#Black Tiger Fight Club | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

powpowpunchout · 1 year

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Dinner Night

Octave stared at himself in the reflection of an old store’s tinted window. He looked bad.

He fiddled with the collar of his white dress shirt, he buttoned and unbuttoned his coal-gray suit multiple times, he flattened out the wrinkles on his black pants the best he could, but he still looked bad.

He took a step closer towards the window. It was already hard enough to see himself because of the tint–and the fact it was evening certainly didn’t help–so he could only get a good look at himself when the large, bright blue sign of the neighboring Jazz club flickered. And whenever that sign did provide enough light for Overload, he didn’t like what he saw.

His outfit looked ridiculous. He wasn’t sure why it looked off tonight. He’s worn this plenty of times before and it looked just fine. He pulled on his shirt’s collar again, the dang thing looked like it was choking him, but no matter what little adjustments Octave made, it didn’t change the fact that he looked bad.

Octave stared at his reflection for a moment longer. He took another step closer, his nose an inch away from the glass. Maybe it was his face. Maybe that’s what looked bad.

Octave grabbed his chin and cocked his head at an angle. He soaked in every little disgusting detail on him. The bags under his eyes, the strands of hair in front of his face, the bruises from last week’s fight, his messy stubble, his nose…

‘Bet’cha could smell t’ings miles away with that nose o’yers.’ Aran’s voice rang through his head, among his hundreds of other nose jokes that all bled together. Octave scowled.

He stepped away from the window and kept walking backwards until he felt his back hit a lamppost.

He stood there and stared at the old store in front of him. At it’s slightly torn sign and worn down walls, much like every other building on the block.

The muffled sounds of saxophones and drums could be heard through the walls of the jazz club, followed by cheers and applause.

Its blue sign was still flickering.

It was starting to get on his nerves.

‘Why do ya even care bout how ya look?’ Octave asked himself, ‘Ya know what sorta people care about their looks? Th’ones with nothin’ better to do with their lives. Th’freaks with no personality.’

Octave shoved his hands into his pockets and grumbled.

Maybe he should walk back home and take another shower. Maybe that’ll make him feel better.

Sure, the walk would take 20 minutes, but at least that’d be a good use of his time rather than waiting for Great Tiger to meet him here. Tiger was running late.

‘Tiger ditched ya.’

He should’ve realized that ten minutes past their meeting time.

He should’ve just asked Tiger for the street name the bar was on and meet Tiger there, rather than standing outside like an idiot.

He didn’t even ask for the bar’s name. Moron. Why did–

“Ah, Overload!” He heard Tiger’s voice from… Somewhere.

Octave’s eyes darted around the empty streets, and then he looked up.

Floating gracefully down from the night sky with a smile on his face was Great Tiger, “Aren’t you dressed wonderfully tonight.”

“Tiger,” Octave straightened himself. He scanned Tiger up and down. He had some sorta vibrant-orange shawl that was wrapped around his neck and covered the right side of his chest, completely hiding his right arm. One end of the shawl dangled in front of him, stopping just above his knees. It also had some sorta yellow and purple swirly pattern running along its edges that reminded Octave of flowers. The rest of Tiger’s outfit that wasn't covered–his orange-yellow tunic and his dark magenta pants–were just as vibrant as his shawl. “Talk bout tacky.”

Tiger shot his brows up and put his hand on his chest, but before he could say anything, Octave spoke again.

“I’m just jokin’ round. Just didn’t expect ya to wear somethin’ so colorful.”

“Oh, yes.” Tiger spun around, the end of his shawl trailing behind him, “I was so indecisive tonight. I had no idea what I wanted to wear, so I had several of my clones try on different outfits to see which one I liked most so I could–”

“Is that why ya late?”

Tiger froze. His cheeks grew hot, “No, no, I–that only took a few minutes. You see…” He stroked his beard, “I haven’t been to this part of the city in ages, so I got–perhaps–a little… Lost.”

“Why didn’tcha teleport then? Didn’t feel like puttin’ in the effort or somethin’?” Octave folded his arms.

“I can’t teleport to a place I’ve never been to before, Overload.” Tiger snapped, but his expression softened, “But I did keep you waiting for a while, didn’t I?”

Tiger slowly landed on his feet, the bottoms of his hickory-colored, closed sandals touching the ground with a quiet ‘tap’. He brought his eyes to Overload’s, “And for that, I apologize.”

Octave’s grip on his arms tightened.

He… Wasn’t sure how to respond to that, honestly. He wasn’t even expecting an apology. A strange, uncomfortable sensation flashed through him for just a moment, one that burned the back of his throat.

“Yeah, well,” Octave swallowed as he shoved his hands back into his pockets, “glad ya didn’t get killed or somethin’.”

“Oh, were you worried about me while you were waiting?” Tiger put his hand over his mouth. Despite his concerned tone, Octave could see the playful grin he was trying to hide.

Octave rolled his eyes, “Ya just–Hey, ain’t we gonna be late? Which way do we gotta go for th’bar?”

“Ah, right!” Tiger perked up and hovered right off the ground, “It isn’t too far from here!” He said, waving his hand for Overload to follow, “We might be a few minutes late–but Flamenco’s always the last one to arrive, so we’ll be fine. I’m sure Hondo and Bear won’t mind a little bit of a wait…”

~ ~ ~ ~

“...So halfway through th’call, my phone started actin’ up and I could barely hear Joe on th’other side…” Bear Hugger said while leaning against the outside wall of the bar. Despite how cold the worn down bricks were–and despite the fact Bear was wearing a coral colored short sleeve shirt tonight–Bear didn’t seem to mind the chill.

Hondo nodded along as he stood on the cracked sidewalk that was being basked by the warm, amber lights coming through the bar's arched windows. His eyes scanned the city streets and the night sky as Bear rambled on. It wasn’t particularly busy in this area–even for a weekend night–which should make spotting Don Flamenco and Great Tiger all the easier.

“...And that got me worried cus I’ve had this phone for years ‘n didn’t wanna go through the hassle of gettin’ a new one, so I hurried back home to see if things would get better. Part of me was hopin’ it was a service problem…” Bear fidgeted with the copper acorn pin clipped onto his rosewood-pink, buttoned-up vest with one hand, while keeping a tight clutch on his tote bag with the other.

There weren’t too many cars passing by, and the only people taking up the sidewalk–besides Hondo–were small groups of friends. Most were alongside the street to the far left of where Bear and Hondo stood, lounging around in front of closed stores as they chatted away and filled the night’s air with their distant laughter.

“...But th’moment I got inside, my phone just went ‘n shut down! So I was freakin’ out even more–” Bear shot his arms out and accidentally smacked one of the bar’s windows, getting a few odd looks from the staff. He gave a sheepish smile and an apologetic wave before he quickly checked the contents inside the bag. Once he made sure everything was okay, he rearranged the light-blue tissue paper that was poking outside of the bag and continued, “... But uh, then I realized th’battery died.”

The only other sounds that took over the evening was the faint music coming through the bar’s cracked open black door, and the ocean across the street.

Most stores that were close to the beach were usually bustling with business, but not at this part of the city; not by this part of the beach. Unlike the other beaches that Hondo’s been to, this one was much smaller, its waters were absolutely frigid, and instead of soft sand, the shores were covered with small, jagged rocks, making it quite unpopular.

“...I looked around th’place and couldn’t find my dang cable anywhere, so I stepped outside to think ‘n retrace my steps, and guess what I saw in one of ‘em birdhouses I set up?” Bear asked, adjusting the wine-colored beanie on his head before shoving his band aid-covered hand into the pocket of his pants, which was the same color as his hat and shoes.

“Hm?” Hondo said as he kept his eyes on the streets, tugging at the sleeves of his burgundy-red dress shirt.

“My dang chargin’ cable! One of ‘em critters must’ve nabbed it ‘n used it as a part of their nest! I felt mighty bad bout takin’ it from ‘em, but I gotta keep in touch with my friends somehow…”

Hondo turned and looked down the far right side of the street for any signs of Don or Tiger, but saw nothing. He pressed his lips together and dug the bottoms of his derby, black shoes into the pavement.

“...Anyways, after that whole mess, I finally got my phone up ‘n runnin’ and got to talk to Joe again!”

Hondo didn’t even know why he bothered looking in that direction. The only notable thing on that side of the street was a long, white, cement wall with ocean waves, colorful fish, and seashells painted on it. It was used to divide the city block from a nearby neighborhood, and it was rather tall. There weren’t any entrances either, so there was no way Don could come from over there, and Tiger usually teleports to their get-togethers.

“...He was tellin’ me bout how he ‘n Sandman made some bread together, which I thought was real great–we should do that some time soon, ya know?”

“We should.” Hondo nodded. He wrapped his thumbs around the belt loops of his dark brown pants as worry picked at him more and more.

“Yeah! Well, anyway, Joe goes on to tell me that Sandman hardly had enough ingredients for th’bread, but they were still real determined to make it…”

The more seconds that ticked by, the more tense Hondo became. He tried to lean next to his friend in an attempt to relax, but it wasn’t working.

“...They had bout 2 eggs to work with, not enough butter–so they didn’t use any–no yeast either. It sounded like that bread was gonna turn out horrible, heck, Joe even said when they took it outta the oven, it looked like a mound o’ death…”

Don Flamenco is always late to their dinners. Hondo expects that. But Tiger? That man is hardly ever behind. Tiger should’ve teleported to the bar just minutes after he and Bear had arrived. Where was he?

“...But apparently it tasted great! Ain’t that something?”

“Yes–wait.” Hondo snapped out of his worries and whipped his head over to Bear, “They… Didn’t use yeast?”

“Yup.”

“How–” Hondo stopped and thought to himself for a moment, “How do you make bread without yeast?”

“Well,” Bear put his hands on his hips, “there’s plenty’a recipe books out there, ‘n all sorts of bread, so I’m sure th’two were able to find some sorta recipe that didn’t need it.”

“Yes, but yeast is… The most recognizable component when it comes to making bread. It’s arguably the most important one.”

“Recognizable?” Bear cocked his head to the side, “I’d argue th’dang loaf itself is the most recognizable part bout bread.”

“Yes, but that loaf couldn’t have been made without the yeast. There–”

“Again, there’s a whole bunch’a recipes that probably don’t need yeast.” Bear lowered his brows.

“But most breads do need yeast. If you go to the store and–”

Bear cut him off again, “I don’t go to a store, buy some bread, eat a slice and then go: ‘Dang, wonder if this thing’s got yeast in it.’ Cause I’m focused on th’actual food, not th’ingredients. Th’bread ain’t gonna become not-bread th’moment I find out it doesn’t have yeast.”

“Oh my–” Hondo buried his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe he and Bear were having a genuine discussion over bread of all things, “I am simply stating that when you consume the bread, you are also consuming the yeast that was used to make the bread. Making bread without yeast is like…” He gestured with his hands for a moment, “Like making banana bread without bananas.”

“Banana bread’s also a type of bread that don’t need yeast.”

“That was not the point of my example–”

“Good evening, gentlemen!” A familiar rang through.

The two men spun around to see Don Flamenco standing before them, one hand on his hip and his head raised ever so slightly. Despite this being a casual get-together, Don’s attire was anything but. His dashing, rose-red, Spanish-styled short suit had golden flower petals embroidered into its top and bottom corners. The low v-neck and edges of his suit–along with his sleeve cuffs–were also the same shade of gold, and the shoulder pads he wore were… Well, they certainly got an eyebrow raise out of Hondo.

