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sexedtheories · 4 years ago

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Toilet Block: A S2E1-Inspired Missing Scene

(My take on what could have been featured directly following Otis passing out at the sight of his own blood in S2E1, after accidentally taking a punch to the face and *before* Maeve magically appears back home and in bed...)

Everything was a blur following the fight in the courtyard between the girls. Otis remembers touching his face and glancing at his hand suddenly smeared with blood, before feeling the full weight of gravity pushing him backwards. What he doesn't remember is the litany of panic that ensued afterwards. When Otis finally came to, he was surprised to be met with a pair of concerned, yet familiar, brown eyes staring at him inside the boy's toilet block.

"Thank God," Maeve exhaled as she rolled back on the heels of her boots, creating a soft squeak on the tile floor.

"Maeve... Wh-What happened? And, why does my face burn?" Otis questioned as he winced at the touch of his own hand. There was a weird metallic taste on his lips that he recognized as his own blood. He could feel the cold marble edge of the toilet sink along his lower back, through his shirt.

"Well, you had the brilliant idea to step into the middle of a fight and take on Gwen's punch meant for Fiona, before fainting at the sight of your own blood,” Maeve snorted into a smile while shifting the bag hanging from her shoulder.

"Oh, right" An embarrassed and wincing Otis began to remember as he looked to the ground in an attempt to mask his his pain when blood started to drip onto the floor from his nostrils. "Oh no," he spat as he quickly tilted his head back attempting to pinch his nose gingerly to try and stop the bleeding.

"It's fine- I've got it," Maeve confirmed and reached deep into her bag pulling out two tampons. As she unwrapped one, she took a few step towards him.

"W-wait, what are you doing?" Otis whined, recoiling away from Maeve.

"Don't worry, Dickhead - I'm not going to steal your innocence, I just need to create a temporary block to stop the bleeding... Trust me," Maeve spouted confidently, but with a sincerity that Otis had missed.

Otis kept his head tilted back but slowly removed his hand to allow Maeve entry. Maeve stepped forward to examine his face under the light. She carefully positioned one hand along his jawline which made him jump slightly and scrunch up a bit at the initial, cool touch of her rings against his skin.

“Just relax, alright?” She reassured as she glanced up at him briefly, offering a small conciliatory smile. She refocused on Otis’ nose and used her free hand to insert each of the tampons, one-by-one, carefully into each nostril.

Otis half-expected to flinch in pain, and while he was still uncomfortable, he was surprised at how considerate and soft Maeve was in her approach to touch him. Otis felt his body relax as he watched her concentrate. It was then that he realized just how close she was in proximity to him - Maeve was balanced on her toes, practically leaning on him for support. He recalled the last time she was this close to him was last term in the pool. He caught a whiff of what appeared to be some kind of citrus scent coming from her Brunette hair - He wasn’t used to it or her hair yet, but he liked it. She was only a few inches shorter than he was, but it became extra noticeable when she was in close proximity to him.

“There,” She declared. Proud of her work, she took a step back letting her hands fall to her side before glancing up at him with a smirk. For a second, it seemed like there was something electric in the air.

Otis felt a slight surge of his blood and a small hitch in his knees as Maeve’s hand grazed along his jawline, something he hadn’t really felt since last term. Luckily he had attended to himself three times already earlier in the day and was seemingly “broken,” so he was relieved when he glanced down quickly to see that no erection had manifested. The jolt of moving his head that fast made him dizzy and he threw one hand behind him onto the counter to steady himself as he moved the other to his temple. Maeve caught him by the arms before he moved around too much.

“Woah, okay - Yeah, you might actually have a concussion,” Maeve laughed as she set him more upright.

“Possibly, but it could just be my blood sugar dipped too low,” Otis clarified with his eyes shut tight.

“Alright Dickhead, let’s test that theory, shall we? Look at me,” Maeve directed.

Otis blinked his eyes open before resuming to stare at Maeve. She swiped her mobile phone open to turn on the flash, shining it across Otis’ face a couple of times before turning it off and slipping it into her jacket pocket.

“Now, follow my finger,” She insisted as she waved one finger across his field of view a few times. “I think you’re going to be fine, Street Fighter,” Maeve chuckled making him smile (and wince) too. She reached back into her bag to pull out the remnants of a soft pretzel wrapped in clear plastic. “Here, you need it more than I do.” She extended it out to Otis. When Otis tried to protest she merely insisted by pushing the pretzel closer to him, which he knew meant that she wasn’t to be argued with - He followed her lead.

As he peeled back the plastic and took a bite of the pretzel closing his eyes, Maeve moved to his right side to lean her back against the sink, too. She looked at her hands and rotated her rings on her fingers in silent distraction as he chewed quietly next to her.

“You know… You should really put a passcode on your phone - Digital security isn’t a joke, Maeve,” Otis said through bites of pretzel.

Maeve looked up at him shaking her head, “Even after a knock out, you’re still annoying,” She teased.

The two of them laughed as Otis continued to eat.

“How’d you learn the trick with the tampons anyway?” Otis questioned, reopening his eyes and shifting to look over at her.

“My brother and I used to watch this stupid American film where a character does it to stop a nose bleed. We always thought it was ridiculous, until Sean got into a fight with some kids and tried it. When it actually worked, my idiot brother was convinced that Americans were all secret geniuses,” Maeve chuckled to herself.

“The Americans can have their moments,” Otis agreed. “How *is* life with your brother these days?” He enquired as he finished swallowing his last bite. Otis watched as Maeve’s face fell and she stared at the floor.

“I wouldn’t know, he- uh…” Maeve cleared her throat, “He took off after the ball,” Maeve explained quietly.

“Oh,” Otis breathed, “Maeve I’m-“

“It’s fine,” Maeve interrupted as she shook her head and sighed. “Blood sugar’s back, I see,” Maeve gestured to the now empty plastic in Otis’ hand.

“Yeah, thanks for this - I didn’t expect Pretzel Parlor employees to be so accommodating,” Otis glared jokingly. He had known that Maeve had gotten a job there shortly after him and Ola had gotten together, because Eric had seen her working one day, but Otis never felt right to visit her. It was her domain, and he knew better than to encroach on someone’s space.

She nudged him in response. “Ex-employee,” Maeve clarified, “I quit this morning - Looks like you’ll have to find someone else to deliver left overs,” She laughed. He smiled.

Suddenly the announcement bell chimed as Otis and Maeve looked up simultaneously. The voice of Mr. Groff’s secretary echoed around the toilet block. “Otis Milburn please report to Mr. Groff’s office, Otis Milburn please report to Mr. Groff’s office, thank you.”

Otis’ face fell as he was rushed back to reality. “I should-“ Otis started and gestured towards the bell.

“Yeah, me too. Visiting hours are over.” Maeve confirmed as she began to walk forward towards the door. “See ya ‘round, Otis.”

“Bye Maeve,” was all Otis could get out before the door was swinging closed and he was left alone.

#sex education netflix #netflix sex education #Sex education #maeve x otis #maeve wiley #otis x maeve #otis milburn #motis #maevis #otis and maeve #Maeve and otis

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gumnut-logic · 5 years ago

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Who do you save, John? (Bit 6)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5a | Bit 5b | Bit 6

It is so nice to be able to just sit and write without having to rush off to work ::sighs contentedly:: Having said that, man, this fic is tense. I don’t need caffeine, writing this has me strung tighter than a bow. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Blood (but nothing major)

For @5hadow-alpha cos they wanted Shopping and a Tracy brother. You got more than one, and I got more than I expected. Fic isn’t quite out of control, but wow, it is going places I did not expect in the process.

-o-o-o-

Alan’s arm hurt like hell.

But he wasn’t paying it any attention.

At some point Gordon had edged just a little closer, just enough to brush up against his hand. It was a simple reassurance and Alan could appreciate it.

But Alan’s attention was caught between Virgil and John.

Dad was holding his stricken brother like a child.

Alan could hear each struggling breath from here. There was too much blood on the carpet.

Far too much.

He itched to help Virgil. To save him.

But he couldn’t.

Time was slipping through the blood drying on his fingers.

It made him want to scream.

He couldn’t even do that.

So, he turned his attention to John.

His space brother stood ramrod straight in the middle of the room attempting to blast their assailant with his eyes.

John had always been the quiet one, the odd one out of their five. Sure, Virgil had his own brand of quiet, but John’s was as solitary as the stars he chased.

Alan had always admired him. Despite being different from the rest of the family, John never apologised for it. Alan suspected that somewhere in their eleven year age gap, something had happened to his star brother that had wrought the steel under that facade. Perhaps forced him to accept himself the way he was and leverage the advantages.

In any case, John was John and Alan loved him for it.

The fact they were both technically geniuses didn’t hurt either. They shared smarts at least. But while John sought energy from solitude, Alan was much more energised by people. He could operate alone, but he preferred to be with others.

And he loved being with John.

Okay, it was hero worship. Just a little. He had to admit it. After all, John lived where Alan wanted to explore. John knew so much and they could speak space for hours.

And had many times when Alan was little, laid out on the grass in their backyard, staring up at a clear night.

John may have preferred to be alone, but he always had time for Alan. Now, as an adult, Alan could appreciate that gift his brother had given him so many times, so much more.

“John.” Scott was vibrating in his corner, eyes darting between Virgil and John even more than Alan’s. “I think-“

“Nobody cares what you think, Commander. You’re not in charge here.”

“Timothy, or whatever the hell your name is, this has gone far enough.”

The gunman arched an eyebrow at Alan’s father. “So, you think you’re in charge, too. Honestly, do you idiots even realise the power your brother has?” His eyes latched onto Alan’s father. “How you’ve gifted him the ability to play god? Neither of you are in charge. So, shut up or I’ll shoot the both of you.”

“But that would ruin your test, wouldn’t it?” John’s voice was ice calm and just as cold.

Timothy turned back to Alan’s space brother. “Maybe you are as smart as they say you are, Voiceman.” A glare. “Now choose.”

John’s eyes flicked around the room, catching each of his brother’s and his father’s.

A groan from Virgil. “No…” And the engineer was attempting to sit up.

“Virgil, stay still!” The words fell sharply from Alan’s lips and were backed up by the rest of his family as their father tried to hold him back.

