: You know, it's real cute, man, how you still believe in privacy

- - - - -

Nate: Here we go. Uh, Mrs. Zavransky, math teacher. Now, I bet if we turn to the cheerleaders... (turns page) Yes. Oh, Mandy. Mandy Babson.

Parker: What does the "DD" Mean?

Eliot: Yeah, right...

Nate: Seriously?

Hardison: Yeah, right. Two scoops of ice cream, just perfect.

she’s baby leave her alone

also bless hardison for not wanting to tarnish her

- - - - -

Parker: Aw, I feel bad for the nerd.

Eliot: Don't feel bad for this guy. Getting bullied in high school Is still no excuse for propping up dictators. He got bulled his whole high-school career. He's not criminal.

Sophie: Um...

Parker: Yeah, he is.

Sophie: Don't think about that.

Eliot: Not a bad criminal.

Hardison: Hey, what makes you think I got bullied in high school?

Eliot: Well, "A," You got a green hornet doll.

Hardison: Well, first of all, it's a limited-edition action figure. Second, it is green lantern. Educate yourself.

Eliot: Wow.

Hardison: Now pay attention. Get it right.

eliot “not a bad criminal” spencer knows that hardison is a good person with solid morals

also, eliot to some extent knows about hardison’s action figues which means that he has either seen them or hardison has told him specifically that he had them. this means that they have had, even if eliot seemed annoyed, some sort of conversations/hardison-talking-at-him-conversations and eliot LISTENED to a certain extend that he was able to recall this

- - - - -

Nate: Guys, wait, wait. Listen, listen. We got a locker combination, we have a teacher's name, and we have a crush. So, Duberman, he has made his old high school his Roman room.

Parker: Of course.

Nate: "Of course"? What's a Roman room? You have no idea, right? You know—

Parker: Nn.

Nate: You don't have any idea? It's a, it's a memory technique. Each of his passwords corresponds to an object in a space that he's intimately familiar with. In his case, the hallway of his old high school where he kept his locker. Now, if I were to make this bar my Roman room, everything I need to remember is right here. For instance, This, uh... My bank password would be "Balmoor." And my e- mail password would be Fitzy, here.

- - - - -

Parker: Hey. Nate just gave us his passwords.

Hardison: No, but I got all his passwords. You want to see his Netflix queue? He's got, like, every season of "Rockford files" every season of "Sex and the city," That show "Psych”.

chaotic children

- - - - -

Parker: You want to break into the high school? I could do that blindfolded. Yeah let's do it blindfolded.

HER HER HAVE FUN

- - - - -

Hardison: What do you know? Class of '85 has a reunion coming up in 8 months.

Nate: Hmm.

they all smile conspiratorially and eliot’s smile in specific gave me serotonin

- - - - -

(Parker sets up a video camera and walks past a board of photos)

Parker: So many awkward people in so many ugly outfits.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Yeah, you're lucky you never went to high school. Nothing but heartbreak and homework.

[High School Gym]

Parker: Didn't you go to your prom?

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Uh...I was kind of busy.

[Flashback]

(a teenaged Hardison is sitting at a computer making a transfer from the Bank of Iceland)

Hardison: Looks like the Bank of Iceland's paying off Nana's medical bills. That's dope!

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Good times

- - - - -

Hardison: Besides, I'm sure you already had your high- school fun. Big man on campus. What, quarterback?

[Flashback]

Kid: Come on, Eliot. This is so lame. Quarterbacks do not take Home Ec.

Eliot: I got my reasons.

Kid: Phew! Let's get out of here.

Girl: Eliot, like this. (leans over Eliot, showing her cleavage) Knives are like people. It's all about the context.

[Exterior Dubertech]

Eliot: I had many interests

- - - - -

hardison getting too into the high school drama lmao

- - - - -

Hardison: Not exactly. (looking at information on monitors) She's a hired gun.

[Hallway]

Sophie: An assassin? Nikki’s an assassin?

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Yeah, I guess we weren't the only ones with the bright idea to pose as alumni. This chick's connected to wet work jobs All up and down the East coast. Russian mob, Italian mob. There's a New Zealand mob?

her name is miranda miles *squints at the file on hardison’s computer* bruh no way she’s only 25 ??? they even give her height and weight but I guess that’s how all wanted files go

also in one of the commentaries didn’t they say that she was married to that other assassin ???

- - - - -

(a piece of door falls in and the Vezarat leader looks in)

Vezarat Leader: The health inspector?

Eliot: I'm gonna have to dock you again

LMFAO

also he’s wearing a grey flannel under his jacket

- - - - -

(Eliot knees the leader in the face, then pulls him up and punches him in the head. He turns to duck a blow from the other man and hits him in the head with one of Duberman’s chess trophies)

Eliot: Checkmate.

(Eliot throws the trophy down on the man. Behind him the leader stands up and cracks his neck)

Eliot: Or not.

he did the lil flip thing with the trophy

- - - - -

(Sophie hits Nikki in the head with the extinguisher and takes off her shoes)

Sophie: I always hated cheerleaders.

(Nikki swings several times and Sophie blocks each blow with the extinguisher, hurting Nikki’s wrist)

Sophie: It's mean girls like you that always ruined high school for the rest of us!

Nikki: What the hell are you talking about?

(Nikki kicks but Sophie moves to one side. Nikki tries to punch but Sophie blocks with the extinguisher. Sophie dodges a kick and hits Nikki in the head, then pushes her down and runs away. Nikki grabs her gun and fires after Sophie, missing her)

Nikki: Damn it

- - - - -

Nikki: Now, why would I do that?

(Parker walks forward and tasers Nikki in the neck)

Nikki: Ohh!

Nate: That's why.

(Nikki falls to the ground, convulsing. Parker grabs her legs and starts to pull her away)

Parker: Catering, what a business

we love to see parker tasering people

- - - - -

on today’s edition of things that aren’t weapons that eliot uses as weapons, our guy literally used one of the goons’ bodies to hit another goon and send them both down

what a king

- - - - -

Mandy: Your votes are in for the king and queen of the reunion! And the lucky winner is, Grace Peltz and Drake McIntyre!

Schmitty: Mac attack! Yeah!

(the crowd escorts Nate and Sophie forward)

Nate: Uh, very funny, Hardison.

Hardison: Oh, you think I did this? Naw, man, I don't rig elections. I mean, I could, but...

Sophie: Parker, Was this you?

Parker: (hanging upside down) I didn't even know they had kings and queens in high school

- - - - -

Hardison (looks up): May I have this dance, miss?

(Parker lowers herself on her line and they begin dancing)

Parker: So this is what high school was like, huh?

Hardison: Ah...Pretty much.

Eliot: Hello?

[Exterior Dubertech]

(Eliot walks out of the building as Sloane gets to his feet)

Eliot: Everybody having a good time at the dance? Anybody wonder if Eliot made it out?

(Eliot punches Sloan, who falls back into the bushes)

Eliot: Does anybody wonder if Eliot's alive? Hello?!

[High School Gym]

(the two couples continue to dance as the music plays)

🥰 parker’s feet not touching the floor 🥰

also aww poor eliot someone care about him pls

[the-great-tiger-of-mumbai]

This blog still active?

//TL;DR: Semi-active and a lurker more often than not. I ended up writing a fucklong essay as a response, lmao, so I’m just gonna tuck that under the Read Below.

I’m busier more often than not, and part of the inactivity with the Tiger blog is mostly because of the lack of a fuller Punch-Out!! community to interact with. I’ve tried reaching out to other fandoms, OCs, and even the Smash community, but each interaction felt so isolated and in a bubble that I end up burning my muse out quickly. This doubles when I use up prompts.

My RP style, I come to realize, works best with a thriving community that interacts with each other even if I’m absent, with constant storytelling that gives us motivations to meet up, catch up, solve problems, and feel alive. For the most part nowadays, you’ll find me RPing in WoW as a Storyteller, as not only can we RP in real time, but I can watch others interact and feel more of a community to merge into. Some years ago, the Punch-Out!! community had that--I was the resident Great Tiger, there were a handful of Macs, Joes, and Arans, we had a Don, we even had a Carmen. Folks would come to Tiger for shenanigans usually involving him being a shitlord showboat around them, or just for nice hangouts. Hell, some of the best interactions I’ve had often involved pushing Tiger into romance despite being asexual and averse to relationships, or when there was a story thread going on. Alas, not everyone can put the time and energy in RPing a thread like I do, and people run out of muse for good. And that’s perfectly fine and valid. Fads come and go, interests change, people outgrow, graduate, get work, get married, etc. Life moves on. I’m still in contact with some RP buddies and I still check out their blogs on Tumblr. Myself? I mostly lurk nowadays on other people’s RP blogs just to see how they’re doing because I still enjoy watching other people interact. And if I do actually RP, it’s likely going to be on @peppy-pilot​, as the Star Fox community is still fairly thriving.

I can, however, be more active when there are people to be active with.... but frankly, I can’t RP in an isolated bubble via one-on-one threads anymore. I need a community. I want to sit at tables and watch my colleagues talk about their recent date gone back. I want to have a poker game wherein we all yell on top of our lungs over who is cheating or not. I want casual hangouts in the gym where we throw barbs at each other while sparring or just exercising. And no, I’m not talking ships and coffee dates and happy endings AU where nobody is anyone’s enemy--they feel obviously constructed, lifeless, inorganic, and frankly, boring. Most RP I see within Tumblr (so not just Punch-Out!!) are very heavily involved shipping, interactive fix-fics, and isolated incidents that go nowhere, especially AUs where continuity doesn’t matter. I’m not slamming on those who enjoy them, though. You do you. And I did enjoy them for a time. But when that is all I have for RP, then I lost interest fast as I am taken out of the element wherein I join the RP to begin with: living the life of an Indian boxer capable of magic.

There is also the fact that few people will put as much effort into how I RP and it frustrates me. I have nothing--absolutely nothing--against people who only want short, sweet, shitposty funtimes; they’re fun too. But sometimes I want something well meaning that brings genuine character development. And sometimes... people don’t care about Tiger being more than a magical handsome Hindi-speaking boxer in a turban. And that’s fine--because in the end, in Nintendo canon, that’s all he really is. Sadly, past experiences with some RP here often don’t try to explore the humanity in our interactions beyond ships and other superficial scenarios. It gets tiring. 

And the same applies with my partners as well. If I’m going to interact with a Don Flamenco or an Aran Ryan, for instance, I don’t just want our interactions entirely be about Carmen, potatoes, and cheeseburgers. Give me a peek into Don’s life under Francisco Franco, or what Aran thinks about the Troubles. Give me Don’s opinions of Spain’s historical fascination of France and how it shaped Madrid today. Give me Aran’s thoughts on why he’s speaking English when he could be speaking Gaelic. No? Too hard? Too much history? Too much research to do? You just want to focus RP and interactions with Don using eyeliner and Aran having McDonald’s? Fine, go ahead, you can have your fun, I give you my blessings. But know that, in contrast, it’ll feel like my countless, countless hours of researching Sikh and Mumbaikar culture, hand and head gestures, understandings of the English language, fashion, Mumbai’s city demographics and layouts, the impact of the 1984 Sikh Massacre, and making Great Tiger a living and breathing person beyond memes would be absolutely complete waste of time.

I am not dissuading anyone from interacting with me if all you want to do is silly fun shitposty shenanigans. Those are fun, we can do it. But I will be absolutely upright and upfront in that I might get bored with that quickly, and if you panic at the idea of trying to keep up with me, just so you can have quality Great Tiger interactions, stop right there. It’s just roleplay. It’s supposed to be fun. And I am not your be-all-end-all person for all your Great Tiger needs. Don’t force yourself into something you will not enjoy. I will never forget about the time I have accidentally discouraged people from roleplay because I took the moment to tell someone that you should not mistaken turban-wearing Indians for Muslims. I am fully aware I intimidate people, but that is mostly because I’m a culture/history nerd who has been reading, writing, and creating since the 90s. I just have more experience under my belt and my RP needs are a reflection of that. If you’re absolutely new, hit me up. If you’re also experienced and want to try me out, go for it and send me an Ask or tag me in a post! If we’re not compatible, we’re not compatible, but at least we gave it a try. Discord is also an option (and a far better medium for private one-on-one RPs than Tumblr), and if you like WoW and are able to join a private server, I’m available on Freedom. As of this writing we’re currently on Legion in the Suramar arc and my main characters are a couple of draenei twins and an orc.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Droplets of Lethe, Chapther 2

Well, it’s up late but it’s here - the second chapter of my @do-it-with-style-events mini-Bang fic, Droplet’s of Lethe!

(Though I’m now at over 11k and just getting started, so there’s nothing mini about this mini-fic!)

In this chapter, Crowley begins to look for answers, but must leave Aziraphale alone in the shop to do so...

-- (Excerpt) --

The Bentley roared across the Thames, squeezing down the space between lanes, bypassing cars and buses and the occasional pedestrian. Crowley missed them all, one miraculous escape after another. Nothing would dare get in his way today. He didn’t have time for that.

He held the ring in his fingers, clutching it as tightly as he could.

Already the black tarnish had brushed off, which was good. It meant it probably wasn’t actual Hellfire, which would have destroyed the ring entirely. But there were still many types of fire down in the pits, and a faint scent of sulfur and brimstone hung over the bright gold metal.

It had to be Hell. He didn’t know why they’d come for the angel, but who else could it be? The claw marks all over his wards spoke of multiple attacks, yet Aziraphale hadn’t said anything. Not a word. Any time Crowley had asked, he’d just smiled and said this shop is the safest place in all of London, my dear boy. Stop worrying about me.

He’d almost let himself start to believe it. And now...

Crowley hadn’t really been able to reset the elaborate protections, merely looped the two ends of the wards together. Hoped it would hold. But above that, he’d woven his own protections, and once they were in place, no mortal or supernatural being would be able to see the bookshop until he personally pointed it out.

That was the kind of protection he could count on. Aziraphale might be the Guardian, but Crowley was very good at hiding.

Certainly much better than the demon he was looking for.

South of the Thames and eastward, the winds started to pick up, clouds dotting the sky that hadn’t been visible from Soho. He paused the Bentley at an intersection, cranking down the window to take a deep sniff. Despite the signs of rain, there was a hint of desert in the air.

It had already taken over half an hour to get here - and another ten minutes of driving around that Crowley could not afford - before he finally saw his target, lurking outside a park on an otherwise unremarkable street lined with brownstone townhouses. Dark curls of hair tugged and twisted in the wind, and the playground equipment rattled. Three children who had been clamoring all over the jungle gym clutched for dear life, trying not to fall on their heads, while their mothers pulled sweets out of backpacks for afternoon snacks.

“Oi. Wanker,” Crowley called, jumping out of the Bentley. “Stop creeping around kids’ playgrounds, you get arrested for that these days.”

The other demon turned to him with a smile more like the baring of teeth, showing fangs wide and curved like a lion’s. “Ah, Crawly. Where have you been hiding?”