They weren’t bad, they were just… Extravagant. They were thick, golden-yellow, had a white rim around them, and in the smack center of them was a giant, red rose pattern. Dangling from the edges of the pads were some sort of shiny-looking threads that danced around with every little movement Don made.

“Don! Glad ya made it!” Bear beamed as he went over and gave Don a hug.

“Of course! Did you ever doubt me for a second?” Don asked with a smirk. As soon as Bear set him down, Don adjusted the collar of the white dress shirt he wore underneath before patting down his light red pants.

Hondo rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to tell Don they lied to him and gave him an earlier meeting time just so he didn’t arrive late. It wasn’t worth the headache.

“Nah, course not.” Bear swatted at the air, “Gotta say, that’s a mighty snazzy outfit ya got on.”

Don’s smile only grew wider, “Ah, thank you, my friend. And your attire is quite nice as well.” He slicked his hair back. The sleeves of his suit had thin, yellow lines that ran across them.

“Awh, shoot.” A little bit of pink spread across Bear’s cheeks.

As the two chatted, Hondo couldn’t help but study Don’s outfit. His dress shirt and pants looked on the thinner side, his suit didn’t even reach his waist; the only thing that did look like it’d keep Don warm tonight were his long, white socks. Hopefully Don won’t complain about being cold like he always does.

Hondo tugged at the ends of his white headband, tightening it before he spoke up, “Don, did you happen to see Tiger on your way here?”

“Tiger? He isn’t here already?” Don’s head darted around, and when he saw no traces of the man, he put his hand to his chest, “It seems I am not the last one for once.” He said with a hint of pride in his voice before looking at Hondo, “I bet you feel ridiculous after all that nagging you’ve given me these past few days, hm?”

Hondo’s mouth curled to a frown, “I am focused on Tiger, not your poor time management skills. Tiger is hardly ever late, what if something happened to him?”

Bear stepped between them, “Hasn’t he been busy with helpin’ Bull prep for his next fight? Maybe he lost track of time and is headin’ over right now.”

“Bald Bull has another fight? So soon?” Don said.

Bear nodded, “Right? Poor guy can’t catch a break.”

“I suppose if the man can handle it…” Don folded his arms and started to tap his foot. His black oxford shoes were so polished, so clean, that Bear swore he could see his reflection in them.

Bear’s eyes flickered back over to Hondo, who was staring at the street again, a concerned expression on his face.

Bear put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “He’ll be comin’ soon–I mean, this is Tiger we’re talkin’ bout. I bet th’moment we sit down, that man’s gonna poof outta thin air right in front of us!”

Hondo pressed his lips together. He glanced at the bar’s door then back to the city streets.

“Yes, but perhaps… We should wait a little longer?”

“I don’t mind th’sound of that.” Bear smiled.

“I do.” Don piped up. The two men looked over to see Don with his arms tightly wrapped around himself, bouncing up and down, “It is freezing out here! I don’t know how you two can stand it.”

“The evenings here are always cold, especially when we are this close to the ocean. I don’t know why you chose to wear something so thin when you know this.” Hondo said.

Don snarled his teeth, “The same reason you’re dressed in that business-looking attire. It looks nice! I love my outfit! I don’t care what the weather is like, if I freeze to death, then at least my corpse will be finely dressed!” Don bounced faster, “We can wait for Tiger inside, surely.”

Bear glanced back and forth between the two, unsure of what to say next. Hondo let out a sigh.

“Fine. We will wait inside.”

“Perfect!” Don’s face lit up. He made his way right up the cobblestone steps and propped the bar’s door open. He motioned an ‘After you’ towards the other boxers.

The men slipped inside–Bear gave a quick thanks to Don–before they were greeted by a waiter.

The waiter guided them across the restaurant, the wooden planks below creaked under their weight and mixed with the faint conversations of the other customers. Hondo took in a deep breath, welcoming in the subtle scent of roasted garlic and olive oil while his cheeks slowly warmed up.

Okay, he’ll admit it.

He’s sort of glad they went inside.

He didn’t realize how cold he was until now.

But no way was he going to tell Don that; he’d probably act smug for the rest of the evening.

When they finally reached the other end of the bar, their waiter waved a hand towards the large, warm-beige, round booth pressed against the left wall before setting down a couple of utensils and laminated menus. Bear Hugger happily sat in the middle of the seat and placed his bag underneath the table. Hondo sat to the left of Bear, and Don scanned for any crumbs and stains on the table-top before he sat to the right of Bear, propping his head up with his hands and smiling.

“Could I start you guys off with anything to drink?” The waiter asked as they pulled out a pen and notepad from the pocket of their black apron.

Don immediately flipped to the backside of the menu where all the expensive wines were. Hondo lowered his brows. Every time they came here. Every. Time. Don just had to choose some new, exquisite wine that cost more than all their meals combined.

Hondo was just thankful they always split the bill after these get-togethers.

As Don chatted to the waiter about their drink options, Hondo turned around to look at the door.

Still no signs of Tiger.

Perhaps he should give him a call?

“Ey Hondo,” Bear said, snapping Hondo out of his thoughts, “ya want th’ice tea as well?”

“Oh,” Hondo blinked, “yes. That’s fine.”

The waiter nodded, jotting all that down before heading off to check on one of the other tables.

Bear hummed as he picked up the menu. Hondo just kept staring at the door. Gentle music and quiet conversations swirled together and filled the air. Everything else around him, from the brick walls, to the little string lights wrapped around the cedar-wood pillars and support beams, to the other booths that aligned the walls, to the waiters that passed by, to the small groups of people scattered throughout the tables, they all blurred together. He couldn’t even take a moment to appreciate the bar’s usual, pleasant atmosphere. He just kept focusing on that door.

Hondo gripped the top of the booth. His nails dug into the thick, garnet-red cushions.

“Holy cow! Don’t that look good?” He heard Bear say.

Hondo shook his head and looked at the direction Bear was facing. It was a couple tables away, but Hondo could see another waiter serving someone a cast iron pan filled with kettle chips, a big burger, and who knows what else .

“Now there’s somethin’ I wanna try!” Bear shoved his face back into the menu, eyes quickly scanning the content, “Wish they had pictures in this darn thing, would love to know what they ordered.”

As Bear kept searching, Hondo’s eyes were drawn to the light blue tissue poking out from under the table. He tried to readjust his position. He inched himself closer to the bag so he could get a peek inside–but the bag was suddenly pushed away by Bear’s foot.

“Don’t think I didn’t see ya.” Bear smirked, “Didn’t take ya as a snooper.”

Hondo’s face got hot, “Apologies. Curiosity got the best of me.”

“S’all good. Look, th’second Tiger’s here is th’second y’all get to see what’s inside. Promise.”

Don suddenly let out a dramatic sigh and fanned himself with the menu.

“I know you two aren’t in any sort of relationship, but I desperately need your advice.”

Bear and Hondo exchange glances.

“Bout Carmen?” Bear asked.

Don nodded and showed off the dessert section of the menu, “You see, I usually get Carmen a slice of their chocolate cheesecake to go, but I’m afraid that it’s getting a little… Repetitive. Do you think I should buy her something different?”

Hondo stared at Don.

“What does being in a relationship have to do with choosing food.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Don looked away.

“Does… Being in a relationship suddenly change how food tastes?”

“Oh, it absolutely does.” Don said, putting his hand to his chest, “Before I dated Carmen, even meals from the finest of restaurants didn’t spark anything within me, but on our very first night out, she took me to a tiny restaurant where–”

Hondo sighed and opened his menu. Welp. He accidentally triggered one of Don’s monologues. At least it’ll provide some nice background noise as they waited for Tiger.

Hondo’s eyes glazed over the options. He wasn't sure if he wanted to try a new meal, or stick with his usual. Maybe he’ll steal a little from Bear’s plate depending on what he orders. Either way–

Don gasped.

Hondo and Bear quickly looked at him.

His eyes were wide. His mouth hung open.

There was a look of disgust on his face that they’ve never seen before.

“What’s th’matter?” Bear asked.

“Overload.” Don whispered.

The colors drained from Hondo’s face.

He turned around, and sure enough–entering the restaurant with Great Tiger by his side–was Octave Overload.

Don yanked Hondo back by the collar of his shirt, “Don’t make it obvious!” He hissed through his teeth.

He quickly let go of Hondo and hid his face in the menu, “Why didn’t you two tell me he was coming?!”

“I had no idea he was coming here.” Hondo whisper-shouted. The two men immediately whipped their heads over to Bear, who threw his hands up defensively.

“Don’t lookit me!”

“Did you offer that invitation to him again?!” Hondo asked.

“No! I didn’t know he was comin’ either, honest!”

Don peeked his eyes past the menu and narrowed them, “So then this is Tiger’s doing.”

The men watched Octave and Tiger from afar.

“I cannot believe him.” Don said, his hushed voice as cold as his glare, “That man should know how vile Overload is to be around, how miserable he is–how–how dreadful his mere presence is, yet he still brings him along?!”

“And he didn’t bother to tell us either.” Hondo said, “Almost as if he knew bringing Overload was a terrible idea.”

“C’mon, knock it off you two!” Bear cut in, “Yer actin’ like th’guy kicks puppies for a livin’. So he changed his mind bout wantin’ to join us for dinner, big deal! There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

Hondo watched as a waiter guided Overload and Tiger closer to their table. He scowled, “Forgive me for not wanting to sit by the man who lashes out over the tiniest of things–the same man who claimed death was a better option than going to this dinner.”

“Let us not pretend that Overload is the only issue here.” Don growled, “After tonight’s dinner, I will be giving Tiger a piece of my mind for making such a foolish decision, for jeopardizing our night, for being absolutely–” Don immediately slammed his menu down onto the table and plastered a big, bright smile on his face, “Tiger! Good evening! We were so worried you weren’t going to make it. And ah, Overload, what a pleasant surprise!”

“It’s wonderful to see you all tonight.” Tiger smiled as he approached the other men.

“Hey.” Octave said from behind.

“We are so sorry for the wait, I got a tiny bit lost while on my way to pick up Overload and–oh, it was such a mess, but we’re here now!” Tiger said as he flew right next to Hondo, leaving just enough room for Overload. The waiter slipped two extra menus onto the table before walking away.

“Oh, it’s all fine. I had no idea Overload would be joining us tonight!” Don’s smile was starting to get unnervingly wide.

Tiger felt his face go hot, “Yes, well, I was going to tell you three about it, truly, but I had gotten so wrapped up with my magic practice and helping Bull that it… It slipped my mind.”

Bear nervously glanced over to Don’s grip on the edge of the table. He swore that man was starting to crack the wood.

Bear quickly spoke up before things took a turn for the worst, “Hey, that’s alright Tiger! We’re just happy ya could make it. Th’same goes for ya too, Octave.”

“Thank you, Bear.” Tiger said as he used his magic to bring one of the menus over to him.

“Yea, thanks.” Octave sat beside Tiger, “Ey, Eyebrows, ya collar’s crooked.”

Hondo shot Octave a bitter look and huffed as he fixed his collar.

“Eyebrows?” Tiger repeated with a chuckle, “That’s one I haven’t heard before. Do you have nicknames like that for everyone?”

“Nah, Hondo’s just got that one recognizable trait bout him, ya know?” Octave said, “I got a li’l nickname for Disco too, though.”

“Oh, do you now? I’d love to know what that is.”

“Headache.”

“Oh, that’s terrible.” Yet despite saying that, Tiger couldn’t help but laugh. And Octave couldn’t help but smirk.

