#that few else in the Hitman world share

[ellenchain]

Vorbește-mi limba!

My headcanon is that both Lucas and 47 sometimes still speak Romanian.

What we know about the institute is that they trained their boys in all the languages that are important in the big wide world - especially English. We'll ignore the fact that IOI simply hired English VAs because it's easiest to market when everyone speaks English.

Makes it unfortunately harder to speak convincingly in other languages if the VAs can't speak the languages in question (e.g. in Dubai, 47 could also speak Arabic, or in Santa Fortuna, Spanish - but I guess David can't speak either).

Still, I would have liked to get some insights into what it's like when our two boys talk to each other. Also in English? Or would they - if no one was listening - switch to Romanian? After all, they grew up there and the staff at the institute certainly didn't speak English so perfectly (if you consider the time in which the two grew up).

I can imagine that Lucas loves to swear in Romanian. Or whenever he gets upset, Romanian words slip into his mouth. 47 probably rather avoids speaking in Romanian. But when Lucas secretly wants to talk to him, he also changes the language.

It would have been nice to get a little insight into their private environment here and there. I'm convinced, it certainly sounds nice when 47 and Lucas talk in Romanian.

What do you think?

[k-kizkhalifa]

The Little Office With The Entrance In The Back

Summary: Harry and Draco are married and living in a small town in Muggle UK called Oldham, and Draco is bored of their Muggle life but, not because it is a Muggle life. He understands why they're living a Muggle life, but no because he is missing something he didn't know he was missing until he came across a very specific genre of movies and books and media, and Harry was just happy to see him smiling again. Tags: CW Mention of Murder, CW Mention of Blood, Cross dressing - exploration (at the moment), Implied slash fiction, a little bit of unhinged!Draco, little bit of a toxic-relationship, humor(?)*, Hitman!AU, a little angst in there (I KNOW BUT IT IS ME WE'RE TALKING ABOUT.) A/N: Y'all I made a mention, @klinefelterrible gave me life, and I probably did something else entirely. Anyway, this may be a one-off, or it may be a collab project (hopeful). (Title is long, will probably change.) ~ kiz

*I'm not as funny as Terrible, so like forgive that and expect some dialogue changes if they still want to work with me on this collab after reading this intro/background. Eh.

Introduction:

The Muggle way of life was everything Harry remembered, but didn’t necessarily miss during his years of learning how to navigate the Wizarding World, but he couldn’t deny there were times it was easier in the Muggle world. For one? He was just Harry -- or Potter, to Draco; but he was just Harry to everyone else.

Harry who now worked down the road in the little office with the only entrance in the back. Yes, that Harry, still, just Harry. Harry in the dark cloak, and sometimes seen with a little wooden stick. No one knew though just where he came from. How he came about. One day, just there, setting up shop, with his husband. 

Draco drew much more attention, at least when they first arrived in Oldham. The beautiful white-blonde haired man with those intense gray eyes and a sneer at most anyone who ever dared to approach. It wasn’t so much that Draco didn’t want to get to know anyone, he just didn’t. He was a little cautious, a little on the safer side. He gave up everything for them to be where they were. Harry away from the spotlight, and Draco maybe a bit on the run. Harry wasn’t blind to it, the way over the last few months life seemed to disinterest his husband. 

Draco had tried everything he could to understand the Muggle ways, so much so that they didn’t use magic much anymore, and then Draco found movies. He had always been one to read, he really enjoyed it and oftentimes would tear through books in little to no time, Harry wondered how he even enjoyed them with the rate at which he consumed them. 

Then the movies. 

Pulp Fiction, though a few years old at the time Draco found it, had captivated him. Paired with another movie he had watched more times than Harry could even attempt to count, something called Fallen Angels. Draco had quickly become so interested in these stories and everything he could find into this newly introduced way of the world of crime, murder, on-the-run-.... Harry tried to be patient and understanding that this was something that Draco felt he could resonate with. That this life was something he understood, in some way. Though, he wasn’t sure he had ever actually killed someone, but he knew in all actuality there were parallels. 

He wasn’t blind to that. 

Harry was not blind at all to those simple facts. At all.

As they stood there, Draco in an outfit Harry had never seen him in before. Some ridiculous retaliation to a comment Harry made in passing as they walked by a shop, a few days ago. A dark gray dress with a slit up the side clinging to the model mannequin and a comment about how good Draco could wear that same exact outfit. 

Harry would like to say he wasn’t shocked when Draco Malfoy walked out of their shared bedroom in the dress, and a pair of rather tall heels, but no, Harry had nearly fainted at the sight. Barely allowing Draco out of the house, and only doing so when the man growled out that he looked too good to be stuck inside for the night when they already had plans. 

Plans at the queer bar in uptown. They had never been, but Draco was all about trying new things since Pulp Fiction and Fallen Angels and whatever those new books he was consuming at lightning speed were suggesting in his mind. 

Harry still didn’t understand how it went from just movies and books and any other media he could get his hands on at the idea of being a criminal murdering people...to where they were now.

Right, right. Back to it. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter standing there on an empty sidestreet around 1:45 AM in Oldham. 

“What the fuck, Draco?” Harry breathed out as he stared down at the lifeless body laying in the street before them. 

“I told you I would do it.” 

“YO-- You can’t just go around-- Draco!” Harry whipped around in shock, staring at his husband. “You killed him.” 

“I told you three drinks ago if he asked you to dance again, I would kill him.” Draco said simply, “he asked you to dance again.” Harry blinked, glancing back at the body before him. He had seen Death before, sure, of course, he had... well, but this was different. This was Draco Malfoy killing someone, more importantly this was his spouse killing someone. 

“Draco.” Harry took a breath, tilting his head back and looking up towards the dark sky, “you have to be fucking kidding me right now.” 

Draco extended a leg, nudging the arm of the man with his heel before making a face, “he got blood on my dress.” 

“You don’t fucking say?” Harry, still focused on the sky, snapped at him. “You sliced him from ear to ear.”

Draco didn’t answer, not for a moment, and Harry didn’t look. He couldn’t. Not right then. Because his only thought was, he is fucking insane. Harry had seen it, the moment it happened, the smile that flashed across his face as lunged forward quick and nimble, even in the high heels. The smile reflected the feeling on when a joint pops -- you know the tension in your ankle as you stretch and roll it slowly and pop there it was, the relief. That’s what the smile told Harry. The relief that Draco seemed to be searching for. 

“Are you mad?” 

“I’m not ecstatic, if that is what you are asking, Draco.” 

“No, I-- Look, I mean you’re either going to help me with this, or you’re not.” 

“Or I’m not.” Harry said evenly, giving him a once over, “this is your fault.” 

“Mm,” Draco nodded, “my fault?” 

“You’re the one that did it, right? Your fault.” 

Draco sighed, and gave a look around, before pulling out his wand. He gave himself a once over clean, very focused on the blood staining his dress before stowing his wand again. Harry fought back a laugh, despite everything that had happened over the last ten minutes, because lord knew he didn’t check his surroundings before cutting the man’s throat. My husband is insane, Harry thought while watching him clean himself off, I mean, absolutely insane. 

“SO,” Draco said suddenly, “at least carry him for me, I’ll put... your jacket over him.” 

Harry shook his head, “I am not dealing with this.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes, offering a pout, “you’re just going to leave me out here, alone, on a Saturday night?” 

“I think you can handle yourself,” Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Potter!” He whined, stomping his foot, the sound of his heel clacking loudly on the pavement. Harry flushed in excitement, his body responding and for once he might have hated himself for that response. “I’ll do that thing you like.” 

“Which thing?” 

“You know, the one I don’t.” 

“I don’t think there is anything you don’t like, Draco.” 

Draco sighed, and folded his arms, “just help me.” 

“This is it,” Harry jerked his jacket off, tossed it over the bleeding, dead man on the ground and bent to heave him up. “Don’t talk to a single fucking person.” 

“There is no one out here,” Draco answered, happy as Harry turned and led them down the road, “where are we going?” 

“How am I supposed to know? You tell me, you’ve been studying for this, apparently.” 

Draco laughed, Harry glared. “Sorry, sorry,” the blonde said softly, “I... it just happened Potter.” 

“No, you told me you wanted to do it and then you did it. That is a planned murder.” 

Draco glanced around, spotting off to the left 10 or so dumpsters behind a locked gated fence. “Over there.” 

“Someone will find him,” Harry said, though he followed as instructed. He was always very good at listening to instructions. 

“I mean we’re Wizards aren’t we? We can get all our evidence gone.” Draco said, his wand out again, and Harry watched the gate open and they stepped in. “Oh gods.” The blonde groaned, covering his nose, “hurry up!” 

Harry fought the urge to give him a look of annoyance, and he heaved the man off his shoulder to the ground near his feet, peeling his coat from his bloody upper body. “Do your magic then, Draco.” He said with a wave, stepping back slowly, to give Draco some space. 

“Who is there?” 

Harry froze, and Draco stood there, looking over his shoulder as he slipped his wand away. “I saw you open the gate!” The voice met them again, before light flooded them and the sound of a gun cocking.

“We were just... uh, having some fun.” Draco said, peering around Harry. “Right, honey?” 

“Yeah, fun.” Harry nodded and turned around slowly, arms raised. “Just fun.” 

“In the tras-- is that a body?” 

“No.” “Yes.” 

Harry fought back a groan, fuck! Draco gave them a very passive look. 

“You killed that man, and brought him here to dump?” 

Neither answered that time. 

“Stay,” he said, and Harry watched as he gave a wave to someone off to the side. “I got someone for you to meet.”

Draco glanced over at Harry with that smile. That relieved smile on his face. That the joint just popped smile right across his beautiful alabaster face, his gray eyes bright and playful for the first time in months, hell maybe even a year. Harry didn’t know, but it had been so long since he had seen his husband like that, since he had seen his Draco like that. He felt his heart stutter, love filling him all over again. 

“Good thing we’re Wizards, eh?” Draco winked.  

After the ‘someone for them to meet’, a guy named Darian, talked them into employment, really it wasn’t like Draco needed much convincing. It was Harry that needed it the most,  and love, some of the most cliche shit he could ever think of, won over in the end. 

Or, maybe it was the relief that Draco felt. The playfulness in his eyes, the smile on his lips. Harry lost enough more than once to the world, he wasn’t in the habit do it anymore. He wanted Draco safe, and he wanted to see that smile. No matter the cause of it. 

So, he was Harry. Just Harry, that Harry.

In some Muggle town with the little office and the only entrance to the building in the back walking in with his dark cloak, and two cups of coffee, greeting his husband with a kiss and a good morning as he drummed his long black nails on the desk while on the phone, using some codeword for money, and some codeword for killing, and come codeword for they’d be available that evening to check it out.

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

Harem reverse

(I am working through the backlog at the moment, so for anyone curious: REQUESTS ARE STILL CLOSED. But these are my requests from years ago, that I am finally answering now that life is marginally less bad.)

Person A is an assassin/hitman and is unaware that through their work, they’ve caused a lot of reapers to develop crushes on them. Now Person A’s moment of death is coming up and the various reapers, Person B+, are all trying to take a chance and making Person A fall for them so they can claim Person A’s soul when they die.

Person A is a firefighter who is frequently known for being reckless but blessed for getting in and out of very dangerous situations that their coworkers wouldn’t dare. What Person A is unaware of is that since they’ve been a pyromaniac since childhood, they’ve caught the eye of quite a few fire spirits/demons/etc. And those beings, Person B+, are keeping them safe from harm. One day, Person A gets themself in such a dangerous situations, that one of the spirits has to appear before them to get them out of it, and the rest take the opportunity to start approaching Person A in their daily life, to try to flirt with them.

Person A lives in a very artsy part of town and often goes jogging, walking their pet, gardening, and other outdoor activities that make them recognizable within their neighborhood, but is unaware of the various hermit artists who watch Person A from their windows and have been using Person A as their creative muse for some time. When Person A attends a local art gallery, they end up seeing some works that remind them of themself/that they relate too, and makes a comment to the artist, Person B, about how well they captured the moment (ex: a pet owner interacting with a pet, someone gardening, etc.) and how they must do that hobby themselves. Person B doesn’t want Person A to think they’re stalking them, but mentions they people watch for inspiration, but uses the conversation to try to befriend Person A for real. The other artists, also at the gallery, get jealous and also start trying to be more social and outdoorsy to get chances to interact with their muse, Person A.

Person A is a dragon, guarding an item that the governments of the world have realized is very dangerous and could be used as a weapon beyond anything else. Person B+ are the various actors each country sends to try to win over Person A, steal the item, coerce Person A into giving it to them, etc. Person A just doesn’t know why they’ve suddenly acquired a harem, but wants to make their harem happy and make it so they never want to leave.

Person A is a god of life and has immense healing and plant/animal powers. Person B+ are the biologists, doctors, and similar academic field researchers who are trying to convince Person A to help them with their research and/or let them research Person A. Person A gives them a set window to win them over and convince them, and invites them to one of their secluded homes for the competition. Person B+ quickly start to get sidetracked by finding a being of immense power who shares all their various nerdy interests though.

[blowflyfag]

RINGSIDE WRESTLING : JANUARY 1997

Ringside Roundup

All the News from Coast-to-Coast

We would like to welcome everyone to our Ringside Roundup. Since our last issue quite a bit has happened on the wrestling scene. For starters the nWo continues to grow. Depending on who’s counting, there appears to be eight members in the organization: Hollywood Hogan, Scott Hall, Kevin Nash, Ted DiBiase, the Giant, “Six” (formerly known as the 1-2-3 Kid), the “fake” Sting and the new CEO of security, Vince.

If Vince looks familiar it’s because in his former life he was Ted DiBiase’s bodyguard, Virgil. More members are expected to be added to the nWo in the very near future. The Nasty Boys will be nWo members shortly and both Bam Bam Bigelow and Bret Hart have been mentioned as possible nWo members as well. 

[ECW head honcho Paul E. Dangerous, along with wrestlers Sandman, Tommy Dreamer, Taz, Bubba Ray Dudley and Pitbull #2 were at ringside for the start of the WWF “In Your House” pay-per-view, but they didn’t last long. By the end of the first match, WWF security had asked them to leave. Is this the opening salvo in another inter-promotional war?]

Hart incidentally is a free agent and has yet to resign with the WWF. Meanwhile, the Hitman is being wooed heavily by the nWo. They have reportedly offered him a three year contract at a million dollars a year as well as a guaranteed three-movie deal with one of Ted Turner’s movie companies. 

Right now Bret is living in an apartment in Los Angeles and he is taking acting lessons. In addition he had been going on auditions and making the rounds of the TV and movie studios. Although Bret would like to make it in Hollywood on his own, Ted Turner’s deal sounds awfully enticing. 

[Will Bret Hart resign with the WWF or join the nWo?]

Just when the nWo and WCW have begun to fight it out, the WWF and ECQ have also begun an interpromotional war. At the recent “In Your House” pay-per-view from Philadelphia the ECW contingent was in full force. Sitting in the first row were Tommy Dreamer, the Sandman and Paul E. Dangerously while in the lodger were Saturn from the Pit Bulls, Bubba Ray Dudley and Taz. As soon as the ECW guys entered the Core States Arena, the ECW chants begun. Then the moment the pay-per-view went on the air the Sandman, Tommy Dreamer and Paul E. began to taunt Savio Vega.

[“Zillionaire” Ted, who seems to be providing the New World Order with much of their financial backing, shares a moment with RINGSIDE editor George Napolitano.]

At one point the Sandman even threw beer in Savio Vega’s face. Finally when the ECW crew refused to stop they were escorted from the arena. Obviously their outburst gave ECW the international exposure that they have been craving. If nothing else ECW received more exposure out of this than they ever imagined. Paul E. owes “super fans” Charlie Vladimir and Chris big time for giving up their usual first row WWF seats so that the ECW guys could sit there. 

[The Nasty Boys are rumored to be nWo-bound]

First there was a fake Stinge. Now there are a fake Diesel and Razor Ramon too! While the “orginal” Diesel and Razor Ramon, Kevin Nash and Scott Hall respectively, are now doing their thing in WCW as part of the NWO as “the Outsiders,” the WWF has replacements to reprise the roles of Diesel and Razor in the WWF. Playing “Diesel” is Glenn Jacobs better know to WWF followers as the awful Issac Yankem. The Razor Ramon character is being played by Rick Bogner: AKA Big Titan in Japan.

During an ECW appearance since Titan came out as “Slice and Dice” Ramirez and in all honesty he was a better “Razor” than Razor! With Brian Lee still around, chances are good than he may reprieve his role as the Underfaker, I mean the Undertaker, should the real Undertaker leave for WCW when his WWF contract expires in a few months. One really knows what the WWF hopes to prove by having two other wrestlers portray characters that have since left the company. On the face of it, this does appear to be a very stupid move, but it may actually work out to the WWF’s advantage as the fans will surely boo the two new guys unmercifully. If they get the reaction that they are hoping to, the WWF will have created two new characters that should get a lot of negative reaction.

[Playing “Diesel” these days is Glenn Jacob’s better know to WWF followers as the awful Issac Yankem]

The September 23 editions of Monday Nitro and Monday Night Raw were sensational.  The highlight on the first hour of Nitro was the WCW tag team title match between Public Enemy and Harlem Heat. When the final verdict was rendered, Public Enemy was declared the new WCW tag team champions by controversial referee Nick Patrick.

During the second hour the nWo took WCW hostage. The nWo took control of the set and ran the entire show. The Giant was the ring announcer; “Billionaire” Ted DiBiase, Hall, Nash, and Hollywood Hogan served as the color commentators; while new CEO of Security, Vince, held Eric Bischoff in check the entire hour. 

On Raw, meanwhile, Marc Mero defeated Faarooq to win the vacant Intercontinental title and the WWF introduced their new “Razor.”

Besides having WWF Intercontinental champion their are new WWF tag team champions, too. On September 22, at the Philadelphia “In Your House,” Owen Hart and the British Bulldog defeated Billy and Bart of the Smoking Gunns to win the tag team title. Now the Gunns are at odds with Billy feuding with Bart. Meanwhile, the devious Sunny is the real reason that the Gunns are at odds. 