“Oh, for the love of-! Don’t any of you know how to shut up?!” Timothy took several steps closer to Alan’s fallen brother. The gun pointed directly at Virgil. Painfilled eyes stared up at the man. Timothy’s finger twitched. Alan opened his mouth to scream.

On the far side of the room, John’s tablet, put aside while he changed clothes, let off a chime. “John, are you dressed yet? Can I see?”

Eos.

Alan’s heart lurched as John didn’t hesitate. “Eos! You are the Dawn!” His space brother knocked the gun aside and the whole room jumped as it went off, digging a hole in the floor beside Virgil’s foot.

The tablet pinged acknowledgement.

Timothy whipped around and grabbed John. John was taller, but Timothy obviously had strength and training and before Gordon or Scott could take more than one step forward, John’s arm was wrenched behind his back, bending him awkwardly, and the gun shoved at his throat.

“What did you do?!”

A brief flicker of pain passed over John’s face before that familiar calm settled again. “What I always do – what has to be done.” He groaned as Timothy yanked harder on his arm and with one shot, narrowly missing Gordon, destroyed John’s tablet with a bullet.

“John…” Virgil’s voice was whisper quiet and ending in another groan.

“Virgil!” His father admonished the prone engineer, but Virgil was inconsolable, struggling against his hold.

Timothy ignored them, jamming the gun so deep into John’s throat, the astronaut choked. “Choose, you asshole! Who lives and who dies, or this building comes down on all of us now!”

-o-o-o-

“Eos! You are the Dawn!”

The words hit her hard.

Emergency level threat.

John and/or his family members were in danger and in need of her assistance.

Her response was immediate.

She flooded the building’s digital infrastructure with herself, clawing through the optical cables seeking as much information as she could gather.

John’s tablet gave her a little, but its signal died almost immediately. Its camera was useless, but its microphone gave her just enough to hear her father’s voice before it cut out.

Her father was in pain.

A tendril shot out across the other side of the world and alerted Kayo.

The security officer swore, dropping her suspect as Eos pulled a sitrep from the scene.

Communications within the suit shop had been manually severed and cloaked. Her assessment earlier had been passive. Now active and aware of the issue she was able to dig beneath the benign code to find programs running that were absolutely not.

Why had John forbidden her from prying?

An alert was sent to Lady Penelope’s residence. A full status feed churning through the connection.

Eos’ electric fingers sliced through alien code and disrupted it, triggering an alert to IR security.

Kayo was already alerting Gerald, chief officer on site. IR security moved.

Except for one.

Eos’ eyes were everywhere. Lightning fast she pinpointed each member of the team as each responded to Gerald’s update and command to report.

The man outside the door. The man trusted to stand guard on the Tracys. His vitals reported elevated heartrate and he was refusing to acknowledge commands.

Thunderbird S was nearing a redline as the craft tore across the Atlantic.

FAB1 was airborne, Parker swearing colourfully.

And still the security officer did not respond.

She infiltrated his comms, pulling recordings. She pulled video from cameras. Faster than any human, she pulled his history, his recent activity, his recent movements.

She watched him meet with one of the tailors’ assistants two weeks earlier. There was no recording of conversation, but there was a data trail.

She tore through the assistant’s personal computing devices.

The protection written into his files was professional and a challenge. He wasn’t any kind of assistant at all.

While simultaneously gathering information from the disabled security system, updating Kayo and Penelope, and burrowing through electrical infrastructure desperate to find a connection of any kind with John or any of his brothers, she identified Timothy Wilson, ex-marine, millionaire as the ‘tailors’ assistant’ who had spoken to Anthony of IR security two weeks earlier and passed on a computer program and what was likely a plan that resulted in the blackout of communications she was currently battling.

The camera in the foyer focussed sharply on the man whose heart was now redlining almost as much as Thunderbird S’ engines.

Spread across so many systems, multitasking with the sole aim to locate and secure her father, she stared down at this man who had obviously betrayed him.

Kayo was yelling at her as she crossed the coastline of England.

But Eos was the Dawn.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Eos #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Jeff Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

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confusedpozole · 4 years ago

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I’m so tempted to write a fic rewriting the entirety of the Death Note series fixing it’s mistakes it’s not even funny...I might do it, like, I might ACTUALLY do it. It annoys me how much better it could’ve been if some things were changed. -The show doesn’t work without L because he’s the only character that I’m emotionally invested in that I don’t hate...which should tell you there’s a problem there. I would love to flesh out all the characters better so that there’s someone else I can actually latch onto if he dies (Which he wouldn’t in my version). Nothing wrong with having a story who’s center is a single character (or two in this case), but then YOU CAN’T FUCKING KILL THE ONLY ONE OF THE TWO THAT YOU’RE ROOTING FOR!!??? Like...the best part of Death Note was watching the intellectual battle between them, because they’re both geniuses but more importantly because they’re both interesting characters. So now that L is gone and the only other character that I find interesting is so hatable by design...well then who the fuck am I rooting for?? -Misa had a lot of potential as a character and deserved better. There’s hints in the story of what Misa could’ve been if the writer hadn’t literally added her in because “Oh shit there’s no women? ooh uuuh...okay hot blonde I CHOOSE YOU!”. Read any Death Note fanfic with Misa on it and I can assure you those versions of her are way better than the one in the show. She was literally only there as a tool for the plot and for Light. -I kept watching after episode 25 because by this point, I only really cared about seeing Light get caught, to get some satisfaction, and when he was finally caught...It felt unearned and not very cathartic at all, you know why? L had to catch him for it to be satisfying. They replaced L with characters who’s sole identity was that they were an extension of L. Neither of them feel like their own person, Near is just straight up the same design as L but smaller and with curly, white hair. If L was gonna be replaced (Which is a bad idea to begin with but let’s just go with it), then it had to be with someone who was a new and interesting character we could get attached to, not another version of L but with less humanity. So now, we have no L AND no new characters with their own story...just something in between that doesn’t work.

Furthermore, the only reason N was able to catch Light was because he had many advantages over L, like a better team who wasn’t constantly doubting him and who were specialized in catching Kira, and not having to simultaneously try to avoid being killed by Light, because Light didn’t know Near even existed. EVEN THEN, it took N FOUR YEARS to reach the conclusion that the rule of the 13 days was false, something L figured out almost as soon as he found out about the Death Note. N won because he had an advantage over Light, whilst if L had won it would’ve been a lot more satisfying because, since he was at a disadvantage, he would’ve had to win with his intellect alone. There would’ve been no way for anyone to question wether L deserved that victory. You also can’t erase a rivalry built in 25 episodes by trying to replicate that same dynamic in the last 11 episodes. Even if they had done Near and Mello better, it would’ve still been extremely difficult to somehow surpass or even match L and Light’s rivalry. The writers put themselves at a disadvantage by doing that.

-I would’ve dived deeper into L’s backstory. I got very excited when we got to episode 25 and we started by looking at the place L had grown up in, and hearing the bells. L asking about them later on only excited me more because I thought “Finally!! We’re gonna learn more about L’s past, and see the way it still affects him to this day! That’s why he’s hearing the bells, he’s remembering.” But uuuuh nope! That’s it...we’re done exploring that. Wanna know about L’s past? Wanna have more empathy built for him by learning about his traumas? About why he is the way he is and why he chose that job? Well fuck you, he’s gonna die actually, and we’re never gonna mention his past again. -I would’ve kept the Matsuda from before L died...like, he was kinda dumb but also sweet and cared about the people he was helping, and he did his best to help too, to not feel useless. He was endearing, but Idk what the fuck happened after episode 25, but I actually started agreeing with L about the fact that he’s such an idiot. I feel like he became a watered down version of Misa in the sense that he was just SOOO ANNOYING! BRO PEOPLE ARE DYING STOP MAKING YOUR INAPPROPRIATE COMMENTS THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR!!!

-I would’ve dived deeper into the themes of Death Note...I feel like a lot of the complex themes were sacrificed for the sake of the intellectual battle between L and Light, which is entertaining, but you can have that while also exploring those themes. It didn’t have to be one or the other.

So yeah...this is my rant. I was thinking of uploading a video to youtube explaining all of this, I might still do it just to dive deeper xD who knows. I really loved Death Note, alright? Don’t come at my throat guys, it’s precisely because I really like it that It frustrates me that it could’ve been a lot better had they done some stuff differently. But I still love Death Note and will probably watch it again at some point, and still enjoy it.

#death note #L deserved better #fanfic #ryuzaki #light yagami #Near and Mello #misa deserved better #this had so much potential

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vriska · 5 years ago

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people who see rose and kanaya as the classy ladies of the sessions kill me, like have you never read the banter between the two during act 5? these two are both simultaneously geniuses and utter idiots and i love them

they had such good banter bc back then hussie had no intention of making them a couple but once romance got involved they just... got so bland, he wanted to give the fandom what they wanted but frankly he aint good at writing romance

#Anon #Ask

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skaashis · 5 years ago

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hunger.

➤ you are miya osamu

wc: 2.7k

warnings: food, op is hungry, miya osamu centric, manga & anime spoilers

note: I'm 1-2 days late to the funeral/party but pls accept this really short miya osamu character study (kind of. barely. There was hardly any studying as i’ve allowed the spirit of writing take hold of my hands for a solid two hours.) as my elegy/offering to haikyuu season 4’s finale and the 40 tabs of poetry & fics that crashed on me earlier this evening.

You are Miya Osamu, seven years old, and eating in the new ramen restaurant that just opened up for dinner. The place was apparently highly-anticipated as it’s apparently the first Hyogo Branch for an infamous ramen chain that's apparently rated with two Michelin stars. The interior is traditional and neat. The walls, floor, and furniture are of finished wood in varying shades. The staff look old, the chefs look older. You, Atsumu, Pa, and Ma are seated with menus and gurgling stomachs, and walk out with takeout. Hands chained together, you all walk towards the parking lot and Ma lets out a squeal of satisfaction saying, “that was real good wasn't it, Atsumu, Osamu?”

