#got into so many fights when he was young and he was a boxer like jackie... they trained with viktor for a long time together

[ruvviks]

sometimes i forget that vitali really is a heywood boy

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

post fight vibes

meet cute

note: possibly a mini series but idk

after his home and the ring; jungkook's third home is the hospital.

yet, one thing he will never get used to are the bright lights. 

fuck. 

they’re always so fucking bright.

it doesn’t matter if he’s in for nearly busting his brain or if he’s just here for a casual IV drip—each time, the lights are insanely bright.

the hospital room is too white too. 

too sterile for someone like him.

his eyes flicker down to his knuckles. they’re split and bruised, resting against his stomach, rising and falling with each slow breath. his lip is cut, swollen at the corner, and when he rolls his shoulders back, he winces—just slightly—like he's trying not to show it.

suddenly, the doors burst open and his head turns towards it. 

you walk in. 

navy blue scrubs, white doctors coat, and your hair is tied high and back. 

it’s… love at first sight. 

your cheeks are so perfect. that’s the first thing he notices about you. they have this puff that makes him wonder if anyone has ever complimented you on them. next, are your lips. they’re perfectly shaped—so kissable. maybe he’s just that fucked in the head but everything about you looks so perfect. like your eyes are the exact size they need to be. you button nose where your glasses sit so cutely… 

god help him. 

maybe he got beat up a little too much this match. 

jungkook swallows drly as you approach him. you pull out the scans and show him on the monitor. you glance at them and then at him. for a moment, you’re silent and he doesn’t know if he should be saying anything. 

should he introduce himself? 

better yet, can you introduce yourself?

"you're concussed," you say simply.

jungkook blinks at you, like he was expecting more. 

"that bad?"

"you've had worse." you say it simply as you click on the monitor and pull out old scans from months ago. your eyes widen as you look through the ones from the past 3 years. pausing at one scan from 2019, you use your pen to gesture around the areas where he’s been concussed before. “this old one? probably your worst one.” 

he huffs out a laugh, shifting in his seat. 

"my brain is still here, though. couldn’t have been that bad, huh?"

you don’t humor the joke. 

"debatable."

his grin widens, even through the soreness. "harsh, doctor…”

“doctor ___.” 

“___,” he breathes. “that’s pretty.”

“doctor ___.” you correct.

“right,” jungkook folds. then, the moment shifts. he can’t help but blurt; “... you sure you're not just mad you had to sub in for my usual guy?"

"not mad," you say, flipping through his chart. "just not impressed."

he laughs again, low and raspy, like this whole thing is funny. like the fractures and bruising on his scans are nothing more than a bad grade on a test.

"aren't you too young to be a doctor?"

you glance at him, raising a brow. 

"aren't you too young to have this many head injuries?"

his smile lingers, but he doesn’t say anything for a beat like he's trying to come up with a clever response. like he's trying to read you.

"did you win?" you ask instead.

"huh?"

"your fight."

his grin flickers—surprise, maybe. or amusement. 

"yeah. of course."

you nod, flipping the chart closed. 

"is it worth it?"

he tilts his head, the movement slow. calculated. like he's trying to see if you're serious. truth be told, he can’t read you. not your tone or your facial expression. it intrigues him… how could someone be so warm and so cold at the same time? you’re lukewarm… but it’s refreshing. it’s scratches his fucked up brain somehow.

"i'll tell you," jungkook muses, "if you go out with me."

you scoff. 

"that's okay."

he waits.

"some things are worth asking about," you say, pushing your chair back. you stand up and lean over to check over his vitals. as you fix his IV, you squint as you notice his knuckles. for some reason, jungkook suddenly fights to urge to reach for you. his fingers twitch. you see it. you brush it off and say; "some things aren't worth the answer."

you don’t miss the way his lips part slightly, his brows lifting in surprise. 

you don’t stick around to see if he has a follow-up. you grab your clipboard and head towards the door. as you push the door open to leave, you bid him goodbye. 

"rest up, mr. jeon."

the next time jungkook is back, it's not you.

"dr. ___ isn’t in today?" jungkook asks, trying to sound… anything but how it came out.

namjoon doesn’t look up from his notes. 

“you met her?”

“yeah,” he breathes. “can’t get her out of my head ever since.”

namjoon chuckles as he takes out his slit lamp and examines jungkook’s eye movement. as jungkook’s eyes follow the light, nam joon continues;

"why’s that?”

“dunno,” jungkook confesses. 

namjoon can’t take jungkook seriously. he’s never been the type to care about girls since they’ve always come to him one way or another… but knowing you, he should’ve known jungkook would take interest. 

“miss her or something?" nam joon teases. “love at first concussion?”

“not my first concussion… and i was just wondering. shit, man.” jungkook shrugs, trying to move past it. suddenly, he’s embarrassed. 

namjoon hums, like he doesn’t believe him (because he doesn’t).

"she doesn't date patients," namjoon says, flipping a page and writing down notes from jungkook’s checkup. "definitely not ones with a brain like yours."

jungkook blinks. "is it that bad?"

namjoon grins. "she spends her days saving patients who get injured unwillingly. you? boxing? that's a choice. you're her least favorite kind of patient."

"but am i her type?"

namjoon laughs and shakes his head. 

"your brain is fucked up."

when jungkook’s checkup finishes, he says goodbye to namjoon and exits the room. 

then, like fate, he sees you in the hall when he's leaving. you're walking in the opposite direction, clipboard tucked against your hip, eyes scanning over charts.

jungkook doesn’t think. 

he moves.

jungkook catches up to you and taps your shoulder. as you turn your head to respond, he steps forward and in front of you instead. suddenly, you face him.

"you."

you blink up at him, unimpressed. "me."

"i'm not concussed anymore."

"i'm glad,” you smile at him softly before you lower your gaze back to your charts. “have a good day mr. jeon—"

"i won that match," he says, like it's important. like it means something.

you pause.

"i'm a good boxer," he continues, standing taller. "i don’t get injured that much. when you saw me last… i let the guy get in a few hits. whatever… it was for show, i swear to god… but if you go out with me, i promise to always win and never get a head injury ever again."

you stare at him.

he waits.

you exhale, shifting your clipboard to the other hand. then, before he can say anything else, your fingers push into his hair, ruffling it gently.

his breath hitches.

you drop your hand and step past him.

"i think you're still a little concussed," you murmur. 

“i’m not,” jungkook says, voice soft. “one chance.”

you tilt your head at him and for a moment, you really contemplate. his lip looks almost healed. his knuckles are only bruised now… for a moment, you want to give in. 

“do you ever lose?”

he scoffs. “no.”

you nod and begin to slip away. jungkook stands there confused at the growing distance. as you walk away, you tell him; 

“maybe you should learn how to.”

“why? so you can feel better about rejecting me?"

jungkook tilts his head, lips twitching. he lifts his foot to move to you but you shake your head at him. he stops his tracks. cutely, you mimic him and tilt your head too, feigning sympathy. 

"no, so you stop getting concussed."

he grins, sharp and easy. "i told you, i don't get injured that much."

"right… just enough to keep me employed."

his laughter comes quick, like he wasn't expecting that. 

"damn," he mutters, shaking his head. "you got a sharp tongue, doc."

you exhale through your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve given him, and start toward the door. with one hand, you wave him off, like he’s not worth the breath it takes to keep talking.

but just before you step out, jungkook hears you murmur over your shoulder—low, teasing, like you’re indulging him for just a second longer.

"good thing you’re used to taking hits, jeon."

jungkook’s smile lingers long after you’ve disappeared down the hall. for a moment, he contemplates on running after you and continuing to annoy you… and then, for the nth time today… he thinks. 

he’ll be back. 

injured or not—he’s coming back just for you.

[padmesweetheart]

Caught in 4K

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Young Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Domestic Chaos

Word Count: ~2,100

1/5 of the Hayden Vs Ring Camera series

Harold makes a comeback

It started out like a normal morning.

You were at work, sipping lukewarm coffee from the world’s saddest vending machine, minding your own business, when your phone pinged with a Ring notification.

Motion detected: Front Porch — 9:12 a.m.

You tapped it absentmindedly, expecting to see the mail carrier or maybe Harold the donkey getting too close to the steps again.

Instead… oh.

Oh.

You watched in real-time horror as your husband—your tall, once-dignified, formerly Jedi husband—stepped outside in his usual “morning farm chores” attire (read: boxers, hoodie, socks, no shame), holding a bag of feed in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

You’d warned him about those steps a dozen times. “They get slick with morning dew,” you said. “Be careful,” you said.

But did he listen?

Of course not.

In stunning high-definition, you watched Hayden Christensen take one confident step onto the porch… and immediately bust his ass.

Like, full wipeout. Legs up, arms flailing, coffee airborne like a dramatic slow-mo explosion in an action movie.

He landed flat on his back with an audible THUD, the bag of feed bursting beside him like a pillow fight gone wrong.

You gasped—then clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing out loud in the breakroom.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself, rewinding the footage because yes, it was that good. You even screen-recorded it. For safety. For insurance. For….blackmail.

Just as you were about to text him and check if he was alive (after laughing a little longer), he beat you to it.

Hayden:

I’m fine.

In case the ring camera ratted me out

Don’t ask how I know. I felt it.

You wheezed into your coffee.

When you got home that evening, you walked through the door with the kind of innocent smile that was way too innocent.

Hayden was sprawled dramatically on the couch with an ice pack under his back, hoodie half-zipped, hair tousled like a man who’d been in a bar fight with gravity.

You dropped your bag and crossed your arms. “So… how’s your tailbone?”

He squinted at you. “How many times have you watched it?”

You didn’t even try to lie. “Four.” Pause. “Okay, six.”

He groaned and threw a pillow over his face. “This is how I die. Not from the fall….from the shame.”

You flopped onto the couch beside him, pulling the pillow off just enough to kiss his forehead. “You really went down like Bambi on ice, babe.”

“That was not Bambi. That was full Wile E. Coyote. There was….. hang time.”

“I was gonna say… you were in the air longer than I thought physics would allow.”

He peeked at you through one eye. “You screen record it?”

“…No.”

“Liar.”

You grinned and snuggled into his side, gently rubbing his chest like you were soothing a wounded war hero. “Don’t worry. I’ll only show it to our future kids, the neighbors, and your agent.”

“You’re evil.”

“I’m in love.”

He sighed dramatically. “At least let me edit in cool sound effects first. Like, when I fall, it goes ‘WAAHHH—bonk.’”

You snorted. “Deal.”

A beat of silence passed, and then, with absolutely no shame, you whispered,

“…You did a full mid-air starfish, babe. I’ve never been prouder.”

He buried his face in your lap and groaned, “Take me out back like Harold. I can’t live like this. Put me in the barn”

Taglist: @skyguytoast @dessxoxsworld

[m1kad00]

How it would be like to be in a relationship with them (Cyberpunk 2077 Characters)

Characters included: Judy Álvarez, Young!Viktor Vektor, Muamar Reyes, Misty Olszewski

Reader: fem. reader for Judy, otherwise no pronouns mentioned :)

Judy Álvarez (fem. reader)

-Judy is a really REALLY good girlfriend

-literally the best romance option in the game

-she was probably a bit nervous to actually tell you she had feelings for you, because of her last relationships/crushes

-but after you assured her that you indeed loved her back she was over the moon!!

-date nights include going to her lake house and having a good time

-she wouldn't care for "fancy" dates, just you and her sitting on the roof of a house and just talking for hours

-she'd also invite you to go diving with her to show you her old hometown ("I'm picky about my girls" JAZGHDZABJSIGIB)

-Judy loves gifting you stuff and hanging out with you!

