#or as i like to call them The Three Idiot Stooges

[philtstone]

24. Showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house: for shawn? :)

[emerges from writing this fic bloody and beaten and on the verge of collapse] ill explore karen vicks character in an overly complicated post-episode missing scene fic or die trying! set immediately post "right turn or left for dead". i genuinely dont know if im happy with this but i also cant figure out how to fix it. actually, it would have probably been easier to write if i was willing to rewatch the episodes its based on. which i am not, because i am a sensitive little soul. so i winged it. i think there are like 10 different ideas that crop up and theyre all equally fascinating as character threads but i have no idea if i tied them together in an even remotely coherent way. also, WOULD she say that??? i had to call my brother twice to ask. this is what yall get for sending me actually interesting prompts, huh

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Henry’s voice said on the phone. “I’ll send Shawn over with them on his way out. He's going in your direction, anyway.”

In her short tenure as the junior detective to Henry Spencer’s lieutenant, Karen Vick observed two things:

First, that he was a far more clever strategist than most people gave him credit for. Despite the ongoing wreckage of his impending divorce and a kid who was slipping through his fingers as everyone looked on, Karen didn’t agree with the other junior detectives’ impression of him as a smash-the-door-down old school hard ass with thinning hair and a worst attitude. The man played four dimensional chess right out of a bonafide Star Trek episode. When he really wanted something done, Henry Spencer could bullshit and bluff and battle plan with the pros, and half the time you’d get too caught up in the blustering misdirect to realize his game was intricately thought out three steps in advance.

It was how they caught the Shorttown Killer, and also how they got that idiot Trembley at the mayor’s office to finally replace their coffee maker. Karen went home to her then-boyfriend, now-husband, and, right before bed, pulled out an old school workbook and took notes.

The second thing was that Henry Spencer loved his son. 

Not a lot has changed since then, Karen thinks, staring down the weirdness that she now faces through her open front door.

“… Oh — Mr. Spencer,” Karen says, because it’s rude not to greet your employees when they show up at your home outside of work hours, and are also your old friend-slash-colleague’s kid. “Hello. Thanks for — bringing these over.”

“Dad said it was urgent,” Shawn says.

Urgent isn’t quite how Karen would describe it, but hearing through the grapevine that your department might be facing an audit sometime in the next quarter does light a fire under the proverbial ass. Karen would rather bend a few rules and make sure the last year’s i’s and t’s are dotted and crossed right than leave her detectives vulnerable to the whims of a mayoral stooge. 

In general, Karen prides herself on caring about the people under her command just enough that it inspires genuine friendship and loyalty. The just is important. Care needs tempering – it’s important to pull back, press pause, keep certain lines uncrossed. It’s especially important if you want to be successful as a woman in an authority position where lives are often on the line. 

What she’s saying is that she tries to make it none of her business what her employees get up to in their spare time. She really genuinely does. She’s shut O’Hara down gently midway through the twelfth sweetly-frazzled attempt to overshare about her dating life (or her efforts to befriend her next-door neighbor, or the endearing personality quirks of her last cat – rest in peace, Triscuit, you will be missed –) enough times to be well-versed in the art of I Won’t Ask, You Won’t Tell, But You’ll Probably Know I Care Anyway.

An invaluable rapport to maintain. In any situation, Karen thinks, but especially when you’re a person who regularly hires and works alongside Shawn Spencer.

She’s not sure whether what she’s looking at right now makes her want to second guess or double down on her usual policy. 

“Special delivery,” Shawn adds, like everything is super normal.

Karen narrows her eyes. She glances behind them into the quiet residential street.

“Shawn,” she says.

“Yes, Chief?”

“You didn’t drive here, did you?”

“Ha,” he says, half rolling his eyes to accompany a weird aborted grin. “No. Even I don’t think riding a motorcycle with a concussion is a good idea. What if someone who wasn’t me got hurt? That’s — that would be no good, then you’d have to arrest me. Wouldn’t that be a huge bummer for the whole team, Chief? Gus would cry. And my dad wouldn’t let me take his truck.”

Karen stares at him. Shawn stares at the ground.

“I got a cab,” he says.

“And you are … taking another cab – home?”

Shawn looks quite suddenly like he’s going to be sick.

“Sure,” he says. 

Shawn looks terrible. Bruised face, bags under his eyes, and a weird frenetic energy twitching in his limbs that doesn’t pair well with his general air of exhaustion. He’s holding his shoulders stiffly and can barely meet her eye. His t-shirt and sweatpants are rumpled, like he slept in them, even though it’s too early in the evening for Henry to have woken him up to send him here, and when he thrusts the promised files out into the air toward her, abrupt and, admittedly, Shawn-like, he only just hides the awkward wince that immediately overtakes his left side.

The last couple days have been a bit of a whirlwind, so Karen can’t say she necessarily blames herself for not looking more closely. 

Even so.

Slowly, Karen reaches forward and divests him of the case files. They slip a little bit, because Karen can’t seem to stop peering shrewdly at Shawn’s face while she does it, and on instinct he reaches forward to stop the stack from toppling. 

It does help, but the autopilot he moves on makes it harder to mask what is to Karen’s eyes a very obvious flinch. 

“Alright,” is all he says. “Well, good to see you. Time to head back to the old hay stack.”

Like a needle in a haystack and time to hit the hay, Karen supplies needlessly in her own head. Aloud, she says, in many ways against her better judgment, 

“Mr. Spencer, are you okay?”

Shawn sways on the spot for a second, one fist clenched, mouth half open. For a strange moment, Karen gets the impression that he’s trying really hard not to say the wrong thing.

“... As rain,” he finally manages, then nods to himself like he achieved some great feat. “Okay. Well –”

“Did something happen to your shoulder?” 

“What? No!” Shawn’s eyes flutter closed and he shakes his head, “I’m – fine, Chief. It’s not – I mean, I’m – normal, fine. Fine in a normal way.”

“That’s not something an individual who’s fine in a normal way would say,” Karen says. 

“Uh, is it not! It is. I would know, because I am that individual. It’s – I was – there’s just mild – pfft … stab wound – or something, who would even …”

Is Shawn broken? is the unhelpful thought that pops into Karen’s head. She’s never heard an attempt to bullshit collapse so quickly into pathetic nothingness before – certainly not from Shawn.

Perhaps even more than his father, the kid’s a pro.

And then the rest of the sentence catches up with her.

“A mild stab wound?”

Oh boy. She watches Shawn’s eyes widen with the panic that proceeds an unquestionable blunder.

“Chief –” 

“In.”

“Chief, I really, really don’t think –”

“Inside my house. Now.”

He’s certainly uncoordinated enough that he doesn’t put up much of a fight. Karen herds him  through the door as firmly as possible and leads them in a beeline past Richard’s office toward the bathroom, ignoring the reedy stream of consciousness that spills out of Shawn’s mouth as they go.

“Oh, hey, woah, it’s been like forever since I was in here. Did you redecorate? I swear that lamp wasn’t there the last time we visited. It could be the tacos I had earlier, but I’m sensing a distinct neo-modern Chinese aesthetic going on here, Chief, which calls to mind the merits of cultural appreciation in suburban home decor – hey, is that your husband’s office? Can I meet him? Is he home? That man is a true enigma to us, Chief, and it’s leading me to believe that he must possess all the facial and personality qualities of the pop superstar Mr. Pitbull Worldwide –”

Richard is home, actually, and Karen needs to alert him to the fact that they have an unexpected house guest, so, ignoring Shawn completely, she calls out,

“Honey? Shawn Spencer’s here for a couple minutes about a work thing! I’ll go up to put Iris to bed in a second!” in the finely-honed There Are Many Layers Of Complicated To This secret married tone that Richard should probably be able to catch through the closed office door. 

“Alright,” floats out her husband’s pleasant voice. “Tell him hi from me.”

Perfect. There’s about a ninety-three percent chance he understood.

They make it to the bathroom, only stumbling slightly. Shawn says,

“-- or The Rock. Does your husband look like Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson? I really think that would make so many things about the Chief Vick family make sense –”

Karen closes the bathroom door with a snap and crosses her arms.

“Sit,” she says, in a voice that even he knows brooks no argument.

Shawn does. He looks – well, beyond uncomfortable, and more than a little bit miserable, and probably closer to completely dissociating than either of them are prepared for. Karen wonders belatedly if he's gotten any sleep at all in the last forty-eight hours.

“I’m assuming you have not been to the hospital.”

He gives her a baleful look, like he really expected better of her. She only just stops herself from rolling her eyes in response. And there’s that huge goose egg on his forehead, too. What, exactly, he got up to in between Carlton’s wedding reception and oh-eight-hundred hours this morning Karen has no idea, but he looks like someone’s run him through the world’s most aggressive industrial tumble dry cycle and spat him mercilessly back out. 

Or maybe over with a truck.

Sending a silent prayer to the universe that Iris never hit puberty and remains a sweet-tempered six-year-old forever, Karen gets to business.

“Well, I had to at least ask. Shawn. Does it need stitches?” He mumbles the answer the first time, and then looks beyond startled when she grabs him under the chin so he’ll look her in the eye. “Listen. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. But you’re going to tell me the truth. Got it?”

Shawn grimaces so hard at her words it’s almost a flinch. 

“No,” he says finally, clearly enough that she hears him. Karen raises an eyebrow. “No, I don’t think it needs stitches,” he articulates, but doesn’t meet her eye.

“Hm. Alright. I have gauze and tape in the medicine cabinet. Can I … is it alright if I pull up the sleeve of your t-shirt?”

Released from her hold, he groans and presses his face into one palm. “Chief –”

“I don’t really know what you expected, coming here! It’s not like I’m any less of a hardass than your father.”

“Yeah, but I can bitch back at my dad,” Shawn says, sounding like he’s finally realizing the magnitude of his mistake. Karen smiles grimly.

“Tough. Now pull your shirt up while I get the first aid kit.”

While Shawn proceeds to wrestle awkwardly with his t-shirt in a muted shuffle against the toilet seat, Karen rummages efficiently through the cabinet and eyes him through the bathroom mirror. He seems oddly reluctant to expose himself. In fact, in a stark contrast to his usual insistence on making his presence and contributions as obtrusively obvious as possible, Shawn seems intent on shrinking into the aforementioned Asian-flavored floral wallpaper (which does need an update, unfortunately) with all the equanimity of an anxious chameleon. Karen feels her eyebrows crease. Taking the first aid kit in hand, she brings it over and deposits it into his arms, ignoring his small startle.

“How about you hold that,” Karen says. Shawn does, against his chest, like a pillow. She walks around him and surveys the damage, antiseptic gauze in hand.

He wasn’t lying about the severity, at least. It’s a shallow thing, already mostly congealed, and has only stained his shirt in a small smattering spot of crusty brown blood.

Karen swabs at it with the alcohol using light careful fingers.

“Ow, ow ow ah –”

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s hardly a life-threatening injury.”

“Super insightful, Chief,” Shawn snaps, as genuinely sarcastic as he’s probably ever been with her, “never thought of that myself. Totally the reason why I just had to go to the hospital.”

He doesn’t pull away, but she can feel the tension radiating through his back. She blinks, one eyebrow crawling up her forehead. 

Alright then. So that’s how it’s going to be. 

“I’m assuming your father doesn’t know about this,” she says.

Shawn grunts, noncommittal. Huh. Maybe he does know, then, and has just been disallowed from doing anything about it right now.

She tosses the first used antiseptic wipe into the trash.

Goddamn four dimensional chess.

She supposes she’s never been bad at the game. She may as well work her way backwards through the moves: Guster, the most obvious node in Shawn’s turn-to-in-a-crisis-system, would never voluntarily abandon his friend in a time of need, so Karen assumes that whatever this is has either already included his support or not been made known to Gus at all yet. Henry’s likely exhausted his own usefulness in the situation, and Detective O’Hara is …

Karen has to work very hard for her hands not to pause in a way that gives away her hard-earned mental sleuthing. A bad feeling wholly unrelated to her ill-advised hangover of the day before begins to bloom at the back of her gut.

“You have really small hands, Chief.”

Shawn’s voice is notably more subdued than before.

“Do I?” 

“They’re like … little kangaroo hands. Like the mom kangaroo from Whinnie the Pooh.”

“Didn’t you know?” Karen says, not unkindly. “They’re given out at the hospital when all first-time moms leave with their baby.”

He lets out a tired little laugh, more boyish than he probably means it to be, and in spite of herself Karen feels her heart clench. She isn’t blind. In all her last seven years as the leader of their chaotic little precinct, she has never seen Juliet O’Hara look as ill as she did yesterday morning. The usually sweet-faced young woman had all the pallor of a Victorian ghost, and stood so far away from Shawn in any given room that to an unassuming observer he might have had the plague.

There are only a handful of things, Karen thinks, that could have invited that particular evolution in their dynamic. She rips the surgical tape from its canister a little bit more harshly than is strictly necessary and fights the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“So,” she says conversationally, laying the tape down in neat, gentle little strips, trying not to pinch the wound too tightly. “Any fun plans for the evening?”

