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forevercloudnine · 4 years ago

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pre-new 52 scarebat ship meme

(I actually have no idea what to call this period of comics. The dc wiki calls this the “New Earth” universe... it’s like, everything after Jason Todd was retconned out of being a circus acrobat up to Flashpoint. Anyway like a month ago I asked @heroes-etc to send me questions for this version of scarebat from this ship meme but then forgot that I did it because I got distracted by other ships. Sorry Jonathan...)

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Bruce does DO physical affection — I mean, how many comic panels do we even have of him making out with Catwoman on rooftops — but he’s not especially forthcoming with it. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that his love interests are more likely to instigate contact than he is, especially when that love interest is a villain like Selina or Talia (can you even IMAGINE him trying to take them off guard in a fight by grabbing their face for a kiss? Because I cannot).

He does occasionally instigate affection with his children/proteges, though usually it’s in instances where they obviously need comfort. Bruce isn’t always great at handling complicated emotional situations, but grief and trauma is something he understands very intimately, and he never hesitates to physically reassure people who are in that kind of pain.

In situations where someone isn’t in the active process of being traumatized, he’s less forward with physical affection. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll reject it if it’s instigated — depending on who you are, of course. I’m guessing he wouldn’t put up with hugs from random members of the Justice League. Superman is his best friend and he would probably try to wiggle out of 90% of Kal hugs if doing so was physically possible. Most of his loved ones don’t really spring physical affection on him unless they need it or it’s an especially emotional moment, however. It’s not really Bruce’s primary love language.

Jonathan seems even less physically affectionate than Bruce, though obviously doesn’t have a lot of opportunity to demonstrate how he feels either way. Master of Fear offers the only example of him expressing explicitly romantic affection that I know of (unless you count his terrorizing Becky Albright in New Year’s Evil as physical affection, which... might be how he’s thinking of it...?), and it’s entirely instigated by Sherry Squire. He does ask her to the Halloween party, but she’s the one who takes him down to the furnace room for some “one-on-one” time and tells him to kiss her.

He also notably does not actually get a chance to kiss her, mainly because the whole thing was a prank meant to humiliate him. This might be why he doesn’t try to instigate anything similar with his next crush, Dr. Linda Friitawa (again, unless you count Becky Albright, but I can’t find New Year’s Evil to read anywhere so my only knowledge of his interaction with her comes from Tumblr. I’m like 80% sure he was supposed to be interested in her romantically, but asking someone to do supervillainy with you isn’t the most direct way to express attraction, so I’m taking that as more obliqueness from Jonathan).

He never expresses any direct romantic interest in Linda, but at the very least he clearly cares about her more than he cares for most people, since he, like. Defends her in conversation and apologizes to her for things that aren’t even his fault. Which means a lot, coming from a sociopath with no regard for human life. They do hold hands at one point, but Linda reaches out to him first, and he waits to see if she’s going to back away from his reciprocated touch before he reaches for her other hand.

He never instigates anything further with her, possibly out of fear of rejection. Unfortunately, it turns out that this was a good call, because Linda was only pretending to be nice to him while Penguin was paying her to experiment on Jonathan without his knowledge. When Batman figures out what they’re doing, she immediately fucks off and starts dating Black Mask.

Even more unfortunately, his 45 seconds of hand holding with Backstabby McMad Scientist is probably the only mutual physical affection Jonathan has ever experienced in his entire life, so honestly I have no idea if he would be more into it as a concept if it was offered to him more often. He’s clearly willing to return physical contact when it’s initiated by someone else, so maybe it is something he would seek out in an actual relationship? He DOES get handsy with Bruce when he has Batman tied up sometimes.

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

Trip out on fear toxin, both of them, hands down. There are few things more embarrassing than, as Jonathan aptly describes it, being “reduced to whimpering quivers” in front of your enemy. Especially an enemy who’s presumably jotting down notes on your worst fears, since Batman/Scarecrow fights tend to just be competitions in who’s more frightening.

11. What do they hide from one another?

I mean, obligatory mention of the fact that Bruce hides things from absolutely everyone (with the possible exception of Alfred, because Bruce trusts him as completely as he is capable of trusting anyone, and also because it’s really hard to hide things from a parent whose involved in every aspect of your life and already knew you before you developed your pathological need to obfuscate your feelings and intentions).

As Wonder Woman pretty aptly describes during the Tower of Babel arc, even Bruce’s closest allies are never going to hear the full story from him. So it’s deeply unlikely he’d ever be 100% truthful with a supervillain, even if they got close AND Jonathan reformed.

But it’s notable that Jonathan’s fear toxin has actually given him a more honest look into Bruce’s psyche than he would ever purposefully give to people who aren’t close family members. And by “close family members” I again pretty much just mean Alfred. Unfortunately for Bruce, nothing forces emotional transparency like mind altering drugs. Fortunately for Jonathan, nothing forces emotional transparency like mind altering drugs! Not that I’m recommending that anyone drug a romantic partner into being honest with them. But Jonathan is a trained psychiatrist, so I assume his psychological know-how combined with insights gleaned from the dozens of “sessions” he’s had with Batman in the past would leave him more prepared than most to decipher the mystery that is Bruce Wayne. (@heroes-etc: riddler is SEETHING.)

Jonathan meanwhile is more than capable of putting together a clandestine scheme, but in respect to himself he’s actually pretty straightforward. Though his driving motivation in this continuity gets more and more complicated over time, from the early 90’s “I just like fear” to the early 2000’s “my Granny tortured me with birds when I was a child and now I’m obsessed with inspiring the same fear and submission she forced on me onto others,” what doesn’t change is his willingness to monologue about it to anyone who’s listening.

Also, anything that Jonathan is unable or unwilling to go into detail on, Bruce is more than capable of puzzling out himself. In Scarecrow: Year One he successfully tracks down Jonathan’s old home to recover and read through Granny Keeney’s diary, and after Scarecrow’s Master of Fear origin was published, it’s clear that Bruce has done his research on Jonathan’s childhood. There’s even a (presumably unintentionally) hilarious scene where Bruce pauses mid-rescue of a man that Jonathan has kidnapped and traumatized with fear toxin to lecture him on having bullied Jon in high school.

Is this really the time, Bruce???

(@heroes-etc: oh 100% he nailed that timing.)

13. When do they realise they should get together?

Well, circling back to Tower of Babel, it’s revealed when Ra’s al Ghul has Talia steal Bruce’s contingency plans for defeating the Justice League that Bruce has “borrowed” Scarecrow’s fear toxin in case he has to take down Aquaman.

This was back when Scarecrow had a number of different toxins that induced different phobias, or made people hallucinate hyper-specific nightmare scenarios (such as “being eaten alive by roaches from the inside,” for some terrible reason). Batman notes in his contingency files that Scarecrow has already done the work for him; presumably Jonathan had already designed a formula to induce hydrophobia, so all Bruce had to do was steal a vial of it from a crime scene.

(The sentence “Why not make him incapacitate himself... perhaps through fear?” alone is like 90% of why I think these men would get along like burlap on fire if they ever actually cooperated on something. Also, unrelated, but the polaroid of Jonathan he has in the Aquaman file is weirdly adorable.)

Bruce’s plan for Arthur is incredibly effective, and notably also Bruce’s only contingency that isn’t either inherently lethal or a ruthlessly sociopathic betrayal of emotional vulnerabilities that had been revealed to him in trust and friendship (RIP Kyle Rayner).

(Notably, Bruce’s plans for Kyle and several other leaguers directly involve using their worst fears against them, even without a fear toxin conveniently tailored for this purpose. Bruce just really likes using fear as a weapon against people.)

After Tower of Babel, Bruce obviously needed to create new contingencies, since the whole point is that they were secret plans that no one could see coming. In canon, Bruce goes on to create the A.I. satellite Brother Eye for this purpose (which backfires even worse than his first set of contingency plans, because of course it does). But I think an interesting alternative could have been Bruce tapping Jonathan for more toxin strands tailored to taking down the Justice League. If Bruce Wayne offered to pay Scarecrow’s way out of Arkham in order to develop formulas that could neutralize the world’s most powerful superheroes, is there any way that Jonathan would turn him down? I mean, obviously he would plan on betraying Wayne at some point, and Bruce would similarly be working against Jonathan’s best interests. But maybe if they set aside their “who’s scarier” dick measuring contest to work together for once, they could come to recognize their shared passion: scaring the shit of people.

Also, the Jonathan in this continuity really likes books. And you know what’s a reliably sustainable source of books that can’t be confiscated by the authorities? Dating Bruce Wayne. The manor alone probably has an insane amount of rare books that have been hoarded by his family over the years. It’s like a weird reversal of the Beauty and the Beast, where the rude rich guy who gives a library to the love interest he may or may not have technically kidnapped is the pretty one.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

If they were dating, I’m guessing Jonathan wouldn’t want to go anywhere in public with Bruce at all. Bruce Wayne is a celebrity bachelor, and celebrity bachelors get a lot of attention, and people who take celebrity bachelors off the market get a lot of NEGATIVE attention. The public reaction to Bruce settling into a committed relationship with anyone would be the kind of weirdly resentful gossipy judgement that the girlfriends of famous princes or actors or musicians always get from tabloids and entertainment television, but in Jonathan’s case it would be a million times worse. Not just because he’s a supervillain, because if there’s any town that would expect its most eligible bachelor to eventually date a supervillain, it’s Gotham. But more specifically because “ugly social outcast” is one of Scarecrow’s most enduring character traits. Not exactly the traditional trophy wife. And though Jonathan’s Scarecrow identity seems to distance him from a lot of the shame he suffered growing up, I’m guessing that the kind of spiteful vitriol that would follow him anywhere he accompanied Bruce would at the least bring back some very unwanted memories.

Bruce probably doesn’t have the same discomfort Jonathan would with being seen together in public. He doesn’t care if people think Bruce Wayne is insane or lacking in judgement as long as they don’t think he’s Batman, and I’m sure he’d find a way to spin “dating a man who prefers to dress exclusively in burlap” into something appropriately characteristic of playboy idiocy. But while he'd definitely respect Jonathan's wishes to stay out of the public sphere, he would probably enjoy any opportunity to bring Scarecrow into Gotham high society, since his presence would definitely shake up a party, and Bruce is generally extremely bored at any social event where he doesn’t have anyone to snark with. And with Jonathan’s scathing wit as entertainment, Bruce might one day fulfill Alfred’s wish and actually make it through an intermission sometime.

I’d say that Bruce would be nervous about taking Jonathan out for “field research,” but I’m sure it would be one of Scarecrow’s requirements for any long term collaboration, so it’s something that he would have to get used to pretty quickly. He would probably endeavor to keep Jonathan away from anything that could retrigger his less healthy behaviors. On the other hand, it’s not like Bruce does that for himself, so it stands to reason that he probably wouldn’t be able to successfully control Jonathan in that regard either.

It doesn’t help that one of Jonathan’s primary motivations in villainy is his childhood, which is... exactly the same thing that Bruce is fixated on. A significant portion of Scarecrow: Year One is the two of them waxing poetic about how similar they are in this regard.

Relating to this, even though it might be a terrible idea, I don’t think Bruce would be able to resist encouraging Jonathan to reconnect with his mom. Bruce would never recommend for someone like Cassandra to seek out a relationship with her father, but if someone he cares about has a LIVING parent who WASN’T abusive to them? It seems unlikely that Bruce wouldn’t advocate for reconciliation. Jonathan’s dad obviously never cared about the teenage girl he knocked up or their bastard child, but Karen Keeney is a different story. DC Holiday Special ‘09 makes it clear that Jonathan was taken away from her against her will, and she’s spent a significant portion of her life wracked by guilt imagining what the woman who abused her was doing to her son.

Ultimately she attempts to commit suicide because she feels personally responsible for every terrible thing her son has ever done, which is tragic because really she’s the only member of the Keeney family completely blameless in the creation of the Scarecrow. In Scarecrow: Year One Jonathan clearly resents her for leaving him and moving on to have another baby that she actually did keep, which I would call a really paranoid case of jumping to conclusions if it didn’t seem extremely likely that Granny Keeney told him his mother didn’t want him and left him to be tortured on purpose.

(Side note, it is REALLY weird how young Karen Keeney is depicted in Scarecrow: Year One. At times her son looks older than she is, and it doesn’t help that her second born child is an infant for some reason. Even if Jonathan is only thirty years old here, then unless she had him at younger than fourteen, she should already be in her mid-forties. Why did she only have a second child so late in life? The implication with her abusive husband is that she ended up getting trapped in a bad relationship for survival when her family kicked her out as a teenager for disgracing the family by having Jonathan. It would make way more sense for her child with him to be at least in elementary school. Also the scene would have been way more interesting if Scarecrow’s sister was old enough to talk.)

Thankfully Deadman manages to convince Karen to hold on to life long enough for someone to call 911, and she ends up surviving the suicide attempt. But were Jonathan ever to reform, it seems like reconciliation would be really healthy for both of them, since miraculously Karen still seems to care about Jonathan despite everything he’s put her through, and they’re both clearly still suffering from the after effects of Mary Keeney’s abuse.

Bruce would be enthusiastic about this prospect for obvious reasons, although he would presumably still be nervous about the possibility of everything going terribly wrong. And even if everything went perfectly right, he would STILL be nervous, because everytime Jonathan goes to see his mother there’s a chance that she will mention the time that she kissed Batman full on the mouth. And that is not information you would ever want your psychologist boyfriend to know, unless you want to be mocked with Freudian buzzwords for the rest of your natural life.

(...This would also count as a thing that Bruce hides from Jonathan.)

#scarebat #jonathan crane #scarecrow #bruce wayne #batman #i just they're neat #it's all about those shared interests #and by shared interests i mean subjugating your enemies through fear #ship meme

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painted-crow · 4 years ago

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Did you model Bookkeeper Badger or Courtier Badger most of the time ?

In regards to the past tense you're using--it's the Badger primary model I dropped. Which, I've held on to some of its ideals, but they're just another part of my Bird primary system, and that feels very different.

My Badger secondary model is still good and kicking though!

I was just gonna write about how I use it (and how I try not to use it) to answer this ask, but then it turned into

Secondary Toast Revolving Door, Part 3

(Badger model edition)

and I'm just gonna roll with it.

I did have an unhealthy way I used my Badger secondary model that was... either extreme Bookkeeper, or it's actually been unhealthy Lion secondary all along and I've been mis-Sorting it and this is why the idea of using Lion secondary wigs me out a little. (It's fine when other people use it, but I find the prospect of using it myself at least slightly terrifying.)

Part of my problem is that I'm way too used to situations where pushing through despite feeling like I was about to collapse was the only option. It's probably got to do with... well, some childhood stuff I won't go into too deeply. My mom was in the hospital a lot. The school situation I was in just made everything worse. It's complicated.

Anyway, if I'm under stress, I dissociate out exhaustion, hunger, emotional distress, and even physical pain for hours or days at a time, and I can buckle down and hyperfocus on work (in what would be panic mode if I were more aware of my emotions during these periods). It sounds useful and badass but it really isn't.

Downside #1 is that I will eventually feel the effects of that panic, and any other needs I've been ignoring--it might be at a more convenient time, but those effects definitely won't be lessened.

Downside #2 is traumatic burnout. Do not try this at home. (I always hesitate to use the word "trauma" for my experiences, but the physical reaction I get to writing about some of this stuff says otherwise.)

Downside #3 is that I don't get to choose when my brain does or doesn't do this. It just happens when I'm under stress. I can't count how many times I've had an actual migraine and not noticed why I was so irritable for hours, when I could have taken something.

Downside #4 is that it works. This is possibly the worst one, because the phrase "do your best" takes on a cold sweat-inducing new meaning. My little "ability" has led to some absolutely buckwild performances under deadline, none of which I want to repeat, and I'm not sure I like knowing how much I can get done if I prioritize not failing over not burning out.

(On that note, if you thought my Badger primary model was Exploded last year, you should've seen it 3-4 years ago. I remember when this Kitten Witch post first went up, because I was like "...what? wait--")

In short, this is a very shitty superpower and I would like to re-roll.

I'm undecided whether this is a Badger flavored emergency mode, or the only Lion secondary I can recall using. I lean towards Badger because I have this pathological inability to half-ass anything, and it does not go away during emergencies. But it's possible that it felt Badger flavored because my unhealthy Badger primary model was egging it on with its self deprecating (...self dehumanizing?) exploded Badger crap.

So, wanna know how I got into these nasty deadline crunch situations where emergency hardcore Badger mode became "necessary"?

(I feel like I should reiterate my trigger warning on this series about now: we're talking about gifted kid burnout stuff and I'm about to sarcastically skewer some of my old thought processes here.)

Adequately warned? Great! Here are the step by step instructions to a real shitty time!

Take on a bunch of work while you're feeling okay, based on how much you think everyone else is doing.

Depression gets inevitably triggered somehow, by life stress or overwork or winter or whatever. Burn Bird secondary because that's been a stress response at least since high school.

Have absolutely no clue about the fact that your "limits" vary drastically and your productivity has huge peaks and valleys due to various forms of undiagnosed neurodivergence, which school/college is not designed to accommodate. So, rather than taking a rest and sorting out the stressful thing, get mad at yourself for "being lazy"!

Continue trying to work. Struggle wildly with executive dysfunction. Panic. Get frustrated and angry at yourself. It's cool, I'm sure this will make your Bird secondary start working again soon. (just kidding lol it's making it worse)

When you've aggravated your depression enough, shut down for a few months! Your work will still be there. Piling up. Taunting you. you're falling so far behind what are you doing everyone else can keep up except you

Get sick for a week. Feel relieved that at least now you have a legitimate excuse to not be working. This benefit may feel like it outweighs the symptoms of the flu or sinus infection or whatever you have.

Go into emergency hardcore mode, complete a ridiculous workload in the week before deadline, turn it all in, be almost too exhausted to feel guilty about doing everything last minute.

me: "I don't have ADHD! My focus is usually fine."

also me: this. ^ what is this.

So, I avoid that now. If I notice when Step 3 is happening and I can switch tasks--maybe clean my living space, do some laundry, get some good food, take care of tasks unrelated to whatever project it is that I'm too freaked out to work on--then Bird will be back in a week or two, assuming nothing else huge and stressful happens, and I'll have another productivity peak that'll let me catch up.

This is not the conventional wisdom. Conventional wisdom says you must never break momentum, you must schedule your work out 6 weeks ahead so you always know if you're on track, you must...!

Totally counterproductive for me. My brain is weird and did not come with a manual.

These days, on top of my Bird secondary, I model a mixture of Bookkeeper Badger and mirroring (a Courtier skill), for a number of purposes. I find work satisfying, I'm not afraid of long projects (that I choose), and that shifting, empathetic mirroring response is my default social mode.

But Badger's most important job is to gently take over when Bird is stressed out, and give it space to recover while methodically fixing anything about my situation that's not helping. It's good for that.

I prefer it to the alternative, anyway.

#sortinghatchats #secondary toast revolving door #hufflepuff secondary model #burned ravenclaw secondary #shc models #asks #paint speaks

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randomoranges · 3 years ago

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so this is the 3rd lyric from the song, but i’m trying to keep up with the fic-thing-whatever and ill get to the other parts later. the momentum is going and im trying to match it and such

lamao this reminds me of 2010 and when i wrote a chapter of a fic to match all of canadas medals. good times. that was - hard and a rush

also i made this into snippets of moments in the same day. to - make it shorter. even though it turned into an 8 page tiny monster lamao.

ANYWAYS

DO YOU LIKE SPORTS. DO YOU LIKE FEELS. DO YOU LIKE NEUROTIC SPORTS SUPERSTITIONS

well, you will be served

Rouge comme le sang qui nous coule à travers

July 5th 2021

When Edward woke up that morning, he expected to find Étienne curled up by his side and to splurge and indulge in some good morning cuddles. Instead, the spot besides him was empty and cold. He sighed to himself and after waiting for a bit, in case his boyfriend made a reappearance, he shuffled his way to the kitchen, where he might find him.

Truth to form, Étienne was there, already more or less dressed, drinking what couldn’t possibly be his first cup of coffee in the morning out of one of many Habs cups Edward had spotted in the last twenty or so hours.

“Morning!” Étienne sounded a tad too cheerful, but Edward ignored it and made his way to his boyfriend where he could properly snuggle and feel that blessed beard against his skin for a moment. Thankfully, Étienne was never one to deny any sort of physical touch and wrapped his arms around him, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

There was a reason as to why Edward had chosen this particular time to visit. For starters, he absolutely did not want to miss out on the beard and with the playoffs wrapping up shortly, he knew that his time was counted. On top of that, Edward knew how the people of Montréal took to the Habs losing this far into the playoff run and the down Étienne would feel if that happened.