[The lovely Kimona Wanalaya is among the talent being used by the new AWF!]

Brian Armstrong, better known to WWF fans as the Roadie, has returned to the Federation. On his return, Armstrong revealed that it was he and not Double J who actually was the voice behind Jeff Jarrett’s song “With My Baby Tonight.” This time around however, Armstrong will be wrestling and not working as someone’s gofer. 

Doug Furnas and Dan Kroffat made their ECW debut and wrestled Sabu and Rob Van Dam in an incredible tag team match. After the 30-minute time limit had expired neither team had captured a fall. Look for Furnas and Krofatt to wind up in the WWF.

Look for the American Wrestling Federation to make its 1996 debut on your local television station within the next few weeks, On September 15, AWF Champion Tito Santana, Sgt. Slaughter, Road Warrior Hawk, Missy Hyatt, Kimona Wanalaya, Ken Resnick, Rico Suave and CEO Paul Alperstein were in New York at the All Star Cade to announce that the AWF were coming back on the scene. With the way WCW and the WWF have been drawing in the past several months it looks like there is room for another organization. That’s all for this issue. Look for us again on your favorite newsstand next month!

Until then, see you at RINGSIDE!

[gloryundimmed]

"N-no, no, open yer mouth--" Loux clumsily laughs, head nodding this way and that, skin slick with sweat - evidence of his own high. A familiar chill down his spine, he wanted to share it. Have him swish a few drops of liquid noxium around on his tongue and feel the instant burn, the instant erection, the sudden coldness, the sudden breathlessness. Under the tongue, between huffy, sloppy tongue-kisses, more and more to come after - both. A little pushy, a little over-eager, but all he wanted was a certain oneness he couldn't get anywhere else.

Slowly, surely, every move he made dragged, but each meant something, even as the high twisted his mind, made him shiver for different reasons. He loved Kai, loved him more than anything - his linivè, his world, his everything. Did he know? Even now, in these sordid moments, that he loved him above all? "I love you, fffuckin'...love you," he slurred, even, casting aside the noxi, fingers tangling into black hair more and more sloppy kisses, he just-- "Love you so...much..."

Letting out a chuckle of his own, he quit being a tease and finally opened his mouth to receive the drops of noxium Loux provided. He could never refuse him, but it’s not like he wanted to, anyway.

As they settled on his tongue, he shuddered, giving in to the way the drug made him feel and leaning against his lover. “Mmmn, feels fuckin’ nice,” he murmured into a kiss, his movements becoming less precise with each moment.

But even better than any drug was the confession of love, causing a familiar heat to rise in his body. He accepted every sloppy kiss and met them with his own, Loux’s words resounding in his head as he climbed over to sit on his lap. Deft fingers snaked up his boyfriend’s shirt to feel his skin, the dampness and warmth of it, as he broke the kisses to nibble at his ear.

Kai chuckled again as the high affected him, and he let out a blissful sigh. Each and every touch got to him in this sensitive state, and the teasing feeling of Loux’s fingers in his hair was enough to excite him. Taking hold of the other’s hand, he led it to the hardening length in his pants. It took very little for him to become like this when he was involved. This, too, was an expression of love. “I love ya, baby. Really do. Can’t y’tell?”

The hitman smirked, tongue already slipping into Loux’s mouth for more. He could never get enough. Never.

[delphicvoiceaddragh]

I'm not generally the sort to make this sort of post (normally I'd reblog someone else's), however I have not seen anybody on Tumblr talking about this.

Stop Killing Games is an initiative started by Ross Scott (A.K.A. Accursed Farms) to combat the practice of game publishers making online-based games inoperable following the end of official support. They intend to do this by petitioning several governments across the globe to ban the practice, as well as making an example of Ubisoft by reporting them to consumer protection agencies regarding The Crew.

On the website I have linked above, there is information regarding what you can do to help whether or not you own a copy of The Crew. As of 25/04/2024, there is specific information for:

France (summon a legal mediator if you own The Crew AND contact a consumer advocacy group with a good track record in defending the rights of game owners)

Germany (unlike most EU countries, the Verbraucherzentrale CAN prosecute Ubisoft, and you are not required to own The Crew to contact them about this)

Canada (petition pending approval)

The UK (petition open for signatures until October 16th)

Australia (petition open for signatures until the 20th of May, you can also contact Ross Scott directly to be put on a list of affected customers to be sent to the ACCC as part of a larger complaint if you own The Crew)

The US (TBH y'all are kinda fucked but you can contact the FTC if you want)

Brazil (there is discussion of a class-action lawsuit being filed against Ubisoft in the future)

Countries under the EU (sometime in a few months, citizens of EU countries may be able to sign a European Citizen's Initiative to ban this practice, however it requires over a million people to sign within a year)

All countries on this list have instructions in their national language regarding how to contact relevant agencies regarding the shutdown of The Crew and potential consumer rights issues surrounding it, and the website itself is available in multiple languages. There are also instructions for contacting France's department for consumer affairs (DGCCRF), which can be done regardless of location as long as you can prove you own The Crew AND have contacted Ubisoft regarding this issue.

To be clear, this movement is NOT asking publishers to keep game servers online forever. That is an unreasonable demand. To quote the FAQ page, "What we are asking for is that they implement an end-of-life plan to modify or patch the game so that it can run on customer systems with no further support from the company being necessary." This means that titles where connecting to a central server is required to run/play the game, whether necessary for gameplay (e.g. MMORPGs such as World of Warcraft) or not (e.g. always-online DRM ala SimCity (2013)), and that server shutting down rendering the game wholly unplayable. This is also NOT intended to apply to games that have online multiplayer or other online-only features (e.g. the HITMAN World of Assassination trilogy), as these are still playable with or without the central server, and are only missing some features.

Games as a service (and software as a service in general, tbh) is a terrible business model from a consumer standpoint. You own nothing, even though companies will make it look like you do. They can take whatever you bought (under the assumption that you'll have it forever) whenever they want and leave you with no recourse. From an archival standpoint, it's even worse. Before, companies were overwriting source code, but at least you could still archive the final product. Now, they're completely disabling finished and published titles with little chance of anybody being able to get them running again. This industry has a problem, and it's about time it got nipped in the bud.

Share this information as much as you can. I don't give a fuck if you reblog this post or not. Just get it out there. And if you can, act. Sign the petitions. These are official e-petitions, if they get enough signatures, they will be going to the respective governments for discussion. If you've been affected by the shutdown of The Crew, or hell, any similar issues, contact your local consumer protection agency. Sign up for the mailing list so that you can stay updated and find out what else you can do to help as new information is discovered. Do something to stop the loss of more games and the erosion of consumer protections.

[therappundit]

"For you, I recommend...” - The Rap Pundit’s Picks From the First Half of 2023

****PART 1 of 2****

*If you are interested in tracking my favorite songs released in 2023, I will be updating this 2023 Tidal Playlist all year long*...and yikes it’s already ridiculously long.

https://tidal.com/playlist/2a4cccc0-19db-4ef2-8ad9-d29e866ef672

Been a while, how’s everybody doin’?  Me, I’m just doing the same ol’ husband/father/jaded American worker thing, exhausted but well aware of how fortunate I am.  As with any art, the irony is that inspiration is too often tied to depression, frustration, and a need for change.  I regarded the past few years of rap music as some of the strongest in recent memory, which is not a coincidence, considering how increasingly unhinged our world appears to be.

From the standpoint of major releases, strong underground releases, and a growing range of different sounds and aesthetics, I would argue that 2022 could go up against any of the greatest years in the history of rap music.  The nostalgia factor will always hold court over recency bias whenever folks who claim to be in the know get into such conversations, but I think 2022 had something for everyone - and those somethings were at the highest level that each respective lane has to offer.  Now here at the midpoint of 2023, we have a year that is extremely shallow when it comes to noteworthy releases trickling down from household names that loom large over mainstream rap music, but instead there are a seemingly unlimited amount of under the radar gems washing up on our streaming shores on a weekly basis.  In 2023, if you want to hear the best rap album of the week, there’s a good chance that it won’t receive a shout-out from On Thin Ice’s New Music Friday post (but a HUGE s/o to CROWNTHEM and RapSurvivalGuide for digging deep every week, and not just catering to your own personal biases or whoever kisses your ass for a slice of that sweet, sweet Twitter Share pie...but I digress).  ;-)

For the past decade my musical tastes have shifted, grown, and sharpened, and while getting older has certainly played a factor, my own interests in rap music have expanded due in no small part to the names I mentioned above, as well as many others.  Thank you all for doing what you do every week, it takes discipline, a good ear, but above all else, a real passion for the music and artists that share their gifts with the world.  Staring down at the back half of the year (July already!?), I hope to continue to share the same love for the art form, and put at least a few folks on to dope songs or albums that they otherwise may have missed.

So for my “Best of 2023 so far”, I tried to do the following:  pick *some of* my favorite songs of the year, NOT IN ANY PARTICULAR ORDER WHATSOEVER, choosing one song from each artist (not including features or producers, both could have multiple showcases within the list below), and trying to touch on all of the different styles of rap music that I love.

Hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts, and see you when I drop Part 2 (which I’m aiming to do within the next two weeks).....

🙏

“Fair Oaks Drive” - Ace P feat. Righteous Emcee, Juice Lord & Knucky

https://dontaskwhy.bandcamp.com/track/the-proof-prod-roper-williams

“Veracruz” - Che Noir feat. 7xvethegenius

https://bigghostlimited.bandcamp.com/track/veracruz-ft-7xvethegenius

“OPEN LETTER” - dp0mmy feat. K9shmere

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7vaRgkzbBw

“Swing!” - KING VISION ULTRA feat. Nakama

https://algierstheband.bandcamp.com/track/swing-with-nakama

“Red Jacket 6″ - MIKE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G1AZB7ZxNf8

“Auntie Crystal” - Jae Skeese

https://jaeskeeseofficial.bandcamp.com/track/auntie-crystal-explicit

“STARS” - Papo2oo4 feat. YL, Starker & DVNTBEATS

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4lBqeubo4M

“Hitman Synopsis” - Freddolo & Charlie Mayo feat. Blu

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLBR-TE8BjI

“Gerald’s Flattop” - SickInTheHead

https://soundcloud.com/sith92/geralds-flattop?in=sith92/sets/smokin-boots

“Pressure” - Wulf Morpheus feat. Silky Southern & BACKSEAT [S]MILES

https://soundcloud.com/wulfmorpheus/pressure-feat-silky-southern-backseat-smiles?in=wulfmorpheus/sets/epp

“Imported Goods” - Kadeem feat. Caliph, Avenue, & Latrell James

https://itskadeem.bandcamp.com/track/imported-goods-feat-caliph-avenue-latrell-james-prod-by-god-damn-chan

“Woke Up” - Jay NiCE feat. Big Cheeko, T​.​F & Jansport J

https://nicesupreme888.bandcamp.com/track/woke-up-feat-big-cheeko-t-f-prod-by-jansport-j

“SOUTHSIDE STORY” - Hoodlum

https://tidal.com/track/286322005

“Already” - EastsideEggroll

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GL8Qk1h9Ws&list=OLAK5uy_n7zKo_AAp5vLgvFZH5BowfcuRs7VZSVvc&index=4

“Top Of The Morning” - Talibando feat. Samuel Shabazz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67Nrh4kOcBw

“Pistachio” - MVW, Valee & Zelooperz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7YpBd09TGc

“Really Him” - Mike Shabb

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptUo-N6cWgE

“Look Closer” - The Legendary Traxster feat. Buk Of Psychodrama

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GyhTwWglaIk&list=OLAK5uy_k61kabHMaTugmcIsGP0BAWmja7XF6sD5M&index=16

“Family Tithes” - Gnarly Marley feat. Martyy Jugg, Esoderic & The Abnorm

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXGi9QDPP94&list=OLAK5uy_lOKtMuI2x9AnUeGKsx7FxtbxVWK5lgOXk&index=6

“STOOP” - Akhen feat. Roscoe P Coldchain & Lord Maskoff

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivVEnzMBOuA

“Boat Interlude” - Veeze feat. Lil Yachty

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69jRaPHx0vk

“Club Spook” - Popstar Benny feat. $pook

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRgCcHoioug

“Stand On It” -  DaBoii feat. Philthy Rich, 4 rAx & Mac J

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBmejHaDpVo

“Top G” - King Hendrick$

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzSHrpp3n68

“Okra” - Young Nudy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4YxcS_SNRA

“Bipperz Anthem” - KP SKYWALKA & Lil Dude

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iftj9Sud6nk

“'86 TESTAROSSA“ - Curren$y & Harry Fraud feat. Rome Streetz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBUpBbucBMY

“Starting Lineup” - Murs & Wiardon feat. Larry June & ICECOLDBISHOP

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ienLlyytWK8

“Chit Chat” - French Montana & DJ Drama feat. A$AP Rocky & Smooky MarGielaa

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KaR_ZRLcLqI

“Basket” - DaeMoney feat. Babyface Ray

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvNkAPFwS2o

“Woedy” - Rob49 feat. Birdman

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zihkny_M42Q

“PILL FORM” - 2 Eleven & T.F feat. Rome Streetz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkX7cS7jZeM

“Hollow Way” - El Michels Affair & Black Thought

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYqcfCtRARM

“I USUALLY SAY HOW I FEEL” - Tree

https://mctreeg.bandcamp.com/track/i-usually-say-how-i-feel

“Boom (Mouskatool)” - Mello Buckzz feat. Amari Blaze, Moni Da G & Kashh Mirr

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AMwuCjoNeA

“Fuck Mr T” - RRB Lil Mel & RRB Cheese feat. feat. RRB Duck & SME TaxFree

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E1kI8DBl5No

“Ron Artest” - Babyface Ray & 42 Dugg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LqP7EwfbroE

“Slipping Into Darkness” - Hit-Boy & The Alchemist

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqeK6BIS_pQ

“Three Kings” - Wiki feat. Big Ouee & Papo2oo4 

https://wiksetnyc.bandcamp.com/track/three-kings-ft-big-ouee-papo2oo4-prod-juju-merk

“Ghetto To Meadow” - Oddisee feat. Freeway

https://oddisee.bandcamp.com/track/ghetto-to-meadow-feat-freeway

“Eastside” - Jay Rock feat. Kal Banx

https://tidal.com/track/300682190

“Gurd” - Drego fest. Beno

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2EuvC5NjaM

“F**K Yo’ Set” - DJ Rude One & RXK Nephew

https://djrudeone.bandcamp.com/track/f-k-yo-set

“Brucifix” - Conway The Machine feat. Westside Gunn

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slqKjNdjseU

“Foie Gras” - Your Old Droog

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Udq9HXLmnKs

“Robbers Cave” - Sleep Sinatra feat BloodMoney Perez, Sekwence & KlwnKat

https://sleepsinatra1.bandcamp.com/track/robbers-cave-feat-bloodmoney-perez-x-sekwence-prod-by-klwnkat

“The Proof” - YL

https://dontaskwhy.bandcamp.com/track/the-proof-prod-roper-williams

“k.o!” - Raz Fresco feat. Daniel Son

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tuxx33m_AdI

“PBS Kids” - AJ Suede & Televangel feat. Mr. Muthafuckin Exquire

https://fakefour.bandcamp.com/track/pbs-kids-feat-mr-muthafuckin-exquire

“Class” - Spectacular Diagnostics feat. Curly Castro, Illogic & Defcee

https://spectacular-diagnostics.bandcamp.com/track/class-ft-curly-castro-illogic-defcee

“hue_man nature” - Saba & No ID

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o01_JnGtj8A

“Smug” - Nappy Nina feat. maassai

https://nappynina.bandcamp.com/track/smug-feat-maassai

“She Could” - phiik & Lungs/LoneSword

https://phiik.bandcamp.com/track/she-could

“It Don’t Stop” - J. Rawls feat. Wordsworth & MC Bravado

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QOK22JQlVg

“Blunt Guts and Laundry Rooms“ - Tokyo Cigar

https://tokyocigarmusic.bandcamp.com/track/blunt-guts-and-laundry-rooms

“S.H.O.W. ENT” - Sideshow

https://ghettosoundz.bandcamp.com/track/s-h-o-w-ent

“Zoo” - Mr Brady & Budamunk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DuVFDHSdZFg

“BlitzBerg” - Niontay

https://sexafterchurch.bandcamp.com/track/blitzberg-2

“Venison” - Chuck Strangers feat. Navy Blue

https://chuckstrangers.bandcamp.com/track/venison-feat-navy-blue

“The Plug” - Jay Worthy & Roc Marciano feat. Kokane & Ab-Soul

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uF-pNfKHiKM

“Chicago Piffers” - Jamal Gasol & Vic Spencer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CHXucmHMuE

“Sunflowers and Gunpowder” - Stik Figa

https://stikfiga785.bandcamp.com/track/sunflowers-and-gunpowder

“Cocaine On My Sweatshirt” - Stove God Cook$ feat. Earl Sweatshirt

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABBh1fS_M4Y

“Michael Myers” - AyooLii & Run Along Forever

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFqaDKNVkB4

“Oh Dear” - Jadasea & Laron feat. Wiki

https://jadase15.bandcamp.com/track/oh-dear-ft-wiki

“HALLELUJAH” - Pote Baby

https://soundcloud.com/potebaby/hallelujah-1

“bread & butter” - Gunna

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpaKdWGnUF4

“Jellyfish” - Roadrunner Glockboyz Tez

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWdIgSoyRrQ

“Hts” - Myaap

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y8GxPW2_piY

(s/o to @JunkiesRPeople for putting me on to this one, Milwaukee has some crazy fun records)

“Gettin Fishy” - Luh Tyler feat. Scy Jimm & Wizz Havinn

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3cdOha_8i4

“Let’s Do It” - DD Osama feat. NLE Choppa

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7aV_GtP3hH8

“Adventure Time” - A$AP Twelvyy feat. Roc Marciano

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCZAAJKtgjk

“Baby Steps” - billy woods & Kenny Segal feat. ELUCID & Benjamin Booker

https://billywoods.bandcamp.com/track/baby-steps-featuring-elucid-benjamin-booker

“LALO” - Conway the Machine & Benny the Butcher feat. 38 Spesh

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DxN5IqE7Q0

“Nat Turner” - Talib Kweli x Madlib feat. Seun Kuti & Cassper Nyovest

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=caim8oPc4r8

(Yeah.  I get it.  You don’t like Talib Kweli.  But if you get a chance to check out Liberation 2, do so, because it’s dope.)