Shawn sniffs. She can see him gripping his hands together over his knee from where she stands above him.

“Um, yeah, uh –” he clears his throat, “you know me, Chief. We’re working our way through a Robert Guillame marathon, which means some good old fashioned Benson, running commentary on the quality of that child acting, naturally.”

“Naturally.” 

“Then Gus and I were gonna hit up the new, the new chili cheese joint up by Hermosa, you know – they’re doing sliders –”

“Chili cheese sliders?” Karen hums, contemplative.

“Buy ‘em by the pound,” Shawn agrees. “Then I was thinking of getting a tattoo, maybe a belly button piercing, I’ve been really – really needing a change – would you let Iris get one, if she asked?”

“A tattoo?” Karen clarifies, cutting off the next piece of tape. The skin around the cut is warm to her touch but Shawn’s arms have goosepimpled. The hair at the back of his head sticks up unstyled, like he slept weirdly and couldn’t be bothered to fix it come morning.

“Of a marmoset. That’s what I’m thinking. With distinctly effeminate vibes.”

“Well, Dick hates marmosets. So I’d probably encourage her toward something else. Perhaps a sea lion.”

“Like Shabby.” The nervous note has bled into his legs again, and his earlier subdued tone has gone back to sounding strained. “Yeah, that’ll – that could be it.”

“All in one night, huh?” Karen says.

“I –” Shawn doesn’t even hiss when she presses down with a cotton gauze to cover the last of the thickened blood. His legs are properly jittering again. “I was – yeah, y-you know me, Chief, total night owl.”

“Shawn?”

“Yeah?”

“What about going home?”

Silence. Shawn doesn’t answer for a moment long and pregnant enough that Karen wonders if her question will be ignored entirely. 

Then,

“Chief,” he says finally, in an awful, tiny little voice, “I really, really fucked up.”

Finally, her hands do falter in their ministrations; as emotionally exuberant as Shawn often is, she doesn’t think she’s ever actually heard him close to tears. For a horrible moment she wonders if Shawn Spencer will suddenly start crying atop her toilet seat for reasons neither of them are capable of discussing honestly. Then she wonders if her horror makes her a terrible boss.

Boss – mother – person.

Oh, dear.

She sets down the surgical tape and lays a ginger palm over the newly-bandaged gouge in his shoulder. It’ll probably scar, but not at all badly. She doesn’t like to think about the far more obvious one just below, puckering in a violent yet unassuming divot. Another narrow miss for Henry’s boy. 

At this point there are so many of them to count, Karen has to question the statistical likelihood of the whole thing. Becoming a mathematical anomaly is, Karen can attest with confidence, not exactly the future the Lieutenant Spencer she knew dreamed of for his increasingly unmanageable teenager. 

Doing what he loved, on the other hand – absolutely. Being with a person he loved, even more so. Karen grits her teeth at the irritating web she’s spent the last six years constructing around herself and wonders if this evening right here is some kind of cosmic karma for leaving Iris in the care of nannies for the first three years of her life.

That sounds like the kind of thing those horrible parenting magazines and Karen’s mother-in-law would claim, anyway.

“Shawn,” she says slowly, because she has to at least knock this possibility off the list before risking her career in an attempt to mediate her detectives’ love lives, “did you … you weren’t – unfaithful, were you?”

“What?!” 

Shawn yanks his shoulder away and whirls around to face her with such a look of horrified betrayal on his face that it’s almost comical. 

“No!” 

Thank fucking God, Karen thinks. Aloud, she says,

“Well, I’m sorry, I had to at least ask!”

“No! No! What the hell, Chief!”

“Oh would you be quiet! I’m gathering my evidence here!”

“How could I – I would never – you’d even think that I could –”

“I know! Shawn, for God’s sake –” He’s scrambled to his feet in the cramped bathroom space, glaring, and has probably messed up all that surgical tape in the process. The half open first aid kit and his crumpled shirt press lopsided against his front and her garbage can is now full of oxidizing bits of cotton. Karen officially gives in to the urge to press her palms against her forehead. “I had to ask!” she repeats finally. “You and I both know you’re not gonna give me much else to work with, and you sounded so – so sad!” 

Shawn barks out a hysterical little laugh. Karen almost growls in frustration. 

“I am not going to risk all the very hard-earned rules I have in place without knowing for sure that my instincts aren’t wrong. Is that so hard to appreciate?”

Does it count as sound police work when the framework for your investigation is an unacknowledged lie? Karen doesn’t really know. Probably there’s another math metaphor to be made in there (you screwed your proof from the very beginning, maybe, Richard the professor would definitely have thoughts), or just a straight up joke. How to solve a case that’s cold before it ever has the chance to go live; a cover-up if she ever saw one. Unlikely that O’Hara will peep a word, and things will be a true mess for a few weeks, if she can’t make an educated guess about it. And no one will be explaining anything to Carlton, either …

Right before their goddamn audit, Karen thinks, aggrieved. She wonders if Henry considered this in his calculus. Send Shawn over, have her deal with him. Offer a huge unspoken you’re gonna be walking into a shitstorm tomorrow canary for her perennially chaotic mess of a coal mine. 

She can’t help but feel begrudgingly grateful, but that doesn’t mean she and he won’t be having words about this later.   

“Jesus, Karen,” Shawn mutters, pressing his face back into his free hand. Karen shakes her head and squares her shoulders.

“Well then! Back to the issue. You fucked up.”

“You know what? I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Oh, Mr. Spencer, I assure you I am more than well aware.”

Shawn blinks at her between his fingers, looking genuinely confused for the first time since he showed up at her door. 

Karen does not bother to clear up his confusion; it’s better this way, anyhow.

“Will you be sleeping at Gus’s place or your father’s?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“I’m – I don’t –” Shawn doesn’t meet her eye. The earlier thread of anxiety is back. “I wasn’t …”

So, neither. 

“Put your shirt back on,” she says. “We’re relocating to the living room.”

“Chief –”

“That was an order, Mr. Spencer.”

The living room is as quiet and mundane as it was an hour ago. It’s past Iris’s bedtime – she’ll have to go up, and soon at that. Karen seats her guest, retrieves a mug and a bag of chamomile from the kitchen, and removes the fluffy throw blanket from the basket behind the couch on her way back in. He’s deflated completely by the time the tea and blanket are set in front of him. Small and exhausted. Caught. It’s a horrible way to think about it. But she can’t avoid the hundred yard stare – Karen has seen it one too many times in people only just realizing they’re about to go away for life.

“Shawn,” she says, firm as she can make it. “Drink the tea. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m … what?”

“Your lips are dry. You shouldn’t be dehydrated with a concussion.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Karen suddenly wonders if he’s going to get up and leave. She has experience with these things – she knows a runner when she sees one.

“I might as well have,” Shawn finally whispers.

She doesn’t catch it the first time. “What?”

“I – I might as well ha – Chief, I …” Deep shuddering breaths. He’s finally shutting down, she realizes. She can’t send him back out like this; Henry would give her the stink eye for a month.

Goddamn Spencers and their goddamn irritating overcomplicated lives.

Karen pushes the tea directly into his hands and tilts her chin so she can meet Shawn’s eye. He’s still lucid enough that she doesn’t think he’ll start hyperventilating, but now that the outrage and adrenaline has worn off, the symptoms of shock are pretty hard to miss. “Shawn,” she says again, and wills for him to understand.

“What if she – what if I never –” He can’t get the full sentence out. He looks at her, eyes wide and terrified.

Life sentence, Karen thinks again. The messy stack of files Shawn brought over sits almost unimportantly on the coffee table between them and a memory comes to her, unbidden, of words penned carefully in the corner of a modified police report that she pulled the minute the door closed on the McCallum case seven years ago. 

Date: May 4th, 1995. Reporting Officer, Spencer, Lt. H. Perpetrator a caucasian male, brown hair, five foot nine, insists on wearing those stupid earrings just to spite me. What the hell do you want me to write here, Chief? Spent two hours in the fucking principal’s office convincing them not to expel him one month off from graduation. All that effort, and I still booked the kid. It’s gonna follow him for life, and it’s gonna be me that did it to him. For life. You think he’ll ever forgive me? He’s the greatest thing in my pathetic little world and he keeps breaking my heart, and I can’t even properly accept that it’s my fault. 

How’s that for a fucking crime.

She needs to go put her daughter to bed. It’s the thought that keeps running through her head, oddly enough, like a strange antidote to the impotent anger and heartbreak and frustration she’s feeling for the people under her care.

With all the notes she took in that little workbook, she still let herself become complicit in the painstaking, convoluted resolution of Henry’s mistakes without accounting for all the variables.  

Richard’s footsteps sound muffled in the next room; he’s made his way upstairs in Karen’s absence. She needs to go. She wants to hear the soft and sleepy love you Mama that with her unpredictable hours and regular long nights isn’t nearly routine enough.

“Shawn,” she says evenly. “Do you love her?”

It’s hard to reconcile the smarmy kid who tried to barter with her for twelve hundred a day with the devastated young man sitting on the couch in front of her.

“Chief …” he starts, barely above a whisper.

“Good. Then she’ll see that. Detective O’Hara is a smart and observant woman. What she chooses to do next is her decision, but … you might be – well, comforted by the fact that she’ll know that – truth.”

Shawn stares at her. The tea steams in front of him, cooling in increments. She takes a deep breath and gets to her feet, patting his uninjured shoulder brusquely. 

“I have to go check on Iris. When I come back down, I can drive you to the Psych office.”

Iris is fast asleep when she gets there. A library book lays open face down over her stomach, and her soft brown hair fans out against the pillow, silhouetted by the soft glow of the unicorn nightlight in the wall above her. Karen turns off the bedside lamp, tucks her daughter in, and kisses her forehead. Just before she leaves, she hears it: murmured, half-awake.

“Love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Karen goes back to her living room, car keys in hand. She’s planned her next move in the driver’s seat enough times throughout her career that it shouldn’t be too hard. 

[ask-the-abomination]

Introductory

The sun would bestow upon this land it's beloved warmth, finally beginning a full start of a new day! The local wild Pokémon would go about their merry way throughout this verdant forest, all the while the Swablus sung in complete harmonic unison. Everything appears to be in a state of perfect tranquility. … Or so one would have assumed.

An odd-colored Scatterbug had grown rather inquisitive about what she had stumbled upon. A metallic device of the sort. But of what purpose does it hold? It doesn't quite appear to hold any beneficial use, as it seems to be way beyond repair and had seem to have already fallen into the grasp's of mother nature. Because of it's fallen structure, it would likely stray the attention of others. At best, many would simply assume that it is nothing more than mere junk. But… If it were to had landed to the eyes of the right Pokémon… Or, in this particular case, a snout--

The Scatterbug shuddered in sheer terror. Her movement fallen completely paralyzed at the sight of someone's muzzle just barging ever so near within her vicinity. The insect felt endangered. Consumed into the assumption that this may be her end. However, despite her fear, the larger Pokémon express zero interest towards her. Instead, they seem to be far more intent on the damaged device on the ground. Sniff… Sniff… They would take a few whiff at the piece of metal. Allowing the fragrance of another's scent to wave around inside their nostrils. Even though nature's aroma had lingered on this object for an unknown amount of time, it hadn't taken long for the canine's thoughts to click.

"-!! HIS SCENT HAS BEEN FOUND!" The canine would growl from beneath her breath, as she spoke. Although, she can't quite hide her words in hush-hush, when the increased amplitude of her tone is heavily audible for many to hear. "NOT A DOUBT THAT THE OTHER IS WITH S-047. BROTHERS, APPROACH! A LEAD HAS BEEN FOUND!". Her call being louder than a Whismur's cry. It wasn't long until two Houndooms would reveal themselves from beyond the luxuriant, grassy path. Though, it didn't particularly seemed like they were too far off from the female Houndoom's location. Nevertheless, they were here. Marking three not-so-welcoming looking hounds in this territory.

The one leaning to the western direction would salivate, as he laughs maniacally. While the other in the eastern side would retain his silence, as the flames wisp through from side to side of his jaw. The lead Houndoom would only growl in a rather overreacted, yet unprovoked irritation. Her voice would explode in volume once more, this time her tone shifting to a sound that is of a mixture between authoritarian and belligerence. Much to the displeasure of the brothers. "CHOP, CHOP, WE HAVE TO LOCATE AT A NINJASK'S PACE! NOT AFTER BREAKFAST, NOT LATER— WE HAVE TO FIND THEM, NOW! WE CANNOT LET THEM OUT FROM THE GRIP OF OUR CLAWS AGAIN! THE MORE TIME WE WASTE, THE GREATER THE OPPORTUNITY ARISES FOR THOSE TWO LESSERS TO ESCAPE!" "DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" Silence. Neither of the brotherly duo have chosen to answer her. "I SAID: DO… I… MAKE… MYSELF… CLEAR?!!" The female Houndoom repeated herself. Beginning to sound increasingly irritable through her voice. It had taken but a very brief moment before the two-eyed brother would widely open his jaws and spoke out. "MMMMMM I THINK NES WOULD SUFFICE! A NO, A YES, A NES! GRAHAHAHA!!" He boomed in absolute laughter at his not-so-funny joke. "… YOU ARE AN IDIOTIC DUNCE! DON'T WASTE MY TIME WITH YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPT OF HUMOR."