It wasn’t that Étienne’s mood solely depended and fluctuated because of the hockey, but with so many people being emotionally vested in the team, their winning or losing would ultimately have an impact on Étienne. Now if they won, well, Edward wanted to live vicariously through it. Plus, there was something quite wonderful in an Étienne who was that jubilant and ecstatic. However, if the Habs lost, Edward wanted to be there for emotional support and also to make sure that the slump wouldn’t eventually tie in with one of Étienne’s own spectacular, unrelated to hockey, depressive episodes.

“Plans for the day?” He asked, perfectly comfortable in the crook of Étienne’s neck.

“Well, funny you should ask,” Étienne started and Edward had visions of intense biking up the mountain in the oppressive humidity or something as ridiculously insane, “I – have an errand to run, but I don’t want to impose on you.” For some reason, Étienne sounded a little nervous about this errand and Edward didn’t understand why.

“So? Go run your errand. I can come with you if you need help.” So long as it didn’t involve standing in the scorching heat, he was fine.

“No, no it’s fine! I appreciate you wanting to help – but, I don’t want to bother you, really.”

Edward stepped back and took a good look at his boyfriend’s face. Something was up.

It took him a moment, but then it clicked.

It had to be one of his ridiculous pre-game rituals he had completely forgotten about. He almost groaned. Étienne was anal about his rituals to bring the Habs good luck. Downright neurotic, really and Edward had been victim to many séances of Étienne doing the most ridiculous of things that he swore would help his team win. (To be honest, Edward did wonder, deep down, if maybe Étienne wasn’t on to something, considering the fact that the Habs had won 24 cups in their history, but he wasn’t about to say any of that out loud.)

“Do I want to know what crazy task you’re going to do?” He asked.

Étienne gave him another nervous smile and tugged on his beard, “It’s not that crazy, really...” He murmured and Edward feared for the worst.

“What is it this time? Putting your left sock on before you’re right one? Talking to your posters? Building a puck pyramid? Prepare a specific meal?”

“Please, that was last night and this morning. I need to go to the Oratory.”

Edward’s face blanched. Of course Étienne would go to the Oratory. He had forgotten all about it.

“You’re kidding.”

Étienne scoffed, “I am not kidding, Édouard. This is very serious. I need to make my pilgrimage to the Oratory, climb the steps on my knees and then light up a candle for the Habs’ victory tonight.”

Edward remained silent. He knew better than to argue or say anything about it. Étienne took his rituals very seriously.

“My issue is that you flew all the way to spend time with me and I don’t want you to think I’m just abandoning you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Edward said with a chuckle, as he finally decided to grab a mug that didn’t have a Habs banner, a players number or Youppi’s face on it, and poured himself some coffee, “You go do whatever it is you need to do and I’ll acquaint myself with your glorious pool.”

“Are you sure?” Étienne twirled the hem of his shirt around his thumb and followed after Edward when he headed for the table.

“More than sure. I don’t want to be held responsible for your team losing if you don’t complete your set of rituals. Plus, I’ll be fine here and I can spend more time with Mercury.”

“Sure?” Étienne asked again.

“Yes. I promise.” It wasn’t as if Étienne would be out for the entire day anyways.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!” Étienne was careful not to topple the coffee out of his hands, but still wrapped Edward in a tight hug.

In all honesty, Edward was a little overwhelmed to be sitting in the Bell Centre. There were so many people and so many lights that it was quite dizzying. After over a year of leading a quiet life at home, this felt like too much too soon, but at the same time, the energy was electrifying.

“Can you believe that the last time I was here for a final, you were also here?” Étienne said excitedly as they settled into their seats. It was crazy to think that Étienne looked tame in comparison to some other fans in the arena, even if he was wearing one of his many Habs jerseys, his Habs pants, his Habs shoes and most likely other articles of clothing he couldn’t see.

“Really?” Edward thought about it for a moment, “Shit, you’re right – so does that make me a lucky charm?” He joked, “Do you need to rub my head for good luck?” He laughed, but then when he saw the serious look on his boyfriend’s face he stopped. Étienne looked at him and seemed to be debating this for a moment. He had definitely shot himself in the foot with that idea.

“Better off not taking any chances,” Étienne said as he rubbed Edward’s head for good measure, much to Edward’s chagrin.

“Are you happy now?” He asked, when Étienne was done.

“Maybe. I would’ve been happier if you would have let me dress you for the occasion. You’ve got to be the only person here who’s not wearing something Habs on them.” He pouted.

Étienne had offered to lend him anything from a tank top to a signed jersey, with everything in between, but Edward had refused. For as much as he enjoyed being at the arena, there were still team loyalties he had to respect and that would be going too far.

“No I’m not, look, there’s a few people wearing Tampa jerseys.” He pointed out.

Étienne didn’t seem to think he was very funny, “That’s not the point, Édouard!”

“Fine, but look, I wore a white shirt – this is as far as I’ll go.” It was a neutral colour and – well, both of their teams had white somewhere in their jerseys.

“Tampa is playing in white.”

There was no winning this one.

“My jeans are blue and my blood is red?” He tried and he only got a death glare in response.

The one thing Edward had always loved about watching a game with Étienne, regardless of whether it was a season or playoff game, was that Étienne knew a lot about hockey – more precisely the Habs and he loved to share his knowledge – especially when he was stressed. (Not that Étienne ever admitted to being stressed about a game.) It was endearing the way he would blabber on and all Edward had to do was listen.

“This has been such a crazy playoff run,” He started, “Like – no one expected them to come this far and it’s been such a boost to the morale of the city. For as much as hockey has its issues, it also brings people together, and I wish there was more of that. Walking around the city these past few weeks has been something else. You meet people and hear their stories – about how they got into the game – where they’re coming from, who they’re here with. It’s beautiful. Kids who are living their first real playoff run. Older people who remember 93, 86 and the runs in the 60s and 70s. It’s been surreal! I’m just – I love these people – my people and the way they’ve just run with this as well. Hoisting orange cones as Cups and living the magic.”

“I know it might end tonight, but whatever happens – it’s been such a great run. I mean, obviously, it would be really great not to get swept. That would just – no. Do you know that the last time the Habs were swept in the final was in 1952? I don’t think the people would be able to handle that. You don’t make it to the final to get swept. Tampa can go and win at home, but to be swept?! No thanks.”

Edward knew all too well about being swept. At least the Habs had – avenged the Oilers. He supposed.

“And, also, on that note, do you know that the Habs only ever lost the cup once at home?”

“Did they now?” Out of their twenty-four that was quite the feat, really.

“Yes! And you’ll never believe what team did it!”

For some reason, Edward felt like he did know, yet the answer escaped him at the moment.

“The friggin Flames! I had to sit and watch Calvin’s stupid face light up like a goddamned Christmas tree when they won. I never thought I was going to live that one down!”

Now he remembered.

To be honest, he’d tried to forget.

It had been the most awkward of times, really.

For starters, Étienne had invited him to come watch the game with him. He’d agreed. If it meant spending more time with Étienne, he would’ve gone anywhere. Had gone to many places.

He’d just – forgotten one minor detail.

Calvin.

This was the second time, really, that the Habs and the Flames had met for the final. The first time had been awkward as well. In its own way. It wasn’t even with the fact that he was – involved with Étienne and Calvin was his friend and could not know about his involvement with Étienne.

It had – more to do with the fact that – the Flames had – impeded Gretzky and the Oilers from getting their third cup. He’d been – resentful to say the least.

Yet, Étienne had hesitated going out to Calgary to see them team, but then Calvin had asked him to convince Étienne to go. As a power move? To show off? He’d never bothered finding out. But, Edward had spun the idea to Étienne, telling him that wouldn’t it be nice to see the Habs extinguish the insufferable Flames at home?

Étienne had agreed.

They’d gone.

The Habs had won.

And Calvin – hadn’t even really cared.

His victory had been in beating the Oilers.

The bastard.

1989, however...

Shortly after Étienne had invited him, Calvin had reached out, saying that wouldn’t it be nice to go out and watch the game in Montreal. He had seats with the execs in their special section and they could make a whole trip out of it! Heck, the Flames might even win the cup! And – wouldn’t that be something! The Cup back in Alberta!

It had been very hard for Edward to tell Calvin that he already had Other Plans. Yet, without missing a beat, Calvin had told him that he should totally tell Étienne to come watch with them and that Edward didn’t need to worry about lodging, as they could share the hotel suite together.

He forgot exactly what he’d ended up telling both Calvin and Étienne, but somehow or other, the three of them had found themselves sitting in Calvin’s section, while Étienne had grumbled all along about having better seats than whatever this garbage was.

It only went from bad to worse as the Flames won and Calvin all but gloated, while Étienne threatened to set the city on fire. It wasn’t that Étienne had accused him of throwing him off, but Étienne had reminded him, more than once, that clearly, because he hadn’t been able to sit at his usual seat, the Habs had lost.

(Again, Étienne was anal about his superstitions and rituals.)

“Well, here’s hoping they don’t lose at home and get swept. Good vibes only,” Edward told his boyfriend before Étienne could get in a tizzy.

“Yes, you’re right. Anyways, it’s sort of thanks to the before last game against the Oilers we’re here anyways. Habs needed one point to assure their spot and that tie brought them to the playoffs, even if they lost in overtime. It made sure the Flames couldn’t sneak in, so, thanks? I guess?”

Edward chuckled remembering that particular video call.

“See, I told you, good luck charm.”

For good measure, Étienne rubbed his head again.

It was hard not to get wrapped up in the game, regardless of who was playing, even if it wasn’t his team. This was a playoff final game and both teams were trying their best to win. Even though the first ten minutes or so made it seem as though Tampa was going to finish this off without mercy, the Habs, somehow, managed to take the lead twice. Étienne kept on saying that some of the ghosts had clearly finally arrived and that some miracle had been cast on them by the three legends watching from the box.

Regardless of what it was that had brought the score to 2-2 with few minutes left, Étienne was clutching his arm like a lifeline and Edward was convinced there would be marks there when his boyfriend would let go.

“Please, please, please, please, PLEASE,” He chanted as the puck went one way and then the other. He clutched Edward’s arm even tighter whenever Tampa got close to scoring and whenever the Habs missed a shot.

It finally seemed as though the Cinderella run would come to the end with that last double penalty, which continued in over-time, yet somehow or other, the Habs managed to kill it and then, by another miracle, or maybe a clever game of pass-the-puck, managed to score in over-time.

Considering the fact that there were only three-thousand-five-hundred people in the Bell Centre, the resulting collective scream made it feel as though the place was packed to the brims.

Edward got swept up in the momentum of it all and found himself standing with all the other Habs fanatics, yelling and screaming.

When he turned to look at Étienne, his boyfriend looked jubilant and ecstatic. It was such a good look on him and it made Edward’s insides warm at the sight. Étienne deserved to feel this happy all the time, really. If there were a few tears at the corner of Étienne’s eyes, it only made him look lovelier and Edward did his best to school his face in the most platonic of smiles.

“They live!” Étienne yelled over the continued shouting, “They did it!” He said, even giddier as he kept on jumping up and down, waving his playoff flag with all the other people in the Bell Centre.

It was magical, really – living a playoff run like this one. He was glad he could be part of it – somehow, even if it was only for the last stretch of it.

“You know, no matter what happens next, I’m at peace. They fought and they’ve kept fighting from day one and – of course I want them to win. God, I want it so bad, but I’m just – really glad they brought it to game 5. And – I like to believe that – that they’ll be back. For game six. I’m just – I’m happy.” Étienne said, voice thick with emotions as they finally managed to step out of the Bell Centre. Some of the earlier euphoria and adrenaline had tempered down and Étienne was a little calmer by now.

“If any team can do it at this point, it’s certainly yours.”

Étienne beamed at him as they walked down the street, away from the crowds still chanting and yelling and celebrating, off the beaten path for a longer way home, if only for some fresh air and a quieter moment to re-center themselves.

“Yeah – you’re right,” He trailed off with a small smile. Étienne made to grab his hand, but knowing that there were still so many people out, he let their fingers brush against each other instead. “Everyone’s so happy – so proud of the city... I hope the feeling lasts.”

Edward made a quick grab for his hand and gave it a squeeze, before letting go. He wanted to tell him that the hockey didn’t matter. That this city was more than just a glorious hockey history. That he was proud of him. Of what he’d done. Everything he’d worked for outside of hockey. For himself. For the city as well. And that he had more worth than he realised. To him. To others. But – that was a talk for later. Right now, it was time to enjoy the moment – bask in it. Celebrate the victory.

“Let’s go home, yeah? I want to celebrate with you.”

Edward nodded and kept step with him as they made their way back to Étienne’s place, where once safely behind closed doors, they could properly celebrate together.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #projocanondoko #fic #shoutout to allbeendonebefore for giving me intel on how 86 and 89 woulda played out lamao #the things u realise yrs later once u have a stronger timeline ha ha ha ha

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tw-anchor · 4 years ago

Text

40. Unusual Halloween

Anchor Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x16; Illuminated

Word Count: 8,199

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, sex scene (18+ only!)

Author’s Note: Hey guys, sorry I haven’t updated lately. This has been the busiest--and worst--season of my life, so I haven’t felt up to writing much. Unfortunately, it will probably be a while until I update again because I’m starting my new job full time next week while going to school full time as well. Wish me luck! I hope you enjoy the chapter and please make sure to tell me what you think, reblog, and like!

"So, when did you get there?"

If Olivia had to stare at Agent Rafael McCall for another five minutes, she was gonna punch him in the face. She wouldn't be at fault, either; how could she be responsible for her actions when she just went through something as traumatic as a teenager could go through? A serial killer kidnapped her new friend and they all rescued her, but they were the ones being questioned? Where was the justice in the world?

Yeah, if she did end up punching Scott's dad in the face, she would totally blame it on her stressful night. It wasn't because she couldn't stand the smug son of a bitch; even if he wasn't a dick when they first crossed paths, she still wouldn't be able to tolerate him—especially because of what he was doing to Noah. And now, after he ushered in Olivia, Stiles, Scott, Kira, and Lydia into Noah's office, he was asking repetitive questions about their experience.

Hey, Olivia was all for justice and all that—but what exactly could the FBI do about a bunch of werewolves, a banshee, an anchor, and whatever the hell Kira was? Barrow was after kids with glowing eyes and as far as the up-tops were concerned, no such thing existed. They put Barrow in the Eichen House for a reason.

To put it simply, she was not in the best of moods. Kira was some kind of supernatural creature that could absorb electricity, Stiles and Scott were almost electrocuted to death by Barrow, and Isaac was at the Argents, his tether recovering from what had happened to him, even though she had no idea what that was. She did not want to be at the police station at midnight, squished into a small couch with Stiles, Scott, and Kira—Lydia was the lucky one with the armchair—while the jolly green giant questioned them.

To her left, Stiles responded, "At the same time."

"At the same time as who?"

"At the same time as me," Scott told his father.

"By coincidence?"

"What do you mean coincidence?"

Things were not helped when Stiles decided it was time to be a sarcastic little shit. It was well known that Stiles hated Agent McCall—she had heard many, many rants about his best friend's dad—so everyone knew what he was doing. Answering questions with questions, offering sarcastic quips that answered nothing, and silent smirks were what they've been having to deal with since their questioning started. Olivia loved Stiles Stilinski, she really did, but he was wasting their time, precious time where they could be sleeping. He really lived up to his mischievous name.

"That's what I'm asking you," Agent McCall gestured to Stiles and Scott. "The two of you arrived at the same time. Was that coincidence?"

Scott's face twisted in confusion. "Are you asking me?"

"I think he's asking me," Stiles mused.

"I think he's asking the both of you," Lydia said dryly, as annoyed with the boys' antics as Olivia was.

"Okay," Agent McCall interjected sternly. "Let me answer the questions."

Olivia rolled her eyes at him, completely unimpressed with his sense of professionalism, and glanced at Stiles. His lips were pursed ridiculously, like he was taking a selfie with the terribly cliché duck face; she had to admit, it did make her want to laugh, especially when she caught sight of Noah holding back his own laughter.

Seeing the amused faces staring back at him, Agent McCall realized his mistake. "Let me ask the questions," he corrected himself. "Just so I have this absolutely clear: Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira. Then Barrow took Kira to a power substation and tied her up with the intent of electrocuting her, which blacked out the entire town."

He closed his notebook, where he had been writing down the information they gave him, with a final snap.

"Sounds about right," Stiles sighed; with his right hand, he idly played with the ends of Olivia's ponytail.

"How'd you know he'd take her to a power station?"

"Well, cause he was an electrical engineer," Stiles scratched his temple with his free hand. He shifted his other away from Olivia until it was folding over his stomach. "Where else would he take her?"

There were a billion other places that Barrow had taken Kira, but they couldn't exactly tell Agent McCall that they knew they were at a power station because of Lydia's newfound banshee abilities. Then they'd be shipped to Eichen.

Agent McCall raised a dubious eyebrow at him. "That's one hell of a deduction there, Stiles."

"Yeah, what can I say? I take after my pops, he's in law enforcement," Stiles swiftly smirked, winking at his dad from where he sat behind McCall.

Noah audibly snorted, amused by his son's answer, but covered it with an awkward cough when McCall gave him a glare. "Stiles, just answer the man."

"We made a good guess," Stiles said finally, wrapping his arm back around Olivia's shoulders. She closed her tired eyes and rested her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling and relaxing at the scent that was pure him. Stiles always smelt so good, like sandalwood and musk and minty gum.

Agent McCall set his sights on Scott and Kira. "What were the two of you doing?"

"Eating pizza," Scott answered at the same time as Kira spoke, "Eating sushi."

Olivia rolled her eyes but didn't bother opening them; couldn't they have gotten their story straight before McCall started questioning them?

Scott and Kira glanced at each other awkwardly and cleared their throats.

"Eating sushi."

"Eating pizza."

Jesus Christ.

"Eating sushi and pizza," they finally said together.

Olivia opened her eyes just as McCall looked back at Noah in disbelief. "Do you believe this?"

"To be honest, I haven't believed a word Stiles has said since he learned how to speak," Noah spoke candidly, ignoring the offended gasp Stiles gave in response. "But I think these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time and that girl sitting there is very lucky for it."

"Kira," all heads turned to her when Agent McCall addressed her. "is that how you remember it?"

At once, Stiles, Olivia, and Lydia leaned forward to stare at Kira, giving her their own keep-your-mouth-shut looks. Kira only hesitated for a second before she answered him. "Yes...Could I get my phone back now?"

The police hadn't taken the rest of their phones, but apparently Barrow had started videoing Kira while in the power station. It was officially evidence. Which meant...

"Sorry, but no," McCall refused her as he stood from his seat on Noah's desk. "All right, I think that's it for now. If I have anymore questions, I'll get in touch with you. Kira, a deputy is going to take you home but we'll need you to fill out some paperwork first."

Olivia sighed in relief once they were ushered out of Noah's office. Sticking close to Stiles and Lydia and as they exited the police station, she pulled out her phone. She needed to call Isaac and see if he was okay. Because while Scott and Stiles were in danger with Barrow, Isaac had some other trouble that he had gone into.

There was no electricity pulsing through Beacon Hills unless it came from a generator. Despite this, the students of Beacon Hills High still had to attend their regular classes. Though the sun provided some light in the dark hallways and classrooms, everyone was still bathed in shadows and had to resort to their phones for flashlights if it was too dark for them.

Thankfully, Olivia's house had a generator that ran long enough for the food in their refrigerator to stay fresh and their phones to stay charged. She didn't want to be one of those people, but she would be seriously lost without her phone.

"Class starts in five minutes," Coach boomed through his trusty megaphone as he walked past Stiles' locker where he and Olivia stood before classes started. "Just because there's no power don't expect there to be no school."

Olivia looked up from her phone to narrow her eyes at him, knowing that something was off with that sentence.

"That was a triple negative," Stiles called out as he dug through his locker. "Very impressive, Coach."

"Copy that!"

Olivia snickered and shifted so she was leaning on her side at the lockers next to Stiles'. "Your relationship with Coach is so intriguing."

Stiles chuckled at her, smirking. "What, like how madly in love we are?"

"Exactly," Olivia laughed while pointing a manicured finger at him. "So, am I considered the side chick, or...?"

"Actually, you are," Stiles nodded seriously. "By the way, on a completely unrelated note, I have to cancel tonight's plans. I'm busy..."

"You're gonna Netflix and Chill with Coach? Damn..."

Stiles' amused face immediately creased into one of disgust. "Okay, gross. We took it too far."

Olivia laughed, her heart racing when Stiles gave into his amusement and chuckled along with her.

"Speaking of tonight," Olivia said when their laughter died down. "I'm kinda, sorta, throwing a party?"

Stiles blinked at her in shock. "You hate parties."

"But I don't hate Danny and every year he throws a Halloween party," she explained. "Jackson's not here to help him out and now with the power out, he doesn't have a place, so Lydia and I offered our house because we have the generators."

"At least I'll finally be invited to one of Danny's parties," Stiles paused and looked down at her with wide eyes. "I am invited, right?" when Olivia teasingly grimaced; Stiles' jaw dropped in offense. "Livvy!"