Tiger leaned a bit closer to Octave and started to point around the menu, suggesting some of his favorite meals and beverages while Octave nodded along. The other men remained silent as they watched them. Bear glanced at Hondo. If looks could kill, Tiger and Octave would’ve been dead then and there.

They couldn’t stay quiet forever, especially not while staring at Tiger and Octave. It’d make the night even more awkward, but what else could they talk about? What else could they possibly pretend to care about besides Overload coming in unannounced?

Luckily, the painful awkwardness didn’t last long as their waiter stopped by to drop off a basket of bread rolls, small plates, packets of butter, and their drinks.

As soon as Hondo got his tea, he plucked the lemon wedge off the rim and gave it to Bear, who happily squeezed that and his own lemon into his drink. The waiter then placed a wine glass in front of Don and started to uncork a fancy, pink bottle with beautifully painted clouds sprinkled along its exterior, but the second the waiter tried to pour it, Don grabbed the bottle by its neck.

“Actually, could I buy the entire bottle? I’m going to need it.”

The waiter was taken aback, but they nodded and set the bottle down before they asked Tiger and Octave if they decided on anything to drink yet.

“Raspberry lemonade for me.” Tiger hummed, “And what about you, Overload?”

Octave seemed to be staring at a certain drink on the menu, but he set it down and just said, “Water.”

The waiter nodded and walked off.

Octave heard Don mutter to Bear, “Of course he chose that.”

What the heck did that even mean?

Octave scrunched his nose and opened his mouth–but Bear quickly interrupted.

“Hey! Since we’re all here now, how bout I show ya that li’l surprise I’ve been teasin’ y’all bout?” He asked as he poured a couple of sugar packets into his tea.

“Yes, please do.” Don grinned as he grabbed a bread roll and placed it on his plate.

Tiger clasped his hands together, “Oh, is it another project of yours?”

“You could say that, yeah!” Bear said as he pushed the basket of bread and his drink aside, and pulled the bag out from under the table.

“Well, you always make the most delightful things. I’m looking forward to it!” Tiger said.

Octave just rested an arm on the table as he watched Bear dig through the tissue paper.

As they all waited, Hondo felt his body begin to tense again. He wasn’t sure why–there was no reason he should be getting tense–his friend’s just showing them something he’s worked hard on. Their ‘surprise’.

Hondo glanced at Don, who locked eyes with him for just a moment. Hondo thought back to that little paper crane they had saved from Overload. He thought about how he and Don had already spoiled themselves of this surprise, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from appreciating his friend’s work.

The fact that Bear taught himself origami–a craft that takes so much trial and error, one that is so easy to ruin by one wrong crease–all to express his love to his friends, was absolutely admirable. And Hondo was more than ready to return such love.

Hondo watched as Bear pulled out–

A glass bottle.

What.

Hondo blinked.

Was he seeing things correctly–his tea wasn’t spiked was it?

Before Hondo could check to see if that was a possibility, Bear slid the bottle over to him with a smile.

Hondo stared at it.

It was a round bottle–just a bit bigger than his hand–and its shape was far from perfect. Its base was a circle, but its edges were uneven and bumpy. There was a sakura flower engraved in the center, but its lines were crooked and wobbly. And the bottle itself was ever so slightly lopsided–leaning ever so slightly to the left.

Hondo observed every little imperfection of the bottle. He slowly ran his fingers across the glass, feeling the little bumps and curves along the way before he finally curled his fingers around its stubby neck where a small, pink piece of paper had been tied around it.

All these faults and flaws… Hondo loved them. He loved how much time, effort, and heart was visible on the bottle his friend made. It was marvelous.

Hondo tilted the bottle slightly, surprised to see liquid moving inside. He lifted it up higher and pointed it towards one of the bar’s lights, delighted to see syrup inside.

He then unfolded the little piece of paper, a soft smile spreading on his face as he read the words: ‘Thanks for being such a wonderful friend, Hondo’, with a couple of flowers doodled right beside it.

The bottle was wonderful, it really was. It just… Wasn’t what Hondo expected.

Hondo brought his eyes up to see Don observing his own bottle. It was long, narrow, about the length of his face, and it had a yellow piece of paper tied to its lid. Instead of an engraved flower, Don’s bottle had a lovely rose painted on it. He held it close to his chest with a satisfied expression on his face.

Then Bear took out Tiger’s bottle and slid it over to him. It was just a bit shorter than Don’s with an orange paper tied around its neck. The base was much more rectangular, and at the top and bottom of its body had thin, wavy, horizontal grooves. But unlike Don and Hondo’s, his didn’t have any syrup in it.

“I know y’ain’t big on sweets, Tiger, so I just left it empty. Feel free to add whatever ya like in that thing!”

“Oh, it’s divine.” Tiger said as he used his magic to hover the bottle into the air and tilt it in every direction he could, taking it every little detail.

“Yes, they’re all wonderful, Bear. Thank you, dearly.” Hondo nodded.

“I don’t mean to brag, but I believe mine far surpasses ‘wonderful’. I’d argue mine is the best bottle any man could lay their eyes on.” Don said with pride, raising his bottle into the air.

Hondo rolled his eyes, but his smile never wavered. Bear and Tiger just chuckled.

And then Bear glanced at Octave.

They stared at each other for just a moment before Octave looked the other way.

Bear’s cheeks went pink, “Sorry, Octave, I was plannin’ on givin’ ya yer bottle th’next time we saw each other in–”

“Don’t care. It’s fine.” Octave waved him off, not even bothering to face Bear again.

“Yeah, but I don’t wantcha feelin’ left out or somethin’. I feel mighty bad–if I had known ya were comin’--”

“It’s just some stupid syrup ‘n a bottle. I’ll live.”

It was silent. Then Hondo spoke.

“Did you… Make these yourself?”

Bear beamed, “Yea! I hadda take some workshop classes–and man, I had no idea how much work goes into this stuff! Ya think boxin’ makes ya sweat? Well, just ya wait until ya step into a furnace room–”

As Bear rambled away, Overload just sat there, looking everywhere but at the other boxers. He didn’t know what he could add to the conversation, honestly. He really only came here because of Tiger, not for the other guys. Anytime he talked to Hondo? It’d end in an argument. And anytime he talked to Don? It’d end with a million insults being thrown. So trying to deal with both of them? No thanks.

Bear Hugger wasn’t too bad to talk to, but he was loud. That guy couldn’t control his volume even if his life depended on it.

But tonight Bear wasn’t so bad. Heck, this bar wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be. It was much quieter than he expected, and it was a heck of a lot nicer than the bars he usually goes to with Aran.

There weren't that many people here, and the ones that were here weren’t all that annoying. No one scraping their utensils against their plates, no one licking their fingers–sure, there were a couple of loud talkers–but he couldn’t complain.

The look of this place wasn't half bad either.

There weren’t any tacky decorations. No stupid posters advertising no-named bands, no raunchy stickers slapped onto the wooden pillars, no bright, flashy fluorescent lights hanging around, no TVs placed in every corner of the bar–all with different channels that talked over each other–there were just the string lights and curtains.

Octave kinda wished more places had string lights, or at the very least, lights that weren’t bright enough to blind a man. He liked how gentle the glow of the lights were, he liked the orange hue they gave off, it sorta reminded him of the city during golden hour.

And the marigold curtains that separated their booth from the neighboring one? That’s perfect. Octave didn’t have to worry about peering behind him and accidentally see someone chewing with their mouths open or some other nasty crap. Not like there was anyone sitting at the booth next to them, but still. Why don’t more places have curtains like this?

Octave watched a waiter pass their table and go through a pair of double doors at the very end of the restaurant. Probably the kitchen.

Octave felt something nudge his shoulder. He looked over–surprised to see his warped reflection in Tiger’s bottle staring right back at him.

“Have you decided what you’re going to eat, Overload?” Tiger asked as he flew the bottle out of Overload’s face.

“Probably a burger or somethin’. What was that one thing ya recommended again?” Octave asked, but before Tiger could answer, he pointed to Tiger’s bottle, “Can I see that?”

Tiger thought to himself for a moment before flying it into Octave’s hand.

“Just be careful.” Tiger said as he flipped the menu back open, “And I had recommended their spicy teriyaki bowl. It’s not as greasy as their other meals here, the kick is quite nice, and it’s always–what are you doing?” Tiger tilted his head as he watched Overload peer through the bottle while holding it at an angle.

“Checkin’ out Don.” Octave said quietly, a smirk on his face, “If ya look at him through th’bottle, his nose gets bout fifty times longer.”

Octave saw the raised brow Tiger gave him.

“I’m serious, look for ya self!”

Tiger flew the bottle back over to him, keeping it at the exact angle Overload did, and looked at Don through the glass–

He suddenly let out a loud sputter and slapped his hand over his mouth. Don, Hondo, and Bear stopped talking and stared at him.

“Are you… Alright?” Hondo asked, occasionally shooting a glare at Overload, who kept that smug little smile on his face.

“Yes. Yes. I’m very fine. I’m fine. I promise. Yes.” Tiger said as he buried his face in his hands. He felt ridiculous for nearly falling into shambles over something so childish, but the image of Don’s face being 70% nose was ruining him.

As Tiger tried to piece himself together, Hondo, Bear, and Don returned to their conversation.

“Anyways, I–shoot. Shoot, what were we talkin’ bout? It’s on th’tip of my tongue.” Bear snapped his fingers.

“Your cuts.” Hondo stated.

“Right! Those.” Bear showed off the couple of bandaids still wrapped around his fingers, “Yeah, I got those when I dropped one of th’glass bottles I brought home.” Bear reached for a bread roll and sliced it open with a butterknife, “I started to freak out cause I didn’t want any of my critters runnin’ over ‘n tryna grab any broken glass, so I scrambled ‘n quickly picked ‘em up.” He then opened a little packet of spreadable butter, “Course, that led to a million li’l glass pieces stabbin’ me in th’hand.”

Hondo and Don cringed at the imagery.

“But I’m all good now! Hands are nearly healed.” Bear smiled as he spread the butter into his roll.

“Look at you, risking your wellbeing just for us.” Don said, gesturing towards Bear with his bottle, “I know if I had broken one of my handmade gifts for Carmen, I would’ve spent the rest of the week weeping away.”

“Oh, trust me. I definitely cried afterwards. Like, a lot.” Bear said before shoving half of the roll into his mouth.

“We appreciate your hard work and sacrifices, Bear. I couldn’t imagine the Major Circuit without your joy.” Tiger added, the other men nodded in agreement. Bear couldn’t help but blush.

“You know what else I would appreciate?” Don asked, tapping his foot impatiently, “A waiter coming over to take our order. There’s hardly anyone else here, the wait should not be this long.”

“It’s been, like, five minutes, Donny. A li’l bit of a wait ain’t gonna kill ya.” Octave muttered. He had his eyes locked on Don’s stupid foot. It peeked just past the edge of the table, letting Octave see the way it kept bouncing up and down. Over and over.

He grit his teeth and scooted closer to Tiger. Luckily, that was enough to get Don’s foot out of sight.

Bear swallowed and stared at Overload.

He then gently nudged Hondo.

Hondo looked over to see Bear wearing a ‘Please try and talk to Octave’ look on his face. Hondo frowned.

“So, Overload,” Hondo said, his words clearly forced, “That’s… A nice suit you’re wearing. Where did you get it?”

“Oh yeah?” Octave leaned back, “Thanks. Stole it from some guy in an alley.”

Hondo widened his eyes.

“I’m jokin’, Pisty. Jeez.”

Tiger perked up, “Actually, while we were walking over here, Overload told me about the store where he got this suit from. Oh, what was it called again?” He stroked his beard.