“Crowley,” he snapped, shoving the demon’s narrow frame back against the fence. For a second, the pointed face seemed to pass through an inky mist, emerging from the other side with different, softer features - straighter hair, rounded chin, wider shoulders. “What the Heaven have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” the demon dragged fingertips across Crowley’s arm. They looked like human fingernails, but he could feel the claws tugging at his sleeve. “Chaos. Destruction. Someone has been letting the humans feel content and safe for thousands of years. Time to bring back a little of the old ways, don’t you think?”

“That include attacking angels in their homes?”

“They are the enemy,” the shifter scoffed. “And we are at war.”

“No, we aren’t. There is no war, there was this whole big thing about that. In case you missed it.” Crowley shoved the demon again, causing the fence to rattle and creak under their combined weight. Again, the face dissolved into black shadow, and returned, this time with soft dark eyes and pouting lips. “And I specifically recall telling you lot that he and I are to be left alone.”

“Can’t blame an udug for trying, can you?” The demon slid out of his grasp as easily as water, and moved down the fence, swaying like the wind. “I thought he was supposed to be this big, scary unstoppable warrior. What’s he doing, sending you to make his threats?”

“Like you don’t know.” Crowley clenched his fists, trailing behind. “What did you do?”

“I? Not a thing.” The wind howled again, and the jungle gym rattled, shifted, until one bar broke, leaving a child suddenly dangling, screaming in true fear. “Just as I won’t do a thing to those children over there. Just the work of gravity. I won’t intervene until someone asks me to.”

Crowley watched the mothers rush over to pull the children free, clutching them close, herding them away from danger. “It won’t work, you know,” Crowley grumbled. “Maybe three thousand years ago you could convince them to sell their souls to keep their children safe, but these days? If that thing breaks they sue the company that made it. Write angry letters to the council. And the kid gets to walk around school with a cast for everyone to sign. They don’t need you to protect them.”

“You sound almost proud.” The demon turned again to face Crowley, passing through swirling blackness to emerge looking ten years older, short hair streaked with grey, stubble growing across a square jaw. “We will teach them to fear again.” A cold smile, showing just a hint of fang. “But to more immediate matters, no, I didn’t do anything to your angel, apart from rattle his defenses in the night. Sounds like someone else was more successful.”

“You’re Hell’s new agent in London,” Crowley pointed out, crossing his arms. “If it wasn’t you, you know who did it.”

“Perhaps.” The demon circled around Crowley and sauntered away, ignoring the mothers as they hauled their children back to the bench, checking for injuries. “If you tell me what happened, I’m sure I can...guess.”

“I didn’t come here to play games. Who was it? How did they get in? What did they do?”

(Find out the rest on AO3!)

[writer-or-whatever]

Can you please recommend more Spiderson/Irondad fanfics other than the one post? please😄!

I absolutely can! 

So now I bring you part two of the Irondad & Spiderson Fic Rec: 15 more Irondad fics in no particular order. 

A Horrific Game of Hide and Seek by Buckets_Of_Stars

Aside from feeling strange and having his Spidey Sense go off every five seconds, Peter is having a pretty good week. His Dad is home and he can even hang out with his friends more.Too bad things don’t stay that way.One mistake as Spider-Man changes everything and the teenager realizes the importance of always listening to his gut. Because that might be the very thing keeping him safe.

word count: 15k

tw: graphic descriptions of violence

A Stark Contrast To The Expected by Buckets_Of_Stars

When Peter and Tony leave the Annual Stark Charity Event, they are expecting to have a relatively quiet night in the Tower, away from the demanding crowds and invasive News Reporters. But when they become the target of one man's drunken hatred, things quickly take a turn for the worst.

word count: 9k

tw: graphic descriptions of violence

And You’re Miles Away by losingmymindtonight

College is scary, even for teenage superheros.

word count: 3k

Can we skip to the good part? by yourgaydad

A day after his sixteenth birthday Peter finds out that Tony Stark is his biological father. But what the hell is he supposed to do now?

***

If Peter said that he never thought about Mr. Stark as his dad he would be lying. He didn’t do it consciously of course. It was just those things at the back of his head that sometimes got closer to the surface. But whenever a thought like ‘Wonder what dad would say’ or ‘Is dad picking me up today?’ occurred, he felt extremely embarrassed about it.

Now, instead of being ecstatic about Mr. Stark being his father, the boy felt agitated at just the thought of talking to the man. What was he going to think? That Peter wanted more attention? Money? His name?

word count: 23k

Congratulations, it's a Boy by capiocapi

"Sir, I have the results.”

“Okay, Jarvis. Hit me.”

“It’s a match. 99.9% chance that he is your biological son, which is the percentage needed to be recognized by law as a biological parent.”

Tony’s stomach did a funny swooping dance. “Great. Congratulations to me then, eh? It’s a boy.”

word count: 45k

Heed my senses, I can't do it alone by Webtrinsic

Peter thought things were going his way, he really did. His relationship with Tony was going great, his grades were steady, May was supporting his heroic debuts and his friendship with Ned had never been stronger.

But when the man lurking in the shadows, whose all-consuming addiction to the senses affiliated with the red and blue vigilante kidnaps him, things quickly go south.

In the meantime, Tony's fearful he'll never find the boy he's come to see as his son.

Will Peter ever be alright? Tony's not sure, but he'll do everything and anything to ensure that boy's well-being.

He just hopes the world isn't too much. It's Tony against the world, and for Peter, he'd win every time.

word count: 19k

tw: graphic descriptions of violence, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced suicide attempts

Oh Father, I Have Never Known A Darkness So Intense by mermaidbigfoot

A fire claimed everything Peter had known. Tony get’s custody of Peter but nothing is okay.

word count: 2k

Promotions Aren't Always A Good Thing by agib

"When Peter was almost thirteen, May met Carter." "Not too many months after Carter moved in, May got a promotion at work."

When May gets a new boyfriend, Peter's okay. When Carter moves in, he can deal. When May gets a promotion so she works days and Carter works nights, Peter finds it harder to deal. When Carter starts abusing him, he begins to feel crushed by the weight of it all.

word count: 67k

tw: abuse, graphic descriptions of violence

Spaghetti With A Side Of Panic by Buckets_Of_Stars

Getting all A’s in the Stark household used to be a requirement, something exspected of a young Tony, genius kid prodigy. It was always brushed off, made to further elevate Howard’s immaculate reputation.

Now, however, it was a cause for celebration, one where Peter, Tony and Happy would go out to dinner and stuff their faces with as much spaghetti as they could.

Too bad no one told Peter that garlic kills spiders.

word count: 3k

tw: near death experiences, graphic descriptions of violence

Spider-Like by possiblyobsessed

Tony Stark and Peter Parker discover/talk about the less convenient and lesser known effects of the spider bite. Because getting bitten by a radioactive spider can't have all good effects.

word count: 4k

The Black And The Blue (All That It Takes Out Of You) by Buckets_Of_Stars

David wasn't a person Peter would ever want to be around, but with him being May's new boyfriend and all, it makes it harder and harder to avoid him. But it was fine, May was happy and of course, Peter still has Tony.

But that was before the hitting started. Before David spit neglectful words in his face and the spiderling begins to question his very worth.

Tony, on the other hand, is not having it.

word count: 4k

tw: graphic descriptions of violence, child abuse

The Chilling Realities Of Hunting And Being Hunted by Buckets_Of_Stars

All Peter and Tony had to do was cross the mountains. That’s it. Just climb a few hills and get to the Convention. They didn’t count on the snow, or the wind, or the fact that neither of them have cell service.

And they definitely didn’t count on the fact that they would be hunted—stalked—as they sit, freezing and shaking, on the side of the road.

word count: 13k

tw: stalking, graphic descriptions of violence

The Education Complication by Buckets_Of_Stars

When young Peter Stark was diagnosed with Asthma, he was given two very important rules to always follow:

1. No long distance running. 2. Always have your inhaler with you.

But when a new Gym Teacher with a hatred toward Iron Man gets hired, the 13 year old is going to find that following these two simple steps has never been more difficult.

word count: 3k

tw: graphic descriptions of violence

The World Is Wide (But I Feel So Small) by Buckets_Of_Stars

When Peter is abruptly taken from Tony by a mysterious criminal, the teen has to fight tooth and nail to make it out of the man's clutches, testing him every step of the way as he tries desperately to get back to his Dad.

Tony just wants to find his child and make the bastard responsible pay for his actions.

By any means necessary.

word count: 26k

tw: graphic descriptions of violence

Words Echo (Through My Head) by Buckets_Of_Stars

A quick stop at the Avengers Compound quickly becomes something much more when Peter and Tony meet up with Steve Rogers.

And he is not happy.

word count: 6k

tw: graphic descriptions of violence

Now that I’ve written all this out, I’ve realized that a lot of these are by Buckets_Of_Stars, but they’re some of my favorites so... oh well I guess. 

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 27: She’s Trying to Make a Devil Out of Me

Shizuka emerges from her blanket of darkness, waking with a jolt. The first thing she sees is Moya staring down at her, a worried expression melting into relief. “Moya?” she mutters, looking around.

She is lying on a narrow bed in an enclosed space with white walls. Equipment of various purposes line the walls. It takes her a moment to remember first what an ambulance is, and another to realize she’s in one.

“Hey, Shizuka,” Moya groans, falling painfully into the seat next to the gurney, rubbing her side. Her right arm is in a sling, and she is covered all over in hastily applied bandages.

“... Ph-Phantasma, where--!? Where is she--?!”

She sits up to receive a flash of red and blue light in her face. From beyond the doors at the back of the ambulance, she can see the exterior of the gym. Gathered in front of the entrance is another ambulance, a police squad car and an imposing steel paddywagon, LAPD emblazoned on its side.

And there, despite towering over the officers, Phantasma appears incredibly small. Her head hung low, her ankles and wrists cuffed together. Her mask is gone, and the face that hid beneath is that of a middle aged woman, lined and framed by a surprising amount of dark flowing hair, streaked with grey.

“Whu--?

“You can relax. She’s done. I don’t know how you pulled it off, but you saved us…” Moya says, calming her. Shizuka sinks into the bed, her head suddenly light as air. She barely hears her friend speaking. “You kicked the fight right out of her. They say a fight’s only done when one opponent’s lost the will to win, and I never thought I’d see that happen to Phantasma. She lost everything… even this.” Moya raises her still-functioning left hand, and in it is a silver disc.

Shizuka peers at it, taking a moment to register its shape and form. Squinting, she sees the vague outline of a humanoid figure reflected in the silver material. But it is not her reflection, nor anyone else’s.

The figure moves slightly, as if alive within the reflection. In that instant she recognizes what it is, despite never seeing one before, and snatches it from Moya’s hand. She stares. “Where did this come from!?”

“... Phantasma’s head,” Moya says, puzzled, “Like I said, you knocked it right out of her. Her Stand ability’s in this thing, apparently. ABRAXAS is gone for good now.”

“Then this really is…! Do you know what this is!?”

“Do I know what…?” she paused, then taps her forehead with her finger, “Sure I know. I’ve got one too.”

“What!!? But where did…! How?” She springs up, sitting straight on the stretcher, clutching the disc.

“Whoa, easy. You’re still injured…!”

“Moya, you have to tell me! It’s important!”

“... Brother Dust. He gives these to everyone he deems worthy. I don’t know where he found them, but they’ve been the key to his power since the beginning… I assumed you got your Stand the same way, just from a different source. Your family, I’m guessing…?”

She shakes her head. “I was born with my abilities, I’ve never even seen one of these discs in person before. But my nephew told me about them. There was a man, years ago, who used these to give people power and sent them to kill the Joestars. But he’s dead! He’s been dead for almost six years now… Where did he get these?” she says, looking up at her friend. Moya has no answer other than a scowl directed at Phantasma.

A paramedic appears and hops in the back of the ambulance. Before he can say anything, Moya steps out, taking the disc away from Shizuka as she goes. “Moya…?” she says, but gets no answer. The ambulance doors shut and the vehicle drives off, blaring its siren.

Moya, her body damaged all over, limps with purpose towards the squad cars. The officers are pushing Phantasma into the paddy-wagon. “Wait!” Moya calls, and the officers turn.

“You’re injured, Detective,” says one of the officers, raising a hand, “Let us take care--”

“Shut up! You… What is this? Where did you get it from? Where’s Dust keeping them!?” she demands, shoving the disc in Phantasma’s face. The masked woman says nothing. “Nothing to say? What’s the matter? You had so much to say before! Where are your grand fucking declarations now!?”

Receiving no answer, Moya presses harder. She steps closer and gets into her face, which remains impassive. Humbled, but still with a hint of dignity. “What was it all for? What the fuck did you do it for!?” Moya shouts, before the ache in her body catches up with her and she sways on her feet.

“Easy, Pezzente!” calls the officer. “You know the procedure! We’ll get her back to the station, then we can start asking questions! You’ve done your part for the day, Detective. Let us do ours.” Moya steadies herself, still waiting on an answer from her former mentor.

“...For you,” Phantasma says softly. Moya freezes in place and grits her teeth. Almost doubled over, she does not turn around as the luchadora is stuffed into the back of the paddy-wagon. The paramedics pull Moya back to the ambulance, as the wagon rumbles to life, and drives away.

                                                       ***

Her story was not a special one, she had grown up poor in Tijuana, worshiping luchadores on an old television set with bunny ear antennae, dreaming of standing among them. She was simply one of the few who achieved that dream.

Phantasma stares at the wall of the paddywagon. Her escorts are divided from her by a thick metal grate. She makes no attempt to speak to them, and they do not address her.

The masks drew her in, originally. Luchadores hid their faces, their true names. In doing so, they became more than simple athletes. To her, the mask was a talisman, crafted from transcendent material. Like the shamans of ancient times, in wearing the visages of the gods, became those gods, made flesh and blood. Gateways, through which she could abandon weakness. Abandon humanity.

But it was false. The masks she wore were polyester and spandex things. The matches were little more than games, entertainment for children. She was not a clown. She was extraordinary, forced to dally with the ordinary. She would not be held back by weaklings. And so she was not.

In her first title match, she hit her opponent just a bit too hard. A single palm shot to the chest. The challenger coughed, then sputtered. She kicked her legs and choked. And then she died. It mattered little. There was a place for her among the cartel, and before long, that place was at the very top. Mexico City became too small, so she extended her hand north, to San Diego, San José, and Los Angeles.

But Brother Dust, at last, shattered her illusion. She was no superhuman, no demigod. Just a foolish woman in a mask. There was power in the world beyond her comprehension. But he promised. By his hand, she would be granted that power. She would finally achieve that which she had pretended to have for so long.

Phantasma feels her face. Her flesh and bone, her human face. The one she had tried to escape from, but never had. It had been lurking underneath the entire time. She cannot remember what it looks like.

“Hey, Burnley, what's the matter?” Says the cop in the driver’s seat, breaking Phantasma from her trance. She can hear them from behind the partition. The cop glances away from the road to pat his partner on the shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Burnley groans, hunched over, clutching his guts, “I just got this cramp out of nowhere.”

“Nnh, now that you mention it, my head kinda hurts all of a sudden,” the driver rubs his temple, squinting at the road, “Ah, shit, it’s bad…! I don’t think I can drive like this. You think you can take over?”