Atsumu being the dimwit brat he is, nods viciously as if his eyes aren't already drooping as a sign of an incoming food coma. He proceeds to say he’s reaaaaaaaal full! And how he really liked how soft the noodles were and how rich the broth was and how soft the noodles were. Ma hums in a smile then looks down to face you, asking you for your own opinion. You only shrug and say, “I’m full. Just not satisfied”

Ma looks at you, mortified. Pa guffaws his lungs out and manages to wheeze out how you better be thankful that you’re out of the restaurant's vicinity for you might have gotten your first lawsuit at seven! You don't completely understand what he means but knows it's something bad. In the car ride back home, you stare out the window and wonder why.

You are Miya Osamu and think that Aran Ojiro is hella cool. He’s got a hella cool name, hella cool physique, and hella cool lunch he brings to school one day. They’re pancakes. Not really the ideal lunch meal, but hella cool either way because they’re nop ordinary pancakes. They’re corn pancakes, except, as Tsumu (his new name that you both proclaimed post-meeting Aran-kun) says after taking a bite, there’s no corn in it. It just tastes like corn. You pull out your own plastic chopsticks from your bento to take a taste as Aran explains. He says there’s something his mom puts that called ‘cornmeal’. Before you could take a piece, Aran halts you and shuffles for something in his lunchbag, only to pull out a mini tupperware of freshly chopped green onions. With glimmering eyes, he recommends that you try it out with the green onions garnished above before you take a bite. You nod, take his advice, and your mouth explodes with colors. It’s beyond sweet or savory or spicy or umami. Pancakes have always been either flat or fluffy alone, never so interesting and flavorful until now.

Ma picks you and Tsumu up later that day and you ask her to buy some cornmeal and extra green onions the next time she goes to the market to buy groceries.

You are Miya Osamu and it's New Year’s. You’re also yelling at Tsumu too keep it up, who in return, is also yelling at you to keep it up. Ojiisan is chortling in endearment, Obaasan is cackling her lungs out. When the Mochi is finally done, you and Tsumu exchange glares with your arms folded in a huff. Tsumu mutters how you, Samu, is so stupid and dumb and slow, when you know for a fact that HE’s the one who’s stupid and dumb and slow. Obaasan, being the ever observant granny she is, hitches a brow teasingly and asks if her precious grandsons have changed their precious names into something else. You and (a)Tsumu splutter up a string of apologies and excuses, only for her to cackle once again, this time simultaneously hitting you both on the back as she does so. Ojiisan is the one to tell your Obaasan to calm down now as he distributes the mochi.

Obaasan smiles with the softening of her eyes after taking a bite of the mochi and says it's good. Both your and (a)Tsumu’s hearts swell in pride. She then smiles with her dentures flashed in a wide, cheshire grin, adding how it could’ve used a little more oomph! She says it’s good because food is always good when you’re happy. And you’re happy when you make decisions for yourselves. And when you’re making decisions for yourself, you’re supposed to make a decision that you think will make you happy. You and Tsumu nod while reaching out for your own mochi and she’s right, it’s too soft.

But you think, huh. It does taste a lot better.

You are Miya Osamu and firmly believe your brother is a curse. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. You’re the curse. Ma never told you who’s older or younger, and probably (likely.) (definitely.) for the best. Though, you’re also one half of the newly infamous Miya Twins™ (synonymous with: chaos incarnate) who have recently shaken the ground of the volleyball world. The other half of the Miya Twins™ is Atsumu, who puked in the bus before the first game in your first nationals that no one, everyone, would have expected you’d win. Of course, you only reach the semi-finals, but that alone is a feat in itself. Still, on the bus ride back to Hyogo, while your eyes aren’t swelling with tears anymore, they’re mapped with veins and your heart’s the one doing the swelling, but with distraught and a promise to give it your all until the very end as one half of the Miya Twins™.

You are Miya Osamu and the team that stands before you across the net is Karasuno. Whom no one, everyone, would have expected would come this far. They’re an amalgamation of rookies, geniuses, and straight up monsters. They’re an odd bunch but so is your team. You’re both standing in the court, in Tokyo, match being ingrained into the minds of every person watching whether live or through National Television that'll either last forever for them to talk to their grandkids about or just fleet away the next day. Either way, the memory of such alone is proof that they’ve come this far. So are the jerseys being drenched in sweat, bruises blooming on their forearms, and the muscles being more and more conditioned as each three centimeters of a second passes by.

“Hey ‘samu? I’m startin’ to feel hungry.”

“Me too, ‘tsumu.”

You are Miya Osamu, scarfing down on the third best gyudon you’ve had in your life. It’s served in the Tokyo branch of a well known gyudon chain and only the third best ‘cuz Ma’s is and will always be the best, and yours will be the second best because you’re seventeen and self-proclaimed one hell of a home cook. It’s third best probably because of the garnish or the beef’s quality or how well-cooked the rice is. Or the fact that you’re eating it right after a loss. Food is always better when it's used as comfort or a coping mechanism. If it’s decent and you’re feeling like shit, your brain always registers it as the best thing in the world for at least the next few days. But you’re smarter than Gin who’s ordering his third bowl because it's the best gyudon he’s ever had in his life. But also, food is always better when you’re happy, when you make a decision for yourself that you deem would make you happy. You’re not happy, but you’ve decided that you’re gonna be the junior Kita-san’s forever gonna brag about.

You are Miya Osamu and practice the next day is grueling. Even fiercer and vicious than the already fierce and vicious practices your body had been accustomed to pre-nationals. Not completely by coach’s order, rather by the hunger born as an aftermath from yesterday's events. It’s also a water break. The mere three minutes your body is given to repair its own muscles before another set of serves. Riseki mentions how yesterday, Kita went on another one of his strange speeches in the midst of the match. He reiterates how Kita believed everyone on court were monsters and all, that's really the bare minimum Riseki’s pea brain, in comparison to Kita-san’s argentinosaurus of a brain, was able to absorb. You nod and hum in acknowledgement, after all, you thought the same too at one point of the match. But now-

Your gaze shifts over to ‘tsumu who’s across the gym and trying to create a heimlich by punching his chest. God knows what he’s choked himself up on again this time.

-your face twists into nonchalance. Even from the other side of the gym, you feel tsumu giving you the stink eye as Aran’s obligatorily assisting him. It's probably the twin senses. The guy’s no monster. Even if he was, monsters are supposed to be terrifying. Like the ones scaring you from under your bed. Or crawling up from a well and out of the TV screen. Or dipping fingers along with a french fry into a ramekin of ketchup in a team outing, like what Tsumu doe— Ah.

(Later that night, he does it again. He’s no monster, just a stupid fuckin idiot.)

(A disgrace to humanity.)

You are Miya Osamu, it’s the week after the last Spring High National Tournament, 1AM, and you should be asleep. Instead, you’re googling: what the fuck do retired athletes do when they’re retired. Your back isn’t aching and you dont smell funny yet, but you’re a teenager and tired and your brain whirrs in the strangest of times. The search results are blurry as like does a black hole, sleep succumbs and swallows you into itself.

You are Miya Osamu, holding your brother in a headlock. The catalyst to the impromptu wrestling match in the gym was you admitting to Atsumu that you’re no longer playing volleyball after highschool. Some delusional part of yourself hoped for some kind of peaceful talk. Y’know, with puffy gowns and smiles and chamomile tea. But Tsumu’s childish and you’re apparently a FUCKIN’ [REDACTED] [REDACTED] HORSE-CRAP-LOOKIN’ [REDACTED] BITCHASS [REDACTED] [REDACTED] SHITTY SCRUB. As per usual, you throw each other, yells (Communication between the Miya Twins™ was either inarticulate yelling or twin telepathy alone and nothing in between.), and punches around. There’s no real winner or loser in your quarrels as either Ma’, the coach, or Kita-san is always quick to end it. This time, when Tsumu yells at you that when you’re in your deathbeds, he’s gonna say that lived a happier life, you grin fierce, proud, in pain, and attempt to keep tears from streaming down your eyes. There’s no winner or loser to this fight as it doesn’t, and will never end until you’re on your deathbeds trying to deem who lived a happier life.

You are Miya Osamu, sweating profoundly, and the touch of the ball your brother set to you barely quarter a second ago is faint. The Twin Quick Attack, Minus Tempo. He gives you a look that says “are ya still thinkin’ about quittin’?” You slam the ball down along with returning a look that says “fuck yeah.” The ball creates a deafening echo as it ricochets off the ground. 2014 Spring High National Tournament: Inarizaki High School vs Karasuno High School (2:1)

You are Miya Osamu, swearing you’re about to go blind because of the continuous flashes of cameras being sent your way in your graduation. Ma’ and Pa’ are in tears, so are a few of your classmates and teammates and juniors. Some people say that they wished highschool would never end but that’s a load of bullshit. Highschool sucked. Calculus sucked. Everyone many Some people sucked. ‘Tsumu definitely sucked. Playing volleyball— didn’t suck. It never sucked.

You are Miya Osamu and adult-ing sucks. Taxes, landlords, income— Never have been fond of economics and likely never will. They said that when you become an adult, you’re finally gonna be thrusted into the world of freedom and happiness. Freedom is for everyone, children and adults alike. Happiness on the other hand, is temporary and reserved for times like a good lunch, and only permanent for people swimming in bills and coins and gucci. You? You’re just some guy making equilateral riceballs for a living. The food industry is always a gamble. To make a name for yourself, you’ve gotta keep thriving. To keep thriving you require consistency in improvement. That means more branches, more flavors, and more investment while making sure the quality never drops. It's difficult and mentally taxing. It also makes the whirring of the ceiling fan seem louder than it should be, making you feel smaller, more alone, than you should feel. You take another piece of manchego and narrow your eyes into the list of potential new flavors you could sell. A high-pitched DING! from your phone causes you to lose the staring contest you’ve had with the sheet of paper in front of you.

From: Kita-san

I’ve prepared the rice for pickup. See you tomorrow, Osamu.

You grin at the notification and text him a quick thanks. You stand up and flip the paper around in order to get read for bed. Something tells you you’ll figure it out somehow and soon.

(you do. Spicy pickled cucumber onigiri is fresh and a well selling item in Onigiri Miya the moment its introduced.)