Octave’s eyes darted around to the other boxers, who were now all staring at him.

“Klasik’s.” He said. He could see Don tapping his fingers impatiently.

“Yes, that’s right!” Tiger smiled, “Apparently it sells a lot of fancy looking outfits for quite a fair price…”

Octave could still see Don tapping. His hands started to get sweaty.

“...They have old hats, robes, Overload even found a pair of old boxing gloves there once! And…”

He didn’t want to snap at Don. Not tonight. Not in front of Tiger. So Octave grabbed a part of his hair and used it to cover his eye, blocking Don from his view. He could still hear him, but at least he didn’t have to see him.

“...They also sell–was it furniture? Am I misremembering?” Tiger asked.

“No, yeah.” Octave’s voice came out stilted and stiff, “Yeah, they gotta couple of old phones ‘n radios. They got an old washin’ machine. Looks freaky. They don’t got it for sale, though. Just for show.”

“So it’s like a thrift store kinda?” Bear asked.

“Do you have anything else you can talk about that isn’t about a washing machine, Overload? Something actually interesting?” He heard Don sneer.

“Hey, I love me a good thrift store!” Bear smiled as he shoved the other half of his roll into his mouth, “Hondo ‘n I went to one a couple’a days ago. It’s where I got this li’l acorn pin.”

“Uh-huh.” Octave immediately clutched at his hair. That was disgusting. That was real disgusting. Bear just chewing like that–his mouth open, those wet sounds, it was so disgusting. Was no one else bothered by this?

Octave saw the judgmental look Hondo was giving him. He tried to act casual–he propped his arm up on the table while still gripping onto his hair, trying to ignore Bear’s nasty noises.

“We should go to that store together one day, Overload.” Tiger suggested.

“Yeah?” Octave swallowed. Was Don’s tapping getting louder? Or was he just losing his marbles? Was Don even tapping anymore? He didn’t want to look.

“Well, if they sell a suit as nice as that, I’m sure there’s plenty more interesting things they have in stock.”

Octave just nodded. He didn’t want to look at Bear either. He wanted to look anywhere else. But he was talking to Tiger. Tiger was staring right at him. He couldn’t just look away, then everyone will get all up in arms about how much of a jerk he is or whatever.

Tiger was still talking, but Octave wasn’t paying attention anymore. If he wasn’t focusing on Don’s obnoxious tapping, then he was fixated on Bear’s lip smacking.

No one else was commenting on the sounds they were making. Was he the only one noticing them? Was he hearing things?

Octave’s eyes kept darting from Tiger’s face to Bear’s. His heart was racing.

‘Just focus on th’conversation, ya dolt.’ He told himself. But he couldn’t.

What’s wrong with him? Was it that hard to ignore all these sounds?

Why can’t he just push through for this one night?

Why can’t he just block sounds out like everyone else?

‘Tiger’s lookin’ at ya funny.’

Octave put his focus back on Tiger. He still wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. But Tiger did look… Concerned? Weirded out?

Octave glanced over to Hondo, who was also giving him a strange look.

Octave’s grip on his hair got tighter. He started to pull on it. He was probably gonna rip a chunk off soon. He was probably gonna make himself bald like Don.

Octave forced himself to nod and mutter an ‘Uh-huh’ to whatever it was Tiger just said.

He wanted to talk to Tiger. He really did. Tonight he finally has the chance to talk to Tiger without being interrupted by Aran, without having to use his phone, and he didn’t want to let some stupid sounds ruin it for him.

He wasn’t going to let Hondo, Bear, or Don’s stupid, sour attitudes ruin it for him.

If they could just shut up, then he could actually focus on the conversation.

Tiger kept talking.

Don kept tapping.

Bear kept eating.

Hondo started to drag his fingers across the sleeves of his shirt, creating an awful, coarse sound. Like someone scraping their nails across sandpaper.

Octave dug his nails into his head.

He held his breath.

His heart kept racing.

A part of him wanted to storm out and leave.

But he wanted to stay here. For Tiger.

If Don just stopped tapping, that’d make things so much better.

If he just stopped tapping.

If he just–

Octave suddenly shot his arm out and grabbed Don’s hand, surprising everyone.

Octave whipped his head over and stared at his hand that was crushing Don’s.

He then looked up at Don, who had a look of repulsion on his face.

“Is there a problem, Overload?” Don hissed.

Octave quickly let go and wiped his hands on his pants, “No–look, you were just tappin’ ‘n–”

“Tapping?!” Don snapped, “Is that your excuse for putting your hands on me? Something so insignificant?”

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t know havin’ a reaction to somethin’ was a crime!” Octave shot back.

“Hey, c’mon guys–” Bear raised his hands, “Octave, ya don’t gotta go ‘n grab people, but Don if he don’t like the tappin–”

“No!” Don said, shooting a cold glare at Bear, “We cannot let this sort of behavior from him constantly slide! Don’t you see what Overload is doing?! He’s using such trivial reasons to insult us! To belittle us!” He lowered his voice, “I can tolerate this behavior in the ring, but outside of it? On our night together?”

“Hey it ain’t my fault most of ya schmucks can’t put in th’effort to pipe down for more than half a second!” Octave pointed at Don. Tiger opened his mouth to speak, but Don spoke up again.

“Oh, get over it. A professional boxer, yet you still throw a tantrum over a little bit of noise. How are you not embarrassed of yourself?”

“Big talk comin’ from th’guy who breaks into tears over his stupid hair flyin’ off!” Octave jabbed a finger into Don’s chest.

Hondo watched as the two men went back and forth, their voices getting louder and louder with each insult thrown.

He held his head in his hands and stared at the table, trying to block them out, praying that this bickering would end soon. But he could still see their reflections on the table’s surface. He could still hear their voices echo in his head.

Why? Why, why, why did Overload have to come here?

If he knew he hated noise–if he knew they were noisy–why did he come along?

Why is he so foul? Why couldn’t he at least pretend to be decent for just one night?

Hondo gripped at his headband as the men grew even louder.

There were so many things Hondo wished he could say to Overload. There were so many things to criticize, he didn’t even know where he’d start.

If Hondo wasn’t so patient, if he wasn’t so controlled, oh, how he’d love to get up and ask–

Don shot up from his seat and shouted, “Why did you even come here if you just wanted to ruin our night!?”

“BECAUSE–!” Octave shouted, but he shut up when he saw people staring.

He looked over to Tiger, who stared at him. Shocked and wide eyed.

Octave’s hands curled to fists as his face grew hot.

He cussed under his breath and stormed away from the booth.

“Overload–” Tiger tried to reach out to Octave, but Hondo put a hand on his shoulder. Tiger’s gem flashed before he looked over to his friend.

“It is alright, Tiger.” Hondo said as he let go, “We appreciate you trying to connect with Overload, but…”

“He isn’t worth the effort.” Don snarled as he sat back down.

Tiger stared at the other boxers. They all looked miserable in their own ways.

Bear seemed embarrassed, Hondo had a disapproving scowl on his face, and Don seemed absolutely fed up with everything that’s happened tonight. Tiger was more than certain that if he went after Overload, their moods would only worsen.

So here he stayed.

#punch out #punch out oc #punch out bear hugger #punch out piston hondo #punch out don flamenco #punch out great tiger #fic #art #HOPE U ALL ENJOY!!!#[thank u all for tha patience...]#punch out wii #punch out!!

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maximoffhimbo · 2 years

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Charade Of Crime .3

Summary: You were known throughout the crime world. You were the deadliest criminal there was. So why was a sweet girl like Wanda Maximoff addicted to you? Your work was violent, gory and very often dangerous. Not just for you but everyone involved.

Warnings: kidnapping?? fluff, soft reader, injury.

It had been exactly six days since Wanda’s encounter with you. She still couldn’t believe what had happened; the killing, the dead body and especially you. Her mind raced with thoughts of when she’d see you again. She knew it was stupid to get involved with you but she was past the point of no return. Right?

It felt like you had just disappeared. After you finished fucking Wanda you let your security guards take her home. That was the thing about you that Wanda couldn’t understand. Where did you go? Where did you hide? Why did you hide?

As Wanda sat in her bedroom she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the guy you killed. Why was he trying to poison you? How were you able to end someone’s life so nonchalantly?

Days passed and Wanda still thought about you. She wondered if you thought about her. She couldn’t get the thought of you out of her head. She felt like a lovesick fool. Obviously she didn’t love you though. Right? As the days passed Wanda began to slowly stop thinking about you as much. You began to feel like a dream. That was until your name was being said on every news network. It felt like everyday Wanda heard y/n y/l/n. You seemed to be putting yourself at risk a lot more. There also seemed to be a lot more pictures of you on the internet. God you looked tired. Wanda could tell you hadn’t been looking after yourself; your hair was messy and unkempt, your eyes were baggy with obvious dark circles, and your knuckles…Your knuckles were black and blue. Wounds seemed to always appear on your hands. Wanda knew this was from fighting, obviously. Even though you looked a little disheveled, Wanda couldn’t help being even more attracted to you. Your rouged appearance and aura were enough to entice anyone. As the pictures got clearer of you Wanda slowly began to memorise your tattoos. The ones on your hands that she hasn’t noticed before. You had the words ‘look’ and ‘away’ across your knuckles, you also had a tiger's face on the back of your left hand. The tiger had red eyes while the rest of it was black and grey.

Wanda felt like a schoolgirl with a pathetic crush. She watched the news like a hawk. Everyday she’d turn it on and it felt like everyday you’d be there. Waiting for her. One News article however caught her attention. You were in some sort of boxing gym, punching and punching some heavy bag.

“The leader of the Lace Threats has been seen in lower Manhattan at a boxing club.” The new anchor read as if aliens had just been discovered.

“This is the first time we’ve been able to see y/n y/l/n in pictures of this quality.”

Wanda was mesmerised. The pictures were practically crystal clear. She could see every vein pulsing from your clearly vigorous workout. She could see the sweat beads falling from your hairline. She was instantly taken back to the night you took her. She desperately wanted you to take her again. Even if all she was was a plaything for your perverted games.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

One day all pictures and videos of you disappeared from the internet. Wanda was quick to notice because she practically spent her entire day scrolling through pictures of you. When she was working she was gawking at the high quality photos she had of you. It was almost like you had been completely wiped from the internet.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Wanda was walking through downtown Manhattan. She has just finished her shift at the coffee shop and was making her way home to hers and Natasha’s apartment. It was pitch black, luckily Wanda knew the streets like the back of her hand. Plus the street lights and advertisements lit up the dark path home. Wanda couldn’t shake a feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt like she was being watched. She shook it off and kept walking. As she turned on to another block she saw two large men in front of her. As she turned to look behind her she saw another large man. Panic began to set in. Wanda had been to a few self defence classes but this was definitely not taught. She knew how to escape one attacker but three? Suddenly a black Mercedes pulled up alongside her. As the three men drew closer Wanda began to shake. Fear had well and truly set in now. She couldn’t move, she was frozen in place.

The car door opened and none other than you stood out. Wanda slightly relaxed but her mind still screamed at her that you were a criminal. A killer. You'd killed before so what’s to say you wouldn’t kill her?

“I don’t believe I ever actually caught your name” you said with a devilish smirk.

Wanda stood shaking and you quickly noticed. Your rough exterior loosened slightly. You approached her and ordered your men to get back into their vehicles. “I need you to get into the car” you said as you stood looking into the girls eyes.

“Please don’t hurt me” Wanda managed to sob out.

Her eyes began to fill with unshed tears.

“Get in the car. Please?” You said.