"Of course you're invited, sweetcheeks," Olivia rolled her eyes at him and shifted closer to him in order to wrap her hands around his right arm. "I was just teasing you."

"I have a fragile heart, you can't tease me about that kind of stuff," Stiles ducked down so he could whisper in her ear, his lips grazing against her skin. Olivia shivered and tightened her grip on him. "You know, unless we're alone, hopefully in a bed, though I wouldn't be against a shower or the back of Roscoe..."

Olivia held back her gasp but biting her lip. "But your fragile heart...?"

Stiles chuckled and quickly pressed his warms lips against the sensitive spot behind her ear. "You caught me. My heart's fine, it just beats really fast in your presence so I thought I might have a heart condition."

"You're so fucking cheesy, Stiles Stilinski," she giggled and lightly pushed him away from her. In the process, Stiles' backpack brushed against his locker, making his keys fall to the floor. "Oops, sorry."

"It's fine—and you love my cheesiness, by the way," Stiles winked at her and then bent to retrieve his key ring. He paused when he noticed a key that he didn't recognize. "Hello, where did you come from?"

"What, the key?" Stiles nodded at her; Olivia shrugged. "Maybe your dad put it on there. Oh, there's Scott."

Stiles, who was about to disagree with her about the key, turned around to see his best friend stepping into school. He waved at him, but Scott's focus was not on Stiles or Olivia. No, Scott was staring at Kira, who was at her locker down the hall. Before Scott could even take another step in her direction, Stiles quickly intervened.

"No, no, stop, stop," he directed Scott over to Olivia by his locker.

Scott gave him a disgruntled look. "What? I need to talk to her."

"No, you need to remember someone left a coded message telling Barrow to kill her," Stiles corrected him.

Olivia sighed. To be honest, she was with Scott on this one. Kira had a serial bomber go after her and try to kill her, and though she was mysteriously able to survive an astounding electric blast, Kira was a sweet girl and they needed to check up on her. It was out of the norm for her, she was fully aware, but since Kira was like them—at least, she was supernatural—maybe she needed friends, or a pack, to help her along. Olivia and Scott were willing to extend that olive branch.

"That's why he needs to talk to her, Stiles."

Stiles gave her a betrayed look. "Don't take his side!" he looked at her and Scott sternly. "Guys, until we figure out if she's just another psychotic monster that's going to start murdering everybody, I vote against any and all interaction."

"Stiles, she uses an elephant backpack, for crying out loud," Olivia rolled her eyes. "Does that seem psychotic to you?"

Stiles cocked his head, seriously considering her question. Before he could answer, Scott spoke, "What if she's like me?"

Scott's comment seemed to make up Stiles' mind. "That girl walked through 1.21 gigawatts of electricity," he pointed out, annoyed, and slammed his locker shut. "She's not like you."

Olivia turned her head toward Kira's locker. Kira seemed nervous, as though she could feel their eyes on her, as she rummaged through her locker. Quickly, she grabbed a textbook, shut her locker, and walked away, glancing back at them only once.

"Maybe Stiles is right," Olivia gave in, looking over at Scott. "Werewolves can't take that level of electricity. So...until we find out what Kira is, maybe you need to give her some space."

Stiles gave her a proud look while Scott sighed and shook his head. "Fine," he finally agreed. "Let's go to class."

Together, they walked to physics class. Today was the first day that Olivia's aunt, Natalie, would be taking over Mr. Harris' classes. Olivia was very proud of her aunt and excited to be able to learn from her, as she usually didn't have time to sit down and discuss the sciences with her whilst at her previous job at the local television station. No longer would they have subpar substitute teachers trying to teach them about higher levels of science—if Olivia was going to be challenged for the rest of the year, she needed a real science guy and Natalie more than fit the bill.

"Scott, Stiles," Natalie greeted the boys when they passed her to find their shared table. "Olivia, sweetheart, can we talk?"

"Sure, Aunt Nat," Olivia stepped aside to allow her classmates to walk into the room. "What's up? Are you nervous for your first class? Because you don't have to be. You're gonna be amazing."

Natalie smiled gratefully. "Well, thank you, Liv, but that's not what I wanted to talk about. I know we discussed the party at the house tonight, but Sherry's house doesn't have power, so I was hoping we could have book club at our house. We're the only ones with working generators..."

Olivia smiled to hide her disappointment. "Don't worry about it, Aunt Nat. I'm sure book club will be fun. I have to go talk to Danny, though..."

"Of course," Natalie nodded. "I have to pass out these worksheets anyway."

Olivia gave her aunt one last smile before scurrying over to the lab table where Danny was seated. Usually she and Lydia were lab partners and Danny shared with Aiden, but they could handle a switch for one day. She clambered onto the lab stool next to Danny, and gave Lydia, who was seated at the table in front of them, a significant look. Lydia could read her easily and since she knew about the party plans, she was able to realize that something was going on.

"You're my lab partner today, huh?" Danny gave Olivia a confused look.

"It's because I have bad news. We can't use my house tonight, my aunt's having book club."

Danny visibly deflated. "So we have no venue?"

"Do we know of another place that's big enough for a party and has generators?" Olivia mused. The only other place that she, personally, could think of was Derek's loft. Derek would never go for it, would he? "Wait a second..."

Every Halloween, since Derek was around fourteen, his mom, Talia, would take him and Laura to a showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was very shocking that Derek enjoyed such an event, but he never failed to go each year, even after Talia died. Olivia had been with to the show with her cousins once, and though she liked the movie, she didn't much enjoy being surrounded by strangers who sang louder than the actors or threw stuff at the screen.

Yes, she was entirely aware that she was a party-pooper, thank you very much. The point was that Derek wouldn't be at the loft, as the nearest showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show was an hour away. He'd be gone all night and would be none the wiser of a party.

Danny perked up, seeing the scheming look on her face. "You have a plan, don't you?"

"I know a place where we can have your party."

She pulled out her phone to text Derek.

Ollie: Are you still going to Rocky Horror?

Derek: Yeah, why?

Ollie: Jw. Have fun and be safe!

When Stiles thought about how his Halloween was supposed to go, he certainly hadn't thought of today's events. He'd been expecting a scary movie marathon with Olivia by his side, allowing him to hide his head in her neck at the scary parts. He'd been expecting them to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters that stumbled upon the Sheriff's house because the Stilinski's always gave out the best candy in their neighborhood.

He wasn't, however, expecting a rave at Derek's loft—that Olivia helped plan, by the way—or helping Scott and Kira break into the police station.

When Scott had approached Stiles, asking for help get into the police station, he had immediately said no. Agent Jackass McCall was already trying to get his dad impeached, and there was no way he was taking part in any plot that could get Noah into even more trouble. Unfortunately, he felt obligated to change his tune when Scott told him exactly why he and Kira needed to break into Agent McCall's office.

Apparently Kira had already known that something was off with her before the Barrow incident. She had taken a picture of herself and found a sort of aura around her, one that definitely couldn't be explained if you didn't know about the supernatural happenings in the world. Now that McCall had Kira's phone, he had access to that picture and they absolutely could not let him know about the supernatural side to Beacon Hills, let alone his son's current nature.

So, instead of helping Olivia, Danny, and the twins set up the rave at Derek's loft, he was stuck playing sidekick. Fun. Yeah, it was totally what he wanted to do on Halloween.

Bitterly, he chewed up the rest of the Snickers bar he had been snacking on and threw the wrapper away in the small bin he kept in the backseat of his jeep. When he turned back, facing the front, he saw Scott and Kira pull up on Scott's bike.

All right, here we go.

It wasn't that Stiles didn't like Kira—honestly, he didn't know enough about her to like or dislike her—but he certainly didn't trust her. After everything they went through since Scott was bitten by Peter, how was he supposed to trust anyone new? Especially when she happened to be immune to electricity and instantly took a shining to Scott.

Stiles grabbed the station keycards that he had sneakily copied from Noah and handed them to Scott one by one. "Okay, this one will get you into all of the perimeter doors," he passed another one. "this one into the evidence room, and this one's for my father's office."

Scott looked at him, alarmed. "You didn't steal these, did you?"

"No, I cloned them using the RFID emulator."

It was clear that Scott nor Kira had no idea what he was talking about. "Is that worse than stealing?"

Stiles rolled his eyes; the two of them had done a lot worse than stealing before. "It's smarter."

Scott nodded, his lips quirking up, impressed by Stiles' actions but he was quickly pulled away by Kira. "Scott, can I ask you something?"

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. That wasn't suspicious at all. "Okay, I'll just...wait here..."

Luckily, Kira and Scott's conversation was brief. They joined him back at the jeep, Kira smiling widely up at him. "Okay."

"Okay," Stiles mimicked her, raising his eyebrows as he glanced between her and Scott. "So, now almost everybody's out dealing with the blackout, but there's always somebody at the front desk, dispatch and usually a night shifter or two," he pointed at the only door in the alley where he and Scott parked. "You guys are gonna use the service door entrance by the dumpster, all right? Nobody uses it."

Scott and Kira glanced at the service door and nodded obediently.

"Now, I'll text you if anyone comes out," Stiles continued. "But, Scott, if you get caught, I can't help you. My dad's under investigation for an impeachment because of your dad, so if anything happens, I will run and leave you both for dead."

Kira blinked and smiled nervously at him while Scott nodded, knowing how serious he was. "I got it. Seriously, dude, thanks."

Stiles pressed his lips together and nodded. "I'd ask my dad, but you know..."

"No, I know," Scott assured him earnestly. "I get it."

"All right, just, uh, hurry up," Stiles waved them off. "Be careful."

Scott and Kira scurried off and once they were inside, Stiles let a big sigh of relief. Hopefully they'd have no trouble and get in and out after deleting the pictures on Kira's phone. However, a part of him knew that it wouldn't be that simple. When were they ever given the easy way out? The answer was that they didn't; they had notoriously bad luck.

Stiles waited silently, impatiently fiddling with his key ring. He tossed them round and round his index finger until he caught sight of the key he had noticed earlier at school. He didn't know what it was for and he knew the purpose for all of his keys. He had his house keys, his jeep keys, his dad's car keys, Scott's house keys, and even Olivia's house keys...but this key? Well, he had never seen it before and it was bugging him out. How could he not remember putting a new key on his key ring? How else would it have gotten there?

Bright headlights seared his eyes for a moment as a vehicle pulled into the alleyway behind the station. He didn't know who it was that had parked there until the headlights went off and the man got out of his car; Stiles would recognize that tall, lanky figure anywhere.

Fucking asshole, he cursed to himself as McCall rounded the front of his car. Fuck, Scott, where are you? Come on. Oh, fuck it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Despite telling Scott upfront that he would leave him and Kira, he couldn't do it.

"Fuck," he opened his door and jumped out as McCall entered the station. "I'm go going to regret this."

He quickly ran around the building, entering only a few seconds after Agent McCall flashed his badge to the deputy at the front desk.

"Hey, hey!" he called, waving to the workers at the desk before catching up to McCall. "Wow!" he exclaimed when the agent turned to face him, confused. "Thank God you are here. Oh, boy! Thank the lord!"

As always, Agent McCall was not impressed with his antics. "What do you want, Stiles?"

Shit, now he had to come up with something to talk about. "I was...I was just...I was thinking on the case," he blurted out nervously, his absentminded thoughts taking over for him. "I was thinking I should clue you in on my thinking. Here's my thinking, I was thinking this..."

He grimaced at the annoyed glare McCall was giving him. "I was thinking that Barrow, right...I was thinking that Barrow received the information about who to kill at the school, right, you know that?" he was fully aware he was rambling but the more his brain worked, the better he felt about this excuse of a conversation. "So, I was thinking that maybe the person who gave him that information—check this out—might actually be someone at the school."

Agent McCall raised his eyebrows and Stiles laughed awkwardly, poking his chest. "And that's, uh, my thinking."

McCall hummed for a moment, eyeing him suspiciously Stiles honestly thought that he was caught and he had just given him the very reason to fire Noah, but then the older man spoke. "You're right."

"I am?!"

"Yeah, we, uh...we started looking for links between Barrow, faculty, and students last night," McCall informed him.

"So you already, then, know that stuff?" McCall nodded at Stiles' question. "You already thought of that."

"Your dad did," McCall shared, his mouth twisting into a disapproving smirk. "His one useful suggestion."

A storm cloud of rage bubbled in Stiles' gut as McCall went to enter the bullpen. He was so fucking sick of this man coming around and ruining everyone's lives just because his sucked so bad. McCall made his bed and instead of laying in it, he was destroying everyone else's.

Without thinking, Stiles firmly grabbed McCall's arm, stopping him from entering the bullpen. "You know, this attitude that you have toward my dad? You can dress it up to all the professional disapproval that you want, but I know the real reason you don't like him."

McCall chuckled sarcastically, sending Stiles deeper into his silent fury. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," his voice lowered threateningly, his nostrils flaring angrily. "because he knows something that you don't want him to know. And guess what?" his whisper took on a sing-song tune before quickly diving into a hard whisper. "I know it too."

McCall swallowed uncomfortably and a thrill went through Stiles as he congratulated himself on being able to intimidate an FBI agent who was trying to fuck up his dad's life. "Go home, Stiles. There's a curfew."

Stiles smirked as McCall pulled himself from his grasp and stepped around him, clearing his throat awkwardly as he entered the bullpen. Without another word, he left the police station, riding the high that the whole interaction had caused him.

He waited only a few minutes by his jeep until Scott and Kira ran out of the building, huge smiles on their faces.

"We did it," Scott told him enthusiastically. "All the pics are deleted."

"That was awesome!" Kira crowed, bouncing in place. "I mean, terrifying, completely terrifying...but kind of awesome! I've never done anything like that before. Have you guys?"

Stiles snorted and shared an amused look with Scott. "Yeah, once or twice."

Scott grinned back at him and then sighed, looking to Kira. "I guess I should take you home."

It was very clear to Stiles that Scott didn't want to stop hanging out with Kira. They were obviously having a good time and, really, what trouble could they get up to at a party? Olivia liked Kira, too—as much as he could like someone that she hadn't really hung out with—so it wasn't like Kira would be unwanted at the rave.

"Hey," he patted Scott's shoulder pointedly. "Don't forget, Livvy's throwing that party at Derek's loft."

"Oh, yeah," Scott perked up and glanced back at Kira. "You wanna go?"

Kira smiled shyly—that was all the answer the boys needed.

Olivia was only a little tipsy.

She was being responsible tonight—well, as responsible as one could get while throwing a party at your cousins loft while they're out of town—and not drinking as much as Danny. He needed to have fun and relax a bit, and while Olivia wanted to have fun too, she didn't need alcohol to do so.

The only reason she was drinking at all was because Lydia had begged her to take a couple of shots with her and it seemed socially unacceptable to not drink a beer at your own party.

So, yeah, she was feeling a little bit buzzed but not enough to feel it in the morning. She knew her limits and she wasn't the type of person to go over them.

All around her, people were dancing, drinking, and having fun with neon paint dripped all over their bodies. The black lights that she, Danny, Ethan, and Aiden put up around the loft made everyone glow in the dark and with the pumping of the loud music that the awesome deejay that Danny hired played, it was enough to make anyone excited. She didn't even like most parties and she was having a great time. Besides, after what Beacon Hills went through with stupid Jennifer and the million human sacrifices, they needed a time to let loose.

So, even though she normally couldn't stand Aiden—or Lydia spending time with him, for that matter—she couldn't help but smirk when she saw him and Lydia dancing up on each other. No doubt Lydia was trying to keep her mind off of Scott and his newfound crush on Kira by focusing on the former alpha. It wasn't the best way to deal, but who was Olivia to tell Lydia how to live her life? Lydia was completely capable of taking care of herself.

"I cannot believe that Olivia Martin threw a party," her attention was caught by Allison as she and Isaac walked over to her. "at her cousin's loft, no less."

Isaac laughed and added, "I'm guessing Derek can never know about this?"

"Maybe in a couple of years," Olivia quickly wrapped her arms around them in a short group hug. "How are you doing, Isaac? You never got back to me."

She didn't like the way that Isaac and Allison immediately shared a loaded look with one another, as if debating on how to answer her question. She wasn't dumb, she knew they were hiding something. Why, she didn't know.

Isaac knew that she wouldn't give up and though he knew he owed her some sort of explanation, he had promised Allison and her dad to keep his mouth shut for twenty-four hours. "Enjoy the party, Liv. I'll tell you after."

"Promise, both of you?" Olivia gave the two of them a serious look.

Allison grinned while Isaac nodded, both of them speaking together. "Promise."

"All right, fine. Why don't you guys get something to drink?" Olivia glanced around the group of dancing bodies before pointing out where the bartender was set up. "Oh, and get painted up, too."

"Yes, ma'am," Isaac hooked Allison's fingers with his and pulled her away, pointedly ignoring the amused look their friend sent their way.

Olivia shook her head, eyes following Isaac and Allison as they slipped into the crowd. She should have known something was going on there, but she guessed she had been a little preoccupied with everything else going on in their lives. Still...Allison and Isaac? Yeah, she could see it. Allison was badass and strong and she was the firm ground of support that Isaac needed and Isaac was light and funny and could definitely get Allison to let loose. They complimented each other, they were cute.

They didn't need her approval whatsoever, but they had it anyway.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pulse came from Derek's tether before fading away. Olivia paused, her hand on her chest, and focused in on him. He was fine now, but it was odd, they way he lit up and went dark so soon after. Right now, it didn't concern her. Maybe he almost missed a red light or something...

Thoughts about Derek slipped away as she spotted the loft door opening. She recognized the neon-striped t-shirt that Stiles had worn to school earlier that day, and was instantly on her way toward him. She was tipsy, she wanted to have fun, and her hot-ass boyfriend had just entered the premises. There was no way she was just going to stand there and wait for him to come to her.

She made her way through the jungle of her drunk classmates, her eyes never leaving Stiles. As she got closer, she heard Scott—who was with Kira—asking him about leaving so they could figure something out. Before Stiles could respond, she was grabbing his arm, turning him and standing on her tiptoes so she could kiss him on the cheek.

"Happy Halloween, sweetcheeks," she purred into his ear, giving him a seductive look before letting him go.

"It can wait, it can wait!" Stiles shouted at Scott over the music. As Olivia began to slip away, he grabbed her hand so she would take him with her. "See ya!"

Olivia smirked knowingly when Stiles tightened his grip on her hand and abruptly pulled, swiftly turning her to face him. "Look at you, baby."

She was fully aware of what her outfit would do to him. Other than the fact she thought she was hot, she knew that her short, flowy shorts, and neon orange bralette would turn him on. And the body paint brushed all over her, well, that was just a bonus. "You like?"

"I love it. You're so fucking hot," he pulled her closer to him, their fronts pressed together; Olivia instantly grabbed his biceps, not fighting when he smashed their lips together.

It had been about a month since Olivia and Stiles had sex because of their busy lives. Of course, they did other things when they were in the mood but they never had time to go all the way again. Both of them were feeling the strain; they were crazy in love and so terribly attracted to one another, so of course, hormones were always pulsing through them. That night, they reached a pinnacle of tension that they couldn't ignore.

Within minutes, Olivia and Stiles found themselves upstairs in the bedroom Olivia used when she stayed over at Derek's loft. The both of them completely ignored the full-sized mattress in favor of the back of the door that Stiles pressed her up against, the wood soothingly cool against her back.

Stiles' hair was a mess under Olivia's fingers as she lost herself in his mouth, tongues wrestling together in a fight that neither of them wanted to lose—or win, for that matter. Stiles' palms were hot against her thighs, pushing her up until her legs wrapped around his waist, and when they moved tantalizingly slow to her ass and squeezed her cheeks, she gasped and arched her chest against him.

"Shit, Stiles!"

"Mmhm," Stiles moaned against her lips as her movement pressed deliciously against his cock. Slowly, he kissed away from her mouth and down her jaw to her neck, sucking harshly against the smooth and silky skin he found there. He loved the way she reacted to him, pushing herself against him again as she groaned under his demonstrations. "Livvy."

An indescribable warmth curled in Olivia's belly as she and Stiles rubbed up against one another. Letting go of his hair, she moved one hand down the length of Stiles' body to the band of his jeans. She easily popped the button and took a second to play with the wiry hair of his happy trail, knowing that it would lead her right to paradise.

"Mm...want you, baby," Stiles abruptly pulled away from her neck to stare at her with blown eyes. "Can I have you?"

Olivia didn't need to think about it. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. "'Course, babe."

A wickedly sexy grin split Stiles' lips and Olivia's head nearly hit the door with how forcefully he kissed her. She was so caught up in their kiss that she didn't notice Stiles using one hand to pull her bralette down, freeing her breasts; it wasn't until he pulled away from the kiss and wrapped his lips about her right nipple when she realized. She moaned loudly, the pitch arcing higher when Stiles pushed his left thigh between hers to take some of her weight so she could grind down on him.

"Fuck, Stiles."