“Kill Switch” - Navy Blue feat. J Rocc

https://soundcloud.com/navybluethewaterbearer/kill-switch

“The Hillbillies” - Baby Keem & Kendrick Lamar

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yhivl6fln3s

“Duckin Smoke” - Mac Ty & GloRilla

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hhiBY3ViqOM

“Kia Boyz” - Trdee feat. Certified Trapper & Mariboy Mula Mar

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nw-mgOxrJK4

“Michelin Star” - WateRR & Lupara feat. MIGHTYHEALTHY

https://waterr.bandcamp.com/track/michelin-star-feat-mightyhealthy

“4DEVILHEADZ” - Estee Nack

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KJzMNDzzwWY

“Transactions” - Gabe ‘Nandez

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTd7JNH8VfE

“On The Floor (Remix)” - Latto feat. Cardi B

https://tidal.com/track/297661618

“RIP Hutch” - Babytron feat. Rico Nasty & Remble

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSb6guRt10E

“Top Dog / Under Dog” - YUNGMORPHEUS

https://yungmorpheus.bandcamp.com/track/top-dog-under-dog-prod-fitz-ambro-e

“Terpalation” - Zombie Juice feat. Curren$y

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oC2dF2canl0

“Tell Em That” - Dre Wave$ feat. Marco Plus

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vyuTs_UsZg

“BFFR” - Kenzo B

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpdfKEqTqZE

“Corsairs” - Knowledge The Pirate feat. Roc Marciano

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GlmtXE8PjA

“Each Smack” - Certified Trapper

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dgn5FiUlXdQ

“Get A Ticket” - Chase Fetti feat. Benny The Butcher 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_ZqCby_ie4

“East Side Summer” - SKECH185 & Jeff Markey feat. I​.​B. Fokuz, Collasoul Structure & Solar Five

 feat. https://skech185.bandcamp.com/track/east-side-summer-feat-i-b-fokuz-collasoul-structure-and-solar-five

“Raps Don’t Move Me” - greenSLIME & Boathouse

https://closedsessions.bandcamp.com/track/raps-dont-move-me

“Lift Me Up” - Marco Plus feat. Chris Patrick

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hf7_XCjuDqk

“Biddy Mason” - 7xvethegenius

https://soundcloud.com/lovethegenius/biddy-mason-1

[pulaasul]

69 is Superior Than 1000

Sawada Tsunayoshi, tenth don and Neo Primo of the Vongola Famiglia has tasked his male mist guardian to investigate one Amatsu Gai. And as Vongola luck would have it, a simple infiltration mission turned into a full-blown fight between Kamen Rider Thouser and Rokudo Mukuro.

FFN I Ao3

--------

"Kufufufu, you are a terrifying man, Sawada Tsunayoshi." A man with a pineapple for a hairstyle commented as he exited the office doors.

"Are you sure it was wise to send Mukuro-san, Tsu-kun?" An auburn-haired woman asked in concern. "Why not send Chrome-chan?"

"Considering what I had heard of that man, I'd rather not expose Chrome-chan to that, Kyoko-chan."

"You're becoming more and more into a mafia boss, Dame-Tsuna," A suited man in a fedora hat entered the office. "You're taking the feelings of your subordinates into consideration."

"I trust that your mission in the Americas went well?" The man identified as Dame-Tsuna raised an eyebrow.

"I am the world's strongest Hitman, what do you think?"

Tsuna simply rolled his eyes.

"I had to silence a few annoyances, but it went mostly fine," Reborn reported. "What's this company takeover happening in Japan?"

"ZAIA Enterprises' Head of the Japanese branch Amatsu Gai, wants to take over Hiden Intelligence." Tsuna sighed. "And from what I hear, he's been selling weapons to civilians to mimic those of Kamen Riders."

"That's troubling," Reborn frowned. "I trust you sent in Hibari, Namimori is one of the first communities that'd be in jeopardy if the selling of weapons goes through."

"He's already there alongside the former Disciplinary committee," Tsuna shared. "Fuuta, Ipin, Lambo, and Haru are currently busy discouraging Namimori citizens from buying the weapons ZAIA uses."

"What about the ZAIA specs, Tsu-kun?"

"Hibari-san gleefully destroyed those that made it past Namimori's borders," Tsuna couldn't help but smile. "People in Namimori are still afraid of Hibari-san that they couldn't protest as their purchase was getting destroyed in front of them."

"I mean there was that hacking incident a few days ago." Kyoko offered.

"So, who did you send if Hibari's already in Namimori?"

"Mukuro."

---------

"Kufufufufu, so this is the man who Sawada Tsunayoshi wants to be investigated." A disembodied voice was heard.

"Wha- Who are you?!"

Amatsu Gai was walking to his car when he demanded the disembodied voice to answer his demands.

"I have to say, even I was able to infiltrate into his ranks rather easily and managed to get the information I need."

"Show yourself, coward!"

"Then again, this man is no Byakuran."

Suddenly his surroundings changed from ZAIA's car park to a land with blooming cherry blossoms.

"Extortion, bribery, malversation of company funds, corporate sabotage, human experimentation," The disembodied voice listed. "I have to say, even the people of the underground whom I've had the displeasure of meeting weren't as bad as this."

Amatsu summoned his Thousand Jacker and got on guard for an incoming attack, he just doesn't know where it will come from.

"I take that back," The disembodied voice immediately added. "You're not worse than them, but you're getting near to where they stand."

"I see how it is," Amatsu relaxed his stance. "You're too much of a coward to face me and accuse me of without showing your face," He smirked. "Why should I fear the words of a man who's too much of a coward to show his face?

"Very well."

Indigo smoke began to obscure Amatsu's vision, causing him to get on a guarded stance and prepared himself for an inevitable attack.

As the smoke dissipated, a man in an indigo suit appeared out of thin air and faced Amatsu with a smirk.

"Kufufufu, well?"

"I expected someone intimidating," Amatsu raised an eyebrow. "I did not realize Hiden had associates that could do cheap party tricks such as this."

"Kufufufu, cheap you say?"

"What else is it?" Amatsu smirked. "I do, however, must thank you, I did not realize this type of technology can be beneficial."

The man's red eye seemingly blurred as the kanji for one appeared on it. A moment later, vines sprouted from the ground and bound Amatsu in place.

"Wha-what is this?!" Amatsu demanded. "Unhand me at once! Do you who I am?!" He exclaimed as he struggled against his restraints.

"Do you still think this to be a cheap trick, Amatsu Gai?"

"You know me," ZAIA's CEO continued to struggle against his binds. "I don't know how you're doing this, but if you don't let me go, you will surely regret this."

"Kufufufu, let's see you try."

With great effort, Amatsu was able to equip himself with his driver and inserted his progrise keys into it, materializing his golden armor.

"The famed Kamen Rider Thouser." The man smirked.

"There's nothing here?" Amatsu growled as he phased through his supposed restraints. "And I see we're still in the car park."

"O-ho? Your technology wasn't fooled by my illusions," The man raised an eyebrow.

"You're not at all here." Amatsu concluded as he looked around his surroundings.

"You learn something new, soft mist flames cannot fool technology that has advanced significantly," The man stepped outside, into Thouser's view, and equipped himself with a pair of gloves. "That is good to know."

"Mist flames?"

"Kufufufu, you heard that," The man simply smirked. "We'll have to correct that."

Suddenly two separate coiled vines appeared from both the man's sides and began attacking Gai, relentlessly. He wasn't even able to form a counter-strategy from the man's supernatural-like abilities. The first ability he exhibited was perception alteration and now he's controlling whatever this was.

Gai continued dodging the vines coming his way, he even had to cut them for good measure. But somehow the vines regenerated and resumed their attack on him.

Gai managed to collect his bearings and was able to analyze the situation he was in all the while blocking and dodging the vines that came after him.

Flora…

Gai was being attacked by flora.

"Jack Rise – Jacking Break"

Kamen Rider Thouser stabbed his sword to the ground before multiple pillars of flames erupted from the ground and incinerated the vines attacking him.

It also incinerated all the nearby cars and pillars that were supporting the structure.

"Kufufufu, shouldn't have done that."

"Jack Rise – Jacking Break"

Amatsu spun his sword above him and emitted a gust of cold air from his sword, putting out the flame that he had inflicted on the parking area, leaving soot, ashes, and burnt cars in its wake.

"I see that hard mist flames are able to fool technology."

"Who are you?!"

"Call me Mukuro," The man materialized a spear in his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Amatsu Gai." He spun his spear above his head and produced lotus flowers on vines.

The flowering vines immediately went for the golden warrior only to get minced to pieces. Sooner or later, Gai was overwhelmed by the vines and ended up getting restrained by them, hanging off of the ground.

"Let me go!" Gai demanded as he struggled against his restraints.

"As you wish," Mukuro obliged as he threw Gai out of the window before he followed suit, landing outside the parking building. "Kufufufufu, you did a lot of damage to the parking building, Amatsu." He commented as he looked at the parking building where the both of them came from.

"Don't you dare blame me, the blame rests on you 100%, no, 1000%!" Gai growled.

"Kufufufu, you knew all my attacks were illusions," Mukuro spun his spear in front of him. "And yet you still used flames against my illusory attacks."

"Why you!"

Amatsu blindly charged at his enemy, Thousand Jacker in hand, and attempted to slash his opponent. He continued slashing, slashing and slashing, but he seemed to hit nothing.

"The moment you lost concentration was the moment you gave up control over your perception." Mukuro spoke.

The Kanji on Mukuro's eyes changed to convey the number four before the illusionist donned a fighting stance, dissolving every illusion Mukuro had cast.

Without as much as a prompt, Mukuro charged at the golden warrior and began attacking his enemy. The attacks consisted of slashing, stabbing, and hitting his enemy with the blunt end of his spear.

Amatsu could do nothing but take the attack as he stood, paralyzed, from the illusions he had encountered.

After relentlessly attacking the defenseless golden warrior, Mukuro kicked Amatsu in the chest. Thouser was knocked back hard before a pole made of vines slammed him to a wall, hitting his gut, and fall to the ground.

Amatsu's golden armor vanished and revealed his battered form: a tattered suit and a bruised face with blood dripping from his mouth to his chin.

"Kufufufu, someone with a 69% rate beat someone with a 1000% rate," Mukuro gloated. "Clearly ZAIA isn't like what it advertises to be."

"You will regret this!" Amatsu coughed.

"I doubt I will."

----------

"Mukuro!" Tsuna exclaimed. "I told you to investigate, not beat him black and blue!"

"Don't fret, Tsunayoshi-kun" Mukuro assured his boss. "He's not as injured as he appeared to be."

"I'm not angry about his state!" Tsuna huffed. "You used your flames when you fought him!"

"That is curious," Gokudera frowned. "Usually when a fight when the flames are involved, the Vendice are usually on the case."

"That is true." Reborn contemplated. "They should have arrested Mukuro right then and there."

"As you can see, I'm here."

"Wait, didn't Bermuda-dono say that they will guard the Trinisette flames and keep the 8th attribute alight forever?" Basil interjected.

"You're right."

"I guess we lucked out this time, huh?" Yamamoto chuckled.

"Oi, this isn't a game, baseball idiot!" Gokudera responded indignantly.

"Still, there's the Amatsu problem." Tsuna frowned.

"I wouldn't be worrying too much about him," Mukuro revealed. "We need to think of evacuation plans for the incoming incursion of hacked humagears."

"Mukuro's right," Reborn agreed. "From the information that Mukuro gathered, it seems that when Amatsu taught the Ark about human malice, it gained sentience and is centered on that malice." He placed the papers he was reading on Tsuna's table. "Amatsu Gai is the least of our problems; we could have a war between humagears and humans on our hands."

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Together - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: In Hotel Oblivion, trying to save the world once more, you can’t help but wonder what Five sees in you. Reader: can be read as any gender Warnings: Five and Reader are both around their early to mid-twenties. SPOILER for Season 3 Episode 10, blood, sorta gore (you’ve seen the episode, you know why), slight angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death (again, you’ve seen the season) Word count: 5 331 A/N: I’m kinda not happy with this… I feel like it’s lacking emotions. Maybe because I finished writing this at 3am, knowing I’d have to get up at 6am…Feedback is appreciated.

You and Five had always had a difficult relationship, this much you were well aware off. He had torn you out of your completely normal, ordinary, boring life, only to drag you from apocalypse to apocalypse. Maybe you should hate him for it, should wish he had not. Because then, in this timeline, you never would have been born.

But now you were as much a paradox as the Umbrella Academy, only that you lacked any special powers. Unless making Five stick to your side like a puppy was a special power, of course, because ever since you had left Dallas, he would not leave your side. He had even insisted on sharing not only a room, but even the bed in the Obsidian. The first time you had tried to go to the bathroom, it had taken a lot of work convince him not to blink past the locked door. Still, you had been pretty certain that he had waited outside, nervously tapping his foot or fiddling around with one of his buttons.

If anyone else would have been as clingy as the undeniably genius but also equally undeniably mad hitman, you would have probably locked them in a broom closet by now, and thrown away the key.

But something about Five was different.

To the world he seemed like a snot-nosed young man, who believed he was better and more important than everyone else in the world. He seemed cold, calculating, manipulative. And maybe he was, to a certain level. But he loved nobody more than his family; he was ready to do everything for his family.

Except endanger you.

You had lost count on how many occasions he had thrown himself in the line of fire for you, had defended you against flying bullets and insults alike. When anyone else asked for an explanation to some crazy theory he had just blurted out, they were ignored, but whenever you asked, he patiently broke down his idea into humanly understandable phrases. What impressed you most about him though was how he was able to keep up with you, with your sarcasm and stupid jokes, how he was not fed up with you after five minutes, like most of the other people. He just rolled his eyes playfully, or even played into your sarcasm, making you laugh. These past days you had gotten the feeling he liked it when you laughed.

And so you grew more attached to him. It had only been a few weeks, but you had grown to like the strange man more than you had ever expected to like anyone, and it had taken seeing him die, the old version of him anyway, to realise you loved him. Well, maybe love was a strong word, but you were certain, given enough time, those feelings thrumming in your chest eventually would turn into love. Did you want to love him thought? Most certainly not. Not in the beginning at least, when you had thought someone like him could never even remotely understand the feeling of your heart beating faster at the mere thought of the other. But after Luther‘s wedding, when everyone had been dancing, he had grabbed your hand, and pulled you close. You could smell alcohol on his breath, but his eyes were clear, this thoughts not yet jumbled by the drug.

“No matter what happens in the next days,” he had whispered into the small space between you, “No matter what happens- I’ll always be by your side. Where you go, I go. I can’t lose you, not now that I found you.”

You had looked up at him then, into his crystal blue eyes, how he had watched your face at his words, and for a moment you had thought he would kiss you, had hoped he would kiss you. But then he had wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you into his chest, hugging you tightly.

Still, ever since then you could not quite shake the thought that maybe, maybe, if the world wasn’t ending, if you weren’t frantically running down corridor after corridor, maybe then Five and you might have had some strange, weird sort of future together. But you had taken your eyes off him for one second, and suddenly you had been alone in one of the hotel rooms in Hotel Oblivion. As if that hotel itself was not weird enough already. A hotel in another dimension while your world, your universe, had been destroyed by the Kugelblitz.

Your feet were hurting from running, your lungs burning from your frantic, paniced breathing, and your throat begun to dry from your calls for any of the superheroes, when you pushed past a door, and suddenly ended back up in the foyer.

“Five!” Relief flooded you as you spotted him standing with his siblings, and he spun around alarmed at the call, only to visibly relax when he recognised you.

“(Y/n),” he breathed, meeting you halfway towards the group. You wanted to hug him, glad to have found him again, but something stopped you. Something always stopped you from showing your full range of emotions to him, perhaps the fear of rejection.

“One moment you where there and the next-”

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he interrupted you, making you perk up. He hardly ever apologized without being sarcastic, yet here he was. “I didn’t think- it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry for scaring you, and I’m glad you’re okay.” It was more like he was taking to himself, as his eyes quickly flickered over your body, checking for any injuries, before meeting your eyes again. “No more strolling off alone, from neither of us, okay?”

You nodded tight lipped, and watched him hold out his right hand to you. Confused you looked between his hand and his eyes questioningly, making him roll his eyes and take your left hand in his right one.

“If we don’t let go of one another, we can’t lose each other again,” he explained, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “So we’re holding hands until all of this is over, capiche?”

“Hey,” you protested as Five turned back to his family, and began dragging you along with him, his fingers somewhat cold and clammy around yours. “I don’t need anyone to hold hands with me, I’m no three years old.”

“Well, what a shame, because I don’t care,” Five announced over his shoulder, before the two of your joined the others, where Klaus was just explaining about how Reginald Hargreeves had killed him and Luther.

The moment the old man entered the foyer, you could feel Five stiffen up, taking a slight step forwards, so you were behind him. It was not the first time he did this, in fact, over the past days, whenever danger had arisen he had always taken a protective step in front of you. The gesture made your heart flutter, even though you were well aware, that this was neither the time nor the place for it. And yet… him being so protective over you meant more to you than you could have put into words.

But now, as the old man and Five’s siblings were fighting, your eyes wandered to one of the stars on the floor, right in front of Five. These stars on the floor had irritated you from the beginning on. They were only here, in the Hotel Oblivion, but had not been in the Hotel Obsidian, even though everything else had been mostly the same (not counting the bison’s behind and the paintings and writing). And they were only here, in the entrance hall, nowhere else in the building. They were not evenly distributed either. Actually there were only… what? A hand full, maybe half a dozen of them.

You blinked in confusion, your eyes skipping over the tiles, counting. Quickly you tucked at Five’s hand, his fingers wrapped around yours still.

“The floor,” you whispered over the argument of the others.

He did not have to turn around to know what you were referring to, but from the way he moved his head to look through the room, you knew he was counting the stars as well.