Wanda obliged. She couldn’t run. There were probably tons more security guards hidden around here. As she got into the car she immediately noticed the smell of tobacco. Yep this was definitely your car. You climbed into the back with her, your eyes remained glued forwards. The car sped off into the night. Wanda felt like she’d been in that car for hours.

Eventually the car pulled into an underground parking lot. Was this where Wanda was going to die? Oh god she thought. The car kept driving however. A small opening was slid open by two of your awaiting bodyguards. This was clearly your hideout. The car eventually came to a stop. You climbed out of the car and made your way around to Wanda’s side. “Follow me” you said as you opened her door. Wanda walked quietly behind you as you made your way through the dimly lit hallway. The floor was tarmac and there were pipes on the walls and the ceiling. Was this seriously your home? Wanda thought. At the end of the hallway you pushed a button and an elevator opened. You made sure Wanda stepped foot in first in case she decided to bolt. You pushed number twelve and the two of you began to ascend. Wanda was still shaking, she felt as if you were just dragging out her inevitable death.

Once the doors opened Wanda was completely speechless. It was a loft apartment. A big one. The floors were grey and the walls were floor to ceiling windows of the harbour. Wanda walked behind you as you typed something in on a device set on the wall.

“W-what are you doing?” Wanda asked hesitantly.

“Oh I’m just adjusting the heating” you said dorkily.

Wanda felt a lot more comfortable in your presence as she watched you make your way over to a sofa positioned in front of a tv.

“Sit” you said whilst patting the seat next to you.

Wanda slowly made her way over to you and took a seat.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here, right?” Wanda nodded. “Well someone has been stalking me. You might’ve noticed all of the pictures of me appearing on the internet. They knew about the bartender I killed. The one that attempted to poison me. I don’t know how but the Racktor filths found out. I suppose he was affiliated with them. They’re angry. I killed their so-called leader so clearly they’re out for me more than ever.” You said while almost snarling. “You were the only stranger who witnessed what happened that night. Tell me, did you speak of it to anyone?” Wanda quickly shook her head. “N-no! I would never I swear” you stood up and made your way over to a drinks cabinet next to one of your floor to ceiling windows. “You never told me your name,” you said while pouring yourself a drink.

“Wanda.”

“Wanda people want to kill me, you understand?” Wanda nodded. “People would pay to see my head on a stick. So I need to know whether you told anyone.” Wanda stood from her seat, tears filled her eyes again. “I really didn’t tell anyone. I-I’d tell you if I did.” You looked Wanda up and down and sighed. “Well that means one of my men…” You took a deep breathe and clenched your jaw “…Is a mole.” You slammed your drink down, causing the glass to smash and cut your palm. You winced in pain. Wanda cautiously made her way over to you. “Are you okay?” She said while looking at your injured hand. “I-I’m okay” you said while a single tear slid down your cheek. Wanda was taken aback. The leader, the dangerous gang boss of New York just shed a tear. Wanda came closer to you and gently took your hand. You snatched it away following it by a loud wince of pain. “L-let me help you” Wanda said while motioning for you to sit down. You obliged and made your way over to your sofa. Wanda stared down at your hand, she took in the curvature of your fingers, the way your knuckles seemed to immediately tense whenever her hand drew closer. You made eye contact with Wanda, you snapped your gaze towards the floor. “There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen, on the counter” you said, your voice deep and husky. Clearly exhausted. Wanda made her way into the kitchen, since the apartment was open plan the kitchen stood just behind where the two of you had been sitting.

As Wanda stood in the kitchen she couldn’t help feeling sad for you. You were clearly tired. Beyond tired. Your voice was hoarse and you clearly bottled up your emotions given the fact that you only let one tear slide down your bruised cheek. Wanda cautiously made her way back over to you, your hand was shaking and you were biting your lip to hold back the sounds that were begging to escape your mouth. Wanda began to clean your hand. For some reason it didn’t hurt. The way Wanda’s nose scrunched and her eyebrows furrowed were like instant pain relief to you. “All done” you looked down at your now completely bandaged hand. It was almost like you had been hypnotised by Wanda.

She helped you to stand up and luckily Wanda’s magic pain relief seemed to still be working. You looked into Wanda’s eyes and could clearly still see a small amount of fear coursing through them. You shook your head and moved away from her. “It’s safer if you stay here” you said nonchalantly. Wanda looked skeptical. “Down the hall to the left there’s a spare room and an ensuite.” You motioned your hand past her head. “If you need me my bedroom is just past the kitchen. On the right.” Wanda was staying at one end of your apartment and you were staying on the other. That at least made her feel better.

Wanda couldn’t shake the feelings she had for you. Even after this whole ordeal she still felt drawn to you. Your presence made her feel safe yet scared at the same time. You both bid each other goodnight and retreated to your separate sides of the apartment.

Wanda decided to get in the shower, she’d had an insanely weird day and she just needed to let herself relax under the warm water. As she entered the bedroom she was staying in she couldn’t help her jaw dropping. The bedroom was exactly how she imagined. The bed was a dark grey colour, covered in similar black, grey and white sheets. The walls were white with small orange lights that illuminated the dark bed perfectly. In front of the bed was the door to the bathroom. Wanda made her way in and marvelled at how uniquely you the bathroom was. The floor was covered in dark green tile while the shower itself was copper with gorgeous warm lights, similar to the bedroom.

As Wanda began to take her clothes off she looked around for a towel. No towels could be seen. “God damn it” she said under her breath. She slipped her clothes back on quickly and tiptoed out of the room and made her way to your bedroom. She stood outside and peered in, the door was ajar slightly so she could just see your clothes laid out on the bed. You walked to the side of your bed and Wanda watched you intently. Wanda thought that your pyjamas were extremely cute. You wore a light blue oversized t-shirt that passed your elbows, and a pair of white Calvin Klein boxers. You folded your clothes up precisely and put them on a chair. Once Wanda had watched you move over to your bed she knocked.

“Yes?” You said hesitantly.

“I umm I need a towel for the shower. I’m really sorry for bothering you” Wanda said as she turned to walk away. The door suddenly opened and she was met by your sleepy y/e/c eyes. You held a towel out to her and smiled sleepily. Wanda took the towel and nodded her head out of appreciation.

“Wanda!” You called as she was halfway down the hallway. She turned to look at you. “Don’t say sorry for needing something” you said before closing your door. Wanda chuckled to herself and made her way back to the shower.

This was the weirdest night of Wanda’s life.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

As you climbed into your large king size bed you gazed at your bandaged hand. A smile crept onto your face as you thought about Wanda’s eyes. Usually whenever you’d fuck a girl it was just to get anger out or relieve stress. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about her after your meeting in the club. She was on your mind 24/7. You were mesmerised by her, but your life was dangerous. She didn’t deserve to be dragged into such a lifestyle, and she certainly didn’t deserve to witness the shit you did. However you couldn’t help yourself from imagining having someone to come home to. Having someone you could fully trust. You fell asleep imagining Wanda’s hands intertwined with yours.

As Wanda climbed into her equally large bed she pulled the covers up to cover her cold body. She’d slipped her underwear back on with her t-shirt, however the room was still freezing. She tossed and turned until she couldn’t take it anymore, she grabbed her phone from beside her head and checked the time. Three AM. Fuck. Wanda moved the covers from her body and made her way out of the room and down the hallway. Where was that thermometer thingy? She made her way into the living area and found the device on the wall. Password protected; great she thought. Suddenly a noise came from your bedroom and she heard gentle footsteps coming down the hallway. When you both saw each other you stood staring into each other’s eyes. You cleared your throat and moved to the thermometer.

“Cold, huh?” You said with a single chuckle. You kept rubbing your eyes and Wanda thought you looked absolutely adorable.

Wanda blushed seeing your messy hair and half open eyes. She watched you put a long number into the device combined with a fingerprint. Once you had turned the temperature up you turned to Wanda and moved closer.

“Sleep well Wanda” you said as you hesitantly kissed her cheek. Wanda blushed as she watched you shuffle back to your bedroom. She brought her hand to her cheek and smiled gently. God you were so perfect.

#wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda mcu #wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda x y/n #wanda my beloved #mommy wanda #wanda imagine

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ingen18 · 3 months

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And she lived.

Rita Castillo is a fierce woman, a tigeress in the hostile society of late 1949 Los Angeles. In the eyes of the people, she's unstoppable... but that was until the news of her "killing" her now ex-husband, Carlo Castillo came out. All came crashing down for the once famous Rita Castillo. Well, she did became infamous, even got labeled as the "Black Widow" killer in the front headlines of the newpaper. But that was all in the past now all because of a certain woman named Alma Fillcot. She was nothing compared to the monumental image of Rita Castillo. But, alas, from nothing did all the things came to be. She climbed her way all through the top of the social pyramid ladder, and thanks to her now ex-husband, she got there fast. Subsequently, she also brought the demise of the Rita Castillo. It all seemed perfect... not until that fateful rainy night. It was dark, about after 8 pm, but the city is bustling with the loud cheers and bright lights from the Chez Magnifique. It was the presidential inauguration for the prestigous Elysian Park Garden Club after all, and unsurprisingly, Alma was to be inaugurated. But before all that happens, of course, disasters stucks. A dead woman in the alley. That's what she faintly heard as she slips back and forth from consciousness. What the hell made her get in this exact position, she thought. Well, she's lived a long and quite adventurous life after all. From being a beaten-up houswife then a prostitute to sustain herself and her cousin, Rita never had it easy. She had to be a tiger, a fierce predator, and that definably, made her a common enemy. She knew at least from all the people she's stepped on, at least one would have fought back. But for heaven's sake, dying in an alley was something she never expected. To make it worst, she was dying as hated, poor, and lonely woman dressed in a commoner's clothes. She can feel it, the blood, pooling beneath her porcelain-skinned face. She can hear the metal backdoor opening but she can barely make figure of who was coming out, but she knows that there's a lot of people coming out that door. Everything seemed distant, the crowd, the noise, and for once, she thought to herself, is this how peace feels like? The feeling of being detached, wherein there's no prying eyes always looking. She wanted to chase that feeling, to just simply let go of life. It was tempting, for sure, but being the person that she is, she refuses to let go without a fight. If she's going down, she wants every bitch who attacked her to go down with her, most especially, Alma Fillcot. But how the hell would she do that if she can't even move her own muscles. For god's sake, even thinking about how to fix this mess is becoming a challenge for her. The noise is increasing and everything is coming out as a blur. She can hear distant murmurs and she can see people crouching down to look at her. Oh, how she hates being looked down at, the pity and shame was something she can never stomach. But all that went away when she saw blue and red flashing lights. Men in white were rushing towards her, holding something. Then the next thing she knows was that one man was talking to her. "Miss, can you hear me?" Idiot, she thought to herself. Despite how much she would like to answer that idiotic question, all that she could offer was a small grunt. Everything was slowly growing darker and a few moments after that so-called interaction, she was already rested on top of stretcher, oxygen mask placed on her as she is being rushed inside the ambulance. The ride was fairly smooth aside from the constant ringing in her head from all the irritating noise (and the constant "encouragement" from the responders for her to "stay with them"). To say the least, everything hurt and the pressure from her stab wounds made it a lot worst. She doesn't know how far longer she could hold on, what's far worst is that she can slowly feel the panic sinking in as she can't actually move her body, be in control of herself. For once, it was all too much for her, she doesn't know anymore.

#lana is our queen #1950s #why women kill #rita castillo

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marvelousmop · 4 months

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Mop's 2023

So, what have I gotten up to this year? Let's talk about this for far too long.