-she would gift you a BD she made of her favorite moments together (probably copied it too, because she also wanted to look at it

-she's a messy girl, won't put anything where it belongs

-but she's not lazy, she'll clean eventually (probably)

-she's the big spoon

Young!Viktor Vektor (gn reader)

-you first met him when you went to watch a boxing competition

-then you saw that GORGEOUS boxer with ENORMOUS talent

-he won the fight (pretty easily, even tho he doesn't even have any chrome)

-you went over to congratulate him and he was super friendly

-of course you went to his next competition, and to the one after that, and so on

-it got so bad (or good) that Vik was even expecting you

-he began to look forward to seeing you in the crowd

-it even felt like he was fighting just for your entertainment

-at some point he just asked you out, it was obvious you'd say yes

-you went on a few dates and eventually got together

-anyone from miles away could tell he was down BAD

-when he eventually got second place on one of his competitions he found the courage to tell you he'd stop boxing

-you were fine with it of course, it's his life after all

(Ripperdoc husband is better anyways lol)

Muamar Reyes (gn reader)

-let's be real, you were one of many

-he is a FINE man, had a lot of money and he was one of NC's well known fixers

-what more could a person want?

-he really thought he wasn't the one to settle down, until you entered his life

-normaly you wouldv'e just been another merc

-but there was something about you..

-he probably confessed to you, and you returned his feelings

-after you started dating you guys spent more and more time together

-you watching him fix cars, driving around NC or just chilling together at his place

-he's a cocky bastard, so you would have a few arguments over little simple things, but you would eventually forgive him because he's just an sarcastic ass most of the time

-but when you both are overlooking Santo Domingo, without anyone disturbing you two he'd eventually talk about his feelings and how much he loves you

-also he would tell you about his life growing up in Santo, becoming a corpo and then eventually turning into his now-self

-he also would like to have kids at some point, but if you don't want any he's also okay with that (he'd also be fine with adopting)

Misty Olszewski (gn reader)

-she's a super sweet girl!!

-she met you months after Jackies death

-Misty never would have thought she'd get over what happened to him

-but there you were, listening to her problems and taking things slowly

-so after a while, you two fell in love

-you guys could talk for hours on end about the most random things

-also random tarot-board dates and doing silly stuff!

-she'd also read your futures and would teach you to read hers

-she's SUCH an artsy girl (trust me)

-you two would upsycle thrifted chlothes and do random Trends, like the one where you make bracelets based on the others eye color or the Trend where you paint eachother

-she has a thing for plants and candles

-your shared apartment is FULL of them (also those Fragance sticks)

-it constantly smells like a perfume shop

-she's a cat person, you guys would have a black cat 100% (if they'd still exist)

[fandomfluffandfuck]

https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfluffandfuck/760023370649812992?source=share

PLEEEAASEE WRITE A FULL THING ABOUT THIS OMGGGG 🙏

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

related to this, that reads, "sorry i got a huge wet spot on my boxers and started whining and whimpering and rutting against you while we were play fighting. ignore it. uhhh yeah it will happen again. sorry"

HELL YEAH, I will write that and I will write the fuck out of it!!

Pre-war setting, getting together, grinding, almost underage vibes? like this is post-high-school, so they're of age, but there's also discussion about feeling young, y'know?

Time doesn't feel real for Steve or Bucky right now. It's purgatory in the sticky, hot, barely-breathable-heat-clinging-to-your-throat summer after miraculously lasting through all of high school. They're supposed to be real adults now--they graduated, they're done, move on and be a part of the real world, why don't'cha, boys? They're supposed to be adults with jobs, saving up for their brides and eventual babies as the breadwinners. Men of their houses. Respectively.

Bucky is... well... he has the job part, not so much the savings part (in this economy?) or the gal who he's supposed to be going steady with, dreaming about wedding then knocking her up with his babies, as many as they can have. He's got gals, that ain't the problem, the problem is that none of 'em that he brings around ever last that long to think about rings.

All that said, if Bucky is nearly there, then Steve certainly isn't there at all. He ain't an adult yet. Not really. He doesn't look like an adult, for one, he's still short and scrawny, far from the strapping family man he's supposed to grow up and be. But, also, he has no job, he has no savings, he has no gals mooning after him. All he has is this one last short season of responsibility-less summer before it all gets serious.

So, Steve plans to savor this one last summer as much as he can. Meaning, a'course, while his Ma is out for her evening shift at the hospital and before Bucky has to high tail it out of the matchbox-sized Rogers' apartment to make it to work bright and early in the morning, here they are. Alone. Just two pals, lounging around and melting into the sofa with the oppressive Brooklyn summer heat. Trying and failing to stay cool, even with sheets over the windows to keep the light out.

It's just the two of them and their sleeveless undershirts and boxers, sweating through the fabric. And, like always, when it's just the two of them, it's devolved into reckless stupidity--

Boys will be boys.

They start out with Bucky reading one of his sci-fi books and chuckling to himself, sprawled out to ward off excessive heat, while Steve sketches quietly next to him, more curled up since the warmth does him more good than bad. They're shoulder to shoulder. Nothing weird. They've always been close. They grew up in each other's pockets, spending as much time at the other's crowded home as their own. But. Then, they're closer than close as they're rolling off the bed and onto the floor with two matching "oof"s of air being punched from their chests.

Nearly immediately from the commotion of landing in a heap of sweaty boys in the floor, the scuffed, beat-up coffee table of Steve's Ma's--she got it for free from one of the other nurses at work--has gotten shoved out of the way. Also, the thin carpet underneath their writhing, squirming bodies gets thrown ascew, shoved over chaotically, rolling up under itself. Steve finds himself sweating even more, really coating every inch of his skin as he fights to have the upper hand in their play wrestling match.

Rolled over and rolled around, Steve is currently on top and winning because his bony fucking elbows and sharp knees are merciless weapons that give him the advantage every now and again (just when he can manage to hit Bucky in the right spots). Not unscathed, Bucky's shirt has rolled up, showing off the whole band of his underwear and a slice of his pale stomach. There's a light dusting of hair leading down towards his crotch that Steve's not seen before. That, and new muscle definition creeping in from a mix of his labor-heavy, adult job and how there's never enough food to go around these days. It's just more proof that Bucky is an adult these days. Damn.

Steve ignores those curious parts of his best pal, though, 'cause they're laughing and chuckling and upping the ante to make each other giggle, gasping for air, more until... slowly, slowly, slowly, the humor of it dies down, turning into grunts of effort and breathless shit-talk that's all bark and no bite.

Steve ends up pinned, wiggles out of it, Bucky gets pushed back onto his side, but not all the way over, then Steve's back on his back, ultimately, though--

Steve gets situated on both of Bucky's legs and victoriously grins down at him, his hair hanging over his forehead, blonde and damp. He's won. He's just waiting for Bucky to say it now.

C'mon. Say it! Say it! Steve chants in his own head, too out of breath to shit talk at this juncture.

But Bucky just doesn't know when to give up (something they both have in common as cursed by one Sarah Rogers and another Winnie Barnes). So, the coffee table ends up shuddering from the impact of Bucky's hip when he tries to roll unsuccessfully and get Steve off of him. Steve snickers at him, knowing he's not hurt. Steve clings to Bucky's larger, more muscular, more adult-feeling (and looking) body to stay put. He isn't going down.

In retaliation, on his back, smiling like a goof, Bucky sticks his tongue out. Of course, Steve just does it back. But, not before internally debating if he has the breath or not to blow a raspberry on his exposed skin--it's what he deserves for being a squirmy little shit (nevermind that Steve uses the same tactic when he's the one who's pinned). He doesn't have the breath, though. So, he'll settle for sticking out his tongue.

Even as he teases his friend, this wistfullness overtakes Steve--it's been a good summer. The heat is good for Steve's body, not for his asthma, but his joints and bones like it well enough it doesn't matter. He hasn't had a cold in ages. And, obviously, it has to have been a good season for him to be so enthusiastically wrangling Bucky like he is. Playfighting like this is peaceful. Fun. Super fun. Steve doesn't ever want to grow up if he has to give this up.

Crawling all over Bucky, gathering his wrists in both hands but then finding he can't do much else without his hands free, Steve gives them up and shoves at his shoulders instead, tickles his grossly sweaty armpits, exposed thanks to his tank-top, jabs his bared stomach, and gets all of his (light) weight centered on his hips to keep the other man down. He's got this. He's gonna keep him right here. He's stuck. Sucks to suck.

It's so fucking fun to wrestle like they are, but Steve can't help his competitive nature rising up inside him. He can't take shit unseriously. It's in his blood. He knows Bucky isn't using all his strength against him, but he knows that he's using enough. It's taking effort for them both to play fight like they are. Bucky's using a hell of a lot more force against Steve's bird-boned body than anyone else would ever dare. And Steve is relishing in it. He's fired the fuck up. He's gonna win. He's on top. He's gonna pin Bucky so good and jab him with bony knees and tickle him until he cries uncle.

Then, with the victory under his belt, he'll have ammo to hurl at Bucky for the rest of the summer, lording it over his head until he's frustrated enough that he challenges him to a second round. It'll be exactly as fun to wrestle that second time, too. So. There's nothing to lose. It's a perfect plan.

Steve is so focused. He's moving over top of Bucky, crawling everywhere, pushing, shoving, thinking about what he's gonna do next and where Bucky's weak spots are, how to exploit them, and sythesizing all this playful strategy when any and all of Steve's focus is shot to shit as--

A fractured whimper fills the heavy, hanging air between their barely-clad bodies. Loud and unable to be ignored.

Instantly, Steve stops in his tracks. Wiggling to stock still. At first, he's pretty sure he's hurt Bucky with a noise like that and so he fucking freezes. He didn't mean to do any actual damage! He doesn't want to actually hurt him! They were just rough housing and he got carried away. An apology is already spinning in his mind. But.

Oh.

Steve has stopped moving, leaving him with his thigh pushed up tight between Bucky's legs and, oh, that's Bucky's dick. Steve can feel it. It's hard as... as fuck.

It's harder than anything Steve's felt. Ever.

Still not moving, rooted in his place precarously on top of his best friend, Steve realizes that it's hot, too.

Hot and hard.

His dick.

And a new, completely different kind of heat wave washes stickily over Steve from the cheeks down. Dumbly, his mouth hangs open, he should apologize and skitter away, but he can't move; he's stuck, feeling his blood push through his veins, hotter and hotter with every rickety pump.

Bucky feels it, too. The new, fresh heat wave. It's plain to fucking see that he feels it too--with his hard, hot body and dick underneath him, close enough they're touching everywhere--he's sucked his pink, pink bottom lip between his white teeth, his eyes are squeezed shut, and his blush is a million times worse now than it was when he was just reading his book on the couch and suffering through the heat that way. He's painted in color and gloss, sweating through his undershirt now. Its thin, white fabric clings wetly to his heaving chest. Steve's throat makes a funny sound as he realizes that his friend's his nipples are hard and obvious through the fabric. Targets that beg to be hit. Beneath him, Bucky's so hot that he's nothing more than a melted puddle.

However, Bucky's frozen in time, too. It's like he's so, uh, aroused that he hasn't realized Steve's not still squirming on top of him, not still fighting, not still incidentally rubbing his leg up against his dick, making him get hard and harder, harder, making him whimper, making his sweat, making him--

Steve's brain stutters to even more of a hault--no thoughts whatsoever--as he follows the line of Bucky's body down with hungry eyes, shifting his weight enough to see, oh, there's wetness on Bucky's underwear, too.

It's not sweat.

Playfighting with Steve on top of him like this makes him leak.

The frozen-overheated moment shatters in slow motion with Bucky cracking open one dazed eye, the horror dawning on his face, realizing what he's done--the sound he's just made and the line he's just crossed involuntarily with his best pal. His lips start to shape a mornful, mortified apology. But, fuck it.