“No way, man! Feels like my guts are tearing themselves up! God damn you, Rick, I told you we should’ve gone to Taco Bell, but you just had to try the local cuisine, didn’t you!? Oughh, Jesus, it hurts…”

Burnley leans forward, pressing his forehead on the dashboard and groans. A gurgling noise comes from his gut, so loud Phantasma can hear from. The cop starts belching. She grimaces, and turns to the wall again. She turns back sharply at the sound of Burnley belching, followed by a loud splattering.

The dash in front of Officer Burnley is soiled by a frightening quantity of blood and chunks of flesh. All of it vomited by the officer, who stares at it with dumbfounded horror. His partner, Rick, shouts at him.

“Burnley!? Burnley, what was that!? What happened?!!” The driver cries, his face similarly covered in blood, flowing from every orifice on his head. His eyes are all white and flecked with red. “I can’t see! Burnley, what’s happening?! I can’t fucking see anything!”

She listens hard, trying to discern what is happening, when a trickle of blood pours from her nostril. She dabs at it with her fingers and stares at the blood, only then noticing her hand shaking. “What? What is this?”

It is not just her hand. Everything loose in the paddy-wagon is shaking violently, as if caught in an earthquake. Burnley succumbs first, his whole body convulsing as though he was possessed. Then the driver succumbs, shaking so hard he can't even speak, let alone drive.

The wagon swerves off the road, the driver's foot stuck on the accelerator, Phantasma notices only now the convulsions in her body. Like her insides have acquired minds of their own, she feels her insides writhe, her blood vessels bursting.

As the paddy-wagon picks up speed, she slides to the back and kicks at the bolted door, again and again. For all her titanic strength, the door does not give. Dull pangs of pain run up her leg.

“No!! NO!!!” she shouts, kicking desperately, “I CANNOT DIE THIS WAY!!!”

The paddy-wagon mounts the curb and swerves, flying off balance and flipping in the air. The pedestrians have barely enough time to duck before it crash-lands upside down, halfway through the window of a fashion store.

Yet the wagon remains suffers no damage, inside or out. It remains intact, even as its occupants continue to convulse. Lying on her back, Phantasma's eyes roll into the back of her head as even her brain shakes itself into mush. This is the way she dies.

[ohnojustimagine]

Change Your Mind

Walter/Reader; Smut, 2440 words

As requested by a very inspiring anon.

-

It's not so easy to even get him inside your house after your dinner date. Walter's been the perfect gentleman all evening; holding out your chair as you sit down, keeping your glass of wine filled, making polite (if somewhat stilted) conversation and now walking you to your door.

He stands there, not saying anything, looking at you, and you hesitate, but then you see his gaze flicker ever so briefly down over your mouth and so you stand on your toes, tilting your face up towards him. He leans lower, closing his eyes, his mouth meeting yours, soft and careful and measured, and for a minute you don't push things, but then you open up, tongue teasing over his barely parted lips, and he suddenly pulls away. And your first reaction is disappointment, because you could have sworn he was into you, but then you see his face, and it's possibly the first time you've ever seen that resolutely stoic expression he wears like an unreadable mask slip in even the slightest. Because while he might look a little panicked, he mostly looks a lot turned on, like a whole lot, and oh yes, you think, this is a man who wants you.

"Maybe," he says, stumbling over the word slightly, but then he coughs, awkward, straightening up and looking you directly in the eye, his face once again neutral, but now you know what's lurking underneath that impassive exterior, and you're not buying it, not even a bit. "Maybe," he repeats, "we should say good night."

And fuck that, you scoff internally, but what you say is, "Or, maybe you could come in." He stares at you, silent. "For a coffee," you add.

He nods, slowly. "Well," he says, "for a coffee, yes."

You unlock the door of your house, ushering him inside. "Sit down," you tell him, gesturing at the couch, and he does, his hands resting in fists on his knees, almost oddly formal. And maybe you should keep up the pretense, say something about coffee, just for the sake of it, but instead you simply climb into his lap, straddling his impressively huge thighs and kissing him. And this time, he kisses you back, and he doesn't stop, not for what feels like a very long time.

"Are you sure?" he asks, when you take his hand and tug him to his feet, leading him into your bedroom, walking backwards, urging him along. He's serious, and it seems he's always serious, because the question is sincere, but even so, he still follows you, unresisting, waiting for your answer.

"I'm sure," you tell him, lifting his hand over your head, ducking under his arm and turning, as if this is a dance, and maybe, you think, that's exactly what it is, the push and pull of it; seduction, temptation, persuasion.

"I don't want to rush you," he says.

"No rush," you tell him, but that's a lie, because you're already impatient, your blood quick and hot in your veins, hungry for this, for him.

He glances around your bedroom, standing in the middle of the rug that covers the floor at the foot of your bed, and the way he just simply fills the space, the bulk of him, is so breathtakingly hot that you give up on any semblance of subtlety, no longer able to wait for him.

And so you step out of your shoes, unzip your dress, shimmying out of it and letting it fall to the floor. You pause when you're in just your underwear, watching the way he stares at you, his eyes dark under that overhanging brow, and you hear him breathe in as you unhook your bra, slip off your panties.

He looks you up and down, not saying anything, not making any move towards you, and you like it, you decide, having to encourage him, seemingly needing to tell him what to do, the intoxicating feeling of a man like this being even somewhat under your control. "Now you," you tell him with a smile, climbing onto your bed, kneeling up, facing him as you run your hands through your hair, shaking it back over your shoulders.

He nods, as if obedient, kicking off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, and his chest is broad; wide and so very solid, speaking of a strength far deeper and more powerfully dominating than the pointlessly gym-sculpted muscles of the guys you usually date.

He unbuckles his belt, unfastens his pants, bending ungracefully as he slides them off down his legs along with his underwear and then stands upright, and you breathe in sharply and the sight. Because there's just so much of him, and naked, it's even more overwhelming.

His cock stands out hard in front of him, and it's not that long, considering his height, but it's very, very thick. He stares at you as he strokes it, running his hand from the base to the tip, pulling his foreskin down over the head and then sliding it back and your mouth is watering and your cunt throbbing just to look at it, because you really, really need that inside you and you're not even sure you care where.

"Do the thing," you say, and he looks at you, puzzled. "Like you do for your entrance," you explain, "with the..." You clasp your hands behind your back, lifting your chin, and you could swear he smiles, so faint and subtle you barely see it, but it's there, and the knowledge of that sends a rush of heat through you.

He assumes the pose, indulging you, his face hardening into that defiant, arrogant look he wears in the ring as he glares down at you, haughty and imperiously assured.

And god, you think, fuck, because you've pictured it, more times than you could even count, him standing here, in that pose, naked and with a hard on, but it's so, so, so much better that you could have ever imagined. You shift your knees on the bed, widening your legs, your hand between your thighs, pressing down on your clit as you look at him.

His eyes are on your hand, observing, silent, and you're pretty sure you're making him nervous, but you're even more sure that he likes it.

"Tell me to suck your cock," you say.

"What?" he asks, as if not understanding, though his stance doesn't waver for even a second.

"Tell me," you repeat. "To suck it."

He's silent for a minute, staring at you, seemingly thoughtful, and you wait, holding your breath. "I want you to..." he starts and you interrupt, because that's not what you need from him.

"No," you say. "No, don't ask me, tell me."

He nods, then straightens up, raising himself to his full height, his accent maybe a little more pronounced than normal as he says, enunciating each word, consciously deliberate, "Suck my cock."

You lick your lips, moving so you're on your hands and knees, beckoning him closer with a smile, but he's quite still.

"No," he says, shaking his head, just once, authoritative. "Not like that. Off the bed. On your knees."

And oh yes, you think, because this is what you want, slipping down onto the floor, gazing up at him, giving him a dirty little smirk as you open your mouth.

You slide your lips down over his head, sucking lightly, tongue teasing, getting used to the feel of him, wide and full in your mouth, but then you go down further, seeing exactly how much of him you can take in. You inhale, trying to relax, but he's so thick that you quickly start to gag, throat stinging, eyes burning. You force yourself through it, holding on for as long as you can, and you're just about to pull off when he pushes you away from him, hard enough that you fall back onto your heels. You draw in a deep breath, and when you look up, you're taken aback to see he appears to be utterly unimpressed by your efforts.

He frowns at you, and says, "Don't do that."

"It's okay," you tell him. "I like it."

"No," he says. "I don't like it when you do that."

"I can handle it," you assure him. "I want to."

He looks at you, for what feels like a very long moment, and you're suddenly unsettled to realize that you have literally no idea what he's thinking. "I don't care," he finally says, "if you want to. Don't do it."

And he means it, you can tell, and to your surprise, you don't feel the need to argue with him. So this time, when you take him into your mouth, you focus only  on the head of his cock, and it's good like this anyway, your mouth working, nice and wet, one hand sliding up and down his shaft, circling around him.

"Better," he murmurs, and yeah, you think to yourself, because now he's into it. His hands rest on your shoulders, moving slowly up until they're either side of your face, his fingers light on your neck, his thumbs on your jaw, stroking as you suck on him.

You can hear him breathing, and when you look up, he's closed his eyes, his mouth slightly open, slack, and you can't tell if he's going to come, but you know you need more than just this, so you stop.

He opens his eyes, though he doesn't speak, watching you as you crawl back up onto the bed, lying back, your legs apart, thighs splayed wide enough to make sure he can see you, how wet you are, and you wait, wanting to see what he'll do.

And after a minute, he climbs up over you, the mattress dipping beneath you with his considerable weight, and then he's above you, dark-eyed and looming, and you hold your breath as he grasps your wrists, big hands gripping you like it's nothing, raising your arms, pinning them either side of your head.

"You like games," he states, and it's definitely not a question.

"Games can be fun," you reply with as much of a shrug as you can manage in this position.

"I don't like games." He shakes his head, serious. He's staring at you, and you swallow, because now you're the one who's nervous. Good nervous but you're not used to ceding this amount of control, letting a man dictate the terms of any encounter.

Yet you're beginning to suspect that Walter is not like any other man you've been with, that maybe, just maybe this is someone who might actually be worth letting down your guard for. And you're not so very certain how you feel about that, but for now, you breathe in. "There's..." you say, then stop. "There's condoms, in the nightstand."

He releases you, but you keep your arms exactly where he's placed them, waiting as he leans over, opening the drawer, taking out the box, his brow furrowed in concentration as he rolls the condom down over his cock.

And then he's on top of you, holding himself as he enters you, carefully, and you can feel yourself opening up to him, stretched around the sheer girth of his cock. You moan as he slides in, exhaling, and when he's fully inside you, he stops.

"Good?" he asks, and you can't answer, can't speak, so you nod, quickly. He starts slow, with shallow thrusts, and if this was anyone else, you'd quickly be demanding more, harder, but you don't say anything, letting him set the pace, trusting him to give you what you need, even if it's not what you think you might want.

And he seems to be in no hurry, at first, building up gradually, pausing every now and then to kiss you before starting up again, and just when you think you can't take it anymore, he looks down at you, and his expression changes. "Yes," he says, softly, nodding as if to himself, this time pulling all the way out before slamming back into you, so hard you gasp, have to hold on to him, and he doesn't stop, fucking you like he means it, grunting quietly with every forward thrust, relentless.

And mostly you can't come from just being fucked, needing some extra touch to get you over the edge, but you can feel it, that you're going to, and you don't know if it's how thick he is or just the way he's moving, but all at once it's as if you're taken over by it, something breaking open inside you, helpless to resist him.

You've barely even started to breathe again before he lets out a long moan, his head thrown back, eyes closed, before he slumps down slightly. You hear him panting for a moment, but then he pulls out of you, sitting up enough to toss the condom before he lies back down, beside you.

"You know," you say, "you're... not what I expected." He raises his eyebrows at you, curious, and you add, hurriedly, "I mean, in a good way."

"Ah," he says, as if he understands. And there's something so contained about him, the way he's so very within himself that you’re not certain if you should even touch him, but you reach out, running your fingertips gently across his stomach, tentative. He smiles, wider now, and pulls you over on top of him so you're lying on his chest, draped over him, and then kisses you again, like there's all the time in the world.

And perhaps there is, with his body solid and reassuring beneath you, grounding you. "Can you stay?" you whisper.

"Do you want me to?" he asks, hand running down your spine, coming to rest warm and huge in the small of your back, just above your ass.

"Yes," you answer, without hesitation. "Please." You look at him, hopeful. "Can you... can you fuck me again in the morning?"

"Well," he says, "we don't have to wait until the morning." He sniffs, breathing in, shifting you off him, arranging your body so you're nestled in the crook of his shoulder, snuggled in next to him, and you seem to fit in the space perfectly, feeling small and somehow very, very safe.

"We don't?"

"Wake me up in a few hours," he says, arms around you as he closes his eyes. "I'll take care of you."

"Yeah," you say, thoughtful, careful, warmth spreading through your chest, and the comfort of it is unfamiliar, but you're pretty sure you like it. "Yeah, I think you will."

[a-secondhand-sorrow]

lonely

read on ao3

There’s a type of lonely that’s surrounded by people-forced into tables at lunchrooms, smiles that don’t quite reach eyes, cardigans and t-shirts that took too long to pick out, loud and cruel jokes that try to appease everyone, false confidence hanging by a string. A lonely that feels like a gaze on the back of your head and a whisper against teeth. The lonely that looks so much like happiness you can’t see it until it glides, whisper-soft but deadly sharp, across your thigh and breaks skin.

There’s another type of lonely, one that everyone knows, that’s completely apart from everyone-smoke swirling in the midday air just outside of thick metal doors, eyes that have only been expected to glare and thus have not learned to do anything else, dark jackets with collars that cover necks, knowing exactly what is expected of you and yet not giving them the satisfaction of doing it. A lonely that feels like cruel jokes spoken too loudly just behind you and the sting that comes to your eyes as a joint burns just a little too close to your face. The lonely that everyone knows manifests itself in pills stolen from a medicine cabinet and an army of white scars across a wrist.

Enter Jared Kleinman and Connor Murphy.

Sometimes, you can see a person and you can feel the lonely clinging to them. It sounds pitying, but it’s true; there’s something in their face that lights up at the first sign of another person that can dim so quickly once it remembers where it is. There’s a way you can see it more, when you can feel the weight of being alone clinging to your skin, like you’re drawn to each other.

Jared, with all of his trying-to-be-cool act, always saw Connor lurking in the shadows. They never talked, really, because there was no reason to-not when Jared allied himself with people who taunted Connor, not when Connor couldn’t open his mouth around Jared without his worst insults flying out. Until Jared just decided it-the forced laughs, the cruel jokes, being stared through at every turn-was unbearable, and skipped lunch in favor of prowling around for a secluded place to sit and eat.

He’d decided to check behind the gym, and his eyes met Connor’s just outside the heavy metal doors with a jolt before he recognized the rest of the scene. Connor, bent over a laptop, packaged lunch next to him, uncharacteristicly gentle in his position. Neither of them said anything, but Jared let the door fall shut behind him and leaned against the outer wall until he slid down all the way. Connor looked back at his laptop, not permitting Jared to sit there, but he didn’t kick Jared out, which seemed like a good sign.