Without warning he turned around, and dragged you across the foyer towards the stairs, while the others were still fighting with Reginald Hargreeves.

“The stars,” he explained on his way up the stairs, “They form a pattern, you’re right. I want to see if it matches-”

“The sigil?”

He nodded, guiding you over to the balustrade, so you could see into the foyer. Both of you scanned the dimly lit room for the markers, trying to remember the pattern from the sigil. It was not hard, not for you at least. The image had burnt itself into your memory when Five had cut the piece of skin out of his dead future self. A shiver ran down your spine while you tried to match the pattern on the floor to that in your memory. Since the moment the old man had died, you had been terrified. The thought, that Five would die like this… not the fact that he died, but the How. For how long had he been in that bunker? Had he been all alone? Had he been scared and worried for his younger self? He had commented on how young you had looked. Had you spent a lot of time together, grown old together? All you knew was that you could not stand the idea of your Five meeting the same fate, that you would do everything you could to keep him from dying such a lonely death. Oh, how furious you had been when you had found out he had gotten the same tattoo as the one he had cut out of his own skin. Now you needed to somehow prevent him from losing his arm, and from founding the Commission. Both felt like fighting against windmills. On the other hand, the universe had been destroyed, so maybe this future of his had been successfully prevented, since all of you would die a lot earlier than that.

“Hey, I found the sigil,” Five shouted to his siblings who were still fighting with their adoptive father.

You snapped out of your thoughts, and pointed to the stars at the ground.

“It’s on the-”

You got interrupted by the sound of breaking glass, and alarmed both Five and you spun to your left, where one of the Guardians, who the others had mentioned before, broke through the glass ceiling.

Immediately your body was on fight or flight mode, and you felt Five tuck you away from where the Guardian was in free fall, pushing himself between you and the danger.

It was the flash of metal, there one second and gone the next, faster than you could have perceived, when Five suddenly cried out and stumbled to the floor. You felt his blood before you saw it in the dim light, so much blood, warm and sticky, coating your hands at an alarming rate as Five’s right hand slipped from your grip and he slumped against you. In terror you glanced down at him, at the source of so much blood, and found that where his left arm had been mere split seconds ago, only a stump was left.

The picture of the old Five in the bunker flickered before your eyes, how he had been missing his left arm, and you tasted sick on your tongue, not only from the thought of how painful it had to be to lose a limp or the smell of blood, but also from the realisation that you were one step closer to losing Five to that dark future.

Before another sound had left Five’s lips, you had quickly dragged him against the balustrade, and begun reaching for your belt. You needed to tie off the big blood vessels in his arm, so he would not bleed out. At the same time Five fumbled for his tie, thinking the same thing as you. Realising his tie was easier to access, you quickly loosened it, and pulled it over his head. His eyes were wide, sweat beginning to coat his forehead from the pain.

“I got you,” you mumbled, ignoring the sounds of a fight going on downstairs. Doubtlessly the Hargreeves were taking care of the last Guardian. Or the Guardian of them, by the sounds of it. But truth be told, you could not care less about that. All that mattered was the way blood continued spurting from Five’s wound and how desperately he looked up at you as you were kneeling in front of him. “I got you,” you repeated, tying the tie around what was left of his arm, and pulling it as tightly as possible. Five groaned in pain, making another wave of sickness spread through your stomach, but you ignored it.

“Tighter,” he whimpered. “It needs to be tighter.”

“Okay,” you nodded, while grabbing the blood slippery fabric as safely between your hands as possible. “This’ll hurt.”

You looked down at him, unable to keep the pity out of your gaze. You knew Five hated to be pitied, but still-

The way he looked up at you almost knocked all breath out of you. His eyes were soft, sad, and you had never seen anyone look at you with so much trust as he did in that moment.

“Maybe,” he began, blinking his blue eyes as if in a slight daze, “Maybe I should tell you that I-”

You did not let him finish whatever he had planned on saying. Instead you pulled the tie as tightly as possible, making Five scream out in pain, but at least the blood flow from his arm began ceasing.

“Tell me once we’ve saved the world,” you mumbled, pressing your forehead against his quickly in a gesture of comfort. His skin was cold from sweat.

“The others-” he mumbled out, and you nodded in understanding, quickly getting up. The Guardian was on the floor, but so were most of the Hargreeves.

“The sigil is on the lobby floor,” you shouted to them, while helping Five up, who rested his weight against the balustrade.

“It’s the stars,” he added.

Immediately Reginald began ordering around the others, and while you and Five watched them scurry around, one after the other finding a star on the floor to stand on. As soon as one of them was positioned, the stars underneath their feet began glowing and clicking, while the sound of a motor all around you began picking up. Confused you looked around, trying to locate the source of the sound, but it seemed to come from everywhere at once.

“Number Five, quickly!”

Only when Reginald Hargreeves shouted for him, did you notice Five had left your side and moved to the bottom of the staircase. So much for never leaving each other’s side again, huh? Quickly you moved down the stairs, rushing to him, while he exchanged looks with Alison across the room. To your left, the Guardian that somehow had recovered from the previous attack, began roaring again, as it stormed towards the others. Before you could say something, before you could reach for him, Five had begun moving, blinking himself onto the last empty star right in the middle. The moment the touched it, bright blue flashes zapped between all seven heroes and the Guardian, so blinding that you had to cover your eyes. But with covered eyes it was all the more easier to hear the agonised screams of the Hargreeve siblings and Lila. And then the flashes died down.

Quickly you looked up, finding the seven seemed to be stuck in place, lights, like spotlights in a theatre, shining down on every single one of them. A look to the side revealed the Guardian to have fallen apart, hundreds of cockroaches streaming from an empty armour.

All of a sudden, the noises around you picked up again, clicking and buzzing, like those of a huge machine, in which’s centre you found yourselves. A strangled sound from Five made you snap your attention back to the seven people in the lights. Five’s head was leant back, his arms slightly spread, and what you could see from his face he looked pained.

“Five?” Jumping down the last steps of the staircase you hurried over to the seven, but did not dare touching any of them. “What’s happening,” you asked nobody in particular, before you turned to Reginald Hargreeves. “Hey, old man! What’s happening?”

But the man did not seem to take notice of you, of your panic strained voice, as the foyer around you began to change. What had seemed like solid matter, walls, floor, doors, windows, stairs and columns, dissolved into nothingness, leaving only faint lines of light where edges had been before. The only thing that was left was the floor with the stars and a part of the reception, which began to look increasingly like a control panel. Reginald walked over to the panel, a blue half-sphere appearing over him, displaying numbers and equations in a writing you could not read. But he seemed to be able to, because he began tapping around on them, shifting them.

A particularly loud gasp from Five tore your attention away from Reginald, and back to the young man you had grown so close to. In the white light you could, all too clearly, make out the pale tone of his skin. Not just pale, white, bordering grey. His eyes were wide, only strained gasps leaving his lips, but it was obvious in how much pain he was. You watched as his cheeks fell in, while Alison began arguing with Reginald. Second by second he began resembling a starving person more than the healthy man he had been minutes ago, as if the life itself was being drained from his body.

A ping from Hargreeve’s panel, and suddenly the groaning of the in the lights trapped increased to muffled scream of pain. Your heart was racing in your chest, and you were well aware of the tears that had begun falling from your eyes, as you helplessly repeated Five’s name over and over again. You knew you could not touch the light which trapped Five. What would happen if you did? There was no way of telling. But it could end tragically. And you were no hero. You were just- you. What grand things had you ever done in your life? Nothing worth mentioning, apart maybe from the most stupid thing which had been following Five out of your house one sunny morning three apocalypses ago and then falling in love with him.

“Please,” you pleaded, addressing Alison, or the old Hargreeves or anyone else who might be able to do something now. “Please, stop this. Please.”

Instead you had to watch as little glimmers of light began separating themselves from Five’s skin, and drifted upwards towards the invisible source of the spotlight that kept him trapped. More and more he looked like a days old corpse, but still he began talking, his eyes focused on Alison.

“He killed Luther,” he pressed out, “He tried to kill Klaus. He won’t stop before we’re all dead.”

You could not muffle the sob that slipped from your lips, as your knees gave out.

“’s gonna be alright,” Five mumbled, before a pained groan shut him up again, but you knew he had been talking to you. You wanted to punch him, wanted to mock him. How could things be alright after this? You had no way to stop whatever his deranged adoptive father was doing to him and his siblings. You did not know how to fight, had no weapon to either-

Unless…

Your eyes flickered across the room, searching for one of Diego’s knives, or one of the weapons the Guardian might have dropped. But the moment you spotted the sickle, Alison already picked it up. Frozen, you watched as she approached her adoptive father, and brought the weapon down on his head. The moment Reginald Hargreeves’ knees gave out, the lights suddenly died down, releasing its captives, and next to you Five collapsed on the ground.

“Five,” you gasped out, and quickly gathered him in your arms, pulling you into your lap. His skin was grey, stretching over easily visible bones. His eyes were dull, as if he were 200 years old, and his right hand weakly wrapped into your shirt, holding onto you as tightly as his weak state allowed.

“Hey, hey, I got you,” you whispered, reminding yourself that you had told him these words just minutes prior, when he had lost his arm. “I’m right here, I got you.” Carefully you brushed a strand of his jet black hair out of his eyes, your fingertips grazing his skin slightly. It felt so odd, so cold, so dead.

“Alison,” Five had turned his head towards where Alison had stepped over the corpse of the old Hargreeves into the centre of the panel, her hand hovering over a red button that had appeared on the screen. “Alison, don’t touch that button. We don’t know what it does!”

Viktor too was screaming for Alison to stop, even strong enough to have gotten up already and summoning his powers in the form of a blinding blue light. Would the fighting ever stop?

“Don’t do this,” Viktor warned, his fists lifted to his chest, ready to attack.

“Do you trust me,” Alison asked, holding Viktor’s gaze, who slowly let his arms down and the light dimmed until it had disappeared completely.

“Viktor, what are you doing,” Five asked, beginning roll out of where you had lifted him to rest his head in your lap. “Stop her.”

“If there’s one thing I know about big red buttons, it’s that – no matter how tempting they are – they should not be pressed,” you reminded Alison, slowly getting up from your spot on the floor, while the others joined Five’s plea not to press the button. But still she turned away from her the others and you, slowly bringing her hand down on the button.

You felt Five reach for you, and then everything got drowned in white.

~*~

Slowly an elevator door opened, revealing the middle of a small park, in what sounded like the centre of a big city, judging by the noise of traffic. Warm fingers were wrapped around yours, and when you looked up, you found Five looking down on you. His jaw was tightened, as if he expected to walk from Apocalypse Number 3 directly into Apocalypse Number 4. You felt his fingers carefully tighten around yours, and you adjusted your hand so you could do the same, while the others slowly began leaving the elevator. Five and you followed them.

In the middle of the small crossing of six paths stood a bust. Curiously you strolled over, Five in tow, to read the plate that was attached below it.

“Obsidian Memorial Park, Graciously donated by Sir Reginald Hargreeves, this first day of October 1989,” you read out in a whisper. Five’s fingers tightened around yours.

While you were still around, a commotion started up in front of the elevator, and you suddenly spotted Luther, alive and well, visible for all of you and not just Klaus, standing in front of it. He enthusiastically hugged Victor, lifting him up, as all the others too watched in astonishment. As Luther and everyone else realised he had the normal body of a well-trained man now, instead of that of an ape, you felt Five move at your side, and turned to look at him, your breath catching in your throat as you saw how he was holding out his left arm in front of his body.

“I got my arm back,” he marvelled, turning his hand in the dim light of the park.

Again you felt tears well up in your eyes, but this time out of pure relief. Five had his arm back, which meant that there was still time to prevent the future you had seen for him.

“I got my arm back,” he repeated, turning to you, a bright smile on his face which in itself made your breath hitch. And then he let go of your hand, gathering you up in his arms instead, lifting you so your feet were in the air, and twirled you around, giggling into your neck, while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and laughed. You laughed like you had not laughed in weeks, not caring about what his siblings might think. Truthfully, right now you did not care what anyone was thinking. The only thing that mattered was that Five was with you, and he was alive and uninjured and seemingly healthy. You could deal with all the endings of the world in the universe if he was by your side.

When Five put you down again, both of you slightly out of breath the atmosphere around you had cooled down harshly. Luther was looking for Sloane, and Alison seemed to be missing too. That definitely put a damper on the whole ‘we’re still alive and somehow prevented the apocalypse’-situation.

“Hey,” suddenly Luther came storming over to you and Five, harshly grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. “I don’t care about any resets, alright?” You protested, grabbing Luther’s wrist in warning, trying to tuck him away from Five. “I want my wife back, Five. Where is she?”

“I’m glad you’re alive, but please take your hand off me,” Five answered Luther a lot calmer than you were.

At that Luther grabbed Five’s collar with both hands, pulling him closer threateningly.

“Luther, that’s enough,” you tried interfering but Luther ignored you entirely.

“Not until you give me an answer,” he snarled at Five.

“Okay, screw this,” Five decided, lifting his hands in order to blink out, but nothing happened. No blue light signalling the opening of a portal, nothing. “Something’s wrong.”

Immediately panic swept into his eyes, which landed on you, as if to search for help while you watched with baited breath.

“That’s right, something’s wrong,” Luther growled, “You’re about to get your ass kicked.”

“No, you moron, my power,” Five rolled his eyes, looking up at his brother. “I can’t blink.”

At that Luther let go of Five, who quickly straightened out his jacket before turning to you. You only half noticed how the other siblings tried summoning their powers but failed miserably, as Five grabbed your hand in his again.

Slowly the group began splitting up; Luther running off to find Sloane, Klaus following him. Diego and Lila, left holding hands, and Viktor too sighed, and slowly strode off, no clear idea where to go.

Which left Five and you, holding hands in the middle of a park at night. Slowly you looked at him, the question of what you should do now dying on your lips, as you saw the absentminded gaze with which he was scrutinizing you.

“The thing I was about to say before...” he trailed of as if he expected you to remember.

“What thing?”

“The thing I was about to say before you rudely interrupted me by cutting off all blood supply to my arm-”

“Oh, you mean where I saved you from bleeding you,” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him challengingly.

Five rolled his eyes at you.

“You’re insufferable, you know that,” he asked with a sigh, before his piercing blue eyes met yours again.

“Yet here you are, holding my hand,” you pointed out.

Five glanced down to your joined hands hanging in the space between you, gently running his thumb over the back of your hand.

Not looking back up at you, he continued.

“Anyway, as I was about to say- not matter how many apocalypses we have to face in the future… I want you to know that I will do absolutely anything to make sure you are safe. I dragged you into this mess; I am the one who needs to make sure you are safe. And I don’t care what it coasts me.”

“But I do, Five,” you shook your head, trying to get him to look at you, but his eyes were fixed on your hands. “I care what it costs you, and you can’t risk your life, or limbs or- you can’t put yourself at risk for me.”

“Why not?”

“’cause you’re special, Five. The world needs you, needs the Umbrella Academy-”

“Not anymore,” he shrugged. “I lost my powers and, you know, I think maybe that’s a good thing, for once. Maybe, maybe we can just stay here, you know, the two of us. In this world. Screw the apocalypse, the end of the universe… we could just… stay here. Stay together.”

It took a moment for the words to settle in, and confused you blinked.

“Wouldn’t… wouldn’t you grow tired of me,” you asked carefully, not sure if you understood correctly what Five was implying.

“You know I could never grow tired of you,” he denied, finally looking at you again. “I thought I knew the range of human emotions, thought I knew what- what love is, but these past weeks… you-” He exhaled, and shook his head. “Truth is, I don’t care which world or which apocalypse I have to live in, as long as it’s with you. Does that sound stupid?”

You laughed quietly, and took a step closer to Five, reaching your free hand up to cup his face. Immediately he snuggled into you touch, his eyes fluttering closed. His skin was warm now, a lot warmer than just a few minutes ago when the machine had sucked the life out of him.

“It does,” you told him. “I at least prefer this world-” you paused to signal him you were referring to your surroundings, “to the apocalypse world you described to me.”

Five nodded.

“I get that,” he agreed.

“Hey, Five,” you called quietly. Slowly his eyes opened again. “Can I kiss you?”

For a moment his eyes widened in shock, before he surprised you by leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours in a desperate but gentle kiss. His lips were hot and soft, smooth as they pressed to yours. He let go of your hand, which he had still been holding, wrapping the arm around your waist instead, while he brought the other up to your neck, carefully holding you in place. Your hand was still on his face, the other propped against his chest, feeling the fast beating of his heart under your palm. Five kissed you like he was drowning and you were the only thing that kept him alive. And maybe that was partially true. After Luther’s wedding he had told you that he would continue fighting if you asked him to, that the only reason he would stop this apocalypse, would be to save you, if you wanted that. You had told him there was no way to save the world, and that you would rather spend the last few hours with him than trying to chase a solution that did not exist. But there you were now. In a new world, a new universe even, your hand wrapped into the front of his dress shirt, his fingers massaging small figures into your neck as his lips connected to yours over and over again.

When the kiss eventually broke, Five wrapped both of his arms around you, and lifted you in the air again, twirling you around once more. His face was buried in your neck, your nose pressed into his short, black hair. And when he set you down again, both of you dizzy from the spinning, he gently cupped your jaw.

“Where ever we go from here on out,” he whispered, “we go together.”

His blue eyes were blazing with passion, making your breath hitch, and you nodded, pressing your forehead against his.

“Together,” you promised.

Tagged:

@alexstyx​ @recommendedattheprice @jayloverthe3rd​ @robinruns​ @lookalivefrosty​ @butterflycore​ @vamp-void @angelevansfalls a @omgsuperstarg​ @reinaeru​

[swordgayist]

cultural appropriation in ATLA (hinduism edition)

i’m sure there’s already a ton of posts about this, but whatever, i’m still making one idc. 