Unbeknownst to the trio…

--They were being closely watched by someone from above the trees.

His tail would sway back and forth, as he was not-so-secretly showing the fact that he seemed a little too delightfully chipper at the sight. "It really took these three stooges loooooonnnnnnggggg to arrive here. I was starting to feel pretty bored of not seeing any of their flee-riddle-piss-gobblin' selves, kekeke~." As amused as this slender Sylveon sounded, it became rather short-lived as a smidge of disappointment had settled in. Already he holds full awareness that a particular someone would shrivel in sadness that they have to leave their current 'home'. Something that he doesn't particular look forward to seeing…. Again.

However, before this 'wimp' individual could be informed of such news, the Sylveon had needed to carry out a plan first. Most considering that it does hold importance to the current predicament at hand. That problem being the involvement of the Houndooms that is directly below him. The slender Sylveon would raise up a paw, nearing chin-length. A grim fog would gather around from the very central part of his paw-pad, appearing the same moment that his arm was halted in motion. Soon, the mist appearance would be more of a spherical shape. It was radiating harsh, ominous energy as its form was appearing more and more like a shadowy blob. The elemental skill that he is casting upon is known as none other than Shadow Ball.

When the Ghost-type skill had fully materialized, the Sylveon had seized this chance to thrust his paw forward. Unleashing a dark, powerful orb of ominous energy. However… It would appear that the target of his attack wasn't aimed towards the location of any of the Houndooms. Oh, no, no, no. This Sylveon is quite well aware that a Pokemon like these hounds are not vulnerable against this particular attack. After all, Ghost is ineffective against Dark types. So, he had opted into a more strategic course. One that would prove to be much more beneficial to himself. He had allowed the Shadow Ball to be launched into….

BAM!!! The tree was struck by a powerful blow from the orb! It had already became evident that his goal was to create a distraction. And, well… It became quite a success! The intent was to take advantage of the Houndoom's blindness and bare sense of hearing. Thanks to the sound of the explosion, the trio would immediately snap their head towards its location. Their focus was completely lured into the Sylveon's bait, much like how a Magikarp would immediately bite into a Caterpie strapped onto a hook! Without a moment to lose, the two Houndooms would quickly bolt their way towards the tree. While on the other hand, the one-eyed Houndoom would take a much more slower pace to follow his siblings. It was as if he was intentionally lagging behind… And yet, he spoke nothing of it. Nor did he seem to be expressing any notable, diverted attention. The Sylveon, once seeing the foolish hounds heading towards the distracting direction, would finally have himself come down from the tree. Of course, setting himself at a careful and gentler pacing. After all, he still needs to avoid creating any additional sounds to attract any sort of attention to himself. It wouldn't be ideal to get caught now!

The Sylveon would grant the world his unsettling grin. A smile so wide, it spread from ear to ear and revealed the sharpest of teeth. This creature's disproportionate body would react rather joyous to this small act of success. By, well… Swaying his butt in a rhythmic manner and moving his hips from side to side, exuding a massive amount of confidence. Even his tail was getting all jiggy with it! The eyeball bouncing around as if there were no big deal! It genuinely gave him a shine of immense pleasure to easily deceive these Houndooms once more. As simple of a plan as it was, this still doesn't dissuade the Sylveon's utter proudness.

The female Houndoom howled in anger, as she pace around the broken tree. Furiously sniffing the ground near it, trying her damnest to see if she can capture the scent of their targets. "GRRRR, REVEAL YOURSELVES YOU COWARDS! YOU HAVE ONE CHANCE TO TURN YOURSELVES IN, PEACEFULLY! FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN BRUTE FORCE!!"

The demanded sound would unfortunately fall into death's ears, as the Sylveon had far departed from the hound's location. Only a differing of words would be heard, moreso from the double-cheeked up Starly. The avian's piercing howls, sobbing about their home being destroyed from some uncivilized brute! How someone must pay for such unwarranted demolition!

Soon a transition to the story would shift towards a different creature. One who is located in the same forested area, but not as near to the location of the Houndooms.

"I-I… I don't understand… Why?" "I've looked and couldn't find any answers…" "..." "… I still don't know who, or what I even am…"

The tall amalgamation would clench his paws tightly. He appeared to be very troubled by the thoughts that is racing throughout his head. Uncertainty… Unresolved… Incomplete… "What if…" A moment of pause was brought into attention. His voice have befallen, becoming quieter and quieter. His inner emotion becoming a twisted knot. "… What if I'd never--".

SNAP

His focus had been snapped awake, bringing his attention back into reality. All because of the sudden sound of a cracked branch. One that sounded far too close to him… This would, however, prompt him to be grasped by the state of a feeling: Panicked. It made him felt fearful towards of what—or, more crucially, who—caused that noise. His face, paled in fright, as his fur stand on ends from the terrified sensation coursing throughout his body. In response, he would quickly turn to face towards the direction of the sound. Hindsight doesn't seem to be 20/20 for this taller creature, as he would immediately blabber nervously and loudly to whoever may have caused the sound.

"I-I, UH-- I DON'T TASTE GOOD! REALLY, I HAVE AWFUL FLAVORING! PLEASE! LET ME LIVE! IF YOU WANT, I'LL LEAVE! PLEASE, D-DON'T HURT ME! I HAVE SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR!" … It was at that moment, the mix-match abominable creature would fall deathly silent. Now taking realization of who the culprit was from behind the sound of the snapped branches. That being none other than this fabulously-slender and obviously the most handsome Sylveon!

"Yeesh. If it was this easy to get your fluff-dump to leave, I would of scared the living daylights out of you sooner, kekek~. Then again, it reeeeaaaallllllyyyyyy isn't that hard to make you scareder than a Wimpod, Vin~." Blink, blink, blink. 'Vin' had to blink several times, as his fears was washed away and perplexity had taken its place. He would open his mouth, wanting to question the Sylveon's whereabouts. "Sabor, wh--!!". And yet, he couldn't say anything further than a name. Why? well, it may be because Sabor, the Sylveon, would press both ribbons against the other's lips. Smothering his mouth, keeping him in a hush tone. "You really ought to lower those crusty kissers of yours, Vin~. I really wouldn't want to see either of those boot-licking 'dooms rushing into our place, all because of your wimpy screams. You really need to have some sense of danger~." 'Vin' would stare at the Sylveon, his eyes widen in shock. Based on what information was brought to him, he wished that he could be in disbelief. Hoping to not believe that this disheartening day has finally come. Sure, he wasn't oblivious from the fact that such a day were to come, where the Houndooms would make mark of their location. Undoubtedly, considering that the time of their encounter has exceeded its duration. But 'Vin' emotionally held onto that string of hope. The potential possibility that maybe, just maybe, that the hounds would never make an appearance. That the duo could finally be at peace and no longer could they run from what they avoid. To live a life of normalcy. 'Vin' would softly brush Sabor's ribbons away from his mouth, as he spoke in a rather discouraged tone. "No… They couldn't- shouldn't… Why… W-Why now?…". His head droop like a hanged curtain. Sabor would only wave his paw in a very dismissive manner. He would use one of his ribbon to flick itself onto 'Vin' horn. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Look, I know you love this place and all, Vincent. But it's better we get our asses out as soon as we can, before dumb, dumber, and dumbest finds us. I'm not going to stick around and get my ass captured by those rotten flee bags." In truth, Sabor had never felt appealed to take residence in this particular area. It simply just wasn't as ideal as the previous landmarks they've temporarily lived at. So if anything, this was a masked opportunity that had to be seized.

Vincent head would arose. While wishing to speak more of this topic, his eyes seem to have taken notice of something else. Something-- Or moreso SOMEONE, whom stood behind Sabor… Alarmed, Vincent would point towards Sabor. Pointing towards you. " S… Sabor… Who are they?". His tone a little shaken, as he had never expected to see another. The Sylveon's tail would in a flash face its direction towards you, to have its watchful eyes wield a piercing gaze directly AT you. Straight away, Sabor would pull his ribbons away from Vincent. The ribbons would wrap around the air, as sparks of flames begun to emit onto them. It was starting to begin to create shape. Taking form of a curved, sharp blade. A scythe of the sort, engulf into nothing but pure fire. He was manipulating his next set of skill, making it be more weapon-like. This move is known as Mystical Fire.

"T... They don't look like one of them. I think they're friendly...". His words paused for a good moment. Vincent was taking into realization that he doesn't quite have a full grasp of whether or not the being in front of them could possibly have any ill-motives. This caused him to back track a little. "O-Or at least, don't look like someone who would hunt us down like those guys. I, um, r-really don't think you should attack them."

"... Sometimes I think your 'pacifism' will be the death of you someday, dude. You really are a word-to-word textbook definition of a boner killer. Really killing the murder-this-totally-not-so-suspicious-stranger mood here~." Sabor would lower the flaming scythe, letting the flames dissipate into nothingness. However, the Sylveon will remain alerted and held his guard up towards you.

~{ The duo is now available for asks! }~

[tikus-library]

"The Look"

Avengers AU - Quick Fic

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Reader

Posted: Jan 20th

WARNINGS: none, idiots being idiots

A/N: I was at the laundromat yesterday when I saw the gif and needed to write something- so gave this.

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

Leave kudos on Ao3

“Here comes Y/N! Do the thing- do the thing!” Sam elbowed him, shit eating grin in place.

Bucky sighed with his entire soul, “Sam, it doesn't do anything, it's just a look, that's all, it doesn't matter”

“If it doesn't matter then do it.”

“Why would I?” He shot back as Sam stopped, shifted his hip out and crossed his arms.

Sam rolled his eyes to Steve, “he won't do the thing!”

“Steve get your friend”

“He's more your friend than mine these days pal,” Steve chuckled.

“Here she comes… you should see how she reacts to it, you'd understand me Steve, this one here is just an idiot.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes as Steve shrugged, shook his head and raised his hands in classic ‘I don't know’ fashion. “fine-” he bit out, stepping out between them and tipping his head down and looking up at you.

Today couldn't get worse. Today everything was wrong. Today every file that was sent to you was backwards or upside down, some were even corrupted and Tony thought it was the funniest shit, as if you could be any later now you had to do a quick debriefing of the three stooges that were currently coming back in from a mission and really as if you didn't get enough shoved on your plate– wonderful, you perked up realizing the three were right there, together, you could get it done in five minutes as long as you heckled them.

You could just stare at Steve or Sam. They were good, wholesome, wonderful guys that were not the sergeant. Not that Bucky wasn't wholesome or handsome– actually he was very handsome, distractingly so, especially when he smiled, or put his hand through his hair, or just breathed in your general vicinity.

Speaking of the Sergeant you saw him step forwards and meet your gaze, head dropping, hair shifting forwards to frame his face, lips pressed down and bright blue eyes focused on you.

Your brain flat lined.

Y/N stopped in her tracks, her determined steps halting, Bucky cocked his head to the side and was surprised when she did an abrupt about face and practically RAN back in the direction she had come from. He shoved a hand into his face.

Great, now you were scared of him, as if he didn't have enough trouble figuring out what to say to you. Now you wouldn't show your face around him.

Steve guffawed, bringing Bucky back out of his depressed thoughts. “Good gawd Buck, I forgot the effect you had on a woman.”

“What?!” He demanded, “she ran out of here in fear for her life!” Sam cracked, a howl of laughter spilling forth, Bucky clenched his fists, “you think that's funny?”

Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder, “that wasn't fear man! That girl wants you, she wants you real bad.”

Bucky jerked back, blinking hard. “No.”

Steve nodded as he looked over at him. “That wasn't fear pal, that was panic, I can tell you this much – Y/N is quiet because when she does speak she can't keep her mouth in check, which usually tends to land her in hot water.”

Bucky turned to Sam, who was wiping away a few tears, “she has literally called us both hot, but said there was no way she would date us.”

“But when I asked her for her opinion on you–” Steve laughed, but sobered and leveled a look at him, “buddy, ya need to talk to her.”

“It was pretty colorful,” Sam murmured

“What did she say?” Bucky asked.

Sam shook his head, looking over at Steve, “did you see the way she shivered at the look?”

Steve nodded laughing as he moved around Bucky, “makes you realize what she said had to be true.”

Sam gasped as the two continued to walk, “Y/N! She really is full of surprises! Scandalous!!!”

“WHAT DID SHE SAY?!” Bucky cried following the two.

[is-on-its-way]

In the name of the Father, the Skeptic and the Son

Episodes: One Son/ Two Fathers

Dana Katherine Scully doesn't take overt disrespect and then just continue on with her work. Also Mulder needed a reason why he was being so short with the woman he loves... The titles are Alanis Morissette Lyrics from Jagged Little Pill. I feel like its relevant to this sitch.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

Chapter 1: We had to believe in something, so we did

The lone gunman give Mulder a piece of their minds for being so rude to Scully.