That one lunch turned to two, and the two turned to a whole week, and the week turned into a month, and then before he knew it they were exchanging dry, sarcastic remarks at the beginning of the lunch period and then steadily through it. Somehow, lunch outside with Connor made him feel lighter, like Connor actually cared that he was there, cared that he existed at all. He wasn’t entirely sure that was true until Connor shoved Jared’s lunch aside and kissed him one day until neither of them remembered how to breathe and didn’t particularly care to remember. Then he pulled away and almost spooked himself to the point where he ran off right then, but Jared, preventing some darker alternate outcome for this version of them, grabbed his wrist, where his jacket sleeve had pushed up slightly, and ignored the raised lines in favor of pulling Connor back down towards him. For a moment, they were both at peace and violently awake, the world falling away so that the only thing they felt was the touch of the other, mouths colliding desperately and hungrily, eating up all of the fear and anxiousness and pain and loneliness they felt. It was all gone for those moments, moments where Jared mapped the feel of Connor in his brain. He committed every detail of it to memory-the taste of Connor’s lips, something sweet from lunch and something bitter and weed-like, the gentle curve of Connor’s wrist in his hand, the tickle of his hair falling against Jared’s forehead. He committed it all to memory, and replayed it at almost every waking moment, as though afraid he’d realize he’d imagined it and it hadn’t happened it if he didn’t. And Connor-well, Connor let himself live in that moment with nothing else on his mind, let the pressure of Jared’s lips and tongue drive away the heaviness pressing on his chest with a lighter and warmer feeling.

And from that moment on they’re not really dating; sure, there’s more making out than the average friendship between teenage boys, maybe, but there’s no label of boyfriends. No couples posts on Instagram or meeting families. No pet names and hand holding and date nights. Just those stolen moments that feel like they’re snatched right out from between the movement of the world around them. There’s something electric in having this just between them, especially when it feels like the rest of the world has already decided exactly who they are. There’s something revolutionary in foresaking every label and every stare and every whisper and pressing into each other in the shadows of their school, limbs intertwined, as everyone else continues to play this game.

But sometimes they yearn to just…be happy. Be boyfriends. Worry about what color ties to wear to the next dance so that they can match. They’re so far from picking out cute birthday gifts it feels almost laughable. They’re still lonely, so lonely, even though there’s the other to turn to, but neither are great at talking (or listening, for that matter). Loneliness can combat loneliness, but it can also feed off of loneliness. It can bounce off of itself, and create some kind of vortex where magnets are tearing at each other in the haste to reach each other.

It’s hard. Jared wishes it was easy to be there, and to be happy, and to forget all of his worries as Connor’s mouth is on his. And Connor wishes it was easy to feel like enough with Jared’s arm around his shoulders and the other smoothing his hair back from his face. They wish those moments were all they had to worry about. They wish they could live in that feeling, that feeling of adequacy and worthiness. That feeling of affection. That feeling of being seen. But there’s always an end time, a bell wringing. All good things must come to an end, but that seems especially cruel when there’s only one good thing to be seen.

And so they’re left in limbo, suspended in a stolen moment in time, with lips pressed to a cheek and curls pushed back from a face and arms and hands and legs tangled in each other. It’s a waiting game to see when the clock will strike 12, when the magic of the moment fades, when the vortex collapses under its own weight.

[btgalaxy]

Twisted

➳ pairing: yoongi x reader

➳ genre: mafia!au, angst, eventual smut, maybe fluff

➳ word count: 3k

Masterlist / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Chapter 3:

        “And this here,” Taehyung points in the direction of the open space of which Yoongi surveys like a human embodiment of CCTV, “is the main training area, canteen, sparring ground. It’s the heart of the Enterprise.”

You nod, responsively, “why do they train so hard?” You gesticulate towards the men, throwing punch after kick after slap, all with the intention of slaughtering their opponent, “surely, there isn’t much actual fighting in this… business. I’ve never heard of some huge mafia war.”

“You think Yoongi would allow any of our goings on to be monitored by the government, let alone the press?” He scoffs, “the man isn’t the head of this place for nothing. The men have to be in top form 24/7, else the second the opposition find out we’re taking a day off or whatever, they’ll be here like a pack of wolves massacring the whole fucking place, it’d be a ghost town down here once they’re through.”

You swallow, “by the opposition- you don’t mean-“

“Damn straight I mean your ex. Man’s a killer. Doesn’t know a target from his parents’ faces.” There’s a glint of a smile on his lips.

You frown at what Taehyung is insinuating, employing a bitter tone, “don’t make up lies about him.”

“Duckie, there’s all sorts of rumours going around about him as it is. In case you haven’t realised, he’s sort of public enemy number 1 around here.”

You had noticed, actually. You’d noticed the glances people would give you as Taehyung was taking you around pointing out all the different departments to you, clearly aware of your relationship to Jimin. Some of the men would look you over once, then turn away in disgust, else others would smirk suggestively. To say the least, if you weren’t perceived as a sex object, you were someone nobody wanted to be involved with.

You and Taehyung walk through a new tunnel, close to where your room is situated, as he begins telling you about the origins of the Enterprise.

“Yoongi’s parents were the ones to find this place- an abandoned military HQ. It wasn’t as discrete; they built the house up top and battered it a bit so nobody would be tempted to come lurking around. Then, they bought the land above us and henceforth owned everything below it and the Enterprise was born. It’s a shame his folks aren’t here to see it now.”

As you saunter along, you push your mouth to one side, “did they die?”

Taehyung gulps back, glancing about momentarily with a nervous expression, “yeah, yeah they did.”

You don’t ask anymore questions regarding the former directors, after Taehyung’s apprehensive demeanour to which you pin down as it just being a touchy subject. You continue your exploration down the corridor, but as you turn down another darker, less accessible tunnel you notice a door, somewhat ‘pushed aside’ but from the worn metal on the handle you can tell it’s obviously opened frequently. And that smell in the air; like the smell of rubber, of alcohol, of… metal? You can’t really tell, but it’s prominent and lingers around your nose and mouth, threatening to waft up even further and poison your internals.

“What’s through there?” You interrogate, detouring away from Taehyung’s increased pace the opposite direction of the doorway to instead make your way over. A hand on your shoulder, however, prevents you from doing so.

“That’s out of bounds, duckie. Strict orders from above.”

“Then what’s that smell?”

“I can’t smell anything.”

You take a dramatic breath in, inhaling the pungent aroma deeply to make a point, “what do you mean you can’t smell anything,” you cough a little, “it smells like shit down here.”

“You probably just need to get used to it. It’s a long way from home, duckie.” He hits your cheek lightly, “come along.”

Disregarding your insistence that there’s something up with that tunnel, the door, the smell in the air, you trot along behind your tour guide, eagerly watching out for anymore dubious looking areas, though it’s a doomed endeavour; the place is an underground mafia institution after all- the whole thing is out of the ordinary.

“Here, I’ll introduce you to Kook and Joonie.” You recall one of the names, but aren’t entirely sure from where.

Yourself and Taehyung roam into what seems to be a security camera room, filled to the brim with PCs and technological equipment- all seeming far too advanced for any amateur to be dealing with. There’s a man sat in the chair at the very centre, with another leaning over him from behind, hand gripping the back of the leather seat. The two seem entirely consumed with some virtual game, yelling profanity at it and hitting each other when they mess up.

“Fucking hell Joon, have you got eyes? He was clearly in front of you,” he leans forward, smacking the man in front over the head.

“Get out you moron, I ran out of bullets.”

“Then reload you stupid fucker-“

The man in the chair groans before interrupting, “I can’t just reload-“

“Just press that button it’s not-“

“Fuck off already I’m the computer tech not you.”

“Doesn’t make you any less shit at this.”

“You little shit you-“

Taehyung interrupts the two with a cough, to which the man at the back of the chair turns around, revealing a bandage on his free hand and your eyes widen. Fuck, so that’s how you recognise the name. He looks you up and down, raising his eyebrows, then falls into a blank expression when you make eye contact. Taehyung simply smiles at the interaction, suddenly patting a hand over your shoulder.

“Y/N, meet Jungkook,” he announces, “I assure you he is just as sweet as he tastes.”

“Funny,” Jungkook snarls, merely glancing at you one more time before turning back to look at the game, “don’t expect me to get along with her, Tae. She did take- Joon fuck! Let me do it you bellend.” His hand is instantly reaching out to yank the controller from ‘Joon’s’ grip, shoving him from the chair so he’s forced to get up. You can’t help but allow your eyes to drift towards the bandage covering the bite mark, wondering how big a chunk you took out of it.

The man sighs, ambling over to you with a slight limp and a wooden stick in his hand, before Taehyung introduces him, “and this is Namjoon; the finest hacker and tracker you’ll ever meet.”

“Sounds like a porno,” Namjoon comments.

“I’m sure you’d like that,” Tae winks back, “Joonie is also head of drug shipments, and was part of the team that found out about you.”

“So you’re the reason I’m stuck here?” You turn to face the man adopting a deathly appearance to shoot glares his way.

He holds a hand up in surrender, “I can’t ignore my orders. Yoongi allowed me to come in with an injury- an unlikely occurrence in a place like this, so to start rejecting his demands would put me back out on the streets.”

You suddenly feel a little guilty, delineating that he must’ve been in a difficult situation with a clear permanent limp, “how did you hurt it?” You glance at his leg, to which he mimics, tapping it with his stick to create an unexpected clanging sound.

“Not hurt- gone. Amputated after they found a cancerous tumour in the muscle- I could either let it spread to the rest of my body and have to undergo years of chemo only to still die within a few years, or have it removed altogether. And now I’m part android, so naturally I got good with computers, which Yoongi thought was a good enough reason to let me in.”

You mull over the fact that not all the people here may be sick, twisted killers that you perceive them to be; some may not have had a choice, or it could’ve been a way out from a life they didn’t want to carry on living. Yes there are probably some near-psychopaths prowling about but you still become aware of the subtle moments of morality, hidden in the silence and behind the scenes of the vicious attacks.

“Y/N is gonna start training with Jin. We’re just headed over there to go introduce him.” Taehyung reveals, and Namjoon lets out a single laugh, clearly amused.

“Good luck with that. I’m surprised he’s agreed to train a girl.”

“What’s wrong with training a girl?” You interject, with a snappy tone.

“Nothing, nothing,” he insists, “it’s just Jin has a thing about training girls. He doesn’t like it.”

“Well he’s gonna have to like it. She’s starting tomorrow,” Taehyung reassures, wrapping an arm around you. You suddenly feel a lot more nervous to meet this man, fully aware he will be your main point of contact whilst living here as your trainer and for him to dislike that time with you just… well it wouldn’t be ideal.

You say your goodbyes to Namjoon and Jungkook, leaving them to yell incessantly at the computer screen after a minor debate about how those games actually contribute to their work- they just told you guns were guns, virtual or not. And that comment manages to bring up your defences again, with the realisation that even if in a former way of life they may have been innocents, now they’re killers. By their own will or not, if they aren’t actually killing people then they’re helping. It dawns on you this could be your new lifestyle also, but you push those thoughts back so not to succumb to the sinister outlook of your life now.

Traipsing down yet another tunnel, you hear the grunts and huffs of men throwing kicks and punches. The smacks against sandbags echoes against the stone walls and swims through your eardrums, threatening to explode them with every movement you take closer. The smell hits you next; of sweat and gym equipment. Then, as you walk through the main training area, you come face to face with your new mentor.

He grapples against another man, of smaller stature but fast pace, and dodges his hits stealthily before throwing his own, far better timed as they hit him dead on till he’s winded and bent over, wheezing. His hair sticks to his forehead, as he uses the back of his hand to wipe away a layer of perspiration and moves to his water bottle at the side, now making criticisms of the man’s skills.

“You rely on your speed, but you need to improve your strength. And your tactics are poor and predictable- don’t go for the first attack you think of, you’re quick enough to think first and to then make the unexpected move,” he gulps down a mouthful of water, swirling it around his mouth before swallowing it down, “go spar with the boys. You need to practise thinking before you hit.”

As the man jogs off, looking rather disheartened after that assessment, Jin whips a towel around his neck, finally turning to you and Taehyung stood watching. The dark expression on his face as he spots you indicates he has been pre-informed of your arrival, and you take a gulp when he begins to stalk over and Tae nudges you forwards with a smile playing on his lips.

“Jin,” Taehyung bows slightly in respect, which Jin reciprocates, although still not taking his eyes off of you.

“This is Y/N?” He scrutinises your figure intensely, almost making you squirm and recoil from his gaze.

“The one and only.” Tae shoves you closer again, and you snap your head round to glare at him before slowly turning back to face Jin, still looking you over again.

“She looks weak.”

“Well she’s never even set foot in a gym.”

“How do you know that?” You cry turning to Taehyung, suddenly feeling rather targeted.

“Read your file.”

You pout to yourself childishly, “I have been in a gym before.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Jin finally addresses you face to face, “your arms and legs have no muscle, they’re just fat and bone.”

You wrap your arms over your chest, feeling conscious now he’s observing you so closely, “well I never needed to be strong or fast, or be able to fight.”

“It’s always good to be able to defend yourself.”

“I never needed to.”

“Clearly you did considering you got abducted and brought here?” His retort silences you instantly as you wet your lips, perhaps a little awkwardly with the sudden tense atmosphere. He sighs, looking at Taehyung and then returning to a punching bag hung up to the left, leaving you both stood alone.

“Jin?” Taehyung glances at you, then at him, now busy launching hits at the surface, “what time should Y/N be here tomorrow?”

“She shouldn’t be here tomorrow. She’s an unnecessary distraction from real work with the men.” A fire starts in the pit of your stomach. What a fucking misogynist.

“Yoongi said-“

“I don’t care what he said. This is my department and it won’t be ridiculed by some feeble female incapable of opening a jam jar, let alone fighting a trained assassin.”

You’re about to step forwards and begin rocketing insults at him at full force after slandering your whole gender, but another presence gets there before you. And you’re surprised to find Yoongi looming behind you, having watched the entire scene unfold before him and now stepping forwards, smirking as he comes into your eyesight.

“Jin, how are you this evening?” He asks, casually. Jin falters for a second, pausing from his punches to glance over, before nodding his head curtly and returning his attention to the equipment in front of him.

Yoongi nods, raising his eyebrows slightly, “so what seems to be the problem with training her?”

Jin carries on with his work out, not even glancing over at his boss, “she’s weak. She’s too far behind. She won’t catch up.”

“Well that’s why I’ve entrusted you with the job, over the other trainers. She needs a lot of work.”

The fact that they’re talking about you in third person right in front of your face further ignites the fire burning through your veins, but you refrain from letting your tongue loose on their blatantly rude manners, considering one is a mafia boss and the other a highly skilled combatant.

“She will hold back the other men.” He ceases all movement suddenly, panting as he looks over at you and Yoongi, “it’s not right to hinder the progress of my division for some girl nobody wants here.”

Surprisingly, Yoongi isn’t happy with Jin’s comment whatsoever, deduced from his squinted eyes and furrowed brows capturing the man in a fatal glare, “need I not remind you of what you owe me, Seokjin. She’s stronger than she looks. If you give her a chance, you may find she’s got a better work ethic than some of these so-called ‘men’ you’ve been training up for months.”