ATLA’s cultural appropriation, everyone knows about it, the white people don’t speak about it, and the asian and indigenous people get ignored. we know the cycle. but i wanted to come here and highlight some of the most prominent examples of ATLA abusing hinduism, as i am kinda sorta hindu (i was raised in a hindu household, i go to chinmaya mission, that kinda shit). i might forget some things so keep that in mind.

this is gonna be divided into 3 main sections, since there are different ways that they disrespect hinduism that i don’t wanna lump together.

and i’d say i know a lot about hinduism but that doesn’t make me an expert, obviously, so if other hindus have anything to add and/or correct then please do !! and if anyone else wants to share how their cultures were appropriated then please do that as well !!

so let’s get started shall we?

appropriating hinduism

1) the avatar

we’ll start with the most obvious example: the avatar itself

i know that there are parts of the avatar mythos that are taken from other cultures as well but the idea of the avatar itself is primarily from hinduism.

basically in hinduism, the term dashavatara refers to the 10 reincarnations of lord vishnu (the god of preservation), with avatar(a) meaning form or incarnation in sanskrit, and das(a) meaning ten. it was said that whenever the world was out of balance, lord vishnu would come down to earth in a certain form to restore balance. Each reincarnation is considered a different life with a different story. the avatars of lord vishnu are often considered the saviors of the world.

so basically, the central idea of the show and the actual name of the show is largely based on hinduism.

2) chakras

many different indian religions have a concept of chakras (chakra meaning wheel or circle in sanskrit), but hinduism is the one that primarily preaches the system of seven chakras, the version used in ATLA.

chakras connect the physical body to the ‘subtle’ body (referring more to the spirit and the psyche) by connecting parts of the body to aspects of the mind. the idea is that through different forms of steady meditation you can manipulate the different chakras and allow the pure flow of energy through the body.

the whole idea of chakras on ATLA is that aang has to unblock them all to let the cosmic energy flow through him so that he can go into the avatar state at will. so yeah, pretty much that whole idea was taken from hinduism.

3) terminologies

these are just a few terms that were taken from hinduism. i’m pretty sure there are more that i can’t think of right now but yeah.

“agni” kai 

i’ll be honest i don’t know where the ‘kai’ part is from, i don’t think it’s from hinduism but if it is well fuck me i guess.  ‘agni’ in hinduism is the god of fire, so the creators used it in ‘agni kai’, the name for a firebending duel.

“bumi”

this is in reference to the hindu word for ‘earth’, which is bhoomi. this is also in reference to our goddess of earth, bhoomi devi. also this doesn’t really bother me but i wonder if the creators knew that bhoomi is a name typically used for women (as are most hindi names ending in ‘i’/‘ee’).

in general, concepts like having multiple complex gods (the spirits) who are capable of good and evil and the reincarnation cycle are prominent in a lot of asian cultures, including (and arguably primarily) hinduism.

mocking hinduism

now we get into the mockery of hinduism in ATLA, because it is very much there.

1) whoever the fuck that baboon guy in the spirit world was

now what the fuck was this.

i mean i wouldn’t say this is the most egregious example of them making fun of brown people but lord why did this even need to be there? this random guy from the spirit world has an indian accent ? and is fervently chanting ‘om’ for some reason, and it’s clearly meant to be seen as comical. also portraying brown people as monkeys....... really.

2) combustion man/sparky sparky boom man

when rewatching ATLA in 2019 i actually had no idea that this was a thing, because the last time i had watched it was as a kid and i didn’t finish it.

so lord was i in for a surprise when i saw...

now... now what.

if you didn’t know, combustion man’s ‘third eye’ is designed to replicate the hindu god of destruction, lord shiva. right down to the vibhuti on his forehead (referring to the three line markings around the third eye).

in hinduism, lord shiva’s third eye is used to reduce people to ashes, though as far as i can recall, not very frequently. the primary significance of the third eye is that it represents the ability of higher spiritual thought and higher consciousness.

the ATLA writers take the ACTUAL significance of the third eye, throw it out the window, and then take its destructive abilities to make a super duper cool and dangerous new firebending technique.

and if that wasn’t bad enough, the actual person who uses this technique, and is meant to emulate a GOD who is PRAISED, is a scary, burly, half metal man who is a villain and an assassin. not to mention the design of his facial hair replicates that super duper scary “terrorist” depiction of brown people, particularly of muslims, that white people are so thoroughly terrified of for no reason. 

this is a parody of a god, and they portrayed him as this terrifying, maniacal fucking assassin who, along with p’li, the combustion bender from LOK, is constantly referred to as a “third-eyed freak”. i’ve made this analogy before and i’ll do it again, this is like making jesus into a hitman.

now onto my favorite example...

3) guru pathik

ah, this motherfucker.

i don’t really have any problems with him as a character, i mean hell, must’ve taken a fuck ton of patience to handle aang’s “why would choose cosmic energy over katara” bullshit.

but we all know it, we see it plain as day, don’t even try to deny it.

“guru” literally just means teacher or guide, so i don’t really know why pathik needed to be referred to as “guru” so distinctively from aang’s other teachers and guides, but that’s just extremely trivial compared to all the other issues with this character.

first of all what is this character design? what is he even wearing? if they’re trying to replicate the clothes of swamis and priests and stuff this is already wrong, realized people don’t dress like this. and why the fuck does he have an indian accent? and why was this indian accent done by a non indian (brian george)?

once again, the poor but extremely heavy indian accent is clearly meant to be mocking, if it wasn’t, they wouldn’t’ve gone out of their way to get a non indian person to DO an indian accent, and instead they would’ve just gotten an actual indian person to play the role. 

and oh yeah, the onion and banana juice. because hindus just eat weird shit right.

whether it’s actually weird or not, the show certainly portrays it as weird. and as far as i know no hindu actually fucking drinks onion and banana juice.

ironic because brown people can absolutely destroy white people in cooking. but i digress.

i know what you’re all waiting for. because the guru apparently didn’t have enough fun with guru pathik, so they just had to come back to him in book 3:

where do i begin.

so this is obviously john o’bryan’s super funny and hilarious depiction of pathik as a hindu god.

usually when a god has multiple arms it’s to carry an array of things, from flowers to weapons to instruments, and one hand is typically free to bless devotees (ie. goddess durga and lord vishnu respectively):

but of course white people see this as weird and so they make fun of it, hence guru pathik having multiple arms just flailing about aimlessly (save for the two that are being used to carry the aforementioned onion and banana juice).

then there’s the whole light behind pathik’s head which is usually depicted in drawings of hindu gods to show that they are celestial.

also what the fuck is he holding? is that supposed to be a veena? because this is what a veena looks like:

and i assume the reason this was added was to mock the design of goddess saraswathi, who carries a veena:

but that right there in the picture of pathik looks more like a tambura than a veena. 

and it also just kinda looks like a banjo?

but i guess the animators just searched up “long indian instrument” and slapped it on there. actually no, that’s giving them too much credit, they probably didn’t search it up at all. 

and then the actual scene is pathik singing crazily about chakras tasting good or something while playing the non-veena and it’s all supposed to be some funky crazy hallucination that aang is having due to sleep deprivation. just some crazy dream, just as crazy as talking appa and momo sparring with swords or tree-ozai coming to life.

our gurus and swamis and sadhus and generally realized people are very respected in hinduism, they’re people we look up to and honor very much. and our GODS are beings that we literally worship. and the writers just take both and make caricatures out of them for other white people to laugh at.

4) other shit

before we move to the next portion i just wanna mention there are also smaller backhanded jabs that i can’t really remember now, but one example was when zuko was all “we’ll be sure to remember that, guru goody goody”. or when a character would meditate and say “om” only when the meditation is supposed to be portrayed as comical or pointless. or in bitter work when sokka was rambling on about karma. small things like that. but moving on.

south asian representation, or lack thereof

now i finally get to the “losing” hinduism part. by this i mean the lack of actual representation there is of south asians (the region where hinduism is primarily practiced) despite the fact that hinduism plays such a big role in the show’s world design.

i think it’s safe to say that broadly the main cast consists of aang, katara, sokka, zuko, toph, azula, iroh, mai, ty lee, and suki. 

a grand total of none of these characters are south asian. the writers don’t even attempt to add any south asian main characters. 

there are characters with dark skin, like haru and jet, but a) they’re not confirmed to be south asian and don’t have any south asian features or south asian names, b) they’re side characters, so they don’t count as representation, and c) even if they were south asian and main characters, jet wouldn’t even count because he’s portrayed as a terrorist.

the ONLY truly south asian character we get is fucking guru pathik. so yeah. not representation.

i don’t get how the creators of this show rip off of hinduism (among many other south asian cultures they rip off of), mock indians, and then don’t even have the decency to HAVE a main character who is south asian.

i’ve never gotten a chance to compile all this, and this definitely isn’t all the creators have done, but i hope this was somewhat informative.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [12]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, ptsd, abuse, death

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: two more chapters to go after this + an epilogue i haven’t written yet fdkjghdfkhg. things pick up next chapter don’t worry. i’d love to know your favourite parts so far if you have any!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Your first home, from what you could remember, was the overcrowded hall you shared with kids in and around your age. 

There was too much noise. Always too much noise. 

Even when the children were in their classes, there was always someone whose cries you could hear in the distance when they realised they had nowhere else to go, peals of laughter during lunch breaks, excited whispers when someone came to visit, nervous excuses when belongings went missing.

The orphanage you were brought up in was no place for a child. It was underfunded and an utterly miserable sight. But you made your first friends there. A fiery redhead and a boy who resembled a puppy with his shiny blonde hair and blue eyes. Their names escaped you now. 

Within structured schedules and learning to stow away candy left behind by volunteers so that they weren’t taken away by others, you found relief. You didn’t have a family. Caregivers came and went more than the seasons changed. But maybe what the girl and boy gave you came close. As close as six year olds could get, anyway. 

They were picked before you. The red head left first, and a few months later was the last you saw of the boy. You often wondered where they were, how they were doing. You never truly got answers, but it wasn’t like you went searching. 

You waited another year. They didn’t return. By then a man with a leather jacket who suspiciously wore sunglasses indoors had filled out the paperwork for you and two other kids. You had never interacted with them before until then. A few years down the line you were the only one of the three that remained anyway.

Your second house was in a dark hall. You weren’t allowed to roam around on your own; no one cared if you were 8 or 18. If you needed to be out of the way, you’d be out. 

The man who pulled you out of the orphanage you never saw again. A secret adoption, you found out years later, so that no one would know of your existence. All the paperwork he filled out would have mysteriously been destroyed. To the world, you never existed and outside the organisation you were simply another kid who slipped through the cracks.

He disappeared after you were introduced to another who looked to be in his late twenties. He nicknamed you Buttercup, introducing you as the newest member of his cartel. He told you you were delicate, that he’d give you purpose you didn’t think you could have.

The room was inconceivably small. It barely squeezed in a bed and a small closet with a few changes of clothes. It was dark and congested but it enamoured you. Something to yourself. You didn’t have to fight over it with others who had just as little as you.

The man let you hang around with him. He’d show you the artillery, the large fighting rings with men in them beating each other half to death, the rooms he’d hold meetings with where the lighting was a little darker than the rest. He said it made him look menacing and they needed that where he was working. You giggled.

You found a home with the man who was razor sharp and acidic but insisted it was out of love. You wanted to impress him so badly; begged him to let you in the ring, to wield a gun. He’d only shake his head no, saying that he was waiting for the right time.

For two years you were invited to see what would happen if someone disappointed him. Your first encounter with death was a man who had dared to run away. A bullet in his head later you realised that was the best way to kill someone. His favourite way. And you just wanted to be his favourite.

He didn’t take it easier just because you were ten. He only stopped them from fully killing you. 

“All these broken bones will heal,” he had said, “but you will always remember the pain. The minute you forget, it will happen again.”

So you didn’t forget. You observed and tried, and kicked yourself twice for every one mistake you made. Every time you’d look towards him for approval, he’d shake his head and point out everything wrong. You hated it. You hated it so fucking much. 

The rage you kept building had only one outlet, the one he provided. So it became instinct. It was all you knew.

 You found a home with a man you wanted to impress so bad, you never stopped to ask for what. To him, it was repayment for giving you purpose.

When you were fourteen you realised that no, the feeling in your stomach wasn’t from the previous week’s sparring session. It was butterflies. And for the grumpy new kid nonetheless. 

He was your age, but missing an arm and couldn’t remember how or why. You didn’t ask him many questions. He was silent, and a little grouchy, which you didn’t like. But you did like when he offered his hand to you after a fight and you did like the nice smile he occasionally had. 

You found a new home with his silent company and non-judgemental looks. He always seemed a little sad, like he was searching for something else. He was an excellent marksman and wasn't bad at hand to hand either.

He’d hang around your new room, one that was bigger than your initial place. You’d talk about new techniques you picked up. He talked about how he wished he remembered where he came from. 

He was a friend. You needed one. 

You remembered the night you were roughly shaken awake to the same boy saying he was going to be taken in the morning to the other centre. A permanent shift for reasons he didn’t know.

You didn’t get a chance to ask how or why, but in the flurry of him explaining that he had to go before someone noticed he left his room, he pressed a kiss to your lips in a rushed goodbye and ran back to the darkness. You were dazed for the rest of the night. You didn’t see him in the morning.

When you asked Ransone why he was gone, he mutely said that he was a distraction. You couldn’t afford one. He didn’t explain any further, no matter how much you begged.

Similar friends found themselves entering and exiting your life just as this boy did. You stopped keeping track. It hurt too much to wake up one morning to learn they weren’t there. You wondered why the influx of kids never stopped if you weren’t supposed to be friends with them. 

You realised years later that they were sent there to be ripped away from you as soon as possible. To toughen you up. 

He wouldn’t get rid of something immediately, not if it could be used to hurt you.

Your first mission was when you were fifteen. It was a small time thing; go threaten a man in his house so that he thought twice before crossing Ransone again. You did exactly as you were told, except while you were leaving you heard the cocking of a gun. You spun around and shot him in the shoulder, temporarily disabling him as you left. He cowered on the ground.

You couldn't find anyone as you stumbled back to the centre. There wasn’t a friend who you could vent to. All you had was Ransone. He congratulated you on your first shot, ignoring the trembling of your body and the redness that rimmed your eyes.

You realised that his approval didn’t mean so much to you anymore. If your only purpose was to harm, it wasn’t what you wanted. Not like you had a choice.

Then there was Scott, only brought in for minor things like breaking and entering. He was a funny one and you found yourself spending more and more time with him whenever he did show up. You pulled away when you realised that he was going to end up gone like the rest of the people when Ransone realised that you were paying more attention to him than you should.

He was a sneaky one though; climbed in during nights only to disappear by dawn before anyone saw. He was infectiously light, different from the darkness you were used to seeing. You sought out his brightness, his warmth and he happily gave it to you in unlit corridors and midnight trips that had your adrenaline spiking.

Scott lasted longer than anyone else. They didn’t consider him important enough to pay attention to and he never gave them any chance of doing it. He was, what you wanted to believe, your first love. Or what it felt like anyway, love was scarce and so you clung onto whatever he offered. 

There was a home in Scott that you wanted to keep alive. You found solace in his flustered repetitions and occasional cheesy magic trick. He made you laugh, and it lit up his face when you leaned over and kissed him gently. 

When you got the news that he was killed in a heist gone wrong, you didn’t feel anything for days. The man who broke the news to you looked at you with undertones of pity. 

Everyone knew it wasn’t an accident. 

You didn’t bring it up with Ransone and simply ignored it when he called it a good riddance even though he would be missed. If you listened to everything he said, you were afraid that you would just kill him.

It was excruciating. You didn’t have anyone to talk to. Only Ransone, as he kept reminding you.

“I’m the only one who cares about you, Buttercup,” he cooed and you clenched your eyes shut. “We’re family.”

No more relationships happened after that. Occasional coworkers-with-benefits but nothing that crossed that. You hadn’t had a friend in years, and Ransone was more than pleased to keep it that way. He was the only constant you’d had your entire life, willingly or not. 

People were placed in your way to only inform Ransone of what new updates were in your life. Once they sent whatever information he needed his way, they’d automatically be removed. Everyone had a hidden agenda. Everyone had a specific reason to want to talk to you.

You just let them. What was the point of trying to hide it? You weren’t going to escape any time soon.

“Your only home,” Ransone reminded you, “is here with me.”

You rebelled, many times. Some looked like they would last. In the end you’d return to his dingy office for your next mission because as much as you despised him for the things he had done to you, the guilt over the things he had done for you overshone. Having him as your enemy would be worse than having his convoluted sense of love shoved down your throat until you were forced to accept him. 

And that’s what it had been like until now.

You try and take in as much as you can of the house you’re standing in right now. What you used to find restrictive and a crude form of punishment, you found calming. The mundane nature of everyday life was charming. 

It wasn’t a vacation, you reminded yourself. But the same feeling of emptiness returned every time you thought of your next move.

You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to go back to what you once thought was a home. 

You’d eat a thousand dry peanut butter sandwiches over and over again for the rest of your life before even considering going back. You didn’t care for the lack of twenty-first century technology. 

You were feeling things you had shoved away years ago because it wasn’t a life meant for you. Now that you were forced to live it and see what it could be like not living in a fight-or-flight mode every second, you can’t see how you ever survived this long. 

But still, you had told Ransone that you were returning, and it was a promise he would expect you to uphold. 

You tried to remember as much as you can of your time here. The way the sunlight feels against your skin in the morning, the sugariness of the jelly that was basically finished, the worn out tactical clothing from the wardrobe, the leather of the couch clinging to your skin as you rewatch the same three movies time and time again.

You tried to remember the first time you were introduced to the target board, and the range you and Sam had crafted together. The path to the specific tree and back on your runs and the grass that had wilted along it from contant treading.

You sat on the porch stairs for hours, leaning against the pillar for support. The first house you lived in was too loud, the second was too quiet. But this; this was just right. 

Sam joined you eventually in the silence. You were grateful for the company. 

“Have you decided on a day?”

You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”

“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”

He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, looking like he was crouching instead of sitting.

His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you. “In case Ransone sees me and decides to…” 

He gestured lewdly, sighing when you peer at him in confusion, “...kill me, you need to continue-”

“Stop talking,” you interrupted him quietly. You don’t even want to think about that possibility.

“It can happen. I hope it doesn’t, because it’s a waste of a perfectly good face,” he continues but you just shake your head, trying to drown him out. “Then promise me you’ll do your best to get out. This life isn’t for us, Y/N.”