You are Miya Osamu and firmly believe your brother is a menace, but also a nuisance. Yet here he is, likely (definitely) unaware of the splatter of soy sauce his cheek is smushed upon that you weren’t able to clean up from the former customer as he’s too immersed in his own personal venting. He’s whining on and on about how he can’t seem to perfect this new special serve he’s been working on for a while now. You’re familiar with this co called “special” serve he’s trying to pull off as it’s been the only thing he’s been texting you daily about. Because you’ve heard of it a hundred-or-so times and you were also supposed to close up ages ago, until he came waltzing in with that stupid pout and blonde hair of his. He’s a menace and nuisance but also your brother, so you offer him your own two cents and fresh onigiri. The night goes on with you both talking about Kita-san and life and the time Bokkun got his hand stuck in the pipe system back over in the MSBY dormitories. As you close up the shop and part ways, Tsumu yells at you saying he hasn’t figured out the serve yet, you yell back at him that he’ll figure it out somehow.

(he does. he debuts the new menacing northpaw serve, entitled the “hybrid serve” the next match the MSBY have.)

You are Miya Osamu and formally meet Akaashi Keiji for the first time. You recall him as one of the setters for Fukurodani, the highschool that often appeared in lists of participatory schools in the nationals as well as the former abode of your brother’s teammate, Bokuto “Bokkun” Koutaro. The dude’s nice. Probably needs more sleep, but generally nice. Seeing him and so many other people from highschool all gather up in Sendai for the match fortifies its already well-established significance. The crowd quivers and roars in awe as the MSBY win, some of shock, others of pride, many over at the Adlers side in goodbye to the sum of money they’ve pooled into bets. You quiver and roar in a grin, proud of your brother and the incoming flock of hungry customers coming over to your stand.

You are Miya Atsumu and your brother is Miya Osamu. No surprise he’s 60+ and still making those stupid equilateral riceballs of his. Probably because he’s got his life up together. Definately because he’s a FUCKIN’ [REDACTED] [REDACTED] HORSE-CRAP-LOOKIN’ [REDACTED] BITCHASS [REDACTED] [REDACTED] SHITTY SCRUB. You enter the shop and the doorway is no longer one you’d have to duck for in order to enter. The place is really neat. Sumiko-chan (16, working part time) welcomes you back and says Osamu-jiisan’s break is still in an hour or so. You wave her off saying you’re just gonna get a minced tuna and spring onion onigiris to go. She nods and tells you to wait for five minutes. You do so and in those five minutes, you watch ‘Samu smile as he’s heartily making those stupid equilateral riceballs of his out of rice and love and whatever the fuck each flavor requires.

He’s probably happy. You're probably happier. But he’s definitely happy.

#miya osamu #haikyuu!!

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bxcketbarnes · 6 years ago

Text

Deep Shit

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Words: 4000+

Author’s Note: Hey, guys! Another Steve fic here! I apologize in advance that it’s so long, but it’s cute. I really hope you guys like it and I literally based this off of this gif. xox

I walk into Scoops Ahoy! around five, seeing Robin standing at the counter and handing out spoonfuls of ice cream to Erica, Lucas' sister. She's such a little brat. "Hey, Robin!" I grin at the girl and her head snaps towards mine.

"Bestie! You're here, finally," she laughs after Erica and her little friends leave. After I get behind the counter I wrap my arms around her shoulders.

"Where's Steve?" I ask with furrowed eyebrows.

Robin smirks after pulling away from me, crossing her arms over her chest. "What? Am I not good enough for you anymore?" She asks me and my eyes widen.

"Wha-N-No. I was jus-"

"I'm kidding, don't get so flustered. He's in the back with his child friend," she informs me. Dustin?! He's back?!

A gasp leaves my lips as I quickly ran into the back, seeing Dustin sitting at the metal table as Steve stands beside him eating a banana. "Dustin!" I shout and the curly-haired boy picks up his head, a smile coming to his lips.

"Y/N!" He gets up from the chair and runs to me, wrapping his small arms around my waist.

"Look at you. You're getting too big, kid," I chuckle and my eyes meet Steve's. I smile softly at him and he returns it, running a hand through his hair. "What are you guys doing?"

Dustin pulls away from me and sits back in the chair. I sat my beg against the surface, my Scoops uniform sitting inside it as my shift starts soon.

"We're trying to crack a Russian code," Dustin nonchalantly says and my lips part a bit.

"What now? Steve, is this true? What did I miss?!" I ask in confusion as I glance between my two favorite boys.

Steve tosses the banana peel away before nodding his head. "Yeah, it's true. Dustin came across it last night while trying to talk to his girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?! Dusty!" I grin and walk over to him, hugging his head. "My little boy's growing up."

Dustin groans, trying to push me off him. "Stop!" He mumbles and I chuckle, letting him go. "Can we get back to cracking this? Please?"

Steve nods and Dustin presses play on the tape recorder. I grab my bag off the table, heading towards the employee bathroom so I can change clothes.

I step back out after changing into my uniform, soothing out the pleated dress as I heard Dustin yelling at Steve.

"Why are you listening to the music Steve?! Listen to the Russian! We're translating the Russian!"

"I'm trying to listen to the Russian, but the music-," Steve comments and gets cut off by Robin walking into the back while I walk up to the table.

"Alright. Babysitting time is over. You need to get in there," she tells him as Steve stumbles back a bit. The light-haired brunette looks towards her whiteboard. "Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbird."

I chuckled a bit, biting my lip as I recall her making tallies of all the times Steve failed to flirt with a girl. I wish he'd flirt with me…

"I guarantee what we're doing is way more important than your data," Dustin comments and my eyes move to Robin who moves to stand beside me.

"Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyway?"

Dustin's lips part as he looks up at Steve. "How does she know about the Russians? Did you tell her?"

"I didn't tell her anything!" Steve says while shrugging his shoulders.

"Hello, I can hear you," my bestie cuts them off and I nudge her a bit. She gives me a quick glance before returning her gaze. "I can actually hear everything. You two are extremely loud. You two think you have evil Russians plotting against our country on tape and you're trying to translate, but you haven't figured out a single word because the Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do. Sound about right?"

I press my lips together, trying to hold the laughter as the two boys look at each other. There's a quiet pause between all of us before Robin lurches forward, reaching for the device.

"Woah, what are you doing?" Steve asks after he grabs the recorder before she could.

"Steve-" I start but get cut off by Robin.

"I wanna hear it," she states.

"Why?" Both Steve and Dustin ask simultaneously.

"Because maybe I can help. I'm fluent in four languages you know."

"Russian?" Dustin asks and she replies with pig Latin, snickering as the two look at her like she has two heads. "Holy shit," he grins while looking up at us.

"That was pig Latin, dingus," Robin informs them and Steve hits the kid with the banana peel, uttering the word idiot.

"But I can speak Spanish and French and Italian and I've been in band for twelve years. Y/N knows," she mutters and glances back at me as she sits down. "My ears are little geniuses, trust me."

Steve stutters, trying to come up with an excuse for her not to help. "C'mon Steve," I mentioned before she has the chance to speak up. "You can help me scoop ice cream?" I smile at him and his eyes dart towards me.

"Yeah, go help Y/N! I don't even want credit, I'm just bored. Let me help," she tells him as she held out the scooper. He sighs and gives in, grabbing the metal utensil and hands her the tape recorder.

I smiled at the little girl that just bought an ice cream cone with her mother, wishing the two of them a good night.

"So, have you applied to any colleges?" Steve asks as the place suddenly became dead.

I hop up on the counter, crossing my leg over the other. "I've looked at some, but I'm just afraid that I won't be able to get in," I tell him and he shakes his head.

"No, no. I'm sure you will. You're super smart," he mentions and takes a step towards me.

I chuckle, shrugging my shoulders as his hand fiddles with the skirt of my uniform. My cheeks flush, looking at him through my lashes as his eyes were set on his hands.

The sliding window opened abruptly, Steve and I jumping a bit as he stepped away from me. I got down from the counter, seeing Robin giving us a skeptical look before speaking up. "We have our first word," she tells us.

"Yeah? What is it?" We both asked at the same time.

"The week is long," she states in a bad Russian accent and I let out a laugh.

"That's it?" Steve asks.

Robin nods her head. "Yeah. It's going slowly, but it's coming along," she tells us before closing the window again.

The bell rings and I turn around, seeing a guy that went to school with us standing on the other side of the counter.

"Ahoy! What can I get for you?" I ask with a fake smile on my lips.

"Can I get a cone of peppermint swirl, gorgeous?" He flirts and I nod, trying not to roll my eyes.

I heard Steve scoff as he washed some of the scoopers out in the small bin of water. I open the sliding door to the freezer, bending over slightly to scoop out some of the ice cream, giving him two scoops. I close the door afterward, feeling a pair of eyes on me as I take a glance behind me, seeing Steve's eyes raking down my body.

"Here you go, that'll be a dollar twenty-five," I tell the guy and he pays me, giving me a wink before leaving the parlor.

I turn back around to face my friend, his eyes still wandering as I snap my fingers. "Steve?! Enjoying the view?"

His cheeks heat up in embarrassment as his hand begins to scratch the back of his neck. "I-Uh, sorry," Steve mumbles and I chuckled softly.

"It's fine. I mean what can I say? It's an honor to be checked out by King Steve himself," I smirked with a wink and he rolls his eyes before glancing at the clock.

"Finally," he mutters and grabs the keys from inside the drawer, heading towards the front of the parlor, "I've been waiting almost all day to be closed."

I lean against the counter, watching him as he closes the metal gate. I softly bite my lip, deciding to check him out as he locks up. “Could you be any more obvious?” Robin’s voice reaches my ears and I snap out of my gaze, looking towards my right to see her standing by the door, arms crossed over her chest with a large smirk on her lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her, my own smirk present on my lips. A scoff leaves her lips as she shakes her head while Steve walks back over to us, flinging the keys around his finger.

“So, we finished cracking it,” Robin informs us and we walk into the back room, seeing it written down in both Russian and English.

“The week is long,” all four of us began reading slowly as Steve’s hand brushes against mine, “the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west.” What the fuck does that mean? I grab my bag off the ground as everyone else gathers their things. Dustin, Robin, and I walk out of Scoops after Steve opened the gate back up, allowing us to go through before him.

