#and the beat of this part too

[duahauuoplanh]

This particular choreography of 2PM's "Again and Again" is just ahead of its time.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

[captainmaxatx]

I think Deadpool and Wolverine 2 should start with them beating the shit out eachother in some nondescript field, just going full tilt completely mauling eachother

And then we see colossus come out the mansions back doors and he starts yelling about them ruining the lawn

[rui-drawsbox]

idk what is going on in chapter 7 but im not sure if i wanna know tbh

[madspeed]

twewy in persona 4... think about it .. .............. (I'm run over by 15 semitrucks)

[anbaisai]

The other day one of my profs was standing like this (& fidgeting with a pen) while talking to us and I'm like "wow that's such an Ace Trappola pose" so I had to redraw it

In hindsight I think he probably stood like that bc his feet hurt...

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 118

Everyone is freaking out. The titan tower was broken into, no signs of who it was, and Tim- Robin- is missing. There’s blood on the walls, taunting them, implying that Tim is going through agony, and they can’t deal with another dead Robin, they can’t- 

Meanwhile Tim is bemused, maybe a little concussed because that would explain things maybe, as he’s found himself in a living room full of books and there’s a pair of kids too? One is straight up adoption bait- wait no there’s three, with two of them being adoption bait and the third being a redhead. There’s a trio of small children there already playing by the couch he’s been bundled into. 

Where the heck is his mask- or his bo staff or any of his supplies- is that the fucking Red Hood?! No, couldn’t be, must be the concussion, because why would the Red Hood be feeding him a bowl of soup?

[tartppola]

very specific au thought, silver if he was the shield instead ( read the tags to see explanations )

[wanderingibon]

a flock of birds, a crow family — everything aside, despite viago's frosty, stern demeanor I think both he and teia care about rook like family, in a way that goes past the pretenses of being a crow or just part of house de riva, they're literally found family to meeeeee

and while you have time, please consider finding a family on op. olive branch 🍉 and supporting / sharing their campaigns, especially the ones with low funding <3

[rev-velvet]

In the wise words of our queen:

Lowkey though Im not even mad nor suprised that Team Bear cubs won yall was fightin like Mr.Grizz was 'bout to cut your pay by 80% if you didn't

[bixels]

Splatoon 3: Side Order is good, but not great. I still highly recommend it, but if you care about the story, you're going to be disappointed. Quick review: spoilers ahead.

Side Order was the devs experimenting with Splatoon's gameplay loop. The campaign is a rogue-like, and it works amazingly well. Super fun, super challenging, building my deck and fighting through challenges with the stakes of resetting really scratched an itch in my brain. They did a great job with it.

Unfortunately, I feel like priority went to game design rather than story. Much of the mysterious artwork we saw in the first teaser trailer was completely unused; turns out, all of that was just concept art that never made it into the final product. Side Order failed to make me care about what was happening. I don't know why the protagonist had to be Agent 8; it could've been anyone else and the story would've worked the same.

Octo Expansion was the absolute peak of meshing story and gameplay. The campaign's hook is insanely strong; we immediately empathize with Agent 8 because we know from previous lore that octolings like her have been trapped underground for all their lives. We care about her fight to the surface because it's a fundamentally ideological fight for freedom. The plot stuff about Tartar and the Thangs is just nice set dressing; 8's fight for freedom is the real story.

There's none of that in Side Order. I don't particularly care about Marina's metaverse, even if it's tied to Octo Expansion's story. I don't know why Acht is there other than backstory stuff. It really feels like 8 is just told to do something and she does it because she's the protagonist; she has zero personal stakes or motivations in the conflict. This is a story blunder the devs did in Splatoon 3's default campaign––forgetting to give the protagonist a personal reason to fight––that I hoped would be fixed here, but alas.

What makes it worse is that the gameplay and story progression are completely out of sync. I beat the entire game on my third run in 4 hours. With each run, you get up to two keys to potentially unlock bits of story. That means you'll get about one piece of the story every two runs. There are twelve pieces of the story; I got the first and then beat the whole damn game. Now I have to go back and grind to see the remaining story when I've already beaten the final boss and resolved the conflict. I missed the entire story because I never had to reset because I blazed through the gameplay! It's just a real shame that I experienced everything without knowing... why it's happening. The final boss had me asking myself what the hell is going on because I don't know the backstory at all.

Again, I still really recommend. The devs did a great job, but Side Order remains in the shadow of Octo Expansion's incredible success. Like the default singleplayer campaign, there's just a lot of lost story potential here that, while not necessary, would have really elevated this DLC into something amazing.

[agenericplaceholdername]

Going into this fight, Rapton's impression of Lloyd is that he's a talented warrior who wouldn't kill him, since he was willing to risk his life and walk the "Impossible" Path to save Rapton. That's why Rapton spends most of his time bantering and bragging about being able to buy more unicorn figurines.

Meanwhile, Lloyd just lost Kai, has only just started controlling the visions that were tormenting him, and blames Rapton for the death of Riyu's mother. If it weren't for him saving Rapton's life, the Matriarch would have lived (in Lloyd's mind). Let's be clear -- when he held Rapton over the edge of the hover chariot, he was ready to drop him, despite his assertion that "all life is important." The Ninja don't have a "no killing" code.

[boringkate]

Heartwarming Christmas movie: Femboy quits his soulless dead end job in an isolating unwalkable small town and returns home to the big city for the holidays. He falls for a tgirl pro domme who teaches him the meaning of satanism while introducing him to a client who may be Santa.

[kazanskyy]

iceman + his concern for maverick post-hop 31

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Siffrin plays Disco Elysium AU: Featuring backseat gamer Loop.