Stiles playfully bit at her nipple in response, prompting a pleasured sigh that turned more intense when he sucked at her. Shit, he felt so fucking good.

"Please..."

Stiles pulled away from her breast, licking his lips, and smirked up at her. "Please what, baby?"

Olivia's chest heaved as she breathed, "Please fuck me."

In a rapid succession of movements, broken up by awkward giggles, loving kisses, and whispered promises under their breath, Stiles and Olivia stripped from the rest of their clothes. The heat turned back on once Olivia's panties were officially out of the way and Stiles took it to his advantage, playing with her clit with the pad of his thumb.

Olivia moaned and ducked her head into his neck, her mouth finding traction between his neck and collarbone.

"Ready?"

"Mmhm."

Both of them moaned together as Stiles slipped into her with one single thrust. Quick to find a rhythm, they moved their hips together, taking pleasure from one another that was freely given.

"So fucking good, baby," Stiles groaned into her collarbone, gently nipping the skin there. By now, some of the neon paint on Olivia's body was starting to rub off on him and boy, did he not mind. They were like some kind of sexy painting together, they could totally be in a museum. "Love you."

"I love you," Olivia returned, arching back when he hit a particularly good spot inside of her.

She gasped when he licked from her collarbone all the way up to her chin before uniting their lips. Pressing her up against the door so most of her weight was resting on it, Stiles moved one hand to hold her jaw, keeping her lips on his, and the other to her clit, rubbing it firmly.

"S-Stiles..."

"You gonna come for me, baby? Huh?" he dragged his lips over to her ear, whispering to her with hot and heavy breaths. "C'mon, baby. Come with me."

The coil of pleasure that had been starting to build since she first kissed Stiles that night was wound too tight. Even though it felt so, so good to stay on the edge while Stiles thrust in and out of her and played with her clit, heading over the precipice would be even better. That's just how orgasms with Stiles went: pleasure, pleasure, and more pleasure.

Moving her right hand from where it was attached to the firm muscles in Stiles' back, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled her back to her lips. Their moans harmonized together as they reached their peaks, coming within just seconds of each other with sharp sighs.

Ten minutes later, after waiting out their aftershocks and post-orgasm bliss, they cleaned themselves up, shared a few more kisses, and went back downstairs where the party was still going strong.

Reminiscent of their first dance together, Stiles pulled Olivia onto the dance floor. They made fools of themselves as they danced crazily together, pulling out silly dance moves from the blue. The goofy grins on their faces told outsiders how madly in love they were and the warmth inside their chests proved it to themselves—not that they had any doubt, either way.

Before long, Stiles mentioned how thirsty he was, so they scored a couple of beers off the bartender and went to sit down.

"Let me see your bottle opener," Olivia held her palm out to Stiles expectantly, knowing that he kept one on his key ring.

"Oop," Stiles rummaged through his jean pocket and pulled the key ring out, handing it over to her. "Here ya go."

"Thanks," she detached the caps from their bottles and paused, her eyes lingering on his keys when she went to give them back to him. "You know, your key has phosphors on it."

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. "Phosphors? What the hell is that?"

Olivia rolled her eyes and smiled patiently at him. "It's any substance that luminesces," she told him. "It's in your teeth and your fingernails, laundry detergent, this paint," she brushed her thumb against his lips, where some of the leftover lipstick she had one glowed against his flesh. "this..."

Stiles cut her off, urgently smashing his mouth to hers. Her stomach flipped pleasantly as she kissed back. After a few seconds they pulled away, both of them inhaling deeply.

"It reacts to the UV light," she finished, breathing heavily. "that's why it glows."

"How would I get phosphors on my key?"

"Probably lots of ways," Olivia shrugged carelessly. "You could have touched them after chemistry class, or after you washed your clothes..." she trailed off when she saw the frown playing at his lips. "Stiles, are you okay?"

Stiles forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah...um...I'm sorry, I just thought of something and I really have to go."

"What?" Olivia was understandably confused. "Stiles, what are you talking about?"

"I want to stay, I really do, cause I love you and you're so fucking beautiful," Stiles rambled quickly, standing up and setting his beer bottle down on the floor. "but I need to go see something, so you stay here, okay. I love you. Drink a bottle of water, okay?"

"Stiles, wait—"

"Love you, be careful!" he called, slipping away before she could stand and go after him.

"Stiles!"

Olivia wanted to follow him, she really did. She knew something was bothering him and she wanted to know what it was so she could help him. But before she could chase after him, Lydia's tether flared brightly and disappeared just like Derek's had before. Just like Isaac's had the night before, which could not be a coincidence.

Worriedly, she dived into Lydia's tether and looked for her. In a daze, she started walking, not even noticing when Danny had started to follow her, worriedly calling out her name.

"Liv, what are you doing? Olivia!"

Lydia, Lydia, Lydia...

She opened the door that led to Derek's balcony and paused when she saw her cousin laying still on the ground, her fingers seizing lightly. "Lydia!" she rushed to her and knelt down, finally noticing Danny. "Go get Aiden, hurry!"

"I'm so sorry, Lyds," she murmured, using all her strength to pull Lydia into her lap. She wrapped her arms tightly around the shivering red head and dug her head into her neck. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine."

What the hell happened to Lydia? What had attacked her and left her freezing on the balcony, unable to move or call for help? Whatever it was, was this the thing that got Derek and Isaac?

It was only a minute before Aiden and Danny rushed back out to her and Lydia.

"What happened?" Aiden asked as he knelt down next to the girls.

"I have no idea, but she's freezing," Olivia's eyes stung, feeling helpless, as she helped transfer Lydia to Aiden's warm arms. "I think she's hypothermic. We gotta get her inside."

Aiden nodded seriously and got to his feet, lifting Lydia with ease. "Let's go."

"Over here," Danny pointed to the nearest wall as they passed him to go back into the loft. "there's a heating vent!"

"Thank you, Danny," Olivia placed a grateful hand on his shoulder before following Aiden.

The former alpha set Lydia down in front of the heat register—thankfully the building used propane for heat, so the lack of electricity didn't affect it—and held her tightly, rocking her back in forth in order to get some heat back inside of Lydia. Olivia immediately started rubbing Lydia's bare legs, hoping that friction could offer some heat too.

"I'll try to find a blanket," Danny volunteered.

"Upstairs, the first door to the right," Olivia told him; he nodded and took off into the crowd. "Lydia," she called loudly so her cousin could hear her over the music. "Lyds, what happened? Can you tell me what happened?"

Lydia stared at her, wide-eyed, and gasped, "They came out of the dark."

"Who?" Aiden asked. "Who came out of the dark?"

"Lyds?"

"They—they looked like n-ninjas," Lydia stammered, her teeth chattering. "I—I couldn't scream, it took my scream."

Olivia and Aiden shared a dreadful look, both of them thinking the same thing. Shit.

Then, Olivia heard it, the ferocious growl that filled up her whole mental map. Derek's tether lit up brilliantly as he called out for her and Scott. It was then that she realized that she had horribly screwed up, ignoring his tether earlier. She could have done something if she just took her warnings of Derek and Isaac's injuries seriously. She was a horrible person.

"Derek!"

Aiden looked at her sharply. "This happened to Derek too?"

"I think so."

Danny quickly came back with a blanket and draped it over Lydia's shoulders. Though the redhead was still kind of out of it, she was slowly warming back up to the point where Olivia felt a little better about her health. Just as she was about to suggest they move Lydia to her room, the music was abruptly cut off.

"GET OUT!"

Yeah, that was definitely Derek. Olivia was so fucking screwed.

At once, the crowd started running for the door. Olivia helped Aiden get Lydia to her feet and let Danny take some of her weight. "Can you take her home please? I'll deal with this."

Danny nodded, giving a very angry Derek a wary look. "Yeah, okay." And with that, he towed Lydia out of the loft, leaving only Olivia, Derek, Aiden, Ethan, Scott, Allison, Isaac, and Kira.

Well, there were the dark shadows that appeared out of nowhere, too. Just like Lydia had described them, they looked like ninja assassins, with silver masks and glowing yellow eyes draped in black robes.

In unison, the robed ninjas took a step toward Aiden and Olivia, their glowing eyes glaring at them.

"Guys," Aiden called to the rest of the pack, reaching for Olivia to move her behind him. "Guys, they're looking at us. Why are they all looking at us, guys?"

"Ollie, go!"

Olivia didn't hesitate, taking Derek's warning. She ran away from where Aiden stood toward Isaac, Allison, and Ethan, who was leaning heavily against them. At the same time, Derek and Scott attacked, turning as they went to fight the dark ninjas.

Olivia focused on Derek, watching with a grimace as she realized that the ninjas were much better than him and Scott at combat. Sure, Derek had experience and strength, but these guys that came from the shadows seemed unbeatable. At one point, Derek had even snapped one's neck, only for it to pop back in place.

Derek was not doing well in his fight, his tether pulsing brightly, and neither was Scott. Once they were both on the floor, tapped out, Isaac stepped in, sharpening his nails into claws as Olivia took the rest of Ethan's weight to help Allison.

Isaac growled at one of the ninjas but the being did not look at all intimidated. In fact, he pulled a long, sharp sword from the middle of his chest and held it out toward Isaac, swinging it around threateningly. Smartly, Isaac stepped back—protecting Aiden, of all people, was not worth the sword to his stomach.

The ninja turned away from Isaac, facing Aiden like the others.

"Someone do something!" Allison called out, looking between Scott and Derek.

It was too late. Two ninjas grabbed Aiden's arms and held him still while a third stood in front of him. He looked into the former alpha's eyes and cocked his head, reaching up to grab a hold of his ear. A rattling noise came from its chest as it used one strict flick to make a mark behind Aiden's ear; Aiden immediately collapsed onto the floor, looking much like Lydia had when Olivia had found her.

Another step and all the ninjas were looking at her.

"Oh, shit."

Scott raced in front of her, Ethan, and Allison, growling fiercely at the beings. Before any of them could take a step forward, the sun began to shine through the large window. With only a touch of the rays against the ninja's, they disappeared in a black mist.

Finding his strength, Ethan left Allison and Olivia's grasp to run across the room to his brother. At the same time, Olivia went over to Derek, helping him up from the floor and wrapping an arm around his torso to keep him upright.

"What the hell were those things?" Scott asked, looking around the room for any answer.

None of them knew...except maybe Allison and Isaac.

Isaac stepped forward, glancing at Allison. "Your dad's twenty-four hours are up."

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1175

What’s the last vegetable you ate, and when did you eat it? My dinner had broccoli and bell peppers in it.

What was your last Facebook notification for? It was Aliyah replying to our comment thread on one of my posts. There wasn’t anything in her comment that was worth replying to anymore, so I just reverted with a Haha react.

What bands have you seen live? Paramore, Coldplay (not super legally), and One Direction.

Tell me an interesting fact about your mother: She almost became a flight attendant, but she failed the final screening because of her height. I think the idea of her nearly having a completely different career is very interesting.

What do you think is the most important thing to happen to you before the age of 13? In my case, probably getting my period. I got my first one when I was barely 10.

What were you super against as a young child but aren’t anymore? Chicken curry. I also hateeeeeeeed Dora the Explorer with a passion, but now I find the show hilarious haha.

What are your plans later today? My work sched this week had been so fucking PACKED, that I want to do nothing but catch up on sleep all weekend. But seeing as I’m a proponent of revenge bedtime procrastination, I also highly doubt I’d let myself fall into a nap (Exhibit A: Me currently taking this survey at 2 AM...) If anything, I’ll probably just continue watching BTS In The Soop and finally start on Season 2 of Bon Voyage.

Are you doing anything exciting this weekend? Well, it’s the weekend already, so...that ^ I will also have to take Cooper to the vet this Sunday.

Who do you talk to the most? Other than my team at work, Angela. I’ve been extra talkative these days because of our now-mutual excessive love for BTS, that I sometimes feel bad that I keep bombarding her with messages.

What are some things you do regularly that make you feel old? Talk to my friends who are still in college, especially when they update me about the current happenings in UP that I have absolutely no clue about anymore.

Who is your best guy friend(s)? I don’t have any best guy friends.

Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Neither; I’m fine with my tannish skin tone.

If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it? Keep it; I already do.

Have you had an x-ray in the past year? Nah. My last one had been nearly 5 years ago, when I needed to get my back checked for scoliosis.

Do you think your first love still loves you? No. And that’s okay. :)

What is something that is “going right” in your life? EVERYTHINGGGGGGGGGGG I am so so happy with my life right now weeeee. I have the job of my dreams – I’m even working with THE ACTUAL K-POP GROUP SLASH PHENOMENON SLASH ICONS BTS for one of the clients I handle FHKDHGKHGFDKGHDKGH, I have the best and most supportive friends in the world, and I am now starting to grow my collection of BTS merch with my hard-earned money. Everything is going abso-fucking-lutely perfectly, and to think I didn’t think I would make it past 2020.

When did you feel ready to start dating? Middle of high school.

When was the last time your pet bit you? If you don’t have a pet, have you ever been bitten by someone else’s? I was play fighting with Cooper earlier tonight, and he got a little bit excited and ended up biting my upper lip quite harder than usual. It stung for a while, but it’s okay now.

Where were you the last time you made out? I think it was my bedroom.

When was the last time you cried tears of joy? Yesterday.

How do you type your sad smileys? Just this :(

Do you have “decorative hand-towels” that cannot be used in your house? Nope.

What was the last soda you drank? Probably the Coke I drank at an org event last year, pre-pandemic, out of sheer thirst. There wasn’t any water being served so I just gulped down the soda and tried to ignore the annoying fizziness. I don’t drink soda.

What was the last thing someone made fun of you for? I was having a video call session with my workmates this afternoon as a way to end the week on a good note, and I recounted my experience of being locked out of the office while I was in the middle of a presentation for a client, and how I managed to get myself back in.

Have you ever had any type of surgery? Nope.

Should kids be allowed to get tattoos/piercings without parental consent? No.

Who was the last person to hit on you? No one has in a while.

What was the last thing you decided not to do, that you were supposed to? A deliverable a client asked me to do. It can wait til Monday.

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to tell someone? Maybe straight up admitting to my mom that she can be hurtful sometimes. It’s hard because she never actually processes things like that and they do nothing but vanish into thin air, even though it takes everything in me to be that honest.

What do you put on hot dogs? Mayonnaise.

Ever fallen in the shower? Like once, when I was 10 or 11.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever called someone you care about? Continued from last night. It was probably ‘bitch.’ Based on what I’ve learned from my mom, I put extra effort in particuarly watching what comes out of my mouth, because I know how words stick.

Do you think that things will get better? I did, and now it has.

Have you ever legitimately saved a person’s life? I think I may have. The story is a little triggering though, so I wouldn’t share it.

What’s your favourite book genre? Doesn’t really count as a genre but I like auto/biographies.

Have you ever walked out of a movie at the theatre? I’ve felt like it, but I’ve never done it.

Do dogs like you? Yes, at least for 99.5% of my experiences.

Would you say that you project an air of authority? In certain circles. But there are some groups where I trust others to lead rather than me.

Have you ever jumped off a high dive into a pool? Nah, because I’ve never seen one. But even if I did, I think I would be too scared to do it hahaha.

Do you use one towel when you shower or two? (one for hair, one for body) One. I use it to wash my entire body already.

Have you ever been to one of the great lakes? No.

Who do you know that had a baby recently? The son of one of my old college instructors. I believe she had been born in March because that prof recently posted family photos on Facebook that celebrated the baby’s first monthsary.

Do you like Usher’s songs? Not in particular.

When was the last time you went to a waterpark? Not a big fan of these as I find them unhygienic haha. The last time must have been...like anywhere between 12-15 years ago.

Have you ever ridden a train? Just once, and I had to go with Jum because I didn’t want to go alone.

What do you eat your French fries with? Mayonnaise. If there isn’t any available, I’d want the fries to at least be generously sprinkled with salt; otherwise I’d find it too bland.

Do you have family problems? Nothing blatant, but I know we are more dysfunctional than how we make it out to be.

What’s the last food you ate that was stale? Pizza. I got two extra large boxes for my birthday last Wednesday and until now we still have some of it around :((( I ate some slices at around 3 AM earlier and they were tough as fuck to chew, hahaha. Still good, though.

How do you like your grilled cheese? I don’t have grilled cheese sandwiches often. Surprise me.

What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked? I don’t cook.

What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid? I liked watching my cousin play video games; playing outside; and answering my friends’ autograph books (aka my pre-survey days, lol).

Have you ever been close to drowning? Yup but just once. I was swimming and was just about to come up for air when one of my cousins, coming from the bottom of the pool, suddenly started to playfully pull me down. I was nearly out of breath by then and he had a much stronger grip on me, so I struggled for a while and ended up panicking and thrashing around a bit before I was able to wriggle myself free.

Have you ever had a panic attack? It’s rare that it happens, but when it does it’s really bad and there’s no telling when it would subside.

Do you like doing housework? Some, and only if I’m in the mood to. If I feel like I have to do it, then I get lazy.

Would you ever get implants? I considered it before as a teen, back when small-chested girls were still bullied or made fun of on an everyday basis. How fucked up is that? I’m so relieved at how much social media has progressed.

Do you own a robe? No.

Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? I have a younger sister but she’s barely a baby; she’s literally turning 21 this year. Nina.

Do you like crust on pizza or do you cut it off? I like crust as long as it’s normal crust or stuffed crust. I can’t stand thin crust.

What was the last song you listened to? Euphoria - credited to BTS, but it’s a Jungkook solo.

Have any of your family members been to jail? Not blood relatives, but I know of super extended unrelated family members who’ve been to prison. Is there anyone that you feel you still need some closure with? I don’t think so. Sometimes no closure is closure.

Can you remember when you first learned how to read? I can’t, actually. All I remember is that I suddenly wanted to read everything by the time I was 5 and asked for nothing but storybooks every Christmas.

What event in your life has transformed your personality the most? College. Gabie also had a very big influence on me during our relationship.

Have you ever had any teeth pulled? Yes, but it was because it was already decayed.

Do you still want to be what you wanted to be in elementary school? No, but I do elements of it in my work so that works out well for me. I wanted to be an author when I was in grade school, and today I regularly write various materials in my job.

What’re some TV shows that you would like to get into? I just wanna get reconnected with The Crown again. I was already into it but I had to stop watching for a LONG time, because the show had some personal connections to my ex and so it seemed hard to get into the new season without breaking down lol. Now that I’m doing fine, I feel like it’s a good time to revisit the show.

How would you feel if you were drafted for the military? Won’t happen here, but it’s the kind of situation where I wouldn’t really have a choice and would have to follow.

What is your favorite Queen song? I don’t have any.

Do you know how to use any foreign currency? What do you mean, use...? Don’t you just use money to pay?? Hahaha or if you mean convert, then yeah I know how to do that with several currencies – US dollar, Korean won, Euro, Japanese yen, and whatever official name the pound has.

Been kissed by someone who you knew was “bad” for you? Nope.

Ever taken an at-home pregnancy test? I have not.

When was the last time you were at a loss of what to do? I usually don’t have plans laid out on weekends these days anymore, so lately it’s all been a matter of winging it and just wanting to make sure that by the end of the day I get to say I made the most out of my free time.

What did you do on your favorite date with a guy/girl? The time we did museum hopping + Italian dinner, or the one where we had French dinner + jazz bar.

What’s a movie you have seen in the theater more than once? I never do rewatches for movies still in cinemas.

What is the reason you’re still alive? I was stubborn and wanted to see if life would get better; I didn’t want to leave my dogs behind; I didn’t want to miss out on how potentially great and exciting my life could end up being; I didn’t want to cause and leave an even bigger emotional rift on my family.

I’m so happy I stayed.

Have you ever had sex in someone else’s bed/bedroom? Yeah. Not the best decision, and I wouldn’t do it again lol.

Do you ever brush your hair before you go to bed? Sometimes, so that it doesn’t look like a bird’s nest when I wake up the next day.

Have you ever had a dream about sleeping with a celebrity? (You don’t have to give details.) I don’t think so. I have definitely imagined it in...other ways, though.

Has anyone ever told you that they needed you? Do you think they meant it? Both in the superficial and loaded senses, yeah.

How did you feel when you woke up today? What was the first thing you thought about? I felt kind of like shit, just because I slept for only 1.5 hours – my body automatically wakes me up by a certain time, no matter what time I fell asleep. And also because my back and shoulder muscles were killing me with how sore they felt.

Do you still tell your parents that you love them? I show it, but I don’t say it. I’m pretty stingy when it comes to that phrase.

Have you ever said “I love you” to someone you weren’t going out with? Yes? It shouldn’t be limited to people you’re dating? I express it to Anj and Andi all the time.

Have you ever been threatened before? Sure.

Would you date someone with a physical disability? Yes.

Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you? Purely guessing, it’s likely. I’m not updated about her life anymore, though; life has been going on as if she never existed.

The last time you dyed your hair, what color did you dye it? I’ve never had it dyed.

Think of the last time you went out to eat. Who paid? I went out by myself, so I paid.