“So, what do you think it means?” I ask my best friend as Steve locks back up, shoving the keys into his pocket.

We began walking towards the main door as Steve speaks up before she could. “I don’t think it’s right.”

“It’s right,” Robin confirms and ignores my question entirely.

“Honestly, I think it’s great news,” Dustin pipes up while glancing over his shoulder.

“How is this great news?” Steve chuckles before continuing, “I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense. It’s too specific. It’s obviously a code,” Dustin tells us.

Steve’s hands find my hips and I jerk a little bit, giggles leaving my lips as I look back at him, seeing him give me a cheeky wink. “What do you mean a code?” He asks while walking beside me.

“Like a super-secret spy code,” he explains.

“That’s a total stretch.”

“I don’t know, is it?” Robin chimes in, glancing back at the two of us.

“You’re buying into this?” The older teen asks.

“Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, “fire the warhead at noon”?” Robin mentions and Dustin mutters an exactly. “And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so, “the silver cat feeds.” Why would anyone talk like that unless they were trying to mask the true meaning of their message?”

“I agree with Robin here,” I speak up and Steve looks towards me, letting out a deep sigh. “Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?” I ask the three of them, looking at each person.

“Exactly,” Dustin mentions once again, holding his hand out as Steve imitates us.

I nudge his arm with mine, noticing what he’s doing and lets out a chuckle before rolling my eyes. “So, I guess that confirms your suspicion,” Robin utters and looks towards the curly-haired kid.

“Evil Russians.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to agree with this strange child, but, yeah, totally evil Russians,” Robin laughs and I lay a hand on her back. We continue walking and none of us notice Steve had stopped towards the mechanical rides as Dustin proceeds to ask how we’re going to crack the code. “Well, I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”

I look to my left to see that Steve’s not by my side anymore, not paying attention to what Dustin is saying as I look behind me, seeing the older teen standing by the Indiana horse ride, shuffling through the change in his hand. “Steve! What are you doing?” I ask, gaining the other’s attention as I jog over to him.

“Uh, it’s a quarter. I need- Do you have a quarter?” He asks me, looking down into my eyes as my lips part before I begin to look through my bag, not finding one.

“No, I don’t,” I tell him and look back towards Dustin and Robin.

My best friend chuckles while the two jog over to us. “Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” She asks.

“Quarter!” He practically yells in my ear and I jump slightly. He mutters an apology to me, his hand resting on my arm for a few seconds. Robin throws him a quarter and he catches it, shoving it into the machine. Music begins to play as the horse rocks back and forth, the four of us staring at it as I try to figure out what Steve’s trying to get at.

“Need help getting up little Stevie?” Robin asks and he hushes her immediately. I recall hearing the end of the tape before Steve and Dustin began arguing after I got dressed into my uniform, a gasp leaving my lips as I kneel beside him.

His eyes meet mine as he nods his head. We continue to listen in silence for a bit longer before Dustin speaks up. “Holy shit.” Steve and I look up at the kid as Robin stares at him in confusion. “The music.” He takes his bag off his back, grabbing the tape recorder out of it before playing it, hearing the same song in the background of the recording.

“I don’t understand,” Robin pipes up and I look towards her.

“It’s the exact same song,” I inform her, Dustin nodding his head in agreement.

“Maybe they have the exact same horses in Russia,” she tries to debate.

“Indiana Flyer? I don’t… I don’t think so. This code, it… didn’t come from Russia,” Steve pauses, looking towards the two before his eyes met mine again, “it came from here.”

Steve and I were sat in my room, my fingers fiddling with the hem of my sweater as his leg brushes against mine. “So, you couldn’t get a shift for tonight?” He asks me and I shake my head, feeling utterly disappointed.

“No, I tried just about every reason. I know Friday’s are busy and if it’s just you and Robin, you’re going to get swamped,” I tell him and he nods his head. “If you want I can come by, later on, distract you guys from your job.”

Steve laughs as I give him a wink, giggling myself. “That would be fantastic. And if you can’t make it, I’ll call you from the store if we find anything out,” he lets me know and I nod.

He looks down at his watch, sighing softly before his honey brown eyes look into mine. “What’s wrong?” I whisper, noticing our faces inches apart.

“Nothing, I just… I just need to leave. My shift starts in an hour,” Steve mentions and I frown a bit. I nod my head, understanding as I get up from my spot on the bed and heads towards my bedroom door.

A hand wraps around my wrist and I stop in my tracks, looking behind me to see Steve staring down at me. Neither of us says anything as my heart begins to pound against my chest. “S-Steve I…” I trail off, my eyes fluttering shut as his nose brushes against mine.

“Y/N! Can you come here for a minute?!” My older sister yells and Steve and I jump apart, heavy breaths leaving my lips. He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair as I open the bedroom door, the two of us heading downstairs.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Steve asks, his fingers grazing against my arm. I nod my head, giving him a quick hug before he leaves the house.

I watch as he leaves, the door closing behind him before I let out a sigh. “You guys aren’t dating, yet?” My sister asks me and I let out a scoff and laugh.

“Are you kidding me? No, of course not. I don’t know where we stand, honestly,” I tell him and lean against the kitchen island. “I think he was gonna kiss me when we were upstairs.”

My sister, Julie, smirks at me with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, really now? What stopped him?” She asks and I let out a laugh.

“You, stupid. You yelled my name and we pulled apart,” I tell her and she lets out a groan.

“Goddamn it. Sorry, didn’t mean to cockblock you.”

Steve ended up calling me a few hours later, telling me that Robin had figured out the code and that we’re gonna meet up after the mall closes and the shipments come in. I left the house before it started storming, immediately regretting not bringing a change of clothes.

“Are you kidding? We’re gonna do a stakeout in this?” I asked the three of them and they nod their heads. I groan slightly, following them to the roof that’s across the shipment door.

My clothes are soaked by the time we reach the roof, getting into position as Dustin uses the binoculars, looking at the lit-up area. A truck pulls up to the building, the beeping of it backing up to the door getting lost in the sound of the rain and thunder.

“Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes,” Robin yells over the rain. I kneel in between Steve and Robin, watching the older boy wiping the rain out of his eyes. I look towards Dustin as he adjusts the binoculars before looking down at the truck, seeing two men with guns and another man rolling the shipment into the building.

“They’re with that whistling guy, ten o’clock,” Dustin shouts.

“What do you think’s in there?” Steve calls out, glancing towards the kid.

“Guns, bombs?”

“Chemical weapons?” Robin and I question at the same time, the two of us looking towards each other. She smiles at me, nudging my arm a bit as I let out a laugh, moving the wet hair out of my face.

I lean towards the girl, kinda shouting in her ear. “Did you ever think we’d be doing this right now?” I ask her and she shakes her head with a grin on her lips, adjusting the hood on her head.

“Whatever it is, they’re armed to the teeth,” Dustin mentions right before thunder cracks loudly.

I jump a bit and grip onto Steve’s arm, looking up at the sky. “Great,” Steve mutters and wipes the rain from his eyes again. “That’s great.”

“Hey, what’s in there?” Robin asks and I snap my head towards the group of men, seeing the doors now open as the guy wheels the boxes into it.

“It’s just more boxes,” Dustin tells us.

“Let me check it out,” Steve mentions and grabs the front of the binoculars. I shake my head, watching the two fight over the binoculars before one of them smashes it against the metal railing. A loud thud rings out over the storm, my heart in my throat as Dustin yells for us to duck.

I drop to the floor quickly, my fingers intertwining with Steve’s as the four of us breathe heavily, staying still. My eyes glance at our hands before looking towards Steve, seeing his eyes on our hands. I fully expected him to let go, but instead, he squeezed my hand, silently telling me that it’ll be alright as our hands move to the ground, still intertwined.

One of the guys yells in Russian and that was our cue to get up, not fully, but enough for us to get off the roof without being seen by anyone. I shiver as we walk down the dimly lit hallway, just wishing I can be home and wrapped in a warm blanket.

“Well, I think we found your Russians,” Robin tells Steve.

We all went out separate ways, Robin driving Dustin home and I sat in Steve’s car as he drives us to his place. I called my sister when we reached Scoops to tell mom and dad that I’m staying the night at Robin’s, not exactly knowing how they’d react to me telling them that I’m actually staying with Steve.

“You still cold?” He asks and looks over at me.

A cough leaves my lips as I shake my head, feeling the warmth of the heater blasting me in the face. “No, I’m alright, thank you,” I tell him and give him a small smile.

We arrive at his house about five minutes later and Steve turns the vehicle off before the two of us book it into his house, not getting any wetter than we already were. He locks his front door behind us before we head up to his room, glad his parents were out of town.

“Do you wanna use the shower?” He asks, pulling the soaked jacket off his upper body and tosses it into the laundry basket.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Can I uh, can I borrow some clothes?” I ask him while pulling the sweater off me, literally peeling it off my skin.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Steve mumbles and walks over to his dresser, getting a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He steps towards me, holding them out to me and I gently take them from his hands. I give him a smile, our fingers brushing against each other.

“Would it be too far to ask if you wanna shower with me?” I ask in a whisper, not meeting his eyes as my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

His finger hooks under my chin, lifting my head so I’m looking at him as his eyes roam over my face. “You want me to take a shower with you?” He asks, his voice becoming a little deeper as I swallow thickly and nod my head. “I’ll try my best to keep my hands to myself.”

I brush my hair as the fluffy white towel is wrapped around my body, watching as Steve runs a towel through his hair in the mirror. I press my lips together as he wraps the towel around his waist before resting his hands against my hips.

“You’re stunning, you know that?” He asks and presses soft kisses against my shoulder. My cheeks blush a bit, setting the brush down before turning around in his arms.

“I didn’t know that, but you’re way more stunning than me,” I tell him, glad I can be open about my feelings towards him. I move my hand up, running my fingers through his damp hair.

Steve shakes his head, chuckling a bit and we move to his bedroom, putting on dry clothes before getting into his queen-sized bed. He moves a bit of my wet hair out of my face, his thumb stroking my cheek softly. “Is it safe to say that you’re mine now?” He asks me and I can’t stop the smile coming to my lips.

“Do you want me to be yours?”