Steve lets all of his repressed, denied, wished-away wanting pour forward, and he moves forward, too, surging up against Bucky to press their lips together hard. Almost as blindingly, desperately hard as Bucky is against his lean thigh.

It's hungry and urgent and hotter than the weather outside. It's everything Steve was aching for. Wanting.

Needing.

As it turns out, Bucky's whimpering tastes sweeter than it sounds. And whaddya know, his sweat and wetness feels better than it looks, too.

Fuck.

[starmieknight]

Stars Align

Dipper Vs. Manliness

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 2, The Inconveniencing (previous)

Special thank you to @disregardedblasphemy for beta reading! You're awesome <3

At one point, Stan had a bit of a crush on Lazy Susan. She’d been real cute and pretty sweet back when he first met her and she hadn’t been too upset about what happened to her eye. As the years passed, she was just one of the few single people left in his age range. That he actually liked, anyway.

Who knew so many people got married when you got old!

Now with his baby face in the way, Stan just didn’t feel right flirting with her like he normally did.

Using his ‘charming young man’ powers on her though―!

“You do split plates, right?” Stan asked, ducking his head shyly and peering up at Susan through his lashes. “We’re just poor, hungry kids on a budgeted allowance…”

Susan laughed and pinched his cheek.

“You’re just like your daddy, aren’t you? We always make an exception for Big Stan ― I can do it for Little Stan, too!”

Stan chuckled awkwardly, ignoring the ‘daddy’ comment, and offered the waitress a blinding smile.

Somewhere behind him, he heard a shutter sound and some muffled giggles.

“Tambry!” Mabel whispered, practically climbing over the back of the booth to speak to the girl on the other side. “Send me that for my scrapbook!”

Stan did his best to ignore that. And the fact that Tambry was still taking pictures of him when he wasn’t looking. Instead, he just pushed on with his order, ignoring Mabel’s protests that she wanted pancakes.

He could have made those himself if she'd wanted them so much!

Dipper, however, was more sympathetic to his sister’s plight.

“Don’t worry, guys!” he said confidently. “Pancakes are on me. I’m gonna win them by beating that manliness tester!”

“Manliness tester?” Stan asked blankly, remembering the machine that had been in the diner forever.

“Beating?” Mabel asked incredulously before bursting into laughter.

And Stan might have laughed with her if he hadn’t seen how scrappy the boy really was,  getting into fist fights with psychotic nine year olds and breaking into buildings. Still, the boy was built like a noodle and not in the typically stocky manner most Pines boys were. He didn’t even have their trademark nose, his mother’s genetics probably the cause for that. The color of it was right on point, though.

“Hold on there, sweetheart.” Stan put a hand on Mabel’s head to quiet her down, but wasn’t quite able to stop the snort that came with the mental image of Dipper beating the tester. “Your brother’s not as geeky as he seems, sometimes. I wanna see him try! Besides, it’ll be a good chance for me to see where he is before I start yous two on boxing lessons!”

“You’re going to teach us how to box?” Dipper asked skeptically.

Stan’s grin widened and he flexed his arms, thick cords of muscle visible even under his baby fat.

“You’re lookin’ at the best boxer from Glass Shard Beach! Goldmill Gym’s got all my old trophies lining the walls!”

At least, it had forty years ago. Old Man Nicky was surely dead now and probably had been pissed enough to throw out Stan’s medals when he’d disappeared into the night. Besides, the man had been friends with Pa ― Stan wouldn’t be surprised if the medals were melted down to make gold chains.

You’re a bum, Stanny. But you can take a hit and give ‘em back twice as hard.

Mabel latched onto Stan’s bicep, giggling wildly as he curled his arms a few times, threatening to drop her back into the booth.

“Hmmm,” Dipper hummed, eyeing Stan’s arms thoughtfully. “...okay. I mean, how different could it be from kickboxing?”

Stan grinned at him. “That’s the spirit, kiddo! Now ― go win us some pancakes!”

Dipper beamed at him.

It didn’t last long, however, the boy failing miserably and running out in the face of Manly Dan showing him up. Stan didn’t think the man meant anything by it. He probably just wanted more pancakes or was trying to feed what he thought was a bunch of hungry kids. He was just like that sometimes. Blunt and lacking tact.

Stan was the same.

He looked between his plate and the empty doorframe, conflicted.

Was he supposed to chase after the kid or give him space so he could lick his wounds?

Moses, he missed Old Nicky ― the man would already have a diet planned to help put muscle on the kid or have him chasing chickens and bench pressing hogs. He had a weird way of training his boxers, but he’d made Stan quick on his feet and able to find a weak spot on guys with more fat rolls than average.

“He’ll be fine,” Mabel rested her hand gently on Stan’s arm. Her smile was familiar, but it didn’t really meet her eyes. She almost looked guilty.

“Of course, he will.” Stan smiled back at her half-heartedly. “He’s a Pines. We always end up alright.”

Mabel didn’t look convinced, but she let it go for a moment. She began eating her pancakes, but some of her enthusiasm was lost.

“... do you think I shouldn’t have laughed at him?”

Stan winced, hearing the hurt in her voice. “Probably didn’t help…”

Mabel deflated, losing some of her usual vibrancy. “He’s really serious about becoming a man. Growing chest hair and wishing his voice would stop cracking…”

“People make it into a big deal.” Stan shrugged, remembering how he’d waited for those body changes a lifetime ago. There’d been the awkward days with acne and voice cracks, not to mention realizing he could have a crush on nearly anyone who showed him a smidgeon of positive attention. He could only sympathize with how Dipper was feeling, especially with Stan around in his current state. The kid was probably wondering when he was going to start shooting up and filling out like his uncle. Shermie and Alec were both built big as well. Dipper probably was feeling left out. “He’s gotta figure out his new place and his body’s going through some… changes. Speaking of, please tell me your mom has had The Talk with you…”

Mabel snorted, a gleam returning to her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Grunkle Stan.” she snickered. “Mom told me everything to expect last year.”

Stan sagged in relief. “Just let me know if you need… any feminine products. Or chocolate. Or just tell Wendy and I’ll give her the money.”

Moses, was it hot in here or were his ears on fire. He never expected to have this conversation. Why did it have to be so awkward?! He’d had a mother, for crying out loud ― and a girlfriend who’d been very vocal about what cramps and mood swings did to her.

Mabel just laughed at him again, bouncing back to her normal self with an ease he envied.

“Do you think he’ll be alright once he’s done with puberty?” she asked thoughtfully, trying her straw wrapper into a neat bow. “I mean, you seem alright going through it a second time.”

Stan snorted at that. “Nah, I was pretty much set as soon as I hit sixteen the first time. The only thing that stuck around for a while was the acne. That didn’t really go away until my thirties.”

“I thought that went away after you turned twenty!” Mabel exclaimed, her face twisting with horror.

“Nope!” Stan propped his chin up on his hand, leaning close to give her a good look at the bumps on his chin. “Maybe it won’t be so bad once you get over the hump of the hormone changes, but pimples’ll pop up at random forever! But your face thingies helped mine the other day.”

“We should get you some pimple patches for the little ones!” Mabel suggested, poking a red spot on Stan’s cheek. He hissed at the little jolt of pain it caused and she pulled her hand away, expression apologetic. “Ohh! We should do another spa day!”

“Spa day?” a somewhat familiar voice asked from behind them. Tambry popped up over the back of their seat, her eyes fixed on her phone. “Count me in.”

“Me, too!” Wendy announced, sliding into the booth across from them. “We should get Stan some better clothes, too. He’s been wearing the same pair of jeans for weeks.”

“I wash them!” he protested indignantly.

“You’re gonna wear them out like that.” the redhead pointed out easily. “Also, you smell like an old man. Switch your cologne.”

“I don’t wear cologne to work. That’s just aftershave.” He rubbed his chin with a grimace, resenting the fact that his facial hair had been so patchy as a teenager. It looked weird if he didn’t shave every morning. Back when he was old, his five-o’clock shadow had been fine enough for tours ― now he just looked stupid.

“We should get him a jacket that fits!” Mabel suggested, bouncing in her seat with her thoughts a million miles away. Probably lost in some mental mall. “And a comb!”

“I wouldn’t mind getting some gel,” Stan admitted, running a hand over his unruly curls. “S’how I used to wear it.”

Wendy tilted her head, considering his face. “I can see it. Like those guys in Grease.”

Stan snapped his fingers and pointed at her with a grin. “Exactly!”

“Let’s go to the mall!” Mabel shrieked, overcome with excitement. She shook Stan’s arm, moving her body more than his bicep and looking like she was being electrocuted as a result. Or like a fish flopping on the floor of his boat. “Mall Day! Mall Day!”

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” Stan groaned.

“Nope!” Mabel and Wendy wore identical expressions, like lionesses about to pounce on some poor, old zebra. Tambry offered a thumbs up from the other side of the booth wall. ____________________________________________________________

“This was a terrible idea.”

Now, Stan was no stranger to shopping with a teenage girl. He’d dated Carla McCorkle for a while before she was stolen away by that mind-controlling musician. He was quite familiar with wandering from store-to-store while a girl ooh-ed and ahh-ed over things without making a single purchase.

He hated customers who did that and he hated being part of a group that did that.

“Grunkle Stan, this is an essential part of shopping!” Mabel punctuated her statement with a pointed slurp of her iced coffee. De-caf, of course. She was already energetic enough.

He responded with a pointed sip of his own, secretly conceding that iced coffee was good. Especially all dolled up with fancy syrups and whipped cream.

Way too expensive, though.

“C’mon, man.” Wendy rolled her eyes fondly and threw the jacket she and Tambry had been fawning over at his face. “Chill out and leave everything to us. All you gotta do is put on what we tell you and say if you like it or not.”

“I was promised hair gel.” Stan muttered petulantly. He felt the soft lining of the jacket, an old-styled bomber like the one Ford had worn as a kid, and noted that it was soft. “Can’t I just pick some jeans and go?”

“Grunkle Stan, you need to learn about style!” Mabel exclaimed, stars in her eyes. “Now that you’re not a gross old man, this is the perfect opportunity to work on my ‘Convince Dipper To Wear More Than One Outfit’ powerpoint!”

Stan stared at her blankly. “What’s that got to do with dressin’ me up?”

“Because!” Mabel exclaimed exasperatedly. “You guys look a lot alike now! Once he sees how good you look, he’ll be inspired to do the same!”

“She has a point.” Wendy shrugged. “You’ve had more women hitting on you these past few weeks than you’ve had my entire life.”

“You’re totally hot.” Tambry confirmed flatly, briefly moving her phone away from her face to show them some kind of website. There were a lot of pictures of him and it made his skin crawl. So did the comments, most filled with the little picture things from Mabel’s ‘motivational sticker pack’.

“Ugh!” Stan shuddered at the girl’s comment and threw his hands up defensively. “I― I don’t even know what to do with all that. It’s… It’s weird.”

His eyes darted around in search of an escape route and he bolted out the door with the jacket in tow. He liked it, but he’d never admit it. Or pay for it.

Stan yanked the tags off, casually dropping them in a nearby trashcan before shrugging the jacket on. Ooooh, it had nice big pockets. Perfect for shoplifting!

“Well, if it isn’t Stanley Pines.”

Stan stiffened at the voice behind him, mind racing as he tried to place it. 

Don’t panic, you’ve been introducing yourself as Stanley the Second for weeks! This is just the con beginning to pay off…

He turned, a conman’s smile curling his lip, before a shocked scream left him.

“My eyes! My poor eyes!”

It was improbable. It was impossible! It had been forty years!

But against all the odds, there was a familiar face from Glass Shard Beach in Gravity Falls.

Old Man Nicky stared at him, his expression as sour and unimpressed as ever, another generation’s worth of wrinkles making him look like a particularly grumpy bulldog. He was still wearing the same old red sweater over a gray tracksuit, thin wisps of white hair peeking out from beneath a black beanie.