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

(LONE GUNMAN office. There is a buzz at the door. FROHIKE goes to the door and unlocks all eight locks and opens the door for MULDER.) MULDER: The latest in home security. FROHIKE: Hey, you get through this, you got to come through me. MULDER: I got a call from Scully. Said it was urgent. (MULDER enters the office. All three GUNMEN are present and also SCULLY in a fetching black turtleneck ensemble.) SCULLY: I'll ask you to hear me out before you launch any objection. Mulder, I asked them to pull up everything they could on Diana Fowley. MULDER: (sigh) I don't have time for this. SCULLY: Mulder, she's playing you for a fool. MULDER: I know her, Scully. You don't. SCULLY: You knew her. You don't anymore. I think we can prove that to you. BYERS: She took a position in the FBI's foreign counter-terrorism unit in 1991. Seven years in Europe. SCULLY: Yet there isn't a single piece of information available on her activities in the FBI files. MULDER: (gives a sarcastic melodramatic gasp) I hope you've got something more than that to indict her with. SCULLY: Travel records pulled from airline manifests that had been purged from her FBI records. Extensive movement throughout Western Europe. Almost weekly trips to and from Tunisia. MULDER: For the purpose of what? LANGLY: That's what we couldn't figure until we took a flyer and we found this. FROHIKE: Mutual UFO network logs. MULDER: MUFON. SCULLY: Special Agent Diana Fowley of the FBI was visiting every European chapter collecting data on female abductees. MULDER: So she's collecting data. Big deal. SCULLY: Or hiding it. MULDER: Scully, you're reaching. SCULLY: Mulder, when I was abducted a chip was put in my neck. When I happened upon a MUFON group filled with women who'd had the same experience. MULDER: So you're suggesting that Diana is monitoring these abductees? Monitoring these tests? SCULLY: You tell me that Cassandra Spender is the critical test subject - the one who could prove everything. And yet, who is watching over her? Mulder, I can prove what you're saying or I can disprove it but not when Diana Fowley is keeping us from even seeing her. Mulder, ask yourself why there is no information whatsoever on Special Agent Diana Fowley. Why she would suddenly happen into your life when you are closer than ever to the truth. I mean, you... you ask me to trust no one and yet you trust her on simple faith. MULDER: Because you've given me no reason here to do otherwise. (Long Pause.) SCULLY: Well, then I can't help you anymore. MULDER: Scully, you're making this personal. SCULLY: Because it is personal, Mulder. Because without the FBI personal interest is all that I have. And if you take that away then there is no reason for me to continue. (MULDER watches her as she walks past him and out of the office.)

Byers was looking at Mulder mouth open slightly.

Langly said “Geez” under his breath

“Of all the idiotic things I’ve ever said to a women, that certainly tops any of it.” Frohike said grimly.

“All right, thats enough out of the three stooges.” Mulder said impatiently.

“You were so mean to her, and all she wants to do is to protect you.” Byers said in disbelief.

Mulder made towards the door.

“Scully is a hundred times the woman Diana is.” Langly added

“Whats the hold she has over you that you’re risking everything you have with Agent Scully?” Frohike said

 “Yeah. What gives?” Byers said

Mulder stopped and turned to them. 

“I have a history with Diana. She’s my friend. I can’t just throw that away because Scully doesn’t like her. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Life isn’t fair. But the woman you love just walked because she thinks you’re the one being unfair.” Frohike said

Mulder scoffed “Love?”

“Oh lets not hide behind pretense here. Its so obvious, its a wonder you two haven’t figured it out yet.” Byers said.

Mulder rubbed his forehead at this fighting with himself about what he was about to say. 

“Did you tell her? Did you tell her we...” He stopped himself looking up at them. He couldn't say it out loud. 

They all looked surprised, Frohike looked indignant. 

“Of course not.” He answered.

Relief flooded him in a way that made him uncomfortably aware he was relieved.

“We wouldn’t do that to her.” Byers said.

“Besides we agree with Scully on this one.” Langley said

“I guess you have to ask yourself if you value your idea of what the truth is, over Agent Scully’s feelings” Byers said.

“It would be nice if she trusted me.” Mulder said  

“She does trust you. She doesn’t trust Diana.” Byers said

Mulder pondered this and didn’t respond.

“We sure don’t.” Frohike said

She’s dirty Mulder. Nobody comes up that clean in one of our searches unless something sinister is at work” Langly said.

“I just don’t get this need to be right, when you’re so obviously wrong.” Byers said

He started toward the door. “Of course you’d side with the pretty lady.” Mulder said exasperated

Thats not why. But the beatiful agent Scully is a good friend to us. And…” Frohike said

“She gives me advice on you know, girls” Byers said

“She calls me on my birthday” Langly said

“Mine too” Byers said

“Mine three” Frohike said

“You’ve never called us on our birthdays.” Langley said.

“I just figured you three sprouted fully formed from alien larva.” He didn’t look in their direction, pulled open the door and left after Scully.

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

He sat in his car and head leaned against the steering wheel. Scully’s words ran through his head. 

It is personal. Without the FBI personal interest is all that I have.  I can't help you anymore. There is no reason for me to continue.

Panic was setting in now. He’d stood up for his principles and for Diana. Thoroughly exasperated with Scully, for not trusting him, not trusting his judgement on a personal matter. They’d become so much closer than they ever had been and she was acting like he was going to run away with Diana or something. At the same time, she’d just admitted to things he was exhilarated and shocked to hear. He’d known they were close, known he loved her, known he liked being her partner. But she’d never talked about the personal side of their partnership. Never made it known she felt like without it, she’d feel the same way he did. That she couldn't continue the work without him. 

He punched the steering wheel and the car honked. A elderly woman, crossing the street in front of his car, with a bunch of grocery bags in her hands jumped and stumbled back. 

He put his hands up to the windshield and yelled “I’m sorry! Sorry ma’am! It was an accident.” 

She gave him a dirty look and recovered her dignity before stalking off. 

He massaged his aching hand and cursed his frustration under his breath. He didn’t want to lose her. Was his loyalty to Diana worth losing Scully? The answer was of course no. He’d never had a partnership or friendship with anyone like he had with her. Nothing he’d had with Diana came close, and they had been… close. He loved Scully. More than he'd ever loved anyone. He was in love with her. Hopelessly. Maybe that was why this theory of hers stung so badly. It was fine for her to shoot him down at work, but this was about a friend. And she didn't trust his judgement. But she could be so stubborn sometimes. Even when there had been a mole in the FBI. Even on her deathbed as she was offering to sacrifice herself for his reputation. She’d been so quick to suspect the only person it seemed they could trust within the FBI. But Skinner hadn’t been the mole. Mulder had been right to go with his gut and not the evidence.

He looked up absentmindedly staring out of the windshield. Evidence. He could get evidence. And he knew three people who could get him Diana’s exact address. He got back out of his car and walked back to where he’d come from.

·˚ ༘ ༊*·˚·˚ ༘ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟﾟ･༘ ☾･ﾟ⋆･ﾟ:⋆·˚ ༘ ˚·˚·༊ ༘ ˚·⋆:ﾟ･⋆ﾟ･*☾ ༘⋆:ﾟ･⋆ ☾ ༘ ˚·˚·*༊ ༘ ˚·

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

@today-in-fic 🙏

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Resistance AU: Healer and Handler, co-author @whump-sprite

Who [ First | Prev ]

The overnight footage from Alex’s cell – and the whole block – has been deleted.

“System update fucked up the datetime on the cameras,” Peterson claims. “The rolling store got cleared early. Nothing I can do.”

It's absolute bullshit of course. Nowhere else in the facility was affected. But Peterson isn’t budging, and if the footage is somehow hidden rather than deleted outright, Ari doesn’t have the tech know how to find it.

She files an incident report for misuse of electronic resources. But unless Peterson's pulled this shit before she knows he won't get more than a slap on the wrist. Even if they don't swallow his “system update” story, he’ll say it was just a fuck-up and they’ll believe that.

She only has three suspects. She can't imagine any of those creeps putting a stooge up to it – there’s no way they’d miss out on the personal satisfaction.

So Ari spends about an hour – in between monitoring the live feeds and answering calls – trawling the recording from the closest untouched cameras, taking note of who enters and leaves the dead zone and when. Going by the blood on the floor this morning, the incident probably happened earlier in the night rather than later, but that’s not a lot to narrow it down by.

Unfortunately it turns out Frazier and Henson were both working last night. It shouldn’t be surprising, they probably talked each other into this petty little show of spite. Ari’s reminded of the time Riven spent a month stealing the ink out of one of the printers just to get under that one analyst’s skin.

She files another report, this one against Frazier. He's not supposed to have access to the healers anymore. But this isn't the first time she’s reported the same damn thing. They'll revoke his clearance, again, and in a few weeks he'll find another excuse to get someone to reinstate it. Probably Peterson again, the little rat bastard.

Probably not Peterson, she doesn't actually think he has that authority. It's just easy to be angry at his stupid smarmy face right now.

Frazier or Henson. 50-50 odds, but if she confronts the wrong one, she’ll look like an idiot. Better to be sure.

She might be able to get the answer out of Riven, he does like to run his mouth. But not today, because Frazier and Henson will still be asleep at home and they probably won’t have filled Riven in on their little ”prank” yet.

Back to Plan A, then.

She takes the time to pick up a plate of cafeteria food for Alex's afternoon meal. It'll be lukewarm by the time she gets it down to the cells, but it’s still better than his usual fare.

She hears the healer jump at the sound of the door. Sounds like he knocked a knee or elbow against the wall or floor. Hopefully not his head. He’s scrambling to get on his knees as she lets herself in.

He’d gotten less scared about that. Ariadne’s never punished him for being slow to get up, or even for skipping the formalities. But it’s no surprise he’s more hasty again with fresh stripes as a painful reminder of proper discipline.

Even though it wasn’t discipline.

“Easy,” she greets him, “it’s just your dinner.” She’s pleased to see his eyes widen with anticipation as he sees what she has for him. He’s not so miserable that he can’t be happy about a decent meal.

He reaches for his hot water first, like always. If she can convince them to change one thing about standard protocol it should be that – or turning the thermostat for the cells up. More heat getting into the healers, one way or another.

She forgot to pick up his sweater from the corner of his cell this morning. She was going to get rid of it, but Alex has struggled back into it despite the dried blood and the rents in the back and despite how much it must have pulled his back getting it on. Ariadne ought to take it off him – it’s going to start stinking soon – but she can’t quite bring herself to. Not while he’s eating.

It was only a couple of months ago she had to hold every bite to his mouth. He’d twitch at everything she said, and he could barely get a flicker of magic out without flinching and choking on fear. He’s doing so well for her. All it took was a bit of a gentler touch.

“I need to know which of them came in here and whipped you.” Terror is immediately stark in his eyes. “I won’t tell them you told me. I’ll tell them I got it out of security, okay? But I need to know. So that I can keep it from happening again.”

He doesn’t trust her. She sees it in his eyes. He doesn’t believe she has any interest in stopping them. Frustration itches, but she pushes it down. It’s a lot more to ask of him than trusting her to let him shower without raping him. He’s still doing well.

“This isn’t negotiable,” she prompts. It only takes the faintest hint of steel to make him flinch. “I’m s-s-sorry –” “I know. I’m not mad – not at you. But I need to know.”

He shrinks in on himself. Patience, Ari cautions herself. Her steady attention and expectation is enough. He’s just scared.

“N-Neil,” he whispers eventually. “I-I mean, F-Frazier, sir.” “Okay,” Ariadne agrees levelly, “Good. Well done.”

She makes herself take a deep breath and turn away from Alex so that he knows it’s not directed at him before she lets herself exhale anger.

“Jealous fucking creep. What a petty, insecure dipshit of a guy.” Alex looks shocked. But there’s something else too, something that could be appreciation or even humour just about edging out the fear. “I’d kick his teeth in if I had the chance,” Ariadne confides with a hint of a hard, conspiratorial smirk. Alex almost, almost smiles back. “I’d…” he starts, but he doesn’t finish the thought.

Ari grins at him anyway, just for a second before she turns serious again. “I will not be telling him that you told me,” she promises, “so don’t you go fessing up, okay? They don’t record audio from these cells, so it’s between you and me.”

The healer looks nervous, but he nods his head. “Okay, sir.”

She’s about to leave him when she remembers about the sweater. It's probably unsalvageable, but…

She crouches beside him and takes the hem to get a better look. As she thought, the blood’s the least of the damage. The fabric is practically shredded, not worth mending even if she was inclined to, which she isn't. Darning a healer's clothes would be ridiculous.

“I’m – sorry sir.” Alex’s voice is suddenly choked, giving away the tears in his eyes. “I – I didn’t have time t-to take it off…” “Hey. It’s okay.” “I would’ve – I d-didn’t want to ruin it but he didn’t –” “It’s not your fault. Hey, listen to me. I’ll get you a new one. It’s no big deal.” His throat bobs as he tries to swallow his tears. “Thank you, sir,” he manages. “I’ll get you a new one,” Ari repeats. “It’s okay.”