He gives me a look before leaning his head down, pressing his lips to mine. My eyes flutter shut, kissing him back as I shuffle my body closer to his. One of his arms wraps around my waist, his fingers dipping under his shirt that I’m wearing. Steve pulls away after about a minute, resting his forehead against mine. “Does that answer your question?” He questions and I bite my lip, nodding my head.

I rest my head against his chest, feeling his hand gently stroke up and down my back as the warmth began to come back to my body after being in the rain for so long. I feel Steve place a kiss to the top of my head as my eyes begin to droop shut, falling into a deep slumber.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to officially call you mine…”

Stranger Things Taglist: @whiitee--sxxl @joyfullyswimmingface @lovefilledtragedy @morningfears @adumbledoreable @vanitysfairr @lay-all-on-me @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @fangirlinganditswonders @ria132love @hhal0 @rissa067

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silveny-dreams · 6 years ago

Note

Wow I’m sorry I suck at specifics I mean how would u imagine them like personality wise if they where real in the human world and what do you think they’d act like and how would they dress. (Sorry this took so long I really am an idiot)

EXCELLENT this is a great headcanon/au idea so I’m gonna go full-fledged headcanon on this for you! (also seriously no worries I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell what you meant straight off)

OKAY here’s the Squad as High School Humans:

Sophie is your chill, every girl, you know? big zip-up hoodies, sneakers, always has earbuds in...she doesn’t fit into any of the cliques at school, but she’s dead smart with that touch of “don’t really care” that makes her not labelled a try-hard brainiac; she’s quietly obsessed with loads of nerdy fan culture--she’s just good at keeping it on the down low; sticks with her two best buddies for the most part (Marella and Dex obviously don’t @ me); she’s down to be casual friends with you if you’re not a complete jerk and she’ll make playlists and mixtapes for her friends, which is how you know she cares

Fitz is that guy that everyone simultaneously loves and hates--top in all his classes (except for Sophie), star of the school’s most successful athletics team (I’m thinking football but the sport is different for each school), impeccably polite to teachers and other students (although any of his friends would tell you that yeah, he’s a little arrogant, but they’d be quick to say “who wouldn’t be if they were him”), one of the few guys in high school who dresses more adulty/preppy (he had guidance from his older brother), the kind of good-looking that people of all grades and interests are into; most people would be lying if they said they didn’t think he was attractive

Keefe is Fitz’s best buddy and popular by proxy, although he’s got enough of his own charm and good looks to be popular on his own, too; instead of being sporty, Keefe is definitely the star of the fine arts program (solid singer, excellent drummer, decent actor); dresses way more casual, although it doesn’t matter what he wears--he still looks good; absolutely a closet nerd for pop culture (bonds with Sophie over this when they both get detention and she pulls out a binder with pop culture stickers on the inside); people pining after him are intimidated to approach only because he’s Fitz’s best bud and Fitz is terrifying to approach; one of those infuriating geniuses who doesn’t study for anything or turn in half his work and he’s still got straight As

Biana is similar to Fitz only in that she’s gorgeous and appears untouchable; one of the few people in school with the daring to dress fashion-forward instead of like everyone else, and it really works for her; good student, is student body president and star of the women’s lacrosse team; has a secret wild side that no one knows about that she indulges with friends she made from other schools Sophie and Biana become unlikely friends after spending the first two years of high school hating each other for no other reason than “she’s so different from me that she would probably hate me”

Dex is your AV club president and also the stage manager of the stage hands union; catch him backstage giving tech cues with a headset looking super professional during all the theater programs; spends the first two years of high school in hand-me-down clothes too baggy for him and spruces up his look once Sophie and Biana become friends; Biana’s lowkey had a crush on him ever since freshman year but she’s too shy to admit it since Dex has a grudge against all things Vacker; spends his lunch hours sitting in an alcove outside the lunch room eating with Sophie and Marella cracking jokes; could be the smartest student but doesn’t care that much so he’s at usually a B average, maybe B-

Tam is (to the surprise of hopefully no one) the resident goth kid; because of how he dresses (think all black, of course) and how quiet he, is no one approaches him and they all think he’s probably mean or super-emo, but he’s really just a grumpy, closeted softie; always hangs out with Linh to the point where people are whispering about whether it’s weird or not (not that he cares); average student but definitely super-smart about the subjects he actually is interested in (which is usually not any of the ones taught at school); he and Sophie are kind of silent allies in the classes they share full of people not like them--they always trade looks and smirks when someone says something stupid in class or when the teacher makes a dumb joke, and they swap music (their tastes are similar and different all at once)

Linh is your fairly shy, softspoken brainiac; captain of the academic team; an excellent visual arts student (think pottery, drawing, painting, LOADS of artistic mediums) but her biggest interest/love is photography; the kind of gal who has an artistic instagram no one but Tam knows about where she puts all her best pictures and art; the best way to describe her style is “soft”--think cozy sweaters, flowy tunics, pretty scarves; not always sure of how to make friends so she sticks fairly close to Tam, especially since she knows that if she didn’t he wouldn’t hang out with anyone else anyway and she doesn’t want to leave him all alone

Marella is one of those floater people who wouldn’t fit into any friend groups, except that she does have Dex and Sophie (she was friends with Dex since elementary school and met Sophie in freshman year at lunch); on the debate team for the sole reason of getting to argue; runs the gossip column on the school paper/website (she knows everything and no one knows how); joined the improv team her senior year and was amazing at it; there’s no other way to say it except that she dresses fairly butch/hipster and has at least five piercings, none of which her parents approved; not the best student but manages to squeak by because Dex and Sophie help her out

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theonewiththefanfics · 7 years ago

Text

Numb (Part 7)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10- END

Epilogue

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: swearing, as it usually is

Word count: 2382

Y/N’s sight blurred as slowly she looked around the room. The first thing she noticed was the pain. All-encompassing brutal pain. It wove through her body like ribbons made from barbwire and her head pounded like Thor was bashing his hammer against the girl’s skull. She groaned, but the sound was muffled by a plastic tube that reached far down her neck. Her heart rate picked up when horrible flashbacks of being held in her HYDRA prison cell came back, how they had force-fed her when she refused, choosing death over a life with them. The beeping from a nearby machine made her headache worsen, turning it in a full-blown migraine as she clutched both hands over her ears. Then it struck her- she wasn’t restrained. Y/N couldn’t feel any chains or bonds holding her body down. She wasn’t there. Opening her eyes in tiny slits, her vision swimming from the tears that had gathered she was greeted by a soft white room, lights dimmed to barely nothing, but even then they were harsh. The girl turned her head as she struggled to allow the machine breathe for her, the instinct to use her lungs trying to overtake, but she had to make sure if the hypothesis her mind had created was right. And indeed- through a large window, bright little dots welcomed her back to New York. Her home. But then the thudding in her chest picked up once more and Y/N winced from the pain. Looking up and over her bed she saw a big blue button, so with as much strength as she could muster, the woman pressed it. The Avenger expected a nurse or even Bruce to come in. What she didn’t expect was the whole damn team, most of them in their pyjamas, bleary-eyed and still half asleep to come running. If her body didn’t hurt so much, she would have burst out in laughter at the sight of Sam’s Spongebob underwear and his Patrick slippers. “Hey, shh, it’s okay,” Tony softly spoke as he put his palms on Y/N’s arms. “Try to relax okay?”