Jenny Over-There:

(Art by the [Complimentary Adjective] @aristidetwain)

Despite my initial assumption that Jenny Over-There would just be a one-off character I'd never used again, "Jenny Over-There - The 925 Universe" went on with five main-line stories, + 1 spinoff in the form of The Rhino Tower, and +2 Appearances in Arcbeatle Press Anthologies (The Cosmology of Sherlock Holmes and, more recently Coloth: Book of the Snowstorm)!

Over the course of the year, she's been relented to several frustrating situations including phone calls, a fake kidnapping (which I suppose is a step up from the real kidnapping that happened earlier), taking up the Man in Grey's job for the day and, worst of all, being relegated to the role of Side-Character in Lawyers and Tigers and Bears.

Speaking of, that Man in Grey sure did go through some developments, didn't he... There's some domino meme you could make that starts off with "Writing a novelisation featuring bootleg Cybermen" and ends with "Writing a human-presenting entity dating a giant humanoid mantis man"... Good for him!

The weirdest consequence of this has to be how this affected Doctor Know-It-All's character, since, in the Oz series, Professor Wogglebug is enlarged by a character named "Professor Nowitall" which, you may notice, is basically the same name... so Doctor Know-It-All is the Wogglebug's adoptive father now. Good for him! But this also changed the Professor's standing in Oz society, somewhat, since Oz does tend to put magic users in higher positions of power, which lead to the retcon in Lawyers and Tigers and Bears where it's revealed the Professor basically just asked his father to undo his banishment (as seen in A Series of Queer Events). Good golly.

Jenny Everywhere:

For the first time, I wrote about the OG Jenny in celebration of Jenny Everywhere Day! While The Rhino Tower features quite a few connections to the 925 Universe (featuring the 925 Universe's Jenny Everywhere, the Conan parody rendition of Grant Farrel/Thor, and even Albrecht D. Whipple, while not actually being from the 925 universe, is the nephew of the wizard cult leader, Artemas H. Whipple), I intended it to be readable without that knowledge.

Similarly, while it is a loose parody of the Conan story The Elephant in the Tower, it very much can be read without knowing that story (or indeed some of the other stories it references, including The Alchemist by H.P. Lovecraft, and The Black Tower by R.H. Barlow, the latter of which I wouldn't even reasonably expect anyone to get).

Also, I did a cover for it! Don't know where that blast of mild artistry came from, but I do know I haven't seen it since.

Work that has actually seen a competent editor:

While my talents certainly haven't gotten me far this year, I can always depend on Arcbeatle Press. For the April Fools anthology The Cosmology of Sherlock, I contributed two segments: Sherlock Versus Herlock (wherein Sherlock Holmes and Watson encounter Herlock Sholmes and Wilson) and Dark Dealings (wherein Watson takes a sponsorship deal from the Man in Grey - this was also referenced in Annals of the Jen).

More recently, I wrote the story Jenny Over-There's Wonderful Life for the anthology Coloth: The Book of the Snowstorm, wherein Jenny encounters a slightly overzealous angel who shows her just what the world would be like if she was gone (and if you think that sounds unoriginal, don't worry, I'm still working on a Christmas Carol pastiche).

I also contributed two pieces to the The Crew of the Copper Colored Cupids series: Crash Bang Wallop (a very very very very loose Fight Club parody - more of the book's writing style than anything), and Cupid Fact File - 150 Chaotic Crew of the Copper-Colored Cupids Chortlers (inspired by a video I saw of this terrible joke book claiming to somehow have "Over 150 Great Pizza Jokes" - you can tell they were really stumped on how to live up to this promise, since three of the jokes have the premise of throwing a pizza into a lake, with the punchline being a lake pun).

What's Next?

I wasn't joking about doing a Christmas Carol retelling, I am writing that one... and it's going to be a big one. And it's not really Christmas-related (unlike last year's "A Very Jenny Over-There Christmas"), so I feel comfortable just releasing it whenever it's finished. Hopefully soon.

It's also been advertised in the back of a few Arcbeatle Press books at this point, so I guess I can comfortably say that I have written for Academy 27 Season 2! I won't say much about this story, except for it being a sequel to "Hall Pass".

Of course, I never plan too far, but I do have hopes for what 2024 will bring. I hope I get to work with more of the wonderful associates I've met since I started writing professionally, and I hope I get to know some of the newer faces that have popped up recently. I hope I stay creative, even as my life gets busier, and I hope this output reaches people and they enjoy it. I know there's such a thing as just writing for yourself, but also I do want my work to be seen by an understandably small audience that gets a quick chuckle. I hope I read more, and I hope that the price for miscellaneous baked goods goes down.

Happy New Year (but only to people who could be bothered to read this far)!

#my writing #mop's inane ramblings #possibly the inanest rambling I've ever done #925 universe #jenny everywhere #jenny over there #arcbeatle press #the crew of the copper colored cupids #Academy 27

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millenniumbreak · 1 year

Note

hi i really enjoyed your quiz & was pleasantly suprised by the song rec in the result! i wanted to ask if you could list all of them? i would love 31 more songs to check out and also which characters they corresponded to

Yeah for sure! I already put this together for someone on the F@tT discord who asked the same, so its no trouble!

And then list of characters with corresponding songs:

Hazard - Comeback Kid - Sharon Van Etten Chine - Egg and Soldiers - Cosmo Sheldrake Virtue - Death is a Girl - Mini Mansions Darling - Teeth - Working Men's Club Duvall - Telex - Blank Ritual Pickman - Polk Salad Annie (Live) - Elvis Presley Marn - I Opened A Bar - Sophie Hunger Es - A Hero's Death - Fontaines D.C. Lyke - There Is Still Pain Left - Sophie Hunger Dyre - Beachland Ballroom - IDLES It- Daddy Was A Wolfman - Son Of Dave Bucho - Brass Bell - Screaming Females Alakest - Everest - Public Service Broadcasting Uno - The Circus or The Zoo - The Tiger and Me Dayward - Just Like You - Viagra Boys Calen - Don't You Just Set The World Alight? - The Tiger and Me Aterika - Into the Sun - Viagra Boys Appletun - Group Autogenics I - The Books Janek - The Old-Style Raiders - Jamie T Kerr - I Was Gonna Fight Fascism - Soccer96 Ana - Capsized - Andrew Bird Ravening - Black Shuck - The Darkness Chantilly - Common Thief - The Tiger and Me Katonya - Travelling Light - Leonard Cohen Agdeline - Blood on Your Bootheels - Caroline Rose Ettel and Larch - LIVE 'N DANGEROUS II - GEE TEE Fendleton - Skeleton Song - Kate Nash Marisha - Serve Somebody - VULFPECK Collette - White Privilege (Live at Glastonbury 2022) - IDLES Lenore - Steer Your Way - Leonard Cohen Mr Kenson - DOGCULTURE - Whitey Jolyon - Great Depression - Chanteclaire

#that said alot of it leans like. rock/post punk/punk #so if you were looking for similar to andrew bird would probably only rec. sophie hunger and sharon van etten off this list.#and cohen but cohen's got universal appeal #also hardest picks were definitely for pickman and duvall. duvall i was stumped on until i listend to austin's palisade playlist

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ebp-brain · 1 year

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chapter 10 on ao3

1985, London. The wizarding queer art scene revolves around a gallery called the Bent, where conceptual artist Remus Lupin and photographer Sirius Black exhibit their works, and a club called the Bush, where they spend time with Jane and Lily Potter, who work at a nearby heath clinic. Although war with Voldemort was averted, the wizarding world is still simmering with tension. In the face of increasing intolerance and calls for censorship, Remus’ art takes a riskier, more political turn, and he must figure out how to balance self-expression and safety. Also, he might be falling in love with his best friend.

Author's notes on ch. 10:

Part of this chapter deals with legal action being taken against Benjy Fenwick’s porn shop. This was something that really happened in the period, not just with porn shops but queer bookstores more generally. Perhaps the most famous instance of this in Britain was “Operation Tiger.” In 1984, Customs raided Gay’s the Word, a queer bookshop in Bloomsbury founded in 1979. They seized a substantial amount of stock and charged them with importing indecent materials. Graham McKerrow, the co-founder of the London newspaper Capital Gay and a coordinator of the shop’s defense fund, describes what happened next:

“Over the two years following Operation Tiger, Customs detained thousands of volumes of hundreds of queer titles – newspapers, magazines, history, biography, autobiography, politics, sociology, humour, books for young people, health guides, sex guides, counselling guides, books about Aids, contemporary fiction, erotic fiction, drama and poetry – imported mostly from the US and destined for queer, radical and left-wing bookshops, mail order businesses, the Gay Christian Movement and the London International Feminist Book Fair. Customs staff were seizing books and newspapers from the port of Dover on the south coast to Prestwick airport in Scotland. Essentially Gay, a mail order service, was put out of business by Customs’ seizure of its books. None of the other businesses went to court to challenge the seizure notices because they couldn’t afford to, or they had no faith that the courts would give them a fair hearing. Only Gay’s the Word decided it would launch a campaign and ask for donations so it could fight for the right to import books. […]

"When the bookshop declared it would raise the money, go to court and campaign to have Customs’ extensive powers of search and seizure brought into line with police powers, which are supervised by the courts, Customs responded by bringing exactly 100 charges against the nine staff and volunteer directors alleging that they had conspired to import indecent or obscene material, and carrying a penalty of up to life in prison and fines. […]

"The defence campaign hired two co-ordinators, of which I was one, to intensify and expand the campaign but suddenly in June, following a judgment by the European court about the importation of sex dolls and a change of the minister responsible for Customs and Excise, the charges were dropped and 123 titles were returned to Gay’s the Word, and 19 titles that Customs claimed were obscene were sent back to the supplier in the US. Copies of The Joy of Gay Sex were returned to the Gay Christian Movement. None of the books seized from Gay’s the Word was destroyed, no-one was fined or jailed, but there was no compensation either and Customs retains to this day the right to enter any building by force and search and seize any goods liable to forfeiture.”

Here's some more reading on Gay’s the Word:

25th anniversary of the raid on Gay's the Word

Gay's the Word: The little LGBTQ bookstore that refused to be beaten

"Saving Gay’s the Word: the campaign to protect a bookshop and the right to import queer literature" from Queer Between the Covers: Histories of Queer Publishing and Publishing Queer Voices

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #remus x sirius #harry potter #harry potter fic #bent posting #my fic #earlybloomingparentheses

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pentanguine · 8 months

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Sundry reflections

I love my new job, but holy shit I'm overwhelmed. A lot of onboarding stuff that has to be done at the same time I’m being trained on three different service points at once, and then school starts next week which I'm told Changes Things in chaotic ways. But also...this is truly a dream job. My coworkers are so welcoming and actually respect my gender; I work in a very cool location with a lot of restaurants and cultural opportunities to explore; I get to lead the fantasy book club, which is honestly a dream come true. I feel extremely lucky to be here

As part of being so overwhelmed, I haven’t read through tumblr in almost two weeks, which is the longest I’ve gone in eight years without being fully “caught up” on my dash. I’m not sure how I feel about this; on the one hand, letting go of the need to perfectly complete something is always a good move for me, but also I do enjoy tumblr and it doesn’t give me Bad Social Media Feelings. Currently ambivalent on whether this marks the start of a new era or a blip in a continued tumblr way of life. In any case, if my queue runs out, that’s why.