“I’m not going to let you die,” you muttered. “Not this time.”

“I’m not saying I will, honey,” he continues in a hushed tone, not disturbing the silence built around you, “But it’d make me happy knowin’ that at least one of us gets a shot to live another life. And I know you make good on your promises.”

You were so tired. Of everything. Knowing that you’d be dragged back into it only made the pain sharpen.

“Scout’s honour,” you vowed. He let out a smile at the memory of the last time he used it, lifting his arm to put over your shoulder as you scoot in closer to him.

You sit like that for who knows how long. The night fell hours ago but you don’t want to let go. 

“It’s gettin’ pretty late,” he commented.

“I don’t want to go.”

“You’re gonna need some energy for tomorrow.” He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it.

“It’s your turn at the bed tonight,” you evade it. 

“You can have it,” he debated softly. If it was your last day there, then he’d do anything to make it the best one. 

You’re stuck by an idea but you weren’t sure how he’d react. It wouldn’t be a big deal on the surface but you hadn’t ever done it before.

“Would you maybe-” you trail off.

“We can share,” he finished your thought, pulling you a little closer. You needed comfort. He knew that.

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

He only pressed a kiss to your temple, letting you sit out for as long as you needed.

Calm. 

The woods provided excellent coverage while also giving him a clear sight of the house. The two of you sat on the porch together, speaking quietly to each other, out of earshot. 

It didn’t matter what you were saying now. He had already heard what he needed to hear. 

“Get ready,” the agent said hushedly into the intercom, “they’re leaving tomorrow.”

Next part

[rosebloodcat]

Some Ni no Kuni 2 crossover ideas

I tried to find some fun crossovers to read for Ni no Kuni 2, but I was sad to find that there really weren’t that any out there.

But I have no brain for writing (and am trying to keep myself working on a different story) so I’m going to share the ideas that have been swirling around in the back of my head on here and on Ao3. Let other people have the fun of bring them to life.

So, if you see any on here that you like/want to try, go ahead and take them! (Also, I’ll probably be breaking this up into separate posts if I think it’s getting too long.)

Ni no Kuni 2 x Wolfwalkers: Roland as a wolf walker whose magic was damaged and hadn't been able to use it for a long time. (It's been healed/is healing while in Kuni) He uses the limited magic he does have access to help Even and his fledgling kingdom.

~ Roland can’t/doesn’t turn into a wolf when he sleeps, but he can call on some of the heightened senses while human. (He uses them during the escapes and to look out for monsters. Does a good job of preventing ambushes that way.)

~ He can force his wolf to appear in a panic/do or die situation, but it’s more glowing and spectral than solid and can only be present for a few minutes at most. His human body immediately collapses while the wolf is separate and he’s drained/exhausted when he wakes again.

~ Healing minor wounds is doable but it quickly exhausts him. And if he tries to force his magic to heal someone, it’ll have a backlash effect on him. (basically, if he tries to heal a serious injury, he’ll end up injured.)

~ He’s a little wolfy, when he feels like it. Sniffs with his nose, growls when annoyed (and not trying to hide it), huffs when he’s amused, etc.

~ Is also a little amused when it dawns on him that he’s a wolf (big dog) and protecting a Cat-child King.

Ni no Kuni 2 x Harry Potter: Reincarnation AU in HP with Roland as a jilted Harry who's left to build his own life and stumbled into his past lives' friends.

(Look, JKR sucks, but I love the sand box she put out and will gleefully tell canon to shove it while I play there.)

~ (Possibly also have Roland/Harry be not-fully-human?) Roland/Harry lost their magic after an accident/student-sabotage-gone-way-wrong in 4th year, he lost his magic and was basically tossed out by the Wizarding World.

~ Someone tried to sabotage him by keeping him from getting to either the first or second task. Possibly stunned him and locked him somewhere in the castle to keep him from getting their in time. The Hogwarts students seem spiteful enough that I can see someone doing it. Especially an older year who thinks bad of Harry already due to all the questionable things that surround him anyway.

~ Maybe something like Dumbledore favoring him and letting him cheat/be an exception to let Gryffindor be top dog in the school, or that he’d OBVIOUSLY cheated to join and SOMETHING needed to be done since the teachers weren’t doing anything about it, or something else along those lines. And, obviously, they have no idea what the cost for not participating in the Tournament is. (I mean, it never gets brought up in the book/movie. They just say that Harry HAS to participate and he can’t drop out.)

~ The cost was his magic, but thankfully not his life since he WAS entered against his will. He’s not a big fan of them, even though his magic has started coming back. (Or it had been replaced by some kind on non-human inheritance followed several years later by his magic coming back.)

~ Mostly avoids WW and its issues. Just trying to live his (new) life without their drama messing it up.

~ Dadland definitely shows up at some point. Circumstances are still unknown, but it shows up at some point.

~ The not-fully human thing could be an irony-based idea, especially if the not-human Kuni members ARE human in this life.

Ni no Kuni 2 x Katekyo Hitman Reborn: Roland is from KHR-verse, specifically as a Latent but in-the-know when sent to Kuni.

~ He pegs Evan as a Latent Sky (possibly) and starts following him because of that. (Doesn’t think he’ll Harmonize, but he wants to keep the little sky-kitten safe anyways)

~ I wanna say Roland is either a Sun (for his “Sunny” personality), a Cloud (ready to throw down and tough as nails to beat, but also not as wild as a Storn), or a Mist (because that pecker is a politician and that requires being able to bend the truth like it’s a rubber straw).

Alternative for this one: Incarnation Katekyo Hitman Reborn, all their drama is involved but not central to KHR story. (No thoughts on this one. Just that this would be a kind of reverse-world situation of the other KHR fic.)

I have more, but the next/other one is more than a bit longer than these and I feel it deserves it’s own post because of that.

[peterrparrkerr]

Hit mad falls in love with target - read on ao3

*-*

Peter waved frantically at Tony when he walked into the lab, eyes glued to a computer screen.

"Tony, quick! Look!" He demanded, nearly vibrating in his chair.

Tony made his way over, hands clasped behind his back as he leaned over Peter's shoulder.

"Isn't it awesome?" The young man asked, waving his hands around.

"What am I looking at?" Tony asked.

"Its cancer," Peter said. He points to different colored lines in the graph, all jagged and fluctuating. "This is breast cancer, and this one is pancreatic, skin, lung."

Tony hums as Peter continues to list each colored line as a different form of cancer.

"I was able to isolate the individual cells from everything else, and- look, look!"

Peter snatches Tony by the shirt sleeve and tugs him from one monitor to the one on the other side of the lab. He taps his fingers on the screen, bouncing on his heels.

"These are the cells after being treated with non-radioactive therapy," Peter said, looking up at Tony. "The number of cancer cells is cut in half within a week!"

Peter then drags Tony across the lab again, babbling excitedly as he does so. "Do you know what this means? This means we can start human testing! And we can market the treatment for practically nothing!"

He shows Tony a live feed of the treatment in action from a TV monitor.

"Think about the possibilities," Peter grinned. "Anyone can get treated, no matter their financial standing. And the treatment isn't as harmful as chemo or radiation. It doesn't attack the body as a whole, it isolates the cancer cells and leaves the rest of the body alone.

"No more hair loss or side effects. And we could cut remission in half too," Peter said. "Just think, this time next year, we could start selling to hospitals all over the world."

Tony smiles down at the younger man. He had known within the first day of meeting Peter that he wouldn't be able to follow through. He's glad he hadn't.

"Have you told anybody else?" He asks casually.

"Ned knows," Peter said. "And Bruce, but they were here when it happened."

"Where are they now?"

Peter gives Tony a wry smile, still too excited about his treatment working.

"I sent them home a couple hours ago," he said. "We've all been awake for almost three days, so I'm sure they've gone to bed already."

"You should be in bed too, don't you think?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter waves him off, shaking his head as he goes to his work desk. "I'll sleep later," he said, pulling his lab coat off and draping it over the chair.

He's dressed in his usual outfit; comfortable pants and a button up.

"Plus, I knew you'd make your rounds around this time, and I wanted to tell you," Peter said with a grin, grabbing his personal items.

That was part of Tony's cover. A janitor for the building Peter worked for. Hes wearing a navy blue jump suit, though he's left the cart out in the hallway.

"I'll walk you to your car," Tony hums, leading the way out. When he'd first started this, he'd offered his company to get closer to Peter -to find his vulnerabilities.

Now though, he does it because he's protecting the young scientist.

He'd skipped out with 45 thousand dollars paid to kill the boy, but as the days had gone on, and Peter had grown comfortable with him, Tony realized he couldn't steal him from the world.

Peter was incredible. He worked tirelessly to find a cure for cancer. He's already created a new insulin for diabetes that he's made available to everyone for only $10 a month -something not many other medical professionals liked.

Peter was making enemies left and right, and Tony decided to make it his job to keep him breathing. If not for the rest of his life, then for as long as it takes for the young scientist to see an end to cancer.

The boy wasn't getting much in terms of money for his creations. In fact, from what Tony's come to learn, the boy doesn't own a car, and rents an apartment with his aunt. 

He sees enough to live paycheck to paycheck and this new treatment won't do much to better his life, but he's not concerned with money. He wants to make Healthcare more effective and affordable.

Tony's got morals. Enough of them to know when a hit is a bad investment. That didn't stop him from taking his payment anyway.

The two make it to the car park. Its dark, the overhead lights buzzing annoyingly. Its empty, save for a couple cars belonging to a few of the security guards, and the car Peter shares with his aunt.

It's an older model, grey paint chipping and metal beneath rusting near the wheels. Peter talks animatedly beside him, lands flailing in front of him.

Tony glances around them, scowling as he takes in the familiar cement structure.

"Wait," Tony says, just as Peter's pulling the keys from his pocket. They're a couple feet away from the car, and the hairs on Tony's arms and neck stand on end.

"What is it?" Peter asked curiously, reaching for the door handle.

It's just as Peter grips the handle that Tony sees the wire connected to the metal lock on the other side of the glass.

Tony is quick to react, grabbing Peter by the arms and wrenching him away from the door.

Peter yelps in surprise, but its cut out by the sound of a small explosion. Tony braces for the blast of air that knocks the two off their feet, and grits his teeth at the heat that follows.

Peter's pressed against the cement, Tony weighing down on him. His ears ring, but he quickly gets to his feet, unzipping his jumpsuit and grabbing the .9 mm from the waistband of his jeans.

The car is ablaze, crackle-popping and sizzling. Its just the cab thats on fire, but Tony knows its only a matter of seconds before the flames reach the engine and the fuel line.

Tony looks around him, trying to find the culprit -though he knows from experience that the man won't be here.

He grabs Peter by the armpits and pulls him to his feet. Blood smears against his forehead and jaw. His hands and arms are scraped up and Tony can tell his knees are busted too, but it doesn't look like anything damaging.

"We gotta go," Tony urges, already half dragging the younger back towards the building.

"You-you have a gun," Peter gapes, stumbling after Tony, arm in the older's hard grip. "Why do you have a gun?"

Tony reaches the door for the stairwell.

"I'm a hired gun," Tony said, glancing up, then down, gun following his eyeline before pushing Peter towards the stairs going up.

"I thought you were a janitor," Peter gasped, climbing the stairs and swaying. Tony places his free hand on Peter's lower back.

"Thats just a front," Tony confessed. "We got to get you out of here."

"Someone blew up my car," Peter said, panting as they continue up to the first floor. "Aunt May is gonna kill me."

"Not if Buck doesn't kill you first," Tony grunted, pulling Peter out of the stairwell and into the main lobby.

Tony's car is around the side of the building, but its open to attack. Tony can't keep Peter trapped inside the building though, so he risks it.

Their feet slap loudly on the asphalt as they run for the nondescript black SUV Tony had taken to driving.

He checks around the vehicle, under and inside before issuing Peter into the back seat.

Tires screech as Tony peels out of the parking lot.

"What- whats happening? Tony, what- why do-"

"Someones trying to kill you, Peter," Tony said, blowing past the guard tower at the exit of the parking lot.

"But why?" Peter asked dumbly, voice slurring slightly as more blood turns the side of his face crimson.

"I'll answer all your questions when we're safe," Tony promised, eyes frantically shifting from the area ahead of him to the rear view mirror.

Peter must really be feeling the effects of his head slamming into the concrete, because he doesn't protest.

"Lay down," Tony orders, merging into traffic and slowing down. "Lay low until I say."

Peter does -Tony thinks mostly because of his head injury. Tony relaxes a little, knowing the scientist won't be gunned down in the back seat.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere safe," Tony answered, keeping an eye behind him.

He doesn't see a tail, but he takes a round-about way to his safe house, just outside of Queens.

When they get to the small cabin, Tony checks the building before helping Peter inside.

"I think I have a concussion," Peter mumbles, swaying on his feet as Tony guides him to the kitchen chair.

"I don't doubt it," Tony agrees, setting his gun down on the table beside Peter's elbow before grabbing the first aid kit.

He pulls another chair over in front of the young scientist and opens the red box.

"Let me see your hands," Tony orders. Peter does, palms up. Tony begins to clean them and his arms.

"Tony," Peter says, breaking the silence. Tony doesn't say anything. He reaches up to clean the blood from the side of Peter's cheek.

"Is your name actually Tony?"

Tony makes eye contact before nodding.

"And you're a hired gun?" Peter asks, slightly breathless. "Like, like a hitman?"

"Yes," Tony answers, reaching the cut on Peter's hairline. Peter winces, but doesn't pull away.

"You kill people for a living?"

"Yes."

It takes Peter a couple seconds, but it seems to hit him. Hes bolting to his feet, the chair clattering behind him.

Tony leans back into the chair, watching as Peter begins to pace.

"What- Tony, you have to tell me whats going on," Peter demands, hand on his head. Tony knows from experience that pacing tends to help the scientist expell excess energy.

"I will," Tony nods. Peter continues his pacing. Back and forth beside the kitchen counter.

"Why- why are people trying to kill me?" He demanded. "Who blew up my car?"

Tony sets the paper towels down on the table, knowing Peter won't sit still for him to properly tend to him.

"The one who blew up your car is another hitman," Tony said. "Goes by the name Winter Soldier."

"You called him Buck," Peter said, pointing an accusatory finger at Tony, eyes narrowed.

"I did," Tony nodded. "Hitmen tend to run in the same circles, though we don't always like each other. Bucky was probably hired to finish the job."

"Finish the job," Peter repeated dumbly. "I'm the job?"

Tony nods, once more letting Peter process. He knew Peter would figure it out without Tony's help. He was smart.

"Finish the job means someone already tried to- to kill me," Peter said, panting as he continued to pace. The wound at his hairline is bleeding sluggishly, dripping down his temple and towards his jaw.

Peter wipes at it without thought, smearing blood against his cheek. He pauses to look down at his hand, fingers glistening in red.

He touches his forehead again, as if remembering he's still injured, then turns to Tony, accusation and fear in his Bambi brown eyes.

"You," he said softly, in disbelief. "You were hired to kill me, weren't you."

"I was," Tony nodded.

"But you haven't," Peter said. Tony can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. "And, and now whoever hired you hired the Winter Soldier."

Tony only nods. Peter takes a shuddering inhale and has to grip the counter with a bloody hand to stabilize himself.

"I'm- I'm- who- who would want to-to kill me?!"

"The payment was anonymous," Tony said. "Thats how it works. But whoever it is is threatened by you."

Peter looks at Tony incredulously. "Me? Why me? I'm the least threatening person -like- ever!"

"You've cost Big Pharma millions with your insulin," Tony said. "You've patented it, so they can't take it and upcharge the way they've been doing. And if your treatment for cancer is a success, you'd be costing them even more."

Peter takes a moment to process that before he nods. "Right, yeah. I knew I was going to make a lot of people mad about that, but. But I never expected anyone to actually try to kill me."

"Money is a powerful motive," Tony said, a little too much experience leaking into his tone.

Peter hears it, because he stops his pacing, shoulders dropping. Exhaustion seems to pull him towards the floor like an anvil tied to his spine.

He sways a little, and Tony's about to offer him the chair again, but he moves to it willingly. When he sits, their knees are barely touching, and he blinks dazedly at his bloody hand.

Tony grabs a clean rag and leans forward to clean up the blood from Peter's head. The younger lets him, still processing and no doubt sluggish from the concussion.

"Why didn't you?" Peter asked after Tony had taped gauze to his hairline. It was patchy and poorly done, but it would help.

"Why didn't I what," Tony hummed, using an alcoholic wet wipe to clean the remaining blood from Peter's hands. The boy winces at the burn to his scraped palms.

"Kill me," he said, swallowing thickly. "You had plenty of opportunity."

Tony sighed, setting the wipes down before leaning forward and looking Peter in the eye.

"Because I believe in the work you're doing," he said honestly. "And I'm going to make sure you finish it."

Peter blinks once, twice, before breaking eye contact and sighing, body eating to melt into the chair as the air leaves his lungs.

"Come on," Tony said, standing up and slipping the gun into the waistband of his pants. Then offering his hand. "This place is safe. Theres a bed you can sleep in."

"I shouldn't sleep with a concussion," Peter said weakly, taking Tony's offered hand anyway.

"Its mild, I'm sure you'll be fine," Tony mused, heading deeper into the cabin to the bedroom.

The bedroom isn't anything special. A twin bed in the corner, a four drawer dresser and a blackout curtain.

Peter climbs onto the bed, not bothering with the covers or taking his shoes off. Tony thinks its best he sleep with them on anyway, in case Bucky finds them.

Tony moves to leave, grabbing the handle, and Peter bolts upright again, eyes wide.

"You're okay," Tony promises. "I'll be right outside."

Peter gives the barest shake of his head. "Stay here, please," he says softly.

Tony nods, shutting the door and turning off the light before making his way to the side of the bed. Theres an old step stool there, and he sits down at the head of the bed.

Peter lays back down, body too tense to ever fall asleep. Tony keeps his ears attuned to any noise that could alert him to Bucky, or anyone else, gun sitting perfectly stop on his knee, finger off the trigger, but ready at a moments notice.

"Tony?"

"Yes, Peter."

Peter shuffles around, and Tony turns his head just in time to feel pillow soft lips connect with the corner of his mouth.