Do you save at least 15 percent of your income? Yeah. I had a very good saving streak in which I was able to save anywhere around 50-60% every month...and thennnn I became a fan of BTS early this month LOOOOOL so now I’m back to like square three when it comes to my savings haha. Like I still know my limits and when to fucking stop taking out money from my bank account, but I’ve been spending dramatically more than I have been in the last few months.

Do you ever go on Reddit? If so, what are some of your favorite subreddits? I used to go much more regularly, to the point where it was a part of my daily routine. Now I go at least once a month. I usually check out the Ask Reddit (for anecdotes), Today I Learned (for trivia), and GMM subreddits. Sometimes I’ll get on the Squared Circle subreddit as well to be updated on wrestling.

Were you ever a flower girl or ring bearer in anyone’s wedding when you were little? Many times as a flower girl, yeah.

Are your parents in good health? Fortunately, yes.

Have you ever been a caregiver to a sick/disabled relative? Nope.

Is there any type of medicine you can’t take? For what reason? Not that I know of.

Do you have a favorite pair of pajamas? What do they look like? I don’t have pajama sets since I find them too warm.

Do you have any interesting pillow cases? Eh, I don’t think so.

If something on your body hurts, which part is it most likely to be? Shoulder muscles or my lower back.

Are you more afraid of spiders or bees? Bees.

Have you ever worn fake nails? If so, what did the last pair you wore look like? No.

Is Russian or Native American history more interesting to you? Native American.

#survey #surveys

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ihatetaxes99 · 4 years ago

Text

THE YAKUZA AND THE PHOENIX - A BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA FANFICTION

"See, the problem with people like you," Commented the cool, sanitised yet utterly terrifying voice of Kai Chisaki as he kneeled down just in the very corner of the hero's peripheral vision. "Is that you relied far too much on that disgusting disease that plagues every last vein in your Godforsaken body. Maybe if you had just thought ahead a little… Has this illness robbed you of your senses, too? Left you as useless as a newborn? Not that it matters. It's far too late by now for any part of you to begin thinking about what could have been. I mean, just take a look around." He raised one hand to adjust his mask, while using the other to gesture to the scene around the two, one filled with flame and destruction. "If you had thought to bring police, tried to corner me with rifles, well you might have had some sort of success. I'm not stupid enough to resist against live bullets. But no. Your sickening Quirk has left you with such delusions that you thought you could stand to take me on alone."

The young woman's eyes filled with nothing but pure steel as she looked up at him. There was no fear to be found in the glare she delivered the man known as Overhaul, in spite of the terror bubbling in the pits of her stomach, constantly threatening to rise to the top. But she would not let it. Not in front of this Chisaki bastard, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he had won.

"No words?" The man sighed, poking her lightly in the head as if to provoke a reaction. "Like a kid who doesn't get their way. Stubborn to the end. What a pain you are. The worst kinds of people are the ones who don't realize they're infected. They have no true redemption in their future. It's kind of weird when you think about it. What a shame… Not that it's any of my concern. I'm more interested in just why you and your ridiculous headgear have been following me around all day. Do you have an answer for that?" He grabbed her by the back of the hair, and pulled her face up to look at his. "I'd prefer an answer as soon as possible, so I can minimise the amount of contact made with your disgusting body."

There was only one way the woman knew she could respond to this and that way landed directly on the suspected Yakuza's forehead. "Why would I tell you anything, asshole? You won't get anything out of the Phoenix."

The man actually audibly growled, like a feral wolf, as he slammed her head into the asphalt. She felt her nose break as blood streamed from it onto the road. It was probably one of the lesser injuries she had incurred that day. Chisaki got to his feet and produced a spotless handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his face of the hero's saliva. "How childish." His voice was full of pure, deep contempt. "How filthy. Were you never taught manners? Are you mentally deficient? Hmph. Not that I should expect any more from a hero who calls themselves the Phoenix. How cliché." With that, he returned to his kneeling position over her limp body, she practically felt his shadow drop over her as the smell of burning embers filled her nose. Were those sirens she heard? They were faint, but what else could they be? Were they coming in her direction? One ear was completely busted up, so she couldn't tell. Looking up to the man who supposedly went by Overhaul, her peripheral vision severely limited by her complete and total lack of a right eye, she found her mind drifting away to the beginning of the day. When things had seemed oh so simple. When she still had all her limbs and when life had generally been more preferable when contrasted against her current predicament.

When had it all gone so wrong?

---------------------

"So, all I have to do is follow the bugger?" Twenty-three year old Misa Kawajiri enquired into her phone as she took small, meticulous sips from her large Coke, sitting atop a rooftop in the very heart of the city, occasionally reaching into the bag next to her to dig out a fry or two and jam them into her mouth. This was the life, no doubt about it. The young woman, who went by the heroic moniker of the Phoenix, was elated whenever she was sent on surveillance patrols by her agency. Most other pro heroes would consider such work to be beneath them, it mostly consisted of hounding tax evaders, low-rent rank-and-file grunts and conmen, there was almost certainly never a tang of excitement to be found. This was the reason most heroes preferred more interesting work and it was the reason why Kawajiri adored such jobs. For her, it was a chance to slow down, chill out and enjoy life at a bit of a slower pace than usual. She definitely was not above having time to unwind and take things at a more reasonable pace. Of course, today's surveillance was already beginning to sound more interesting. It had started out with monitoring some basement-dwelling Otaku who shared anti-hero sentiments on internet forums, so not exactly a thrill ride there, as evidenced by the fact that Misa had left halfway through to get herself a McDonald's. But her new target, as assigned to her by her employers at the agency…

"His name's Kai Chisaki." Rang the cool, clerical voice of Phoenix's supervisor. "Mid to late twenties, germaphobe. He isn't often seen out and about, instead residing largely in the Shie Hassaikai's compound."

"Hassaiaki?" The hero of the sky's ears perked up at that. "He's Yakuza?"

"As far as we know, yes. We can't trace back any records of a family, except for Kazama Chisaki, his uncle, who was also associated with the organization before his death, although not as a full member."

"Interesting…" The girl pondered. "So, why are we following him, then? The Hassaikai have a good reputation, right?" Her words were slightly muffled as she jammed more fries in her mouth at that moment than was probably reasonable.

"That they do, Phoenix. They're underground. There have been search warrants on the premises before, but nothing suspicious was turned up. They're a Yakuza group in name only right now, nothing worth worrying about. But Chisaki? He's different. You're going to be following him for reasons unrelated to his activity within the clan."

"Oh?" Misa cupped her free ear with her hand so that she could better hear the man on the other end of the phone.

"In short, we have reasons to believe he's been peddling Trigger behind the backs of his bosses. Obviously, I don't need to tell you about that."

She nodded, although that was a tad redundant, considering the voice on the other end could not see her. The experimental drug known for its Quirk-bolstering properties was nothing to trifle with, and it had only grown more popular in recent time. "Why do you think he's doing so?"

"Money, probably. Who knows with these criminal types? The point remains that we have reason to believe he's out and about today. I've sent you an image of him on your phone. Follow him, see what he's up to. When a hermit like him comes out of the woodwork, it can never be good. Not for anybody." And with that, her superior hung up, leaving Misa to her own thoughts. In being left this way, she dug her knees up tucked under her chin and sulked for a bit, confident that nobody could see her act in such a childish manner, taking the odd glance at the image. He was a shockingly handsome young fellow, with sharp yellow eyes, ruffled brown hair and a suit, he looked the part of any well-meaning businessman. The only weird aspect was the steampunk-esque plague doctor mask clamped around his mouth. She shrugged it off as probably having something to do with his Quirk, whatever that was.

"This sucks." She groaned as she reached for her helmet, which mostly served as a fancy shell to hold the visor that shielded her eyes from the wind. "I don't wanna have to pursue Yakuza drug dealers, it's just no good. Give me a fat, tinfoil hat loser ranting about conspiracies any day. Surveillance is supposed to be a break from the hard stuff. But nooo, it just has to be more of it, doesn't it?" She sighed, the air whistling over her lips, as she tossed aside her empty bag. Stretching upwards, allowing her skintight suit to hug her body, she felt her wings extend from her body. It was always a glorious sensation to be felt, the pure rush of it all. She adored it beyond belief, the best part of the job. With a cheeky grin, the young hero spread her arms…

… And let herself fall from the building's roof.

---------------------

Filthy. The very lot of them, surrounded by filth and dirt and all manner of unpleasantries. It was enough to break young Kai Chisaki out in hives, it truly was. Absolutely repulsive. How horrendous to have to walk amongst the common people, all of them no doubt inflicted with that despicable illness. As he made his way down the crowded high street, bumping into the occasional commuter, he felt the irresistible urge to lift up the sleeve of his green coat and scratch at the lumps on his arm. Urgh. The very lot of them, disgusting. He was rapidly remembering why he vastly preferred to remain indoors. And yet, he had to do this. He couldn't entrust mere goons with carrying out the mission, not even the Eight Precepts of Death. This had to be done by him and him alone. He felt the cold metal rub against his stomach from the inside pocket of his coat. What depraved things that guns were. Alas, they were a necessary evil, and still far better than Quirks. As he walked, he had no clue of the eyes following him as he did so. Misa Kawajiri worked fast and had found him in mere minutes. Was he aware of this, he would almost have applauded her.

Key word: Almost.

"He's carrying some sort of briefcase..." The girl noted to herself as she watched him. Luckily, his mask made him very distinctive for anyone who may be looking for him, so she had not had much trouble. "Is that relevant to whatever he's up to?" The questions were racing through her head in spite of her better judgement. She couldn't help but wonder about the good-looking, well-dressed young fellow with Yakuza ties. It was all so odd to her, and new. She didn't often run into anything so… exciting, was probably the word. And normally, Phoenix abhorred exciting. But something about it just seemed alluring. Maybe it was more the man than the danger, who really knew? Certainly not her.

…

DAMN.

Wrapped up in her own little thoughts, Kawajiri had lost Chisaki. He had seeped into the crowd. That wasn't good, not good at all. Not even wasting a second, Misa once again extended her wings and took off into the air, in search of the fellow she was shadowing. Stupid Misa, she cursed herself. How had she been so stupid? She really needed to focus more. Her eyes scanned the surroundings as she flew over an alleyway that served as a gap between two buildings.

And in that very alleyway, Kai Chisaki now stood, facing a triage. They were common street thugs, Overhaul had done his research. Nothing big, they were unheard of, just worthless druggies with not a thing to their names and a whole heap of desperation for power, power that they had no clue what to do with. In other words, the perfect suckers to lure in.

"Gentlemen." The distinguished Yakuza bowed. The goons showed no such respect in return. Was it really so hard to show the baseline politeness required of a person? These kinds of people pissed him off the most. Fortunately, the mask obstructed his grimace as he set the silver case on the ground and entered in a combination. A few seconds passed and then it clicked open. "Here's your bloody Trigger. Ten vials, enough to give the three of you a bolster in your path- In your Quirks for up to forty-eight hours. If you have any questions, I would advise you ask now."

The thugs all shared looks with one another. They appeared satisfied at the very least, yet the one in the middle, a big guy with muscles to rival All Might- Well, the former All Might- seemed incredulous to some degree.

"So, what yer tellin' us, Chisaki-"

"I would prefer if you called me Overhaul."

"-Right. Sorry." His accent was just thick enough to get under the Yakuza's skin. "Yer sayin' that we don' hafta pay for any of this?"

To this, Kai shrugged. "Consider it a first-time buyer's guarantee. If you want more later down the line, that's when you'll have to start paying me. Otherwise, take it." He kicked the briefcase, sending it sliding towards the men. "It's all yours." For a moment, it seemed like the huge guy was about to protest, but at looking at the vials, his greed got the better of him, and he allowed a wide grin to overcome his face, no doubt imagining what his improved Quirk would be like. Disgusting animal.

"Pleasure doin' business with ya, Mr. Overhaul." He gloated as he picked up the case, his cronies hovering around him as they sneaked looks at the drug. Now was probably the best time to strike, while they were blinded by their own pathetic delusions of grandeur.

"Likewise." Chisaki responded, reaching into his coat, as if trying to find a cigarette. "Say, you three, have you ever wondered what society would be like without Quirks? How far we could have advanced by now if we hadn't had to restart everything to accommodate the idea of superpowers?" The men stared at him like he was mad, which was to be expected. "It's just something I've been thinking about." He admitted as he pulled the gun from his coat and aimed it squarely at the large man's head. "Let's test it out. You'll survive, of course."

"What the fuck?" The scumbag growled as he dropped the case in shock. "You pullin' a gun on us? Guess what, you skinny prick? It's three on one. Shoulda thought about that before pullin' a betrayal!"

"Probably." Kai noted nonchalantly as he took aim and fired.

The bullet ricocheted up against a wall in the alley as the metallic weapon was knocked from his hand by a kick. And not a kick from one of the steroided-up goons. No, one aimed from above.

"Looks like I caught you boys in the act." Phoenix grinned as she stood, legs firmly apart, eying up Kai. "Trying to betray the dudes you're selling drugs to really isn't a great idea, I must add."

…

Filthy…

Sickening….

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE??!!" Kai Chisaki screamed, his voice carrying high up into the sky as he stared down the hero, his pupils small and mad in their sockets. "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME??!! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU??!!" He was completely enraged, sweat pouring from his forehead as he grasped at his hair. "DISGUSTING, DISGUSTING, DISGUSTING!!" He appeared to be on the receiving end of a full-on breakdown. All this over being kicked in the hand? No, it couldn't just be that. Already, the receivers of the Trigger had fled, stolen briefcase in hand. It really had been their lucky day.

"Woah, calm down, Chisaki-"

"Who gave you the right to call me that?!" He demanded, his voice slightly softer now. "And do you have any idea how difficult those bullets were to manufacture? I simply cannot afford to waste them!" Turning his back on Kawajiri, he picked up the gun, examining it for damages, and then wiped it clean with his white surgical gloves.

"Hey, creep! Stay right where you are!" Misa was petrified. She truly was. Something about this guy just was not right at all. She had been told he was a major germaphobe, but was it this bad? Enough to push him into insanity at a moment's touch? "You're under arrest for possession distribution of illegal narcotics." She was basically reading off the rulebook, saying what she was supposed to say in such situations. But nothing about this felt normal. Why was he so focused on the gun? "Stand down and await for police transport."

"You think I would heed such commands from a filthy piece of scum like yourself?" Suddenly, Kai was cool, clinical, yet again as he calmly pointed the gun in her direction. Phoenix nearly felt her heart stop. "Maybe you'll make a better test subject." His finger tightened on the trigger of the handgun. Misa had no time to think, no time to plan.

She simply ran forwards, charging the villain as he steadied his aim. Another loud bang echoed from the gun. She felt it tear her suit as it whizzed past her, but she managed to just barely evade it. Now, she was too full of adrenaline to stop, as she ploughed towards Chisaki. As she drew closer, she reached out, grabbing for his arm… She had to restrain him and fast.

"DON'T LAY YOUR FILTH-ENCRUSTED FINGERS ON ME FOR EVEN A SECOND!!" Overhaul yelled, back to unconcealed rage, as he slammed his hand down onto the ground. From nowhere, burst large columns of rock from beneath the concrete, sending the heroine flying back a few inches and separating the two.

"Woah..." Was this his Quirk? She hadn't seen anything like it before. The rock wall stretched all the way up, totally shielding the Yakuza from her. It twisted up into the blue sky, as far as the eye could see. And then, she heard his voice, once again calm, from the other side.

"You made me use my Quirk." The man stated. "I hate this thing, but you left me with no other option. For that, I truly do feel some sort of hatred for you. So, I suppose I really feel no guilt in using you as my little guinea pig." Then, he fell silent again, as Phoenix paced around, trying to look for some sort of opening in the wall. Suddenly, she heard a rush of wind behind her and snapped around her head just fast enough to see Overhaul rushing at her. Now, Kawajiri had no clue just what his Quirk did yet, but she figured letting him touch her was a bad idea, so she took off into the air, hovering out of his reach.

"So, a flight Quirk, eh?" Chisaki sighed. His hair was ruffled, the purple fur on his coat torn in places and his bleach white tie flicking wildly with the motion from his rapid movements. "I must admit, I've never been great with moving targets." Once again, the pistol was out, pointed at her. No, she shouldn't panic. Judging from earlier, whatever bullets he loaded the thing with were very precious and so, he wouldn't waste them unless he knew there was a guaranteed chance of hitting her. She was safe for now.

She realized she had been foolish to think that even as the spiked column of rock dug itself up from the ground and impaled her right through the stomach, sending her back, right out of the alley and into the streets outside. She heard a scream as she slammed into a car, feeling the metal crunch behind her. Her vision was hazy, like that of a drunk, but she could still make out the suited villain walking slowly towards her as civilians fled the area. Well, all except for one man, who clearly realized that Kai was up to no good and tried to charge him. Without even looking in his direction, his gaze fixed on Misa, Overhaul's arm made contact with the brave man's chest and he exploded into nothingness.

"What the hell?!" Phoenix yelled. She felt like throwing up at the man's remains splattered the asphalt So this Quirk… It could erect pillars of rock, reduce humans to nothing, what was it exactly? She couldn't even think straight in her current state to try to decipher the answer.

"Isn't it kind of weird how people always try to act the hero? I've noticed that. I swear, this world has been poisoned beyond belief. Can I even cure it? Is that possible?" She felt cold metal as the bastard jammed the gun into her gaping mouth. "All I know is that I can try my very best. Starting here. You'll be my first patient, my girl. The first to be cured."

"Bite me." She hissed as she aimed a kick at his side, which somehow connected, winding the Yakuza just long enough for Misa to stagger to her feet. It felt like she had multiple broken ribs. Those could wait. "I think I get your shtick now. You think Quirks are disgusting or something, right? Yeah, just like any of those Creature Rejection Clan nutjobs. But you think you can bring an end to them, right?" She coughed up some blood onto her fist as she held Chisaki's gaze. "Well, think again, dickwad. You really think that you're some great saviour. I dunno what you have planned, but it sure as hell won't be anything that won't see you crushed like the pathetic little man you are!" And with that, she took flight again, aiming a kick at his head.

Before she even knew it, another column had travelled right through her left eye with a fleshy squealtch, blood coating the rock as she hurtled backwards, her fall stopped by a large vehicle that the rock pinned her to.

"Jesus… That it?" She spat, as Kai approached her yet again, his eyebrows raised in amusement. Then, he stepped backwards. Then again. Then, he spun around and started walking away. Misa was completely taken aback. "What?! You just leaving, you limp-dicked bastard? That ain't how a saviour acts, is it? Running away from a fight?" Her attempts at provocation did nothing to stop him and when the young woman tilted her head just a little, she saw why.

"Ah-" She started, before the oil tanker she had been pinned to exploded. The shockwave could be felt for blocks to come, glass shattered from the skyscrapers above as the world was thrown upside down. Everything went white for Misa Kawajiri, then black.

---------------------

Damn. That really had escalated quickly. And now, the pro hero lay, amongst the rubble, with one eye, a busted ear, no legs and a stump of an arm. The Yakuza stood above her.

"I'll be willing to overlook your blatant lack of manners." Overhaul growled as he resumed his kneeling position. "In fact, I'll let you be saved. I'll be the one to save you. Isn't that something? A sickening power-infected freak like you, given a second chance by a humble Yakuza. And after everything you've done to me. You have been one hell of an annoyance. But, I guess you'll have started to make it up to me if Eri's little bullets end up working." The girl felt metal press into her side. Why was he so eager to shoot her? It must have something to do with whatever he was planning. The last thing Misa Kawajiri heard was the crack of a gunshot, the last thing she felt was the pain of the bullet entering her body, and then, she fell still. A second or two passed before Kai hovered his hand over her head.

"All going well, you have been deprived of your filthy Quirk." He noted, more to himself as the hero was now deeply unconscious. "Now, just to fix you up." He pushed his hand down on her and the woman's body blew apart in a spectacular show of blood and gore. Just a few seconds later, it reassembled, all limbs, eyes and anything else re-attached. With a satisfied nod, the man got to his feet.

"You'll live peacefully for the rest of your days." He told her, turning his back on her and walking away from the destruction that lay sprawled out like the play area of a particularly deranged and angry child, as if it had just been another day at the office, adjusting his tie. "No Quirk, no heroics, no excitement. I hope you're cut out for a desk job, Phoenix. It's all you have in your future. You're welcome."

#bnha manga #bnha #bnha oc #kai chisaki #Overhaul #drama #fanfiction #anime #shie hassaikai #non romantic

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snezfics-n-shit · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 25: Cranky

Fandom: Ace Attorney

Characters: Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright, Trucy Wright, Athena Cykes, Apollo Justice

Notes: Post-DD. Established married!Wrightworth because what else did you expect? Miles has been taking time out of his schedule to care for the employees of the Wright Anything Agency after a particularly brutal cold season. He’s been doing great, he’ll swear on his life. The patience of a saint, that’s Miles Edgeworth for you. He is totally not going to completely lose it.