Your stomach leaps as Yoongi becomes to threatening, all at your cause. It seems fictitious that such a man could even attempt to defend your honour, but similarly you don’t look too far into it, considering he’s doing nothing that won’t benefit him also. And obviously Jin has some kind of debt to repay, that he ‘owes’ his boss.

Jin pokes his tongue in his cheek before exhaling in frustration, “be here by 4am in workout gear.”

A small hint of smile slips through your lips as he gives in, feeling something similar to victory as he concedes to Yoongi’s demands.

“I’ll work you to the fucking bone so you better get ready.” And with that he returns to his punching bag, arms tensed as he vents his irritation through the form of aggression.

You turn around to see Taehyung has obviously wandered off, and you’re now left with Yoongi, flicking his head to the side to follow him away from Jin’s area. You follow behind him, away from the main training grounds and towards a staircase leading up to his office. Once inside, he turns to you, smirking smugly.

“I believe you might have perhaps a bit of trouble with your new trainer.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “you don’t say.”

He grins back, looking somewhat satisfied, moving over to his desk, “if he does cause you trouble you need to tell someone. I need you trained, not collapsing everywhere.”

“Trying to be some kind of hero now are you?” You suppress a smile, etching its way onto your expression.

“Only for my new favourite.” He takes out a file from his desk, “I’ve got something for you.”

He passes you the envelope of paper, to which you take apprehensively, unsure about its contents. As you open it up, you’re shocked to find a collection of photos of you as a child, your family and your friends. All the photos from your childhood through to the day you broke up with Jimin and came here- all sorts of memories bundled into one folder and gazing up at you nostalgically.

“What is this?” You murmur.

Yoongi sits at his desk, “I figured you may not see them for a while. So photos are the next best thing. God knows it’s how everyone else copes.”

Although the whole concept is pretty morbid and you now know he knows where the people you love are, the gesture seems unusually kind. You do, however, take notice that none of the photos include Jimin- even to the extent of him being visibly cropped out of some. But you don’t mention it.

“Thank you.” It’s the first sincere thanking you’ve done since you’ve been held captive here, after not being able to voice your thanks to the old lady that left you books.

“It’s nothing.” Yoongi dismisses, and you simply roll your eyes in response.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You start uncomfortably making your way to the exit.

He nods, brusquely, “I’ll look forward to it.” He glances up incredibly briefly, with a gratified smirk on his lips before you leave with an increased pace, a knot forming in your throat, restraining you from breathing.

And as you’re walking down the corridor, you reprimand yourself for being so friendly with a murderer. Flirting, even. You come to the decision it’s better to focus your mind on other things- the books the woman leaves and your new start to training as of tomorrow. You take a breath in. Focus.

Masterlist / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[hopewritcs]

prying eyes.

pairing: steve harrington x reader 

word count: 4.5

request: “50 from the prompt list with Steve maybe?” ( “people are staring” )

notes: ok so the original idea i had in my head wound up not working but i really love the idea i came up w after so??? i hope u enjoy it too.  this fic includes a lot of flashback sub sections, including one where a kid pees their pants ( fair warning ).  au-ish.  

stranger things tag list: @thekidsofneibolt,@madhatterweasley,@inspiredbynewt,@rainy-bookish-days (if you wanna be added to any tag list, let me know!!)

They say that during a near death experience your whole life flashes before your eyes.  Apparently, during your most embarrassing moments, the world decided to cease movement at all.  And everything was just focused on that one moment in time, and even if it was only ten seconds -- it felt like it lasted forever.  And those moments have prying eyes who can’t seem to stop looking at everything as it happens. 

Alternatively, Y/N would say there were three times ( definitely more, but three most notable ones ) Steve Harrington came to her rescue, and three times she came to his.  And one time they forgot about the world and embarrassment altogether 

The Day Steve and Y/N Met.   

September 7th, 1971.  First day of kindergarten.  

Y/N had just moved to the new town, not even a week before the first day of school.  She had been dropped off from the bus at Hawkins Elementary School promptly on time, and she looked around the crowd of kids as they walked into school.  She wrung her hands together as she nervously walked into the building with everyone else.  Her mother had taken her to the school two days before to show her how to get to her classroom.  But, in the beginning of school day chaos, Y/N got shuffled down in the wrong hallway and didn’t know where to go.  

Not knowing where she was in the building, and not having a friend, Y/N began to panic.  She started crying in the hallway as everyone else walked into their classrooms.  Some older kids stared at her as they past, laughing at the young girl who was lost.  

The bell rang, and Y/N jumped.  The hallway was empty, aside from her.  Could she make it back to the entrance of the school?  Maybe if she walked back that way she could get to Miss Kosner’s classroom, where she was supposed to be.  Spinning around the hallway she stood in, Y/N looked for anything that could help her mark where she was.  Noticing the yellow arrow on the wall, she remembered her mom telling her that they were posted in the halls to guide kids back to the front of the building.  

Y/N took off full speed, following the arrows and finally she was back at the front of the school.  But, since she was running so fast, she couldn’t stop herself and bumped into another kid who had been walking into the building.  

“Ow.”  both children said as they hit the floor, looking at each other.  

Hiccuping, Y/N apologized.  “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!  I didn’t see you!  I don’t know where I’m s’pposed to go.”  She was still crying a bit, breathing fast as she looked over at the kid she’d hit.  

“Are you okay?  Don’t be sad!”  The boy said, crawling over to her and looking at her worried.  “Do you have a boo-boo?  My mommy usually kisses mine better.  She was late this morning.”  He explained, glancing down at his hands on the tiled floor.  “Don’t be sad, I’m Steve.”  He reached out his hand like he’d seen his father do many times before--it was how his dad greeted many people.  A handshake.  

Y/N looked at him carefully, tilting her head to the side as she studied him.  “I’m Y/N.”  she said after a moment, looking down at his hand and then putting hers in his.  

“There you are!”  an adult voice called from the office doorway, looking relieved as she saw the two kids on the floor.  Racing over, her heels clicked on the floor as she made her way to the children.  “Are you two okay?  What happened?”  she asked kindly, helping both kids off the floor.  

“I got lost.”

“My mom just left.”  

She sighed, shaking her head as she looked at both kids.  Deciding they were both unharmed, she smiled.  “I’m Miss Rachel, I work in the main office.  Are you Y/N Y/L/N?”  she pointed toward the girl who nodded her head, then turned to the boy.  “And Steve Harrington, right?”  when the boy nodded she stood up straight, holding out her hands for each kid to take.  “Well, Miss. Kosner’s been looking for you both.  Let’s get you to the classroom, okay?”  

At the door of the classroom, Miss Rachel left the two kids once she saw them settle down at their long tables.  

“Well, let’s welcome our new friends.  Class, meet Steve Harrington and Y/N Y/L/N.”  The teacher said.  “Today we’re going to play a game to get to know all our new friends, doesn’t that sound like fun?”  

Y/N turned to look at Steve who was smiling.  When he turned to look at her, she smiled back at him.  “Don’t worry, Y/N.  We can play together.”  

The Day Y/N Had an Accident.  

October 31st, 1973.

Halloween was never Y/N’s favorite holiday, she was too scared for everything that seemed to be lurking in the corners.  And, on this particular Halloween, Y/N had been at recess listening to one of the older students telling everyone else a story about a ghost.  The school’s upstairs girls bathroom was haunted, and every Halloween the ghost would pick one student to take and keep until the next year.  

So, Y/N sat at her desk in the classroom watching the clock closely.  She needed to pee, but she couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom--not when the ghost might pick her.  

She could definitely hold it.  

It was afternoon snack time and Y/N went to grab the pack her mom put in her napsack.  

“Y/N peed!” a student called out.  Y/N stopped and turned around, looking down at herself.  And it looked as though she had, her pant leg was stained with liquid.  As the students laughed, Y/N began to cry, hiding her face in her hands.  The teacher came forward, telling all the students to stop laughing and go back to their desks, but no one left.  Y/N could feel all the eyes on her and the sound of laughter echoed in her ears.  

“Look, Steve peed his pants!” 

Y/N looked up from behind the teacher’s arm and saw Steve, sitting at his desk with a bit of a puddle on the floor beneath him.  

The teacher left Y/N’s side and looked out into the hallway, grabbing an aid to help.  The aid took Y/N and Steve down to the nurse’s office where the two waited on one of the sick beds for their parents to drop off clothes.  

Y/N sat still and looked down at her feet kicking them a little bit back and forth.  

“Are you okay?”  Steve asked quietly.  Y/N turned her head to look at him.  “Everyone was staring at you and I know you don’t like that.  So I grabbed Elizabeth’s water bottle.”

“You fake peed your pants?”  Y/N gasped, her eyes widening as she looked at him.  

“If everyone was looking at me...they’d stop looking at you.”  

“Why did you do that?”  

“Because I don’t like when people laugh at you.  You’re my best friend.”  

The Day Steve Met Basketball.

December 8th, 1977.  

Usually during gym, Steve and Y/N stayed on the sidelines and weren’t picked.  Y/N because she wasn’t the sportiest.  Steve probably because everyone knew he wouldn’t let Y/N be on the sidelines alone.  So, on the day Y/N had been in the nurse during the beginning of the class, Steve had been one of the first team picks.  

Halfway through the class, Y/N came back from the nurse and was feeling a lot better.  She went to open the door to the gym and looked in, seeing Steve on the basketball floor dribbling the ball back and forth between him and some of the other kids in their sixth grade class.  Y/N stood there for a minute, just watching, before heading into the room.  

Steve had just tossed the ball to one of his teammates when he saw her walk into the gym.  Y/N was talking to the gym teacher, handing the man a note from the nurse and then she took a seat down on the sidelines.  Steve was about to call her name to say hi when he got hit in the face.  

Y/N had been looking down at her book when she heard a loud bang.  She heard people calling Steve’s name and she jumped up from the seat.  “Oh my god.”  she muttered to herself as she raced over, pushing through the people and looking down at her best friend.  “Steve?”

“Y/N.”  Steve groaned, blinking his eyes as he grabbed her hand and sat up.  

“Are you okay?”  she asked, looking at his already bruising eye.  

“Yeah.  How bad is it?” 

“Not so bad.  Can you stand up?”  Y/N stood up, holding out her hands to pull him up.  When he seemed to almost fall back over, she put her hands on his chest to steady him.  “Let’s get you to the nurse.”  She led him out the gymnasium and down the hallway.  

“Seriously, Y/N, how bad is it?”  Steve repeated once they were alone in the hallway.  

“It’s more of a bruise to your ego.  I don’t think your nose is broken or anything, so you don’t need to worry about that.”  Y/N said, looking up at him.  “Don’t worry, everyone will still pick you to play next time.”  

“I did kind of like it.  And thanks for getting me out of there.”  

“And let someone else take my dumb best friend to the nurse?  Not a chance.”  

The Time Steve and Y/N Danced.  

December 20th, 1979.

School was out until the new year, except for the Snow Ball.  The school held it on the last day before winter break every year.  And this was their last year in middle school, so Steve had convinced Y/N to go.  She’d gotten all dressed up, a navy blue dress with some silver colored stars and bright silver shoes too.  

Y/N’s mother dropped her off at the front of the middle school and she walked in, looking around to see if she could spot Steve.  After all, she was here for him right?  But there he was, talking to his basketball buddies.  Y/N waved and Steve waved back, but he didn’t make any move to head over in her direction.  

Y/N glanced down at her feet and moved over to the side, sitting down next to someone she didn’t know well.  Nancy wasn’t in her class, she was a year younger, but they started talking, and then before she knew it Y/N was up and dancing with a new group of friends.  

Nancy Wheeler made Y/N feel included in the group she’d been sitting at.  And they all moved around the dance floor to the latest music they knew all the words to and giggling when they looked like idiots.  

When a slow song came on, everyone was pairing up and Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of the dance floor.  Nancy had been claimed by Jonathan Byers, one of her friends.  And Y/N began walking off the dance floor when someone grabbed her hand.  

“Can I have this dance?”  

Y/N turned her head to look at Steve, biting her lip.  She hadn’t seen him all night long, and now here he was.  Saving her from yet another embarrassing moment of walking off the dance floor.  

“Come on, Y/N.  I haven’t seen you all night.”  Steve pled with her, giving his best friend the biggest and best puppy dog eyes he had.  

“Not my fault you were too busy hanging out with your teammates to spend time with me.”  Y/N said, teasing him as she spoke and turned around fully so they could dance properly.  Which mostly involved their hands together and one hand resting on her waist and the other on his shoulder as they awkwardly swayed to the song.  When Steve looked like he was about to protest, Y/N giggled.  “I’m just kidding, Steve.  Besides, I made friends.”  she explained with a shrug and a grin.  

“But I’m still the best, right?”

‘The very best, Steve.”  Y/N promised, which made him grin right back at her.  

After a couple of minutes, Steve cleared his throat and looked back at Y/N, “You look nice, Y/N.”   

“So do you.  I like the jacket.”  Y/N said, playing with the collar of his basketball team’s jacket Steve wore.  

“It’s pretty cool, right?”  

“I think the guy wearing it is what makes it cool, but yeah.  It’s a cool jacket too.”  

“You always say the best things, Y/N.” 

“What are best friends for, Steve?”  

When Billy Met His ( Verbal ) Match in Y/N.  

November 1st, 1984.  

Y/N had been in the gymnasium watching basketball practice because one of her friends was on the school newspaper staff and they were talking about the team and the chances of winning the upcoming games.  Plus, Y/N and Steve were still close friends, so she’d often hang around until he was done with practice and then they would do homework together.  At least when he didn’t have plans with Nancy after school.  

Y/N’s nose was in a book and she paid little attention to what was going on the court, until her friend smacked her leg.  

“What was that for?” Y/N exclaimed, turning her attention to her friend.  

“Billy just checked Steve into the ground.”  Her friend explained, pointing toward the court where the new kid Billy Hargrove stood over Steve.  He looked to be saying something, but Y/N wasn’t close enough to hear it.  

“What happened?”  she asked her friend, not taking her eyes off of the pair until the coach blew his whistle and told the guys to hit the showers and practice was over.  

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t go down there Y/N.”  

But she was already out of her seat, hopping off the bleachers and walking toward Steve to grab him before he went into the locker room.  Steve’s face softened when he saw her come up and he smiled at her.  “Hey, I didn’t see you here.”  

“Well, Lizzie had to cover you guys for the paper so I figured I’d tag along.  Do you want to study after you get cleaned up?”  What she really wanted to know was what happened between him and Billy, but she wasn’t going to ask that right then.  

Steve shook his head, “I’m not up for the company.  I’ll call you later if I change my mind.”  He didn’t want to explain to his best friend what happened when Nancy pulled him out of practice shortly before that.  But he could tell from the way she looked at him she figured something was up.  Before she could get any words out, Y/N was cut off by Billy.  

“King Steve has two girls?  Damn, I guess he may be a King after all.”  Billy chuckled as he shouldered past Steve on his way to the locker room, winking at Y/N and spinning around to get one last look.  

“Can it, Hargrove.”  Steve growled at him, moving protectively in front of Y/N.  “She’s my best friend, don’t talk about her like that.”  