She can’t even pat his shoulder. Fucking dipshit Neil. She pats the healer's head instead. His curls are starting to grow in again. He sniffs, and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

When she leaves, Ari’s careful to close the door softly. She changes the code on the lock again. Frazier’s clearly getting his buddies in security to sort it for him, but it’ll slow him down. It’s an obstacle in his way. And if he’s going to be fucking petty, two can play at that game.

Finding Frazier's shift pattern is a little more work than finding Henson’s. He's on nights all week, so Ariadne could catch him tonight by staying late. She doesn't much feel like rising to the bait though, not when she has nothing to use against him and it'd only be giving him the opportunity to gloat.

Before she goes home, she spends another while crawling the security feeds, trying to figure out the options that she doesn't usually have any reason to use.

If she knew how to have the cell footage make a second copy of itself or something, somewhere those assholes couldn't wipe it… but it would probably be an infosec breach if she did.

She'll find something. Frazier clearly doesn't realize what thin ice he's on after the last round of allegations. He doesn't get to mess with Ari's healer.

[f1-disaster-bi]

HI! so just read have xou ever been kidnapped?(accidentally)

And I love it so much

Like max instantly seemingly liking lando

Pierre, Danny and charles just being idiots ( AFFECTIONATE)

And beans 🥹🥹😊😊🥹

I love this so much and was wondering if you are gonna write more of it?

Like maybe a continuation or a series?

Either way I loved it and can't wait for whatever you come woth next ❣️❣️

Thank you so much! I'm so happy to see all the love that people had for that fic, and it was so fun to write! ❤️

It's also funny you sent this right now because I actually have spent most of today thinking about a part two! I did leave it open because I do want to write more of it, and eventually them getting together!

I have an idea for the next part because of this text post!

Basically, the idea I have is a bit of reversal of part one where Max, out and about somewhere (maybe do crime boss things, maybe just shopping), notices two tall panicked men looking around trying to find someone. As he gets closer to them, he realizes that these two guys are looking for someone named Lando and he kinda thinks to himself that there is no way that their Lando is his Lando (aka his kidnapper that somehow got his phone number and might be texting on occasion) until he hears one of them calling out for Beans.

So Max just offers to help them, saying he knows the area and George and Alex are a little weirded out but also grateful for the help. Max goes one way, and eventually is found by Beans, who takes one look at him, barks and leads him to where Lando is who just looks at Max like "Is it my turn to be kidnapped? Where are The Three Stooges?"

[momo-de-avis]

The way republican press, heavily atheist at times, reports on these miraculous events is so fucking funny. In 1895 there was reports of a man being healed of lycanthropy: in other words, they were trying to get rid of his "fado", or fate. Werewolves in Portugal are called men bearing a fate, and to break the curse is to "break the fate". These are the 7th sons who always undress at night at a crossroad and then fuck off butt naked after spinning five times. The way to break the fate can vary from region to region. In the Algarve I believe, the wife has to pick up the clothes and then fucking BOLT back to the house to burn them, and that is because anyone who touches the clothes of a cursed man will attract the cursed man himself so he can attack them.

Anyway in 1895 the way the news report it is so fucking funny. It's something like "last night, three dumbasses were spotted by the cemetery. They undressed the third idiot believing the cold would heal him of his fate, then the absolute clown was poked and two of the three stooges just left the fool there alone, who was taken home with no issue" lmaoo

[the-firebird69]

Three cars on the highway doing exchange of money and a girl and we're sick of you this way you been doing with your vehicles and you're so smart now you're going to kill each other and we need you to those cities are going to be on fire about 2 hours ago when they started to figure it out and it happened because of the finances centers. Large numbers of the idiots are exposed huge huge numbers of them are getting killed and it went from Kennedy and control to him not being in control in 20 minutes and we were ready and the max knew what happen corners were too tons of companies tons of money huge areas will be given up and we'll have both ends of it covered just a giant number of people are heading here and to finance centers but they're coming here with armies and to go after Trump. And our son is in the trenches he says but now the song fits and it is about one of his creatures and hers scunner and is one of the devils no it's a demon. Now there's going to be a lot of people attacking them just a lot and Trump messed with a credit card and that's all it to and now he's done what a loser he is. It's amazing he still hasn't really figured it out and some people are calling him the biggest loser of all time and he's saying it's supposed to be that way and they're saying we don't think so it's not working and you're an idiot we want our stuff back and money back because I lost to them and we're in a war and you saying I'm sorry you feel that way I don't have to cut them loose and they're getting killed for saying it quite a bit and by these other groups you see in movies that are right at them right right next to him in most movies in some sort of fight between his people that he can get killed in and he's a poor person he lives the life of a poor person and now he want him out and we're going to work on it

And tonight is pivotal have control over this loser for our interests alone we should

Thor Freya

I'm going to get a handle on it right now

Nuada Arrianna

This guy is still bothering us with stupid songs that are not pertinent saying dumb things it's in there pissing us off licking and captures because he's weaker I'm getting a very tired of him and he's just a stooge for the max but really you probably took their shifts cuz they don't fear him and he's going to lose them because of his big mouth he's an a****** to me all the time and I mean it this guy is a very mean person and he's being mean to me constantly he's saying it's going to hit me and I don't know what to say back cuz this guy gets hit so much and people don't say that to us because we're with all sorts of stuff this guy's a huge a****** his behavior is far out of the norm and it exceeds all tolerances and it is illegal behavior with regards to his realm and he is not a strong player that he is a continuous and consummate thief but he doesn't have any code for the most part. And a pig is a pig and is a sickle fant and he's a disgusting crude person and one of the most prevalent things that he is he's a bum he's a street person and he likes to be one my husband does not like to be dirty or smell or have untapped hair at all is Mike doing it when he was younger he didn't like doing it he likes to look good and sound good and feel good and this guy likes to feel like crap and he likes to be hateful. He has a real diagnosis from many drinks mostly he is a psychotic killer and I don't want him where he is

He is breaking the law of his realm and the law was established by a bunch of them that is breaking the laws of the land he's breaking our laws every day every few minutes he has had his uses but is time to treat him as a threat that he has become and everyone can hear him it will help us and save us and I think my husband and the fleet is heating up they say soon to be gone and in our possession where it should be.

Hera

The fleet is heating up and what we had was 30% out 20% heated for several days and about 5% of them are out right now and additional 30% are heated no 5% are it's going slowly even though everything is coming apart and they say they planned it in all this stuff for when they launch they're trying to draw it out with just a few days and that one too much we do have a plan and we're going to go ahead with it shortly. Hera is doing good she sees it and it's a light at the end of the tunnel well reminded her that a lot of people have not seen the light at the end of the tunnel was regards to this guy in hundreds of years and when she said was he and I beat the living s*** out of him and that's how it works and it's true so he said it's less of a weight that they're a valid reasons that's what I want people to gain from this and to gather and we are going to post right now

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

[reviewsclown]

Trapped in Paradise 1994

So, with Christmas just around the corner I decided to go for some special seasonal movies, and just in luck. Nic Cage stars in (at least) two Christmas movies, Trapped in paradise being one of them, and the next review incoming the other.

In this movie Nic Cage, Dana Carvey and Jon Lovitz play as three idiot brothers who are all criminals, Bill, Alvin and Dave Firpo respectively. Wikipedia calls this a 'crime comedy' but that's not a real genre, it's a comedy movie about a bunch of brothers doing crimes. "the three stooges if they were problematic" as someone once said, on account of the 2 uses of the R slur during the movie and the movie is all about the many hijinx that ensue with them robbing a bank.

While the movie has a 3.4/10 rating on Rotten Tomatoes I would not go that far in my ranking of the movie, it was never atrocious and while I wouldn't say I laughed at many of the jokes there were still a few that hit, but of course tastes may vary.

I don't know if I would say the acting in this movie was super good, it's a comedy so it gets some leeway in that, and truly the only 'bad' acting to be seen was by Nic Cage, and he's very well known for his acting but sometimes it felt even beyond that and like genuinely just not good acting? but there is still comedy to be found in that

Rating: this movie doesn't really add anything to be honest, like it's not a bad movie but it's not very good either a solid 5/10, this makes a great background movie I believe, something to have on just to have it, maybe sit down and watch it but miss the introduction. Something of that nature.

[ozma914]

A Chocolate Revolution

 Now, before you panic (like I did), keep in mind that this dire prediction has been made before. I even wrote about it in a past column:

The prediction: a chocolate shortage.

Okay, you can go ahead and panic now.

Yeah, it didn't prove to be so bad after 2014, but this is 2023. Everything is proving to be bad in 2023.

The reason for the shortage is, of course, climate change. About two-thirds of the world's entire supply of cocoa comes from Ivory Coast and Ghana in Africa. We think of Africa as a dry place, but West Africa had been getting way more rainfall than usual, leading to the lowest cocoa harvests in decades. The rain makes cocoa flowers fall off before they can bud, and can also cause a cocoa-killing fungi.

As if that wasn't bad enough, there's a sugar shortage thanks to the climate condition called El Nino. So with two of the main ingredients in short supply, major candy manufacturers are raising prices to compensate for a 46 year high in cocoa value. And worse, just before Christmas. What are the odds?

Hm. Just before Christmas. What are the odds?

This is giving me S'More ideas.

I'm smelling a rat, here, instead of a chocolate bunny.

What if it's a conspiracy, designed to put money into the pockets of fat chocolate industrialists. (I'm not being insulting: I just assume anyone who deals with chocolate all day may end up fat.) Maybe they're hoarding all the cocoa and sugar, to make the prices go up? What if the Bilderberg meetings were nothing more than an organized plan to get chocolate into the hands of its members? (which would require a napkin, of course.)

I can see them all sitting around, dipping chocolate into a chocolate fountain, chortling in the way bad guys do. That's why Bill Clinton went over there, to donate his supply of chocolate after Hillary bugged him to eat better. Their Number One is probably a guy named CocoaFinger. Where's James Bond when you need him?

"CocoaFinger, do you expect me to talk?"

"No, Mr. Bond! I expect you to snack! Try the left Kit Kats, they're so much better than the right ones."

Even 007 loves homemade brownies. Stirred, not shaken.

Look, we've put up with pandemics, wars, and so many idiots in Washington that the whole town looks like a Three Stooges movie. I'm done putting up with things. Do they think we'll sit idly by while they stockpile Wonka Bars that rightfully belong in my mouth? I mean,our mouth? Mouths?

It's time for a revolution.

Let's make the illuminati illuminate their secret society Snickers silos, stat. We want free M&Ms, not Free Masons! And quickly, before we all waste down to Skull and Bones! The Knights Templar don't scare us, and neither would a visit from the Men In Brown. All we're scared of is low blood sugar. They can have our chocolate when they pry it from our sticky, delicious hands!

We will not go quietly into vanilla flavored desserts!

We will not let our chocolate vanish without a fight!

We're going to snack on. We're going to survive. Today we celebrate INTERNATIONAL CHOCOLATE DAY!

Okay, that's actually in September, but it's the principle.

Say, did anyone just hear the music from "Independence Day"?

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

Substack:  https://substack.com/@markrhunter

Tumblr:  https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

Oh my gosh, the hidden chocolate supply--that's The Secret of Oak Island!

[gaykarstaagforever]

The free YouTube (and probably elsewhere) movie extravaganza continues with the 2012 Farrelly Brothers' The Three Stooges.

A movie with a 51% Rotten Tomatoes shrug, because even the reviewers who liked it only gave it a mid rating. Because the cast of Jersey Shore is in it for several minutes and they're awful, and apparently we were so sick of them by 2012 that anything including even a passing reference to Snooki had to be punished?

I'm not going to bury the lede anymore. I unironically think this movie is kind of great.

Now let me immediately qualify that:

It is way too long for the way it is paced. The Stooges' antics work better in shorts because of the high number of laffs they pack in. This movie doesn't provide quite enough down-time between the extended frantic sequences, which means a lot of genuinely funny stuff just washed over me because I still needed to recover from my previous laughing. Old Stooges used more musical numbers. This movie starts with one but that's it. Another would have helped.

The cast is great, with Sean Hayes, Will Sasso and especially Chris Diamantopoulos absolutely nailing Larry, Curly and Moe. The children who play the young Stooges are in fact brilliant, Skyler Gisondo maybe being a better Moe than Diamantopoulos. The supporting cast is also genuinely good, aside from the Jersey Shore idiots. But. No one gets much to do besides stand there and watch the Stooges hit each-other. Other than Larry David as an evil nun who keeps getting nearly murdered by the Stooges. I mean Sofia Vergara gets a live rat down her cleavage in a packed car, that then crashes into a lake, which the Stooges then explode with Curly's lobster farts. It's very good and she is very good, but there isn't quite enough of that kind of participation from the other actors.

Get you a man who can do both.