He couldn’t believe it. For the first time this week, Miles didn’t have to scrape perfectly decent breakfast, breakfast he made, into the garbage. He could have sworn it was proper etiquette for guests he and his husband so graciously welcomed in their home to at least try to clean their plates.

“They live alone, babe. It’ll do them good for us to extend some hospitality,” he remembered Phoenix saying. At first, Miles didn’t mind at all. He may not have been any Florence Nightingale, but he saw merit in caring for his husband’s colleagues while they were unwell. He didn’t even complain when the two infected his husband with a cold that reduced his voice to a hoarse crackle and kept Miles awake with hours of coughing and sneezing assaulting his ears. No, no. It was no trouble at all, really.

He could have sworn when he first welcomed Apollo and Athena as guests, he was up for anything they asked for. He could prepare soup with his eyes closed, and by the second day of Phoenix’s cold, Miles was very tempted to do so just so he could say he got something resembling sleep. As the number of hands helping him dwindled to zero, Miles’s energy was wearing a little thin. Just a little thin, though, not too much at all.

Then there was the texting. Since Miles was the only one in the house whose voice was audible, his cell phone was constantly blowing up with short, grammatically lacking text messages. Hardly any of them allowed him time to fulfill one person’s request without being bombarded with other unrelated tasks they expected of him. He could make tea and he could check pages of calculus homework, but not simultaneously; there was only one of him. He would do it again, though, really. Go ahead, ask him to care for ten sick people, and for a month this time. Just direct a hospital’s worth of patients to his house, why don’t you?

Oh, no, Miles wasn’t losing his patience at all. He was mature and collected, so he brought anything his family and guests asked for without a complaint. That was true, wasn’t it? Or did thoughts to himself about how tired he was getting from running around the house grabbing whatever anyone wanted count? He was doing so well the first three days of the arrangement, so surely at the tail end of the week his eyes shouldn’t be twitching from exhaustion he was most definitely not feeling.

“I’m really happy to finally taste your cooking, Mr. Edgeworth.” Athena’s recovered voice startled Miles. He had almost forgotten more people could speak than just him. “Trucy kept telling me you were a really good cook, and I’m definitely not disappointed.” Something about that felt underhanded, Miles was sure of it. She was doubting his skills as a cook, wasn’t she?

“You’ve been really good to us, Papa.” Trucy smiled. “Thank you so much!” Of course Trucy was the first to verbally thank him for his efforts. She was taught manners and was clearly not raised in a barn. And no, Apollo, emojis and ‘memes’ did not count.

“You’re very,” Miles heard his voice crack and cleared his throat, “you’re very welcome, Trucy.”

“Yeah, thank you so much, hon.” Phoenix was the second person Miles could count on for gratitude. What Miles really wanted to hear, however, was an apology for all the sleep he lost thanks to Phoenix’s poor volume control late at night. There was always something, be it sniffling, sneezing, or coughing that would start just as Miles thought he finally had some peace and quiet.

“Thanks.” Apollo said nothing besides that and continued eating the last of his toast. What a wordsmith, wasn’t he? A real Shakespeare.

“You’re both quite welcome as well.” Miles’s nose twitched ever so slightly as he spoke. “Are you all finished? I’d like to,” he cleared his throat again, “clean the dishes soon.” He knew no one would bother helping him with the task. They all had much more important things to do like watch television or play games on their phones.

Just as he thought, all responses were a chorus of confirming they were finished eating and not a single offer to help. Despite the fact they were all clearly more than ready to be back on their feet, Miles was on his own in carrying the pile of dishes to the counter by the sink. None of the dishes were his. He wasn’t hungry, and the lord knew he wasn’t about to be a hypocrite by committing the horrid act of wasting food. He would never be so ungrateful, so wasteful, so--

“Oh, I’d actually like a refill of orange juice.” Apollo asked, just as he always did since he arrived last Thursday.

“Your legs aren’t broken.” Miles snapped without even thinking about what he had just said.

“Woah, where did that come from?” Athena was taken aback by Miles’s harsh tone.

“YEAH, SOMEONE’S CRANKY!” Widget blurted in its usual loud and robotic tone, further irritating Miles.

“Would you mind telling that thing to put a sock in it?” Miles clenched his teeth, becoming more frustrated when Phoenix stopped him from reaching for his dishwashing gloves.

“Hey, if something’s bothering you, just tell us.” Phoenix wanted to de-escalate as well as he could. “Did something happen at work?”

“I wouldn’t know, Phoenix. I haven’t been in the office all week!” Miles was so caught up in the outburst he failed to hear how hoarse he sounded. He hardly thought anything when the strain caused him to cough.

“Oh, babe.” Phoenix’s expression softened. “You’re not feeling well, are you?” He kissed his husband’s forehead. “Mm, you’re warm, too.”

“Please, not in front of guests. Not to mention-- mention, hhh…” Miles turned away from Phoenix’s concerned gaze. “Hh’uurrssSHH” He sneezed in his elbow, leaving a damp spot on his pink pajama sleeve. He instinctively pressed a hand under his running nose, not doing anything to get Phoenix off his back. He wasn’t even done yet. “Hu’RRsshhooh! HH’RSSHOOH!” How disgusting.

“We can do the dishes, Papa!” Trucy offered. She looked at Apollo and Athena, who both nodded in agreement. “It’s only right to return the favor.” What a sweetheart she was, absolutely her father’s daughter.

“You’re going back to bed.” Phoenix put his head on Miles’s shoulder and embraced him from behind. “We’re not going to let you lift a finger.”

Miles found himself spacing out for the duration of Phoenix ushering him to bed. He really was out of sorts, wasn’t he? He couldn’t even remember stepping out of the kitchen. It was almost dreamlike to find himself bundled up in bed.

“Are you okay?” Phoenix waved his hand in front of Miles’s face. “It was way too easy to get you into bed and you haven’t said anything since we were in the kitchen.” He gently took Miles’s glasses and set them aside.

“Of course I’b dot okay.” Miles grumbled, turning on his right side. “I haved’t slept ihd days, we have the worst house guests I’ve ever had the displeasure of beetig, ahd by owd husbahd wod’t eved let be wash the dishes.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine this morning.” Phoenix brushed Miles’s hair with his fingers. “My poor sick grouch of a husband.” He cooed.

“I’b dot a grouch.” Miles frowned, hardly supporting his claim.

“What would you call yourself, then?” Phoenix made a small hum. “With how you acted in the kitchen, I wouldn’t be surprised if you poked your head out of a trashcan and told us to scram.”

“I wasd’t by best, was I?” Miles knew that was the understatement of the year. That tickle in his throat that pestered him, admittedly since he went to bed last night, finally became a full-fledged cough. “I feel awful.” He croaked.

“I know, babe.” Phoenix sighed. “It’s our turn to take care of you, now. You did so much all by yourself, we’re gonna show you how grateful we are. You’ll even have Apollo and Athena to-”

“Doh.” Miles said firmly. “They’re goi’g hobe. Today.”

“Alright, alright. Then it’ll be just me and Trucy.”

“That’s better.”

Phoenix helped Miles sit up so he could fluff the pillow behind him. He gave a sympathetic smile as he listened to Miles’s thick, hardly effective sniffling.

“You must be so tired.” Phoenix let Miles lie back down. “I’m sorry if I kept you up all night.”

“I ab ahd you did.” Miles confirmed flatly.

Miles just closed his eyes for a moment, only to be disturbed by something poking into his mouth. He made a soft grunt, dismissing it until that horrible beeping had him opening his eyes again. He watched a blurry figure resembling Phoenix walk outside his field of vision, only for the figure to return a few moments later. He felt something cold and damp rest on his forehead and flinched from the dramatic contrast in temperature.

“Is it too cold?” Phoenix’s voice was muffled by Miles’s congestion-affected hearing. When Miles shook his head in response, Phoenix gave a sympathetic smile and gently adjusted the cool compress in place. He looked over at the doorway and spotted Athena and Apollo watching from outside the room. He mouthed something along the lines of ‘he’s resting.’

“I should apologize.” Miles said groggily. “The way I acted was terribly rude.”

“Hey, hey.” Phoenix shushed his husband softly. “You weren’t feeling like yourself this morning. Athena and Apollo aren’t strangers, and Trucy and I definitely know you wouldn’t act like that on a regular basis.” He kissed his warm cheek. “You were just a little cranky, is all.”

“That’s dot ad excuse.” Miles closed his eyes again. “It was udcalled for.”

"Mr. Edgeworth?" Athena couldn't help but speak up. "We accept your apology, but the boss is right. We know you don't always act like that."

"You were pretty rude." Apollo muttered just before Athena gave him a light nudge with her elbow. "But, uh," he scratched the back of his head, "we probably deserved it."

Miles refused to have a serious discussion sounding like he did, so he yanked about five or six tissues from the end table tissue box. The amount seemed to be just enough by the time he was done. He checked the remaining contents of the box before tossing the used tissues in the trash bin.

“No one deserved the harsh words I used.” What Miles’s voice lost in congestion was made up for in hoarseness. “It wasn’t right.”

“You can’t be on model behavior all the time, hon.” Phoenix massaged Miles’s hand with his thumb. He noticed Miles starting to look annoyed again. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re too nice about this.” Miles grumbled. His mood wasn’t completely improved. He would come up with more excuses to wallow in excess guilt if he wasn’t so, so very tired.

The next thing the trio of lawyers heard from him was one of his ‘world famous’ snores, as Phoenix jokingly described them when Miles wasn’t in the room. Miles was completely out cold when Trucy tiptoed in, intending on telling him the dishes were clean and put away.

“Papa’s asleep?” Trucy whispered and Phoenix answered with a nod. “Don’t worry,” she directed her assurance to Apollo and Athena, “he’ll be in a better mood when he wakes up, I promise.”

. . .

It was two in the afternoon when Miles finally woke up. All built up grumpiness washed away in his sleep and with a clear head, he felt as if he were in good enough shape to climb out of bed and see if his family needed anything. Just as he reached for his glasses, he found an envelope that wasn’t there before. It wasn’t sealed, so the card inside slid out easily into his hand.

The card was handmade, covered in variations of ‘Thank You’ written in different colored pencils. It was easy to tell whose message was whose, especially Athena’s multilingual expressions of gratitude and Phoenix’s barely legible handwriting. Miles felt himself tear up a little, not noticing Phoenix and Trucy standing by the bedroom doorway.

“We thought you’d appreciate that.” Phoenix was holding a steaming mug of tea, likely made just recently. He either had very strong husband intuition or just planned on waking Miles up when it was ready. He took a couple tissues from the box on the end table to use as a makeshift coaster to set the mug down on. “You should also know our guests left today as promised.”

“Before they left, we all made that card.” Trucy had her hands behind her back. “It was Polly’s idea!”

So Apollo was grateful after all. No, no. Miles wasn’t going to let himself fall back into that sort of attitude.

“We were going to make you soup but we didn’t know for sure if you would be hungry.” Phoenix handed the mug over to Miles, who accepted it gratefully. He watched Miles take a moment to inhale the steam with that smile he always had whenever Phoenix made him tea. There was a quality in Phoenix’s brews that Miles could never replicate no matter how hard he tried. “I’m glad to see you smiling again.”

“I think tea will suffice, thank you.” Miles’s voice was in worse shape than before. If this was how he sounded the first day into this cold, he wasn’t at all looking forward to the upcoming days that would surely go downhill from here. “I would hate to waste any of your cooking.”

“Oh yeah,” Phoenix chuckled nervously, “sorry about all that food you had to throw out. While you were sleeping, Trucy and I realized that must have bothered you a lot.” Indeed it did, as ashamed as Miles now felt for letting it get to him.

“I accept your apology,” Miles took a sip from the mug, “if only because you make a wonderful cup of tea.” He laughed briefly, causing a vibrating sensation in his chest that made him need to cough.

“Oh! Right!” Trucy presented what she had been hiding behind her back: a brand new jar of vapor rub. “We picked this up today! Do you want to put this on yourself or should Daddy do it?”

“I think I can do this myself.” Miles set down the mug so he could take the jar. He had just started dating Phoenix when he first experienced the substance’s decongestant properties. Phoenix applied it the first few times, but Miles was never a fan of how Phoenix knew exactly what parts of his chest were ticklish. He did, however, like how Phoenix was not at all judgmental about his unfamiliarity with the product.

“I did say you wouldn’t be lifting a finger.” Phoenix ruffled his husband’s hair. “I’m kidding, of course. Just know if there’s anything you need, you say the word and we’ll get it for you.”

“And I would like you to know,” Miles kissed Phoenix’s cheek, “if I’m too demanding, just tell me.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Phoenix was just going to pretend he didn’t see Miles’s devilish smirk just then.

#whumptober #whumptober 2020 #sickfic whumptober alt #sneezing #snez #snz #sneeze kink #snez attorney #this went through so many revisions my brain hurts lol

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sinisteredgirl · 5 years ago

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Reply: 1988

It’s actually been awhile since I picked up any drama to watch--almost two years, if I’m not mistaken (I was awfully busy studying for a major exam last year and a few splashes of life’s drama came and went.) I began watching dramas again because of the toxicity of my work--I desperately needed something to unwind to, and when I asked my friend for some recommendations, she raved this drama to me. And so here we are.

I must say, it is one of my best and worst decisions as of late. Best in a sense that I got what I was looking for: a good show that kept me enthralled for the most parts (like 99% of it) with its captivating characters. Worst in a sense that it some parts of the show actually stressed me out instead of de-stressing me (lol).

Reply: 1988 follows the story of five childhood friends and their families who all lived in the same street (Ssangmundong, Seoul). It is of course set in 1988--at the cusp of the digital revolution, of political unrest, and of changing times in Korea. In a sense, the story really is as simple as that: a look into the lives of five rowdy kids as they tackle the challenges of growing up. But the magic of the show is how it makes the viewers feel like it’s more than that; it’s an immersion to their neighborhood and to their intimate and interconnected lives.

Romance actually takes a backseat here as Family is the main theme of the show. The drama is quick to show that the family is not only limited to the nuclear one, but extends to the whole community. Rather than neighbors, the whole street feels like one big family. And it’s really heartwarming.

For me, the most outstanding quality of the drama is how it presented its vast array of characters. If you check the second poster above, you’d notice just how many characters there are--and the said poster doesn’t even include secondary characters like the school friends of lead girl! But the show has its way of making you feel invested in each and every character. Each person feels so nuanced and deep that by the end of the show, my heart rooted for all of their own happy endings, no matter how small or insignificant their roles may be. It’s amazing, really.

Even if the entire cast is beautifully written, there are stand-outs that deserve a separate recognition. I love, love, love the Ssangmundong-five (Deok-Sun, Dong-Ryong, Taek, Jung-Hwan, and Sun-Woo), but the characters of Deok-Sun, Jung-Hwan, and Dong-Ryong are my absolute faves. I also adore the three ahjummas that were more sisters than neighbors, but the character of Ra Mi-Ran really is a scene-stealer in all of her moments.

The music is of course in line with the theme and almost all of the singles are 1980s throwbacks or have that tune of nostalgia in them. The background instrumentals are not that memorable, except for a few tracks (and that goat sfx).

Now, for the question that almost every viewer of Reply: 1988 is asked: Team Taek or Team Jung-Hwan?

Oh boy, this is quite a discussion, and I’ll try to be brief. But from the start until the very end, I am Team Jung-Hwan.

This is not to say that I hated the endgame pair (Deok-Sun and Taek)--I’m okay with them, and I completely understand how Deok-Sun ended up with him. In fact, in a tragic, heartbreaking way I like what the character of Jung-Hwan is supposed to represent: the hesitations and fears of our youth.

But what made me root for Jung-Hwan until the very end is the writing of the show itself and the way Ryu Jun Yeol masterfully portrayed his character. Arguably, of the SSangmundong-five, he has the second most screentime (next to Deok-Sun). As such, he is one of the most nuanced, most intricately-written characters in the show. By the time the love triangle was presented, I was already completely, deeply in love with him. The show did such a good job fleshing out not only his deep-seated love for Deok-Sun but also his touching sweetness for his family and his astounding selflessness. It’s just... wow.

For me, Jung-Hwan and Deok-Sun complemented each other more than anyone else. The former didn’t know how to properly express his emotions while the latter wore her heart on her sleeve; Jung-Hwan’s cold and careful demeanor as against Deok-Sun’s warm and impulsive personality; and Jung-Hwan’s own hesitations and cowardice countermanded by Deok-Sun’s unrelenting courage to put herself out there.

Also, the chemistry between Deok-Sun and Jung-hwan felt more palpable and more real (and it must have been, considering that Ryu Jun Yeol and Hyeri has been dating since the end of the show). Their constant bickering never fail to make me laugh and their attempts to convey their affections to each other made me flail like there’s no tomorrow. And I like the fact that even after the resolution of the love triangle in favor of Taek, the show still presented some kind of parallelism between Deok-Sun and Jung-Hwan in their efforts to comfort their parents (Ep. 19). (Plus, on a more shallow note, wouldn’t it be sweet that if Jung-Hwan and Deok-Sun marry, the three main families will be connected through marriage? lol)

In a weird way, I guess the show really set them up to be the lovers that could have been (or should have been), but were not meant to be. I mean for 18 whole episodes, we saw Jung-Hwan’s love for Deok-Sun so it was difficult for me not to root for him. It’s funny though; there are lots of compilations in Youtube of Deok-Sun and Jung-Hwan’s moments made by TvN itself, and one of those featured a ‘what-if’ scenario where the two became the endgame of sorts.

(A discussion on Deok-Sun’s love life triggers one of my very few complaints on the show. I will not extensively write it here, and I believe others have done a better job of detailing the same complaint, but suffice it to say that I would have appreciated it more if Deok-Sun was given more agency in her love life, sort of like a follow-through on what Dong-Ryong said to her.)

Again, this is just my personal view. The friend who introduced me to this drama is actually a Team Taek person, and we have had good conversations about it. So whether you’re Team Taek or Team Jung Hwan, it’s all good.

To sum it all up, this is one of those gems that is truly worth its hype. The long episodes may look daunting at first, but once you start it, you will definitely get sucked in for the ride.

#Reply: 1988 #Reply 1988 #Answer Me 1988

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ingek73 · 4 years ago

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So Now Trump Has Earned Your Trust? A Note of Covid Caution from Michael Moore....

There is one absolute truth about Trump: He is a consistent, absolute, unrelenting, fearless, and professional liar. A serial liar. A factually proven liar. How many lies now has the Washington Post proven in these four years? 25,000? A lie at least twice during every waking hour? Think of all the bad people you’ve known in your life. Even the worst ones you couldn’t say that about.

So why on earth would we believe him today? Has he earned your trust now? No. Yet, we’re decent enough to not want him to be sick, to wish him well, and maybe just this once give him the benefit of the doubt because why would he lie about this?

That’s not the question. The question we — and yes, I mean you, too, the media — the only question we really need to be asking is this: Why would Trump all of a sudden just start telling the truth?

All of you, my friends, have been saying for four years, “Trump’s a liar! Trump is a liar!” Why would you believe him now? He very well may have COVID-19. In fact, let’s assume he does. Of course he has it! Does that make him not Trump? I’m certain Mussolini came down with the flu one time. Pinochet and Franco would catch a cold every now and then. Margaret Thatcher must have had a migraine or two. None of them suddenly became nice or did good things - or started telling the truth - because they got sick. Jesse Helms with a runny nose was still Jesse Helms.

But Trump has a history of lying about his health. His longtime New York doctor, Dr. Bornstein, admitted a few years ago that Trump dictated his perfect “doctor’s letter” during the 2016 campaign. Then there was the White House doctor who said Trump could live “200 years!” What about his lying about that emergency trip to Walter Reed “to complete his physical?” Trump also has a history of lying about his opponents’ health (like when Hillary fell ill at the 9/11 remembrance ceremony, or what he’s now been saying about Biden’s health).

So we must be skeptical. We must always remain skeptical when it comes to Trump. He may have it. But it’s also possible he’s lying. That’s just a fact.

But why would he lie about this? What would he have to gain? I mean, it looks bad that he’s called it a hoax for seven months, and he totally mismanaged the government response — and now he has it? Doesn’t it look terrible that he’s spent months downplaying wearing masks, dismissing social distancing, holding large rallies filled with elderly, at-risk supporters and even killing his own supporters like Herman Cain? And doesn’t this go against his brand of always projecting (and exaggerating) his own strength, his health, his genetics, his virility? Yes. This is all true. He would not want to admit he‘s come down with a hoax.

But — he’s losing the election. And he knows it. It’s not 2016. He was hated in 2016, but he’s hated even more now. Millions of Americans are ON FIRE and on the verge of serving him up a major league ass-whooping and a record landslide defeat.

So he needs - badly - to totally change the conversation about this campaign.

And he just has.