“Best friend or best friend?  Cause if she’s not spoken for, I’ll ask her out.”  Billy lost all interest in heading toward the bathroom right then, eyes landing on Y/N as he smirked.  

Steve went to step forward, but Y/N put her hand on his shoulder and tugged him back.  “Don’t.”  she whispered to her friend before looking at the menacing teen before her.  Her attention fully on him, she looked at him.  “You must be new, because you don’t talk to people like that.”  

“Who says, sweetheart?  Seems like some of the girls really love how I talk to ‘em.” 

“Let me rephrase.  You don’t talk to me like that.  Ever again, I don’t care if you’re the last guy on the planet.  You have no right to talk to me, or to insinuate anything that’s going on between me and Steve.  Steve has a girlfriend, who’s one of my best friends.  And, believe me when I say this, he’s a much better guy than you.  So don’t talk to him like that again.  And don’t talk to me...ever.”  When Y/N finished her speech, she looked at Billy ( who hadn’t moved ) and raised her eyebrows at him.  “Did you hear me?” 

“Watch your mouth, bitch.”  Billy spat out at her.  But Y/N just smiled sweetly at him, shaking her head at his words.  Behind her, Y/N could tell Steve was pissed, but she wouldn’t let him talk.  After a beat of silence, Billy spoke again, “What are you smiling for?” 

“Because you’re so not worth my time, new guy.”  Y/N finished, waving goodbye and then turning around to smile at Steve and head out the back door of the gym.  

Graduation Night.  

June 21st, 1985.  

Y/N was tapping her foot in her seat as she glanced around at the rest of her graduating class.  They did it.  High school was over.  And soon, once the mayor of Hawkins was done with his speech, they would officially be Hawkins High Class of 1985.  

The marching band played, everyone jumped out of their seats and Y/N wormed her way through the crowded stage to her friends to say goodbye.  Hugging each one and promising to stay in touch with letters and phone calls and possible road trip visits, they parted ways.  Each on to whatever life brought them next.  

Smiles were on everyone’s faces, and the crowd started moving toward the reception hall for the big dinner.  Y/N spotted her family and started to walk toward them when she saw Steve hanging back, still sitting in his seat on the stage.  He was looking off into the distance.  She held a finger up to her family, apologizing, as she turned around and headed back to where he sat.  

Tapping him with her foot, Y/N smiled down at Steve when he looked up at her.  “Why so glum?”  She took the seat next to him and put her hand on his shoulder.  When he didn’t answer right away, Y/N poked his cheek.  “You can tell me anything.  What are best friends for anyway?”  

“My parents didn’t show.”  he said, looking at her with a sad smile.  “I graduated and they didn’t come.”  

Her heart sunk at his words and she put her arm around him, pulling him to her in a hug.  “I’m sorry, Steve.  But, hey, you still graduated.  Isn’t that something to celebrate?”  

He shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with my life, Y/N.”  

She looked over at her family, still waiting by the entrance and turned back to Steve whispering.  “Me either.”  she giggled.  

He blinked, looking at her.  “You don’t?”  

“Nah.  Not for sure, yet.  But, that’s not important.”  She stood up from the seat and held out her hands for Steve to grab.  “What’s important right now, is that you and I, Y/N Y/L/N and Steve Harrington, we graduated high school.  And I will not see you mope tonight.”  Steve put his hands in hers and let Y/N tug him to his feet.  Grinning, Y/N looked at him and continued to speak.  “So, let’s go.  You’ll sit with us.  Mom thinks of you like one of the family anyway.”  

The Night The Kids Got Steve to Confess His Feelings for Y/N.  

October 31st, 1985.  

A lot of things happen in October in Hawkins.  Most of them, are things people don’t know about.  Things that some people tend to keep secret.  When Steve got a call at the landline at work, he knew something was wrong.  

“Steve, it’s for you.  A Dustin?”  his co-worker said, handing the chord phone to him before walking off.  

“Steve?”  Dustin called out, sounding frantic.  

“Dustin, why are you calling me at work?”  Steve leaned against the wall, sighing as he spoke into the phone.  “What’s wrong?”  

“Something happened.  Just get to El’s as soon as possible.”  

And then Dustin hung up the phone leaving Steve to think the worst thing possible.  He ripped off his work hat and apron before clocking out and telling his co-worker something happened and he needed to go home right then.  

He didn’t waste any time getting to the Hopper residence, knocking on the door and walking inside to find...

It was empty.  

Steve shook his head, “What sick fucking prank is this?”  he called out into the empty living room.  There were no lights on, other than the front porch and Steve looked around for Dustin.  “Dustin?  Jane?  Other shitheads?”  

“Steve?”  a voice from behind him called out.  

When he turned around he stopped short.  He’d seen Y/N a lot since graduation.  Both had stuck around Hawkins.  Steve was working at the new mall and she was staying at home to cut costs for university.  And they’d been spending a lot of time together, especially once Steve got his own place.  Y/N had been the one to help him decorate things and move in, along with the kids.  

Maybe it was around that time that Steve realized he’d developed feelings for his best friend.  

And, around that time, he realized he’d be stupid to act on them because if you didn’t like him back he would lose you.  And he needed his best friend more than he needed her to know he was in love with her.  

“Y/N?  What are you doing here?”  

“Jane called, asked me to come over.  Said Chief Hopper was going to be working late and she didn’t want to be alone.”  she explained, taking the steps up the porch and looking at Steve.  She looked at him, and right then Steve knew she could tell something was up.  Blinking, she put her hand on his shoulder.  “What’s wrong?”  

Letting out a breath of air, Steve shook his head.  “Nothing.  I got a call from Dustin, he said something happened and they needed me.”  

After a moment of silence, Y/N and Steve looked around.  Neither of them could see the teenagers.  

They were hidden just up the top of the stair case where they could all see and hear everything that was happening.  Dustin had decided this plan was going to need to commence ASAP because Steve wouldn’t stop talking about Y/N.  And they all figured ( hoped ) she felt the same way about him.  

But when Eleven had called Dustin on the walkie two nights ago, telling him Y/N had said something about having feelings for her best friend, Dustin put the plan into action.  And they all wanted it to work out.  

Moving away from Steve Y/N turned and walked into the house.  “I didn’t see any lights on.  Which is odd, since Jane said she was home.  Jane?”

Jane made a move to answer her, but Dustin had clamped a hand over her mouth and Max put a finger to her lips to tell her to be quiet.  The plan was going to work.  

“She called me like five minutes ago.”  Y/N said, moving to flip the light switch by the door on.  

“Damn it Dustin.”  Steve muttered under his breath before taking a step toward Y/N.  “It’s a set up.” 

Y/N turned to look at Steve, she hadn’t turned the lights on yet, and squinted to see him better in the darker entryway.  “A set up?” 

Steve cleared his throat, which suddenly felt dry.  Y/N looked a little concerned, but he waved a hand at her to tell her he was fine.  “A set up.  I might have let Dustin in on a secret of mine.”  

“And he set up a plan to get you and me to the Hopper’s residence because of it?  Steve, that makes no sense.”  

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.” 

“Holy shit!”  

The exclamation came from the top of the stairs, Dustin knew that Steve liked her, a lot, but love?  He hadn’t expected that.  Steve turned his attention toward the staircase, moving Y/N’s hand and flicking on the lights.  He caught hurried movement away from the stairs, but didn’t say anything.  

Apparently Y/N didn’t hear anything because she didn’t flinch from the sound above.  In fact, everything seemed to stop.  Like when she was a kid and she’d get embarrassed over something.  

“What?” 

“I’m in love with you.  I don’t know when it happened.  I just...I don’t know.  It’s stupid, Y/N.  You’re my best friend and I know you deserve way better than me.  But I think I’ve liked you a little bit since you toppled me down that first day of kindergarten.  Which is crazy, cause I don’t even think I knew what it meant to like someone back then, but you looked so scared and I just wanted to help you and ever since then being your friend has been the best thing that’s ever happened in my life.  Through all the crazy parental bullshit and the otherworldly stuff, you have been there.  Always.  And I...it would really help me if you said something so I don’t keep talking.”  Steve finished, looking at Y/N with a worried look.  Had he said too much?  Did he scare her off?  Lose her friendship forever?  When she didn’t talk, Steve put his hands on her arms and took a step closer.  “Please say something, Y/N.”  

“I love you too, Steve.”

His ears turned red.  He could feel his whole face heating up.  “Since when?” 

“Since that day you got hit in the face with the basketball and I realized you were sitting on the sidelines so I didn’t have to sit there alone.”  Y/N said softly, almost afraid to speak up.  Was it possible that Steve had actually felt this way for her too and she just didn’t know it?  “And then you got popular and we were still friends but I didn’t want to make you lose out on anything because of me.  And then you and Nancy and she’s one of my best friends too.  And you guys were so happy I just kind of pushed it back and forgot it.  But I’ve been feeling all these old feelings recently and I was just nervous and worried about telling you because...”

Steve cut her off with a chuckle, “Because you didn’t want to lose me as a friend, either?”  

She nodded her head.  

“Well kiss her, Steve!”  

“Yeah, kiss!”  

“Kiss!  Kiss!” 

Steve rolled his eyes at the commotion upstairs, and he was already leaning in to kiss her when Y/N kissed him first.  Neither of them caring about the hooting and hollering coming from upstairs, which may have normally embarrassed them.  But they just didn’t pay any attention.  

After they broke apart, Y/N felt the world coming back to her and realized that the teens were just upstairs.  She muttered, “People are staring.”  

Steve laughed, looking at Y/N with a smile.  “Then let’s get out of here.”  he turned to look at the staircase and up at the teens.  “If you’ll excuse us, I’m going to take Y/N out on a date unless there’s actually something you need us for.”  

Getting no response, Steve looped his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head as he walked out the door.  Holding his hand, Y/N looked at him out of the corner of her eye.  

“What did you mean otherworldly stuff?”  

[alitheamateur]

Perfect Patient

Anon asked: After the fight he ends up in the hospital. Well and he’s grumpy as always but doesn't mind the company of this one particular nurse.

Hope you like it, love! And hugs for being my first request, as well!

Warnings: Language. Suggestive language/behavior. Slightly rough flirting. Patient/nurse relationship.

Word Count: 2,230

Characters: Tommy Conlon/Reader

Perfect Patient

It was the first 12-hour shift of your weekly 3 day rotation, and you weren’t even fully recovered from last weeks’ events. Nursing school had prepared you sufficiently for most situations where medical procedures are concerned, but there was no way to properly equip you for the sarcastic joys of an impossibly problematic patient. Your particular hall of the hospital had been fully stocked with arrogant, nagging individuals lately, and you most definitely had your fill. You’d think night-shift would make things easier, assuming most of the cliental is sleeping soundly in their rail-lined beds. But since you had been placed on evening duties after finally graduating with a nursing degree a short year ago, you could whole-heartedly assure differently.

You drug your feet out of the elevator, blonde bun bobbing with your steps and arrived at the nurses’ station on the 5th floor to relieve Amy, the veteran day-shift employee. “Aims, you sure you don’t just wanna pull a double tonight? I think I can see it in your eyes your itching to stay another 12.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. I can’t handle another second with 503, much less another entire shift. You better take a long sip of whatever is in that cup, and for your sake I hope it’s alcoholic,” Amy huffed as she hurriedly gathered her smock coat, and purse from beneath the desk. 

“Goodie. Thanks for the warning, I guess. Got anything else for me?”

Amy informed you on the medication changes, food restrictions, and any other crucial modifications to your full floor, and you scanned over the patient list while clipping on your plastic, worn name tag. Next on the checklist would be making your first rounds to check in on each and every name, and make sure they were notified of the shift change you had made with Amy. But, referring back to her heeded warning about whatever lurked in room 503, you saved that occasion for your last stop.

After refilling any jugs with fresh water and assisting the recovering open-heart patient with the television remote, it was time to meet the doom lying in your last room on the hall. Thomas Conlon, 31, was recovering from surgery where Dr. Patton had repaired a shattered orbital bone, and was scheduled for release in two days. Which to your lucky realization meant he would be here the entire work week for you to suffer with. You wondered how bad it could really be while massaging a drop of sanitizer into your cold hands, then cracking your neck in preparation before entering.

The man laid comfortably in the raised bed, feet crossed at the ankles outside of the sheet, and one mountainous, muscled arm tucked beneath his head. The mirror of the open-doored bathroom was painted with steam from the shower you concluded he had taken after assessing the damp, disheveled hairdo he was sporting. The mystery man shifted to raise up a bit when you rounded the corner and became visible to him, then ran a hand over the auburn whiskers of his cheeks.

“Hey there, Mr. Conlon. How are you feeling tonight?” I professionally inquired to the patient, although somewhat sincerely taken aback by the handsome mystery of him. His one unscathed eye followed my every step to his bedside as he decreased the volume of whatever sporting event he’d been engrossed in on tv.

He cleared his throat, and you accidentally locked eyes with him just as his tongue licked over a bubblegum shaded, pink bottom lip. A thin, n-neck cotton tee that seemed almost too small squeezed his torso sinfully, and black, peeping ink drawings starkly contrasted his swelled chest. The mound of ointment stained gauze placed over his left eye didn’t hinder his glorious looks in the slightest, and the minor facial bruising around his nose only made him more dangerously attractive.

“Tommy… My uh, my names’ Tommy. I can’t  handle all that Mr. Conlon shit. And life is just a damn rose garden if ya’ take away this bloodshot eye, food that tastes worse than what I’ve seen dogs eat, and this short ass bed that I don’t fit in.

Ah, and now exhibit A in Amy’s list of warnings. He wore a constant scowl, and the wrinkle between his brows looked exhausted from the constant strain of anger it displayed.

“Well now, that’s not any way to be, Thomas. Just two more days, and we’ll be out of your hair. But until then, I’m gonna need to take a look at that eye.” You stretched on the tip of your toes to garb a pair of latex gloves to shield your hands before observing the mans’ wound. “And if you’re real good for me, I may just have a lollipop for ya’ somewhere in my pocket.”

Gentle sarcasm and playful banter had become the best mechanism for dealing with such unpleasant individuals at work, and Tommy seemed that one who may even be able to play the game right back, so you rolled the dice and winked at your little joke.

“What’s ya’ name? I ain’t seen you since I been here. I feel like ya’ owe me that before you go diggin’ at a poor man’s wounds, Miss…..” He left the remark open ended in strategic efforts to catch your name, and bit his lip to stifle a wicked smile.

“It’s Y/N. Now, tilt your head back for me, and I promise to be easy with you.”

Tommy scooched lower in the bed, seeing the way your petite form struggled to get a decent look at his incisions, and his shirt raised to reveal his lower, very firm abdomen. The scorching temperature of his exhales whispered gently along your neck, and the flyaway hairs that fell from your updo tickled you. The concoction of sensations sent thick chills sailing over your entire body.

“If that lollipop you got down in ya’ pocket tastes as good as you smell, I’ll take two, please.” He spoke darkly, never looking anywhere in the room but your exposed neck, and chest as you dangled over him in dutiful examination. You could feel the slight weight from your ‘RN’ badge gently tugging open the neckline of your top, but you naughtily brushed off the urge pull away.