The woman just looked at him but did as the scientist told. He turned to Bruce and motioned for him to switch the sound of the monitor to a lower level. It took Y/N two minutes to remove her palms from her ears, her head still splitting open, but nothing she hadn’t experienced before. Her eyes caught the movement of Bruce as he pressed a button by the bed and it started to rise in a sitting position. “We’re gonna remove the tube, okay?” Tony drew soothing circles on her back, but Y/N didn’t even care about that because she had just seen Bucky. He stood there, disbelief in his blue orbs as he saw her awake. The woman choked out a sound, inaudible, but it was like they had a telepathic connection, as in a matter of milliseconds the super soldier was right by her side, grasping her palm and whispering sweet words of encouragement to her. “It’s gonna be uncomfortable and you’re not going to be able to breathe for a bit, but I need you to remember to do so. You’re gonna feel like your throat has closed off, but you have to push past it. And then I’ll need you to cough, as much as you can. Do you understand?” Y/N nodded at Tony’s instructions. “Okay,” he murmured and with gentle fingers removed the tape that had secured the plastic in her mouth. Y/N wanted to gag as the man pulled the tube out, feeling like bile was rising in her throat even though there was nothing in her stomach. After a few more agonising seconds it was out of her mouth and suddenly she was suffocating. Air didn’t fill her lungs, but it was even more than her windpipe being clogged. The woman felt like it had been ripped in two pieces and she had to find a way to connect them before passing out from the lack of oxygen. “Doll, do as Tony said, please,” she looked at Bucky seeing his pleading face and she did. She tried to pull in air, but it went nowhere. Right as Y/N was about fall back down to the bed, her vision turning black a gasping breath escaped her lips and she inhaled, which immediately set her on a coughing fit. Mucus and other gross things plopped down on her bedsheet, but no-one turned away, no one looked at her in disgust, rather Y/N felt everybody’s shoulders sag in relief as her ears even picked up on Wanda’s soft swearing, her body leaning into Vision’s. “There we go, honey,” Tony smiled at her and she replied with an exhausted quirk of her own lips. “Did you like the show?” Y/N’s voice was beyond raspy, sounding like she had been an avid smoker and drinker since she’d been born. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from our drama queen.” “Hey!” she choked out, through a smile. Bruce came from the side and placed two plastic tubes in her nose, allowing her to get some pure oxygen in her lungs and taking the struggle away. They helped her lay back down as Nat took off the dirty duvet and placed Y/N’s own. “Your first thought when hearing an alarm, which apparently woke up the whole town was to go in my room and get my blanket?” “Well, I knew you were awake, so why not?” Y/N smirked. “I could’ve been dying, you know. What then? Would you have buried me in it?” “Oh, no,” the Russian ex-assassin smiled as she tucked Y/N’s legs underneath the soft covers. “I would make sure you got buried in Wilson’s ‘My Little Pony’ blanket.” The woman turned her head towards Sam, eyes wide and full of mischief. “Oh, buddy, you do realise I’m never gonna let you live it down?” He looked at Nat, the word ‘traitor’ shining through his gaze. “I’m going back to bed. I’d say I’m happy you’re awake, but now I’m not too sure.” That made Y/N chuckle and simultaneously groan in pain. “Love you too birdbrain.” “We’re glad you’re back,” Nat patted Y/N’s foot and one by one they filtered out of the room. Everybody except Tony, Bruce and Bucky. The latter had been holding her hand the whole time and neither wanted to let go. Bruce broke her out of her thoughts as he announced that they needed to do some quick tests, to ensure that she was as stable as possible and could be left alone to rest. It took them around twenty minutes, adjusting the volumes of her monitors as Y/N’s head still hurt, and also adding specific painkillers to her liquid bag. “It’s your powers regenerating and getting back to where they were, that's why you're in so much pain. Since you’ve never pushed yourself that far, we believe you’re gonna be like that for some time,” Bruce adjusted the nozzle and the trickle slowed down a bit. “We can’t take it all away, but this will reduce it to a bearable dull ache.” “Why don’t you let Steve take me out on a run then. I’ll pass right out. won't have to worry about it then.” Tony laughed but pointed a finger at her in a fatherly manner. “Don’t you even think about that. You’re benched from missions and any kind of exercise for quite some time.” “Wha-“ she started to protest, but the collective look from all three men made her shut up and grumble out a ‘fine’. The two geniuses made their way towards the door. Tony looked back and saw that Bucky had stayed behind. He was just about to call on him, but the arm Bruce put on his shoulder stopped the inventor. And so they left the pair alone. “Hey,” Y/N softly said looking Bucky over, searching for any scar or injury. She didn’t have much perception of how long she’d been out of it, but seeing as there had been some dirt and blood still stuck in Steve’s hair, Y/N was sure it hadn’t been that long. “Hey, yourself,” the man replied, his metal hand going to place a Y/H/C lock behind her ear. “You scared us, doll. Scared me.” “I would apologise, but I believe that when you do it, you should mean it.” It made Bucky sigh, having known how stubborn Y/N was with what she thought was right and wrong, especially when it came to putting her own life in more danger than necessary when it came to protecting people she cared about. “I know and I kinda hate you for it. Did you even think about how I- we- would feel?” “You’d be sad for a while, but then you’d move on.” “Fuck, do you really think so little of yourself? Do you really think you’re expendable?” “I don-“ Y/N sighed looking for the right words, “I don’t think I’m expendable. But I knew that whatever happened, you’d be alright. That you’ve got a family. With or without me.” She wasn’t sure if she was talking about Bucky or about the rest of the team as well. “Besides, I was not going to let HYDRA get anywhere near you Buck. If I had to do it again, I would.” The ex-Winter Soldier furrowed his brows in confusion. “What are you talking about?” “Kosak tried to make a deal with me,” tears pooled in her eyes and one slowly rolled down her bruised cheek, which Bucky as gently as possible, wiped away. “He told me, he’d let me go if I gave them their asset. I mean, in any case, it was total bullshit, but just the thought that that parasite actually believed for one second that I would give your life up in exchange for mine… it was ridiculous.” “Why, doll?” Bucky quietly cried as well. “Because I love you and I’d never let anything bad happen to you. Not even if it cost me everything,” tears slipped down her cheeks as she squeezed Bucky’s palm as hard as she could. His forehead was pressed against hers as he whispered. “If you truly loved me then you wouldn’t have dared to do something that dumb.” The man said it without the realisation hitting him, that Y/N remembered, her feeling for him were no longer gone but were solid as a rock. She laughed, making Bucky’s heart soar as his blue eyes looked into her Y/E/C finding nothing but compassion and adoration. “Then please tell that to yourself, so I won’t have to listen to Steve berating you for not following orders when you do some stupid shit.” “He’s a punk! He himself can’t keep that idiotic heroic ass out of trouble. It’s like he smells it from a hundred miles away. He needs to learn some self-preservation instinct. ” “I don’t think that is something that can be taught,” she scratched his beard and Bucky leaned into the touch. “Then I’ll beat it into him. And if I gotta do that to you as well, don’t think I’m not above locking you in a room and staying there until you get it inside your beautiful little head, that my life is not worth more than yours.” “It is to me,” Y/N whispered. Suddenly his own heart lurched forward and it started beating with such intensity, if he had been the one hooked onto the heart monitor, Bucky was sure the machine would explode into smoke. “Are you-“ he stared at Y/N in disbelief, “do you remember?” Tentatively she nodded her head. “I do. All of it,” the woman gulped not letting go of Bucky’s gaze, “when Kosask made that offer it hit me like a train. The feelings came back and stronger than ever… As I said,” Y/N sheepishly smiled, “I’d do anything if that meant you being safe.” “You love me?” his mind was dizzy and Bucky could barely string a sentence together. “Have for two years now.” He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help the grin that stretched out across his face, couldn’t help the lightweight feeling, couldn’t stop his mind celebrating as the woman he had fallen for reciprocated his love. Finally. “I’m sorry for being such an ass and being so fucking dumb.” “Let’s just agree on the fact that we both were idiots and could’ve done things differently,” and then Y/N smiled. She actually smiled like she used to, her teeth showing and little lines adorning the corners of her eyes, pure happiness overtaking the room. Even with her chapped lips and tired eyes, to Bucky, she was still the most beautiful woman there was.

Loki had stayed behind when the alarm had been set off, wanting to keep an eye on Katrina. He moved through the darkness with the grace of a cat, not even a breath of air giving away that he was following the woman. She snuck into her room locking the door behind herself right as everybody else rushed out. The trickster had to admit, Katrina was an amazing actress because when Steve’s heavy footsteps thudded past her place, she peeked her head out, looking bleary-eyed and confused. “What’s going on? Is Dominic alright?” the woman exited and rushed to the room next door where her son slept. Bucky practically crashed into her. Loki could see how terrified and at the same time relieved he was. “Y/N,” was the only thing he managed to get out before dashing after the team to the med-bay. Katrina stood in the hallway, eyes filled with disbelief and something else that Loki was determined to figure out. Before he could see anything else wash over her face, she went to check up on the little boy and the god used her mistake of leaving her room's door open to sneak inside and take the white little keycard Katrina had so recklessly left on the bed. In the span of a second, he was out and walking towards his own quarters. Katrina didn’t even notice that the one evidence linking her to Y/N, to what she had said, to what she had done was missing, as the woman slipped under the silken sheets. And when she did, it would already be too late.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @ronnierockin @werecookielove @vannavinci @pandawolfunicorn @angelwingsbringmusic @murydedeus03 @lost-and-wandering-alone @bookwarm85 @itsholland-tomholland @thatcluelessone @salty-buchanan @disneychic8 @uwu-sebastianstan @deputyduckbutt @lusite14 @klmpun @severuined @lovely-geek @andrialynnsantana @vodkasindream @fadingculturemuffin @lynnskata @killjoynotes @vogueworthy-barnes @honeymufins @damnbuvky @the-marvelous-mcu @mystic-aly @starkxpotts @all-fandomthings @upremeoverlordletters @silent-world-of-a-deaf-boi @mrscevans @shliic @starks-girl @daysiminsideout @mrsalh32611 @xi-i-i-whatsyouremergency @bluebell725 @susmita121 @jamesbuckybananabarnes @mcu-potter-pirate @xxchloegrayxx @teapartydreams @balanced-ram @catthefearless @tokoyamisstuff @alphadareme @minniesugakookie @dustycelt @nephalem67 @sophiatomlinson23 @hellboundblogger @the-witch-of-plum-hollow @culinarycrystals @taylorsbread @slender--spirit @imagine-this-motherfucker @1v-kayla @winters-beauty @capandbuck @chingaderastillidie @csigeoblue @lordemjay @akacalciumhood @foureyedsiopao @savemesteeb @waves-and-sunflowers @alitav99 @phoenix-whiskey-tears @yayaobrien75 @imnotcoolmasterrr @anxietyrosee @yafriendlyfangirl @dean-the-trickster @aleeece17 @mummy-woves-you @bartonsbowandarrow @mdgrdians @rosecoloureddudez @just-an-explorer-2018 @irondadandspidersoncute @jay14616 @thea-marvel @dream45sworld @taylorcat2121 @honeystrawberrys @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @lumelgy @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @palaiasaurus64 @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @jentismyname

A/N: it’s so hot rn I wasn’t able to fall asleep last night until like one AM.

P.S. please let me know what you think :)

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged message me :) though please specify for what :)

P.S.S.S. please, don’t repost without credit :))

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hatandgoggles-writing · 8 years ago

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A Day At The Races Chapter 2: Greased Lightning

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut, or read the illustrated version on my Patreon!

This fan fiction contains internalized racism, internalized homophobia and heavily prejudiced characters. If you are sensitive to any of the above, proceed with caution or not at all.

The year is 1952. Keith had been picked on ever since the war began, street races became his outlet. Pidge and Hunk gladly help him win from his bully and rival Jimmy Parker.

Chapter 2 of 6 Completed 911 words Romance/historical

“You know, I think it’s almost kind of sad we have to get rid of Frankie. Come to think of it, we’ve spent our best times as friends with him! Can’t we just keep him, please?” Hunk pleaded.

“Hunk, for the last time, I won’t have any space left in dad’s barn to keep him when Red’s finished.” Keith groaned as he rolled the wheels away from the beat up car that was currently being taken apart, staring hopefully at the half-finished car in the corner of the workshop. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he would have torn in two if I rounded another corner with him.”

“That’s because you drive like a maniac!”

“Trust me, big guy, there’s method to the madness.”

“Ah?” A third voice interjected. “Who is Frankie?” Lance had been living with the Holts for three months now, renting the room that belonged to Katie’s older brother while he was away for college. He had traveled the states for months, taking various odd jobs before he started living with the family. However, he liked it here so much and adjusted so well that he settled down with relative ease, working at the garage for his rent and at the diner to support his family back in Cuba. Samuel, Katie’s father, had already submitted the paperwork to apply for Lance’s green card. The two of them had briefly toyed with the idea of enrolling him into the local high school, but upon realizing everyone his age would be graduating soon, they changed their minds, allowing Lance to focus fully on working, making friends, and fitting in.