Yes there is at least one fart joke here. I find those funny if done properly, and feel the original Stooges surely would have done them if their heyday had been after Mel Brooks showed the world how funny farting can be. So this doesn't bother me. But some people apparently think fart jokes are too low-brow and that including them here sullies the memory of the noble comedy troupe who made their mark by splitting their pants and kicking each-other in the butts. So your milage may vary.

There are a fair amount of circa 2012 pop culture references. Again, this in particular doesn't bother me in most cases, because the Stooges always did those. This movie is inconsistent about how much the Stooges do or don't know about things, since sometimes they act like they've been transported from the 30s, and then Moe makes a Star Wars reference. But that's a minor nitpick. One of the bad guys calls Curly 'Butterbean.' I laughed.

I however did NOT laugh at all the godforsaken Jersey Shore garbage, i.e., those idiot morons failing to act or be funny in this movie for way too long. This stuff clearly ruined the movie for some people; I'm more forgiving than that, but Christ Jesus why did the Farrellys put all this in here? As a brief reference it would have been lame in 2012. As a major component of the third act? I realize this movie took awhile to make and in like 2009 when they rewrote the screenplay for the 16th time, Jersey Shore was the hottest thing in the still dominant Monoculture. But by 2012, 2009 pop culture felt like it was from another planet. Obviously the Farrellys couldn't know that would happen, and can't be expected to have dropped the whole subplot about Moe being on Jersey Shore so late in production. But this should never have been blown out to this substantial a thing in the first place. Why would you target Jersey Shore fans specifically with your modern Three Stooges movie? Especially once you see how bad these freaks are making actual creative content? It is such a bad, weird flex. Moe goes up to them and hits them and they say "ow!" and "stop, dude!" and it doesn't work for anyone. Minutes of this. The one positive connected to that is Isaiah Mustafa (the Old Spice Guy) being a Jersey Shore producer who 'discovers' the Stooges and believes they are the Next Big Thing. He is, as always, handsome and charismatic, and like everyone else who isn't Ronnie, not given either enough screen time or fun things to do.

The plot is just a retread of the old Stooges motif of them having to save an orphanage by raising money, which always was and still is just a contrivance for wacky antics. They then get roped into a murder-for-hire plot, and everything gets tied together stupidly at the heartwarming end. No harm, no foul. But this movie, pretending to be three shorts linked together, genuinely seems to forget anything plot-related for long stretches of time, only to interrupt itself suddenly with pointless revelations and double-crosses and people pointing guns at real-life cartoon men who are demonstrably immune to explosives and power tools. It makes the whole movie lurch around, and feels like maybe a result of multiple rewrites.

Other than these qualifiers, yes, I kind of loved this movie. I don't have anything else interesting to say about it, because writing about enjoying things is inherently uninteresting. The slapstick is good. The dialogue is snappy and funny. This isn't just a movie where the Stooges are in 2012 - it is an actual Stooges movie set in 2012, complete with typical joke signs and cartoon physics and no one beating the crap out of these deranged, dangerous men. It was intended as a loving tribute to the Stooges, and it nails that in a way that makes me appreciate what they did all the more. Buffonery as a genuine entertainment is a sophisticated artform, and the Farrellys understand that and how to do that and they did it here. And they were patient about casting just the right, though initially unexpected, actors, who could do this stuff exactly right. It is great to watch Hollywood professionals remind us why we pay them to do these jobs.

There is a scene where the Stooges are thrown over a fence as intentionally bad dummies, and in one continuous shot hit the ground, then the actors get up from the exact positions and run off screen. They must have used CG, but I rewatched it 8 times and I can't figure out how they did it. Do you know how rarely 'movie magic' dupes me anymore? It's amazing.

(I, however, believe I know how they got this to work.)

This was a lower-budget movie, and looks like it did...fine? I mean all things totalled it looks like it made a little money. But what a gamble it had to be, and there is no way a sequel or other entries are ever getting made. The Stooges are popular as a perfectly funny thing from a thousand years ago, appealing especially to children, and people like me who wear trucker caps with vulgar puns to the grocery store. Most people either grow out of the Stooges or don't think they're funny in the first place (my mother in particular LOATHES them). You aren't getting a modern Stooges franchise that makes a billion dollars per movie, and you shouldn't. This movie is a solid family comedy and a fun little treat for Stooge fans, that ONLY exists because the Farrelly Brothers had the sway to get it made and made properly and released in 2012. This is never happening again. This is lightning in a bottle. We got real lucky with this one.

Believe me, I would love to see at least another short with these guys, more of Larry playing his violin, them wrestling professional wrestlers, maybe Curly twists his ankle falling from a space station so a new Shemp has to fill in for a third of the movie. They are janitors at a stand-in for Stark Industries and spend 5 minutes assaulting each-other with zany superhero gadgets.

They have all gotten married somehow and each one had a daughter and now there are three teenaged GIRL Stooges who can hit each-other with crowbars and do farts. That'll piss off my favorite part of the Internet!

And no matter how bad all of those ideas turn out, they will still be better than that time The Situation was in a Three Stooges movie.

[thatslayer]

This is not the Valentine's Slay starter you were promised ; @dutyfcrged

Davenk talks a lot, if you can call it talk. Sort of a high-pitched, garbled jabber that Faith picked up just enough of to know when he's shit talking her. He's a rough and tumble little guy, but he doesn't really look it. Not that she'd pick a fight with him in the middle of the night, the dude full-on looks like a big marshmallow holding a gun, strapped in ammo, wearing a beret. And she'll be a monkey's uncle if he doesn't have a cigarette in his mouth, regardless of the fact that he doesn't actually seem to have a mouth. Just. Marshmallow. There literally can't be more of whatever he is, there just can't. Even this universe isn't that weird. Point is, the dude is a chatter box. Usually.

As they make their way through a bustling marketplace, down a long, twisting alley, and towards the red doors at the back of some establishment or other, Faith's noticed that Davenk's been oddly quiet. Stoic, even. So quiet, in fact, that it's starting to give Faith the heebie-jeebies. She side-glances him as they walk, then turns her focus back to her surroundings ---- they had a deal, right? She gives him what he wants, which you're too young to hear about, and he helps her gain safe passage under the Empire's nose. Turns out if you bust out of an arena fight and make your getaway by stealing an Imperial shuttle, the Emperor won't thank you for it. She'd love to not be choked with sign language, thanks.

The longer they walk in silence, the more she feels like turning tail. Needs a calming breath, "So, is this a good alley? Because I'm gettin' real 'bad, crappy alley' vibes, here… Talk to me, Dave." but he doesn't talk, just gives her what she's come to understand as the look of regret (can't actually look, total marshmallow) and reaches for a pass panel with his gun, presses the top of it and it lights up ---- the red doors zip open and Faith finds herself slowly backing away from several storm troopers and a woman who's dressed, hand to god, like evil DEVO without the pyramid hat. Black uniform, smug scowl --- Faith might not know the particulars of that rank, but she's seen it before.

Imperial. And pretty high-up. Too high to be here for her, alone, so there's got to be some bigger fish to fry on this stupid planet. When she spots Davnk again, he's being escorted away by a couple of officers, being urged not to be weighed down by the burden of his guilt --- if he thinks that's a burden, wait until she gets her hand on him and turns him into ugly s'mores. The smug officer begins to speak, but she doesn't get beyond her self-congratulating, "Well, if it isn't-" when Faith collapses into her own shadow. HIts the deck, as it were, kicking one leg out to sweep the ankles out from under DEVO and set her right on her ass in the dust. She pops back up to her feet and takes off, pursued by those idiot Troopers. She knows she can't take them all, not without gaining some high ground first.

She's halfway through a crowd in the market when the first one catches up to her and her Slayer instincts kick in. He grabs her shoulder and when he makes the mistake of turning her around, she comes around with a punch and hits him right i the side of the throat, just beneath the edge of his helmet. Lucky accident but he squeels like cartoon and grabs for his neck, letting the mext two Troopers run right into him. They're like stooges. Faith's often wondered what the highest level of education needed to join the Imperial army is, and she's guessing it involves juice boxes and nap time. At least it's them and not those ink-armored nightmares they sent after her the first time. Those guys are like the Empire's Seal Team, they'll happily fuck you right up with a hoo-rah. Has she mentioned she hates this galaxy? Has she?

The three Storm Troopers scramble to their feet but Faith's already gone. Pulled her scarf and hood around her and ducked into a little bar she'd passed coming into this horrible town. Finds herself a seat, far away from the light as possible but a pale, slender hand grips her shoulder and DEVO's now-familiar, elegant voice warns, "If you run, you leave this town to suffer in your place. Your actions on Olanmar," and the fact that she hasn't killed a single Storm Trooper even though half of them were begging for it and, let's face it, it'd be super easy, "I don't suspect you've made peace with shedding innocent blood." Devo takes a step back, gives Faith the crappiest choice from Crapville. It's no choice at all, Faith knows she's trapped and when she doesn't immediately move to make a decision, Devo sighs and reaches for the weapon at her hip, "Have it your own way." and aims at the back of Faith's head.

[ilikepiner]

The idiot iggy pop

#The idiot iggy pop plus

#The idiot iggy pop series

This week both albums will be reissued in remastered form, along with a seven-disc box set called ‘The Bowie Years’. 43 years on, those two records have become inspirational touchstones for a whole generation of young British bands. LIFE aren’t alone in their love for ‘The Idiot’ and ‘Lust for Life’. His lyrics are so potent and haunting, and he was expanding what he could offer, which you hear on both ‘The Idiot’, with its krautrock influences, and ‘Lust For Life’, which is a bit more rock’n’roll.” “I think those two albums were his way of growing while battling his demons. “He was looking for a different outlet,” says Mez Sanders-Green, frontman of Hull punks LIFE. The two albums he released that year under Bowie’s guidance, ‘The Idiot’ and ‘Lust for Life’, were the lizard-skinned punk icon’s first venture into solo territory since his band The Stooges had imploded in a hail of beer bottles, eggs and jelly beans at the Michigan Palace in Detroit three years earlier. Inspired, Bowie writes a chord progression on a ukulele and turns to Iggy.

#The idiot iggy pop series

Before the show begins the network blasts out a series of beeps in an urgent rhythm that sounds almost like a Motown beat. They are watching their television set, waiting for the Armed Forces Network telecast, which will deliver them their beloved Starsky & Hutch. Pop would change his sound many more times over the years, but The Idiot remains a standout.A Thursday night in the divided city of Berlin in 1977: Iggy Pop and David Bowie are sat together on the floor of their Schöneberg apartment, having come to the conclusion that chairs are unnatural. But no one can deny the influence The Idiot has had on the industrial and post-punk communities. Follow up Lust For Life would eventually go gold in the UK and Bowie’s version of “China Girl” would hit #2 on the UK Singles chart. It has also been criticized as a poor depiction of Pop’s lengthy solo career, though it may be the reason he has one. Many have said that The Idiot is more respected than liked. (Bowie also reworked “Sister Midnight” under the name "Red Money" for himself as well.) And, rather infamously, The Idiot was the last record Ian Curtis played before he hung himself. “China Girl” became a huge hit for David Bowie years later on his best selling album. “Nightclubbing” famously lent its electronic drum programming to Nine Inch Nails’s “Closer” and was prominently featured in the film Trainspotting. While not a big seller, moments have been permanently engrained in the pop culture landscape. “Without the Dum Dum Boys, I can’t seem to speak the language,” Pop sang. “Dum Dum Boys” recounted Pop’s days in the Stooges and what a perfect union they had formed. The eight-plus minute closer “Mass Production” paid tribute to Detroit and the city’s influence on his career, over a repetitive, eerie bass line. “Tiny Girls,” the darkest song on the album, opened with Pop confessing, “Well the day begins, you don’t want to live,” and closed on one hell of a sax solo. Many of the songs utilized a more monotonous Pop including “Funtime,” contrasting the actual idea of a good time. On “China Girl” Pop howled, “It’s in the whiiiiiites of their eyes,” with a passion rarely heard on The Idiot. Bowie would then use this technique on his next album. “Nightclubbing” supposedly took Pop ten minutes to pen lyrically, as challenged by Bowie. The Idiot was filled with all sorts of unique sounding gems. Bowie wrote much of the music while Pop handled lyrics. The results were significant for both artists’ careers. Bowie and Pop tried to create a safe haven where they could both be productive and expunge their demons.

#The idiot iggy pop plus

The drugs were out of control plus the aforementioned Stooges split and mental hospital trip. Iggy Pop was in a dark place before these sessions with Bowie. However, The Idiot is largely credited as the beginning of Bowie’s Berlin phase. Although much of The Idiot was recorded prior to Low, it couldn’t look like Bowie had borrowed ideas from Pop. The Idiot wasn’t released until March of ’77, after the January release of Bowie’s Low. Bowie, looking for a reinvention himself, used Pop for experimentation and would later refer to Pop as his willing guinea pig. Recorded in 1976, Iggy Pop’s solo debut found the singer playing in David Bowie’s toy land. His group had disbanded and after a brief stint in a mental hospital, lead singer of Detroit punk rock group The Stooges teamed up with David Bowie in Europe to release his first solo album.