It really was his old boxing coach. Really old boxing coach.

“Shouldn’t you be dead?” Stan asked before he could stop himself. A cane shot out and clocked him in the shin, making him yelp and topple over. Ugh, just like the old days.

“Shouldn’t you? Your ma told me you crashed your car into a ditch and burnt up. Guess you just got mixed up in some freaky magic shit out here. Probably somethin’ ta do with that brother of yours.”

Stan winced at the relatively spot-on observation, rubbing his leg as he looked up at Nicky. The man had shrunk over the years, but he never lost the ability to make Stan feel like some scrawny little kid.

“What’re you doin’ in Gravity Falls of all places?” he asked, not bothering with how the man knew about magic. You couldn’t live here without tripping over a gnome every other Tuesday.

“Got myself a grandson who married a selkie. Their kids like the cold and I’m mostly retired. Thought I’d spend the rest of my twilight years with them.” Nicky shrugged before piercing Stan with a stern look. “Thought about lookin’ ya up, but you were too busy runnin’ around and pretendin’ t’ be Stanford. You’re a bum, Stannie. Your impersonations suck.”

Stan straightened up with a frown, properly offended now.

“I’ll have you know,” he sniffed, tucking his hands behind his back and looking down his nose at the old man. His gruff voice smoothed into something more sophisticated and refined, the Jersey accent melting away like butter beneath a summer sun. “That I still do a fantastic impersonation of my brother… Hypothesis! Quantum physics! Exponential!”

Nicky chuckled at him, wrinkled face sagging as it softened fondly.

“That’s our Stanford.” he sighed, turning away. “Now, c’mon back to the gym and fill me in on what happened. Y’not doin’ this without good reason. Yous two hated being mixed up.”

Stan hesitated, looking over his shoulder for the girls. They were a few stores back and a few bags heavier, their eyes scanning the mall in search of him.

“I’ll have to raincheck ya on that, old man.” he hurried to say, voice returning to normal and pitched low. Secretive. “I got a couple of add-ons who aren’t exactly in on it. They can’t know.”

Nicky frowned at him, tilting his head so he could squint at the girls as they approached. Mabel had spotted them, her face lighting up as she rushed forward with a grin.

“Well,” Nicky chuckled as she caught up to them. “This one looks just like you. Braces ‘n all. She box any?”

“Grunkle Stan’s gonna teach me and my brother!” Mabel proclaimed proudly before blinking in confusion at the old man. She shrugged and offered Nicky her hand. “Hi, I’m Mabel! Are you one of my uncle’s old man friends?”

“More like his uncle.” Nicky clasped her hand gently. “You can call me Papa Nick.”

“Okay!” Mabel agreed before Stan could protest.

“Oh, c’mon old man!” he huffed. “You never let me call you Uncle Nick!”

The old man smacked him with the cane again. “That’s cause you’re a bum, Stannie. ‘Sides ― Filbrick woulda had kittens if he caught you boys goin’ soft on me.”

“Wait, you knew Grunkle Stan as a kid?!” Mabel gushed, her hands squishing her cheeks. “Oh Em Gee ― you’re like, super old! Do you have pictures of baby Stan?!”

“Course I do!” Nicky snorted. “And all’a his old trophies. Tell ya what ― yous guys come for dinner and I’ll dig ‘em out.”

“Nicky!” Stan hissed, panic seizing his chest.

The old man bopped him with the cane once more, gently this time.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, kid.” Nicky gave him a pointed look. “I’ll keep all your embarrassing secrets in storage. For now.”

Stan held his gaze a moment longer, praying that the old man would keep his word, before nodding stiffly.

“Fine. Where’re ya stayin’ these days?”

Nicky smirked, smug with victory, and shoved a business card into Stan’s hand.

“Six o’clock. Come to the back door and don’t be late or you’re washin’ towels.”

“I don’t work for you anymore, old man!” Stan shouted after him as he and Mabel rejoined the rest of the girls. “I ain’t washin’ nothin’!”

Nicky just laughed at him and continued on his way. ___________________________________________________________

“What happened to you, kid?” Stan asked in bewilderment as Dipper trudged into the house, twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair.

The boy sighed and flopped down on the floor by Stan’s armchair.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” the boy mumbled into the carpet.

“Good.” Stan said awkwardly, trying to think of a subject change to get out of another ‘feelings’ talk.

“It’s just these half-man, half-bull humanoids were hanging out with me…” Dipper blurted out suddenly, shooting up with an annoyed expression.

“Here we go.” Stan rolled his eyes. He frowned as the boy’s words reached his brain. “Wait, you talkin’ about those dumb Manotaurs? Those guys are jerks!”

“I know, right?!” Dipper threw his hands up, relieved to have another person on his side. “They wanted me to do this really tough, horrible thing ― but it just wasn’t right. So, I said no.”

The boy deflated, looking as lost as Stan felt after spending too long reading his brother’s journals.

Stan reached down, easily knocking Dipper’s hat off, and ruffled the boy’s tangled curls.

“You were your own man and you stood up for yourself.” he said firmly. Dipper looked up at him in surprise. Stan grinned at him. “You did what was right even though no one agreed with you. Sounds pretty manly to me, but whadda I know?”

Dipper smiled at him, regaining some of the life that he’d lost during his all-day workout. His brows raised as he took in Stan’s new jeans and T-shirt, the outfit capped off by his new bomber jacket.

“Hey, you look good. I like your jacket. And you finally got hair gel?”

“Thanks.” Stan thumbed the collar of his jacket, remembering the one Ford had worn when they were kids. Which, now that he was thinking about it…

“How’s about you go get ready?” Stan nudged the boy with his foot, toes digging into Dipper’s ribs and making him giggle. “We’re headin’ to a friend of mine’s for dinner and you stink.”

Dipper’s face fell. “Do we really have time for me to shower? I― I mean, is it really necessary?”

“Yep.” Stan said firmly, nudging the boy again. “Go ― use soap this time.”

The boy groaned dramatically, but headed upstairs anyway.

He could hear Mabel in the attic, singing along to some pop song at the top of her lungs. Once he heard the shower cut on, Stan bolted for the vending machine.

It was risky as hell, but he’d done worse lately.

All of Ford’s old things that might have given away his identity were stored in the basement. Six-fingered gloves, old home movies and pictures ― they all lived in boxes in the observation room. Along with a trunk of keepsakes that Ma had sent after Pa died and the pawnshop closed. She’d moved in with Shermie those last few years before her death and wanted ‘Stanford’ to have all of the twins’ old things. Probably in hopes he’d use them with a son of his own one day.

And in the trunk, there was a little old jacket with patched elbows that had seen the boys through many an adventure.

Ford’s bomber jacket.

Stan lifted it out of the trunk reverently, like one would a precious artifact. It was soft beneath his fingers, the fabric worn and the fur lining a bit matted. The elbow patches were fraying and it smelled of mothballs and old books.

He buried his face in the lining with a sniffle, wondering why he and Ford had ever drifted apart in the first place.

Stan knew he was a screw-up, but he still had no idea what he’d done to make Ford want to move across the country to get away from him.

“When did you stop liking me, Poindexter?” he sighed, tucking the jacket beneath his arm. He checked the security cameras before heading back upstairs. He’d had plenty of time to get the jacket and hide it in his room before Dipper and Mabel were ready for dinner.

No worries.

____________________________________________________________

“Uh, did you just see that, dude?” Soos whispered to Wendy, his eyes wide with shock.

“Secret door to a secret basement in the Mystery Shack?” Wendy confirmed, her normally cool facade beginning to crack. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Good to know.”

[discoscoob]

BOXER!JOHN WICK HEADCANONS

˙ ✩°˖🥊 ⋆｡˚ John Wick x Winston’s daughter!reader

I had so many ideas when I was making my bot I thought I should make some headcanons and share them. This is very quick and messy literally just straight from my head.

John was abandoned as a baby and grew up in an orphanage and had to quickly learn to fend for himself. To release pent up anger and frustrations, John often got into fights until one of the kinder members of staff introduced him to a local boxing club

John was around 17 years old when he met Winston, a boxing coach who had aspirations of being a boxer himself until his career was cut short by a bad injury, leaving him unable to fight professionally. Winston became a coach to help others achieve the dreams he once had

Winston immediately saw the potential in John and took him under his wing, becoming the closest thing John ever had to a father figure and Winston considered John a son

Under Winston’s guidance and mentorship, John turned from a troubled young man into a world famous champion boxer with an unbeaten record

With all the fame and attention John became a bit of a Casanova with all the fans and admirers he gained, he had a bit of a reputation but Winston was unconcerned with what John did with his private life as long as it didn’t distract from his career and it never did

Reaching 38, John knows that it’s time for him to retire, most professionals hang up their gloves by their mid thirties but his passion for the sport is still strong doesn’t know what he will have without boxing

It’s around this time you show up at Winston’s gym, a mysterious young woman claiming to be his long lost daughter, the product of some fleeting and messy relationship he had when he was in his 20s, you have plenty of facts and photos to prove your story legitimate and Winston accepts you with open arms, eager to make up for lost time

It’s not long before you meet his star fighter and you’re instantly drawn in by his natural charm that just seems to seep from his pores, when he talks to you, giving you his undivided attention, you feel like you’re the only person in the world

It’s not long before the pair of you develop feelings and act upon them

Sneaking around is thrilling and exciting, keeping your relationship a secret but it’s not easy

You’re both worried how Winston might take the news, considering the age difference and John’s reputation for being a bit of a lothario who has never committed to a serious relationship, considering boxing has always been his main focus

Although keeping up the facade that you’re both single comes with its downsides

Sometimes, after another victorious match, Winston will throw parties afterwards to celebrate and you watch from across the room glaring daggers at the many admires that surround John all wanting to congratulate them in their own way, thinking they stand a chance with him like they might have before he found you

In order to not raise suspicion, John entertains them to a certain extent but always makes up some excuse in the end to slip away from the party early and you follow soon after, eager to release your pent up jealousy

John always assures you there’s no one else, and it’s true, but keeping your relationship hidden takes it’s toll

When Winston does eventually find out, either because one of you accidentally lets it slip or catches you both or a sneaky paparazzi photographer gets a photo of you two kissing, he doesn’t take it too well at first

A mixture of wanting to protect you, the age difference, John’s lack of commitment to his previous relationships and his worry that the relationship is too similar to his past relationship with your mother and he doesn’t want to see this end in the same bitter way

But each day John spends with you, as he gets closer to retiring from the ring, his worry of what he will do when boxing is no longer his main focus begins to slowly fade as he realises you will be his focus

Eventually Winston comes around and although he already considered John to be like a son, it’s nice to have it made official when he becomes his son-in-law

[stellewriites]

*takes a long, luxurious drag of my fake cigarette* Stelle, darling, hello! How are you? I've come to you today with several thoughts and headcanons about our special girl: ace! stud! gaz.

☆she is THEE cuddler in the relationship. makes it a point to corner you and sweep you into her arms whenever possible.

♡wears a thin black band around her middle finger, as it's her favorite asexual symbol (I'm also trying to get a ring for myself!)

☆ I'd love to know what you think her first experience with asexuality is. Is it hearing her schoolmates go on about the celebrities they'd smash and her going "surely they're joking" only to later realize that everyone is dead serious? Is it when she accepts her lesbianism but realizes that her first girlfriend (and many of the ones after) want to experience intimacy in a way she doesn't?

♡She does her own retwists if she can't get to her regular loctician while on leave, and does her own taper fade after Soap nearly pushed her hairline back. That man can NOT be trusted with an electric razor. Soap will, however, occasionally help out on retwist days. His years of braiding his sister's hair come in handy for parting and retwisting Gaz's shoulder-length locs.