“Amy told me you’ve been giving some trouble the last couple days, and I can definitely see she wasn’t lying.”

“Oh, this ain’t trouble, sweetheart. I can promise ya’ that. I can sure give some trouble if that’s what you’re askin’ though.” Tommy’s hand slid stealthily out of sight, unbeknownst to you, and suddenly his thick, bruised fingers teased a touch up the back of your thigh, gripping at the curve of your backside. The prodding at his stitches didn’t seem to phase him on any level of pain, and your gym-toned figured seemed to be his chosen distraction.

“I sure as hell as ain’t had a pretty, smart thing like you takin’ care of me since I been here. And damn it, change is good.”

Reasonably and rightfully, you should report to mans’ advances to the high ups at the hospital. But, the overworked and underpaid, not forgetting under-laid woman in you decided to maybe dabble in a bit of cat and mouse with the hot little number under your care for the next two shifts. He was brazenly flirting, and it had been an embarrassingly long running clock since anything worth a second look had been a patient on your floor. Harmless teasing and sneaky touches wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

After discarding the sweaty, slightly blood-ridden rubber gloves into the nearest trash bin, you plugged the cool ends of a stethoscope into your ears and wriggled a hand up under Tommy’s shirt. Slightly allowing the nailed tips of your fingers to feather graze along his ribs when journeying to place the chest-piece of the device atop the hot Fahrenheit skin covering his heart. The chill-like shudder that seized up Tommy’s body under your touch brought about a peeping growth around the groin of his sweats.

“Oh my, Tommy. Your poor little heart seems to be beating out of your chest. Are you feeling alright?” You innocently lilted, although there was not a single ounce of genuine innocence lurking anywhere between the two of you.

He placed his hand over where yours lay listening to the bass thumps of his heart, trapping you there under his titillating, watchful stare. “I can feel anotha’ place pulsin’ somewhere, too. I think you should uh, maybe check it out. I feel a lil’ bit….hot, nurse Y/N.”

Within 10 minutes, you compiled that the man was crass, horny, and maybe even a little downright vile. But, it made you all the more thirsty for a dose of Tommy’s explicit manner.

He reached up to use your clipped badge as a handle to pull you closer into his lips, and you heard him hiss, “you gonna stop me?”

Before puckering to kiss you, Tommy simply went straight into a bite on your lax bottom lip. You instinctively went to close your eyes into what was coming next, but the sound of an empty saline bag sent a screaming beep from the room next door. Without as much as a single word, you went running devotedly to fulfill your workplace duties and Tommy obviously had not protested.

 The next two days, room 503 always mysteriously needed the assistance of the nurse on duty when night shift rolled around. Once there was the request for a new pillow, another call had him cleverly asking if there was any way he could have a cherry lollipop brought to his room, and he even went as far as attempting to request a sponge bath. Many more visits than duly necessary were made to his room for tedious chats about what landed him under hospital care to begin with, and he hintingly pulled on the drawstrings of your scrub pants while you checked and charted his blood pressure. On the eve of his discharge, you decided against better judgment to spend your longest break of the night resting in the poorly padded recliner beside his bed.

“Why don’t you pull that curtain there, and sneak up ‘ere next to me for a minute? Ya’ favorite patient is bustin’ loose tomorrow, y’know,” he said persuasively, pulling back the sheet to offer up a tiny slot in the bed next to him.

“I think you and I both know ‘favorite patient’ is a long shot,” you chuckled through a sip from your very late-night milkshake from the cafeteria Tommy had requested you bring up. He had been mostly sleeping through the daytime hours so he could sweetly remain up all night for your shift.

“Gimme a break here, doc. Shit…”

The aching twitch he caused at the apex of your thighs made want to mount him immediately and rock the bolts loose from the creaky, remote operated bed, and for a second your weaker judgment almost got the better of you. Especially, considering the circumstances of Tommy shirtless and so earnestly almost begging. But you hadn’t worked you brain into a mashed potato through nursing school for nothing, and your residency at the hospital certainly couldn’t be offered at stake for some freakishly handsome stranger.

“Tell you what, Conlon. If you’re as interested as you seem, look me up when you’re home, and no longer my patient.”

As you kissed him on the cheek, then scribbled his next med dosage on the dry-eraser board in the corner, you glanced back towards Tommy once again with a regretful smile, and even deeper regretful thoughts of the way those anomalously fleshly lips would really feel on your body. Standing in his door way, Tommy perceived this as your goodbye and pushed a switch to kill the lights. He wouldn’t call for you the last 3 hours of your shift, and you’d peep in on him secretly once you were certain he’d fallen victim to sleep, and Percocet.

 The morning air wasn’t unbearably frigid once you made it to the covered parking complex after clocking out only 45 minutes late. You simply needed a sauna hot shower, and your empty California king to kill the worry of work for your upcoming off days. You smashed the ‘unlock’ button of your key fob when you were only short inches away, before a hand encased your shoulder from somewhere behind.

Pushed now against the driver door of your vehicle and fumbling for the mace that hung from your keychain to assault the heavy body that had you trapped, scraped knuckles planted on top of your sedan revealed all you needed to know.

Tommy hastily spun you around in his arms, grabbing the collar of your light, autumn weather windbreaker as well, and finally encased you in a kiss. Although you were probably covered in bodily fluids and crusty food from your shift, and he was sporting a very obvious eye-patch, the moment in its entirety felt gangrenous with uncut passion. Your kiss mates nosed smashed yours flatly, and teeth certainly knocked into one another, but it was inevitable considering the bedroom vibes built up from the last 36 hours.

“I ain’t ya’ patient anymore, and you owe me lollipop I believe, Y/N. So, can ya’ please just give a man a ride home, ‘n a sponge bad for his troubles?”  

[rudemaidenswrite]

You can Hide Here

part 13

author: @pusantheamazonian

part 1: https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/161717451846/you-can-hide-here

part 2 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/161717668251/you-can-hide-here

part 3 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/161717998306/you-can-hide-here

part 4 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/161718268416/you-can-hide-here

part 5 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/167972312781/you-can-hide-here

part 6 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168462055071/you-can-hide-here

part 7 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168535611451/you-can-hide-here

part 8 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168538267861/you-can-hide-here

part 9 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168539193221/you-can-hide-here

part 10 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168539788521/you-can-hide-here

part 11 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168568276186/you-can-hide-here

part 12 https://rudemaidenswrite.tumblr.com/post/168679184446/you-can-hide-here

tag list: @1800-fight-me

                             “Solana come with me.” Loki says wiggling a finger for you to follow him.

“Where we going?” Curiosity gets the best of you and you pester Loki for information.

“Somewhere.”

The elevator opens to the overly large gym with no one in it.

“Okay, we are in the gym what gives?”

“You need to learn hand to hand combat.” Loki declares while walking to an empty mat.

“Like actually technique or just winging it?”

“Technique, now punch as hard as you can at my hand.” Loki holds up his left hand for you to aim at.

“Okay.” You raise your fists and pretend that you are Muhammad Ali before punching Loki’s hand.

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

“Not bad, have you ever actually fought someone?” Loki cracks a tiny smile after your punch was dead center.

“No.”

“Well I’m going to educate you on how to defend yourself. You already have an advantage.”

“Like what?” You reply sarcastically.

“Well me but you did gymnastics, you can incorporate what you know when fighting.”

“Okay I guess I can do that and add in my thugness to it.”

“Thugness?” Loki repeats it in repulsion.

“Yeah thugness, Lucine says I get very aggressive like a thug when we play games, so use my thugness.” You over act in pretending to loosen up for a fight.

“Sure... but why don't we start practicing.” Loki sarcastically agrees.

~  

“Solana!” Tony sings your name, turning around you see him walking closer with a smile on his face.

“Tony.” You reply questionably.

“Come on Solana you will miss game night.” Tony loops his arm with yours and drags you to the group living room. “Solana since you are new you can pick the game tonight." Tony says as he drags you closer to the table. No one is there yet so you have your suspicions.

“Is this a real thing Tony or something you just made up?”

“No it’s real.” You hear Clint say as he walks up behind you holding different board games. Clint sets down Monopoly, Uno, Clue, Life, Scrabble, Sorry and Operation.

“Ah so I get to pick the choice of torture tonight?” You rub your hands together menacing.

“Pick a good one, last time we had to play Operation all night long.” Steve says.

You turn around to see everyone coming from the elevator.

How did you get here already? Loki asks through thought.

I was wandering the halls when Tony dragged me here.

“Well out of these games Monopoly is the most annoying and time consuming so I pick Monopoly!”

“Well I’m banker then.” Steve sighs as he open the box.

“Tony cheats if he is banker.” Bruce whispers.

“Ah, so we playing by actual rules with the house and hotels and stuff. Or are we just playing until someone runs out of money?” You ask sitting down at the table.

“Actual rules.” Natasha smiles as she picks out her token, which she grabs the thimble.

“Actual rules? You guys must be determined.”

“Some people try to cheat.” Bruce states looking at Tony.

“How can you cheat at monopoly?”

“You don’t want to know.” Bruce sighs as everyone picks a token. Thor grabs the wheelbarrow, Tony has the battleship, Clint chose the racecar, Steve grabbed the old styled shoe, Bruce has the Scottie dog and Loki grabs the top hat leaving you with the iron.

*3 hours later* 

“Fine take it! I don’t want your stupid money!” You shout throwing the last of your money at Tony. Because he just cleaned you out and your only hope is to make it to go if not you will have to sell your last property. Only you, Tony and Natasha are left and you are losing horribly. Clint gave up within the first hour while everyone else lost their money slowly to the two money grubbers; better known as Natasha and Tony.

“Don’t be like that, all’s fair in love and war.” Tony chuckles.

“Lies all lies. I hope Natasha beats you.” You scowl at Tony.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I can.” You get your wish, after twenty minutes and having to sell your last property to Natasha. Natasha beats Tony at monopoly. You and Natasha high five each other as Tony pouts.

After that everyone begins to slowly disperse back to their rooms. You tug on Loki’s arm to leave before he starts any arguments with Thor. Loki and Thor’s relationship reminds you of yours with your sister. Loki and Thor are true siblings. No one can be all nice and cooperative with each other and then wanting to kill them the next minute; unless you are siblings.

“You got aggressive tonight.” Loki says opening the door to his apartment.

“I told you I get aggressive when playing games.”

“It's that confidence you need to keep when fighting.”

“Eh...easy to say but harder to do.”

“You will be fine.” Loki kisses your forehead. “Now why don’t you go to sleep or do you want to watch a movie?”

“I know a good movie, I saw it on Tony’s Netflix. You have to promise no commentary.” You run to the couch grabbing the remote.

“What movie this time?” Loki rolls his eyes preparing for another of your stupid movies.

“On the Town.” Smiling you start singing the songs from it in your head.

                               This morning you decided to visit Loki and everyone in the gym. You’re bored while everyone is supposed to be practicing or training, whatever it is. Sneaking in, you sit in the corner and watch.

"Having fun?" Tony says as he carelessly walks over to you.

"Eh...do you people really do this every day?" You shrug.

“Well they do.” Tony sits down beside you.

“So you pretend to do stuff when Director Fury comes but otherwise you just dawdle in here.”

“Ssh don’t let them know.” Tony winks. “So do you wanna try any of the equipment?”

“Nah I’m good.”

“Come on I heard that you were in gymnastics. Why don’t you show us some moves?” Tony pesters as he actually starts to poke you in the arm.

“No.”

“Come on Solana.”

“No Tony.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I don’t want to Tony.”

“Come on it would be good practice in case of emergencies.” Tony tries to give a frowny face.

“Urgh!!” You groan, grabbing Tony by his shirt and drag him across the gym. Everyone notices this strange event and watches silently. You place Tony on one side of a wide pull up bar.

“What are you doing?” Tony protests.

“Don’t move.”

You go to the other side of the pull up bar and distance yourself about 6 feet away from it. Then with a running start you jump up grabbing the bar and using momentum propel yourself through several giant swings. Quickly doing some moves that you remember, you dismount doing a forward flip landing right in front of Tony just mere inches away. Tony looks a cross between thrilled and horrified.

“Don’t ask me again.” You say with a slight aggravation to your voice. You quickly leave and head back to Loki’s room. Making it back to the room you leave the lights off and face plant on the couch.

“Solana?”

”What Loki?”

“There you are, what are you doing in the dark?”

"I have a headache."

"So you're sitting in the dark?" Loki crouches down beside you.

"Yes, it helps it go away."

“Then why is the light in the bathroom on?”

“Nightlight?”

“Move.” Loki gestures and you reluctantly sit up. Loki sits down right where you head was and grabs a pillow before gently nudging your head back to lay on the pillow which is placed on his lap. “Dr. Banner said you might have headaches for some time.”

”Boo.”

“Is there a particular reason for your headache?”

“I had on ever since I woke up this morning, Tony only made it worse.” You frown as Loki begins to hum.

~

You wake up on the bed, you didn't even realize you feel asleep. Loki must have carried you to the bed. Walking back out to the living room you see Loki reading again.

"Is reading the only thing you do in your free time?" You sit at the opposite end of the couch.

"I like to read besides much knowledge can be gain from reading."

"Knowledge is power, power corrupts study hard be evil." You wiggle your eyebrows.

“You know you have a strange disposition on good and evil. Are you sure you are not an evil villain?” Loki closes his book to look at you.

“Lucine says I’m secretly an evil villain. But I chalk it up to knowing what true evils lurk in the world.”

“Are you a villain then?”

“Eh...” You are quiet for a moment trying to figure out how to properly ask Loki this without him getting too offended. Because this question has been knowing at you for days now. “But Loki if I may. Why are you doing this?... Why did you come back for me?”

“Are you that dense? Because of you, I’ve tried to become a better person. Truth be told I meant to use you but something about the way you laughed that first time. How you said it was the most fun you’ve had because of that stupid game. It made me want to make sure that you always laughed, no more sadness.” Loki looks confused that you would even ask such a stupid question.

“That doesn’t explain why me.”

“No matter who you are, where you are or where you might be. I will always you love you for all eternity.”

You stare at Loki in a daze as you forget how to breathe again because of this revelation.

“Solana! You’re not breathing.”

Loki is instantly holding your face in his hands in worry. You quickly inhale.

Well...that’s some love confession.

I didn’t think you would put me on the spot like that.

~Pardon for the intrusion but miss Solana, Director Fury would like to have a word with you in the meeting room.~

“Thank you Jarvis. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” You glance at Loki before looking at the ceiling to answer Jarvis.

~I will let him know. ~

“What does he want?” Loki frowns.

“Like I know?”

Standing up you rub Loki’s cheek trying to covey your feelings without having to say it.

I can wait and will accept any form of expression of your love.

You give Loki a smile before leaving.

~

You meet with Director Fury in the meeting room.

“You wanted to see me?” Sticking your head in to see him already sitting at the table.

“Yes Solana, I just wanted to talk to you about something.” Fury waves you closer.

“Ok about what?” You sit down across from him.

“I’ve been watching your relationship with Loki. I must say you have quiet and effect on him.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you may know Loki is ...difficult and doesn’t follow commands.”

“An ass.”

“Yes that’s one way of putting it. But I have noticed that ever since Loki has met you he has become more corporative and approachable. I would like to keep it that way.”