I’ve also overcompensated on my desire to read fewer books by hardly making time to read at all, and I’m feeling burned out by that. Maybe sometimes I dive into too many books as a way of avoiding life and at the expense of other potential hobbies, but also sometimes reading restores me to myself and is the best way I can relax and enjoy myself, and I shouldn’t fight that.

That being said, I have realized that I don’t actually like buying new books. For one thing I’m out of room for them, and for another, I love library books! I love the feel of the plastic crinkling beneath my fingers, and the serendipity of finding them on the shelf. I love the ease of reading a book you’re not sure you’ll love, with no pressure to enjoy it because you spent money on it. I love getting to read every book in a long-running series without having to buy twenty different books. Libraries are awesome, and working in one is dangerous

I want so badly to grow the world’s shittiest little goatee, but I am stuck instead with two uneven tufts of fuzz with a gap in the middle, and no prospect of improvement. I know it looks better when trimmed, but unfortunately I love it too much and still harbor the unrealistic hope that one day it will fill in.

I didn't realize one of the things I would miss most about moving out of the south is the summer insects. The nights are just so empty here, and the few insects that do trill sound so tame and lonely. Earlier tonight I went on a walk and found a patch of trees where the insects were absolutely shrieking, and I took a second to bask in that and feel like I was home.

The September flowers are in full bloom: black-eyed Susans, sunflowers, lavender, marigolds, and hydrangeas. There are still a few last straggling roses, but the tiger lilies are gone, and the hibiscus are drooping and falling to the ground in dried up curls. I love keeping track of the year through a calendar of flowers

#cannot fucking figure out how to do a cut with the new post editor sorry about that #personal

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sinclairss · 1 year

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[DONALD GLOVER, CISMALE, HE/HIM/HIS] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [LUCAS SINCLAIR]? Old friends remember them as [LOYAL & ATHLETIC] but also [HEADSTRONG & SENSITIVE], no wonder they’re still known as [THE RANGER] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [35] and some people say they remind them of [COZY SWEATERS, BLACK COFFEE, EARLY MORNING RUNS, RED MARKS ON PAPER, THE SOUND OF A BASKETBALL BOUNCING ON A HARDWOOD FLOOR, SCUFFED BASKETBALL SHOES, HALF DRUNK BEER BOTTLES WITH PEELING LABELS, CAT FUR EVERYWHERE EVEN THOUGH HE’S NOT A CAT PERSON (ALLEGEDLY),]. [dani, 23, she/her/hers, est].

biography.

make new friends. step out of comfort zone and try new things. be yourself. that was lucas sinclair’s to-do list to surviving his freshman year of high school. 1986 had different plans for him. lucas did all of those things. he joined the basketball team over hellfire club, much to mike and dustin’s chagrin. he made a lifelong friend in jay demario. and, ultimately, he ran right back to the party when they needed him. he got his ass kicked by his team captain, watched helplessly as the first girl he loved cared for had her bones broken in half, and lost two of his best friends to the upside down. he failed. and that failure stuck with him for years. he was not going to fail anyone else like he’d failed to protect will and el. he was going to make sure his people were okay. and he was going to finish what he started in high school even if it killed him. so lucas sinclair went from benchwarmer to starting point guard, led the hawkins high tigers to back-to-back state championships, and earned himself a scholarship to notre dame so his parents wouldn’t have to worry about paying for his college just because he wasn’t as smart as erica, all while keeping tabs on dustin and mike and writing a bunch of letters he didn’t have an address to send to max that might still be shoved in the back of his closet.

he was an athlete and he played d&d with the hellfire club on the weekends. he dated a pretty girl who followed him to college. he was going to bring the fighting irish to the tournament, get noticed by scouts, and get a shoe deal. maybe he’d become an agent...or he’d play a few years professionally if he was lucky!

but lucas rode the bench his freshman year of college. he worked out all summer to earn his spot on the court and had a fantastic sophomore season...until a new year’s day tournament led to a torn acl. he had surgery, but the rehab was difficult. he fell into a pretty bad place, mis-using his pain pill prescriptions and eventually getting hooked. he made rash decisions including dropping out of school and heading home. he worked at family video while rehabbing his knee and saving up cash to...do what exactly? run off to california? very funny.

he spent two gap years in hawkins, going through the motions, occasionally hanging out with his old friends and and feeling trapped by the four walls of his childhood bedroom. a combination of reconnecting with mr. clarke while trespassing in the hawkins middle school gym and a good therapist that his mom definitely didn’t force him into seeing made things clearer to him. (marian tried, but it was honestly finding some of the old photos of the four of them in his classroom...and all of their old projects still taped up on the walls in mr. clarke’s classroom that gave him the nudge to return to school.) he’d probably never play in the nba. not on a bum leg, anyway. and if he couldn’t do that, well, keeping the curiosity door open wasn’t a bad trade off.

he returned to notre dame two years and many lifetimes wiser, got a teaching degree, and walked back on to the basketball team. he helped the irish into the big dance and had a pretty successful athletic career while earning his degree. lucas even married his high school sweetheart while on a spring break trip to las vegas (which his mom is still pissed about, by the way!)

he and tracy probably would have moved to chicago if not for charles’ heart attack. lucas had to go home and, thankfully, his wife seemed content to follow him back to hawkins.

honestly? lucas got married because that’s what he thought he was supposed to be doing at twenty-three. some of his friends were married, most of them had kids, and his mom was dying to join the grandma train. lucas was (and is) still searching for something to fill the massive gap left when will and el died. he’s been trying for years: first with athletics, then his romantic relationships, then with the pills and the weed and the booze he definitely didn’t get from jonathan or steve, but nothing ever makes him feel whole anymore.

the closest thing that does? seeing the spark a kid’s eyes when they finally figure out a difficult science concept. or the pure joy on every face when the girls’ basketball team he coaches finally wins a game. but as soon as he goes home to an empty apartment? he’s fucking lonely.

and he was lonely even before the divorce. he told tracy as much, and it...didn’t go over well. they fought, which was kind of...exhilarating, actually? they’d had a superficial spark that had burned hot and fast but died quickly and they both had just been going through the motions for years by the time lucas admitted that he just didn’t feel like it was worth it anymore.

his life is fine, if boring. he found some joy in coaching and substitute teaching at hawkins middle. when mr. clarke passed away, he stepped in automatically. if mr. clarke wasn’t there to guide the next generation, lucas sure would.

oh, and he’s also an uncle. which is pretty fun.

#vr:intro #//more to be added for plotting purposes later probably i just need to get this out there lol

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virtuouswhitehatorganization · 1 year

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Fempire- Chi Sage’s Parents Killer (Villainous Oc)

Name: Valeria Luca Age: 60's (chronologically) ; 20's (biologically) Species: Vampire (Human Formerly) Occupation: Supervillain ; Night Club Owner Sexuality: Straight Headcannon Voice Actor: Debi Derryberry (English); Carla Castañeda (Spanish) Love Interest: Double Take Ethnicity: Romanian-American Abilities: Vampire Powers Personality: She is a vain vamp of a woman and is obsessed with her looks. She revels in the fact she will never age due to being a vampire and takes advantage of men who lust after her. She also gets very offended when people remind her of her true age and snaps. She also is very haughty and snobby and thinks she's all that and a bag of chips. She also is not above discarding them if they prove they are also of no further use. She also shows herself to be cruel in the way she will taunt Chi Sage about killing his parents and saying that they were trash heroes. This also invokes the ire of Master Jiangshi who respected them and has a grudge against her for killing them. She is also very envious against any woman who rivals her in beauty and is a attention whore who wants the spotlight only on her. She has little discard for life since she doesn't care that the price of immortal beauty is also becoming a soul sucking creature of the night and eating people. Background: Originally a normal human she became obsessed with obtaining the powers of Dracula to enrich herself and remain forever beautiful. She then got her wish by becoming a vampire and decided to get into crime. She also opened up a night club that has been running since the 80's and has been a hot spot for villain and supernatural activity. She also became a member of the Black Hat organization and a top member. She also got an archenemy that she eventually vanquished with their help. She eventually also ran across Chi Sage and Chi Tiger doing some business in San Bahia which led to their deaths much to Master Jiangshi's vitriol. This also made her targeted by their son Chi Sage who swore to avenge their deaths. * Her archenemy was named Abrianna Yelsing a female parody of Van Helsing. * She and Double Take begin dating and have no problem killing other people's archenemies for the glory of it. * She has a harem of men she has turned into vampires. She also has henchwomen as well. * She has a lot of weaknesses found in the novel version of Dracula. She can go out in the sunlight but it only weakens her but not kills her. * She speaks Romanian and English. * In the fight that kill Chi Sage's parents, she pulled a dirty trick that resulted in their deaths. Created through picrew.to/6ed/image_maker/copp…

#villainous #villanos oc #villainous oc #oc

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zenigatakeibu · 1 year

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PUBLIC VS. PRIVATE KNOWLEDGE.

specific to his yakuza au! consider this a continual wip. (tw for brief mentions of child death)

🐯 PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE. (information anyone can know/learn/have access to)

[ DATA EXPUNGED ]

🐯 SEMI-PRIVATE KNOWLEDGE. (information only those who are close to him can know/learn/have access to)

Koichi Zenigata is the Fourth Chairman of the Izumi clan, the largest and wealthiest yakuza syndicate in Tokyo.

Waged a bloody all-out war against a rival clan, the Ita, a month into his leadership. The Izumi eventually won out, and those of the Ita who were not killed/had not fled were absorbed into the Izumi's ranks.

Provides protection and charity to civilians who live within his territory.

Very "old school," honorable, and expects his clan members to act the same.

His duality as both a protector and a force to be reckoned is with what earned him the title "Tiger of Tokyo."

Manages an exclusive jazz club (the Roundhouse) and a fight club (the Snake Pit) which resides beneath it.

His clan deals in weapons smuggling, illegal passports, gambling rings, loan sharking, extortion/blackmail, political bribes, and assassinations-- among other things.

Owns two pseudo-melanistic Bengal tigers and has raised them since they were cubs.

Has an irezumi back piece. It depicts a roaring tiger, framed by black waves, clouds, and red flowers. The front view has two tiger’s paws– their claws outstretched– coming down over his pectorals, also framed by waves, clouds, and flowers.

Proficient in judo, karate, and general hand-to-hand combat. Is also an incredible marksmen and skilled with knives/blades.

Controls a good portion of the MPD and has connections within Interpol.

🐯 PRIVATE KNOWLEDGE. (information only a VERY select trusted few know/have access to)

Following Zenigata's rise to power, the Ita clan saw this transitional period as a chance to wipe him/his clan out and gain full control of Tokyo. They kidnapped his wife and daughter, preparing to exchange their safety for Zenigata's life, however when Zenigata met them to agree to their terms, they instead executed his family in front of him. Zenigata snapped and killed his captors, proceeding to then perform yubitsume on his left hand's ring finger in his lost family's memory. This is what kickstarted the war against the Ita clan.

Is an extremely paranoid person, will not hesitate to make an example of those he views as a threat.

Has been the target of over 20 assassination attempts, the most notable being the reason for the deep scar across his neck.

Is a huge softy deep down. Struggles with expressing his more sensitive side due to the death of his family.

#🚨 headcanons #🚨 ooc #🚨 au: tiger of tokyo

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eruden-writes · 2 years

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Slow Burn - Part 9 (Endeavor x OC)

WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR CURRENT CANON STORY. TITLE SUBJECT TO CHANGE.

Months have passed since the war. The heroes won, but there’s still rebuilding efforts to be completed. And not just buildings and cities.