☆I've talked about my headcanon that she's British-Nigerian. Idk if I've talked about how the team practically BEGS for her to bring them jollof rice from her moms. The team has gotten into physical fights over this, with Ghost, surprisingly, emerging as the victor. Spice intolerance be damned, the man will shovel down spoonful after spoonful of rice.

♡she's reads as a stemme (stud + femme) to me (am i projecting onto her...perhaps!!)! Like, she sees her masculinity and femininity as two parts of her, coexisting in harmony. Though she prefers cargos and trousers, I feel that she regularly gets manicures.

Hope you enjoyed these! I'm trying to get my writer gears turning so I can finish these fics. Hope you're having a good day, mwahhhh😘😘😘😘

*lights my cig off of urs* you’re always welcome in my neck of the woods to chat studs/butches, birdy, you know that

THEE cuddler you say?? oh she’s clinging on during hot nights and taking it personal when you try to peel yourself away, huffing as you lay flat in front of the fan like “just say you don’t love me, it’ll hurt less”

MHM MHMM i was almost tempted to say she had the black ring tattooed, but i looooove the idea of her going shopping for the perfect ring instead 🙂‍↕️ (omg you’ll have to let me know how urs went if u found one!)

i think she knew she was a lesbian from being young, had a couple of school crushes, started getting girlfriends as she got a lil older. realised she was ace when she just kept getting uncomfortable and feeling nothing when her girlfriends would ask to go the next step with her - thought she maybe just wasn’t ready, on her worst days considered that maybe she wasn’t a lesbian after all - but it was a friend that told her about asexuality and it was like a lightbulb moment! everything just felt easier and a weight was lifted now that she had the word for it.

soap is a menace for pushing her hairline waaayyyyyy too far back (arsehole) but god does he have fantastic dexterous fingers for helping with braids and locs. the repetitive motion keeps him quiet too so price and ghost appreciate him staying out of trouble while he’s occupied

when they go to gaz’s for dinner they know to bring their tupperware with them that’s for sure, she goes all out and simon manages to get the best leftovers no matter what - even price pulling rank doesn’t get him anywhere

oh stemme is SO CUTEEEEE 🥹 she absolutely has an appreciation and love of femininity, like a quick glance and you’d assume she was mac but there’s smaller details to her that show she likes that balance: the nails like you mentioned, maybe she likes to experiment with soft pinks in her makeup for nights out, pretty lingerie that contrasts her usual boxers and sports bra.

LOVE seeing you in my inbox birdy :’) your ideas are always amazing and i’m so excited to see what you’ve got cooking (in your new fandoms of course!!) <33

[catladyoftheyr]

「 ✦ 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 & 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 ✦ 」

Warnings for: religious trauma, religious guilt, religious abuse, mentions of lent, smoking/drinking, catholic school, sex, violence/fighting, confession, prayer

Notes: this is based off an AU of a fic I’m hoping to get out this weekend where Miguel is an up and coming boxer with a checkered past. This is my! Miguel i make the rules 😘

Poor Miguel embodies catholic guilt to me. I feel like he went to catholic school and never recovered. He’s always had a temper and he’d get into fights with the other boys. He’d come with a bloody lip or a chipped tooth. I know Nuns stopped using corporal punishment in the 70s but this is my AU. Poor Miguel would get an earful and have to stay after to write lines and clean erasers. And if he was especially unlucky, a paddling. All of this only made him more angry.

He learned the Bible backward and forward. He learned his prayers, how to do the Rosary and say the Our Father. Raised to say Grace before every meal, to say your prayers on your knees before bed every night. To thank God for letting you live to see another day. He went to church every Sunday and he got his first communion and his confirmation. The photos are framed on the mantel in his parent’s home.

His anger never went away as he got older. He was known to pick fights, and to get kicked out bars. He was a rebellious teenager, mad at God, and at himself. He felt that it was going to hell anyways, he might as well make it worth his time. He’d sneak out at night, and drink with his friends. He was rowdy, loud, and reckless. He loved to drive too fast and almost got his license suspended before he’d even had it a year because he had so many speeding tickets. He’d jump the subway turnstiles and steal small things from bodegas and drug stores.

As a young adult, Miguel had a steady girlfriend. It was rocky but he was trying his best. He really cared about her and wanted to clean up his act for her. She was patient and tender, just like the Saints were supposed to be. She was a Good Catholic Girl, just what his parents wanted. But Catholic school doesn’t provide sex education. They got pregnant; Their parents pressured them into a hasty marriage before she could start showing. That’s what you’re supposed to do.

They had a beautiful baby girl, Gabriella. Miguel cried the day she was born. He knew he’d love her more than anything else for the rest of his life. He tried so hard to get his shit together for real this time. He got a real job, even. But the pressure to be the strong man of the house got to him. He started drinking heavily again, and he’d stay out late. His wife found out he was unfaithful and she left, taking Gabriella with her. Miguel’s bad behavior only gave him weekends and every other holiday.

He felt like the sky was falling, and he spiraled. He went back to church and talked to the priest. He was told to have faith in the Lord to guide him. The Lord was his shepherd and he must be patient and willing to listen. What a lousy shepherd

He eventually landed in prison for a couple years. Assault and Burglary lead to hard time. He got out on good behavior but didn’t have anywhere to go. He found a distant cousin to crash with until he got on his feet. His cousin frequented a local boxing gym, and Miguel fell in love the sport. He was a natural at it, and it was healthy outlet for his emotions.

He was working on a better custody deal with Gabriella’s mother when suddenly she passed away in a tragic accident. Miguel had found himself thrust into full custody. He enrolled the young girl in Catholic school, hoping for her to have a better relationship with God than he did. His life was just starting to be back on track when he met you at the bus stop. You’d dropped your token down a storm drain and he’d paid for your fare. He’d assumed that would be the last time he’d ever see you, but you’d slipped a post it with your cell number in his bag.

Will everything get derailed again? Or will Miguel find another saintly woman to love?

[emrgnces]

CHARACTER INFORMATION —

★  ‧₊˚  ⋆  peter gadiot.  cis male.  he/him  …  now  playing:  if you don’t like the story write your own  by  witt lowry  —  oh  ,  that  ?   might  be  adrian sarto  ,  an  thirty five  year  old  auto  tech  at  the  motor  lodge  who’s  been  hanging  around  wicklow  ridge  for  whole life  ,  just  long  enough  to  stir  up  some  trouble  if  you  ask  me.  they’re  a  regular  at  maple and main  ,  always  going  on  about  “life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood.”  like  it’s  gospel.  around  town  ,  folks  say  they’re  adaptable  &  communicative  —  but  when  they  think  no  one’s  listening  ?  it’s  more  like  broody  &  petty.  are  the  rumors  true  ?  maybe  not  …  but  it  sure  makes  life  around  here  a  little  more  interesting. 

TW: Abuse, Attempted Murder

There’s a quote : In the boxing ring of life, it's not how hard you can hit but rather how many times you can get hit and keep moving. A Wicklow Ridge Native, Adrian  was not a boxer but his Father was. He just learned to stand by what the quote entailed. Growing up in a single parent home had never been easy. Neither for Mr. Sarto or his son. Just like any other city there was always that divide between rich and poor. For the Sarto’s that line was always up and down. It wasn’t constant. On big winnings they were rolling in money even if his Father was always the spender, never the saver. He had this motto that it wasn’t going to go with him when he died, so his choices when it came to finances were never justified. They were always with impulse. When he won, the mood changed just like Mr. Sarto’s personality. The elder was like Mr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde and of course Adrian faced the brute of it all. When he wasn’t fighting in the ring, his son was almost like his next victim. Sure it lessened when the man won but after a bottle of Jack the booze set a fire within the older Sarto. And Adrian was always like a moth to a flame. As he got older though, the young Adrian got more and more accustomed to hiding the bruises. For a long while even in the warmer summer months, the young male always seemed to wear long sleeves. A habit he had to live with because if anybody questioned him about it and that got to his Father by word of mouth, there was always a worse way to be punished. He kept his Father’s secret for most of his life. That was until one fateful day on his eighteenth birthday no lie.

Now, that he looks back on it - Adrian found it to be a gift. At least from the repercussions of it. Mr. Sarto had veered way past his fighting days and obviously that left bitterness in the older male’s mouth. They were living on money that Adrian scraped up for rent month to month as he found himself being the breadwinner at times. Even involving himself in scamming the crowds of tourists that flocked to his hometown before he could even drive a car. It wasn’t something he had ever been proud of nor is but desperation, it’s a funny thing. Usually, it takes a state of emergency, to throw us into desperation. See? It's too bad it has to do that but human beings are so slothful in their mind that it takes an emergency. Nonetheless, with money problems on the rise and the elder’s self esteem quickly deteriorating he could only take his aggression and the sourness on the one person who was his scapegoat. Adrian should have fought back but being abused, his mindset was altered and poisoned. Of pain you could wish only one thing: that it should stop. That it would and usually the times he blacked out, that was the resolution. At least he wouldn’t be awake for the pain.

In turn only having to deal with what the morning brought in the healing process. But something within Mr. Sarto told him to not stop. Like a vow. Until the sounds of screaming filled their small two bedroom apartment by a set of new neighbors. When the police arrived, Adrian was on the verge of life and death. Hugging the fine line. There was blood all over the living room floor. But in this story though, luckily there was that light at the end of the tunnel. Mr. Sarto was charged with attempted murder and has been locked up ever since. Though aside from the scars, which he could deal with - the physical pain was the easy part. The emotional side on the other end was the most difficult and a lot more trickier. He’s plagued by nightmares like PTSD. Deep down, Adrian knows that they will never disappear. Just like some of his physical scars, he’s scarred past any flesh of skin he bares. Which in hindsight troubles him more and more as each day passes.

Fun Facts:

Adrian is mostly covered in tattoos. He had a lot of scars that internally he was self conscious about from the beatings. And he found healing in starting fresh and marking over those with new art. Art that brought him courage and his body was a canvas. He needed that clean slate.

He is a workaholic, well if you call it "work". His passion is cars and when he is not working on them he is always cruising. He does dabble in professional racing at a track not too far from his hometown.

Due to his past and fear of becoming like his Father when he drinks, he only drinks on occasion. And limits himself to 2 for the max. Not that he judges anyone that decides to enjoy themselves that way but it's a personal choice that suits him best.

[danmeiconfession]

I have to say, don't you guy find it very boring comparing SY to SJ.

They not even on the same wave length.

One is a rich young master from modern time who grow up with with a loving family plus its modern moral.

The other is an street rat in fantasy ancient China settings, who saw his big sister got sold to an old man, he himself got sold as slave, got abused daily. Even he thinks that his brother "betray him" and so on.

I found it kinda funny when fans say that he should have better.

Like honesty, he could have been much worse.

This always reminds me of the French revolution so some reason though.

It was when the nobles where healthy, full and rich and the commoner where poor, starving and dying . So they went to Marie-Antoinette

And she said : let them it cake.

And cake is more expensive than bread .

If it about the child abuse , I can understand. But sy is also guilty of it to.

I found it slightly weird that people just forgot the fact that sy attacked children with qi leaves . The modern equivalent is attacking secondary school children with throwing knifes.

He would have been arrested.

Then the next thing he did was baiting LQG to beat up children. I have seen people justify it by saying that it was teaching a lesson.

If sy was born and raised in ancient China, I would have understand but he a modern man. Godsake

He could have just ask LQG to control his desciple , and if he can't to that he could have just was YQY. They are many peaceful resolution for this problem . Or maybe have them repair the damages that they made.

Although all countries are different, but even my own country, which it very traditional and all , they most a punishment you can get is to have a flexible cane and be beaten on the hand (for girl) and the bum (for boys) . And even that is only 5 or less strokes .