He can't help but smirk as Peter settles back down. "Thanks for not killing me."

Tony chuckles at that, leaning his head against the wall. "I may be a hitman, but I've got morals," he says into the dark room. "Besides, nobody likes cancer."

Peter laughs tiredly at that before reaching his hand out and grabbing Tony's. Their fingers interlock, and Tony doesn't really know which one of them initiated it.

"You're going to be okay," Tony continued. "I wont let anyone hurt you. You're safe with me."

"I know."

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis cries during sex. If you enjoy our rec lists, please take the time to like this post and especially to reblog it to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) I Could Be Your China Doll | Explicit | 2138 words

"This is my punishment for you, my slut." Harry kisses Louis' inner thighs and Louis shivers at his boyfriend's touch. Harry moves out of the bed again but Louis can hear shuffling and he knows that Harry is getting something not so good. The noise stops as the footsteps of the older guy suddenly become too loud for his ears.

2) Lips Are Like The Galaxy’s Edge | Mature | 2360 words

Harry licks over Louis’ hole slowly, deliberately, and his tongue is like velvet and Louis’ skin is burning at every junction where Harry touches him and it’s all so good he thinks he might cry. He licks a few more times, moaning softly like he’s relishing the taste of Louis and that’s just, well, fuck.

3) Louder Louder | Explicit | 2931 words

There's really only one way to get Louis out of a mood this terrible, and Harry is prepared to sacrifice his entire evening if necessary.

4) Heaven In These Sheets | Explicit | 3557 words

Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

5) As Clean As A Sinner Can Be | Not Rated | 3394 words

If you asked Harry, he would tell you it’s not his fault they were in this predicament. It’s not his fault that his hair is getting too long (it is, he’s too lazy and too stubborn to let Lou cut it). It’s not his fault that because said hair is too long he had to find some way of keeping it out of his eyes (gelling it back wasn’t his style and snapbacks more times than not bugged him). It’s not his fault that Zayn had ripped his shirt sleeve off of his favourite button down shirt and he couldn’t part with it (plus he had far too much time on his hands in between shows) so he fashioned a headband, or as others would call it a head scarf, and found that it really helped keep the hair out of his eyes. Nor is he at fault for the fact that he looked like a sex god every time he wore the damn thing and really it was all his fault at how turned on it made Louis.

6) When I Hear Your Cries, Praying For Life. (I Will Be There) | Explicit | 5623 words

Well, I figured we needed Larry birthday sex, soooo.....

7) Singing Your Praises | Explicit | 6226 words

Prompt 86: Louis rides Harry while wearing his packer’s jersey/sweater and gets his ass ate.

8) Sugar, With Just The Right Amount Of Spice. | Explicit | 6314 words

Harry’s old fashioned when it comes to sex, he loves being face to face with his partner, watching their reactions to everything Harry gives them. He never does anything else then fuck in missionary position. Louis loves his sex life with Harry - but he’s getting a bit bored with doing the same position, all he really wants is for Harry to be rough with him, take control and dominate him for once.

9) Give It Up To Me | Explicit | 8134 words

"You're going to end up making me come with all the boys in our lounge," he finished, his tone softening the longer he spoke.

"And?" Harry murmured, placing his palm over the crevice of Louis' arse, keeping the plug nice and tight inside of him. "What if I wanted you to?"

10) Making A Splash | Explicit | 9557 words

“You want this?” Harry muses, fisting his cock as he drags his hand lazily up his thick length. Louis eyes the motion and nods his head absentmindedly. “You want to show everyone at this beach how much of a slut you are for Daddy’s cock?”

“M‘your slut,” Louis immediately replies, inching closer, inching closer with his eyes glued on Harry’s glistening cock, precome shining under the sun as it dribbles out his slit.

Harry grins widely and stops the movement of his hand to grip himself at the base again, pushing Louis’ head down. “Show everyone how much of a slut you are.”

11) Place Your Head On My Beating Heart | Explicit | 10860 words

The AU where porn sensation Harry Styles takes his newbie to his place and gets him to come untouched twice before even fingering him and they may or may not fall in love at some point between second and third orgasms.

12) Know You Got That Thing (That I Like) | Explicit | 15798 words

In all the ways he thought about their reunion going, watching Louis finger himself open was not on the list.

13) Baby, Let Me Love You Goodbye | Explicit | 20249 words

Louis almost calls Harry daddy. Cue denial, feelings, and way too much dirty talk.

14) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23561 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

15) Give So Much (Not Enough) | Explicit | 24610 words

“For my little lion,” Louis slid the smoothie bowl in front of Oscar, letting him dig in with his little hands. “And for daddy.”

He didn’t process the bowl in front of him, the push across the table causing a raspberry to roll off and fall on his lap, because Louis calling himself mummy may make him feel all sorts of mushy emotions, but Louis addressing Harry as daddy was suddenly having a very different effect on him. Since when did Louis saying daddy out loud render him speechless?

“Daddy’s still sleepy, but we’re up bright and early right Ossie?” Louis’ cooing shook him out of his daze. The man coughed, picking the raspberry off his lap and swallowing it with unintentional, and very unnecessary, eye contact with Louis. “Well, is it better than your protein smoothies and why?”

 Harry chuckled, spooning another heap of the strawberry banana goodness into his mouth, “Way better sweetheart.”

16) Put In Them Hours | Explicit | 25009 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

AU where Louis makes the poor decision of hiring an unfairly attractive assistant. Inspired by Rachel and Tag from Friends.

17) Honey, Make This Easy | Explicit | 25483 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

AU; Harry’s sister recently passed away, leaving him with temporary custody of her daughter. Needing help, he hires Louis as a nanny and the boy turns out to be help in more ways than he expected.

18) What's Mine Is Yours To Make Your Own | Explicit | 39919 words | Sequel

Sometimes, the closest Harry ever feels to home is Louis. It's their shared hotel rooms on tour, their shoes toed off in the doorway next to each other, jackets hung on the same post.

19) Worth Dying For | Explicit | 44906 words

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

20) No Easy Choice, But You’re Mine | Explicit | 45601 words

Louis is an omega hitman with one last job that goes a little sideways. Harry is the alpha bartender that looks a little too closely and cares a little too much.

21) Sedative Duty. | Explicit | 46588 words

Pop-star of the moment Louis Tomlinson is on his third-world tour. He decides to hire renowned professional dominant Harry Styles to unwind while on the road. In an effort not to raise suspicion by the crew, fans, and press,  Harry pretends to be his bodyguard. He ends up being far more than that.It's everything he doesn't notice until it's been taken away from him.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

New York High Rise {1}

Chapter summary; During all your years as the most successful mob boss of New York, no-one have ever dared to seriously battle for the crown with you. Up until now. Steven Grant Rogers, son of the infamous mob boss Joseph Rogers, has suddenly chosen you as his rival. Who will be winning in the end?

Pairing: Steve x reader  

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 1/5

Word; 5.9k

Warnings; swearing is standard in my works, mentions of canon-type violence 

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I actually started this series on a whim and all of a sudden ended up having four chapters. I really love it for some reason, maybe because it such a powerplay and I’m a hoe for that trope, especially when it’s a enemies to lovers story. Anyhow, enough of my rambling, I hope you guys enjoy this little mid week update! PSA: If you want to be tagged in the series, jus send me an ask!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Golden chains and champagne. Fancy watches and whiskey on the rocks. Whatever related to the word expensive you were associated with. Although, unlike many others in your business, you hadn't grown up in this world of luxury, nor had you inherited the empire you now were the boss of, enabling you to live the extravagance life you did. No, you were one of the few who'd worked their ass off to earn every last thing you owned.

By most, your efforts looked like a great business mind and some luck. How else could you've become a multi-millionaire on investing in stocks? But to others, those knowing the flipside of the coin, they knew your success in capitals was nothing but a cover for your stealthy work in the shadows. It was a dance, one with feline grace, that you'd performed to reach your position. A status meaning you were one of the most famous mob bosses in New York City.

When hearing mafia, most would think of the old Italian image of people smoking cigars in fedoras, with some moustache that looked similar to pencil lines on their upper lip. Those who owned cities and the whole country knew of it but could do nothing about it.

Perhaps some of these stereotypes suited the older godfathers of New York, who sat proudly on their pedestals and watched the world pass by. But you were different from them. You didn't just watch the world continue and progress by itself. You moved along with it.

You were the new generation.

Compared to the godfathers, who every last person in New York and the bordering states knew off, you had two faces. One you showed the public and one you ruled the underworld with. To society, you were spotless, a name associated with nothing but a sharp mind and benevolence to the public. But you were at the top in the underworld syndicate, the biggest of the biggest. Yet, you didn't rule with fear, simply that of uttermost respect and earned trust. In other words, your reputation or connections weren't bought. They were deserved.

Thus, compared to the older generations, your face could be recognised by a civilian or someone from the underworld, none thinking about calling the police or betraying your trust. You owned the city without it even knowing it.

It was from the way you'd reached this top in stunning silence, together with the grace you played everyone with, that you and your empire earned the alias felines. Like a tiger cub who grew into an adult, your empire was once the smallest but now the biggest. Like a lion, you evoke respect and awe no matter where you went. Like a cat no one cared about, you could cross the streets without an issue in public.

Some of the elders, at least those who were your allies, had expressed their concern of your brassiness. 'Why play cat and mouse with fate?' they often said. But you always answered the same 'I am the cat'. And it was true. Despite some of those opposed to your methods, or just you in general, took the chances they could at picking you off the map. No one ever succeeded. Solely for one reason.

Now, you deemed agreeing to one of your first ever business deals the best choice you ever made. Although it meant you financed some of the worlds leading underground tech corporation with quite some substantial coin, the panthers were nowadays always watching over you. They lingered in the shadows, disarming every try at putting a bullet through your skull.

Albeit not as famous as yourself or the organisation you ran, the Black Panther Operation the sibling pair T'Challa and Shuri operated was, in no shape or form, not impressive. They'd established themselves as the leading organisation, even if not known by half of the people in New York, in the tech area. Not only were they invaluable to the numerous politicians wanting them to work under the radar to get the upper hand on sovereign states, but they also were to you.

They hadn't only supplied you with their physical protection of their elite bodyguards, the Dora Milaje or in common-tongue known as the shadow panthers, but their tech as well. Although, compared to anyone who would've been in your position and chosen the weapons or impenetrable bodysuit that Shuri, ever the genius she was, had invented, you'd chosen one of the other assets. The cloud, the internet.

Hackers were the way forwards compared to warriors. They were the weapon of keeping you one step ahead of anyone by supplying you with the information needed to be able to hold someone's life in your hands.

It was only to look back at the countless occasions anyone tried to persuade you into a business deal you would do nothing but lose at. Thanks to Shuri having dug out the facts that could bring any of your rivals down in the dumps, you'd walked victorious away anyways.

You were certain any of the other godfathers would've killed someone for even thinking, no less trying, to propose a disreputable arrangement with them in the first place. Yet, you knew how much one ever could make a death look like a self-caused accident, that in the end, people would start to wonder why it happened to people of the same background, connected to one and the same empire. However, the former generations didn't really care about bad publicity anyway, so why would they care about lining the street with dead bodies? But the difference was you weren't them.

By all means, some would say your ways was far more torturous than a bullet between the eyes. You wouldn't agree or disagree, only say it was just. Involving a legal and judicial battle was the new way of handling conflicts, after all. It was more efficient than having to wash the blood of your name all the time, according to you. Not only that, you gained a lot more than just a dead body.

You were in somewhat of partnership with most bosses around the city. Those you weren't, rather those you'd only settled a deal with that said "as long as you kept to each of your own territory nothing would happen", did try to bend the rules and use the terror tacit. Either they targeted you personally or something equally as important in your part of the city. It could be anything that would get to you, really. But, no matter what they did, they tried to not do it themselves. Instead, hire a hitman or someone equally as bad. The problem with this was that these people's records were far from innocent, something you used to your advantage.

If you tasked Shuri to find anything and everything these people had done, it was easy to find a person they'd wronged and who sought revenge or justification. The only thing you did was play your hand well, usually meaning you pulled some strings and supply the money. While T'Challa, as the expert he was on it, handed out the information his sister had gathered to reliable sources. Your collaboration made the person you hunted sit opposite someone from their past in a courtroom. Most of the times, they also lost the case.

Choosing to do this rather than go rampage and fire your gun aimlessly meant you settled as a second, or sometimes even third or four-hand source to what went down. So not only did your name remain clear despite answering a rivals offence, your involvement was nearly impossible to track as well. Thus, you could take down five of a rivals' men while they only took one of yours.

Despite one could call you out on hypocrisy, saying that the shadow panthers protecting you didn't own the same benevolence and were quick and silent in their killing, there was one reason you didn't care about the fact. Currently, they may be under a shared command, but their never-ending allegiance was always towards the founders of the Black Panther Operation. If either Shuri or T'Challa said stand back or decided to cut their deal with you, the shadow panther's protection would disappear. The same went if you chose to rip the contract.

However, it was a slim chance that either of the siblings or you would terminate your arrangement. Seeing how now, years later, you still were the sole person working a continuous agreement with them. That was why nowadays, your and theirs organisations were nearly associated as the same by most in the underworld.

Your style of ruling New York and living such different lives in the light and dark made others in your profession joke you were the sole one with an ordinary life. That you were no traditional mafia, simply a highly functioning business-orientated company that invested in stocks. However, both you and everyone around you knew that wasn't true. The reason? You weren't afraid to use every last of your assets to remain in control of your empire. Whatever it took.

And that was a promise someone the last months had put up to the test.

You don't know what set it off, perhaps the old saying of cats and dogs never working well together. Or that because you were at the top drew enough confidence out of someone to try and knock you down. For whatever reason, someone decided to start a ruckus with you.

It had begun small enough you had no idea that someone was behind it. Connections or deals with companies connected to your empire backing out of contracts in the last seconds, saying they got a better offer. The word secrecy, frequently used for ones own safety in the world you lived in, was a term you'd heard enough times by now to grow tired of. It was no significant agreements, seeing how you were well enough to not care about money, but it was plenty bothersome for your pride.

The next step in the escalation had been dealings slightly more important than a question of money, which was your territory and thereby also safety. You still had some meetings with a few godfathers, had fore some time actually. It was mostly those who once had opposed you in the days you weren't a threat or those who just tried to live secludedly enough that they died by natural causes rather than in a cell or from rivalry.

Each of those conferences had been about securing your grip on Manhattan. Primarily to obtain some neighbourhoods closest to Harlem Park and the northern part of the Inwood neighbourhood. Both of which currently was in some sort of grey zone. Meaning neither owned by them nor you. Although those areas were still not written as yours, concerning how those old bosses abruptly didn't seem to want to seal any deals that they weeks ago had agreed on.

Then you'd entered the third stage. The one that made you understand all these cancellations wasn't merely coincidence, but somebody working against you. People from both your closest crew and the Black Panther section had been disappearing. It wasn't uncommon. Your business was nothing but personal feelings and wants most of the times. However, concerning how few men and women you'd lost under your watch, this sudden increase was off-putting.

Closer to the truth was something like this had never happened to this extent before. You hadn't had people close to you or anyone associated with you abducted. However, the worst thing was that the bodies of those disappearing were never not found bloody or in a morgue.

Money or failing to persuade old godfathers wasn't something you took personal, but when people started dropping like flies around you, that you took personally. Hence, you, Shuri and T'Challa worked endlessly on finding who was behind it.

Almost every time, you found the culprit of the act, but not the big boss behind it all. Disabling you from taking more than one person out of play. That your jaw hadn't broken for how much you'd clenched it in frustration, or your teeth shattered from the amount you gritted them was a mystery. You hunted the person ordering these things, yet with no success.

Although one day, when one of the subordinates in your very own team had been missing for a week returned, barely clinging to their consciousness, you'd gotten to know who this new rival of yours was.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The canines, an alias for the Rogers family, were equally known as any of the old US President in the underworld in New York. If one hadn't heard of them in your profession, it was more likely that you already were dead or not in it all because they were notorious.

They'd ruled Brooklyn with an iron fist and was probably the crown specimen of the reputation that accompanied the word mafia. There was a grace in their affairs and killing. But compared to your work, which was performed in shadows and silence, they flaunted it, not scared of running from the police because they already knew they never would be caught.

From what you knew, they'd fallen off somewhat after Joseph Rogers, the head of the Canine Empire, died in one of the rivalries between mobs. His death had been years before you were even born, close to an age it was as high of a chance he could've passed from natural causes. Still, the commotion and continuous dispute following his disappearance and the unclear leadership had served as a fall for the Canine Empire. There was no doubt your rise to the same amount of power as the former union possessed would've been as easy if you'd had them as your opponents.

However, now, it seemed like the past would haunt you down in the form of Joseph Rogers son.

Albeit you never met the new boss of the Canines, there was no doubt you considered, for the first time, to personally put a bullet through someone's head. Steven Grant Rogers was as ruthless as stories told his father had been. He'd even been labelled the golden boy of Brooklyn, rumoured to restore the brutal power of the Canine Empire. Yet, the spot he was reaching for with old alliances regrouping to boost him to the top was a position you currently occupied.

This is where the difference between if you'd had a regular business organisation and the domain you now did, settled in. You went on total offense.

You contacted T'Challa and Shuri, calling them in for a meeting. Even though the pair knew of what had happened so far, they were your partners and thus, you would discuss the actions you would take with them, even if your deal said nothing of that sort. But you knew, compared to your rival, it seemed, how important it was to hold onto your closest allies with other methods than fear and the threat of death. And thus, you also received the help of a friend rather than a business partner.

It must've been the bloodiest month in the last decade from the rivalry that blossomed up between the Felines and Canines the second you started to answer the new top dog's advances. You got reports that the shadow panthers watching your back had cleared more people putting you up as a target than in a long time. As well, did more of the people under your name end up red in back allies.

Then it shifted. As soon as you started getting trails of more people than just the executioners, you were suddenly able to take out divisions of his minions. And while the killing went on, you started winning the big battles. In other words, while Steven continued to play it hard, you started to play smart.