Maemi Ono is one therapist, among many from her US-based agency, who is chosen to treat Class 2-A (previously Class 1-A) as a group and Dabi, of the former League of Villains, individually. However, with the war still fresh in his head and suspicions high, Endeavor isn’t so sure Miss Ono’s intentions are entirely as good as they seem.

When Maemi’s past rears its head, will it prove Endeavor correct? Or will it pull Maemi further into Endeavor’s orbit?

x x x

Part 9: Well-Intentioned

It was a little disconcerting how much adult entertainment revolved around drinking, Maemi Ono considered as she sat in the nightclub. She sat in her booth,a little distant from the bulk of the ongoings, and sipped her cola. Her colleagues’ drinks littered the table, in various states of being drained, while the drinkers in question were off dancing.

She was just thankful they had bought her ‘someone needs to stay behind to watch our drinks’ excuse. Otherwise Aria and the others would have undoubtedly dragged a less-than-enthused Maemi onto the dancefloor. Just watching the writhing throngs from a distance made Maemi tense. So many people in such a small space, emotions fueled by alcohol or dugs or whatever natural high prompted people to grind on strangers.

“Look who I found, Maemi!” Aria’s singsong voice shattered Maemi’s thoughts. As her attention flickered toward Aria, Maemi was all the more grateful for not being dragged onto the dancefloor as she spotted her colleague’s find.

“Oh, Mr. Todoroki.” A flare of heat crawled up Maemi’s back as she slid out of the booth, standing to greet the pro-hero with a bow, before hastily adding to his familiar companion. “And Hawks.”

The younger hero flashed Maemi a broad grin, leaning toward her. “You must be Miss Ono. I’ve heard about you.”

“Hopefully not all bad,” she replied with a smile, still angling her face slightly away from Endeavor. She was still trying to process seeing him in a clubbing outfit.

It had to be the younger hero’s doing, she instantly thought. She couldn’t imagine Endeavor willingly choosing to wear the burnt orange silk button-up with a dark blue floral print over a plain white undershirt. Or the gold chain. The dark blue slacks and sensible shoes, sure. Not that shirt, half-unbuttoned. Or, upon closer inspection, the beaded bracelet on his wrist and the array of simple black rings on his fingers.

Hawks’s hand in Endeavor’s outfit solidified as she realized the younger man was wearing a tiger print button-up himself. Oh, universe have mercy, Maemi was certain she was losing the fight against her deliriously amused grin.

“Not at all,” laughed Hawks, making a motion with his hand as he shot Endeavor a look. “Mostly… conflicted.”

“Takami,” Endeavor sighed, an annoyed gnarl to his tone. He shook his head, turning his attention to Miss Ono. Though she seemed to refuse to look at him, that didn’t stop him from taking in her outfit for the evening.

A black clingy halter dress, with a low-cut neckline and a hem that liked riding up. Her modesty barely preserved with a sheer cover-up. Semi-sheer stockings. High heels with straps that criss-crossed from her knee to ankle and were not made for dancing. Obnoxiously large earrings, shaped like suckers.

Despite his best effort, even Endeavor could hear the critical edge to his words. “What’s a school therapist doing at a club?”

Maemi didn’t have a chance to bristle or reply as Aria stepped in. The Musical Theater Quirk user wore far less, with her cropped tube top shoving off her toned stomach and her booty shorts flaunting just about everything. She wrapped her arms around Maemi’s elbow, placing her head on Maemi’s shoulder with a sly smile toward Endeavor, “This may come as a shock, Mr. Todoroki, but Maemi is an adult.”

“I was dragged here by well-meaning colleagues,” Maemi added as she shook Aria’s hold off herself.

That Endeavor could sympathize with. It was only Hawks’ well-meaning, but no-less-aggravating, commentary on his dead personal life that eventually led to being in this particular nightclub. Endeavor thought, by agreeing to give it a chance, the younger hero would eventually let it go, after it sputtered out.

Though shaken off, Aria still pouted and turned to Maemi, waggling a playful finger in her face as her long ponytail swayed, “You’d have more fun if you stopped warming your butt in that booth, young lady!”

Maemi scoffed, shifting her weight on her feet as she planted her hands on her hips. “I am literally older than you, Aria.”

“Irregardless,” Aria announced with a flourish of her hand. She proceeded to take a quick sip from her drink, placing the glass back down with a light clatter. Maemi was soon met with another finger in her face as Aria huffed, “I’m going to go dance and have fun. You should do the same, missy.”

“Enjoy yourself.” Maemi waved her colleague away, making a show of flopping back down into her seat.

As Aria flounced off into the throngs of people, Maemi wasn’t the only party abandoned. Hawks scurried after Aria, a shit-eating grin on his face and his eyebrows waggling suggestively, “Hey, wait up! You know birds attract mates by dancing, right?”

Endeavor watched Hawks disappear into the crowd, annoyance evident in his tone. “And there he goes, after insisting I come out with him.”

“So, did you lose a bet?” Maemi smiled sympathetically, motioning for him to take a seat across from her.

Surprising Maemi, Endeavor seated himself where she indicated, careful to not bump into the accumulated cups and glasses. He carefully set his own beer down, keeping it between his hands. “No, he said I needed to ‘put myself back out there’ with the divorce and everything. I only came to shut him up.”

“Ah, that kind of thing.” She certainly knew of well-meaning colleagues coercing one into awkward and unwanted situations. For a man like Endeavor, on the market once more after decades as a married man, she could only imagine how badly Hawks nagged at him. She couldn’t imagine anyone else being able to push the Number One Hero like his little hanger-on Number Two.

The two sat in silence for a time, watching as people writhed on the dance floor or trotted by in gaggles with drinks in hand. The scents of perfume and cologne intensified as goers worked up a sweat. The jingle-jangle of bangles joined the clinking of beer bottles and glasses. Over top the small sounds, music thrummed and bass throbbed through the entire building, until Maemi was certain her ass was going to go numb from the vibrations.

The quiet was starting to feel strained to Maemi and, just as she turned to breach some sort of polite conversation, someone clattered into their table. They leaned over the table top, full of giggles and nearly breathless, as they addressed the pro-hero, “Are you Endeavor?”

“Yes.” He warily watched the newcomer. Maemi hid a smile behind her hand, feeling the exasperation waft from Endeavor. His tone just barely remained in the realm of politeness.

The stranger shot a glance at Maemi, but still addressed Endeavor. “Are you on a date?”

“Absolutely not,” Maemi answered, barely swallowing down her laugh. Though she restrained her giggle, she couldn’t keep her smile from growing as Endeavor shot her a look. Offended and perhaps a little panicked, slowly realizing where the situation headed and who was about to bear witness to it. For a brief moment, Maemi felt bad finding amusement in his torment.

“Ohmigosh, can I get a pic then?” Before Maemi could even sense the danger, the interloper flopped across Endeavor’s lap before an affirmative answer could even be uttered. Endeavor tensed, shoulders taut as the stranger’s phone flashed, momentarily filling his sight with floating lights in the darkened club. He just barely refrained from tossing the civilian off his lap. The urge intensified as they walked their fingertips up the bare part of his chest. “So, you got plans later?”

“Remove yourself from me.” It was a wonder sparks didn’t fly from Endeavor’s mouth, as the words came out through tightly gritted teeth. He sat deathly still, mortified heat biting into his cheeks.

The liquid courage visibly drained from the interloper’s body. They immediately jumped up, shoulders hunched. Before they managed to scurry back to the safety of the dancefloor, they squeaked, “Yessir.”

And that was it.

Endeavor still sat deathly still, breathing in and out so deeply his shoulders noticeably rose and fell. He’d never been good with the more personable aspects of heroing. It came with the territory, he realized. But he still was left feeling violated.

“I’m sorry, I thought they were just going to sloppily flirt with you.” Maemi wasted no time in skirting around the table, sinking into the spot between Endeavor and the open room. She could sense all manner of bitter, upset feelings churning through him. Her wide yellow eyes stared up at him, concerned and barely refraining from touching his arm to comfort him. The only thing that stopped her was knowing another had already foisted their touch on him. “I didn’t think they’d do that.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbled, shifting further into the booth to give her more space on the bench. Endeavor didn’t bring his gaze to hers. Something hot and sticky and angry tumbled in his center. Knowing she could sense how he felt only made the sensation worsen.

“No, it’s not! They completely bypassed your boundaries!” Once more, Maemi wanted to reach out, to touch his arm and offer some physical sense of comfort. And once more, she refrained. A familiar ache throbbed at the side of her head. An ache that had haunted her for decades. Maemi pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to ease the migraine away.

The sounds around her sharpened. She began to sense rage and jealousy and envy among the merrymaking and giddiness. It clawed at her synapses, making the unassociated headache worsen.

Her reaction wasn’t lost on Endeavor. “Are you okay?”

Maemi shot him a look, wanting to tell him not to worry about her, wanting to press the topic of boundaries and his rights to them. But she stopped herself. Endeavor was stubborn and foolhardy, to the point of self-harm. Many pro-heroes were. Just like many shouldered the weight of expectation.

She wasn’t sure if Endeavor should remain at the club. Nor was she certain she wanted to stick around. It wasn’t exactly her scene to begin with. And with her trauma-triggered migraine making the whole situation worse, all she wanted to do was flee back home.

“This is just too much for me,” Maemi heaved a theatrical sigh, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead and leaning back into the seat’s cushion. “If only a pro-hero could save me from this awful situation.”

Endeavor did not appreciate Miss Ono’s melodramatics. Especially knowing how she’d taken the interloper literally draping themselves in his own lap. His sense of pride had been bruised, leaving him raw. Trying not to feel as though he was being petulant, Endeavor answered, “You’re fully capable of leaving on your own.”

“Sure I am,” Maemi admitted, leaning toward him as the music pulsed. “But if I leave with someone, Aria can’t complain too much about me being antisocial.”

Without thinking, Endeavor leaned toward Miss Ono. He tried to ignore the clean, sweet-smelling scent of her shampoo and the subtle heat her body gave off. No, he clung desperately to his dourness. “Even if that someone is the father of two of your patients?”

“True. I suppose I could convince someone else - perhaps a bit more avian - to save me.” She grinned up at Endeavor, before obviously glancing to the dancefloor. Something roused in Endeavor, his shoulders stiffening as he caught her less-than-subtle hint.

“But then that’d leave you here, glowering into the distance and being accosted by sexually interested parties.” Maemi leaned away, her eyes going wide with mock innocence. She pressed a hand to her own chest, her tone tilting into mock shock, “Or perhaps you’d prefer that? Maybe I’m cramping your style?”

If she was trying to act scandalized, it wasn’t working on Endeavor. Though the breathy way her words slid from her lips was certainly doing something for him. Something he wasn’t in the headspace to confront right now. He tried to shove the growing sensations - and his grudging relief - aside as he cast a look around the club. He’d never been prone to this activity, even when he was younger. It was loud, hard to talk, and others were more often obnoxious than not.

As in the past, Endeavor felt like he had better options at his disposal. Turning his attention back to Maemi, who watched him with a smile that just barely refrained from being knowing, he sighed, “Alright, let’s go.”

Her smile broadened, a hint of relief flickering in her eyes. He tried not to take too much enjoyment in that. His bruised ego and trampled boundaries still ached, but it was hard not to feel some sense of relief in leaving the establishment.

As the two gathered their things and beat a hasty retreat through the club, neither could shake the feeling the night was heading somewhere neither had anticipated. Though both were eager to see where this option took them.

#endeavor fanfic #enji todoroki #canon x oc #endeavor x oc #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic #slow burn #slow burn part 9 #sb part 9 #maemi ono #maemi #( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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