The modern Times equivalent of what sy did is letting a world renowned WWE boxer deliberately fight a child.

.

[sweetracha]

Boxer! AU Storyboard

RACHA BOXING GYM: RESPECT, HONOR, DIGNITY

Thank you @kaciidubs for the idea!

Christopher "Bang Chan" Bahng came from a rough family from the wrong side of the tracks. He was a troubled kid who learned it was easier to pick fights rather than make amends. Always having to be on the defense can do a lot to a child and not having a safe place to go most nights meant Chris got into his fair share of trouble. When the owner of RACHA gym found a young Chris bloody and bruised sleeping behind his studio, he took him in. The man was the closest thing Christopher ever had to a father. He raised him in the studio and rewrote the whole world. Chris easily became the best fighter in the league. Every match he remembered the lessons his father figure had taught him; "Boys fight with anger, Men fight with dignity". This became the motto painted right above the door at what was now Chan's gym. He was heartbroken after the untimely death of his guidance, he took out all his anger on the punching bag that mocked him. Sadly, one missed swing landed Christopher's fist into the wall, shattering the bones in his hand. Unable to box Chan found another way to honor his father's legacy, he would run RACHA gym the way it was meant to be. Respect, Honor, and, Dignity.

Minho was an active child who tried every sport at least once, except one. He would beg his parents to let him box after seeing a movie his grandpa snuck in. Min would be told no over and over again. That didn't stop him, however, nor did it stop his grandpa. Every day after school when he would go to his grandfather's house, the two would watch old wrestling and boxing clips on black and white VHS. Minho loved it. He would go to bed and dream about his name in lights and fans cheering him on. Where his parents saw violence, he saw art. And where they saw brain-dead meatheads, Minho saw geniuses. He studied each play on a loop until he could accurately predict what came next. When other kids were out playing, he was calculating hitboxes and wingspan. He would tell you by one look if you were a swarmer, out-boxer, slugger, or box-puncher. At the age of 10, his grandfather enrolled him in private boxing lessons out of his garage and soon enough Minho was fighting in underground matches. Was it entirely legal? no. Was his grandpa and him making money off of his winning bets? hell yes. The original owner of RACHA Gym witnesses the illegal betting during a match between Minho and Chan. He agreed to not say anything under one condition, Lee Know would fight under the RACHA name. Years later, Lee Know has become one of the biggest names in boxing, fighting with his grandpa's name tattooed on his knuckles. He even has a student of his own, a popular boy named Hyunjin.

As soon as anyone saw him, they knew Changbin was a fighter. As soon as he was able to stand on his own two feet, he was in the ring. The Seo family was synonymous with the boxing world. With a legacy that large, disappointment was sure to follow. Binnie was a relatively scrawny child who hardly packed a punch. Thus Changbin was thrown out of the family light, favor was instead she'd on his brothers and cousins. He did everything in his power to gain the respect he could but he could see his light fading out. He put all his anger, frustration, and loneliness into boxing. When he wasn't at work he was at the RACHA gym, putting his life into the ring. Changbin and Chan grew up almost as brothers. They two protected each other and cared for one another. Where Chan showed Changbin's company, Binnie showed Christopher's strength. Before long Bin became the most feared fighter in the ring, known for swinging first and thinking second. However, the boys all know he is a softy at heart. He just doesn't hope the new kid, Seungmin, doesn't find out.

Hyunjin was as far as you could get from dirt and grime. He has never had to feel the grit rubbed into his wounds or a fist to an open jaw like so many others had. No, Jinnie was a pretty boy from a rich family. He only knew glitz and glamor. Where others built their paths, he was carried along his. That's what he disliked the most. He wasn't an individual, a personality, a body, or even a thought. Hyunjin was an image, a figurehead, a puppet to be played for the entertainment of other rich snobs. He wanted more out of his life, he was filled with rage and no outlet. His blow-up was a public affair. Hyunjin didn't mean to beat the living hell out of his brother-in-law but if you push one too many buttons, something is bound to happen. However, sometimes curses can become blessings, especially if the new owner of an award-winning boxing studio catches wind of your actions. Chan brought in the ball of fire much to the complaints of the other boys. They hated how he got to walk in and be a fighter. But then Hyunjin lost match, after match, after match. Soon enough that ego whittled down. Hyunjin learned this was an art rather than an impulse. Adrenalin only gets you so far. It usually winds you up in the medic chair being worked on by the sweet young nursing student. It also makes you look into the disappointed eyes of your master, Minho.

Han was not a name anyone knew in boxing. J-one was barely even remembered past amateur matches. He was decent, maybe even a little more than that. Han has the techniques, the skills, the body, and even the support. What he lacked was the motivation. There was no drive for Jisung to fight, he didn't see the point. Chan was his best friend, the two did everything together. Han followed Chan like his personal cheerleader and in return Chan kept him safe. Jisung was easily the butt of everyone's aggression. He was small and lacked a bite. Chan thought he knew what he was doing when he enrolled his best friend at the studio. How could Han say no when Christopher had done so much for him? When Han began to lose his matches, Chan was convinced it was because the boy needed to work harder, so he pushed. This put a tear in their relationship. Han loved and hated Christopher at the same time, he couldn't see that he was treating Han the same way everyone else did. After a pretty brutal match was lost, small sniffles could be heard from the supplies room. Minho was shocked to see the crying boy behind some old equipment. That's when it all hit, Han was losing these matches on purpose. Minho wasn't the best at comfort but he tried. Chan's heart broke when he learned the news, immediately pulling Han's name from the roster. Han still hangs around the studio every day, helping out in little ways. He wants to support his friends, not fight them.

Felix was a medical student looking for some work after graduation. The hospital was great work and gave good pay but something about it didn't click for Felix. He had always been someone who made close attachments, too close some may say. He was an empath to the description. Seeing patients come and go, never being able to care for them in the personal way they needed hurt Felix. Not knowing if they were recovering well kept him up at night. He wanted to take care of people, not treat them. Felix managed to get some odd jobs here and there but his favorite was working for an old boxing master. The man would tell stories of his glory days and how he was to leave his studio to his only son. Felix cared for the man every day and soon the two gained a special bond. When he passed away, Felix cried for hours. He worried about Chan and how he was handling the loss. Lix walked in right as Christopher's hand met the stone wall. Nothing mattered more than Chan at that moment, as Felix began to care for him right away. Lix knew it was bad, that Chan would probably never fight again. Chris said the only thing that made him feel okay in that moment was the sunshine smile Felix gave him. The two knew they were connected for life now, they may have lost someone close to them, but they gained someone who would become even closer. Felix enjoyed being the medic around the studio. The pay was awful and the boys always smelled like they needed a shower a week ago. But that didn't matter to him, Felix had his boys to take care of.

Seungmin was the newest fighter for RACHA, finally graduating from Chan's apprenticeship. Eager was an understatement. Minnie wanted a piece of the action, he could taste competition on his tongue. His fingers twitched and he could never stay still. He wanted to prove himself, he needed to prove himself. Not to his family or friends, not even to a puppy dog crush. Rather he needed to prove it to himself. He needed to know he could stand on his own and be the best. He trained for this, he studied for this, he lived for this. Seungmin was so sure he was going to become Minho's student. The two fought in similar styles. Seungmin remembered skipping classes to watch his idol fight. He kept a journal of every one of Lee Know's matches, connecting the dots just like Minho had said to do in interviews. So when he walked in to see Hyunjin with Minho, he was confused. Who would be his master if it wasn't the infamous Lee Know? Enter Seo Changbin. Bin knew he wasn't Seungmin's first choice but Chan knew what he was doing. The fireball needed someone to tame him and the enthusiast needed someone to bring him to reality. Minnie may never admit it, but he is glad he had Changbin.

Jeongin was a newborn baby in the world of boxing. Once Seungmin had been promoted upwards, Chan needed a new apprentice. When Innie walked in looking for a summer activity, Christopher's heart melted. He saw in Jeongin what his master saw in him. Chan knew he could be that guidance for Jeongin. His boxing name came rather fast after the boys struggled to remember his actual name. Finally when looking at Felix's medical notes he saw the name I.N. and it stuck. While Jeongin appreciated having a place that kept him out of bad crowds, there was a lot less fighting than he would have liked. Instead, he was stuck watching and learning, feeling like he was in school all over again. Minho would teach him lessons in predictions and stats. Changbin was tasked with correcting the kid's form and stance. Chan taught him the values of boxing. Even Hyunjin and Seungmin stepped in to give their insights. Though most days dragged on, Innie always found himself coming back. Something about it all was so addicting. Chan could see the spark behind his eyes when he landed a hit just right or dodged one of Han's swings. Chan had decided that Jeongin would become his one and only student.

The Sweetest Batch: @goblinracha, @xx3rachaslutxx, @j-onedrabbles, @lixiesweetbrownie, @marrivmel,@lyramundana, @lixiestarryhallows, @raaaaaaahhhh

[lazzarella]

Back again with my Wandee Goodday weekly rambling! I will say that, while I'm still adoring it, the editing is starting to feel weird? Like, I know there's not a cut and an uncut version but sometimes it feels like it.

But! I'm also the kind of person who can nitpick something I love to death, so I'm not going to do that because I'm trying to ~ac-cen-tchu-ate the positive as Mr Mercer wrote. And, like, I'm just here to see two beautiful idiots fall in love XD Anyway! Here we go:

- Dee going straight for the necklace! XD

- HAND HOLDING SHOT!!! Will never get enough of those!

- Love that they don't talk >:) (No, really, I'm not being sarcastic lol I love it haha)

- Aww, I want to know what the souvenir is!!

- Love their apologies! I especially love that he said he'd have let Yak beat Ter up if he wasn't a doctor 🤣

- Seriously, though, his apology made sense! I'm totally extrapolating(?) here but I almost feel like he didn't know why he acted the way he did in the moment

- Okay, kissing only once is silly 🤣 but I'm here for silly! And he did say Yak has to learn to wait, which must mean he does plan on kissing him again. At some point. I can just FEEL Kao's long suffering BFF senses tingling however many apartments away haha

- (I weirdly love being frustrated by shows I love??? Just me??)

- Awww! Love the scene with Yak and Yei <33

- Dee didn't feed him?? Tut tut, doctor! Not taking proper care of your boxer guy

- "Let's pound" uh, sure... But right in front of everyone? 🤣

- Lmaooooo, Cher! I love him! Telling Dee the necklace suits him better haha. I love the way that he and Yei have just accepted Dee into the fold and omg they don't know it's "fake" do they??? I would love to see their reactions

- I loved the whole som tam scene

- Hm. I guess Taem *does* like Yak then? Not really keen on that, but I'll just go wherever the show takes me, IDC

- Yak getting horny watching the others get oil massages lmao love that they used that 'o yeah' sound bite

- (actually, there's a bit in one of the songs that sounds like part of O Yeah by Yello)

- but he got his oil massage!! Dee is doing a thorough job

- Ahhh, Yak asking Yei about the consequences of him losing the fight!!! He looks so young there D: and I'm glad Dee asked some stuff, too!

- Okay, but what is UP with the Nazgûl dude???

- Dee knows Yak's lying!!

- ...wait, how does Dee know about the hallucinations to tell Kao? (Is it really a hallucination when you're asleep? Is that not just a dream? I'm guessing this is a translation thing though) Like, I can infer Yak told him at some point, but it feels like a weird choice to not show that. Whatever, I'm not going to think too hard about it

- Boo, Ter!!