[misc-obeyme]

Spear Lessons

I had an idea, so I wrote it. A huge shout out to this guy's youtube where I watched his videos on how to use a spear multiple times in order to write this. Also I'd like to say that there are a lot of suggestive words when it comes to spears, but I swear this is entirely sfw.

GN!MC x Raphael

Warnings: none, it's fluff

You hefted your bag onto your shoulder more snugly as you made your way down the front stairs at RAD. You were finally done with classes and after school meetings. It was time to make your way back to the House of Lamentation.

You were thinking about what you would do when you got there as you walked through campus. You stayed on the path, following it as it wound through the grounds. Your thoughts were disturbed when something bright caught your eye.

You turned your head in that direction only to stop dead in your tracks.

It was Raphael and the glint from the gold of the diamonds in his hair had been what you had seen.

There was nothing unusual about seeing Raphael around campus, but you were entranced by what he was doing.

In his hands, Raphael held one of his infamous spears. It was no simple wood and iron spear, either. It looked like it was made of gold and steel, bright as the eternal Celestial Realm sun.

He was moving through a specific set of moves, holding the spear firmly, thrusting and lunging at imaginary opponents.

Your heart raced as you watched him. His footwork was precise but complicated, making him look like a deadly dancer. His face was as serious as it always was, composed and full of concentration.

Raphael turned in his routine and his eyes focused on your face. He stopped moving, looking at you over the shining tip of the spear.

You were wondering if you should say something when Raphael pulled the spear back, holding it at his side and standing straight out of his fighting stance.

"MC," he said. He didn't sound upset that you were watching him. He sounded just as he always did.

You were flustered, though, at having been caught. "I'm sorry," you said. "I didn't mean to stare at you or to interrupt. I was just curious." You couldn't exactly say that you were a little entranced by him, too.

Raphael cocked his head a little. "Are you interested in learning to use the spear, MC? I can show you the basics."

You blinked. You hadn't really thought about it, but now that he had suggested it…

"I would like that," you replied.

Raphael nodded. "We can start now, if you like."

You immediately shrugged off your book bag and left it in the grass. "Okay," you said.

Raphael gestured for you to stand in front of him. Then he handed you his spear. You took it reverently, especially because you felt like you were handling something holy.

"It isn't fragile," Raphael said, seemingly picking up on your sense of uncertainty. "Grip it firmly."

"Like this?" you asked, attempting to emulate how you had seen him holding it earlier.

"Your grip depends on how you intend to use it," Raphael said. "Let's start with the basic thrust move. For that you'll want your dominant hand closer to the base of the spear. It will be the one directing your thrusts."

You rearranged your hold a bit, to be closer to what you thought was correct.

Raphael studied your hold for a moment. "Now thrust the spear forward with both hands, without changing their position, and lunge forward with your front foot. Make sure to keep your stance a bit low to the ground."

You did as he instructed and then froze in place with the spear extended. The tip didn't quite reach Raphael, but it was inches away from his chest. He seemed unperturbed.

"That's good, MC," he said. "But your power is lacking. You need to put your dominant hand a little further back."

You readjusted your hand and tried again.

After several repetitions of the move where Raphael simply watched you, he held up a hand.

You stopped, still in a fighting stance, and waited.

Raphael circled around behind you. You figured he was looking at all the ways in which you were standing incorrectly.

And then you felt his hands on yours. And you realized he was standing close enough to put his arms around you and hold the spear with you.

"You need to hold it more on an angle, like this." Raphael's voice was right next to your ear and you tried not to think about the goosebumps that rose on your skin. He adjusted the angle of the spear.

"When you thrust, simply go straight forward. Be careful not to do this." He demonstrated by thrusting the spear, his chest pressing against your back as he did. It was clear that he was telling you not to let the spear go out from your body before it went forward toward your opponent.

"Keep it steady," Raphael said. "And step into the forward movement."

Raphael let go of you and stepped back. "Try it again," he said.

You were grateful he was behind you now, hoping it meant he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks. You had to take a breath before attempting the move again.

After your next attempt, you couldn't stop yourself from looking over your shoulder at him, for confirmation on whether or not you had improved.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw the gentle smile on his face. He nodded in approval.

You spent another solid hour practicing this basic move with Raphael's spear. It started to feel like second nature, as if that beautiful shining weapon somehow belonged in your very own human hands.

When you realized you needed to get back to the House of Lamentation, you carefully handed Raphael back his spear.

He stood it upright beside him, smiling at you again. Your heart shuddered at the sight - he looked absolutely angelic when he smiled at you like that.

"You did well, MC," he said. "I think you have potential with the spear, if you'd like to continue training."

You shrugged at the praise. "I just had a really good teacher, that's all."

Raphael sighed and shook his head a little. "I think I was a bit too distracting for you. But you managed to improve despite that. You truly are remarkable, MC."

You blushed because it was pretty clear from this statement that he had been aware of the reactions you had attempted to hide.

To your complete astonishment, Raphael reached out and put his hand on your cheek. "This is what I mean," he said.

You fought to stop yourself from blushing even more, but it was a losing battle. "Um, I should get back…"

Raphael stepped away from you, then smiled and said, "If you keep practicing, you'll be able to put those brothers in their place in no time."

You laughed. It was such a hilarious image, you couldn't help it. "I can't wait to see the looks on their faces," you said.

You thanked Raphael and made a plan to continue your training at a later time. As you grabbed your bag, you stopped for a moment to watch as he fell into an elaborate routine once again. You wouldn't soon forget the feeling of his hands on yours or the sound of his voice, low in your ear. You rushed home with the golden glint of his spear still prominent in your mind.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!