Democrats, liberals, the media and others have always been wrong to simply treat him as a buffoon and a dummy and a jackass. Yes, he is all those things. But he’s also canny. He’s clever. He outfoxed Comey. He outfoxed Mueller. He outfoxed 20 Republicans in the GOP primary and then did the same to the Democrats, winning the White House despite receiving fewer votes than his opponent. He’s an evil genius and I raise the possibility of him lying about having COVID-19 to prepare us and counteract his game. He knows being sick tends to gain one sympathy. He’s not above weaponizing this.

He’s been lying about how soon a vaccine will be ready. What better way to hammer home that lie then by directing a saga in the final weeks before the election that culminates in the release of this “vaccine.”

The NY Times tax story was horrible for him. As was The Atlantic story about him calling American troops losers and suckers. There are a dozen more of these stories coming in October. Just last night, The New Yorker detailed how his campaign finance director (and Don Jr’s girlfriend) was fired from Fox News for....well...behaving like a typical Fox News host by sexually harassing her assistant and forcing Fox to pay a $4 million settlement to that assistant due to her behavior. And also, last night, there was CNN playing an audio recording of Melania talking shit about children separated from their parents at the border — AND talking shit about Christmas. Christmas!

These stories are about to be a daily occurrence. However, they may get less airtime and be less damaging since Trump and FLOTUS are now “sick” and supposed to be in our thoughts and prayers.

But most dangerously, HE MAY USE THIS TO PUSH FOR DELAYING/POSTPONING THE ELECTION. The constitution does not allow for this, but he doesn’t give a f*ck about the constitution. He and his thug Attorney General Barr have no shame and will stop at nothing to stay in power. He may even use this as an excuse for losing.

Then there’s this:

He may use his Covid as a pretext to drop out of the race and move Pence to the top of the ticket. Pence would temporarily become President, and then Pence could pre-emptively pardon Trump for all of his crimes.

Again, though, he may have COVID. He probably does. But never, ever, ever take him at his word and never, ever, ever underestimate his survival skills or the depths of his deception or his evil.

What can YOU do today? Make your plan to vote and stick to it. Question everything. And if you and I are finally convinced he has it, do NOT sit silent as he schemes how to use this illness for his benefit.

Finally, on a personal note: Stay alive Mr. President. Your exit from public life must happen in the right and decent way. You have many years to live. You have a child to raise. Grandchildren who need you. A base that loves you. And the families of nearly the quarter-million dead who might be alive today had you done your job, had you cared, had you not played politics with people's lives. Over 200,000 lost souls — and YOU KNEW! You told Woodward in February it was a plague. 200,000 dead because of decisions you made, because you denigrated science and ignored the doctors.

I’m certain you’re listening to them now.

Covid must not remove you. That’s our job. With a pen and a ballot.

#michael moore #us elections 2020

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xerxia31 · 5 years ago

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Fanfic Stats Tag Game

My darling friends @mega-aulover and @hutchhitched tagged me for this. For those of you who don’t know me well, I’m a statistician in my real life, so this is a totally fun meme :D And yes, I do keep spreadsheets of my stories, doesn’t everyone? How else can you make fun graphs?

Author Name: xerxia (or xerxia31)

Fandoms You Write For: The Hunger Games (Everlark). I have dabbled in other fandoms, but this is my main fandom and main OTP

Where You Post: AO3, FFN (though I don’t post everything there) & Tumblr

Most Popular One-Shot: On Tumblr, I think it’s The B Word. On AO3, it’s definitely Control, which makes me laugh because that one went over like a lead balloon on the hellsite. I think AO3 likes the porny stuff more than Tumblr

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: Inevitability.

Favourite Story You Wrote: I love all of my babies, but For Unto Us is the one I re-read the most often.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: Control, and for good reason, it’s edgy (though honestly, not as edgy as the messages I got afterwards suggested, a little light BDSM with full consent and aftercare, it’s pretty tame in the grand scheme of things)

How Do You Choose Your Titles: You have no idea how many of the WIPs in my drafts folder are called “Untitled Document”. I am the absolute worst for titles. Often, I just pick a single word that sort of vaguely represents the story.

Do You Outline: Not really, at least, not in a structured way. At the bottom of each document I keep notes, bits of dialogue, etc, that I incorporate as I get to that section, but I don’t usually outline in a meaningful way. For multi chapter fics though, I do timeline, so I can keep track of where I am in the storyline.

How many of your stories are…

Complete: 143. Yup, ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-THREE. That’s obscene. However, that includes drabbles (in AO3, I stick most of my unrelated drabbles in a single ‘story’ called Dispatches from District 12, because it would drive me mental if they were all loose and disorganized in AO3s ‘can’t sort alphabetically’ system. Yup, I’m a little bit AR about organization. It’s the statistician in me.)

In-Progress: Yeah, this is a bit embarrassing. I have 10 WIPs where at least one part has already been published, and another 11 that live only in draft form. Yipes. That sounds even worse when I lay it out like that. Bring on more writing sprints!

Coming Soon: Between now and the end of the year, I’m hoping to publish: part 2 of The Interview, part 2 of Unconfessed, chapter 6 of The Naughty List, and a couple holiday-themed drabbles and ficlets I’m playing with.

Next year, I’ll be concentrating on By The River, which is 90% complete but kind of fell apart in the editing. But I hate having 50,000 words just sitting there, yelling at me. As well, an untitled environmentally-themed story (working title: “Unititled Document”, LOL, actually it’s called Narnia in my docs) that I have tons and tons of ideas for.

Do You Accept Prompts: Definitely, though I am slow as mole-asses at getting to them :) In particular, if you have fun winter/Christmas prompts please send them my way!

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: The one I referenced above, working title Narnia (obviously once it’s done it’ll have a real title, probably a single word from somewhere in the doc, like ‘time’ or ‘said’ ;) )

Tag Five Fanfic Authors: Most people have probably already played, I’m always a little late to the game, so ignore me if I’m duplicating... @louezem, @wendywobbles, @notanislander, @burkygirl and @historywriter2007

#memes

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tortoisesshells · 5 years ago

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Top Five Emotionally Stunted Fictional Men. ;)

plot twist - they’re all emotionally stunted because Western society discourages men from gaining any sort of emotional fluency, and thus teaches them to outsource all of their emotional labor onto their significant others and/or women. in this essay, i will …

- Henry Hopkins (Mercy Street) Perhaps not the original, but definitely the man of the hour. Bonus points for actually apparently being good at his job, which has a lot to do with managing or helping with other people’s emotions! I relate, on a deep and spiritual level, to characters who are good at giving advice but completely unable to take a dose of their own medicine. (don’t you say a word, @theonlyredcar)

- Horatio Hornblower (the Hornblower series) I go back and forth on this. Is Hornblower emotionally stunted? Or has he just buried any sort of emotions and willingness to deal with them in a responsible fashion so deep that it’s functionally the same thing to the people around him? I think the thing that frustrates me so much with Hornblower as a character is that he has a truly amazing insight, at times: like in Hotspur, when he dives across the deck and bats out the fuse on a shell before it can go off and obliterate the ship, he has this moment where, iirc, he worries about the hole he burned in his mittens because they came from the wife he admits he doesn’t love (and therefor cannot possibly care about her in any fashion whatsoever), realizes everyone is staring at him, realizes everyone on the ship thinks that he’s a hero for having almost literally throwing himself on the shell, and then gets incredibly irritated with them because - he tells himself - the only reason he did it was because he was afraid he’d be blown to jelly. I think he goes on to yell at Bush for some reason. bless u, horatio.

- Craig Boone (Fallout: New Vegas) The living - pixelated? - embodiment of that John Mulaney bit: “I’ll keep all my emotions right here…and then one day I’ll die.” An excellent deconstruction of the cool sniper archetype: a monosyllabic retired member of an elite military unit, easily the, uh, most combat-effective companion character, who is revealed to have somewhat-inadvertently participated in a massacre, mercy-killed his wife rather than let her be kidnapped into slavery and worse, willing to shoot first and ask questions later in the matter of revenge, who’s emotionally destroyed by all of the above and pretty obviously suicidal. As a character quest, he knows he can never have absolution, but he can try to make amends. I suppose he’s a top 5 for me because the narrative never excuses him, or makes his flaws seem admirable. Boone’s deeply messed up, and it’s clear he has a lot of work to do. Emotionally speaking.

- James Norrington (PotC): could not express an emotion if his life depended on it. Instead of telling Elizabeth he appreciates her as a person, he tells her in such a way that makes her think he only cares about her status. Instead of dealing with rejection, stress, and uncertainty like a normal person, he goes Ahab. Instead of trying to reckon with the mess he made of his life, he goes for death by bar fight or cirrhosis. Did, actually admit to real ~Feelings~ for Elizabeth before dying heroically, which is progress. one thinks.

- Mark MacPherson (Laura) a wiseass detective who drinks heavily to avoid even thinking about the fact he’s falling in love with the murder victim, and, when asked about if he’s ever been in love before, says (only partly joking) “A doll in Washington Heights once got a fox fur outta me.” AN ICON. A mess of a human being whose heart is, ultimately, in the right place, even if you have to dig down a few dozen feet to find it.

& bonus, because they’re both played by Dana Andrews, who I will continue to argue is criminally underrated as an actor:

- Fred Derry (The Best Years of Our Lives) I honestly can’t make any jokes about this. Derry’s a bombardier coming back from WWII with a lot of ribbons, no marketable skills, a wife he barely knows, and PTSD he’s never going to get any meaningful help to deal with. There’s parts of the movie where he’s falling apart in a way that’s immediately obvious to the characters around him and the viewer, but the worst parts are (for me), the look of quiet hopelessness he gets from time to time. The other two returning vets in the movie - Al Stephenson & Homer Parrish are traumatised in their own ways, but they, ultimately have families. Derry has no one. (and on a note unrelated to Derry’s emotional trauma, he does punch an American Nazi sympathizer in the face. You go, Derry.)

#polkaknox talks #ask meme #cw: suicide

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regrettablewritings · 6 years ago

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I'm not sure if you write for Stranger Things but if you do could you do Steve Harrington X reader for the ship meme?

Thank you so much for waiting!!!

How differently do they think of eachother now compared to when they first met?: First and foremost, there’s layers tohow you and Steve Harrington viewed one another both when you first met andfrom then on after. You knew of SteveHarrington because you didn’t have any other choice: He was the big man oncampus with his good looks and confident personality. (Plus, it helped that inthe small, sleepy town of Hawkins, everybody knew everybody.) You already kindof had your suspicions that that confidence was really just arrogance to somedegree but didn’t actually know him well enough to push it. But those verysuspicions were confirmed when the two of you landed in a class together.

Biology, while not the hardest subject for you, still took a bit of time andfocus to assure that you could move on to junior year. But all Steve Harringtonseemed to need to do was smile that admittedly dashing smile of his, andwhichever girl he picked for his lab partner would practically feed him hernotes. If he was saddled with another guy, he’d probably offer to hype them upto some girl who would probably only give them the time of day simply toimpress Steve with what a “good, open heart” she had. And if it was the teacherthat was concerned, he just needed to play up the All-American Boy act and hecould skirt by that semester with a solid C. C- at worst.

Passing biology with a C wasn’t anything to be ashamed of but when it wasearned by not actually earning it at all, it pissed you off. He never reallyhad to work his way through biology (or any class, you assumed). In fact, youwere pretty sure that the only time he actually had to make an effort was whenhe wound up getting grouped with you to study a colony of C. reinhardtii and take notes. You had observed him just longenough to know his typical tricks, so you sure as hell weren’t going to fallfor them. Steve found himself struggling to not look gobsmacked by yourresistance. (He fought even more to not appear confused about the subject matteronce he realized how little he actually knew due to his lack of effort inclass.)

From that exposure, Steve concluded with blunt simplicity that you were aboring bitch. Sorry, but it was true: Your avoidance of feeding his ego didn’tsit well with him, and he was all too quick and pleased to have as manymemories of the interactions fazed out of his mind. (In hindsight, he would’veacknowledged this with far better understanding but, hey, what did he know?Clearly not how to spell “reinhardtii.”)The fact that your hard work paid off and allowed you to skip junior yearstraight on into senior year made the ability to do so much easier.

There wasn’t much chance (thank God) or reason for you to interact with him.You weren’t looking to because he was irritating, and he wasn’t looking tobecause you were a passing face whose name he didn’t much care to remember onceyou were out of sight, out of mind. You two were like passing ships up untilthe metaphorical collision wherein he his friends threw water balloonsat your car on what happened to be your last day at Hawkins High. To be fair(more like generous), they weren’t specificallyaiming for you. But you sure as hell were pissed when your car found itself inthe “crosswater” of their artillery. And, just like your car, you left, drivingoff into the distance.

Well, as distant as the college of your choice could take you.

You would’ve been content to have the story end right then and there, butfate (and your mental state) had other plans. Apparently, college wasadditionally a time for existential crises and questioning if one has actuallychosen the right path for them. You wish you’d been told that before you wentand spent two and a half years drying your soul up in a well of academia. Youtried to take your decision to return home for a break in stride, however. Youtold yourself that you weren’t going to do any good if you yourself didn’t feelgood, which was true. Besides, it wasn’t as though you weren’t actually doinganything: In the time you’d spent away, apparently Hawkins had acquired a mall.And malls meant jobs. And jobs meant money, even if it meant plastering on asmile you didn’t feel up for.

To be fair, your first day at Claire’s hadn’t been too terribly bad. Butconsidering that this was the first mall in Hawkins and was still all the rage,it was constantly busy with tweens huddling in and out. By the end of yourshift, your feet were sore, you were not one step closer to deciding what to doabout your situation, and the energy acquired from your brief lunchbreak hadlong since worn off. These things alone were enough to convince you that you’dearned a treat. Ice cream, to be more specific. And la dee da, this mall hadcome with its very own Scoops Ahoy!

Complete with (to your amusement and secondhand embarrassment) sailor-themeduniforms and the dead-eyed expressions they inspired, as evidenced by the youngman managing the counter at the time of your arrival. Talk about awkward. Itwas enough to make you want to place your order and get the heck out of there.

“Hello,” you said, forcing yourself to create and maintain eye contact outof courtesy. “I would like a – ”

Wait, you paused. You recognizedthat mane of hair; not even the dopey sailor’s cap could conceal it!

“Steve?” you asked aloud, brows raised to your hairline. “Steve Harrington?”Steve Harrington tensed. His eyes widened. “… Nnnnnnooooooo but unrelated,can you take this waffle cone and jab the pointed end into my temple? Totallyunrelated, I swear.”

But you did not stab him, let alone with the sugar cone he presented youwith. And while you did provide inevitable laughter and even a handful of jabs,it never went too far. After all, a job was a job, there was only so much thatcould be said about the getup. At the very least it certainly made you gratefulthat your job wasn’t nearly as humiliating. But you had to admit, it was quitenice to see how humbled it had made Steve… . At least, you’d thought that it was the costume thatmade the young man more grounded at first. But apparently, he’d been differenteven before then.

The more you dipped into the ice cream parlor (because let’s face it, for abusiness that embarrassed its employees, they sure knew what they were doingwith their frozen goods), the more you knew of this new Steve. And he wasnothing like he’d been when you both attended school together. He’s much more .. . dependable. And far less conceited. Sure, he still made an effort topromote this image of having dignity (it was the only thing keeping him alivein this sailor-themed icy hell), but it was nowhere near the extent of whichhad made him a colossal asshole. In fact, by the time you two had started tothink of one another in more romantic terms, you concluded that Steve was a bigsofty with a surprisingly dedicated heart who had the capacity to give a personhis absolute all. Hell, there were points where you suspected he’d give his ownlife up in a tight spot. It was weird. But also such a dramatic shift that youwondered what could’ve possibly have happened in the relatively short periodyou’d been gone. As for Steve, he’d be quick to admit that he didn’t really know you before. Butif he dug deep into the recesses of his mind, he could validate that becausefrom what he recalled, you were a lot shyerback then. More reserved and arguably even a doormat to some degree. And whileit was still true that you weren’t anything outlandish, time had certainly madeyou a bit bolder than before. Maybe it was time away in college, maybe it wasbeing away from the sleepy town that was Hawkins. Whatever the case, youcertainly conversed more and were a little quicker to speak your mind or act inways to assure the results you wanted. He had a newfound respect for your workethic, impressed that you could uphold it for such an extended period of timewhereas he was relatively recently just getting used to the practice. Plus,it’s pretty much canon that Steve holds whomever he dates in high regards, sohe ultimately just thinks you’re the best.

What do their friends/family think oftheir relationship?: Nobody saw it coming, least of all your own friends and family. When Stevefirst came to meet your parents, one of the first things that flew out of yourdad’s mouth was, “Wait, isn’t this the guy that sprayed your car with shavingcream?” (It took a bit to clarify and convince him that that was actually hisformer friends who had done it, not the young man himself.) Even still, yourparents had some hesitancy about the relationship. You dad even threatened toknock Steve out if he did anything to “break his little girl’s heart.”

Your friends were only somewhat better, having had more of a chance toobserve Steve’s progression as a person for themselves after a decent few ofthem stayed back in Hawkins for one reason or another. Still, they held theusual amount of concern as anyone would for a friend who’d suddenly begun todate someone with whom they’d had previous disdain. But once they’re assuredand have proven for themselves that Steve isn’t a threat, they warm up to himquickly and make light taunts aimed at him about “what a nice, little gentlemanhe’s become.” Steve’s parents, having had no idea about your previousrelationship with their son, had even fewer thoughts. You dare even say thatthey were predominately indifferent to the situation! Their son always seemedto be with a different girl for most of his dating life; there wasn’t much theycared to say about the situation besides being courteous whenever you werearound (which, as Steve made sure, wasn’t often). At most, they thought as muchof it as how a parent typically feels about their son dating.

And of the kids … Should they really care? Not really. Though it shouldbe noted that Dustin, being the nice kid that he is (and the one who looks upto Steve the most), has an awareness of the relationship. The result is lightjabs aimed at Steve every chance he gets. However, Steve takes them in strideand tried to use the relationship as an example of how to treat a partner anddevelop as a person, especially when regarding the way he used to be when you two first met.

How do their personalities/skills complement orcontrast with each other?: The most obvious (and thereby mostfrequent) contrast that most people associate you two with is how your academicprowess compares to his own. That is to say, they call you book smart whileSteve is … not. And while this is arguably true, you personally prefer notto put focus on that aspect (a stark contrast to how it was in high school).Instead, you prefer to note the other obvious way with which the two of youdiffer: How you’re a comparative introvert compared to his more outgoingcharacter. It’s this more extroverted nature of his that results in you slowlyand steadily going out more and “being young but, like, a good percentagecarefree” as Steve puts it. Because while he’s become far more responsible inrecent years, you still have the most experience when it comes to keepingmindful.

However, it arguablymakes for a cute sort of opposites-attract kind of thing with you making himrethink his decisions and him getting you to open up a bit more.

What is their favorite aspect of each other?: If you had told your 11th gradeself that Steve Harrington was capable of selflessness and willing to givesacrifice for the safety and happiness of others, you would’ve laughed yourselfto death. Then haunted the current timeline’s version of you for spreading suchlies. Up until the ghost of you learned that it was not only true, but itsuited the young hotshot surprisingly well. Indeed, while it was true that ittook some getting used to even for Steve himself, the truth was there: He hadthe makings of a truly kind and caring person. In fact, if you had to make noteof another aspect of him, you’d be quick to express delight over howsurprisingly dedicated he could actually be: Once he’s found something he’staken to, he becomes loyal to that something and is determined to put as mucheffort as he can into the circumstance. And you damn near questioned whetheryou were having a stroke when you saw him interacting with some local kids in away that actually wasn’t assholish. Sure,his consistent execution was a bit shaky but the fact that he was even makingan effort at all is impressive considering that just two years ago, he wasnothing more than a stereotypical pompous jock.

Or at least, that was theimage he’d created for himself. It was expected of him, after all, as the school’swinning basketball jock. Part of why he was never aware of hisown potential for kindness until recently was because the group he’d hung outwith before made no attempts to push him to look inside of himself. They neverattempted to know him through and through, only encouraging what was theabsolute worst of him. That’s why he’s so grateful over how patient you can bewhen concerning him. Sure, people hear him talk, but few actually ever listen, much less the way that he needsfor them to. Granted, he’d been warmed up a bit by the time you’d come back toHawkins, but he certainly still had a ways to go. It was by the grace of yourdecision to extend upon him your tolerance that he was able to better exerciseit because let’s be real: He needs somebody to bounce off of, or a figure tokeep a focus on in order to do his best. Whether it’s to protect, to care for,or to recognize that he needs to be a better person for his own growth.

Do either of them have pet peevesabout each other?: Steve isn’t very confrontational. To be fair, neither are you, but you’ve cometo accept that putting off issues and pretending like they’re not there justmakes things even worse. Eventually, you suck it up and push yourself throughthe issue. But Steve still relies on the mindset that if you smother asituation long enough, it’ll just die before it becomes an actual issue; aremnant from the days where he used this to slip out of predicaments.