- "No because I must bring my special someone" is the best response to Kwan asking if Dee was asking Ter out! Lmaooo (I paraphrased a bit I think)

- Okay, it's so funny that Dee knows Yak is his special someone and that's why he's asking him, and he's happy to let Kwan and Ter and whoever assume that, but he won't tell Yak 🤣

- "Just one more time" ??? One more time for what? Maybe I should stop watching this when it drops because I'm always half asleep by then lol

- Whatever Yak says about it would be nice to have someone cook for him every day and Dee's desperate 'oh pleeeease let it be meeeee' kinda look lol

- Costume time!!! They looked soooo good in the first ones (I don't know if they're specific characters or just traditional)

- I love how grandma describes dancing but I didn't note it down. Oops! It was lovely, though! And very true—you have to be in sync with your dance partner and you have to give and take equally, otherwise it's not going to work and you may hurt yourself or the other person

- Lmao, they're still pretending! So silly after the kiss and I LOVE IT! XD this is what happens when you don't talk. Please keep it up! lolll

- Tbh, I think Dee's equally afraid if he tells Yak how he feels he'll disappear now (he probably has abandonment issues, I get it! He said that thing about presents making him feel like he hadn't been forgotten about a child, so yeah...)

- Product placement time! There hasn't been much though

- Ooh, they're gonna get married :D

- Aww, that was a really sweet proposal!

- Thor is so much bigger than Fluke... Just needed to make a note of that lol

- More product placement!

- Dee! How are you going to feed your boxer man every day when you only have neatly arranged cartons of soy milk and a bowl of apples in your fridge??

- YAY ANOTHER HAIR DRYING SCENE!!! But this time with a hairdryer!!

- I knew Taem would be the reason Yak wasn't at the ball in the previews!

- gee, there aren't many people at the ball

- FUCK. OFF. TER!!

- Yak is going to rock up at the very last second...

- ngl, I thought Taem was into Ohm as well!

- Just say no, Dee! Just say no!

- I mean, that's a pretty good speech, pity who it's coming from lol

- Phew! He pushed him away! I knew he would, but still

- Yesssss! I actually fist pumped at Dee telling Ter he wouldn't be a good dance partner and that HE'S TOO VANILLA bahahahaha

- He was very gracious about it, too, which makes it even better

- Ooh, Ter's crying! Tbh, I'd feel bad for him if he wasn't a manipulative jerk XD he cries pretty, though

- Poor Dr Kwan!

- Dee waiting for Yak is breaking my heart!! Come onnnnn, Yak!

- YES!!! THERE HE IS! Cinderelly, you shall go to the ball! (IDK...)

- "My prince!" (x 2) Ahhhhhh!!!!!!! MY HEART!

- This is the most awkward dance routine lmao I kinda love it

- Ooh! Slow dance time!

- I THINK I LOVE YOU!

- (So what am I so afraid of, I'm afraid that there's no cure for, a love that I'm not sure of... Uh, ahem, where was I?)

- I think my whole heart leapt into my throat!! That was NOT what I was expecting at all and ahhhhhhhhh it was perfect! And Dee's happy little face!!!!! He's so amazed and happy and ahhhhh I don't want to wait seven days to see what happens next!!

-Also was that a new sing playing in that scene or something that already exists? Kinda sounded like Inn singing but idk

- Okay, but I am SO here for Yak trying to woo Dee next week lol like, he so doesn't have to, but I would definitely want to let the handsome man woo me for a little while too XD

- (I bet when Dee says enough and Yak's little face drops, it's going to be when he says the thing about loving Yak for who he is maybe, but IDK, I could be very wrong)

- Anyway. I THINK I LOVE YOU! Yesssss! Yak was so brave!! <333

[ledenews]

(Publisher’s Note: This is the tenth chapter of series of short historical stories that focus on the history of organized crime in Wheeling. A number of eyewitnesses have offered their memories, and interviews were conducted with them and with federal and local officials, including former FBI agent Tom Burgoyne before his passing on January 26, 2023.) WARNING: Profane language appears in the following article. 10 Dickie and The Mahoff His name was Gerry Cooney and he was a pro boxer out of Long Island, New York, who became known as one of the hardest-hitting heavyweight fighters in all the world. He was blue collar and he was Irish Catholic, and Cooney was 55-3 as an amateur Gold Glove champ through the early to mid-1970s. Cooney was a big man, too, standing at 6-foot-6, and once he turned pro in 1977, he attracted the attention of boxing’s super promoter Don King. Soon after Cooney defeated Ken Norton in 1981 by way of knockout only 54 second into the first round, and he then waited more than a year for his chance at the champ, Larry Holmes. And finally, on June 11, 1982, King delivered and labeled Cooey the “Great White Hope.” The bout was scheduled for 15 rounds at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas, and the purse was $10,000,000. Holmes knocked down Cooney in the second round, but the challenger got up and survived until he was defeated by technical knockout in the 13th. Cooney had bloodied Holmes and swelled his eyes, but at the end of the evening, the champ was still the champ. Although “Gentleman” George Cooney was a southpaw, he fought Holmes as a right-hander because many boxing experts believed lefties had too many open targets for those fighting in an orthodox style. That’s what Dick Flanagan’s father told his son, too, but “Dickie” was a tough-kid scrapper from Rose Hill in Bellaire, Ohio, and he wanted to become the sport’s next great Irish boxer. “I knew a few of the guys who were involved with local boxing back when I was around 16, and I wanted to be a boxer when I was young. But my dad didn’t think it was good idea because I’m left-handed,” Flanagan said. “I thought I was tougher than that, so I didn’t give a shit what my old man thought back then. I knew it all back then, ya know? “So, I heard about a place on Wheeling Island where they boxed, and there was a guy named ‘Big Joe’ who was training guys there. Turned out, ‘Big Joe’ was Joe Mucheck, one of Paul Hankish’s inner circle guys, and he took a liking to me,” he said. “I do remember when my dad found out I was going to the gym on Wheeling Island, and when I got home he said, ‘You wanna be a tough guy?’ and then he put a whipping on me. That was the end of my boxing career.” Boxing wasn't the career Flanagan's father wanted for his young son, and that's why he opposed Dickie's decisions in the mid-1980s. Instead, Flanagan went to work for “Big Joe” as security in a few bars in and around Wheeling, and those positions eventually attracted attention from the man at the top. Most people, back then and especially today, knew the mob boss by his formal name, Paul Nathanial Hankish, but Mucheck introduced the kingpin to Flanagan as the “Big Mahoff.” It was a term, Flanagan was told back then, that was most used on the streets of Philadelphia when referring to an important person, and it stuck with him then and through the years. “Back then, I was bouncing in the bars when I first came home from my four years in the Navy, and eventually I ended up with the bricklayers as an apprentice. But I went to work one time in one of those blast furnaces in a steel mill, and I knew then I didn’t want to do that shit,” he insisted. “So, I went to the laborers local and that was OK because I started learning how to be the business agent. “But ‘Big Joe’ came up to me one night when I was bouncing for him and he told me it looked like I knew what I was doing and he told me that’s why I was working at Hankish’s bar,” Flanagan remembered. “And then one day, ‘Big Joe’ told me the Mahoff needed a driver. That’s what the guys in the inner circle used to call Paul – the Mahoff – and I was told to call him that, too.” The majority of these buildings are no longer standing in the city's downtown, but when the Mob ruled Wheeling, they were very busy with customers on a daily business. (Photo archived by the Ohio County Public Library) In All Directions When most people in the Upper Ohio Valley hear the name Dick “Dickie” Flanagan, they immediately relate it to the hard-core member of law enforcement who retired as the chief of the Bellaire Police Department about two years after spending more than 30 years fighting crime in several communities in East Ohio. But 40 years ago, after he was graduated from Bellaire High in 1979, he worked odd jobs before enlisting for four years in the U.S. Navy. “The military didn’t stick, though,” he admitted. “I decided it wasn’t for me, and I came home, but back in the 1980s was when the good jobs were starting to dry up and you had to know someone. So, I tried the unions, and then ‘Big Joe’ told me about the Mahoff, and he set it up. “I met with Paul and we bullshitted for a bit, and I think that’s when I realized how intelligent the man was. I never thought for a minute that he was dumb or stupid, but we talked for a while and I could tell he was articulate when discussing his business and how he went about it,” Flanagan said. “He told me what he thought I needed to know.” Hankish had been in need of a driver after losing his legs in an explosion in January 1964. The incident was deemed an assassination attempt and “Big Bill” Lias was questioned by authorities, but no arrests have ever been made in the case. Ernie's Esquire operated along East Bethlehem Blvd. for several years, and it's the Char House that's there now. “When the Mahoff would call, he would tell me certain things that meant nothing about what he wanted because he had this code he’d tell you about. If he said we were going for a ride, that meant we were going somewhere like Pittsburgh or Steubenville. Before me, there was Dave Talbert, but the Mahoff told ‘Big Joe’ it was time for a change. That was me. I was the change. “Other guys had nicknames, too, like Paul’s brother Phillip as ‘Sunshine’ and Mucheck was ‘Big Joe.’ And, yeah, Paul was the ‘Mahoff’ because he was the boss. I mean, you didn’t dare refer to him as ‘No Legs’, that’s for sure. That never turned out good for the person who would, I can tell you that,” Flanagan said. You never got Paul’s nickname wrong. He was the ‘Big Mahoff and everyone knew it. “It was that, or you called him ‘Boss’,” he said. “And he was the boss, that was for sure.” During his brief tenure connected to the Wheeling’s underworld, Flanagan quickly developed an understanding for how organized crime worked. “If you owed, you owed and you better pay. It can’t get any easier to understand, and if you didn’t pay, then you got what was coming to ya,” he recalled. “But I also know of some incidences when guys would go in the bars and gamble away their whole paychecks and their wives would come in. That would get back to Paul and that’s when Paul would send someone with envelope, and there was money in there. “They’d give the money to the wife and tell the husband to knock off the bullshit and that they’re no longer welcome there,” he said. “He told them to take care of their families and to stay away. The guys who didn’t listen to him sure wished they would have, I’ll tell you that.” The driver and the “Big Mahoff” got to know each other, too, and while there exist very few facts on file about the friendships owned by the mob boss, Flanagan has memories of moments when the two would exchange barbs back and forth. “We did get familiar enough with each other that we started fucking with each other and I remember ‘Big Joe’ asking me if I was crazy for messing with the Mahoff so much. I told him to relax because we had that back-and-forth and that it was funny,” he said. “Ya know, when you drove for the guy, he never told you where you were going. It was like he was protecting you or something. "Big Bill" Lias was "Boss" of organized crime in Wheeling for several decades before his death in 1970. “He never said we were driving to Cannonsburg or Washington; he’d just point and off we went,” he recalled. “Other times, we’d stay local, and I always had to have at least three rolls of quarters because Paul always used the payphones. He didn’t take any chances.” Bill Kolibash was the U.S. Attorney when a federal grand jury indicted Hankish and several others 218 times in early October 1989, and he remembers the payphones and the quarters, too. “As long as we investigated Hankish, we never found any proof that he had an office of any kind, and that’s why we expected to find what we needed during the raids on his two primary locations during the mid to late 1980s,” he explained. “Paul Hankish was transient when he was working. That’s why we’ve always heard the stories about the rolls of quarters that he always had because he was using payphones when he needed to make calls. “He would use different payphones, too, but they were always the phone booths with the closing doors,” recalled Kolibash, the U.S. Attorney from 1982-93 after joining the office as an assistant in 1973. “We couldn’t listen to his calls because he used payphones, but we could get the numbers he was calling. We didn’t get much from knowing the numbers, but it’s an example of the kind of resources we had back then.” To Flanagan, though, the use of payphones was just another example of how organized crime remained unaccountable for decades in the Wheeling area. Lias reined supreme as the boss over gambling, racketeering, and prostitution for a little more than 30 years before Hankish took over following his passing in June 1970. The Internal Revenue Service may have seized Wheeling Downs away from Lias for back taxes in 1955, but “Big Bill” remained relatively unscathed when it came to the laws and their enforcement. Hankish, however, had a rap sheet that dated back to the late 1959s. “Listen, the Mahoff might have been a no-good criminal, but if he liked you, he liked you, and I think he had some morals and scruples to him. That’s why he didn’t like to involve the kids in anything he did and why he had mercy on so many people who owed him big. And listen, when a truck with turkeys or hams or diapers got hijacked, he made sure he took care of the unwed mothers at the YWCA. “But if you crossed him, you had problems,” Flanagan said. “Big problems.” After he served as the driver for Hankish up until his trial in July 1990, Flanagan worked in the world of professional wrestling with Mark Kennan. Beyond the Headlines There were spot sheets in high schools, cocaine in night clubs, civic leaders employing professional gamblers, green doors and red lights glaring in Center and South Wheeling, and even a store filled with stolen merchandise with snipped labels and reduced price tags. While some referred to the Wheeling area as the “wild, wild Gateway to the West” because of the Suspension Bridge spanning the front channel of the Ohio River and the all-year open season on what many deemed the “Wheeling Feeling,” others – like Kolibash and his task force on organized crime – were determined to end the lawfulness pushed upon by people involved with the Hankish organization. But what about Flanagan? Back in the 1980s, he was a kid searching for his place in the professional world who still insists he was never compensated by his “Big Mahoff” for the driving services rendered. “As far as what our evidence showed, Dick Flanagan wasn’t breaking any laws by just driving Hankish where he needed to go, and if he didn’t get paid anything for being his driver, that doesn’t surprise me because we learned he paid people through doing them favors or by giving them some of the stolen merchandise that came in all of the time,” Kolibash said. “That’s why people really liked Ron’s Value Center. There was new stuff in those cases all the time, and it was cheap. “Plus, Talbert and Flanagan, they loved hanging out with those mob guys because it gave them prestige, I guess, and no one would mess with them,” the former federal prosecutor said. “People could turn (Hankish) down, too, and that didn’t seem to cause problems. But once you owed him, you owed him forever.” The federal courthouse in downtown Wheeling was much smaller during Kolibash's career than what it appears today. Until that is, Kolibash collapsed the rackets, the rings, and the houses of prostitution after a four-year investigation led to the prosector’s broadest RICO case of his career. The federal grand jury returned 218 indictments against 11 individuals, including 90 charges against Hankish alone. Two members of his gang, in fact, testified against him – Ron Asher told Judge Robert Merhige he was hired to kill, and Clark explained the organization’s drug trafficking business. But it wasn’t until the mob boss was informed during a break in his bench trial that his estranged wife, Patricia, was Kolibash’s next target when an ultimate decision was made. And Flanagan was present to hear it.   “I had driven Paul to the courthouse, and we were going up the elevator when his attorney told him that the government was going to talk about all of the drugs and that they were going to connect that stuff to his wife. That’s when Paul told him he needed to go cut him a deal. He said he was done. He wanted to protect his wife,” Flanagan said. “At first, after the attorney told him, he was quiet. And then he said, ‘That’s it. I’m done. “He told his attorney he wasn’t giving up no one either. He said he was pleading guilty to whatever so it could be over and Patty would be OK,” he said. “But they had to leave Patty alone.” With the decision made and the message on its way to Kolibash and his team, Flanagan was directed by his boss to one more destination. “After the Mahoff told his attorney to make the deal, he looked at me and told me we were going to lunch. So, we went to Ernie’s Esquire again,” he said. “We went in and sat in the same booth he always sat in, and when the waitress asked Paul how he was, he said he was just fine. Now, he knew he was going to prison for a long time, but at that moment, he said he was OK. And I think he really was OK. “He told me to order whatever I wanted so I ordered the blackened swordfish because I’d never had it before and because it was the cheapest thing on the menu, but I knew he was going away. I knew it back in the elevator, but I just think he realized he wasn’t getting away with everything forever. I think he knew it was going to catch up with him someday ... and that was the day.” The Ohio County Public Library has digitized the local newspapers, and that means historic news reports like Hankish's plea agreement can be reviewed online. The food came and the two talked. There were no attorneys, no enforcers like Jesse Anderson or Jimmy Griffin, and no other henchmen either. “Busy talk” was how it was explained by the driver, and, at one point, Flanagan’s future became a topic. “When we were sitting there, out of nowhere he said, ‘What do you think you’ll do next? Because you can’t make a living being a bouncer at a bar’. He told me the only way to make any money from a bar was to own the bar, and he was right, of course,” Flanagan said. “That’s when I told him I thought I would go into law enforcement. “Paul told me that if I was going to be a cop, I’d better be a good cop. He said that anyone could be a fuckin’ dirty cop, and he was looking at me dead in the eyes, too,” he remembered. “I thought he might have said I was crazy for thinking about being a cop with everything considered, but he gave me that advice instead.” Hankish’s wife was the only individual acquitted in the July 1990 trial, the “Big Mahoff” pleaded guilty to nine charges and was sentenced to 33 years in prison, and he passed away in the federal prison in Petersburg, Va., at the age of 66 from kidney failure on May 11, 1998. And Dickie Flanagan took Hankish’s advice. He began his career in Bridgeport and worked in Martins Ferry, too, but it was the “Great American Town” of Bellaire that motivated him the most, especially once Flanagan’s concentration focused on drug trafficking. That’s why he helped start the Belmont County Drug Task Force, and was deputized by the federal Drug Enforcement Administration and by the US Alcohol Tobacco & Firearms. Flanagan also served with the South Eastern Narcotics Task Force and the U.S. Marshals Mountain Fugitive Task Force, but, without any fanfare, Flanagan retired unannounced during a Bellaire Council meeting on March 16, 2023. “I didn’t want a cake or anything like that, trust me. I had just made the decision that the time had come; that I had enough,” Flanagan added. “And people can say whatever they want, I know I did my thing, I did some good, and I did it the right way, and I had a good, run, too. “I guess I did take the Mahoff’s advice.” Read the full article