You cut off deals he could do in Brooklyn, much harsher and unforgiving than his initials ones on your side of the East River. It was everything from supplies, to money, to the extra set of eyes. Everything to limit him to sources you knew he wouldn't be happy with having to resort to. While handling this, with the help from Shuri, you also broadened your search to find every little dirty-worker under the mob boss's command. Thanks to those now operating for you on the Brooklyn side, you helped people who'd had a past with Steven's men tip police of and capture them.

Pawn by pawn, you lessened the number of ways the Canine boss could run in taking down your empire. You had him cornered, already several moves ahead of him whatever he chose to do. Only, it was one step you thought he never would do that, in the end, made everything come to a skidding halt.

He'd requested a parley.

"Y'know I don't really like the idea of you meeting him", you didn't look up from the papers you currently were reading to look at Shuri where she lounged on your office's couch.

Though it felt like you should examine the folder that rested in your handbag     -the one containing the event plans for the charity event you would host for the many high society individuals and governors, or anyone with money really, in two weeks- those documents weren't the ones you were looking through now.

It was five days ago since Steven had asked for the parlay. Ever since then, you'd worked on the deal you would offer him. You had no desire to sign whatever he would hand to you. And you knew he would propose something. The Canine boss was the challenger, after all. Even more so, the one requesting a meeting from the start. Thus, he, for one, would offer something to cease your continuous confrontations and two, he would try to drag you down while elevating himself. That you couldn't have.

"I know", you finally responded when having read the side you were on in the contract you had put together for your rival. "Still, I want to hear what the man has to say so I can stop losing resources, time and people", you turned to the next page as you said this.

There came no response immediately despite that you felt Shuri was looking at you. You'd gotten good at noticing this, someone observing you. Hence, even though the best of the panthers always were safeguarding you somewhere in the crowds, it never hurt to not solely depend on others for your own safety. Because that was what your constantly high attentiveness was for anyways. To always be keen on your surroundings and try to detect someone's move before they did it.

"It's almost interesting to see someone challenge you for the position of being the big boss, Lekati", it wasn't only at the reserved nickname Shuri used that caught your attention. The rest of what she'd said also made you pause mid-turn of the last page, eyes automatically shifting to her.

Now, instead of sprawling across the piece of furniture the women occupied, she sat upright with a smile ghosting her lips. Your eyes narrowed as you noted this.

"Oh, stop imagining using your sharp claws on me".

"I wasn't".

"You're a bad liar when you want to be", the tech mogul pointed out with a finger directed towards you. Your features stayed indifferent despite the fact that her remark had been correct.

"When will your brother be back?" The dark-haired women cocked a brow at your sudden change of topic.

"Any minute, I suppose, why?"

"He's more pleasant to have around while I try to work, less chatty", an incredulous snort left Shuri as she crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch's backside. Her reaction made your stoic facade drop somewhat, causing the side of your mouth to tug upwards. It was an act she caught and couldn't help but shake her head at.

"I never get tired of not knowing whether you're about to send half of the city after me or simply are in a playing mood", your repressed smile bloomed into a fully-fledged one, amused by Shuri's comment.

"Opt for the latter for as long as those couple of hundred thousand dollars are rolling into your account". Averting your eyes from the women you were speaking to, you once again inspected the bunch of papers before you. 

Having worked on them for days and ever since this morning re-reading the contract, you knew it was worded to perfection. There were no loopholes nor any unnecessary losses for either part. So, for as long as Steven didn't belong to the old saying of 'it’s hard to learn an old dog to sit', you knew his signature would decorate the last page. 

"However, you should worry about the day when the money is missing", you hummed while stacking the papers orderly, putting them back into the same folder they'd been stored since you'd gotten the paper copies of the transcript.

"Would that be my sign to start running?" You looked up again, instantly meeting Shuri's humoured look.

"It would probably be too late", you shrugged nonchalantly, placing the folder you would have to the meeting in your handbag in a swift motion while swivelling your chair to face her, rather than your desk as you'd done previously. As a chuckle was heard from the dark-haired woman, you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your seat.

"It's good that I'm your ally and not your foe".

"Good to hear you view yourself as a friend. Was fearing you would switch sides to my challenger's", you mused, arms coming to prop up against your armrest to support your head when you tilted it.

"I never would, even if I knew he had a chance to win", even though feeling somewhat relieved - because this world and one's alliances could change fast, no matter current contracts or friendships- when Shuri said this, you wouldn't show it. Therefore, instead of smiling at her belief that Steven had no chance of beating you at a game you had been the best player at for years, you simply kept observing the woman as she stood from the couch.

The young tech mogul started to make her way closer to you, a slight sheerness in her step that impersonated the glint in her eye. And you understood why for when she opened her mouth to speak.

"But you can't deny it's interesting someone is seriously trying to take you down", you rolled your eyes while you let your hand fall to tap against your thigh.

"Seems like you're more excited about it than me", you started, spinning your chair slowly to follow Shuri as she settled partly on the empty edge of your desk. She looked expectantly at you, waiting for an answer despite your deflection of it initially. For once, purely because of the topic, you complied. "But no, I definitely do not find it interesting", you sighed out.

"Oh, come on, Lekati...".

"Stop with the nickname", you cut her off with a roll of your eyes. However, instead of earning the quick nod of confirmation to follow your exasperated order, the dark-haired women grinned. Perhaps if it was anyone else than Shuri, you would've been irritated and sent them out of your office, but concerning you viewed her more as a friend than a simple job partner, you did neither when her teasing continued.

"Has the dog really gotten that much under your skin?" She chuckled. "Must be the first one... ever. Or correct me if I'm wrong?" You simply dropped your head and shook it. The young women were right and she knew she was. Steven was the sole one able to make you nearly lose your footing ever since claiming the crown of the underworld.

"Why couldn't he just stay put?" You mumbled under your breath, thumb smoothing out the wrinkles having settled between your brows. "We'd never heard of him before. Why decide to make himself known now all of a sudden? After years of silence?"

"Some men seek the satisfaction of bringing entities down, especially if they ruled it before and now it's overtaken by a woman", you looked up at Shuri. But instead of meeting her gaze, your eyes fell to the piece of paper she held up. Evidently, she'd plucked your Cartier pen and a sticky note from the stack always resting on your desk and written three letters on the piece of paper while you spoke. You, it stood on it.

"Thank you for the flattery", you replied, reaching forward to snatch the note from her. "But I would've prefered if Rogers hadn't, would spare me the task of crushing his ego", the brown-eyed women chuckled at that.

"Maybe he needs to take yours down a step or two too", you stood from your chair as she said this, dropping the slightly crumpled note you'd taken from her into the bin under your desk, then starting to head towards the mirror you had in your office.

"I don't have an ego. I simply know my self-worth".

"Sounds a lot like you're bordering on narcissism", she said in a sing-song voice. "Maybe you and his pride can go on a date. I bet they would rule New York happily ever after", you couldn't suppress a chuckle at Shuri's words, whether you wanted to show how absolutely hilariously unbelievable it was or not.

"Can't your brother come and save me from your antics?" You muttered, spotting the smile the genius behind you sported in the mirror. It was meant for her to hear, so you weren't shocked when she responded to the banter.

"I actually prefer his absence. The two of you together nearly drown me in the seriousness", Shuri complained dramatically. You amusedly rolled your eyes before settling to look at your chosen attire.

Compared to how far away you stood from tradition in the godfather's senses, it was one custom you fulfilled like the rest of them. You believed that the clothes made the man. And, for a meeting like the one you soon would go to, you didn't hesitate to strive for that effect.

You knew Steven was old fashioned. Everything he did cried it. So, of course, you would try to throw him off at every point you could. The skirt and dress were switched out for a suit, midnight black. It was a loose fit and probably matched the high-end fashion more than traditional meeting standards, but you didn't genuinely worry. You were here to show you are the new generation and wouldn't budge because you were the sole women in New York running a syndicate. Doing the best job at it as well.

However, if the man you would meet would frown upon women in a suit, the lace bodysuit, black as well, you wore instead of a dress shirt would probably give him a heart attack. It covered enough but were in no way domesticated and left the upper part of your chest bare. It was a great way to show off the two thin chains of gold decorating your neck.

For some reason, your eyes lingered on the golden metal shining from the light trickling into your office. You started to fiddle with the necklace then, concentrating on how they weren't cold but rather heated up from your body temperature.

You became lost in your own world, fingers splaying over the hollow in your throat to absentmindedly play with the chains there while you thought about the meeting that was rapidly coming closer.

The action, together with the far-away look you stared at your movement in the mirror, was something that caught Shuri's attention.

"Relax", instantly your eyes flickered up to watch her in the mirror's reflective surface as if snapped from a daze. She'd shifted, so she now sat on the front of your desk, head turned in your direction. "It'll go good".

"Wasn't it you who said that you didn't want me to meet him in the first place?" You began to challenge her words of reassurance, hand falling from your skin to instead hang by your side. Not until you'd turned and cocked your brow at her did you continue. "That must insinuate you don't think it will go good", she simply shrugged when you said this.

"I did say I don't like his sudden call for a conference and that you accepted it in the first place", she began, crossing her feet at the ankle and looking down at the movement momentarily before her gaze found yours once more. "But that doesn't mean I don't think it will go good. I know it will. You're good at your job", you smiled at that. You already knew that you worked great under pressure, or else you wouldn't be standing on top of the empire you ruled. Although, it was always comforting to hear it from someone else.

Fittingly, in the next second, a knock on your door echoed in the room, effectively putting an end to your previous conversation with the women perched on your desk.

"Enter", you called without hesitating, as soon as both your and Shuri's attention also turned to the entrance. The guard stationed outside of your room didn't need to inform you of who'd wanted to enter. You already knew it was T'Challa. And as the guard opened the heavy door to your office and held it open for whoever had requested it, indeed it was Shuri's brother stepping through the doorway.

You didn't more than slightly tip your head to acknowledge the guard's nod of respect your way before he closed the door. Primarily because you spotted the slate grey folder the older of the children of T'Chaka held. It was the call about the seemingly insignificant object being completed that had interrupted the earlier discussion you, Shuri and T'Challa had. Your assemblage hadn't been much more than some minor last discussions and to wait for the folder the man now walking through the room held. Thus the portfolio contained a report, the ultimate attempt of finding anything that could aid you in the meeting with Steven.

"Anything good?" You skipped the unnecessary greetings as you gestured to the portfolio in T'Challa's hand while walking closer to your desk, which also was where he was heading.

"Look for yourself", when he said this, the brown-eyed mad held out the folder for you to take. You did but didn't open it until you'd rounded the counter and sat down in your chair again.

You didn't know what you'd expected to meet you, but a photo and a single sheet of paper weren't it.

For a moment, you stared at the picture resting on top of the report underneath it. Presumably, it should've been a photo of Steven sitting in some club. Although it was blurry and had no great exposure, which made it impossible to tell much about his appearance. Still, you knew it was him or else the picture wouldn't be here. However, it did nothing to help you paint a picture of the man which name so far seemed to be faceless.

Putting the picture to the side, you quickly started to eye the document. You scanned it, finding it contained random facts citing what properties the Canine boss had invested in, even owned. Apparently, Steven managed several clubs, which would explain why his first suggestion of a meeting place had been just that. Other than that, he owned some other businesses that wasn't much to cheer for. All infected by alcohol and drugs by the looks and names. Classical.

"This all?" You finally questioned after turning the sheet over, finding the backside blank. When glancing up, you saw T'Challa nodding. You clenched your jaw and looked back down at the paper.

Ever since Steven had asked for an official meeting, between your eyes only, as his message had been clear to state, you'd requested for the siblings to find out whatever they could about him. You wanted the advantage you knew he couldn't get over you. Thus, what was publicly known of you wasn't anything to hide. And frankly, he was more than welcome to read the articles that had written things about you. Yet, every secret of yours, or anything you'd deemed unfitting for anyone to know, had been wiped. No one could ever find something about you that you didn't want on the internet. Though, it seemed you weren't the only one sitting on resources like that.

Albeit the "new mob boss" was discussed in several articles, Steven's name had no face in any of them. In general, there was no picture of him or much information to track him down by either. So, despite your best efforts, now it seemed you didn't have much more than your hunch to go on during the meeting.

"I do not think it's wise to meet him", T'Challa said, much like his sister had earlier. With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, fingers releasing the paper you'd gripped to pinch the bridge of your nose instead.

"Neither of you wants me to meet him, do you?" At first, silence met you, which made you look up the sibling pair. They shared a glance before Shuri turned slightly to look at you and her brother crossed his arms.

"No", they said simultaneously, which made you huff.

"I may like it as little as you two, but it put a temporary pause to the conflict. And if he comes to accept my terms, maybe that will remain".

"And what if he doesn't?" T'Challa inquired, receiving a frown from his sister, while you simply tilted your head down to look at your watch. "What if he refuses to tuck tail?" He continued to push.

"He won't", you stated, rising up from your chair, handbag now in your grip. It was three minutes until your driver would be here, so you needed to start heading down to the spot he would pick you up in. Yet, you were stopped in your tracks by a hand gripping your upper arm lightly.

"But what if?"

"T'Challa!" Shuri hissed at the unrespectful way her brother insisted on having his questions answered. She'd shot up from where she up until now had remained seated but before she could drag the man staring down at you with insistent eyes away, your raised the hand of your free arm. It stopped the younger women's movement, merely making her watch you and T'Challa.

There was a reason the siblings were able to run their tech operation as smoothly as they did. They complemented each other. What one lacked, the other possessed. For example, Shuri may own the belief everything was possible, then naturally, her brother would be more cautious. As in this instance. Hence, you didn't take any great offence to the dark-haired man's action, despite that your aloof tone could imply such a thing.

"What if he doesn't accept my deal after having me listen to whatever godawful settlement he offers me? Then I've kept my promise on meeting him for the parley he requested and one, which in the end, unfortunately, didn't establish an accord. Henceforth, our war will continue", you said, instantly feeling how T'Challa's hand fell from holding you back. Yet, you didn't pursue your track to the pick up you already was late for. Not until you assured him of one last thing. 

"Let me remind you that he was the one that asked me for a meeting, not the other way around. He asked me for a temporary truce and a chance to negotiate. In the end, that shows who's the most desperate to settle an agreement, no matter the terms".

Translation:

Lekati = Kitten

[excellentexecution]

@chyna9 | Continued. 

Joanie was sitting in the bar of the hotel room. To a quick glance her appearance would've been a shock. Gone was the perpetual black attire, the monochrome. Instead she was sporting a light pink top with matching yoga pants of a brighter shade.

That in itself was a vivid indicator that this was Joanie and not Chyna as the world had solely come to see her as.

After the eventful night, she just felt she needed to get away from prying eyes, to be herself.

She had hurt the family of the man she loved.

For the umpteenth time.

Lost in her thoughts with a simple fruit punch, the world had become a blur for her. They had scheduled a meeting, using their Pagers.

But still the words surprised her when they hit her eardrums as she felt the jacket ensconce her. The warm hands that came around taking her in a protective embrace.

Joanie was a woman that didn't need anyone's protection and she took pride in that. Hell, she was the one protecting others. But there were exceptions.

This was an exception.

A soft, content sigh escaped he lips. The guilt, the woes forgotten. Suddenly she felt at peace.

Slowly she turned to the side, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

"Will you? Please?" She asked in a soft tone, her hand had come to rest over his in a gentle touch.

Owen was the worst out of them all. Every knight of the Foundation brotherhood in some sort of trouble, crimson streaks across the skin and purple underneath the eyes. They were each soldiers covered with their share of scars. Bloodied hairlines that didn’t seem to know when to quit pouring out, blonde gashed open with gentle grunts on the tongue, strands split wide. Curses and more against the music of the television screen that played in the background - factions were taking the war farther than Bret ever imagined they would. Constant assaults on one another had started to take their toll on everyone. A palindrome that echoed with each new clash of steel chairs or barricade slammed into: not an ounce of change. Future and the past all the same no matter what happened, the Federation torn to pieces, it was hard for the Hitman to bare as he went about putting his littlest brother back together. Pressed ice filled plastic bags to the Rocket’s face despite the silly excuse for protest, cleaned Dave’s and the Anvil’s mangled features, too. Settled the raging sea that swirled around within the darkness of the Loose Cannon’s lost mind, though he was in far better condition than the rest from the group, Bret wouldn’t stand to have him turn out any different within the span of the last few hours. Least not in their communal hotel room. They needed their strength. All of them; they needed to live another day.

Jim already had begun the process when the pager on Bret’s person beeped, the shift of the primary guard while on top of one of the beds. Pushed away curled locks as to expose the side of the head, the British Bulldog second in command with his instruments of medical care: bandaids and gauzes. A singular Superkick was all it took to deal the heavy blow to Bret’s scalp. A melody of the ever enchanting Sweet Chin Music - an outside interference - victor not he but not a disqualification of the match, either. It looked worse than it was. An artificial wound, not having his hand raised in celebration hurt Bret more than Shawn’s cowboy boot heel did. Having to witness as someone else was cheered that show, that night, with his stupid Stars and Stripes flag waving in the wind, machine circulated air with all its mockery. Damn Patriot. 

It was then that the two forces found themselves in the heat of battle. HBK and his straight pointed leg toward the Excellence of Execution’s direction - twice did the pager beep. Just as Davey unrolled and peeled protective layers, swore on his soul that D Generation X would see their doom. Regardless of where any of them stood: they’re gonna pay for this. I’m gonna kill ‘em - even if Joanie was counted among the fatalities. Bret’s courageous Chyna, his beloved. His love who was somewhat accepted, tolerated and stomached. It was all the boys could do given the circumstances. What they allowed themselves to endure for their brother’s sake and happiness, Bret was beyond grateful for that much. Appreciative, before even an inch of cotton touched his forehead, he was off. Leather draped over the shoulders and covered the back, down to the bar that would be open for the next while. Dressed in sneakers with dark blue jeans and a white tee: to where Joanie was. 

A hand clapsed around her hip with the other rubbing the softness of her blush painted cheek, his thumb to her flesh, Bret submitted to a smile of his own. Mirrored Joanie as that pleasant warmness ignited his belly - cocked his head to the side and prepared for that so wanted kiss. 

He whispered, breathless almost, “come here.”