“What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying is that I would like to keep it that way.”

What?

”So what I’m stuck here?”

“No, no I would like you to continue your relationship or whatever you call it with Loki.”

“So you’re forcing me to be in Loki’s life?”

“I would prefer that you would but it is up to you. If you choose to we can pay you.”

“No, if I’m going to be friends its cause I want to. Besides shouldn’t it be Loki you should be afraid that doesn’t want to be friends?” You are offended now, since Fury doesn’t trust your friendship with Loki.

I don’t need your money.

“Now why would you say that?”

“You haven’t met all of his personality then.”

“What do you mean that?”

“There are many parts to a personality. Now director Fury is there anything else?”

“Do we have a deal?”

“No I will friends by my own free will, you can keep the money.”

“That’s all I wanted to talk about.” Fury gestures to the door.

You leave somewhat disgruntled at the fact that Fury offered to pay you to be Loki’s friend.

[medea10]

Medea Saw Pokemon: I Choose You

As you all should know by now, I am indeed a Pokemon fan. And have seen nearly any and all Pokemon episodes, specials, and movies up to this date. And that includes making sure my ass is in the movie theaters to see a Pokemon movie on the big screen. I did it for the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and whatever number the Victini movie was. So seeing this movie was a definite must. And just my luck it came out on a Sunday (my usual day off from both school and work).

Being the ever so anxious fan, I arrived in San Francisco an hour early. Guess I got lucky with public transit. No worries, the theater is allowing people to come in early. And when I entered, they were playing Pokemon Generations.

Um...why? Okay, I understand that you want us to have the feeling of Kanto. But the movie we’re about to watch involves Ash and Pikachu. Not (DOTDOTDOT) Red. But luckily, it was only the first 3 episodes of Generations.

And I can’t say no to seeing Lorelei. Her and her happy tats were on the big screen. And that’s a big plus in my book.

Aside from that was an AMV (I’m calling it that) to the tune of the first OP song featuring footage of the past 19 movies. And of course advertising the first 52 episodes being available on Blu-ray.

So the movie begins a little bit like the first episode. Except we now know the trainers battling. They’re the ones from the first movie.

You member? Well their names are Neesha and Corey.

The two on the right. Not the other dude. They were on the screen fighting as Ash stayed up late watching in anticipation for the next day as he’s going to become a pokemon trainer.

Well a lot like the first episode, dude oversleeps and breaks his alarm clock, causing him to be totally late to Professor Oak’s and run around town in his pajamas. When he got there, yep, all the pokemon (Bulbasaur, Charmander, and Squirtle) are gone.

We saw the back of Gary’s head. And that’s all we see of him. Hope you enjoyed that Gary fans.

But as a shock, we actually saw an image of the other two Pallet trainers. We still don’t have names, but they look like Marina (from the episode Bye Bye Psyduck) and Tierno (from Pokemon XY). I’m not saying they’re them, I’m just saying they look like them.

So Ash gets Pikachu.

Usual shit, shock, walk, try to catch Pidgey, fail, hit Spearow, flock of Spearow come attacking, Ash and Pikachu are beat-up, get in the pokeball, no, Ash makes declaration to Spearow, Pikachu attacks, sky clears, enter Ho-oh.

And then Ash receives the Rainbow Wing from Ho-oh.

Which I am pretty sure is the reason why Ash never ages. I’m pretty sure Ho-oh’s Rainbow Wings are the fountain of youth in this universe.

AND THEN WE GET THE OPENING! It’s a lot like the video that the Pokemon Company has been showing all week with the footage of Ash and Pikachu. Except they played quite a bit of the song and even see footage of past movies like Lugia and Slowking from the second movie, Lickylicky and Torterra from the 10th movie, and a few backgrounds from the Victini movie.

Now for the rest of the movie that is going to go down a much different route. Be prepared. I’m not holding back. So spoiler warning. This is your one and only warning. GTFO if you don’t want to see...

So Ash goes about by doing some similar things including capturing a Caterpie and battling gym leaders. Well the only gym leader he battled was Erika of Celadon City.

Yeah, pretty much dressed like this usual attire. And I am pretty certain that she is NOT voiced by original voice, Leah Applebaum.

And to add it off, this is Ash’s 3rd gym battle. Who were the other gym leaders he beat?

Oh well, Ash ends up at a Pokemon Center where he actually calls his mother. And boy is she mad. She’s been calling all over Kanto to make sure her baby is okay. Then Delia mentions Ash being like his father.

...

...It took so much of my energy to stop myself from yelling in the theater, “WHO IS HIS FATHER?” Dammit Delia!

Team Rocket’s there...and they do nothing.

But he soon hangs up on his momma when he learns that a legendary pokemon is prancing around. It’s Entei from the Johto region. So Ash starts running around trying to see if he can battle it. But not before running into our new female, Verity.

She comes from Twinleaf in Sinnoh. And has a Piplup. And thank the fuck Christ it isn’t as annoying as Dawn’s. So I’m not praying it gets hit by a Draco Meteor. She wants to battle Entei too and they both fight over it until they end up in a world of trouble with a rogue Onix. Luckily Ash saves the day by being his usual reckless self.

Then they meet the other kid lurking around in the Pokemon Center earlier.

Sorrel from Veilstone in Sinnoh. THIS DUDE COMES FROM THE SAME TOWN AS PAUL AND CONWAY. SOMEONE GIVE ME MORE TO GO ON! Anyways, he leaves because a storm is coming.

While Ash and Verity are running to shelter, they see a Charman...oh fuck, I know where this is going!

Yeah, Charmander...the stray pokemon. Well we’re about to meet the douche that ditched it on a rock. Well...who knows? He could be a little better than Dami...

And he kicked Charmander.

Yeah, I fucking hate you now.

Nope. I have no likeness, compassion, or anything for Cross. He could cure cancer, kick Donald Trump in the testicles, and bring peace in the middle east, and I will still hate his fucking guts.

So Ash and Verity save the little Charmander by hiding in a cave. Surprise, it’s the same one Sorrel is hiding in. He ends up saving Charmander with some medicine, and Ash nurses him like a baby throughout the night.

This night in the cave is cold and so the trainers want to put the pokemon back in the pokeballs. Well...Pikachu hates pokeballs and still refuses to go in. And with that Verity and Sorrel’s pokemon don’t want to go either.

We learn a little more about these two mystery characters. Sorrel wants to become a Pokemon Professor and meet rare legendaries on his journey. And Verity has a mother that’s a very powerful trainer.

But wait, there’s more! There’s a scene where everyone else is sleeping and Verity is going through her photos and stops at one of her...mother?

Wait, wait, wait! I know this chick has Cynthia’s long hair and it looks so much like her...but I can’t remember, does she have an Empoleon in the games.

Fuck it, her mother’s Cynthia, I guess.

And we learn that Sorrel once had a cute little Luxray that watched over him when he was a tyke. And then one day he got hurt in a snowstorm. And Luxray shielded him until help came.

And the Luxray froze to death.

Dammit movie, you’re trying to break me. But I’m not going down that easy! BUT FUCK, YOU HAD TO SHOW LUXRAY SMILING EVEN IN DEATH! HOW FUCKED UP ARE YOU PEOPLE?!

Retelling of Ho-oh tale, Burned Tower, the three legendary doggies, moving on...

Ash, Verity, and Sorrel survive the night. And Ash ends up catching Charmander.

Entei sighting.

Caterpie evolves.

Verity sees Suicune.

Charmander evolves.

Marshadow stalks.

Team Rocket does nothing.

Ash wins several battles.

Here comes Kicky McDoucheCross. He battles Ash and Charmeleon. Cross uses his JOHN CENNNNNNNNAAAA (Incineroar). And much like the Ash we all know and love, he uses a not fully-evolved pokemon against a much powerful evolved pokemon. And loses.

And much like Ash, he ends up brooding after losing. You know how those go. Ash has many of these moments like when he lost to Gary and Paul and Wulfric and Richie and Brawly and TOO MANY TO FUCKING COUNT!

So he ends up having a pretty bad mood swing and taking his anger out on Verity and Sorrel. And even Pikachu when even he disagrees. And then Ash said something I NEVER thought he would ever say.

“I should have chosen Squirtle or Bulbasaur.”

OW. DAMMIT MOVIE. OW. Nope...no tears. No tears Medea, fight it!

So Ash is alone and falls to sleep. All the while his rainbow wing starts to taint (as it does if the person holding it has a tainted heart). Ash wakes up in...a normal world?

WHAT?!

There’s no pokemon. He’s going to school. Like a regular kid...

NO WAY!

OH MY GOD, AGATHA IS TEACHING AND PROFESSOR OAK IS OUTSIDE AND IN CHARGE.

Pokemon...have you been tracking me and my story Romance 101. Granted, it’s been around for over 10 years...But that’s so OH MY GOD!

Thankfully this world dies when Ash remembers Pikachu’s name. And not a moment too soon. Jesus “Tap Dancing” Christ. No more Pokemon in School shit! Ash wakes up, he’s sorry for snapping, the feather is back to being all rainbowy. We’re off to a mountain to see Ho-oh.

But then...

Pink Butterfree. FUCK!

Stop trying to make me cry, movie.

Yeah, Ash’s Butterfree saves the Pink Butterfree from a Fearow. They do courtship dance. Butterfree must go with his ho on the go and leave Ash. They fly away. Ash cries.

Phew...no tears. Okay movie, I’m done with you trying to kill me with feels. You’re worse than a Key Animation anime.

We see Raikou.

Okay, back to journey to the special mountain. They meet an old coot named Banji who’s been a Ho-oh enthusiast for the last 20 years. Ash is ready to be the one to take the feather to the top and summon Ho-oh.

And then Crossfucker comes AND RUINS EVERYTHING! Oh he totally did. Ash and Cross battle and thankfully the results were different from last time as Charmeleon evolved into Charizard and beat Cross and his JOHN CENNNNNNAAAAAA!

But FuckaCross doesn’t take losing well and said he saw Ho-oh once too. But he wasn’t blessed with a feather. So he takes Ash’s feather. And it becomes tainted. And Marshadow appears and just makes shit worse as he gets the pokemon from the area to fight everyone.

This was intense. Like 1st movie intense. There was strangling, biting, and explosions of all kinds!

And this just totally wrecks Ash and Pikachu. Overkill. So once again, Ash is telling Pikachu to get in the fucking pokeball and stand there as these powerful pokemon unleash their attacks on him. Pikachu refuses and ACTUALLY SPEAKS?!

IT SPOKE.

IT FUCKING SPOKE.

IT WANTS TO BE WITH ASH. THAT’S WHY IT REFUSES TO GO IN THE BALL.

And just like the first movie Ash brushes with death. Except he dissipates leaving Pikachu sobbing into Ash’s hat.

ALMOST...You almost got me movie!

Ash returns from purgatory.

And here comes Ho-oh to calm everyone down. And Ash finally gets to battle with Ho-oh.

Except we don’t see it. We just know they go back to the Pokemon Center and he mentions battling Ho-oh.

Well it’s time to go on. Verity’s gonna go home to Mama Cynthia. Sorrel is going to search for the legendary birds Articuno, Moltres, and Zapdos. And Ash continues his journey with Pikachu.

Then the ending credits. We see Brock. We see Misty.

OKAY POKEMON, LISTEN UP!

I’m fed the fuck up with this shit. Every single solitary time I have hopes of seeing Tracey Sketchit, you guys fuck it up for me. Like the line cuts off when Oak brings him to the phone or he’s away with the Waterflower Slut-Brigade, or fuck if I know. Because he sure as fuck wasn’t there in those two Kanto episodes of Sun and Moon. If you fuckers don’t show my anime husband in the next five seconds Imma quit this whole...

OH MY GOD!

AM I SEEING THINGS?

A MOMENT LIKE THIS

SOME PEOPLE WAIT A LIFETIME

FOR A MOMENT LIKE THIS

FOR TRACEY TO FUCKING SHOW UP

OHHHHHHH I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING TO ME

GLALIE-LUJAH! PRAISE ARCEUS! HOT DIGGITY DAFFODILS! TRACEY SKETCHIT! MY LIFE IS FUCKING COMPLETE! HIM. THERE. ON THE BIG SCREEN.

THEY REMEMBERED YOU. I’M SO HAPPY I COULD CRY.

I’M CRYING OF HAPPINESS! I’M CRYING OF HAPPY TEARS!

NO, FUCK YOU ROBBERT LOGGIA GIF!

TRACEY WAS ON THE BIG SCREEN! THIS NEVER HAPPENS. NOT SINCE MOVIE 4. HE HASN’T BEEN SEEN SINCE 2013. NOW, HERE HE IS!

*inhales*

Okay, so aside from that we also see May, Max, Dawn, Iris, Dento-fruit, Clemont, Bonnie, and Blushy McIdiot...whoops I mean Serena. We see some pokeballs (and a Voltorb) in the credits. Sorrel and Verity for a sec. Team Rocket...again with the nothing.

The End.

Phew...this movie. GO SEE IT. Yes, Gen “Wunners” I’m talking to you. Look, I know you’re sad that this retelling of Ash’s beginning doesn’t have Misty and Brock. But I’m begging you to just look past that imperfection and actually WATCH the movie. I’m almost upset at the fact that the movie theater I went to was nearly empty during the screening. I saw more people at the Victini showing than this. And this movie is so much better than the Victini.

You know what? For years, I’ve always imagined how Pokemon would EVER end. And if it did, I would always imagine it with Ho-oh, Pikachu actually speaking, and Ash either dying or brink of death. And this movie shocked me and gave me all three. I’m at a complete loss of words. I was so hooked on this movie.

The one miss for this movie goes to Team Rocket. Ash never sees them. They literally do nothing. And other than Meowth, we don’t see another pokemon from them except in the credits where we see Wobbuffet. What was their point of being in the movie? This movie would have been perfect if they weren’t in it.

Voice wise, Sarah Natochenny, you KNOCKED IT OUT OF THE PARK. I know I was never a fan of you voicing Ash. I mean, Rica Matsumoto is literally tops. And then Veronica Taylor, I will never forget. But your performance here was wonderful. Kate Bristol, Suzy Myers, Michele Knotz, I’m so happy to hear you all. Jimmy Zoppi...*sighs* all I hear is Weevil. No matter who you voice. Meowth sounds like Weevil. James sounds like Weevil with a cold. Professor Oak sounds like Weevil if he was an old man. I’m never going to get over that.

Shipping wise...AH-HA! Gotcha there, it was Pikashipping. And nothing else!

Music wise, I know they only kept like one original BGM and everything else was tampered. I mean it was okay. The opening still brings back nostalgic feels. The ending theme, kind of sweet really.

Sorry for being all ranty with this entry. But I didn’t want to wait 2-3 years to tell people how I really felt about this movie when I review Sun and Moon. Plus I just saw this movie like 4 hours ago. So I’m still pretty hyped.

I don’t give number scores with my reviews so please just go by what I say here. See this movie. There are 3 more days in the U.S. where you can find a theater to watch this. If not, wait three weeks and watch it on Thanksgiving weekend on Disney XD.

Phew. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day and I earned myself some pizza.