[firelxdykatara]

i was rewatching a few parts of 7x12 to remind myself exactly how that absolutely stupid clusterfuck of a fight went, and... man it was even more ridiculous than i remember.

first of all, they were on a goddamn airship. tight quarters do not mix well with huge and/or ranged weapons if three grown ass adults decide to start fighting like fucking toddlers who never learned impulse control. especially since it either wasn’t a ship intended as a prisoner transport, or it was the stupidest prisoner transport known to man, since there was nothing separating the area apparently meant to contain the literal actual serial killer from the pilot’s seat. but that’s honestly small potatoes compared to the massive Idiot Balls everyone else on that ship was carrying.

the only one with a functioning braincell was tyrian goddamn callows. jfc

(rant below. this fight pisses me off so so so much. it is absolutely terrible writing. if you have to turn three otherwise competent and intelligent and mature adults into ABSOLUTE BUFFOONS just to make a fight happen so that you can kill one of them, learn how to write better for the love of god)

tyrian callows, known serial killer, sitting there and clearly gleefully spoiling for a fight: it’s taking too long for this show to get to the good part!

robyn hill, an allegedly intelligent woman, who already has her weapon out for some fucking reason (even though she wasn’t even on that arrest warrant and there wouldn’t have been anything stopping her from leaving as soon as the ship landed): ah, yes, this serial killer who is working for someone even worse is a voice of reason i should listen to! i’m going to fire an arrow from inside a pressurized flying metal container that is not meant to have holes punched in it, at a man who isn’t even trying to detain me much less threaten me, because this serial killer thinks it’s a good idea for a fight to start!

qrow branwen, an allegedly intelligent man, who had, up until that point, been urging robyn (who already had her weapon out for some fucking reason) to calm down, and suggesting they just go fucking talk to ironwood to figure out what the hell was going on since they had absolutely no context for anything and qrow himself certainly hadn’t done anything worthy of a warrant being issued for his arrest, so going quietly with clover would have been the intelligent move as that would allow him to talk to ironwood which was what he was asking for in the first place: well, this allegedly intelligent woman just shot at clover, who pulled out his weapon to defend himself, and since i was literally two seconds ago telling her to calm down so that we could make it back to james and i can figure out what the fuck is going on......i’m gonna jump in and attack clover, forcing him to fight to defend himself on two fronts in these very small quarters! i am then going to act surprised when the serial killer, who was sitting there the entire time and who literally egged the fight on because it was what he wanted to happen, gets free and, because he’s clinically insane and also working for salem, something i knew from the start, stings the pilot and intentionally crashes the ship. golly gee, i wish someone could possibly have foreseen this outcome other than the insane murderer i just helped set free!

now, to clover’s credit, he didn’t actually do anything wrong or idiotic on the plane. robyn shot him, and he deflected the shot because he was defending himself. then qrow jumped in, despite trying to calm her down literally three seconds earlier, and clover had to defend himself on two fronts. he had no way of stopping tyrian from getting free because the two idiots who let it happen were attacking him relentlessly, and when the serial killer sent the plane into a dive, he got the hell out of dodge. very reasonable, and even reasonably intelligent.

he tried to bring qrow in quietly, after the crash. but when qrow made it clear he was going to fight, clover obliged--and this was fair too, because he had absolutely no context as to why qrow was on that warrant, and no reason to question it. and since even after clover saying ‘i’m gonna have to take you in’ qrow was saying ‘let’s just go back to atlas so i can talk to james’, it was more than fair of him to try one more time to just end things without a fight.

(i will say, though, that their conversation makes absolutely no sense. clover trying to follow orders because he has no reason to question them, and qrow wanted to talk to ironwood anyway so that would be the easiest way to accomplish it, suddenly means that he and qrow weren’t friends? what??? and then there’s the fact that qrow could easily have shifted into a bird and flown the fuck away to figure out what the hell had gone wrong. i doubt he thought clover would leave robyn to freeze to death [not that she would have anyway, since the show completely forgot the cold was actually supposed to be a severe threat], since by that point he had a reason to arrest her too, and at least in a jail cell she’d have reasonable medical care or at least have time for her aura to recharge.)

but then tyrian joined the fray.

and all of clover’s braincells promptly keeled over and died.

because qrow, seeming to grow back at least one braincell, looked at this serial killing Salem minion and thought ‘ok, he is the greater threat’--qrow wasn’t trying to kill clover, but he knew tyrian wouldn’t hesitate to kill either of them, and if he had even an ounce of intelligence he probably figured out that this was tyrian’s plan the whole time--and switched targets, attacking the serial killer instead.

clover ‘i lost all of my braincells in the last five seconds’ ebi, rather than attacking the known serial killer who was definitely a lethal threat (whereas qrow was not likely to have murderous intent even if he planned to try knocking him out so he could get away), chose to attack qrow again instead. this left qrow initially fighting on two fronts, and incredibly vulnerable as a result.

and here’s where we get the absolute worst decision in the history of mankind.

“you and i have unfinished business.” “i agree. so what say we put the kid to bed and then finish it?”

qrow. that is a serial killer you are talking to. you fucking know that he absolutely means to kill clover, because you are not a fucking idiot. (well, ok, you are, because all your braincells fell out on that plane, but that’s beside the point.) and you’re going to willingly team up with him, signalling to clover that you do have murderous intent, and then you’re going to be surprised when clover winds up dead, to the point of blaming a man who wasn’t even there?!?!?!?!

i’m beginning to think that qrow branwen was snatched away at the beginning of the plane fight and replaced with an idiotic clone, because his writing has not improved since v8 began. but this fight is absolutely the epitome of how not to write a fight scene leading to a significant death oh my god. it’s like a masterclass in mistakes you shouldn’t make, because if you do you will make your allegedly competent, intelligent, and mature adult characters seem like violent toddlers who completely lack impulse control, and that image is going to stay with the audience when one of them continues to do things like blame a man who wasn’t even present at the fight for clover’s death. and the other one mocks the dead man as if she wasn’t the idiot who started the fight that got him killed in the first place (by letting tyrian get free so the rest of it could happen).

[miyuwuki]

👉👈 ignore this if you think its weird. Kazuya bringing his 5yo son to a meeting with Sawamura + Furuya + Mochi. Like they have a reunite meeting or something. And his son being a carbon copy of him (plus the style of his eye glass too) everyone knew right away who is that little one. Its Miyuki's 🥰. Kazuya assuring his son to go first because he has an important call but he was watching from afar because he wants to see everyones reaction including his son too. He wants to see the CHAOS. 🥰😇. Sure Sawamura would pannic for a momnt coz his Senpai turned into a kid by magic but hey. Little miyuki isnt a real 'Miyuki' if he doesnt have the Miyuki attitude 😂🖤. If anything, he is more honest and blunt than Kazuya because kids don't filter their thoughts that much 😂. He wants to play with Furuya and Sawamura as a cather but thats when Kazuya steps in 😂 he doesnt trust these guys playing with him because if they get carried away and pitched their best throws his son would fly away because of their strength 😂😂🥰🥰. Plus his son would demand them to play real like pro athlets because, well its not a Miyuki if he doesnt ask for the best throw right 🥰🥰🖤🖤?? many tourublemakers 🥰😂 but good thing is his son gets along with Mochi very well and no body knows the reason why 😂🥰

miyuki with a child??????? your head seems to be in the right place, anon >:) and the fact that miyuki’s son is just randomly close to kuramochi is the cutest idea ever i am so soft rn

warnings: not a very interactive miyuki kazuya x reader (seido reunion)

dad!miyuki kazuya x reader

mini captain

“miyuki-senpai!”

sawamura shouted, pointing at miyuki and a little boy holding his hand.

“sawamura, you’re too noisy again.” kuramochi said, kicking his back.

“lower down your voice, eijun.” furuya added.

“guys!!”

miyuki laughed at the three of them, not noticing a change ever since they all graduated high school and went their separate paths. today sawamura planned a seido reunion on seido’s field, but only kuramochi and furuya could make it since everyone’s schedule was too tight. miyuki was able to go, but only if he brought your son, kazuno, since you were going to be at work all day.

“long time no see guys,” miyuki said, looking at the three stooges. sawamura smiled and laughed, “miyuki-senpai! i see you didn’t change! your glasses lens are as thick as ever!”

“shut up, you’re the one to talk. your screeching voice still sounds as if there’s a mic down your throat.” miyuki retaliated. sawamura shrieked, firing back at the captain with more bullshit, but their bickering was interrupted by kuramochi who asked, “who’s this little guy? is this kazuno?”

your son hid behind miyuki’s back, a little shy since they all came off so strong. miyuki chuckled and patted his head, “this is my son, kazuno. hey, come out and say hi, bud.” kuramochi, sawamura, and furuya looked at kazuno, who’s cheeks were becoming red the more they stared. “miyuki-senpai,” furuya started, “he kind of looks like someone.” so the three of them looked at kazuno, then at miyuki, then kazuno, then miyuki, then kazuno..

“AHH! HE LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU, MIYUKI-SENPAI!!” sawamura shouted, acting as if he’d just seen a ghost, “THE GLASSES, THE HAIR, THE—”

“wow dad, he is pretty loud.” kazuno mumbled, still hiding behind his father’s back.

“HUH, WHAT ARE YOU TELLING YOUR SON, MIYUKI KAZUYA!!”

“shut up, sawamura. y/n had to work today, so i had to bring him with me. ah, you’re hurting my eardrums.” he pulled kazuno forward and introduced the three boys, “kazuno, this is sawamura, kuramochi, and furuya.” kazuno gave a slight bow, running back to hide behind his father again. “he’s a bit shy,” miyuki said, “but i’m expecting a call soon. do you guys mind watching over kazuno a bit?”

“YES, CAPTAIN! I WILL PUT MY ENTIRE LIFE ON THE LINE FOR THE MINI CAPTAIN!”

a sweat dropped down miyuki face, turning to kuramochi and furuya, “kuramochi, furuya, i leave my child in your hands.”

“HEY CAPTAIN! YOU FORGOT ABOUT ME! SAWAMURA EIJUN IS AMAZING WITH CHILDREN!” sawamura grunted, his eyes turning cat-like.

“ah dad,” kazuno said, “he’s like a cat.”

“i told you.” miyuki laughed. soon his phone rang and said, “i’ll be right back guys.” and with that, he picked up his phone with a “hello?” and went away where the voices of his friends won’t be picked up in the call. kazuno immediately went to kuramochi and held his hand, waiting for someone to speak to kill the awkwardness in the air. kuramochi smiled and held his hand back and asked, “do you want to play catch, kazuno? i’m sure you’re good at it.” kazuno’s eyes sparkled when he looked up at kuramochi and nodded, clearly excited to be playing with his father’s former teammates.

“i bet you’re even better than eijun, kazuno.” furuya said, warming up his arm.

“HEY HEY, WHY ARE YOU POINTING FINGERS, FURUYA? KAZUNO, I WILL TEACH YOU TO BE THE BEST PITCHER EVER.”

“sawamura-san, please be quiet.” kazuno said, covering his ears. kuramochi and furuya kept their laughs in, finding amusement in kazuno’s bluntness. that was miyuki’s kid alright, but sawamura couldn’t get mad— he could only get worked up; he was a kid, after all.

“k-kazuno! i’m sorry!” sawamura stuttered, taken aback at kazuno’s honesty. he bowed at the child repeatedly, not even dazed that he could break his back.

“you’re like a comedy show, sawamura-san.” kazuno said.

“HAHA, SO YOU THINK I’M FUNNY—“

“alright! let’s get a bucket of balls and start playing catch!” kuramochi said, interrupting sawamura before he got ahead of himself. sawamura growled as kuramochi led kazuno to the shed. the other two set up on the field, positioning themselves to form a small circle. kuramochi and kazuno joined, giving mitts to the two and putting on their own.

“looks like the glove is a little big on you.” kuramochi said to kazuno, laughing. kazuno shook is head, “it’s okay, kuramochi-san.”

“ALRIGHT, LET’S PLAY CATCH! HAHA!” sawamura beamed.

from afar, miyuki looked over at the boys, feeling something in his chest when he thought about his former teammates playing with his son. he found it cute, not that he’d ever admit it, but it was making him so soft. when the phone call ended, he took a picture of the group, wanting to save that moment forever and look back on it. “ah, they get along so well,” miyuki said to himself, walking to the group to join.

“furuya-san, your throws go right into my glove.” kazuno said, clear excitement in his voice, “i want to catch your pitches.”

“ha ha! that’s miyuki’s kid alright!” kuramochi exclaimed. miyuki laughed at his son, reminding him of how he was like in high school. “maybe when you’re older, kazu. his pitches are so heavy that they’ll blow you away.”

“what about sawamura-san?”

“no, his are worse.”