“Oh, hey Lance! Frankie would be the car.” Hunk said, proudly patting the roof, which drew a metallic groan from the structure that startled the man. “Okay, maybe we were right to take him apart…”

“You named your car... after Frankie Valli?” Lance asked, looking at Keith questioningly.

Keith chuckled. “It only screeches like him when I hit the brakes. But no, Katie named him after Frankenstein’s monster. She and Hunk put it together from six different cars. Pretty impressive if you ask me, but if anyone could do it, these geniuses could.”

“Why not fix it?” Lance asked again. A valid point, actually.

“Because we’re spending more and more money on fixing it. It’s a matter of time until we spend more money on fixing Frank than Keith actually earns in his races, so we need to build something more durable.” Katie said as she walked out of her father’s small office and used her pencil to point at numbers on a spreadsheet. “It’s just not worth pumping money into it anymore. We’ll probably still use bits and pieces for Red’s engine, though.”

Lance turned to Keith at a speed that could have given the boy a whiplash. “You race?!” He shouted as he grabbed the front of Keith’s jacket, looking at him with stars in his eyes. “Can I see? Please?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You don’t have your green card yet, and these races are illegal. It’s probably best if you’re not seen anywhere near them.” Keith tried to reason with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to give Lance a hard ‘no’.

To be completely honest, the pout and the doe eyes gracing the face of the boy in the blue overalls only seemed to make it more difficult to give him one. Eventually, Keith cracked. “Okay, fine. Next week, Saturday night. We start near the bank on Montgomery Avenue at midnight.”

“Yes!” Lance shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “I will be there!” he told Keith excitedly before Katie directed him to the car he was supposed to be working on.

“He’s a good kid.” Hunk commented with a fond smile on his face. “Fast learner, hard worker, very excitable.”

Keith nodded in agreement. “I like him.”

***

Saturday morning, 02:00 AM. Time for the final testing round. The last two weeks had been agonizing; the three of them put every waking hour not spent at school into tirelessly building and testing the car Keith would use to make history by knocking Jimmy Parker down a peg.

He impatiently waited as Hunk unloaded the small, scarlet car from the trailer and onto the street that would, unbeknownst to the authorities, host the race tonight.

Despite his initial reluctance about the Fiat 500, he had seen what she was capable of on the test runs on the Holt garage’s parking lot. She packed a punch under the hood. If his opponents tonight would underestimate her as much as he had when Katie had first told him of her plan, he would easily win.

The competition would be crazy tonight. He had heard rumors about professionals competing, coming all the way from California and Nevada to assert their superiority over ‘every tractor racing hick in this town’. But none of that would matter when he and Red leave them in their dust as soon as the starting signal sounds.

Keith got into Red once Hunk finished putting her into place. Twenty-two hours to go, and Keith was already buzzing with adrenaline. He put the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life, shifted into third gear, pulled his foot off the clutch and simultaneously stomped the gas pedal into the floor.

Keith smirked as everything in the world but him, Red and the road faded away. Nothing else mattered.

‘Let’s make this kitty purr.’

Author's note: Please, never EVER start your car from third gear. I know I wrote Keith doing it and I know it's technically possible, but as someone who was in the car when a friend of mine did this, it is not a pleasant experience. Keith is an idiot. Don't try this at home.

Edit note for chapter 1: I switched Keith's mother's hometown from Seoul to Pyongyang, this will be significant later on.

#EN #fanfic #Voltron #Voltron: Legendary Defender #50s AU #klance

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alex51324 · 8 years ago

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Trump: Mastermind, Idiot, or Idiot Fronting for a Mastermind?

So, right now about half of liberal commentators are floating theories that the chaos in the Trump misAdministration is actually a front for a sinister agenda, whether Trump’s own or someone else’s. The other half are saying, No, it’s actually chaos and they are just as inept as they seem. One example of the former camp is “Trial Balloon for a Coup?” This piece suggests that the Administration staged the totally-not-a-Muslim-ban fiasco in order to find out which government agencies would take their side when they did something blatantly illegal. An example of the second is Slate magazine’s “Conspiracy Theory Theory,” which suggests that the real reason we are all so anxious to find a Secret Plan is that if there was one, that would mean being smart still matters.

I say--why not both? It’s pretty obvious that the Administration is a loose collection of factions, each of which has its own agenda: you’ve got the Two Steves, Bannon and Miller, heading up the Alt-right/White Nationalist faction; Mike Pence boosting for the fundamentalist Christians and their crusade to dial back the sexual revolution; the whole Goldman Sachs cabal, whose agenda is to deregulate business in general and banking in particular; and I don’t even know what Jared and Ivanka are up to.

No one is secretly masterminding all of the chaos in order to advance a unified agenda--but no one is actually trying to reduce the chaos, either, because each faction figures it can use the others’ chaos and scandal as a smokescreen while they advance their own agendas.

This theory is simultaneously more and less scary than either the “it’s all a grand plan” or the “there is no plan” theories.

For one thing, it would mean that they aren’t quite as stupid as they look. They aren’t secret political geniuses, but it isn’t that they are all failing in the same ways at doing the same thing. Each faction believes that they are the One Sane Man in this clowncar of incompetence; they can recognize the blunders being made by the other camps, but have no interest in preventing them. In a functioning administration (or any functioning organization), plenty of stupid ideas get floated; they just get shot down by people who have enough distance from that idea to see its flaws.

This is less scary because it means we aren’t going to wake up one day to find that the Evil Plan has come to fruition and we’re now living in a highly organized police state. Additionally, we can expect the different factions to continue tripping each other up, leaking, and otherwise drawing attention to each others’ blunders.

This is more scary because, if there is no single plan, the chances of something catastrophic happening by accident go way up. It also means that we have to keep playing Terrible Idea Whack-a-Mole, indefinitely. If each faction thinks that they are the smart one, seeing another faction crash and burn isn’t going to teach them anything. The sound spanking that Team Nazi received on the totally-not-a-Muslim-ban, for instance, isn’t going to deter the Fundies or the Goldman Sachsies, because they already thought the White Nationalists were idiots and foresaw their failure.

Ultimately, I think the crowded media landscape, which is usually kind of a problem, is turning out to be a terrific defense against this kind of semi-strategic chaos. If we still had three major networks each doing an hour of news a night, and a handful of papers of record putting out one or two editions a day, the distraction model would work: when one faction has a public meltdown, it would suck up all the bandwidth and let the others operate without scrutiny. But since we have so many different media outlets, all under pressure to provide new stories 24 hours a day, and to be the first to jump on something, there are eyes looking every direction at all times.

As consumers, it’s still difficult to figure out which stories are important to follow and which ones are just noise, but the media are also watching each other, which raises the likelihood that anything really important will filter to the top. Example: the other day, Mother Jones pointed out that the Russian hacking story had gone dormant for the last week or two. A few other places picked that up and echoed it, and then we suddenly got a brand-new and pretty huge development in the Russian hacking story, which it turned out WaPo and the NYT hadn’t forgotten about at all; they were quietly working on confirming this big story that Flynn did, in fact, talk to the Russian ambassador about sanctions when Obama was still President, and oh yeah, they’d also been in touch throughout the campaign. Meanwhile, CNN was also working on their story about confirming some (unexciting and non-salacious) details in the pee-pee dossier.

There was, as it turns out, plenty of bandwidth in the overall media universe to both breathlessly report on each new scandal-that-may-or-may-not-be-important-but-we-have-to-watch-in-case-it’s-the-start-of-something-big and to keep investigating this big, definitely-important-but-complicated-and-slow-developing story. And that is Not Scary.

#donald trump #us politics #media #clowncar of incompetence

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notesfromthepen · 7 years ago

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Prison Day Room

The prison day-room. What an enchanting little oasis of relaxation and leisure inside every unit in prison... Let me explain this paradise in the Michigan Department of Corrections.

It's designed to be a sort of 'recreation/common area' for the inmates in each unit. A place to watch TV, play cards, use the microwaves, and send emails (like this) on the J-pay kiosks. They're relatively small rooms (about the size of a three car garage), considering they're expected to accommodate the needs of nearly 200 of our societies least manageable members.

Though intended purposes of the day-room are basic and reasonable, they tend to take a back seat to it's preferred usage, which is a venue to hold "debates." And by debates I mean numerous and simultaneous hollering matches, held at levels that dwarf the volume of the mostly decorative TV hanging on the wall.

These constant yelling matches are nearly always about some nonsensical bullshit with no relevance to anyone actually holding the fevered "debates". More ridiculous is the fact that the debates are rarely over anything provable. These geniuses are arguing opinions as facts. Opinions based on nothing more than a general feeling....

So when you're in the need to send an email or use the microwave, or god forbid you don't have your own TV and want to watch something in the day room, it comes at a price.

You'll have to pop you popcorn in the industrial microwave speckled with a Jackson Pollack spray of some unknown substance while listening to the age old debate of who's a better rapper; Cardi-B or Nikki Minaj.

If you want to check your email, it'll be on a screen behind shatter resistant plastic, encased in brushed steel, while two natural born winners argue about K Michelle's ass being real.

And if you want to catch the latest TED Talk, or an episode of Basketball Wives on the ole tube, you'll have to put up with a discussion (much louder than the TV) about the differences between the German and French existentialist philosophers...Just kidding you'll have to listen to a guy, who stands in the med line twice a day, tell another guy who stands in the med line three times a day, that Halle Barry is actually having sex in all of her sex scenes.

There has yet to be a television show created that is worth putting up with such loud, aggressive, and utterly pointless nonsense...except maybe Arrested Development...Nope, not quite.

In my worst moments, when I'm forced to deal with this parade of idiocy I secretly try to will an asteroid to slam into earth ending all life on this planet. Eventually I come to my senses and just hope that they are poisoning our food in here. Sure I'll die too but sacrifices have to be made to save the world from such inconsiderate, proud, and grandiose stupidity. There's enough of that going on out there as it is, there's no need to add the stupidity of convicted felons to the more than capable idiots in red baseball hats. And if I have to die for some greater good, then so be it….

OK I should get outta here before the asteroid.

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arlingtonpark · 7 years ago

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