[raytorosguitarstrap]

Hi!

I saw that ask game in your pinned

And

Js pretend this is all of the numbers except the nsfw ones and the ones you're not comfy answering

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, I GOT SIDETRACKED AND WHEN I WENT TO GO CONTINUE ALL OF MY PROGRESS WAS. GONE.

0. 5'3

2. 7 in women's (USA size(

3. Nope!! Don't like the smell of it and also I need my lungs 2 be as healthy as possible cuz I'm training 2 b a boxer

4. No but I've tried alcohol on accident and I HATED it.

5. Ibuprofen counts as a drug technically... I only use it 4 cramps tho

6. 15😭

7. Nope, just use the temp ones!!

8.YES!!! I want small little cameos 2 my fave characters!! (Freddy's iconic glove, well. 4 Freddy. A deck of cards maybe 4 theodore? A bass or 'planet pisch' 4 murderface, u get the idea)

9. Yep!!! I have both my ear lobes pierced.

10. I want ANGEL FANGZ!!!!

11. Oof, I don't have any friends at all even😭

12. Single.

15. i HAVE MULTIPLE. Rocky IV, nightmare on elm street, hellraiser, avatar (pandora one), haunted mansion, The dark knight and many more I can't name off the top of my head!! (Mainly slasher/horror ones)

16.(idk if this counts as platonic or whtever), IF U LET ME RANT ABT MY HYPERFIXATIONS/HEADCANONS/FAVE MOVIES/OCS/AND RANDOM STUFF‼️‼️‼️‼️

18.Okay so one time my parents were fighting (not unusual they fight all the time), but it got super heated and my dad started to get physical with my mother. I obv wanted him to stop so I intervened(I was v young at the time), and he punched me instead and gave me a black eye

19. I'm very loud and cringey unintentionally(Its the tism I promise I don't mean 2 b lime that)

22. Plan A: Horror movie director/actor/produce/etc. plan B: Boxer. Plan C: Artist

23. I have a sister that's like 30. Our relationship is alr, sometimes she buys me stuff that I want without me asking her(which is super sweet but she does it too much).

24. Complicated. (Will not elaborate)

25. Driving past/parked next to a cemetery while listening to misfits and mcr while talking abt horror movies and headcanons/ going shopping at Spencer's and or hot topic!

26. When people specifically eat with their mouths open and VERY LOUDLY.

29. To not get cps called on my parents 😭

30. Sometimes it's too quiet, and I hear my own breathing and heart beating and it makes me feel. Funny. (/neg).

32. "We need to talk" "that's so weird" "damn u look like a blobfish" (last one sounds stupid, but it sounds so mean and makes me very uncomfortable and upset when someone tells it to my face😭😭)

33. "You look so pretty!!" "Can you tell me more? I'd like to listen!" "You're artsyle is pretty!"

34. THEIR WOMEN.

36. Waaaaay up in the forest. All alone. In my little cabin. Just staying there for eternity. Peaceful sounds of birdys and animals :3

38. An artist

39. That one stranger things "chocolate pudding" ice cream they have at Walmart

40. Someone happy :)

41. Hanging out with William murderface and listening to him ramble abt his interests

42. A pack of cheeze-itz and coke

44. Whoever read all of that is scientifically proven to be awesome :3

[forensicated]

Dan Boxing: Episode 448

Gina has entered Dan for the South Eastern Boxing Tournament which he updates Will about during their shift. He also calls Gina 'Goldie' again. I bet he wouldn't dare to her face 😂😂

Will is immediately telling him he can't do it because of the steroids and - because he's doing it on steroids - it's not a 'real win'. Dan won't be drawn on it and he walks off to tell Terry about their shout. The owner - a former boxer - of a smashed up cafe tells them it was bikers but a waitress got them aside to tell them it was kids. "Let me get this straight, you've got a former boxer being intimidated by a 14 year old and his mates?" Terry asks sarcastically - Dan and Will realise something isn't quite as it seems...

Gina saw him fight when he was younger 'a run of the mill scrapper, nothing special' and she goes with Terry. Robbie - the owner - won't admit that it's children so Gina gets straight to the point - "Lost your bottle again, Robbie?" She tells Terry that he threw his last fight, Robbie insists he tripped "Tripped my arse! You threw yourself onto the deck! I was there, I lost money on you!" They sit outside and observe a young lad approaching the cafe where Robbie comes out to meet him with a brown envelope of cash. Terry muses if it could be a protection racket as he recognises the kid as the little brother (really the mans son but shush!) and also the nephew of 2 known villains the super has asked him to keep an eye on. "It's a greasy spoon and he's a little kid! Look at the size of him!" They go over to ask him and he tells him it's a business transaction....they arrest him when he won't be drawn further.

Terry and the Super suspect that the kid is involved in a protection racket. When Robbie won't be drawn in interview, Gina points out that handing £300 to a child looks dodgy... he quickly confesses that he was late on a payment - hence the attack on the cafe that morning - and admits that he's paying someone via the kid - but claims it's security rather than protection. Taylor and his 'appropriate adult' his dodgy uncle insist it's simply a payment for security. He insists he's using his nephew simply so he can earn some cash and 'train up' for a full time job in the company. Terry, Gina and Heaton are aware of the obvious. The kids are dispensable, less likely to do time if caught, less likely to be stopped and suspected of carrying the cash and there's always a ready supply of others. Plus it keeps the dodgy uncles hands clean!

Dan joins Terry on an obbo at the 'security offices' a little later and struggles having enough hands to keep eating and take pictures, poor love!

Terry updates Gina that Robbie has turned up at the office with some friends mob handed to 'take revenge' on them for blackmailing him into paying. Dan and Terry run in with backup arriving soon after and arrest as many of the group as they can - only to find the 14 year old unconscious with a head injury. Luckily they get him to the hospital and all is well... only for the kid to be told his brother is actually his father. Quite some Jeremy Kyle stuff!

😍 Ahem...