Steve can be surprisingly patient when it comes with the person he loves,but he definitely has a breaking point. And it’s hit when that modest behaviorof yours evolves into uptightness. (Or rather, what he accuses of beinguptight.) He knows that sometimes he can still go too far about things, or thatnot everything is your cup of tea no matter how worldly you become. But that’sno reason to scold him let alone patronize him! Let loose for once, geez! If Nancy could do it, why can’t you?! …Oh … Oh, wait, no –

How would each reconcile with eachother after a fight?: Considering what happened the last time he was in a relationship and a fighttranspired, Steve honestly gets a little nervous when the two of you have yourfirst actual fight. Not an inevitable lover’s tiff, but an actual, voice-raising,angrily-talking-with-hands argument. This is the end, he thinks. He shouldn’tfeel this wound up about it considering that the two of you hadn’t been goingout for too, too long. But he can’t help it: the idea hurts as any prospect ofa break up would. And not to knock on you, but he believes you have very littlereason to get too tied up with him. He’s already on thin ice from those yearsof being a pig-headed jackass after all.

Unfortunately, because he spent all those years being a self-centered jerkwho put in very little effort, he doesn’t have any exact practice in perfectingthe art of fight reconciliation. He’s never actually had to apologize foranything before his relationship with Nancy, and it wasn’t as though that attempt to express remorse everactually came to fruition. But from that, what we do know is that he’s a traditionalist. Or maybe he just has solittle experience that this was the only thing he could think to do. Whateverthe case, Steve is the type to give you guys some time away from one another,however agonizing it may be for his poor, restless soul. After that actual dayor two of separation, expect him to come to your door toting the best bouquetthat money made at Scoops Ahoy could buy, accompanied with an apology. Becauseeven if he doesn’t necessarily feel at fault for the argument, he hates thefeeling of you being mad at him even more.

If you want to talk, he’ll sit and listen, but you need to not becondescending or act as though you’re explaining things to a child. If you talkto him with the same amount of respect he gives you and listen to him the wayhe needs to be listened to, he’ll make more of an effort to take your words tomind and do better about whatever had caused the argument in the first place.

For your end, however, be prepared to confront whatever faults you may havehad in the issue. The plain and short is that, like anyone, Steve disdains feeling as though the brunt endof the dispute falls on him. The difference is that most people typicallyunderstand their issues; Steve’s only just now getting the hang of it thanks tohis late bloomer position in terms of serious dating. Even if he was thecatalyst of the issue, the best way to go about it is to state something alongthe lines of, “I’m sorry that I didn’t confront you or the situation in a waythat would’ve produced a better outcome.” However, gently push him to be moremindful; he can’t act as though the fight is only ever one-sided. But remembernot to seem snooty about it or else the two of you are just going to fightagain.

(Additional tidbit: Also, once SayAnything comes out, expect for him to also attempt to do the boomboxoutside the window thing. You know the one. Don’t get too into it, though,because there’s a 75 – 85% chance that he dropped it after holding it above hishead for a little while because fellas, boomboxes are big and heavy.)

What would be their ideal vacationgetaway together?: Nearly anywhere else sounds amazing when compared toHawkins. But if he had to narrow it down, Martha’s Vineyard. He and his WASP-yfamily went one summer and it just tickled his little heart (probably becausethe other girls vacationing there enjoyed gawking at him as he strolled thebeach). Of course, being that the two of you are quite young and quite broke,you’re not going to be able to go any time soon. But he’d love to be able totake you there one day. Maybe collect some seashells and eat some damn goodchowder. …Maybesomesexonthebeachmaybe.

But if he had to pick some place more affordable, maybe Gatlinburg. It’s apretty big shift from the upper crust vibe of MV, but he can’t help it: There’ssomething delightfully kitschy about the place with all its rustic charm andfried foods and whatnot!

Think of a new way (AU, differentsituation, etc.) they could have met for the first time: Dustin was a goodkid. Sure, sometimes he let a dirty word slip. And maybe on occasion he stayed out too long at Mike Wheeler’s housefor a session of whatever game those kids were into. But as a whole, mostparents would give an arm, a leg, and an eyeball to have a kid like him!

These were the thoughts Steve Harrington repeated to himself over and overagain as he sat outside of the drama teacher’s classroom. Well, that, and alsosome not so pleasant gripes about the seating options. Apparently, HawkinsMiddle had no adult-sized chairs to spare, as evidenced by the only offersbeing small, plastic, navy blue chairs that obviously had been swiped from someclassroom elsewhere. If he could, Steve would’ve opted to just stand and wait. Unfortunately,the sensibility of his sensible shoes had worn away, leaving behind a pain inhis soles that threatened to fuck him up if he dared to stand any longer thanwhat was necessary. But then again, it didhave more dignity to it; there was something a bit humiliating aboutstruggling to fit one adult-sized butt cheek into the dip of the little stool.

“Couldn’t bring out some goddamn …” he muttered, just barely avoidingkneeing himself in the chin. There was just way too much multitasking going onfor his liking: Sitting in this damn chair, trying not to hurt himself whilealso trying not to panic at the fact that he’d been called in by his son’steacher.

Dustin had existed for years without coming home with a teacher’s noterequesting a meeting. But then, Dustin had also existed for years as a child ina two-parent household. And duringall that time, he hadn’t acted out or anything … But things were differentnow. The signs were all there and even though Steve had made himself open toconversation, he simply trusted Dustin to come to him when he was ready.Unfortunately, the teacher’s note came first and that was all Steve needed tobe on the cusp of panic that his son was suffering far more than he knew and hehad, by default, failed at being a good parent on his own. Cue Steve rapidlyrelaying the aforementioned declarations to himself once more with double theaggression. It had been both a godsend and a gut-squeezer when the sound of theoffice door clicking open disrupted his umpteenth run of the mantra. The voicecame first.

“Sorry for the wait,” it flowed out. It was sweet, almost melodious, yetseemed to contain a sort of power laying just beneath the surface, giving everysyllable a hint of strength. Just what one ought to expect from somebody whosecareer surrounded conquering the stage.

But what Steve hadn’t expected was the form to whom the voice belonged. Thedoor creaked as it was opened further, followed by the soft tap of a heeledfoot stepping forward outside of the threshold.

“But thank you so much for doing so patiently.” A pair of perfectly coloredlips smiled at him. And suddenly, for the first time since he’d gotten theletter three days ago, Steve’s rapid heartbeat couldn’t be chalked up toanxiety.

++++++++++

Well, you thought, observing theman before you. At least now I know whereDustin got his hair from. Was it weird to be taking in the father of one ofyour students? Probably. Maybe. Yes. But you tried to ease off the weirdness byreminding yourself that you’d never actually met the man before. You weresimply taking in the features was all. As a teacher for an elective class (anda new one at that), Mr. Harrington had been under no obligation to meet youduring open house. Furthermore, you were essentially an outsider to the Hawkinseducational circuit: After years of performances at theater companies in acouple of states, you thought it might be time to quiet down in a quiet townwhich you could proceed to introduce some theatrical zest to. And while Hawkinswas definitely a place in need of such vigor, there still was apparently a bitof a culture clash even on your end (well, besides the dramatic shift from citylife to whatever the heck this hamlet could be considered).

Specifically, how so many of the people here grew up here and therefore knewone another. Especially when it concerned Steve Harrington. Apparently back inhigh school, he was The Man™ and had since been established as somewhat of asmall-town legend of sorts as a result. And while the man before you wasn’tnecessarily the maverick the women around the water cooler had had youenvisioning, you had to admit: He certainly was nice to look at. Especially for a dad. Most fathers you’dmet during your short time here were schlubby or indifferent at best. But Mr.Harrington held a sort of boyish handsomeness to him, as though time had onlydone him justice rather than the expected harm. And considering that you’dworked alongside some pretty handsome people during your stint as an actress,that was saying something.

You offered your hand out to him.

“Hi, I’m Dustin’s drama instructor, Ms. (L/N),” you grinned. It requiredyour skills in acting to avoid acting like the giddy schoolgirl you feltyourself threatening to revert to. It was a façade that nearly cracked when theman, grunting as he stood himself to his full, lanky height, accepted it intohis own with a firm handshake.

For a former basketball player, his hands were surprisingly soft.

++++++++

Well, Steve thought, following you into your office. They didn’t make teachers like that when I was growing up. Or maybe they did, just not in Hawkins.Frankly, you didn’t look like you belonged in the sleepy town: You could’vebeen a star with a face and voice like that. And with a body like that … an invasive thought commented,forcing his eyes to watch the sway of your hips as you rounded yourself aboutyour desk.

Oh, shut up, you creep, the morelogical part of his mind scolded. We’renot here to gawk, we’re here to find out what the heck the kid did.

“Once again, thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” you said, taking your ownseat opposite to him. (Steve couldn’t fathom how somebody could actually makethe process of sitting down look graceful but you did it.) “I understand that itwas a bit last minute, so trust me when I say that it’s greatly appreciated.”

“Oh, no, it was no trouble at all,” Steve found himself insisting. He threwin a smile for good measure, though deep down he knew it was for more than justthat. He almost wanted to kick his own ass for it. This was no time to harkenback to his playboy days – he had a kid now, and that whom this meeting wasabout. His poor, sweet kid of whom probably drove this poor woman to drink froma desk flask; this was no time to be focusing on such foolishness as making hisavailability shamelessly known.

“Well, Mr. Harrington, I’ll just cut to the chase,” you sighed. The puff ofair, gentle as it may have been, was more than enough to cause Steve’s ownbreathing to still.

Oh, god, he grieved, this is it. The moment of truth, whereinSteve would have to confront the fact that he’d fucked up as a father and nowhis kid was paying the price.

You went on, “You see, Dustin’s –"

“I’m sorry,” Steve blurted. For all the acting you had been doing up to thatpoint that evening, even you couldn’t stop yourself from hiding the confusionthat interruption had caused. Your rapid blinking went unnoticed by the manbefore you, however, as evidence by the fact that you’d made an effort to speakfurther only to be cut off once more.

“I get it if it means nothing, like if it doesn’t fix any of this but I just– ” It all came tumbling down from the inside out. It started as that all toofamiliar ball of anxiety that dwelled within the man’s stomach, tremblingupward into his lungs. It didn’t take long at all before it manifested on hisface as an expression of regret and disappointment – all directed at himself.His eyes scrunched closed. All you could do was sit there quietly, watching ashe squeezed the bridge of his nose in a failing effort to alleviate thediscomfort.

“Dustin,” Steve sighed finally, “he’s a good kid, I swear. But I get it ifhe hasn’t been acting right lately; that’s myfault. I know I should be more attentive to him but just … You know howkids are, they never wanna talk to you even when you wanna talk to them but it’s just all so hard – ” Hiseyes flew open, revealing hazel hues encased with worry. He opened his hand indefeat, shaking it for emphasis.

“But it’s just like? You don’t wanna forcethem or anything because shit’s – I mean, stuff is tough. I feel like he hasn’t been the same since – ” Hewaved a hand in random directions “—since that.But it’s also like he’s hiding things from me. A kid needs his mother but she’snot around anymore so it’s all I can do to at least try to take on that role in some way, I guess. And I’m trying to bea good parent in all this but … But it’s hard. Really hard. I’m on my own,nobody taught me how to do this, let alone on my own all of a sudden so it’slike I’m relearning everything from scratch and I’m trying to get our craptogether but – And I feel like … Like I’m failing him.” He paused,uncertain of where the newly budded feeling of horror within him was sourcingfrom: That he was really vomiting his emotions out in such away-too-informative manner, or that he could swear his eyes were beginning tosting with the threat of tears.

Being that the courses you taught were electives (and therefore had littlebearing on a student’s report card in most regards), most parents who’d visitedyou in your brief time at Hawkins Middle didn’t care enough to shed any tears.If there was ever a problem that needed addressing, the typical response fromthe parents was to get on your case or passive aggressively suggest thatperhaps you weren’t cut out for teaching or that theater wasn’t even thatimportant to begin with. It certainly stung and made you feel discomfort onyour own part, but it wasn’t anything you weren’t prepared to handle or atleast hadn’t experienced in some way, shape, or form before during yourprofessional stint. But honestly, you’d never considered the possibility thatone parent would cry. Much less that it would not only be a father, but the legendarySteve Harrington on top of it. And dispensing such information, no less!

Even in all your confusion, you felt deep for the man. And as therealization of the depth of his words settled in, so did a weight inside of you.And yet, in all your uncertainty, you couldn’t think of anything more to offerthan, “I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington. I didn’t know …” You awkwardly ushered asmall box of tissues towards him. While Steve did accept it, he didn’t make useof it. In fact, he seemed to be making an effort of sorts to do damage control.Of course, there’s only so much controlling that can be done when one dispensesso much baggage in such a scenario.

“No, no,” he sniffed insistently, “it’s not your fault. You couldn’t haveknown, it’s not your job to.” You bit your lip. You wondered if it was appropriateto state that, to an extent, it was.At the very least, if you wanted to be aware of a certain child’s well-beingbut …

Steve cleared his throat, his expression becoming manageable once more. “Butwhatever it was that he did, I’ll be sure to have a talk with him when I gethome.” It’s been long enough, heinwardly sighed with defeat. Painful to acknowledge but necessary.

“Well, actually …” You pressedthe tips of your fingers together, awkwardly trying to pull the nearly one-sidedconversation down a more comprehensible and survivable path.

“I’ve had a chance to see that for myself: Dustin is a good kid.”

Wait … What? At the sound ofthat statement, Steve perked with interest and his own brand of confusion. Morespecifically one that dared to be hopeful.

“In fact,” you went on, happy to notice the subtle change, “he’s more thanjust good; he’s a wonderful student. That’s actually why I called you in today.”

Brown brows furrowed over widening hazel eyes.

“I … What?” he questioned dully. You offered him a small smile andnodded.

“I’ll be honest, sir, I haven’t been teaching for very long at all. But I’vebeen in the theater business long enough to know a true performer when I seeand hear one.”

Steve only nodded. It was all he could do, really. He couldn’t find thewords, let alone finish piecing thought after thought with ever word youdelivered.

“Soooo …” you said in a sing-song voice (one that, in spite of hiscurrent state, Steve could still compute as lovely and sweet). “I was wonderingif it would be appropriate to possibly discuss taking it a step further.” Atthis point, Steve’s thoughtful state broke with the fluttering of his lashed.

“Pardon?” he asked. “ ‘A step further’ how? Exactly?”

You pursed your lips. “Well,” you lowered your hand to a desk drawer andretrieved a slip of paper. “I thought that perhaps this may be a start. At thevery least, it’s something to consider.” Steve accepted it, quick to notice avery familiar image in the header: Two masks, one smiling and one frowning.

“I’ve recently gotten involved with the Hawkins Playhouse,” you explained,allowing Steve the time to read over the information. In grainy but stillrelatively comprehensible images, he could make out people in whimsical costumesposing and grinning at the camera. Below them, in slightly bulky font, were thewords, “Fun! Expressive! Cultured!”

“Normally, kid parts wind up being played by adults because we can’t getenough children interested or involved, let alone dedicated enough to actuallystick to it. But Dustin?” You flashed Steve Harrington a grin. “I’ve seen thatcharacter of his; I can’t help but feel like it’s a bit too big for just a classroomelective. I’ve seen people like that. They have the potential to go far, if Ido say so myself!”

“Hm,” Steve hummed, bringing his eyes back up to you. At the sight of yoursmile, he couldn’t help but force his eyes back down to the sheet before him.He also may have attempted to lift it closer to his face to hide the blush hefeared was beginning to develop. “S-so you’re saying that Dustin … mighthave a chance at this?” That dare to hope had grown, becoming all the moreevident in his voice. It made a warmth begin to dwell inside of you, a completecontrast from the mood just moments before.

You nodded. “Pretty much. Of course, it’s all up to Dustin and yourself. Andhe would still need to audition for shows. But I just wanted to bring this toyour attention, if just for thought. Your son has a lot of potential, Mr.Harrington.” You heard a slight huff from behind the paper; maybe oneaccompanied by a smile, but who knew?

“You should be proud.”

Unfortunately, you weren’t entirely certain if he was or if he wasn’t. Notwith that paper still in the way. It was in that break of silence that youobserved the man’s trembling ever so slightly.

Uh-oh. Your smile faltered. Whilethe slight breakdown from earlier had been unexpected, you had certainly beenprepared for what you assumed was about to happen. The abundance of parents(especially dads) who were against their sons becoming more and more involvedin the theater world was near endless. You’d seen far too many disgruntled andintolerant assholes criticize their sons, calling them absolutely horrid names.Sure, Steve Harrington did something most of them would not do (that is, cryand basically vomit up his anxieties), but you of all people knew by now:Tolerance had the weirdest limitations. If one thing was fine to one person,there was no for certain guarantee that something possibly linked was just asacceptable.

You had wanted to believe that maybe Steve would be different, that he wouldactually be excited to hear that his child was thriving. It certainly beat thealternative that he’d worried about before. But as the silence went on, themore that hope of yours dwindled. After what had felt like an eternity ofawkwardness, you couldn’t take any more of it. You just wanted him out of your officeif he was going to be like this.

“Mr. Harrington,” you said. Your voice no longer carried the honeyed tonesfrom before. “Are you alright?”

“Mm,” came the hum once more. But this time, you could actually see the facebeing made as it was produced. The paper lowered to reveal Steve’s face, slightlyunfocused but completely awash with something that made the tenseness almostimmediately evaporate: Relief.

“I am,” he said quietly, eyes still trained on the piece of paper he held. Henodded. “I am. It’s just … Wow.” For the first time since he’d even satdown, he slumped against the chair. His spine was grateful for the relief, butnot nearly so much as his nerves were.

“Wow,” he whispered once more. “This … This is incredible.” As he deliveredthat proclamation, you heard a hint of a giggle. “No, really, you don’t get howmuch this means to me.” In his growing joy, Steve forgot his nerves for asecond, allowing his eyes to flicker up back to your face.

“My kid … My kid is thriving?Like, he’s not screwing around or anything?” he questioned.

You bit your lip. Perhaps in an attempt to keep from laughing, but youmanaged to disguise it well enough to pass off as a habit of thought.

“Well, I can’t say if that’s the case with his other classes,” you admitted.“But considering that I’ve never heard anything around the water cooler about Dustin,I’d say that your child’s doing just fine, all things considered.”

A sigh rippled from the smile that was beginning to ease onto Steve’s lips. “Oh,thank God,” he said. He poised his hands apart, gently shaking them as iftrying to grab for the right words. “It’s just great to see him thriving. It’sthe best thing I could ask for, really. I feel like I should be thanking you,actually.”

At that, it was your turn to feel blush threaten your face. You tensed,waving your hands as if to ward off the suggestion. “Oh, nonononono! It’s notrouble at all, seriously! Dustin is a delight in class and I’m just so used toseeing people waste their potential – I just thought I could do my part and seeif that could be avoided in his case.” All the while, Steve nodded. Had thisbeen last week, he would’ve been in too much of a funk to have progressed anyfurther. It wouldn’t be true to call it a complete opposition to how he hadbeen when he was a teenager, but it certainly wouldn’t be much of anexaggeration either.

But in this moment, right now? He was invigorated. He was like a hot rodwith a fresh coat of paint and a new engine. It had felt like an eternity sincehe’d experienced good news but tonight, he felt like he’d hit a triple whammy: Hewasn’t failing as a father, Dustin was doing okay, and, most uplifting of all, Dustin had a shot at something that made himhappy. It was too much; it needed to be expressed in the most SteveHarrington-way possible.

“Maybe … Buuuuttt … I think this still calls for a celebration of sorts.”He flashed you a smirk that had had many years of practice and perfecting, a grinthat had been his moneymaker back in high school. And judging by your body language,it still worked.

“I …” You stammered. You had to be honest with yourself: While you’dseen many a handsome smile, what with all the actors you’d run into, they hadnothing on Steve’s smile. “I wouldn’t say a ‘celebration,’” you said, avertingyour eyes. But only for a moment. When you returned them to him, they had beenrenewed with confidence. “But maybe perhaps to discuss looking into the HawkinsPlayhouse? A piece of paper can only explain so much, and I’m sure Dustin wouldlike to be in on it as soon as possible.”

“Oh, most definitely,” Steve agreed, that smile and steadied stare neverwavering once. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“Indeed, it does,” you said through a smile that threatened to wobble into apile of goo. You could feel your heart throbbing, but not quite in the same wayas it did whenever you got nervous before a performance. That was because youcouldn’t act anymore; you were most certainly reverting back to the schoolgirl whofreaked out after catching the eye of the school’s heartthrob.

You no longer had any doubts in your mind that Steve Harrington was TheMan™ that your peers had talked about.

#i forgot how to write is it evident #or maybe i'm just tired...#either way!! thank so sosososo much for being patient!!!#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #regrettablewritings #ship memes

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