“HEY, MIYUKI-SENPAI!!”

kazuno grumbled, displeased at the fact that miyuki wouldn’t let him catch for seido’s former pitchers; which was probably the right choice, due to the strength of the two alumni. “then can i see you play catch with them, dad?” kazuno said, looking up at miyuki. miyuki smirked, eyeing sawamura and furuya. “well, if i insist—”

“please catch for me, miyuki-senpai.” furuya said, an aura spewing around him.

“HAHA IT’S JUST LIKE OUR OLD BATTERY, HUH?” sawamura added, jumping up and down.

“shut up, just get on the mound, you two.” miyuki teased, grabbing the vest and glove to put on. the group didn’t see, but he was extremely happy on the inside, happy to be catching with his former batteries. he felt a spark in his chest and elation in his finger tips. it’s been a while.. he thought. and although miyuki loves the life he’s living right now, with a beautiful wife and an amazing kid, he couldn’t help but wish to go back in time once in a while, just to play with his team again.

“mochi-san.” kazuno said quietly, gripping on his hand again. kuramochi blushed at the nickname, sheepish that kazuno took a liking in him. “do you want me to carry you, kazuno?” he asked, looking down at him. kazuno nodded and raised his arms as kuramochi swept him off the ground. he’s so darn cute, but he looks so much like miyuki that it scares me, he thought. they turned to the field where furuya was on the mound first.

“FURUYA, I WANTED TO GO FIRST.” sawamura yelled, steam coming out of his nose.

“you can go after.”

“alright, furuya!” miyuki exclaimed, “throw me a fastball!”

“look, kazuno. they used to call him the monster pitcher,” kuramochi told kazuno, pointing to the man on the mound. “he can pitch over 150 kilometres an hour, which is very fast. imagine sonic but in a ball form.” kazuno watched furuya, closely looking at is form until,

whoosh.

with a blink of an eye, the ball was already in miyuki’s mitt, the sound of the catch slowly dying down. kazuno gasped, struggling to understand what just happened as he squirmed in kuramochi’s arms. kuramochi laughed at kazuno’s reaction, “right? he was one of the best pitchers back in our days. but sawamura is a different story too, kazuno. he’s stupid but him and your dad was probably the best battery.” kazuno’s breath got caught in his throat listening to kuramochi talk about his dad back then. miyuki was probably kazuno’s biggest inspiration, and hearing that sawamura was able to aid to miyuki’s abilities made kazuno turn his full attention back on the field. there he saw furuya begin to walk off the field to switch with sawamura, who was impatiently waiting for his turn.

“MIYUKI-SENPAI, WATCH OUT FOR MY PITCH! I SWEAR IT WILL BLOW YOU AWAY, HA HA HA!”

“whatever, just pitch already, idiot!” miyuki grunted. he positioned himself again, ready to catch sawamura’s pitch, “you better pitch right into my glove!” sawamura nodded and took a deep breath, showing his relaxed face to everyone watching. kazuno cringed and asked, “why is his face like that? he looks dumb.” kuramochi cackled and replied, “it’s his secret weapon.”

and on the count of three, sawamura threw the ball, putting his entire soul and energy into that pitch. miyuki’s eyes widened as it blasted towards him, suddenly dipping under where the batter would be. he caught the ball with a loud boom that emitted from that throw.

“HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, KAZUNO!!” sawamura said, turning to kazuno and kuramochi. kazuno’s eyes sparkled, truly amazed at sawamura’s pitch. miyuki smiled at his kid and yelled, “kazuno! he was my partner back in high school! his pitches are nice, right? nice ball, sawamura!” kazuno nodded, and wanting to see it again he said, “more! i want to see more!”

sawamura chuckled, “he’s just like you, miyuki-senpai!!”

“well, it isn’t a seido reunion if we don’t play, right?”

pitches were thrown and catches were caught, and soon enough the reunion came to an end; everyone was exhausted from playing on the field all day, sweat running down everyone’s foreheads. kazuno and kuramochi played catch together for most of the time, while sawamura and furuya fought about who pitched better.

“you guys continue to exceed my expectations huh,” miyuki said to sawamura and furuya, “i wish i could catch for you guys again.”

“aw, miyuki-senpai misses us,” furuya said, a loving aura appearing around him.

miyuki just grinned and turned to kazuno, who was still throwing the ball to kuramochi, “kazu, let’s go home. your mom is probably waiting for us.”

kazuno shook his head and grabbed onto kuramochi’s shirt, his grip getting antsy. miyuki’s head cocked to the side, and wanting to tease kazuno, he said, “ouch! kazuno likes kuramochi more than me.” kuramochi chucked and ruffled kazuno’s head, “don’t worry kazuno. want me to come by next weekend? we can play catch again.” kazuno nodded and miyuki sighed, “who would’ve thought you’d taken a liking to kuramochi, kazu. you sure you’re okay with coming by next week?” miyuki asked. kuramochi smiled, “of course! me and kazu are besties now, right?” kazuno giggled and nodded, waddling to miyuki after. miyuki picked him up and bowed to the three, “thanks for bringing me out here, sawamura. hopefully the others are able to join next time.”

“OF COURSE CAP! I WILL BE SCHEDULING ANOTHER ONE SOON!”

“maybe next time kazuno can catch for me.” furuya said, “let’s practice together sometime too, kazuno.”

kazuno beamed, and eventually everyone greeted each other goodbye. miyuki placed a kiss on kazuno’s cheek as he began to fall asleep on his shoulder.

miyuki never said it, but this was one of the best days he’s ever had. he didn’t realize how much he missed his friends until that moment, loving it even more that kazuno got along with them.

BONUS:

miyuki came home, holding a sleeping kazuno in his arms. “we’re home, y/n!”

you came out of the kitchen and smiled at your two boys, “welcome home!” you took kazuno from miyuki’s arms and rubbed his back, “seems like you guys had a lot of fun today, huh?”

“more than we expected.”

I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!! THIS WAS SO CUTE IMAGINING IT. THANK YOU SM <3

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Bestie! I finished it! My one year HC for you as Team Japans manager! I had so much fun doing this snd think I'll do HC's on my main page cause of it.

Pls ignore any spelling and grammatical mistakes. Also it is a little long and there is some slight angst with a happy ending. I hope you like it!

Happy Tumblr-versary again!!

Team Japan x Tiffany

* Sunday for you starts as any other day. Your morning consists of breakfast, coffee and getting ready for work. Oh, work. You've officially been working for team Japan as manager for a whole year today.

* How you loved working for Team Japan! These men adore you, Tiffany! How could they not when they rely you for everything.

* Injured? They go to you. Need a snack or drink? Where's Tiffany-chan? Iwa needs help wrangling in the 3 idiots (we all know which three 🙄), he goes to you.

* Tiffany, our reliable Japan Team Manager. I mean, these boys would not even be prepared for the upcoming olympics without you.

* They might as well be called Team Tiffany... who happens to play for Japan in the Olympics. Too bad the name is too long.

* So cue your extreme excitedness for today! You get celebrate a whole year of working with your favorite boys!

* In the midst of your excitedness, you text the group chat to see how everyone is doing!

(Pls forgive me. I could not find a text simulator app for iphone. I tried 😭)

👑Best Manager👑 (Tiffany): Morning! How is everyone today?

*crickets*

* Huh. That's suspicious. That's weird. These boys never annoy you. Actually, you noticed Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto didn't blow up the group chat like they normally do. Your alarm clock woke you this morning and not one of the three stooges.

* 🤔

* What could be the reason.

* Now it's you blowing up the group chat.

👑Best Manager👑: Uhh is everyone okay?

👑Best Manager👑: Anyone there?

👑Best Manager👑: Is there something I'm missing?

👑Best Manager👑: HELLO?!😠😠😠

👑Best Manager👑: Did I do something wrong? 🥺

* Oh how the turn tables, Tiffany.

* But alas, we finally get a response from the two babies who could never ignore you. But still no answers.

🥰Baby Aran🥰: Sorry, Tiff! We're here but practice today has been real busy!

😊Mama Yaku😊: Yeah, Iwa has been kicking our butts today!

😏Future Hubby Iwa🤤: GET OFF YOUR PHONES! Practice isn't over!

* Hmmm. They started practice without you? I mean, we love the opportunity to sleep in some more but now you're just feeling left out.

* So what do we when we're feeling down?

* MORE ICED COFFEEEE 🤪

* We all know iced coffee cures everything.

* So you grab your coffee and head to work. They can't ignore you when you're face to face with them.

* Right?

* RIGHT?! 😬😬😬

* Wrong.

* You arrive at the gym looking BOOTYFUL. Got your leggings that your ass look 🤌 and repoing your team Japan with your tee and Team Japan Jacket. Let's be honest, Tiff, today is a good butt day. You are killing it out here.

* Now you also got your iced coffee in hand. The earlier mornings shenanigans long forgotten. You are ready to work. We stan a focused queen.

* But alas, you are stopped by none other than a tall big headed rooster at the entrance.

* "Tiffany! I'm glad I found you! I need some help for next week's practice!" Says the bloody overgrown rooster.

* "Kuroo, isn't this something you would discuss with Iwa? The boys are already practicing and I need to get in there. I have to have diligent notes for coach Hibarida. Plus what if those boys need something, Iwa can't handle the idiot circus al-"

* "TIFFANY! I need YOUR help. Iwa and coach told me to ask you"

* 😡 I know this overgrown chicken did NOT just interrupt you mid sentence AND raise his voice.

* But alas, you relent. You'll kill him later. Let's sip our nectar of the gods and move along. You can do this, Tiffany. You got this.

* After following Kuroo to the Coach's office to discuss next weeks training, you feel sort of odd. The training regimen is the same as always. Why did Kuroo need your help for this?

* So you finally ask a question that has been on your mind all morning...

* "Hey Kuroo. Who set up this morning, filled up the water bottles, got snacks, and let the boys know today's schddule?"

* These are all things you do as a part of your job... you know as team manager.

* Cue you overthinking. We're all guilty of this.

* And with overthinking sometimes comes... the waterworks. Pls, when I overthink, I sometimes cry cause it's just overwhelming.

* "Am I being fired? I thought I was a good manager. What did I do wrong? Could I have a chance to redeem myself? I didn't realize I was doing so bad. I understand. I'll go say bye to the boys"

* Kuroo is just like 😳😳😰😰🤦🏻🤦🏻

* He did not expect this outcome. So he says "wait no."

* But you already left. Running to the main gym where the boys practice. You burst in with a deep bow and practically scream "I'M SORRY!! I SHOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER MANAGER!"

* All the men are crazy confused

* Bokuto answers with a half filled balloon in his mouth, "uhh what are you talking about?"

* You finally stand up and see it.

* The gym is semi decorated, Iwa and Ushiwaka are fixing a half strung banner. Bokuto, Atsumu, and Hinata are filling up balloons. Hosiumi and Komori are directing Kageyama, Hyakuzawa, and Hakuba where to put the food and drinks. Sakusa is making sure everything is disinfected and up to his standards of clean.

* You finally ask "What's going on?"

* Ojiro and Yaku come in with a cake and more decorations. Yaku says "aww Kuroo couldn't keep you occupied for a few more mins? We were almost done"

* You ask "You did all this for me? You mean I'm not fired?"

* Bokuto, Hinata, and Atsumu are SPRINTING 🏃🏃🏃

* Atsumu: "FIRED?! Who said you were fired?!"

* Hinata: "Yeah Tiff! You're the best manager we've ever had!"

* Kags: "Hinata! Boke! She's the only manager we've ever had"

* Hinata side-eyeing Kags: "still the best manager tho." 😒

* Girl. These guys took off a whole day to celebrate you! YOU. The best thing to happen to them since... well volleyball.

* Ofc they would never fire you. They wouldn't make it to the olympics without you cheering them on and taking care of them.

* We all know Kuroo got a few volleyballs to the head courtesy of Iwa once he found out what happened. 🏐🏐🏐😰😰😰

* You spend the rest of the day having fun with all the men and enjoying yourself. You couldn't have asked for a better way to celebrate your one year with them.

* After a whole year with them, you deserve a whole day celebrating you and your hard work!! ♥️♥️♥️

I think all your anons can agree that you have made our days better with your presence on our tumblr. Thank you for all that you do. We LOVE you!! 🥰🥰🥰

-Spooky Anon 👻

Djxjsjxudbxuanhxjdbshsj SPOOKYYYYYY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

WHEN I SAY IM CRYING RN, IM CRYING RN!!! I don't think I could love this any more 🥺🥺🥺🥺 thank you so so so SO MUCH for all of this!!! Omg this is- this is so perfect I can't even right now!!!!

I've had such a hard weekend mentally due to the stuff happening here right now (the Roe v Wade stuff) and you have no idea how happy this made me!!! Like I legit feel so loved and supported right now I can't even!!!

What did I do to deserve such amazing followers and friends 🥺🥺🥺 i love you all so much!!!!!! Thank you again!!!

And please Tag me me when you do more HCs!!! I LOVE this style so much!!! And please iced coffee is my ENTIRE LIFE!!! And I'm 1000% an overthinker when it comes to myself!! You nailed this!!!